Holmes arrived in Marichakudi the following morning and went, according to instructions, to a small hotel on Chetty Street. The innkeeper handed him a note from Vansittart saying that he would expect him at the circuit house at four that afternoon.

"My room was a misery, hot and breathless, with only a small window blocked by a piece of torn brown paper that buzzed with flies occasionally, and placed there by some previous occupant in a vain effort to keep out the swarms of insects hovering outside. In the center of the room, there was a filthy bed over which had been hung an old mosquito net. I climbed in to catch a moment's rest, but I quickly abandoned the notion as I felt the small but sharp bites of a variety of Asiatic pests. I decided then to have my first look at Pearl Town, as the central bazaar of the pearl fisheries is known. It was of no solid construction and displayed many of the shoddy aspects of a settlement that had gone up almost overnight. Little would remain of it after the fisheries were over, I thought, including my ramshackle hotel. The town was merely a row of cajang huts, thrown up temporarily to house the pearl fishers and the many merchants, with vile conditions for food and drink."

As he approached the main road known as Tank Street, he saw that he was only a few yards from the sh.o.r.e. There, hundreds of boats were engaged in complicated manoeuvres, some landing, others on their way out to the pearl beds, having disgorged their harvest onto the sh.o.r.e. The pearl fisheries he found grossly offensive, particularly to the olefactory sense, and to the eyes as well. The mollusks, collected from the sea by thousands of pearl divers, were delivered to the sh.o.r.e in large jute bags. They were then dumped from the sacks into large vats, sometimes into small boats secured on the sh.o.r.e, where they were allowed to rot in the sun. The rotting process softens the flesh in which the pearls are embedded. It is through the decaying slime that the searchers probe for the pearls, sifting through the ugly oyster jelly for gems of the slightest weight, even of a half grain.

"Shakespeare was quite right, Watson," said Holmes. "A foul odor inevitably surrounds the pearl. The discovery of no other gem causes such a stench, and it is difficult to convey the odor produced by some twenty million sea animals rotting in the tropical sun, covered by large swarms of bluebottle flies and their maggots gnawing away at the sweet, rotting flesh. But this is the method chosen by the native pearl fishers and sanctioned by our agents, for the entire process is in Government's hands. Somewhere in that disgusting jelly, I thought, a human hand had entered and found to its great surprise the object of my journey. Now I had to find it once again."

From the rotting sh.o.r.e to the long line of pearl merchants was but a few feet. The shops were no more than lean-tos, sometimes no more than a large umbrella under which the jeweller sat to block the heat of the sun. It was there that the pearl fishers brought their share of the harvest, selling it to the dealers who drill the pearls, transforming them into the things of beauty that grace the heads and shoulders of the rich. No more varied group of faces could be found anywhere, for the merchants and their agents came from every civilised country. Holmes found himself accosted at every turn by hands extended, offering every conceivable size and shape of pearl Overcome by the stench and the heat, and tired of repulsing the touts and purveyors of these gems, he returned to his room, thinking to vary at least the discomforts which he saw were to be inevitably his over the next few days. Beyond the rudimentary aspects of the pearl fisheries, he had learned nothing of the whereabouts or even the existence of his quarry Once in his room, locating the great pearl seemed far less important than coming to grips with his more immediate difficulties. His ankles were covered with already bloated leeches. Previous experience in the Himalayas had taught him that a lit cigarette, pressed strategically on their backs, often compels them to release their grip. Once this was done, and he was freed from this annoyance, he sat in the only chair in the room, and began his battle with the flies. They came at him from every direction. Having had no previous experience with such devils, he began to despair. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He opened to see his dear friend, Gorashar.

"Lemon juice," he said as he sprayed Holmes's face and head with a squirter. The flies disappeared instantly.

"I must say, Watson, that except for my happiness at greeting you on a number of occasions, I was never so happy in my life at seeing another human being. After receiving my message, Gorashar had taken the first available train to Ceylon. Once arrived in Pearl Town, he had located "the Englishman in the bazaar" in a matter of minutes. I had not seen him in almost a year and after we exchanged pleasantries, I told him of my mission."

Gorashar's face darkened. "This pearl is no longer in Pearl Town. It is in Trincomalee, now in the hands of the Atkinson brothers, famous dealers in gemstones."

Gorashar already knew much, and Holmes asked him to pursue his inquiries as diligently and as discreetly as possible. Gorashar said that he would report to him that night all that he could discover. Holmes felt relieved, for Gorashar, unlike "the Englishman in the bazaar" could do many things and go many places without attracting inordinate attention.

Gorashar left, and Holmes took a rickshaw directly to the circuit house to his meeting with Vansittart. A peon informed him that Vansittart would see him in the inner garden at once.

The garden of the circuit house was a small English oasis, filled with flowers and trees, obviously well attended. In the shade in one corner sat two men dressed in white, the attire of the colonial servant. The older of the two nodded to Holmes as he entered.

"Welcome, Mr. Holmes, to Ceylon. I am Anthony Vansittart and this is my successor, somewhat recently arrived himself, Mr. Arthur Wellesley."

"My name should be used sparingly in public, if at all," said Holmes, "for even though some of my enemies may now have gathered that I am still alive, they do not necessarily know where I am. For all purposes here in Ceylon, I am Roger Lloyd-Smith, archaeologist, here on a.s.signment from the University of London."

"Forgive my indiscretion, Professor."

As he spoke, Holmes observed both men closely, and took a long look round the garden. Vansittart was the older, a large man, tall and stout, with a full head of white hair under his straw hat, florid of face, in many ways an unmistakable Englishman in the tropics. His speech was that of the seasoned government servant, knowledgeable and sympathetic, and his blue eyes appeared to be without guile. Wellesley, a far younger man, was very different. In his early thirties, he was in some ways a kind of half man, hair neither light nor dark, a face not unpleasant but of no strong character, and of medium build. He looked as though he had been ill, for he was overly pale, and his eyes were sunken and bloodshot. They showed a certain weakness, and when he spoke Holmes saw that his teeth had been ruined, most probably by the overuse of intoxicants and opium.

"You should know," continued Vansittart, "that I shall be leaving rather quickly-in one week, to be exact-for England. I have been here for three years, and I return home having completed this, my last a.s.signment. In your work, you will be aided primarily by Arthur here. He has been briefed fully on the task given to you, and has my full confidence."

"Thank you. I often work alone and unaided, but I of course shall avail myself of your help as events unfold. What is the latest report on the pearl?"

"Our information is still rather sketchy and incomplete," said Wellesley. "And somewhat contradictory. The early reports, gathered by our agents in the bazaar, stated that the pearl had been found here at Pearl Town by a young Tamilian woman, Thyagamma by name. She had been a.s.ssigned to sort through a large vat of molluscs by her father, an expert pearl diver by the name of Nelusko, in whose share of the harvest the pearl was located. She brought the pearl to her father as soon as she found it, and the two immediately left their quarters, a small hut on Tank Street not far from here, and absconded. They have not been seen, except for a report that they had been sighted travelling by foot on the road to Trincomalee."

"Trincomalee," said Holmes," still then the home of the Atkinson brothers, the chief gem merchants of the Indian world."

"Precisely. I am astonished that you would know of them."

"Some time ago, I was consulted on the disappearance of a star sapphire, a case in which they played a large role."

"Since that time, there has been a change in the firm of which you may not be aware," continued Vansittart. "The Atkinson brothers are gone and the firm sold to an Arab jeweller, one Abdul Latif, who has shrewdly kept the old name of the firm. Latif is a stiff bargainer, and plays the game even harder than the Atkinsons. It is possible that the pearl is already in his possession. If it is, I would imagine that Nelusko and his daughter received next to nothing for it."

Vansittart stopped short as his eyes caught sight of a tall, thin figure entering the garden, making his way slowly towards the shade of large bamboo grove at the other end. He wore Arab dress, and as he took his seat, Holmes caught a glimpse of his face. His features and colour were neither Indian nor Cingalese, and Holmes recognised him immediately.

"Arthur," said Vansittart, "please do the needful. See that he lacks nothing."

Wellesley got up and went over to the bamboo grove and sat down with the man. He took a deck of cards from his pocket, and the two men became immediately engrossed in the game.

"Arabi Pasha," said Holmes. "the Egyptian leader. I had forgotten that he had been exiled here."

Vansittart appeared somewhat surprised at his words.

"Yes, indeed. You are most observant. He is now in his twelfth year of imprisonment in this paradise, shall we say. You know his story. He foolishly issued a proclamation to his countrymen that he was inspired by the Prophet to free the country of its foreign rulers. His forces were defeated at Tel el-Kabir and he was taken prisoner. Condemned to death by our tribunal, his sentence was later commuted to life in exile. So far Allah and the Prophet have chosen not to free him. He has been one of my most onerous tasks, a heavy ball and chain, for in my three years here, he has been with me almost constantly. Wherever I have gone, he has come accompanied by two guards, who watch him while I sleep. Poor man, he wants nothing more than to return to his country, to spend his last days with his family somewhere in sight of the Nile. But Government refuses any commutation of his life sentence. For someone from the desert, the tropical climate of Ceylon is particularly difficult. And so he quietly plots his escape as he plays cards all day. Despite our best efforts, he seems to communicate regularly with elements friendly to his cause. How he sends his messages I haven't a clue. Twice he has almost made his escape, but he has not been successful in my time, thank G.o.d."

"He will make it this time easily, under Wellesley," said Holmes.

Vansittart's eyes narrowed. "Again, you are most observant. Despite his ill.u.s.trious lineage and the remark expressing my confidence, Wellesley is really not up to the usual standard, I'm afraid. He arrived here just a month ago, sent in disgrace from Burma, where he became enmeshed in a scandal in Mandalay involving the Governor's daughter. Unfortunately, women are only one of his bad habits. The foreign office sent him here to keep him out of sight, with a severe reprimand that this was to be his last post should he fail to measure up. The Pasha's escape would of course end his career. But so far, Wellesley's behaviour has been impeccable, though I must tell you that, as I leave, I have some other more worrisome concerns, and I do not think that Wellesley will be able to deal with them."

"What are they?" Holmes asked.

Vansittart leaned forwards to make sure that he was not overheard.

"Ceylon, my dear professor, as you must have seen even in the short time you have been here, has every appearance of an island paradise. I have come to love it and respect its people. But it would be the height of folly not to realise that our presence here is deeply resented. Having defeated the kings of Kandy over a half century ago, we have managed the island for our own purposes, for tea, rubber, pearls, of course, and for men and women to do our work. We delude ourselves about these dark-skinned natives. We love how they bow and sc.r.a.pe, with their heads bent low, their noses to the ground, call us master, and serve our every need. But given the chance, they will rise up and cut us to ribbons, as they once did in India. And there is now an evil presence on the island, one who moves about constantly and is so clever that it is difficult to apprehend him or to fathom his intentions. He is in touch with every unhappy element here: King Rama IV and his family, who form the sad remains of the Kandyan dynasty, and the leaders of the growing discontented cla.s.ses in Colombo and other cities, and the Pasha himself."

"Who is he?" asked Holmes.

"One of our countrymen, a gentleman by the name of Sebastian Moran, late of the Indian army. You may have heard of him. He is an old India hand and Shikari."

Holmes smiled inwardly. "Tell me more," said he.

"There is much still to learn, and precious little to tell, at least from my own experience. I met him soon after his arrival just a year ago. Before that, I gather he had been in the western Himalayas, his usual hunting grounds. But India became too hot for him. Wanted by the local police for attempted murder in Simla, he escaped and arrived here, where he has been protected by several friends in high places, who refuse to believe anything evil of him. Since he is faultless in manners and education, and his older brother is a loyal soldier who served heroically in Afghanistan, he is easily believed. He unfortunately has gained the full confidence of Sir Edward Gordon, the Governor. And Wellesley adores him. Moran was born here, in Colombo, the son of an early tea planter. He left after his father and mother were killed during the Kandyan rebellion. Following in his brother's footsteps, he joined the Indian army, where he became one of its great marksmen. Tall, powerfully built, and of great intelligence, it is only the cruel look in his steel grey eyes that gives any warning of his criminal disposition. Of considerable means, he returned here from London a year ago and purchased a large house in Colombo, which he furnished lavishly. He lived there alone except for a friend, a young Swiss by the name of Giacomo, who has since left on a tour of India. I met Moran at his house once. I was ushered into the library, where I waited for him. He entered accompanied by two large wolfhounds, both of which he kept on tight chains. Otherwise they would have devoured me, I think. Our conversation began pleasantly enough. He had just been on an inspection tour of his property, he said, for there had been a burglary during the night. Alerted by his hounds, he had caught the thief, a young boy of fifteen who had dared to scale the walls and enter the house. Moran caught him easily and brought him into the very room in which we were sitting. It was then that I noticed a frightening transformation in his face, for he proceeded to tell me in sickening detail how he had beaten the boy to a pulp before releasing him. It was the obvious and intense pleasure that he took in a near-murder that made me sense that something was deeply wrong with this man, and that he might become a danger to all of us. I took my leave as soon as I could, and I shall never forget the contrast between the civilised library and the cruelty of Moran's expression."

"No charges were pressed?" asked Holmes.

"A thief is a thief is the common att.i.tude here. The boy was found on the road outside Moran's house and was taken to the local hospital. But he said nothing after his recovery and has since disappeared altogether."

Vansittart spoke quickly in a low voice. Holmes did not reveal his own knowledge of Moran and his crimes, however, for fear that he should interrupt Vansittart's account. In his mind's eye, however, he returned instantly to the Reichenbach Falls in Switzerland, to the moment when Moran began throwing huge rocks down upon him.

"What else?" he continued. "He is an inveterate gambler, who plays constantly for high stakes. He rarely loses, but G.o.d help the winner, for Moran deals harshly with those who dare to best him. And he has a half sister, Franziska van Rhede, who aids and abets him in his crimes. Fortunately, she lives elsewhere, much of the time in Pondicherry, I believe, but visits him on occasion. I have never met her, but the natives are terrified of her, saying that she takes on the form of a gigantic bird of prey at will and goes soaring in the sky at sunset in search of victims."

"Where is Moran now?"

"It is difficult to say. He rarely goes to Colombo these days, but spends most of his time camped at a place called World's End. It is one of the most beautiful and dramatic places on the island. It is in the southern highlands, and is a kind of high plain, filled with the wild game that attracts him. At the end of the plain, however, is the most dramatic precipice in the world: a straight drop down of some five thousand feet. Moran hunts all day, feasts in the evening, and sleeps almost not at all. It is as if the inner cruelty dissipates somewhat in shikar. Otherwise, there would be more incidents like the one with the young burglar. Cruelty, gambling, shikar, high living. He needs constant replenishment of these nutrients, and he is not at all averse to criminal activity to meet his ends."

Wellesley returned to the table at that moment, and Vansittart immediately changed the subject. "Perhaps," he said, "the place for you to begin would be Pearl Town itself."

"The Pasha wishes to speak to this gentleman," said Wellesley.

"What about?" Holmes asked "'Archaeology. He seems to have noticed some similarities between the pyramids in Egypt and the ancient ruins of Ceylon.'"

"I shall be most happy to give him my views. By the way, Vansittart, please check the bottom of the Pasha's tea cup before the bearer removes it. There is a message attached to it, I believe."

Holmes left Vansittart with a surprised look on his face and went over to where the Pasha was sitting.

"Welcome to Ceylon, my dear professor," said the Pasha. "I hope your stay is fruitful . . . and not too long."

"I gather you would leave this paradise," said Holmes.

"Earthly paradises are difficult for a devout Moslem," he said with a smile, "and this one is more difficult than most. One of our great Arab travellers journeyed to India in the eleventh century. He begins his book by saying of the people in this part of the world that we have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with us. I am a man of the desert, who needs only enough water to keep alive and no more . . . but enough. Life has nothing for me now. My country is enslaved, and I, alas, shall never look upon the Nile again."

Holmes studied the man closely as he spoke. Though he lacked for nothing as a prisoner, it was the very servicing of his needs that was destroying him. The Pasha was very thin, almost emaciated, and was clearly not in good health. His eyes were dull, his skin an unhealthy sallow colour, and Holmes judged that he consumed large amounts of opium, cocaine, and alcohol. Scars on what he could see of his arms supported this. He was obviously a weak and sickened man.

"You are destroying yourself with opium," said Holmes.

The Pasha smiled. "You are right, but what of it? Before I came to Ceylon, I had never touched it, nor had I drunk a drop of liquor. Now, they are my constant companions, my only relief from the tedium and pain of exile. I cannot live without them. Yet, because of them I have terrible dreams. I flee from the wrath of Brahma through all the forests of Asia. Vishnu hates me, and Shiva lies in wait for me."

"You know your De Quincey quite well," said I.

The Pasha grinned. "At last a literate gentleman. Yes, I have much time to read, and De Quincey is a favourite." He paused for a moment, and then said, "A French philosopher, perhaps the great Descartes himself, has a.s.serted that one should travel in foreign lands but be mindful not to spend too much time away from one's homeland lest one find oneself a stranger upon one's return. It is now twelve years since I was separated from my people. My memory of them, of my own family, grows dimmer daily, and I am sure that few remember me. Surely by now I should be permitted to return."

Holmes listened to this still proud man with great sympathy and said, "I cannot help you. I can only tell you what you already know: that your freedom can only be granted by Government after appeal of your sentence."

The Pasha's expression became more intense. "All appeals have failed to go beyond the Governor," he said. "I cannot rely on the mercy of those who placed me here. But you, my dear sir, can help me. Or to speak more correctly, we can help each other."

He looked Holmes directly in the eyes and said simply, "I have the pearl."

Taken aback by his words, Holmes managed to conceal his surprise. The Pasha's look also told him that he knew of his mission and his true ident.i.ty. All of this had been told to him of course by Wellesley.

"I have been authorised to spend money for the pearl, not to bargain the release of a prisoner for it," said Holmes.

"I am aware of that. We too have our sources of knowledge, and ways, devious at times, of learning things. Let me say that the pearl is a thing of incomparable beauty, and that my agents are prepared to deliver it to you in return for my release and safe pa.s.sage to Egypt. If we cannot strike a bargain, we are prepared to deal with other governments with whom we are already in touch. My request is that you present my offer directly to those who have given you this mission and give me their reply. You are of course free to tell Vansittart or Governor Gordon the whole of our conversation."

Here he smiled and said, "This might lead to my confinement in prison somewhere . . . or to my execution. In either case, the pearl will be sold to the highest bidder and the funds used against you in Egypt."

Holmes returned to Vansittart and reported his conversation. Vansittart visibly paled at the suggestion that the Pasha be released in return for the pearl, but he agreed that the offer must be communicated to London.

"That is when I received your message," interrupted Mycroft, who, during Holmes's long account, had listened with great interest.

"Indeed, my dear Mycroft, it was precisely at this perplexing moment that I asked you to notify the colonial secretary. My message was brief: object of search located pending final confirmation, in the hands of agents of Arabi Pasha, who as owner demands his release in exchange. Ask authority to negotiate with Pasha, including granting his release, if necessary."

"An urgent cabinet meeting was called," continued Mycroft, "which, I am told, lasted well into the night. All the arguments for and against releasing the Pasha were enunciated, including the possible outcry in Parliament should the real reasons for his release be uncovered. Mr. Gladstone listened to all arguments and then stated his views. In antic.i.p.ation of the success of the Holmes's mission, he said, the plans for a new crown and t.i.tle for the Queen had been initiated, and it would be most unfortunate if the pearl were not secured at this juncture. The Pasha was now in possession of the pearl, and of that there appeared to be little doubt. If the price was the Pasha's liberty, then so be it. He had been exiled for over twelve years and his return to Egypt after so long a time posed no serious threat to British rule in Egypt. An act of clemency by the Prime Minister, on grounds of age and declining health, quietly reported in the papers would be enough to explain his release. When all was said and done, the Pasha might be more of a nuisance in exile in Ceylon than free in Egypt. There was no end to inimical parties, certain foreign powers that need not be mentioned, ready to strike a bargain with the Pasha and attempt to free him. Better free him than have him escape. Mr. Gladstone then added, to a resounding 'Hear! Hear' from the Cabinet, that 'the saving of the one hundred thousand pounds that might have been expended for the pearl would have the firm support of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.'

"And so," continued Mycroft, "the Colonial Secretary came to me at once, with the message that Sherlock be notified that he had the necessary authority to free the Pasha if he indeed thought that the best resolution of the matter."

Holmes had returned to his Chetty Street hotel, where he awaited Gorashar's return and the response from Mycroft. The latter was first to arrive. One of Vansittart's orderlies brought the response from London. The Cabinet had agreed to the Pasha's release but with conditions: once returned to Egypt, the Pasha would be under solemn oath not to engage in any public activity whatsoever. He was to remain a private citizen and to hold no public office. He would be allowed to leave Ceylon as soon as possible in the company of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and an adequate military guard. So that there would be no delay, arrangements had been made with the captain of the ship, the Susannah II, now at anchor in Trincomalee harbour, to wait for the arrival of special guests of Government. Mr. Holmes was authorised to carry the pearl with him. In Alexandria, he was to deliver it to General Gordon, who would see to its safe transfer to London. Mr. Holmes was also to be afforded every facility for his trip to England should he desire to return directly from Egypt. In a separate note, Vansittart said that the Pasha had agreed to all conditions and was already preparing his departure. Holmes wrote out a short note in reply, asking Vansittart to arrange their travel to Trincomalee.

"It was just after I read the message, Watson, that I became aware of a great commotion in the street below. A large crowd had a.s.sembled, mostly Tamilians, and stood in almost total silence. After a few moments a small group of them moved from the back of the crowd to the front. They were carrying two corpses lying on bamboo stretchers. Once they reached the front of the crowd, the procession moved rapidly down the street and out of sight, leaving the street almost deserted. At that moment, Gorashar appeared to inform me that the dead were Thyagamma and Nelusko, the finders of the pearl. They had been found brutally murdered in their rooms, and the sombre crowd was taking them to the sh.o.r.e for cremation."

"No one seems to know when the murders occurred," Vansittart said. "The bodies were found only a few hours ago. They had been stabbed and their faces horribly mutilated, as if the killer had been angered by something, perhaps by his inability to find the pearl. If the pearl was the motive, the two had been murdered needlessly, since they had already sold it to the Atkinson Brothers firm and no longer had it in their possession. There are no suspects."

"Let us examine their rooms while the crowd is gone," said Holmes. "Perhaps we may learn something."

Gorashar took Holmes directly to the victims' hotel, one far more run-down than his own. The lobby was dark, and empty except for a sweeper working in one corner. Holmes placed a fistful of rupees in the sweeper's hand, and he took them directly to the rooms, no more than two small windowless cells on the second floor. There were beds but nothing else. Bloodstains were everywhere, but there was little sign of a struggle. Whatever little had belonged to the victims had been taken. The prints of bare feet were everywhere, and whatever clues might have been were destroyed by the many who entered after the bodies were discovered.

"We are too late. There is nothing to be learned here beyond the obvious," said Holmes. He turned towards the sweeper. Putting a few more rupees into his hand, he asked him what he had seen. The sweeper said that in the dark of the previous morning, at about four a.m., two people entered the hotel dressed in Arab costume. The sweeper saw their faces: they were European, a man and a woman. They went directly up the stairs to the second floor, remained there for a few minutes, then came down and left in a run. He thought nothing of their coming and going since nocturnal traffic in the hotel is common enough during the pearl season. It was only after the bodies were found that he a.s.sociated the two with the murder. When pressed, the sweeper could say little more than that one of those who entered was very tall. He added in a voice filled with fear that the face of the dead pearl fisher Nelusko had been covered with what looked like claw marks.

"Obviously, Watson, the bloodletting which I so feared but knew would a.s.sociate itself with the Moonstar of Mannar had begun. Gorashar and I returned to my quarters. He repeated his judgement that the pearl had been sold before they were murdered and that it was now in Trincomalee. I told him of the Pasha's claim."

"The Pasha is telling the truth," he said, "for the present owner of Atkinson Brothers is his agent and was here for two days bargaining for the pearl. He left with it while Thyagamma and Nelusko were very much alive. But who would have killed the two pearl fishers after the pearl was sold? Do you think the two seen by the sweeper are the murderers?"

"'We do not know for sure," said Holmes. "Learn what you can in the bazaar. Then follow me to Trincomalee."

Gorashar left, and Holmes went directly to the circuit house. He spoke with the Pasha, who was ready to depart, and told him that they would leave as soon as Vansittart had finished arrangements.

There was no rail to Trincomalee from Pearl Town, so Vanmsittart arranged for horses and a small armed escort. For a part of the journey they also travelled by elephant. The trip took two days and was an unexpectedly grueling one. Several times they were forced to take long detours so as to avoid the rebels under Rama IV, the rebellious king who lived in the jungles north of Kandy, and in whose hands no Englishman was safe. A few times they caught sight of these rebels, dressed in dark green, armed with rifles and daggers. Despite the dangers, however, they arrived at their destination. Holmes and the Pasha went directly to the shop of the Atkinson brothers, called Les Portes d'Argent, or The Silver Doors. They were led into a large room where they waited for Abdul Latif, the Pasha's agent.

"Notice the doors," said the Pasha. "Jewellers must always have many ways of egress." There were six silver doors in the room. The one directly in front of us opened and Abdul Latif, a tall thin man not unlike the Pasha in appearance, entered. Latif bowed to the Pasha and placed a small box in his hand. The Pasha opened it and handed it to Holmes.

"Here is the Moonstar of Mannar," he said. "It is truly fit for a queen. You may test it in any way you like. Five hundred seventeen grains, a perfect sphere."

It was indeed a beautiful thing, thought Holmes, one of the most exqusite examples of devil's bait he had yet encountered. He studied it for several moments, then returned it to its box.

"It is indeed what it has been claimed to be," he said.

"You may take it now," said the Pasha.

Holmes took the box and put it in his small bag. "The first part of the work was now finished. If all went according to plan, the Pasha and I would board the Susannah II in a few hours and we would be on our way to Egypt, the Pasha with his freedom, and I with the pearl for Her Majesty,"

Holmes stopped here for a moment, as if deep in thought. "And here, Watson, I made a fateful decision. I chose not to rest with this simple solution. Rather than accompany the Pasha, I decided to send him on ahead with the armed escort to the Susannah II. I told him that I wished to attend to some unfinished business and would follow shortly."

They parted just outside the shop. Holmes turned and entered the winding lanes of the Trincomalee bazaar. He had not gone far when he sensed that he was being followed. He ducked into a small shop for a moment, asking the proprietor if he could leave by the back entrance. Puzzled, the shopkeeper nevertheless led him to the back. As he went through the door, he saw Moran standing there, barring his way. He held a pistol, barely concealed by his vest, pointed directly at Holmes's middle.

"Which way, Moran?" he said with some impudence.

"To the left," answered Moran.

Moran's sister soon joined them. They returned to the Portes d'Argent. Latif lay dead on the floor, his throat slit.

"Let us have the pearl," said Franziska.

"With great pleasure, Madam," said Holmes.

He handed the box to Moran, who opened it and gave it to his sister.

"For you, for now," he said.

Franziska appeared mesmerised by the pearl, and she took no notice of anything about her.

"I have waited for this moment as if for an eternity," said Moran. "When Moriarty went over the Reichenbach Falls, time stopped for me. All that I am-and ever will be I owe to that great soul, Moriarty. I learned everything from him. His mind was the sharpest that ever thought on English soil. His heart the strongest and the cruellest. And you, you fiend, you destroyed that great genius.

"My sincere condolences, old fellow," said Holmes, "but you must understand that I am of course of a very different view. Do not forget that Moriarty came after me at the falls. Had he pursued a more intelligent path, he would be alive today, albeit sitting in a London jail. But to bring our attention back to present matters, I do hope that you are aware, dear Colonel, that in taking the pearl you are stealing from an agent of the British Government. Rather foolhardy, I would say."

"The pearl is now ours," said Franziska, returning from her delirium. "Let us kill him here. Let us not miss this chance."

At this moment Holmes was defenceless. Both Moran and his sister had guns trained on him, and he was foolishly unarmed. But again the unexpected happened. Suddenly all of the silver doors opened, and filing in one after another in total silence were the rebel soldiers of Rama IV, all armed with rifles. Neither Moran nor his sister moved.

"So, Moran," said one of the men, "another trick."