What are you looking for, Mr. Holmes?”
“Let us say I am interested in the workmanship of the Vulsin factory.”
Sanzio snapped his fingers and instantly a small boy of about ten years appeared.
“This is Pasqualino,” said Sanzio. “He will take you to the room of instruments. It is late, Mr. Holmes, and I have many things to attend to.”
“Thank you for you patience, Signore. I shall be quick.”
Holmes and I followed the boy down the stairs into the basement. Though the light was not strong we could follow Pasqualino to the pianos that were to be shipped to Egypt. Holmes lost no time. In a few seconds he was on the floor, moving from under one piano to another. I heard him give out an occasional chuckle and every so often a self-satisfied, full-bodied laugh.
“All right Watson, jot this down will you? Vulsin serial numbers: 178 to 1803.”
“What are these numbers. Holmes?” I asked.
“They will tell us which of these pianos has been altered in order to hold a special treasure for the Khedive. My examination was cursory, but I can tell you, Watson, one of the pianos carries a very large number of ten-pound notes. They are excellent counterfeit, and in Egypt no one will recognize the difference, or care for that matter. The remaining pianos will carry bags of Austrian Maria Teresa silver thaler , coinage highly prized by the Ethiopian soldiers who defeated the Italian Army at Adowa. And finally, dear Watson, you see the oversized grands in the corner there? They contain the latest examples of the Salzburg rifle, now the most accurate weapon of its kind available in Europe.”
“Good Lord, Holmes,” said I. “The pianos alone are worth a small fortune. What would be the worth of the cargo?”
“I would say old boy, well over two, possibly three million. Enough to fight a long-drawn-out war. The pianos are loaded with their cargo in Austria, where they are manufactured at the Vulsin factory just beyond the Italian border. They are shipped here to Rome by freight train, then sealed in metal cases, whence they are shipped to Lecce and are placed on the Egyptian steamer that takes them to Egypt. Once they leave Rome they are not opened again; hence their cargo is safe. Safer than any other mode of transportation. The disguise, Watson, I judge to be completely successful. The question for us is where and by whom these instruments are turned into mere containers. These pianos hold a large fortune, enough to supply more than one sizable army with its needs for at least a year of fighting.”
Holmes stood still for a moment.
“Listen, Watson, a noise. Did you hear it?”
“Yes, it came from behind the basement door there, a groan—”
Holmes strode over to the door and I pulled out my revolver. Slowly he turned the knob.
As the door opened, a man bound and gagged, resting on his haunches, fell forward before us, dead.
“This time the real thing,” said Holmes.
We removed the gag and the rope and sent a quaking Pasqualino to summon Sanzio.
“He’s dead, Holmes, but—”
“Santoro, no doubt,” said Holmes.
Sanzio turned pale when he entered. “ Mio amico è morto. Chi l’ha ucciso? Who killed him?”
“I have my suspicions, but only time will tell. Note that his position is that of a beheading, Watson, just before the executioner strikes. I suspect that we may find out who the attacker was after we find Mr. Herbert Spenser, and la Signora Santoro. Please call Ispettore Grimaldi,” he continued. “We shall await his arrival.”
Santoro’s body lay stiff on the floor, and I covered it with my coat. He had been dead for several hours and the sound that had alerted us to his presence was, perhaps, an involuntary gasp.
“He is just as much a suppliant as a victim, Holmes. I suppose we must tell Grimaldi to go after Spenser,” I said.
“Indeed, and Santoro’s wife. A well-organized attempt to smuggle all this contraband has fallen apart with Santoro’s death.”
Grimaldi was there
“Let us say I am interested in the workmanship of the Vulsin factory.”
Sanzio snapped his fingers and instantly a small boy of about ten years appeared.
“This is Pasqualino,” said Sanzio. “He will take you to the room of instruments. It is late, Mr. Holmes, and I have many things to attend to.”
“Thank you for you patience, Signore. I shall be quick.”
Holmes and I followed the boy down the stairs into the basement. Though the light was not strong we could follow Pasqualino to the pianos that were to be shipped to Egypt. Holmes lost no time. In a few seconds he was on the floor, moving from under one piano to another. I heard him give out an occasional chuckle and every so often a self-satisfied, full-bodied laugh.
“All right Watson, jot this down will you? Vulsin serial numbers: 178 to 1803.”
“What are these numbers. Holmes?” I asked.
“They will tell us which of these pianos has been altered in order to hold a special treasure for the Khedive. My examination was cursory, but I can tell you, Watson, one of the pianos carries a very large number of ten-pound notes. They are excellent counterfeit, and in Egypt no one will recognize the difference, or care for that matter. The remaining pianos will carry bags of Austrian Maria Teresa silver thaler , coinage highly prized by the Ethiopian soldiers who defeated the Italian Army at Adowa. And finally, dear Watson, you see the oversized grands in the corner there? They contain the latest examples of the Salzburg rifle, now the most accurate weapon of its kind available in Europe.”
“Good Lord, Holmes,” said I. “The pianos alone are worth a small fortune. What would be the worth of the cargo?”
“I would say old boy, well over two, possibly three million. Enough to fight a long-drawn-out war. The pianos are loaded with their cargo in Austria, where they are manufactured at the Vulsin factory just beyond the Italian border. They are shipped here to Rome by freight train, then sealed in metal cases, whence they are shipped to Lecce and are placed on the Egyptian steamer that takes them to Egypt. Once they leave Rome they are not opened again; hence their cargo is safe. Safer than any other mode of transportation. The disguise, Watson, I judge to be completely successful. The question for us is where and by whom these instruments are turned into mere containers. These pianos hold a large fortune, enough to supply more than one sizable army with its needs for at least a year of fighting.”
Holmes stood still for a moment.
“Listen, Watson, a noise. Did you hear it?”
“Yes, it came from behind the basement door there, a groan—”
Holmes strode over to the door and I pulled out my revolver. Slowly he turned the knob.
As the door opened, a man bound and gagged, resting on his haunches, fell forward before us, dead.
“This time the real thing,” said Holmes.
We removed the gag and the rope and sent a quaking Pasqualino to summon Sanzio.
“He’s dead, Holmes, but—”
“Santoro, no doubt,” said Holmes.
Sanzio turned pale when he entered. “ Mio amico è morto. Chi l’ha ucciso? Who killed him?”
“I have my suspicions, but only time will tell. Note that his position is that of a beheading, Watson, just before the executioner strikes. I suspect that we may find out who the attacker was after we find Mr. Herbert Spenser, and la Signora Santoro. Please call Ispettore Grimaldi,” he continued. “We shall await his arrival.”
Santoro’s body lay stiff on the floor, and I covered it with my coat. He had been dead for several hours and the sound that had alerted us to his presence was, perhaps, an involuntary gasp.
“He is just as much a suppliant as a victim, Holmes. I suppose we must tell Grimaldi to go after Spenser,” I said.
“Indeed, and Santoro’s wife. A well-organized attempt to smuggle all this contraband has fallen apart with Santoro’s death.”
Grimaldi was there
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