The Sherlock Holmes Megapack: 25 Modern Tales by Masters: 25 Modern Tales by Masters (16 page)

It took me but moments to realize that this was a person of unusual talent, potentially a practitioner of the craft of detection to approach my own level of proficiency. It was obvious to me as we conversed on this topic and that, the politics of our respective nations, the growing incidence of crime which respects neither border nor sea, the advances of science and literature among the Gallic and Anglic races, that he was watching me closely, attempting to draw my measure even as I was his.

At length, feeling that I had seen all that he would reveal of himself, and growing impatient with his avoidance of the topic that had drawn him to my apartments, I demanded once for all that he describe that which he sought and in the recovery of which he desired my guidance, or else depart from my lodging, having provided me with an hour’s diversion and no more.

“Very well, sir,” he replied, “I will tell you that I am in search of a bird.”

Upon his making this statement I burst into laughter, only to be shocked back to sobriety by the stern expression upon the face of my visitor.

“Surely, sir,” I exclaimed, “you did not brave the stormy waters of the Channel in search of a grouse or guinea hen.”

“No, sir,” he replied, “I have come in search of a plain black bird, a bird variously described in the literature as a raven or, more likely, a hawk.”

“The feathers of hawks are not black,” I replied.

“Indeed, sir, you are correct. The feathers of hawks are not black, nor has this hawk feathers of any colour, but the colour of this hawk is golden.”

“You insult me, sir,” I stated angrily.

My visitor raised his eyebrows. “Why say you so?”

“You come to me and speak only in riddles, as if you were humouring a playful child. A hawk that is black but has no feathers and yet is golden. If you do not make yourself more clear you must leave my apartments, and I wish you a speedy return to your country.”

He raised a hand placatingly. “I did not wish to offend you, sir, nor to speak in conundrums. Pray, bear with me for a little longer and I will make clear the nature and history of the odd bird which I seek.”

I permitted him to continue.

“This was the representation of a bird,” quoth he, “the creation of a group of talented metalworkers and gem-smiths, Turkish slaves employed by the Grand Master Villiers de l’lsle d’Adam, of the Order of the Knights of Rhodes. It was crafted in the year 1530, and dispatched by galley from the Isles of Rhodes to Spain, where it was to be presented to the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Its height was as the length of your forearm. It was of solid gold, in the form of a standing hawk or raven, and it was crusted over with gems of the greatest variety and finest quality. Its value even at the time was immense. Today it would be incalculable!”

He paused, a look in his eyes as if he could envision the fantastic sight of a golden falcon, emeralds for its eyes and rubies for its claws, circling the chamber. Then he resumed his narrative.

He then did something which seemed, at the moment, very peculiar but which, I would come to realize, was in truth to have been expected of a man such as he. He leaped from his seat upon the cushion and began pacing restlessly around the chamber. At once I inquired as to what had caused such an abrupt alteration in his manner and demeanour, whereupon he turned upon me a visage transformed. The muscles of his face were drawn, his lips were pulled back to expose gleaming teeth, and his eyes, by heaven, his eyes glittered like the eyes of a wild leopard.

“I must visit an apothecary at once,” he exclaimed.

In response to this demand I remonstrated with him. “Sir, there is an excellent apothecary shop upon the Rue Dunot, an easy walk from here, but what is the urgency? A moment ago you were calmly describing a most extraordinary bird. Now you demand directions to the establishment of a chemist.”

“It will pass,” he responded, most puzzlingly, “it will pass.”

He sank once more to his former position upon the sofa and, pressing the heels of his hands to his deep-sunken eyes, paused to draw a deep breath.

“Do you wish to continue?” I inquired.

“Yes, yes. But if you would be so kind, monsieur, as to furnish me with a glass of wine, I would be most grateful.”

I rose and proceeded to the wine cupboard, from which I drew a dust-coated bottle of my second-best vintage. In those days as in these, as you are of course aware, I saw fit to maintain my own household, without benefit of servant or staff. I poured a glass for my guest and he tossed it off as one would a draught of water, extending the emptied goblet for a second portion, which I forthwith poured. This he studied, lifted to his lips and sipped, then placed carefully upon the taboret before him.

“Do you wish to continue your narration?” I inquired.

“If you please,” he responded, “I beg your indulgence for my outburst. I am not, I must confess, entirely well.”

“Should the need arise,” I assured him, “M. Konstantinides, the chemist, is qualified to provide specifics for all known illnesses. The hour is late and he would by now have closed his establishment for the night and retired to his chamber, but I could rouse him in your behalf.”

“You are gracious, sir. I trust that will prove unnecessary, but I am nonetheless grateful.” Once more he paused as if to gather his thoughts, then launched upon a further exposition. “I will not trouble you with every detail of the peregrinations of the golden falcon, save to point out that within our own generation it had passed into the possession of the Carlist movement in Spain.”

To this statement I nodded. “Wars of succession are tiresome, but it seems they will be with us always, does it not? I was struck by the recent surrender of Señor Maroto’s Basque followers after their lengthy and strenuous resistance.”

“You are well informed, sir! If you are familiar with the fate of the Basque Carlists, then you would know that Señor Ramon Cabrera has continued the struggle in Catalonia.”

“He is also in dire straits, is he not?”

“Yes, it appears that Her Majesty Isabella the Second is at last about to reap the harvest of the Salic Law invoked by her royal father. But I fear I am boring you, M. Dupin.”

“Not so much boring as stimulating my curiosity. Surely, sir, you did not travel here from London merely to relate the saga of a fabulous bird and then digress upon the politics of the Spanish succession. How are these things related, for surely that must be the case. If you would be so kind as to come to the point, then.”

“Indeed.” He bowed his head, then raised it once more. “You are aware, surely, that Don Carlos has sympathizers here in France. You were perhaps not aware that Señor Cabrera had sent an agent on a dangerous and secretive mission to traverse the passes of the Pyrenees and make his way to the chateau of a French sympathizer, no less a personage than the Duc de Lagny.”

“I am familiar with Lagny,” I confessed. “I have had the pleasure of being introduced to His Grace and to Her Grace, the Duchess. Their chateau is of noteworthy architecture. But of the Duke’s Carlist sympathies I must confess profound ignorance.

“That is not surprising, sir. The Duke is known, if I may make a small play on words, for his reclusiveness.”

He paused to sip once more at his, or perhaps I should say, my, wine. “Regarding the golden bird as an omen and token of majesty, and sensing the imminent defeat of the Carlist cause, Senor Cabrera had sent the bird to Lagny rather than have it fall into the hands of his niece’s followers.”

“And you wish me to assist you in retrieving the bird from the chateau of the Duc de Lagny?” I asked.

“That is my mission.”

“You are in the employ of Her Majesty Isabella?”

“I am in the employ of one whose identity I am not at liberty to disclose.” He rose to his feet. “If you will assist me—for my knowledge of the French countryside and culture is limited—you will receive, shall I say, sir, a reward of royal proportions.”

“You wish me to accompany you to the chateau of the Duke,” I inquired, “there to obtain from his custody the fabled bird. What causes you to believe that he will relinquish it?”

“You have my assurance, monsieur, the Duke will be eager to part with that which he safeguards upon receiving proof of the identity of my employers.”

“You have such proof with you?” I demanded.

“I have, sir,” he insisted. “Upon this fact I give you my solemn assurance.”

Unable to deny an interest in obtaining a share of the lucre to which he referred, and perhaps attracted to an extent by the lure of the romantic story he had spun, I agreed, at the least, to accompany him to Lagny. I have told you already that the hour of my guest’s arrival was an unconventionally late one, and his disquisitive manner of speech had caused the hours to pass before our bargain, such as it might be, was struck.

At length I excused myself and proceeded to the front parlour of my apartment. The act of drawing back the draperies confirmed that which I had already suspected, namely, that dawn had broken and a new day was upon us. Feeling impelled to violate my custom and venture forth from my lodgings in the light of day, I urged my visitor to the stoop, drew shut the door behind us, and locked it.

We set out on foot to the apothecary shop of M. Konstantinides. Here my guest purchased a preparation and induced it into his own system.

I was by no means unfamiliar with the effects of various stimulants and depressants upon the human organism, but even so I will own that I was startled at the strength and portion taken by this nearly skeletal Englishman. At once his air of distress left him and his visage assumed an altogether more friendly and optimistic appearance than had previously been the case. He paid M. Konstantinides his fee, adding a generous overage thereto, and then, turning to me, suggested that we set out for Lagny.

Our journey was not a difficult one. We hired a hackney carriage and negotiated a fare all the way to the village of Lagny, the sum being paid from my guest’s purse, and proceeded eastward from the capital. It was necessary to pause but once at an inn, where we procured a loaf, a cheese, and bottle, my English guest and I dining in democratic fashion with the hackman.

* * * *

The sun drew low in the sky behind us as we approached Lagny. I was able, by drawing upon my memory of earlier days, to direct the hackman past the village to the chateau of the Duke. It was a tall and rambling structure of ancient Gothic construction; as we neared the chateau the sun’s guttering rays painted its walls as if with a palette of flame. We debouched from the carriage and instructed the hackman to return to the village and to return for us in the morning.

He asked in his rude yet charmingly colourful way, “And who’s to pay for me sups and me snooze, ye two toffs?”

“We shall indeed,” my English guest responded, dropping a handful of coins onto the coach box, upon which the hackman whipped up and departed.

The Chateau de Lagny, if I may so describe it, radiated an air of age and decadence. As my guest and I stood gazing at its facade he turned to me and asked a peculiar question. “What do you hear, my dear Dupin?”

Perhaps I ought to have taken offense at this unwonted familiarity, but instead I chose to deal with his query. I cocked an ear, gave list carefully to whatever sounds there might be emanating from the chateau, then made my reply. “I hear nothing.”

“Precisely!” the Englishman exclaimed.

“And what, sir, is the object of this schoolmasterly exchange?” I inquired.

“Sir,” he smiled, “would one not expect to hear the bustle of life in such a setting as this? The neigh of horses from the stables, the cry of servants and workers, mayhap the sound of revellers? None of this, I repeat, none of it do we hear. Only a silence, M. Dupin, only an eerie, deathlike silence.”

For once I was forced to concede that my visitor had scored a point upon me. I acknowledged as much, to which he perhaps grudgingly conceded that I was yet the master and he the eager pupil. He refrained from commenting upon the looming day when the pupil might outstrip the master in achievement, nor was I prepared to do so.

Arm-in-arm we approached the main entryway of the chateau. We carried, of course, walking sticks, and I permitted my companion to raise his and strike heavily upon the great wooden door. To my astonishment no servant appeared to grant us entry. Instead, the door swung slowly open and the two of us set foot upon the flagging on the chateau’s foyer.

At first nothing appeared out of the way, but in moments our nostrils were assailed by the unmistakable odour of decomposition. Exchanging glances but not a word, we drew kerchiefs from our respective pockets and knotted them over our nostrils and mouths. I turned toward my companion and observed him, hatted and masked like a highwayman. Full well I knew that my own appearance was as sinister as his.

The first cadaver we encountered was that of a liveried footman. First instructing my guest to maintain careful watch lest violence appear from within the chateau, I knelt over the still form. Had the stench not been evidence enough of death, the condition of the footman’s body would have fully convinced the veriest of laymen. He had been struck down from behind. He lay upon his face, the back of his head crushed, the pooled gore already beginning to crawl with insects.

Turning aside to draw a breath of clear air, or at any rate of air more clear than that surrounding the cadaver, I examined the clothing of the deceased in search of a clue as to the motive for his murder, but discovered nothing.

Proceeding through the house my associate and I found, in turn, the remains of maids, cooks, laundresses, and an elderly male servant whom we took to be the
majordomo
of the establishment. But what had happened, and where was the master of the chateau?

Him we found in the stables behind the chateau. Surrounded by dead stablemen lay M. le Duc. The hearty nobleman whose company I had enjoyed more than once had been treated disgustingly. It was obvious from the condition of the remains that the Duke had been tortured. His hands were bound behind his back and his face showed the discolourations caused by the application of a heated implement.