Sherlock Holmes and the Sacred Sword

actually worked together on a case, but that is another story indeed.

Wolfgang von Shalloway was his small and dapper self, and after greetings got to business more rapidly than is customary on the continent. To have his fellow investigator contact him was to summon his best efforts, for it was a matter of pride that the German Eagle display a sharp beak in the presence of the British Lion.

'He is dragging you all over Europe, nicht war, Doctor?'

I summoned a weary smile of agreement.

'I did not think you were in Venice for your health, and now, Germany. It must be something big to entice Holmes from his beloved London.'

'It could be,' replied Holmes.

'Well, if you can throw some light on the matter of the Mannheim tablets, I will be in your debt.'

'You have the thief, do you not?' I asked.

'We have Heinrich Hublein in a facility for the criminally insane. That is all we have. The tablets? Poof!'

Von Shalloway's hands gestured expressively. There was a look of distaste around his firm mouth.

'Not satisfied?'

'Far from it, Holmes. This happened four years ago. Hublein was not my only problem.' The chief indicated a file on his desk, then tapped it with his index finger.

'Four cases, gentlemen, all unresolved. You Britishers would call it a blot on my escutcheon, and it is. They are. Never mind. One thing I will say for Hublein. He was good luck. After he confessed, no more unresolved cases.'

'The thief confessed?' I asked.

'Is crazy nicht war? And the doctors say he is crazy. 'Catatonic' they call him. Withdrawn into a secret world within himself. Possibly this is so.'

Von Shalloway rose from behind his desk as though to remove himself from the file he had referred to. There was a soft knock on his office door and an assistant entered, registered on a gesture from the chief, and disappeared without saying a word. I recalled Holmes once saying that when von Shalloway said 'Jump!' his aides asked, 'How high?'

Holmes surprised me. 'Tell us about the unresolved cases.'

He surprised von Shalloway also. 'I thought you were interested—' His jaw abruptly clamped shut. 'Never mind. Perhaps you can came up with something. I should not look a gift . . . a gift . . .'

'Horse in the mouth?' I suggested.

'Ja. Watson is up on the, how you say, 'lingo.''

'He reads sensational American literature,' commented Holmes dryly. 'About those other cases.'

Von Shalloway was back at his desk with the file open, but that was purely a gesture of habit. Obviously, he knew the contents backwards.

'Better than six years ago, we have a robbery in Morenstrasse. The thief jimmied the door to a built-in stairs that served as the fire escape. It was a well-to-do apartment house and out of all the residents, he picks a suite occupied by a supposed financier who we know is a big-time fence. His door is jimmied, too, and a lot of money is stolen.'

'Ah ha!' I exclaimed. 'A receiver of stolen goods would keep a lot of ready cash on hand.'

Von Shalloway pointed towards Holmes. 'That he learned from you and not from sensational literature. Anyway, we went over the locks. Hammer was on the case.'

'Good man!' said Holmes.

'I trained him,' replied von Shalloway. 'Something about the scratches on the locks rang a bell, and he went to the Meldwesen.'

Fortunately, this was not gibberish to me. A mind like Sherlock Holmes's had to be fascinated by the machinelike logic of the Germans and their genius for organization. I had heard from him all about the Meldwesen, the huge catalogue of cards that constituted the most exhaustive body of information on criminal matters assembled. Holmes referred to it as a crime machine, and since it took one hundred and sixty rooms to house, I judged it to be a big one.

'It was the jimmy that was the clue. It was a special design used by only one man according to our records. We picked him up soon enough. It had to be him, only the night of the robbery he was in jail on suspicion of involvement in a casino robbery in Bad Homburg.'

'The case fell apart?'

'Completely.' Von Shalloway was on his feet again. 'All four cases the same. In Bremen, a jewel robbery. The victim, we think maybe he is a smuggler. His wife's jewels are taken. Possibly, also some diamonds that he spirited through customs. But, no mind. The thief gets in with a glass cutter. Everything about the job spells one man whose modus operandi we have catalogued. So what happens? The suspect, the night of the robbery, is acting as a snitch in a weinstube we are raiding in Berlin. My own men give him an alibi.'

Von Shalloway accepted a Capstan cigarette I offered him and lit it nervously. 'Danke, Doctor. Hmmm! Tightly packed, no? The American cigarettes, they are better.'

'I prefer them,' said Holmes.

'Anyway, we have constructed a machine. Our Meldwesen and Kriminal Archiv cannot fail. But still I have those four cases.'

'What about Hublein?'

'Make that five cases, Holmes. The two gold tablets were stolen from Mannheim's home in Spandau. As you know, Herr Mannheim has one of the largest collections of art objects in the world. The thief gained access through a fourth-story window. There is only one man who could have done it. Schadie, also called 'The Shadow.''

'He had an alibi?' I asked enthralled.

'We have never found him. We know all about him, of course. He uses suction cups on his hands and attached to his knees. He can go up a wall as smooth as glass. The Mannheim case, uhh, we heard a lot about that from high places. Herr Mannheim's steel mills are important to Germany. There were traces. Our technicians found indications of rubber on the outer wall of the building. It had to be Schadie. But, into headquarters comes this Hublein. No record. He is pretty wild-eyed, but he insists that he stole the tablets.'

Von Shalloway thumped his desk with exasperation.

'It had to be Shadow Schadie, but try to convince a jury when they are facing a man who has confessed. Hublein was convicted. He made no defense. The few words the lawyers could get out of him were incriminating. Then the doctors got hold of him. I agree with them. Hublein has bats in his, how you say . . . ?'

'Belfry?'

'Ja! Und now he is in the booby . . . booby . . .'

'Hatch.'

'That is so, Doctor.'

'You say he had no record?' asked Holmes.

Von Shalloway regarded us both with an embarrassed expression. 'Tanks Gott the journals did not make much of the case. A confessed criminal is not news. Gentlemen, Heinrich Hublein was a female impersonator.'

I half rose from my chair. 'Come now, von Shalloway, you're pulling our legs.'

'I wish it was so. But, nein, Hublein was entertainer. He had what they call 'a good act.' He is small, dark of hair with thin bones and classical features. Always, he makes himself up as a blond and he sings in high voice and pretty good, too. Then at the conclusion of his turn, when the applause comes, he sweeps off his wig and audience realizes that he is not woman at all.'

'A female impersonator and a crime of the century,' mused Holmes thoughtfully. 'I rather feel your newspapers missed a bet. Can I see this most unusual prisoner?'

'Of course. But you will look over the four cases I mentioned, no?' Von Shalloway was leafing through his records and extracted some typewritten sheets, which he handed to Holmes.

'Study them, please. Every day I come in here and I see that file, and then I think of Hublein and it is not such a good day suddenly.'

The sleuth nodded. 'Might I first have a go at the Meldwesen? You know how it delights me.'

Von Shalloway turned to me with twinkling eyes.

'Ach, he is looking for something.' His bright eyes shifted back to Holmes. 'I shall have Hammer escort you, and while you are going through files, Doctor Watson and I will have luncheon. I know a beerstube which has the