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Museum!’

Two

S IR C HARLES D ISCOURSES
    ‘O f course, I was once an habitué of this noble building. When I first arrived in London, making my way in the world, I had rooms round in Montague Street, and I often came here to study in the reading room, which also had the additional benefits of being warm and free.’ So announced Sherlock Holmes as, together with Inspector Hardcastle, we passed through the great gates of the museum and approached the eight massive ionic columns which stand, as sentinels, before its entrance.
    Once inside, Hardcastle took the lead and led us towards the office of Sir Charles Pargetter. To reach it, we had to pass beyond the public area of the museum. At this point, a heavily-moustached member of the security staff checked the policeman’s credentials thoroughly before allowing us to progress further. We then moved down a series of hushed, narrow, dimly-lighted corridors until, at last, we came to a door which bore the name of the man whom we were there to meet.
    Hardcastle knocked loudly. There was a brief pause, and then a strident voice, tinged with irritation, called out, ‘Enter.’
    We found ourselves in a bright, airy room with one large curtainlesswindow which looked out on the north-west wing of the museum. The room itself was crammed with bookcases, all overflowing, and the floor was littered with various documents and note-books. Sir Charles was standing behind a large oak desk, leaning forward, scrutinising an ancient map through a magnifying glass. He failed to look up at our entrance, but continued to gaze, mesmerised, at the map.
    With deliberation, Holmes slammed the door shut. This broke the man’s concentration and, uttering a grunt of irritation, he glanced up at us. He was a small man, Pickwickian in appearance, with bright blue eyes shining behind a pair of wire-framed spectacles. He was bald-headed, but the hair at the side of his head, sandy in colour but peppered with grey stuck out in confusion as though it were bursting free of his scalp.
    ‘Ah, Inspector Horncastle,’ he said, his eyes narrowing as he took in his other two visitors.
    ‘Hardcastle, sir,’ corrected the Inspector.
    ‘Quite.’ Sir Charles waved his magnifying glass in our direction. ‘Don’t tell me you have apprehended the culprits at last?’
    Hardcastle, who was unable to catch the tinge of irony in this remark, looked somewhat dismayed. ‘No, sir. This is Mr Sherlock Holmes and his associate, Doctor Watson.’
    At the mention of my friend’s name, Sir Charles threw down the magnifying glass, stepped from behind the desk, and grasped Holmes’ hand warmly. ‘Ah, Sherlock Holmes. You have come to our aid, I hope.’
    ‘I will do all I can.’
    Sir Charles nodded thoughtfully as he shook my hand also. ‘Indeed, it is all that one can do in life. We are placed upon this Earth to perform a series of tasks, whatever they may be, lowly or exalted, and it is incumbent upon us all to perform them to the very best of our ability. Eh, Inspector?’
    Hardcastle nodded and shifted his feet. He had no time for suchphilosophical niceties; he was keen to get on with the business in hand. ‘Mr Holmes is here to find out more about the robbery,’ he said bluntly.
    ‘Indeed. How may I help?’
    ‘I need to know more of the nature of the stolen document before I can construct any theories which could form a basis for action,’ said Holmes.
    ‘I understand. Very well, find a seat gentlemen... you may have to move some of my papers to do so. That’s right. Good. Oh dear, there doesn’t seem to be a chair for you, Inspector.’
    ‘I’m quite happy to stand, sir,’ came the muted reply.
    Now seated behind his desk, the little man was almost dwarfed by it. He removed his spectacles and cleaned them with an enormous blue handkerchief.
    ‘You must realise, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I am still in mourning for the loss of the papyrus. It was quite unique. Ah, but let me begin at the beginning.’ He