by Ron Weighell
ARRIVING AT BAKER STREET one bright, spring morning, I found Sherlock Holmes chuckling over the latest pearl of wisdom from Lestrade. It was a newspaper report of a case in the solution of which Holmes had played no small part. Lestrade had expressed the opinion that the successful conclusion was a triumph for steady, patient, routine work by the police, and served as a warning against the ‘modem, flashy element’ who tried to introduce newfangled methods. There could be, in Lestrade’s opinion, no substitute for the constable on the beat with his trusty truncheon.
‘A timely warning,’ laughed Holmes. ‘Let us never waste our energies in scientific analysis, minute examination of clues, and strict application of logic, when we can leave everything in the hands of a man with size fifteen boots and a wooden stick. However, let us turn to more interesting matters. Would you be so kind as to read this letter, Watson?’
“‘Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes,
“‘I know how busy you must be, but I need your assistance in a matter of great urgency.
“‘I am engaged in a study of Egyptian Hieroglyphics under the tutelage of Dr Edward Wallis, keeper of Egyptian Antiquities at the British Museum. In the course of my studies I have come upon a very vexing mystery that concerns one of the objects on display in the museum.
“‘Unfortunately, Dr Wallis is very busy preparing a forthcoming exhibition, and therefore cannot involve himself in this matter. All my instincts tell me that there is something very wrong, and that it should not be left until Dr Wallis has time to take the matter in hand. I have therefore taken the liberty of writing to you in the hope that you can meet me in the Egyptian Gallery of the British Museum tomorrow morning at nine o’clock, and investigate this problem.
“‘Yours sincerely,
“‘Miss D Edney”‘
‘What do you make of it, Watson?’
‘It is from a female employee of the British Museum who needs your help in a mystery concerning an ancient Egyptian object.’
‘Nothing more than that?’
‘What else is there to see?’
‘Well, you could have begun by saying that she is a middle-aged woman, who had a strict schooling; and is probably in line for promotion to a position of significance at the museum. She also, evidently, has a flair for the dramatic.
‘Her age can be deduced from the serious, calm tone in which she discusses a matter that is clearly very worrying to her. Similarly, we can see the strict schooling in the fact that her handwriting is perfect school copperplate; time has done nothing to erode, or elaborate, the style in which she was originally taught.
‘Note that she is under the tutelage of the Keeper of Antiquities, no less! Either she is being trained for some important post, or is engaged in work of value to the museum.’
‘And the flair for the dramatic?’
‘Come, Watson. She has requested a meeting at the museum, rather than visit us here, and has carefully avoided giving any clue as to the nature of the mystery.’
‘Will you take the case?’
‘If the matter is serious enough to concern such a person, I feel I should give it my attention. There are no other cases at present. If you are prepared to accompany me, we will keep the appointment.’
We duly arrived in the Egyptian rooms at the appointed hour, and found the great halls of statues and display cases empty, but for a striking young woman, somewhat younger than Holmes had deduced, accompanying a female child of about ten years.
‘Miss Edney?’ called Holmes. ‘I am Sherlock Holmes; this is Dr Watson. How can we be of service to you?’
The young woman laughed most charmingly, and shook her head. ‘I think you are mistaken, Mr Holmes. My name is Florence Farrell. This,’ she added, pointing to the child, ‘is your Miss Edney.’
The child came forward with an intensely serious expression on her young face.
‘Thank you for coming, Mr Holmes. I must apologise again for monopolising the time of such a busy and important person, but you are the only one who can help me.’
Sherlock Holmes’s face betrayed no emotion, but Miss Farrell must have sensed his reaction, for she said smoothly, ‘I think it might be as well to explain to Mr Holmes that you are a very special student of Dr Wallis. Dorothy is a brilliant linguist, gentlemen, and reads hieroglyphics as if she had grown up in ancient Egypt. If this matter concerns her, you can be confident that it is worthy of your attention.’
Sherlock Holmes nodded and turned to the little girl. ‘I will do the best I can for you, Miss Edney. Perhaps you might begin by recounting your experience.’
‘It would be easier to show you, Mr Holmes. If you would be so kind as to step this way?’
She led us with great self-importance through the museum. As we walked, I could not resist quietly congratulating Holmes on the accuracy of his deductions, although I had to admit that he had been a little astray in the matter of her age!
Miss Edney stopped in front of a glass cabinet in one of the rooms.
‘I come and stand here every day, in order to commune with the spirit of King Seti I, whose bust you see there on the middle shelf. He is very handsome, is he not? I feel a very deep affinity with him, Mr Holmes. I believe that one day I can use my gifts to increase our knowledge of his Dynasty.
‘Two days ago, I came here, as always, and found that something had happened. Seti I had moved! There, you will think me a silly child who is dreaming! I mean to say that he had been moved. I thought his new position was not a fitting one, and asked Dr Wallis if he might be returned to his old place. He assured me that the case has not been opened. He is very busy at present, but everyone I asked said the same thing. No one has opened the case, yet the bust has moved. That, Mr Holmes, is my mystery.’
This was so picturesque, and so beautiftilly told, that I felt myself charmed by the story. It was no more than a quaint trifle, admittedly’ but of sufficient interest to justify a walk on a fine day, and half an hour of the great detective’s time. And although Holmes evinced no particular fondness for children, he had a natural way with them, and they liked him.
I was, then, somewhat surprised to find that he had already lost interest in the little girl’s account, and had transferred his attention to another display case on the far side of the room.
‘The covering on the shelves in these cases is badly faded,’ he observed, irrelevantly. ‘Did you say in your letter that Dr Wallis was preparing for an exhibition?’
‘That is so,’ said Miss Farrell, a little testily, placing her arm around Dorothy’s shoulder. ‘The Metterling Stelé is to go on display soon, so he is too busy to address Dorothy’s question. Clearly, you also think the matter too trivial for your attention.’
‘On the contrary, Miss Farrell, it is a very serious matter’ a substantial theft at the very least, and young Miss Edney’s sharp powers of observation have brought it to light.
‘Do you see how the faded fabric on the shelves reveals the outline of any object that has been recently moved? It tells quite a tale to the trained eye. The portrait bust of Seti I has indeed been moved, as have several other pieces in that case. Their new positions serve to conceal the absence of a single object with a distinctive heptagonal base. The object in question, a fine falcon, now stands in the other case.’
‘You mean to say that it was moved from one case to another?’ I exclaimed. ‘For what reason?’
‘Why obviously to help mask a gap left by the removal of something large from the second case! As you can see, from the unfaded area left behind, the bottom edge of it was some fourteen inches long by two inches wide. Where can we find a full list of the contents of this second case?’
‘I have a guide book with me,’ offered Miss Farrell. ‘It should be a simple process of elimination to find what is missing.’
She consulted the book, then shook her head. ‘This cannot be! The missing item appears to be a carved stone plaque of late manufacture and indifferent workmanship. Yet the object moved in to help mask its absence
is a quite exquisite statue carved in haematite, and three thousand years old. Mr Holmes, the object used to mask the theft is worth many times the value of the object stolen.’
The moods of Sherlock Holmes were certainly mercurial. A moment before he had been deeply interested in the theft revealed by the young girl’s observations. Now, with the mystery deepened, rather than resolved, he seemed to lose all interest, and changed the subject abruptly.
‘Did you say that Dr Wallis is preparing an exhibition at present?’
‘The Metterling Stelé,’ replied Miss Farrell. ‘The museum has been trying to arrange its loan for over a decade.’
‘A Stelé is a kind of plaque is it not? Where is the object now?’
‘Still inside the case in which it arrived. It was removed and checked, of course, but then re-sealed until the day of the exhibition.’
‘Then I must see the Metterling Stelé immediately,’ said Holmes.
So insistent was he that Miss Farrell was forced to lead us to the office of Dr Wallis. He was a remarkable looking individual, short and stout with snow white hair that fell over his shoulders, a gigantic watch chain with an enormous gold coin, and a huge scarab ring almost covering a finger of his tiny white hands. He greeted us effusively, and made a particular fuss of Miss Edney. There was another man in the room who looked oddly familiar. To our surprise he turned out to be an eminent figure in Diplomatic Circles, and a friend of Holmes’s brother, Mycroft. I remembered then that we had seen him at the Diogenes Club.
Holmes recounted the sequence of events, and asked to see the Stelé. The old man shook his head angrily. ‘Mr Holmes, I am far too busy for this. The exhibition is very close now, its success is of particular importance, as Mr Crossland here can confirm; and to make matters worse my assistant, a man to whom I have entrusted the running of the department while I am so engaged, has gone missing.’
‘Nevertheless, doctor, I must urge you most strongly to examine the Metterling Stelé.’
‘Oh, very well, then; but it is a waste of precious time. It is here, in its case. As you can see the wax seal, which I placed upon it myself after examining the Stelé on arrival, is intact.’
‘Green wax, I see,’ observed Holmes.
‘Nile green actually,’ said Wallis with a smile. ‘A little touch of ours. Now, if we break the seal and open the lid. . . . There, as you see, the Stelé is wrapped in cloth, but clearly quite safe.’
‘Quite so. A glimpse of it would be quite enough to reassure you. Now be so kind as to unwrap it.’
‘Really, Mr Holmes, I know you mean well, but——’
Wallis froze in the act of unwrapping the contents. ‘This is not the Metterling Stelé!’
‘No, it is the plaque taken from the second case. It was chosen because it is exactly the same size and weight. Had it not been for young Miss Edney’s eye for detail, the disappearance might have remained undiscovered.’
‘Oh, my word!’ gasped Wallis, his face suffused with crimson at the thought. ‘Oh, my word!’
Mr Crossland seemed hardly less discomfited.
‘This is terrible, Mr Holmes. You cannot appreciate the significance of this. The loan of this object is the result of years of effort, and is part of diplomatic moves intended to stabilise a very volatile area of the Balkans. Count Metterling himself is part of the diplomatic negotiations, and he is very influential. We have cultivated his support for years. The loan of the Stelé is part of extended cultural exchanges, intended to lead up to the signing of several treaties and trade agreements.
‘Can you imagine what it will do to our efforts, and possibly the future peace of Europe, if an object as precious as this is lost? Metterling has kept the Stelé locked up in his castle, and allowed no one to see it, until now. It is a treasured family possession. If we have to tell him that it has disappeared within days of arriving in London, the work of years could be destroyed in a few seconds.
‘Let me put this to you very simply, Mr Holmes. On the day of the exhibition, three weeks from tomorrow, the Stelé must be standing in its place, or the consequences could be very grave for us all.’
‘Is it possible,’ I asked, ‘that this theft took place to sabotage your diplomatic efforts?’
‘I think not, Watson,’ said Holmes. ‘If that was the sole intention, it would have been easier to simply blow up an Embassy.’
Crossland wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
‘Please don’t say that, Mr Holmes! Don’t say that.’
‘Shouldn’t the police be alerted?’ asked Dr Wallis.
‘Only if you wish the world to know that the Stelé has been stolen,’ replied Holmes. ‘It has to be recovered without the fact of its loss falling into the hands of the press.’
‘Where would one even start?’ asked Miss Farrell.
‘With the assistant who has so recently disappeared. Such a theft could hardly take place without the assistance of someone within the museum. What do you know of this person?’
‘That he comes with the highest recommendation from the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Mr Meguid has made himself very useful to me in a short time. An extremely personable and conscientious young man. I believe the Egyptian Embassy made special arrangements on his behalf, so highly did they rate his talents.’
‘Quite so,’ muttered Holmes. ‘Let us look at the way this thing was done. Surely one would arrange a substitute object in advance, smuggle it into the building, and make one simple swap. But what do we find here? An object taken from a case on display, placed in another case to cover the absence of yet another object substituted for the Stelé. Does it not seem the improvisation of a man in a hurry, seizing an opportunity as it occurred?’
‘It is true that I have been so tied up with the arrangements for the exhibition that Meguid has been left very much to his own devices for days.’
‘Then he may have struck while the iron was hot.’
‘I swear the thing is cursed,’ complained Wallis. ‘On the way here it was involved in a train crash, a death, and a fire on the boat.’
‘One could just as easily say,’ replied Holmes, ‘that these were the first attempts to steal it!’
‘I still do not see how Meguid could be responsible. I remain in the museum long after he has gone. He would have had to regain entry, which rather defeats the object.’
‘Could he not have hidden until you had gone?’ asked young Miss Edney.
‘Not in the offices, I am sure. Perhaps among the exhibits?’
Holmes nodded.
‘Most probably somewhere among the great statues and architectural reconstructions in the entrance hall. These are places large enough for a man to hide in. Let us see for ourselves.’
Holmes led the way to the great entrance hall, where he prowled around the temple façades and colossi, stopping eventually before a monumental sarcophagus of greenish stone. With the aid of his magnifying lens, he subjected the floor around the sarcophagus, its sides, and its top edge to minute examination. Then with a grunt of satisfaction he hopped lightly on to the top and disappeared from view.
We peered over the edge, and found him lying full length, face down in the bottom, looking at a small object held between his fingers.
‘I would say this is the wrapping from some sweetmeat,’ he said. ‘Miss Edney, would you be so kind as to give us the benefit of your expertise?’
He handed the piece of paper to the little girl. She examined it, held it to her nose, and delivered a solemn pronouncement.
‘Bitter lemon drops.’
‘Always consult an expert,’ said Sherlock Holmes. ‘You were about to say something, Dr Wallis?’
Wallis looked somewhat crestfallen.
‘Meguid was very partial to bitter lemon drops.’
‘He ate them while he was waiting, and left the wrapper behind. This is where he lay.’
‘He took quite a risk,’ I remarked.
‘Unless he had good reason to suppose that no one would look inside.
It would be a simple enough thing. Perhaps he left some innocent object inside the sarcophagus and waited to see if it was discovered. When it was not, he could be quite confident in his hiding place. Your night watchmen should be a little more thorough in future!’
‘I also found this. In this case I think you can identify it, Dr Wallis—it looks to me like green wax.’
‘Nile green,’ conceded Wallis sadly.
‘He must have passed the time cleaning out your seal in preparation. Stamping the case once he had completed the swap must have seemed the perfect crowning touch.’
‘Don’t you think it is strange, Dr Wallis,’ asked young Miss Edney, ‘that this sarcophagus was made for Nectanebo II? The Metterling Stelé was made in his reign.’
‘Surely just a coincidence, my dear,’ replied Wallis.
‘That remains to be seen,’ muttered Holmes.
‘I have seen quite enough,’ interjected Crossland, ‘to convince me that you are the man who can help us, Mr Holmes. Will you take the case?’
‘I will be delighted to, despite grave doubts as to the chances of success. The Stelé could be taken anywhere. To locate it, catch those responsible, and return the object within three weeks could be a tall order. I may well be setting myself the most difficult challenge of my career. However, that merely underlines the need to begin at once. I suppose it is too much to hope that you have a photographic image of this young man?’
Wallis perked up at this. ‘I have indeed, Mr Holmes. Meguid has appeared in our Journal of Egyptian Studies. I can get a copy.’
‘His home will have to be searched too.’
‘We would be glad to be of any assistance, Mr Holmes,’ offered Miss Farrell.
‘That will be most helpful to us. Take the Journal to the Egyptian Embassy and learn what you can about Mr Meguid. With your permission, Mr Crossland, they might use your name? That is good. Watson, let us search this young man’s place of residence.’
The address supplied was a lodging house in Newington Butts. Meguid’s room was sparse and serviceable, and showed signs that it had been vacated at short notice. On opening the wardrobe our noses were assailed by a strong, sweet odour.