"Could you show me roughly the path of the bullet?" he asked.
Holmes indicated the windowpane through which the missile had passed. He then showed Ledger where the spent bullet had lodged itself in our floorboards. The man plotted the flight of the slug much as Holmes had done, and then gazed out at the night scene. After letting his eyes wander for a moment, he indicated a building, standing tall in the next block, to Holmes and myself, who were now beside him at the bow window.
"What might that be?" he inquired.
"The warehouse of Spears and Henry, the well-known liquor firm. The answer to your next question is yes. A man could have gained the roof without much difficulty and escaped from the area rapidly as well."
"That's the spot," stated Ledger. "It's a goodly distance, but a Sharps rifle could have made it."
Another quick glance passed between Holmes and myself. The sleuth knew that the Sharps was an American make, and he promptly proved it.
"It was a small bullet that I extracted from the floorboards."
"A Mauser, then," said Ledger. "The Germans are manufacturing them in quantity. A long-range high-velocity small-bore rifle using smokeless powder. Selling them to the Boers in Africa. There'll be some trouble down there one of these days."* Noting surprise on both our faces, he explained. "Mercenaries are rather tuned to such matters, you see."
*The masquerader called the turn here, far the Boer War broke out in 1899, and the British cavalry was decimated by the very weapon he described in the hands of master marksmen.
"I do," replied Holmes. "What is your thought regarding the shot? I'd better tell you that I think it was fired at a candle that was on the desk there." He indicated the spot he was referring to.
"Did he hit the candle?" asked Ledger quickly.
At Holmes's nod, a sigh escaped the man. "That helps, sir, for there's just so many that good."
"Could you have done it?" inquired Holmes.
For a split second there was a flashing smile of almost boyish bravado on our visitor's face. "If the other light in the room was dim, the candle would have stood out nicely. I think I could have hit the wick."
"So do I," replied Holmes, "and that's what I think our unknown shootist was aiming at."
It was obvious that Ledger appreciated the word unknown.
"It gives me an idea of where to look. The doctor here said you thought some of the hired sharpshooters were involved."
"You might consider the name of Ramsey Michael."
"That art critic chap who was murdered?"
"I'd be interested to know if any of the marksmen were ever approached by him."
"All right, Mr. Holmes." The pseudo-Ledger was no waster of words and took his departure at this point.
I was regarding Holmes with some concern. "What if the chap was involved in the robbery?"
"A possibility."
"Aren't you rather setting yourself up as a target?"
"We've been that for some time, Watson—both of us, if you will recall."
Holmes had taken the lamp from the small Duncan Phyfe table near the bow window and passed it across the panes of glass once. Replacing it, he caught me regarding him with amazement.
"I don't want Ledger detained by Burlington Bertie or Tiny, you see. The American just might be able to do us a considerable service."
Of course, I thought. He's got the premises staked out. Probably with arrangements to follow visitors if need be, which means the involvement of Slippery Styles, the human shadow. No wonder Holmes was so casual about a possible attempt on us.
Though unseen, the boys from Limehouse were on duty.
As I dwelled on this comforting fact, Holmes had seated himself at the desk and opened the message delivered by Billy at the time that the American had arrived. Now his eyes rose from the single sheet of foolscap.
"Most interesting. I sent Billy to the Diogenes Club with some questions for Mycroft. He provided a record of recent gold transactions for us, you recall."
The sleuth's thin and dexterous fingers indicated the message before him. "My brother assures me that Burton Hananish has not been involved in the sale of precious metal up to this time."
"You suspected that he had been?"
"When something works, there is a natural inclination to repeat it. With two bankers involved, I had a thought that the treasure train matter might be a sequel to a previous manipulation, sporting new trappings, of course."
"But, Holmes, there have been no big bullion robberies in recent years. I read the papers, too."
"Granted. But some family plate, old coins purloined from a collection, some dentures, and given the necessary equipment and expertise, it can all be melted down. Remove the alloy and you have pure gold, which can be poured into molds and—presto—gold bullion, as valuable as that taken from the treasure train."
Here was a new thought, and my mind raced to grasp it. "You picture a large-scale fencing operation to dispose of stolen gold by converting objects into metal."
"With the necessary purification. Gold is quite unique, Watson. Say you have a medallion of twenty-four-carat gold . . ."
"I wouldn't mind, really."
"Alas, we deal but in fantasy. Your medallion is beautifully engraved and valuable, but it is stolen. Being identifiable, the thief would be well advised to melt it down, for without its engraving and shaping, the object is still of value for it is pure gold."
"Your point being that my medallion could completely lose its identity without losing all its value."
"Which is more than can be said for precious jewels or rare paintings. But we wander far afield. I am dropping the fence idea and am now considering another more to the point."
Again Holmes tapped the letter on the desk. "My brother touches on a matter relative to the cable from von Shalloway."
"I wondered when you would bring that up. What has the esteemed chief of the Berlin police to do with this case?"
"He is our fastest and most accurate contact in mid-Europe. There are many twists and turns to this matter, Watson, but one fact stands out. We went to Gloucester to approach Hananish. I wished to see the man and size him up. In our interview, little was said that was not old hat. Yet shortly thereafter a dirty tricks brigade attempted to spirit you away with the idea of laying me by the heels as well. If Hananish was behind it, something must have been said that got his hackles up. I believe it was his inadvertent reference to the Deutsche Bank."
"That's why you contacted von Shalloway in Berlin."
"With good results. But let us deal with this in a step progression. One: the gold bonds of the Credit Lyonnais can be redeemed by the investors in two weeks, two: the five hundred thousand pounds' worth of gold on the treasure train has been stolen and, as of this moment, not recovered; three: according to von Shalloway, the Deutsche Bank has made an arrangement with the Bank of England . . ."
"Bank of England! What have they to do with this?"
Holmes admonished me with a waving forefinger. "Hear me out, Watson. The Deutsche Bank has arranged an option whereby they can purchase within the next ten days four hundred thousand pounds' worth of gold bullion now in the vaults of the Bank of England. The gold is registered in the name of Burton Hananish."
"I have it now," I exclaimed. "The Bank of England is acting as a clearing house for Hananish."
"Correct."
"And the Credit Lyonnais is, in effect, taking out insurance. In case Scotland Yard or Sherlock Holmes doesn't locate the stolen gold, they've made a deal with the Deutsche Bank to fulfill their needs."
"Your grasp of the situation is admirable, Watson. Of course the French made inquiries in banking circles as to the availability of the amount of gold they needed the moment the treasure train was robbed. What more natural that they should contact the Deutsche Bank? The two nations make a habit of snarling at each other but continue to do business much like the Greeks and the Turks. But doesn't it strike you that Hananish could have contacted the Credit Lyonnais directly?"