A figure leaning over a huge table turned towards us and, with a departing glance at the subject of his scrutiny, crossed in our direction. The Egyptologist was beardless, with flaxen hair streaked here and there with gray and a broad, pink, good-humored face. His waistcoat had apparently given up its efforts to compass his girth, but he moved quickly enough and his handshake was firm.
"Mr. Holmes, of course, and this must be Doctor Watson, whose words have provided many a fascinating hour. I'm honored, gentlemen."
It was immediately obvious to me that Andrade was a splendid fellow. As he indicated available chairs in the very large room in which we stood, I surveyed the interior of this quaint Italian house. That the hieroglyphics expert or a predecessor had instituted extensive remodeling was apparent. The walls to what had to be a combined living room and study rose two stories to an ornamental plaster ceiling that was quite magnificent.
There were numerous bookcases well filled as befitted the home of a scholar. The south wall was interesting indeed, containing a first-story gallery running the depth of the house and reached by a curved staircase. Off the upper landing, guarded by a wooden balustrade, was but one door, and I assumed that the master bedchamber was there. Windows, which formerly served the original first story, now provided two rows of apertures for the large central chamber. During the day, I imagined, the area was brightly lit by sunlight even though there were no windows in the walls other than the one that constituted the front of the house. Behind us and to the right of the entrance door must be the kitchen facilities, possibly servants' quarters as well, I thought. The remainder, save for that portion of the first floor facing onto the gallery, was one large open room lit by chandeliers and with Hepplewhite furniture tastefully positioned. The walls were festooned with pictures, all of Egyptian scenes. There was a delightful feeling of space. The room was dominated by the oaken table Andrade had been at when we arrived. It was strewn with pictures, calipers, dividers, parallel rules, and other equipment that I could not recognize. I sensed that Andrade worked mainly on his feet, circling the table that was the focus of his area of activity.
Having seated his visitors, Andrade leaned against the table and surveyed us with a half-smile.
"I came, Mr. Holmes, to Venice to insure privacy and must admit that I was a bit put out when Mr. Orloff appeared on the scene." He shot a quick look at our friend, who was in the process of lighting one of the thin Mexican cigars that he fancied.
"However, his credentials were so impressive that I could not refuse him an audience, and a good thing, too, since he has done me a great service." Andrade's eyes shifted to a pile of photographs on the table and then he moved to sink, somewhat slowly, into a large armchair. "Then he requested that I meet with you, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. Now, I would be a dullard indeed if I did not think that a visit from the world's foremost detective is connected with the Egyptian research I'm involved in."
"It is," replied Holmes. "My—our—investigations are not of an archaeological nature, but they do seem to point to Egypt, and you are the first new element in hieroglyphics since Champollion."
Andrade's full lips twisted in a slight grimace. "The Frenchman gets all the credit. Not that he doesn't deserve it, you know. Positive genius. Spoke Latin, Greek, and Hebrew by the age of eleven. Mastered Arabic, Syrian, Chaldean, and Coptic in two years. However, our own Thomas Young is rather overlooked. It was he who deduced that in hieroglyphics the royal names were inscribed in oval frames."
"Cartouches," said the sleuth.
The Egyptologist's eyes brightened and he regarded Holmes with even more respect.
"Exactly, sir. You have a familiarity with the subject. But I take us from the matter at hand. You want to know if I have been successful in decoding the secret writings."
"That's it," replied Holmes.
Andrade stirred uncomfortably in his chair. "Of course, you understand that our discussion is highly confidential. Later this year I will deliver an address to a group of skeptical and, in many cases, antagonistic colleagues. It will serve my purposes best if they are not aware of my full revelations. Then I intend to publish a paper that might have the same reception as Champollion's 'Letter to M. Dacier in regard to the alphabet of the phonetic hieroglyphics.'" His mouth pursed for a moment and then he gave vent to a sigh of resignation. "Well, not quite as earth-shaking, since Champollion was first. No matter, I can give you an answer for the first time."
As though the thought of his quest produced a sudden surge of energy, Andrade rose from his chair and crossed nervously to the table. Turning, he slid his posterior onto its surface. Had he crossed his legs beneath him, there would have been a resemblance to a seated Buddha. His arms behind him, he leaned back and there was a creak of protest from the oak, but the table was stoutly constructed. Andrade's eyes had an almost dreamy look as though he was reliving the work of years, which in fact he was.
"It was the temple of Abu Simbel that first aroused the curiosity of scholars, myself included. It lies a hundred miles south of Karnak and is the largest monolithic sculpture in the world. The temple is cut into a solid sandstone cliff, and its facade is covered with huge effigies of Rameses Second. Inside the temple, in the inner sanctuary, is another statue of Rameses Second, and underneath it a number of inscriptions that have defied translation. Thomas Young became intrigued with the idea of another form of hieroglyphics, and this theory, to which I subscribed, was buttressed by certain golden tablets that had shown up. They are very rare. Grave robbers must have melted them down in times gone by. Then, with the coming of our modern era, they realized that the genuine article was worth much more to a great museum or wealthy collector than the basic worth of the precious metal."
"Three of the tablets are in the possession of the Egyptian Museum, and I have seen copies of the inscriptions but never the tablets. In the beginning, all I had to work with were the inscriptions at Abu Simbel. I did decode the secret writing, developing certain ideas of Young, but that's another story. What I needed desperately was confirmation of my findings. Now it is common knowledge in the field that Giovanni Balzoni, the Italian archaeologist and adventurer, came upon two more golden tablets not long before his death early in the century. He got them out of Egypt, for things were very easygoing in those days, but they disappeared. Then they turned up fifty years later and were purchased by Mannheim, the great German collector. Since they were the only golden tablets outside of Egypt, Mannheim made quite a fuss about his acquisition, and they were stolen from him and have not reappeared to this day."
I could not contain myself any longer. "But what have these ancient tablets to do with your discovery?" I asked. Happily, Andrade seemed to welcome my question.
"Proof positive, Doctor Watson. I have translated the Rameses inscriptions along with all the copies of the known tablets that I could secure, but I needed more material to work on."
He waved a large hand in the direction of Wakefield Orloff. "It was here that this gentleman came to my aid."
Holmes was regarding the security agent with surprise.
"Don't tell me that in such a short time you located the Mannheim tablets?"
As Orloff laid aside his cigar, it was Andrade who fielded the conversational ball.
"Almost as good, Mr. Holmes. He secured photographs of them."
Andrade slid off the table and spread a pile of large photographs on its surface.
"Here, gentlemen, are pictures of the Mannheim tablets, which I have translated as conclusive proof that the riddle of the secret writings is no more."
We all clustered round the table. The pictures were of rows of inscriptions taken from various angles. To me they were but a series of carvings bearing no relation to a written language, but Holmes seemed intrigued and Andrade was positively bubbling with joy as he pointed to various lines of ancient text.