Holmes handed me a card upon which was printed: “Dr. HillBarton, 369 Half Moon Street.”
“That is your name for the evening, Watson. You will call uponBaron Gruner. I know something of his habits, and at half-pasteight he would probably be disengaged. A note will tell him inadvance that you are about to call, and you will say that you arebringing him a specimen of an absolutely unique set of Mingchina. You may as well be a medical man, since that is a partwhich you can play without duplicity. You are a collector this sethas come your way, you have heard of the Baron’s interest in thesubject, and you are not averse to selling at a price.”
“What price?”
“Well asked, Watson. You would certainly fall down badly if youdid not know the value of your own wares. This saucer was got forme by Sir James, and comes, I understand, from the collection ofhis client. You will not exaggerate if you say that it could hardly bematched in the world.”
“I could perhaps suggest that the set should be valued by anexpert.”
“Excellent, Watson! You scintillate to-day. Suggest Christie orSotheby. Your delicacy prevents your putting a price for yourself.”
“But if he won’t see me?”
“Oh, yes, he will see you. He has the collection mania in itsmost acute form—and especially on this subject, on which he is anacknowledged authority. Sit down, Watson, and I will dictate theletter. No answer needed. You will merely say that you are coming,and why.”
It was an admirable document, short, courteous, and stimulatingto the curiosity of the connoisseur. A district messenger was dulydispatched with it. On the same evening, with the precious saucerin my hand and the card of Dr. Hill Barton in my pocket, I set offon my own adventure.
The beautiful house and grounds indicated that Baron Grunerwas, as Sir James had said, a man of considerable wealth. A longThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1251winding drive, with banks of rare shrubs on either side, opened outinto a great gravelled square adorned with statues. The place hadbeen built by a South African gold king in the days of the greatboom, and the long, low house with the turrets at the corners,though an architectural nightmare, was imposing in its size andsolidity. A butler, who would have adorned a bench of bishops,showed me in and handed me over to a plush-clad footman, whoushered me into the Baron’s presence.
He was standing at the open front of a great case which stoodbetween the windows and which contained part of his Chinesecollection. He turned as I entered with a small brown vase in hishand.
“Pray sit down, Doctor,” said he. “I was looking over my owntreasures and wondering whether I could really afford to add tothem. This little Tang specimen, which dates from the seventhcentury, would probably interest you. I am sure you never sawfiner workmanship or a richer glaze. Have you the Ming saucerwith you of which you spoke?”
I carefully unpacked it and handed it to him. He seated himselfat his desk, pulled over the lamp, for it was growing dark, and sethimself to examine it. As he did so the yellow light beat upon hisown features, and I was able to study them at my ease.
He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His Europeanreputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was notmore than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and activelines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark,languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascinationfor women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the lattershort, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular andpleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I sawa murderer’s mouth it was there—a cruel, hard gash in the face,compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to trainhis moustache away from it, for it was Nature’s danger-signal,set as a warning to his victims. His voice was engaging and hismanners perfect. In age I should have put him at little over thirty,though his record afterwards showed that he was forty-two.
“Very fine—very fine indeed!” he said at last. “And you say youhave a set of six to correspond. What puzzles me is that I shouldnot have heard of such magnificent specimens. I only know ofone in England to match this, and it is certainly not likely to be inthe market. Would it be indiscreet if I were to ask you, Dr. HillBarton, how you obtained this?”
“Does it really matter?” I asked with as careless an air as I couldmuster.“You can see that the piece is genuine, and, as to the value,I am content to take an expert’s valuation.”
1252 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“Very mysterious,” said he with a quick, suspicious flash of hisdark eyes. “In dealing with objects of such value, one naturallywishes to know all about the transaction. That the piece is genuinecertain. I have no doubts at all about that. But suppose—I ambound to take every possibility into account—that it should proveafterwards that you had no right to sell?”
“I would guarantee you against any claim of the sort.”
“That, of course, would open up the question as to what yourguarantee was worth.”
“My bankers would answer that.”
“Quite so. And yet the whole transaction strikes me as ratherunusual.”
“You can do business or not,” said I with indifference. “I havegiven you the first offer as I understood that you were a connoisseur,but I shall have no difficulty in other quaerers.”
“Who told you I was a connoisseur?”
“I was aware that you had written a book upon the subject.”
“Have you read the book?”
“No.”
“Dear me, this becomes more and more difficult for me tounderstand! You are a connoisseur and collector with a veryvaluable piece in your collection, and yet you have never troubledto consult the one book which would have told you of the realmeaning and value of what you held. How do you explain that?”
“I am a very busy man. I am a doctor in practice.”
“That is no answer. If a man has a hobby he follows it up,whatever his other pursuits may be. You said in your note that youwere a connoisseur.”
“So I am.”