The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes

by Paul D. Gilbert

I was glad of the break in our travels, for my head was spinning with the speed of our progress and the length and drama of Holmes’s narrative. As I was to discover, on our return journey, we had passed through hundreds of miles of the most breathtaking and scenic landscapes that Europe has to offer. Yet I had been so spellbound at each of Holmes’s words that I had missed it all. Though generally speaking more appreciative of my natural surroundings than Holmes ever was, I was not a bit surprised that I had been oblivious to them on this occasion, nor was I resentful at having been so.

  Thankfully we were both able to sleep during our journey’s final leg, and we arrived at the terminus in Rome in time for an early breakfast, barely twenty four hours after we had deserted our rooms in Baker Street.

  We were met on the platform by two very smart uniformed officers who, after collecting our luggage from the luggage-van, led us to a gracious Landau that awaited us outside. Here we were greeted by our host and colleague, Inspector Gialli.

  Clearly the officers spoke not a word of English, but Inspector Gialli, to our pleasant surprise, had a reasonable command of our language and offered to act as both our interpreter and collaborator throughout the duration of our stay. For ease of narrative, I shall eliminate his many errors in interpretation and pronunciation.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ He smiled, as he stepped down lightly from the carriage. ‘I trust your journey was pleasant?’

  ‘Indeed it was, Inspector. It was good of you to meet us at such an hour.’ I replied, bowing politely. Holmes seemed to be amused by the appearance of our host and barely suppressed a smile as he bowed in turn.

  Gialli was quite short for a policeman, standing at little more than five feet six inches. His build and posture can best be described as neat and dapper; from his light grey bowler down to his gaiters he exuded a certain elegance. His facial expressions were charming. He sported a tiny though well waxed moustache. Yet the items that distinguished him the most from his London counterparts, were his exuberantly patterned tie and a pale grey top-coat that he wore unbuttoned.

  His light-hearted manner certainly belied his profession, and his attitude and conversation, the awesome task before us. He chatted incessantly about his desire to visit London and then, apologetically, about the unseasonably cold weather, that Rome was experiencing at that time. For myself, having so recently left the chill of London, I found it uncomfortably warm in my heavy coat.

  Holmes held a stony silence throughout our journey to the hotel which the Roman authorities had provided for us. I, on the other hand, found my attention being constantly diverted, from our host’s conversation, by the wondrous edifices, both ancient and renaissance, that consistently lined our route.

  Gialli noted my fascination with these surroundings and proceeded to identify many of the places of interest which we passed, with an understandable pride. I soon lost track of the numerous churches, forums, temples and piazzas that Gialli was describing. Indeed I was looking forward to a few hours rest at our hotel, when we pulled up outside another magnificent building, on the Via Nationale, which, in any other city in the world, would surely have been described as a palace. I was astounded to learn that this imposing monument was to serve as our accommodation for the next few days! Holmes, however, with his usual cold, diffident air might have just pulled up outside 221b Baker Street, for all the effect his surroundings had on him.

  ‘I should like to visit the museum at ten o’clock.’ He informed Gialli, to my great horror, for this rendezvous would only afford us two hours’ rest.

  ‘Surely a visit in the early afternoon would suit just as well? I am completely spent!’ I protested.

  Holmes turned on me with a glare. ‘Watson! The scent is cold enough as it is and Moriarty is not one to delay in obscuring his tracks.’ With that he bounded up the hotel stairs and left me exhausted at the bottom.

  To Holmes’s intense annoyance, it was not until a quarter past the agreed hour that we received the message that Inspector Gialli awaited our pleasure in the lobby below.

  A short journey in the landau took us past the ancient market and forum of the Emperor Trajan and around the base of the half completed monument to King Victor Emmanuel, before delivering us to the foot of the magnificent staircase that stretches up to the Capitol. It was only upon discovering that the building at the top of the steps was, indeed, the Capitoline museum, that Holmes finally became attentive to his surroundings.

  Almost at once his features took on an entirely different aspect. His eyes seemed to spring to life, darting from side to side, alert to any potential clue. While his face became taut and hungry. Ignoring the unique equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, that stood guard before the museum. Holmes made for the entrance with a decided spring in his step.

  At once, he began making enquiries as to the security arrangements on the day of the theft. Holmes asked me to make appropriate notes, as a plethora of information began cascading upon us from Gialli, his subordinates, and the head of the museum’s security guards. However, Holmes soon realized that the only fact, worthy of attention, was that two of the guards, on duty that day, were only engaged some three weeks prior to the theft.

  ‘You can see here, Watson, how vital is my ability to sift the relevant information from the superfluous. The task of examining every detail and gorging oneself on a stew of useless information is both time consuming and dulling to the senses. However, even at this stage of our investigation, I can perceive the direction our inquiries must immediately take.’

  To emphasise his point, Holmes at once requested that Gialli despatch two of his officers to locate the source of employment of the two guards in question. We were denied the opportunity of interviewing these two, by reason of their unexplained absence from work for the past two days, though, in truth, Holmes seemed hardly surprised to learn of this.

  With Gialli and myself in his wake, Holmes strode purposefully through the front hall, oblivious to the miraculous examples of ancient sculpture, by which he was surrounded, and called back to request directions to the famous First Room, from where ‘The Dying Gaul’ had been removed. Upon being informed that it was located on the upper floor, Holmes bounded up the stairs ahead of us, and was already examining a large empty plinth, in the centre of the room, with his glass, by the time Gialli and I joined him. I motioned to Gialli to remain silent and still whilst Holmes continued his work. A moment later Holmes straightened himself and, with an impatient grunt, snapped his glass away. He glared accusingly at Inspector Gialli.

  ‘Inspector,’ Holmes began, with some annoyance. ‘Someone has very carefully removed all of the traces that might have proved useful to me!’

  ‘Signor Holmes, I can assure you that none of the officers under my control, would have been so stupid as to remove anything at all from the scene of a crime!’ Gialli replied, his round face alight with indignation. ‘However, I understand from yourself that the man you suspect of being the master-mind behind the theft, is of above average intellect. Therein, I suspect, lies your explanation.’

  ‘I can assure you that I meant no disrespect.’ Holmes mumbled apologetically. ‘Perhaps my experience of the London police force has made me, somewhat cynical. Now, you must describe to me, in exact and concise terms, the full circumstances of the theft of “The Dying Gaul”. As he spoke, Holmes seated himself on the empty plinth, in readiness.

  Aghast at Holmes’s apparent irreverence, Gialli eyed him quizzically, for a moment, before proceeding.

  ‘The alarm was first raised by the very two guards who have, subsequently, gone missing. They were on duty that morning in the Fifth Room, otherwise known as the Bust Room. This room contains an unequalled collection of Imperial portraits, that are both entirely authentic and, of course, irreplaceable.

  ‘It seems that a member of the viewing public was suddenly taken by a violent attack of brain fever and was endeavouring to vandalise the magnificent head of Caracalla with a pocket knife. No doubt due to their relative lack of ex
perience, in such a situation, our guards called for immediate assistance, whereupon the manager and several other guards raced to their aid.

  ‘By the time this entourage had entered the Bust Room, they discovered that the malefactor had disappeared, but that only slight damage had been inflicted on the bust. A thorough search was conducted of all the adjacent galleries, but to no avail. After being questioned by the police, the guards, who had raised the alarm, were allowed to leave and have not been seen since.’

  Gialli paused for a moment and stared, intently, into the eyes of Sherlock Holmes, before continuing.

  ‘Ah, but now to the most perplexing aspect of our little mystery.’ Gialli smiled mischievously, obviously fully aware of my friend’s penchant for the more unusual aspects of crime.

  Holmes’s head jerked up, suddenly, with a look of hungry anticipation upon his face, very like an epicure waiting to be served with a gourmet meal.

  With increased excitement, Gialli continued:

  ‘Despite the furore created by the incident in the Bust Room, and despite the easy access and wide berth afforded by the main entrance, no attempt was made at removing “The Dying Gaul” through that route!’

  ‘You are sure of this?’ Holmes asked, up on his feet once more, while trying to gauge the distance between the vacant plinth and the front entrance.

  ‘There is no doubt of it, Signor. Two guards at the entrance were put on their vigil at the first sign of trouble and secured the main entrance until my men arrived shortly afterwards. They have both affirmed that no attempt was made to pass them by persons either with, or without, the missing statue.’ Gialli earnestly replied.

  ‘Yet I am sure, a building such as this, has more than one exit, does it not?’ Holmes asked confidently. By now he had ceased his pacing. He placed his foot upon the plinth and rested his left elbow upon his knee, while he tried to visualise the chain of events that Gialli had just outlined.

  ‘Assuredly.’ Gialli replies. ‘Yet it is located at the far side of the building, and can only be reached by passing through a number of the other galleries. However that was, without doubt, the route taken by the thieves. The solid oak door was broken down and used as a means to traverse a stretch of mud that part of the original path has degenerated into. I do not understand it, Signor Holmes. For two determined men the front exit would be a far easier option, as I will now demonstrate.’

  Gialli then proceeded to lead us on a trek through a veritable labyrinth of rooms and galleries, each containing striking images of the ancient past. With each room that we passed through on our ten minute journey, I became increasingly convinced that the thieves had undertaken a most foolhardy and perilous task. The more so when I considered the heavy weight of the object that they were attempting to procure. Holmes seemed similarly perplexed, no doubt wondering at the fact that the mind of Professor Moriarty was, supposedly, behind the planning of this scheme.

  Upon reaching the far-flung escape route, we found that things were exactly as they had been described to us by our Roman colleague. We could see that the large wooden door had been used as a flat bridge to ease the transport of so cumbersome an object, from the doorway to the dry path beyond.

  Holmes immediately withdrew his glass and used it to scour the door and the gravel path for footprints and clues. He raised himself from the ground a few moments later and I was disappointed to note that there was not even a hint of success on his face. Gialli, evidently shared my disappointment, for he began tutting to himself and bemoaned the fate of the statue under his breath.

  Then, as Holmes began re-crossing the ‘bridge’ he suddenly stopped in his tracks. ‘What is this!?’ He cried, while dropping to the ground once more. ‘Ha!’ was followed by ‘Excellent!’ and then, while still holding his glass, he summoned us both to join him. Offering his glass to each of us in turn, he indicated a small, almost invisible, scratch etched into the outer rim of the door.

  Much to Holmes’s obvious impatience, Gialli and I exchanged glances that indicated our mutual confusion.

  ‘Do you not see?!’ Holmes exclaimed. He then continued in the most urgent manner. ‘It is small certainly, indeed I almost passed over it myself, and, initially appears to be most insignificant. Yet it is most certainly an indication that the foot of one of our intruders, missed its mark and slipped from the edge of the door. Upon realizing this, I merely cast my gaze two inches to the left and discovered this.…’ He diverted our attention towards a lightly indented, yet clearly defined boot mark in the surrounding mud.

  Holmes jumped up immediately and ushered us back into the building. ‘Now, Inspector, there is a certain theory that I wish to put to the test. To do so I shall require the co-operation of you and two of your most stalwart officers. I should be pleased if they could meet me at this door, conveying a statue of similar size and weight to “The Dying Gaul” in as short a time as possible.’ With that Holmes turned away to re-examine the path.

  ‘What theory can he possibly mean?!’ Gialli asked of me in exasperation.

  ‘I cannot even speculate myself,’ I replied. ‘Yet he certainly has one, so my advice to you would be to set his arrangements in motion with all speed. You will find that it is in your best interests to do so.’

  Gialli threw his arms up in the air and violently shook his head in a true Latin pique, before departing on his errand. Upon his return Gialli was accompanied by two enormous policemen who, at well over six feet in height, were both tall and broad. ‘I think that they enjoy the pasta a little too much!’ Was Gialli’s attempt at a mood lightening jest. This was shared and enjoyed, after translation, by his colleagues, but not by Holmes who was solemnly shaking his head upon his return from his search of the path.

  ‘The large gravel content of the path renders the task of assimilating clues an impossible one. Ah, but Inspector you have done exceedingly well!’ Holmes exclaimed, upon noticing a large statue of Perseus resting on the floor behind the hefty policemen.

  ‘Now, gentlemen, if one of you would be so kind as to stand over here in the mud, remaining there, quite still for a moment or two.’ Holmes requested, by way of a translation from Gialli. Once Holmes’s request was made known to them, the two officers could barely suppress their amusement at the strange ways of the English detective. This display of mirth, I was pleased to note, was immediately reprimanded with an icy stare from their superior.

  The policemen immediately carried out Holmes’s bidding and then stood back whilst Holmes threw himself down to the ground once more to examine the newly created boot prints. Apparently satisfied with his discovery, Holmes then asked both officers to lift up the statue and carry it to a patch of flat, even mud close by the newly made prints. They wielded this edifice with surprising and casual ease and carried it over to the precise spot, standing motionless with it, until such time as Holmes was satisfied. Thereupon, through the translation of Gialli once more, Holmes thanked the two men for their co-operation and asked them to return Perseus to his original berth.

  Still bearing the expression of confusion, the two men returned to the museum whilst Holmes bent over the fresh prints, and busied himself for a few moments with his glass and a measuring tape that he always carried with him. Upon rising once more, Holmes looked pensively from Gialli to myself and then to Gialli again finally realizing, from our expressions, that an explanation was now necessary.

  ‘Oh, but surely gentlemen, is the thing not obvious?!’ Holmes asked, with a light laugh. Despite his condescending tone, Gialli and I listened intently to his every word. ‘Inspector, your very own testimony has eliminated the possibility that the statue was removed through the building’s main entrance. Whilst my own simple experiment will prove conclusively that “The Dying Gaul” did not pass this way either. You see, the depth of the boot print, created by our clumsy intruder was matched precisely by that of the officer who stood in the mud, empty-handed. However the depths of the prints, created once your men were incommoded by the statue, were conside
rably greater. Therefore, because we have proven that the statue can be nowhere else, I have concluded that “The Dying Gaul” still resides within the confines of the museum!’

  ‘Holmes, why should anyone go to such lengths and take such risks only to leave the object that they have sought behind them when they leave?’ I asked him sceptically. Then, to my surprise, Gialli pre-empted Holmes’s reply.

  ‘Ah, Signor Holmes, I think that I understand you now! During the past three weeks the intruders, masquerading as the missing security guards, have been discreetly preparing a hiding place, wherein to secrete the statue while all attention was being diverted to the incident in the Bust Room. This will allow them to return for the statue at a time when the risk has been greatly minimised. Naturally, they will have assumed that their ruse will have successfully caused us to broaden our search beyond the confines of the museum.’

  Holmes clapped his hands excitedly: ‘Excellent Inspector! Your insight into the incident is almost as clear as my own. Of course, their plan might well have succeeded, had I not observed that minuscule mark on the fallen door, and even now we and your men would be conducting a fruitless search for a statue that was under our noses all the time!’

  ‘There is a mind of great guile and cunning behind this scheme,’ Gialli gravely pronounced.

  I glanced at Holmes and saw that he had paled visibly at this suggestion, as if a large, dark cloud had passed overhead.

  ‘Moriarty?’ I suggested, in a tone of quiet reverence that the name hardly deserved.

  ‘Ah, of course, this demonic professor of yours, Signor Holmes.’ Gialli rejoined. ‘Alas, however, our inquiries so far have revealed no evidence of his presence here in Rome.’

  ‘Yet he is here, I am sure of it.’ Said Holmes, his voice almost inaudible.

  ‘However, we have no reasonable means of closing in on him until such time as those two elusive guards have been located and prevailed upon to assist us. In the meantime, I suggest that we return to our most luxurious hotel and obtain some sorely needed sustenance and rest.’