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"What is your plan?"

"Fate may be forming one for me."

Holmes retreated for a moment into his inner world of contemplation, emerging from it quickly with a trace of apology in his sharp eyes.

"Let us consider the situation, ol' comrade. Chu San Fu is convinced that we have the Golden Bird in our possession. The information reaching him in his Limehouse headquarters positions us firmly in his sights. I am in hopes that this fact will not prompt any rapid move on his part but rather lull him into some carefully arranged plan to secure the object of his desire."

"Here we are then, the sitting ducks."

"But knowledgeable ducks, Watson. How much better to have our adversary come at us where we reside in strength than to go about our daily existence casting looks of apprehension over our shoulders. I well recall when Moriarty was bent on my destruction and I adopted the role of a moving target. It was a nerve-wracking time."

I nodded instinctively, remembering clearly that period immediately prior to the downfall of the Napoleon of crime, when Holmes had avoided open windows like a plague and walked in the shadows and only at night. It flashed through my mind that at that time he had mentioned that it was stupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognize danger when it was close upon you.

"You certainly expect them to make a move. Why not have MacDonald's men on the premises?"

"If we flush the grouse, they will settle elsewhere. The obvious presence of the constabulary will prompt a change of plans, which I don't want." My expression caused him to continue. "Yes, good chap, I'm inviting an attempt on our quarters."

I must say this line of thinking was wearing my patience thin.

"See here, Holmes, you preach the doctrine of rationality. If it's a confrontation you desire, I'm with you, as you know. But where is the advantage? The Golden Bird, due to your far-sighted planning, is as safe as if it were in the vaults of the bank of London. Intruders cannot gain by their efforts. But neither can we. Chu San Fu will not be present if an assault is made. The matter will be handled by his dacoits and Chinese scrag-men. If we trap them, what do we gain? Suddenly, they lose any knowledge of English, respond to all questions in their native tongue and. look bewildered. If I judge the hold Chu has on his followers, five to ten in Pentonville will not frighten them into betraying him."

An additional confirmation of my theorizing crossed my mind and I voiced it. "No doubt, his people have family in China on whom the master criminal could wreak vengeance. An additional guarantee of silence."

Holmes had been gazing at me with an almost beatific expression of satisfaction.

"My good chap, obviously our years together have not been wasted. You have given a surface evaluation which would command respect at a conclave of Scotland Yard inspectors."

My momentary elation was chilled by the cold water of second thought. "But where have I missed? Were I right, you would argue the point."

Holmes indulged in a chuckle. "You know me too well. In answer, let us lift the carpet of your thoughts and look beneath. Who is our opponent? How does he think? In what way will he react? Were we expecting a visitation from Count Negretto Sylvius, Dowson's chief lieutenant, I might not be sitting here so smugly. Sylvius is much inclined toward spur-of-the-moment action. He is impetuous, hence irrational and difficult to anticipate. But Chu San Fu is cut from different cloth. A planner. If lulled into the belief that we are the sitting ducks you mentioned, he will meticulously polish every facet of his scheme. Like all master criminals, he has two audiences to deal with."

"How so?"

"His first purpose is to hoodwink me. But he must do so in the manner of the magician to impress those who follow his flag. A great deal of his power is psychological. Show me the army that believes its general cannot fail and I'll show you a victorious one. The aura of omnipotence is indispensable to one like Chu San Fu."

"If so," I thought, "he's not alone in that." I'd seen many a hardened criminal fall before the name of Sherlock Holmes. Seldom had my friend been so loquacious regarding a case, but patience is not one of my virtues.

"See here, your reasoning, as always, is quite faultless but how does it affect your purpose in this matter? I'm still in the dark."

"Let the Oriental strike, Watson, since we can almost set the time. But let the results be unknown. If he tastes either victory or defeat, he will know what to do. But if he is in doubt, then we turn his intricate mind against himself. Doubt and egotism cannot coexist. We'll make him vulnerable yet, good chap."

As though satisfied with his review of the situation, for I was no more than an audience to his assessment, a background sound to provide punctuations to his sentences, Holmes rose and turned off the gramophone at a suitable point, appearing at the window again at intervals to keep our watchers assured of his presence. The afternoon wore on, though not without incident.

Several times, Wiggins slipped into the house through the back to report to Holmes and leave with written instructions for unknown destinations. As the early darkness of a winter's evening approached, Gilligan materialized. To my mind, he never appeared but suddenly became present. I assumed that he came in over the roof. Now Holmes had no time for play-acting and resorted to the most lifelike waxwork reproduction of himself created by Tavernier, the French modeler, a device which he had used to good effect in former times and would, indeed, use again.

Seated in an armchair with Holmes's dressing gown, the effigy was startlingly lifelike and could fool someone within our sitting room, to say nothing of watchers without. I was assigned the job of adjusting the move-able head from time to time and to all intents the great detective was placidly reading a book. Needless to say, I took great precautions with my job, but managed to keep my ears attuned to the animated conversation between the cracksman and Holmes.

"I went over the Barker digs and gave it the full treatment, Guv. There's nothin' wot's 'id there. That's the first thing I established. So I give 'is belongin's a real hard look. 'E weren't one fer makin' notes and 'e traveled light."

"A temporary residence," said Holmes. "Barker's home was in Surrey."

"I went over 'is books carefully, lookin' for some clue. 'E had the usual bible, a Bradshaw, Whitaker's Almanac, a 'ole batch of railroad timetables."

"Standard equipment, the last. Barker did quite a bit of traveling in his line of work."

"There wuz a complete copy of the works of Edgar Allan Poe and I went through that page for page. A bust. Then there wuz this kinda strange piece o' work."

I noted that the cracksman extracted a slim volume from a pocket. "I brung it wiv me, Guv."

Holmes seized the volume eagerly and his manner betrayed excitement as he read the title.

"Jonathan Wild, Master Criminal" He threw a glance of triumph at me.

"Again Wild appears in this tangle. Let's see. Published by Leadenhall Press. Obviously, a limited edition and I would judge not well-received since it has never come to my attention. An old volume, but Wild was at his zenith in the last century and his career was not common knowledge even then." Holmes had been leafing through the book as he spoke. "Evidently, this was written by a member of the Wild gang who was apprehended and served out his time and later attempted to capitalize on the dubious reputation of his former master. It will bear close inspection."

"You feel you've stumbled onto something?" I asked, as bait to learn what intrigued the sleuth.

"Wild keeps coming up. Lindquist told us that it was Wild's man, Hawker, who stole the Bird from the Island of Rhodes. Barker had learned something that he tried to tell Lindquist before he died. Barker had this book. Surely, there is a connection." Suddenly, Holmes's lips tightened with a grimace. "It just occurred to me that I told Basil Selkirk about the Rhodes incident. I wonder if that was the service that I performed for the financier and for which he sent me the Golden Bird?"