Free Unknown by Unknown

the museum in Dubrovnik around
1810. You will recall that the walled city blunted
the sword of Islam when the muslem tide engulfed other parts of
the Balkans. It is reasonably well-established that the Bird was
given to the Turks as part of
a peace offering. Then it vanished again."
    "Until it turned up in a shop
on the Island of Rhodes and
was stolen. Then it vanished again, resurfacing in Constantinople."
Holmes's voice dwindled away and he seemed in a deep brown study.
    "Obviously, something
intrigues you about this series of
events, Mr. Holmes."
    The sleuth nodded. There was a
touch of irritation in his
manner, indicating that a thread of thought was proving
annoyingly elusive.
    "The Tartars probably gained
the Bird as a prize of conquest. After all, they systematically
looted a large portion of the civilized world of their time. It's
progress from the
Russians to the French and, finally, the Dutch bankers
is reasonable. The fact that it disappeared after a
fire is not unusual. It might have been discovered by almost
anyone in the ruins and its worth not realized. Its
passage from the Serbians to the Turks is also straightforward. But
then something happened. It ap pears
in Rhodes and is stolen. In its long history this is the
first definite indication of criminal involvement and quite
a criminal at that. As soon as it appeared in Con stantinople,
it was stolen again."
    "Your facts are accurate, Mr.
Holmes, but what thought
do they prompt?" D'Anglas's elephantine face was
regarding Holmes intently. Had a tinge of alarm crept
into his manner?
    "The facts warrant an
assumption," said Holmes. "Between
the time the Bird was in the possession of the Turks
and its appearance on the Island of Rhodes, something
happened. Something made the statue more valuable."
    D'Anglas permitted himself a
smile. "The interest in collections
grew, Mr. Holmes. Also an appreciation of fine craftsmanship and
ancient artifacts. With the com ing
of modern times, art objects are not as plentiful as in
times gone by."
    "And your interest in the
Bird, Mr. D'Anglas?" Holmes's
tone was casual, but I had a feeling that this was a major piece in
the puzzle he was fitting together.
    The man spread his large and
knobby hands. "Call it a compulsion, sir. I am a goldsmith by
trade as was my father
and his father before him. It was my grandfather who first fell under
the spell of the Bird. Drawings of it exist you know. He felt that
the ancient object was the finest
example of his art in existence. His passion for the
golden roc must have been communicable, for my father
was equally obsessed with the desire to possess it. Being without
family, I am able to indulge myself some what
and the pursuit of the Bird has become the driving force in my life
as well."
    The man's dull eyes had been
sparked with an inner light
for a moment but now the mental fire was banked. "For a wondrous
moment I felt that the quest of three generations was ended and that
the Bird would be mine before
my time had come. Now, alas, I'm not so sure."
    My medical training would not let
this ominous re mark
go unchallenged. "Surely, you are a man not be yond
the prime of life. Your magnum
opus still lies within your reach."
    D'Anglas's face slowly registered
appreciation for my encouragement. "Nils
desperandum," he
muttered. Then his
mood shifted and became grim. "However, my family
is short-lived on the male side. Unless . . ."
    His ponderous jaws snapped shut
and he summoned a
smile that was more an exercise of his facial muscles than any
reflection of mirth. His massive head shifted toward Holmes. "My
general health and longevity po tential
are of no assistance to you in your search. Tell me,
sir, is there any other information regarding the Bird
which I can furnish you?"
    Holmes, who had been listening
intently to my words with D'Anglas and not drifting off into his own
mental kingdom as he sometimes did, signified that he had no
additional questions.
    "Then, perhaps, you'll answer
one of