CHAPTER 2.
After Zisman had gone, Basil showed Selkirk the door as well, then came back to the living-room and began pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, lighting his pipe as he went, the smoke trailing along behind him and infusing the room with a faint smell of allspice.
"I say, Basil, what are you doing? You can't possibly think the case is quite that simple…"
"I don't," Basil said shortly. "In fact, we may find it rather more complex than we originally supposed. But first, we must get more details."
"About the missing—?"
"No. About the sapphire."
"You know what it is?" I was astonished, as I am so often with my illustrious friend.
"I have some idea. You may recall, some months ago, when an elderly gentleman called upon us to consult us in a matter of foreign affairs… I believe you titled it "The Prussian Principality"? By the way, Dawson, the titles you give our adventures are really atrocious."
"By all means, Basil, you're free to suggest your own," I retorted.
"No, no, my dear chap, you know I haven't got the right temperament… Oh, don't look so down in the mouth, they're quite all right as far as detective stories go. Anyway, you remember it?"
I did remember, quite well. It had been a blustery winter day, and Basil and I were holed up against the weather. Basil was tinkering around with his machines and chemicals, and I was reading the latest edition of the Oxford medical journal, which contained a reprint of one of my own articles. There came a sudden commotion just outside the door, and we rushed out to the street to find an elderly fellow, suffering from deep gashes on his face and neck. We brought him inside and when he had got over his shock, he told us he had been mugged.
He further explained that he was foreign minister of Germany, on holiday in London for a fortnight. His traveling companion, an emissary from the Ottoman sultan, had gone missing, and the Prussian had come to ask Basil to locate him, which he did with the customary alacrity. However, along the trail we had uncovered a separate, tangled plot involving the crown jewels of Romania. I am still not entirely clear on what the connections were, but from what I understood, the Turk was in fact a spy working incognito in the Rumanian court. He had been entrusted with the crown jewels until the coronation of the new royal couple, but had since been treating them with light-fingered contempt. The jewels, so far as I knew, were still scattered throughout Europe, probably gathering dust in the collection of some private collector. Among them had been the sapphire about which Basil now spoke, apparently a magnificent specimen, celebrated on the continent and here in Britain. How such a small kingdom as Rumania came to possess it, I shall never know.
At present I became aware that Basil was speaking to me, so I hastened out of my reminiscences.
"I believe the mysterious gem is none other than the specimen which rightfully belongs to the Rumanian monarchy."
"But what makes you so certain?" I asked.
"Two facts, Dawson. First, our client Mr Zisman is of Rumanian descent, and whether he is misleading us on some count or merely neglecting to mention an important point, I have a feeling he may have more to tell us. Secondly, that sapphire is the only sapphire in the world that could merit such singular interest in its whereabouts. It is far superior to any other of its kind in size, clarity, and color."
I nodded. "So are we to go on the trail of the sapphire then?"
"I started from the wrong end of the trail last time, a mistake which I do not intend to make again. The disappearances may be coincidences, they may not be, but almost certainly those who are interested in the sapphire are dangerous, and it would behoove us to find them first."
"What will be our first step?" I asked, for I was nearly as eager to begin as I imagined my friend was. Several months of relative inaction had begun to grate on me as well.
"To start, I shall have to make some inquiries on my own. However, you can still be of some assistance. It couldn't hurt to know more about the disappearances. Go to Scotland Yard and see what you can wheedle out of the inspectors there. Let's meet up back here at seven o'clock. Now don't get caught up with niceties, Dawson."
"No Basil," I said, smiling. "I'll be here on the hour." As I got up to leave though I couldn't help reflecting that Basil was something of the pot calling the kettle black. I could recall many times when he had been late, very late to a rendezvous. But it wasn't something one pointed out, not to the world's greatest detective. Even I, who spent so much time with Basil, at times was intimidated by him.
