Edgar Allan Poe and the Jewel of Peru

by Karen Lee Street

  “I mentioned that the idols of the Cloud Warriors were built upon an almost inaccessible cliff—almost inaccessible. We managed to scale that cliff and behind the idols there was a cave with strange primitive paintings upon the wall, the same cave in which the Spaniards found silver, gold and emeralds a few hundred years ago. I hoped that we might find the king’s tomb there, but instead we discovered mummified Cloud Warriors. This particular warrior,” he said, indicating the screaming skull, “had numerous objects around him in his burial alcove.” He signaled and the chandelier glowed again, bathing the room in light while the professor extinguished the magic lantern, sending the ghastly, glowing skull back to the netherworld. Professor Renelle then indicated the objects on the table. “This is but a small selection of the goods we found with him—everyday objects intended for his use in the afterlife, gold and silver ornaments, feathered necklaces and armbands, and this.” Renelle held up the strange woven object Sissy and I had discussed. “Native Peruvians call it a ‘quipu’. It is constructed from fibers made from alpaca or llama hair and often dyed like this.” He indicated the red coloring and how some of the strings were knotted. “Such objects are quite rare and burial with a quipu suggests that the mummy was a person of considerable standing, perhaps royalty.” Professor Renelle returned the quipu to the table.

  “And so, ladies and gentlemen, I trust you understand why it is of great scientific interest for me to return to the Chachapoyas in Peru, not only to gather further specimens of creatures not found in these climes, but also in hopes of locating this great hoard of antiquities and the remains of the king of the Cloud Warriors. If you have enjoyed this presentation and support the quest for new knowledge, please take the opportunity to make a contribution to our next great expedition. Any amount will bring us nearer to our goal, but those who contribute twenty-five dollars or more will receive a set of ten magic lantern copperplate slides such as those you saw tonight, either a selection of ten birds or ten exotic Peruvian flowers, or five of each. Please see Mr. Blackwell at the table in the hallway should you wish to make a contribution. Many thanks for your kind attention.” Professor Renelle bowed and the audience applauded loudly.

  My wife leaned toward me and whispered, “I’m going to say hello to Mrs. Reynolds before she is surrounded by admirers.”

  I had no desire to talk to the lady and even less interest in exchanging mock pleasantries with her husband, or, worse still, introducing him to Sissy.

  “Truly we need to speak with Professor Renelle and try to secure an invitation to his home.” As I glanced at the professor, I saw that he was staring at someone at the back of the room and I followed his gaze. I was startled to catch sight of Jeremiah Mathews—or a man who looked so similar as to be his doppelgänger. The man seemed to notice Renelle’s gaze upon him and quickly exited the room. At first I thought the professor would follow, but an audience member intercepted him at the very moment I was cornered by my nemesis.

  “Mr. Poe, Rowena said that we might meet again and, as usual, she was correct.” George Reynolds stood in front of me, his arm linked through his wife’s. She smiled at Sissy with what appeared to be genuine pleasure.

  “Mrs. Poe, how delightful to see you again,” the actress said. “And you, Mr. Poe,” she added, acknowledging me as royalty might a commoner.

  “It is fully my pleasure to see you,” Sissy replied. “Did you enjoy the magic lantern show? I thought it marvelous.”

  “I did,” Mrs. Reynolds said with apparent surprise. “Professor Renelle pestered me to attend and truly I had no desire to waste a free evening sitting through a dull lecture.”

  “Rowena had her fill of interminable literary recitations in London,” George Reynolds smirked.

  “Oh, hush, George,” the lady murmured, giving him a fierce glare before turning back to Sissy. “We are often invited to tedious events by those who hope to use our attendance to pull in a crowd, and that was indeed the professor’s game.” She glanced toward Renelle then blinked her eyes in theatrical exasperation. “The man is such a bore. He is surrounded by people who might very well invest in his next foolhardy adventure, but he watches us and waits to pounce like a jaguar from a Peruvian jungle.” She laughed then added, “But his performance did surprise me. He has picked up some skills from his years of being a patron to the theater. And the images were divine. I was transported to the mountains of Peru.”

  “Yes,” Sissy agreed. “It was magical. I am so glad we came.” Her warm smile at Mrs. Reynolds faltered when Reynolds pressed closer to his wife, directing his wolfish gaze at Sissy in such a way that it was impossible for her to escape it.

  “I don’t know why, Poe, but I have the sense that you do not wish to introduce me to your wife. Rowena has had the pleasure and was enchanted. You and I must surely agree—you do not deserve her.”

  “George, please,” his wife said, her impatience clear.

  “Indeed, you are correct,” I said. “Such are the trials of men like us who marry women that exceed them in every way. We must agree on that too, Mr. Reynolds.” I could not help but raise my brows as I said his name and he glared at my impertinence.

  “And who could ever come close to Mrs. Reynolds in talent or beauty?” Professor Renelle pushed his way into our circle and glanced from Reynolds to me. His expression made it clear that he had witnessed our sparring match.

  “Well done, Professor Renelle. It was quite the show. I will strongly encourage my friends to attend your next presentation,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

  “Please do. Let me take you to the magic lantern slides. Should you care to lend your support to our next expedition, I would be happy to present you with a full set of slides.”

  “Darling, we must hurry,” Reynolds said to his wife. “We are late already.”

  “I am sorry to disappoint, Professor Reynolds. Farewell, Mr. and Mrs. Poe. Always a delight.” She nodded at us and made her way to the door with surprising speed.

  “A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mrs. Poe,” Reynolds said to Sissy with a malevolent expression he did not bother to hide. “Goodbye, Poe. You are a lucky man.” His tone left little doubt that he was referring to his reluctant pledge to forget the history between our families. Reynolds strode after his wife, leaving us with a disgruntled Professor Renelle, whose eyes followed the Reynolds as they tried to exit the room, waylaid at each step by well-wishers.

  “Sir, let me extend our congratulations. We were mightily impressed with your fascinating presentation. I am Edgar Poe and this is my wife.”

  Renelle’s attention returned to us. “Mr. Poe the writer? I have read your stories, of course. How wonderful to meet you in the flesh,” the professor said in a way that unsettled me. Was it mere flattery in hopes of a contribution to his next expedition or was he suspicious of our attendance? I hoped the man’s excessive self-belief would make him presume that any person with an interest in the arts and sciences would wish to attend his lectures.

  “I was amazed by the magic lantern show,” Sissy added. “It takes enormous skill to make your audience feel as if they were on the expedition with you.”

  Sissy’s flattering words captured the professor’s attention. “I am glad you perceived the skill required. Not many do,” he said, smiling like a fox. I understood why Dupin had suggested that Sissy attend the lecture—he had accurately assessed Renelle as a rake.

  “The skeleton was more than gruesome,” she shuddered, “but the tale of the king’s tomb and the derrotero was fascinating.”

  “I had a thought regarding that,” I said quickly. “I have a great passion for ciphers, conundrums and the like, and have something of a reputation for unraveling such puzzles. The quipu and its construction is most intriguing. Have you considered that it may be more than a mere ornament?”

  “How so?” Professor Renelle frowned.

  “The way it is dyed and the pattern of the knots may be more than decorative. Might the quipu harbor some hidden message? You said tha
t it was buried with a person of high rank in the Cloud Warrior community. If that person were of royal blood, might the quipu actually be the missing derrotero?”

  A glint came into Professor Renelle’s eyes at my suggestion. “An intriguing notion. There are old tales that quipu were used by the Indians to relay messages.”

  “Well, there we have it. Perhaps the quipu conceals valuable information regarding the location of the king’s tomb. I would be honored to examine it for you to see if I might unravel some meaning within it.”

  “It might be helpful if you studied the quipu in conjunction with the other objects Professor Renelle gathered at the site,” my wife said. “It might spark an idea. And I would very much like to see more of your collection, professor. Your lecture tonight ignited a great curiosity within me. I do hope I can persuade you.”

  Renelle puffed up like a rooster—it seemed that my wife’s flattery was successful. The professor was a man who thrived on an audience and adulation.

  “Madam, I would be delighted to show you the collection. When would you like to visit?”

  “Tomorrow would be perfect if that is at all possible. I have engagements all next week,” she added.

  The professor reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a silver case from which he took a printed calling card. “My address is here. Shall we say noon?”

  Sissy took the card and bestowed a radiant smile upon him. “Noon is perfect, Professor Renelle. And rest assured, if anyone can decipher the quipu, it is my husband. You may soon know the location of the king’s tomb and his treasure.”

  “That would be wonderful indeed,” Professor Renelle said.

  “I will do my best,” I said. “Goodnight, sir, and thank you for a most informative evening.”

  “My pleasure,” Renelle said with a smile fattened by greed.

  36

  When we returned home, the parlor fire was burning merrily and my mother-in-law was in her chair, knitting. Catterina was perched next to her, mesmerized by the tips of the knitting needles darting in and out of the wool. Once we were settled, Muddy made us cups of hot chocolate, then excused herself and retreated to bed. Catterina eyed Dupin’s lap, but he quickly contorted himself in such a way that she reluctantly chose to curl up on me instead. When we began to discuss all that had occurred at the Philosophical Hall, it was clear that our appreciation of Professor Renelle’s lecture was not shared by Dupin.

  “His strategy of inviting the actress and her husband was a vulgar trick,” he complained. “One that confirms to me that he is merely a treasure seeker with little true interest in the history or culture of the Cloud People.”

  “The trick did result in a full house. I have been to other talks at the Philosophical Hall that had half as many in the audience.”

  “And his magic lantern show genuinely pleased the crowd,” Sissy added. “Mrs. Reynolds herself was grudgingly impressed.”

  “I wonder how she is acquainted with Renelle,” Dupin murmured, his gaze directed at me.

  “He seems to be associated with Philadelphia’s theaters. We saw him try to ingratiate himself with the lady back in January at the Walnut Street Theater, but she ignored him. I do not believe they are friends.”

  “Certainly not. She was barely civil to Professor Renelle, just as her husband was only superficially polite to you,” Sissy observed. She looked from Dupin to me and back to Dupin. “Were you aware of the enmity between Mr. Reynolds’s family and my husband’s?”

  Dupin paused for a moment, then said carefully, “Mr. Williams, as he was known in London, did seem to hold unwarranted animosity toward your husband. There was little rhyme or reason to it that I could fathom, as your husband had done nothing to earn such ill will. But it seems that Mrs. Fontaine—or Mrs. Reynolds as she now calls herself—has extended an olive branch?”

  “Correct, Dupin. I can only hope the lady has persuaded her husband of his folly, as she promised.”

  Dupin’s expression indicated his doubts regarding this, but he kept his opinion to himself and said dryly, “Mrs. Reynolds is quite the toast of Philadelphia. Her extraordinary performances in London were the perfect training for her profession.”

  A thought then occurred to me that I hoped would divert the discussion from those unpleasant memories. “Did you notice a dark-haired man, small of stature, dressed in a black suit, who was seated in the back row and left immediately after the presentation? He wore a peculiar hat, wide of brim and with a tall, rounded crown.” When Dupin frowned at my description, I added, “He had more than a passing resemblance to Jeremiah Mathews, and when Professor Renelle noticed him, the man hurried from the room.”

  “You think he might be a Peruvian?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Unfortunately I was too focused on Renelle and the potential drama between you and the Reynolds to notice him.” Dupin appeared to ponder what I had just revealed, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead he asked: “And so you succeeded in securing an invitation to Professor Renelle’s home. When are you expected?”

  “Tomorrow at noon,” my wife said with much satisfaction.

  “That gives us little time to formulate a plan,” he frowned.

  “As you said previously, the longer Helena is with her captor, the more rapidly our chance to rescue her diminishes,” Sissy countered. “We must discover as soon as we can if she is held at Professor Renelle’s house, and if she is not . . .” Her words trailed away at the dark possibility of that scenario.

  “I feel certain that Miss Loddiges is there,” I said quickly to reassure her. “Professor Renelle abducted her in hopes of securing Jeremiah Mathews’s journal, as he believes it has a map that will lead him to the treasure of the Cloud People. We have witnessed how single-minded he is in pursuit of the treasure.”

  “I agree,” Dupin said. “And Miss Loddiges’s disappearance seems less mysterious now that we are aware of Father Nolan’s alliance with Professor Renelle. If Father Keane mentioned the excursion to see the passenger pigeons, which is very likely as he borrowed the church wagon to travel there, Father Nolan would have told the professor where they would be—the perfect spot to abduct a lady.”

  “But if Helena no longer has the journal, why would Renelle continue to hold her hostage?” Sissy asked.

  “We must put our worries aside and make our plan,” Dupin said firmly. “And we must play our roles with confidence tomorrow. I believe that if I can find a way to surreptitiously examine the house and make note of its inhabitants while you have Professor Renelle engaged, we will be able to unearth enough to decide the best way to rescue your friend. What was your pretext to secure an invitation, Poe?”

  “I suggested to Professor Renelle that the quipu might contain a concealed message, that it might actually be the derrotero he seeks.”

  As Dupin considered this notion, a light came into his eye. “Interesting idea. There may be something in it. Your discussion should certainly keep the professor occupied for a good amount of time. And if Renelle is in any way suspicious about your motives for wishing to come to his home, the very real possibility that you might work out the location of the treasure by deciphering the quipu should be enough to guarantee your safety.”

  “And what of you, Dupin?” I asked. “How shall we secure you access to Renelle’s home?”

  “I have been thinking about your role, Monsieur Dupin,” Sissy ventured. “If you were to play our horse groom and coachman, we would of course need to have you with us at Renelle Mansion. In this weather, we could politely insist that you were permitted to wait for us in the warmth of the kitchen.”

  I had pretended to be Dupin’s brother when in London, but the thought of him playing our servant amused me much more.

  “I think Dupin will make a thoroughly convincing groom—he has quite a way with animals, doesn’t he, Catterina?” I rubbed her head and she opened one eye to glance at me, then retreated back to sleep.

  “I know enough about horses to play the rol
e,” Dupin said evenly.

  “We will have to borrow or rent a carriage, but Professor Renelle won’t know that,” I added. “And if you pretend to understand very little English, Renelle’s servants might speak more freely around you.”

  Dupin nodded, but Sissy quickly saw that his dignity was injured by my little jest.

  “Of course that is just a suggestion. If anyone has a better plan?” She waited patiently for Dupin to suggest an alternative course of action, but he just shook his head. “We will have to assemble a convincing costume for you—some of Eddy’s walking clothes will do, I think. From what we know of Professor Renelle, I feel he will not pay much attention to someone he believes is a servant.”

  This thought seemed to inspire Dupin. “What you say is very true. I may be able to exploit the disguise to good advantage so long as his servants don’t see through my pretense.”

  Before I could make another jibe, my wife asked, “And do you have any advice for me, Monsieur Dupin? I am rather nervous about my role in this masquerade.”

  He considered her question for a moment, then said, “Renelle’s braggadocio will give us some advantage. Ask questions and use flattery. He will happily dwell on himself rather than interrogate you.”

  I did not much like the idea of using my wife as a distraction, but she was sanguine about the tactic.

  “While I find the man repellent, I will flatter him ruthlessly if doing so will help us to rescue dear Helena.”