Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen The Emperor's Gift

Gutman opened the door with a pleasant smile on his fat face.He held out his hand and said, "Oh, come in, sir. Thank you for coming. Come in." Spade shook his hand and went through the door.The lad followed.Gutman closed the door and Spade took the boy's pistol out of his pocket and handed it to the fat man. "Here. You shouldn't let him run around with these, he'll hurt himself." The fat man laughed happily and took the pistol. "Well, well," he said, "what's the matter?" He looked from Spade to the lad. "A lame newsboy snatched his gun, but I made him return it," Spade said.

The pale young man took the gun from Gutman and put it in his pocket without saying a word. Gutman laughed again. "By God, sir," he said to Spade, "you're a real fellow, you're a man. Come in, sit down, please. Give me your hat." The boy left the room through the door to the right of the entrance. The fat man asked Spade to sit on a green suede chair by the tea table, gave him a cigar, held up a lighter to light his cigarette, poured some whiskey into a glass, mixed it with soda water, and handed Spade a glass. Peder, holding another glass at the end, sat down across from Spade.

"Now, sir," he said, "I hope you accept my apology—" "Never mind," Spade said, "let's talk about Blackbird." The fat man turned his head slightly to the left, and looked at Spade with great interest. "Okay, sir," he agreed, "let's talk." He took a sip from the glass in his hand, "this will be the most shocking story you've ever heard, sir. I understand that in your In the industry, a talented person like you has seen a lot of strange things, but I still want to say this." Spade nodded politely. The fat man rolled his eyes and asked, "Sir, do you know about Jerusalem, which was later called the Knights of Rhodes?"

Spade flicked his cigar. "Not sure. I just remember the stuff from history class at school—the Crusades and all." "Very well. Then you don't know about their expulsion in 1523?" "have no idea." "Anyway, sir, he did it. The Knights moved and stayed there for seven years until 1530, when they persuaded them to give them three places—" Gutman held out three chubby hands Index up, ",, of." "Oh?" "That's right, sir, but there are conditions attached: they're going to pay the emperor every year—" He held out a finger, "an eagle, to show that Malta is still under Spanish rule, and once they leave, the The island has to be returned to Spain. Get it? He gave them the place, but only for their use, without the right to transfer or sell it to others."

"Ok." The fat man looked back at the three closed doors, moved his chair a few inches towards Spade, and whispered in a low voice: "The Knights had incalculable wealth back then, do you know a thing or two about it?" "If I remember correctly," Spade said, "they lived in abundance." Gutman smiled ecstatically. "Rich, sir, that's too kind of a way to say it." His voice was low, like a whisper, full of endless satisfaction. "They're rich, sir. You can't imagine it, and none of us can imagine it. Over the years they Looted from their bodies untold gems, gold, silver, silk, ivory--the best of the best from the East. This is a fact, sir. We all know they are alike. To them, the so-called Holy War Mainly to rob.

"In short, now that Malta is given to them, the rent he asks for is also a formality, but it is an annual tribute of an insignificant bird. Isn't it reasonable for these rich knights to try to express their gratitude? Sir Well, that's what they did. They came up with this amusing idea of ​​embedding a shiny golden eagle from head to toe with the most expensive jewels in their safe, to replace the worthless live eagle, as the first year Donate to Carlos. Don't forget, sir, they have jewels, the best jewels in Asia." Gutman paused, scanning Spade's calm face with bright dark eyes.Then he resumed his normal volume and asked, "Well, sir, what do you think of this story?"

"I have no idea." The fat man smiled with satisfaction: "This is a fact, it is real history, not the history in the textbook, not the history of Mr. Wells, but it is indeed history." He leaned forward, "The history of the Knights since the twentieth century The archives are still in Malta. The archives are incomplete, but there are at least three—” he held up three fingers—“a definite reference to the prized eagle. There is a mention in the "St. John's Order Archives". Although it is indirect, it is also a piece of evidence. There is also the unpublished "Origin and Organization of the Religious Knights"-because the author Pauly died when the book was still Not finished. Its appendix also clearly and unmistakably describes the historical facts I just mentioned to you."

"Okay," Spade said. "Listen, sir. The Grand Master ordered the Turkish slaves in Jean to build this foot-high jeweled eagle, and sent a ship to escort it to Spain to dedicate it to Carlos. The commander of the ship was the knight A member of the regiment, a French knight, I forget his name is Cormyr or Corville." He lowered his voice again, whispering, "That ship never reached Spain." Then he pursed his lips and asked: " Have you ever heard of Frederick Barbarossa, that is? No? He was a well-known pirate of his day, with his headquarters in Algiers. Anyway, sir, he took the order's warship, and he took the eagle too. That It is certainly true that the eagle was brought to Algiers. The French historian Pierre Dan mentioned this in a letter while he was in Algiers. He wrote: The eagle was brought to Algiers. The Eagle was kept free for more than a hundred years before being taken away by the English explorer Sir Francis Verney, who had mingled with the Algiers pirates for a while. Perhaps he did not take the Eagle away, but Pierre Dan Think so, that's enough for me.

"Indeed there is no mention of the eagle in Lady Francis Verney's Memoirs of the House of Verney in the Seventeenth Century. I have read that. It is certain that Sir Francis died in 1615 The eagle was not with him when he died in the hospital. He was penniless at the time. But, sir, it cannot be denied that the eagle went to Sicily and remained there until it fell into his hands. Shortly after his accession in 713. After his abdication, at the time of his marriage, the eagle was one of the presents given to his new wife. It is also true, sir. History of the Reign of Vittorio Amedeo II The author himself has confirmed this. Perhaps they—I mean Amedeo and his wife—brought the eagle to Turin when he tried to revoke his abdication. Nevertheless, the next time the eagle appears , has fallen into the hands of a Spaniard who had accompanied the army against Naples, and whose son was Don José Monino Iradondo, Duke of Florida Blanca, chief minister of Charles III. There is no evidence that the eagle ever strayed from the family until it appeared in Paris towards the end of 1840, when there were many of Don Carlos's faction in Paris who had escaped from Spain. An eagle was carried by one of them, but he was probably ignorant of its true value. It is presumed that at the time of the Carlos War, the eagle was painted or glazed, so that It appears to be nothing more than a fancy black statue as a defense, so to speak, sir, and in that guise it has wandered among private collectors and art dealers in Paris for seventy years, through countless A human hand, but no one has the discerning eye to recognize it for what it is."

The fat man put away his smile, shook his head annoyedly, and continued: "For more than seventy years, sir, this rare treasure can be said to have been lost in the world. Until 1911, a man named Krelaus The Greek antique dealer of Constantines found it in an obscure shop. Krillaus quickly figured out its origin and got it. No thick glaze could deceive his eyes and Nose. Anyway, sir, it was Krillaus who drew up most of the history of this eagle and verified it. When I heard the wind, I forced him to tell what he knew, but after that I did it myself I did some research and added some details.

"Krelaus is not in a hurry to sell the eagle. He knows that this thing is of great value, and as long as its authenticity is confirmed, it can be sold for a sky-high price. He may intend to sell the eagle to the descendants of the old knights—such as The English branch of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, the Prussian branch, and the Order of Malta in Italy or Germany—all rich knights." The fat man raised the glass, saw that it was empty, laughed again, and got up to pour himself and Spade. "Starting to trust me a little bit?" he said, pinching his soda bottle. "I didn't say I didn't believe it." "You didn't say that," Gutman giggled, "but look at your face." He sat down, drank a swig of wine, and pressed a white handkerchief to his mouth, "Later, Sir, in order to keep the eagle safe while studying its history, Krillaus reglazed the eagle to make it what it is now. The eagle fell into his hands for a year Then - about three months after I forced him to tell me the truth - I read in The Times of London that his house had been robbed and he had been killed. I was there the next day Paris." When he said this, he shook his head sadly. "The hawk is gone. My God, sir, I'm nearly mad. I'm sure no one else knows what it is; I'm sure he didn't tell anyone but me. There's been a lot of stuff stolen, so I Think the thief just took the eagle with the rest of the loot and didn't know what it was. I can assure you that if the thief knew its value, he wouldn't be burdening himself with other things .Certainly not, sir, unless it is of the class of the crown jewels." He closed his eyes, lost in his own thoughts, and smiled, then opened them, and said, "That was seventeen years ago. See, sir, I have spent all seventeen years looking for this eagle, But I found it anyway. I wanted it, and I'm not one to give up easily." A smile spread across his face, "I wanted it, so I found it; I wanted it I have to get it.” He drank the wine in the glass, wiped his mouth again, and put the handkerchief back in his pocket, “I tracked it all the way and found it in the home of a Russian general named Kemidov. Just outside Constantinople. He didn't know anything about it. To him it was just a black porcelain statue. But he was born to be antagonistic, and a born antagonistic The Russian general is not easy to deal with. So when I asked him to buy it, he refused to sell it to me. Maybe I was too impatient and didn't pay attention to my speaking skills, but it shouldn't be too much. I don't know if that's the case, I Just knew I wanted it, and I was afraid that this dumb soldier might start taking stock of his assets and maybe knock off a bit of the enamel. So I sent a couple of -- uh -- agents to get it Got it. Well, sir, they got it, I didn't." He got up, and went to the end table with his empty glass, "but I'll have it. Yours, sir." "Then this eagle does not belong to any of you," Spade asked, "but to this General Kemidov?" "Belongs to?" said the fat man cheerfully. "Come on, sir, you can say it belongs to the King of Spain, but these other people, you don't really think of them as the owner of the eagle, do you? At best they own it." He giggled Laughing, "Such a priceless treasure, with such ill-fated fate and several different owners, obviously, whoever can get it will belong to him." "Then it's Miss O'Shaughnessy's now?" "No, sir, except as my agent." Spade said wryly, "Oh." Gutman looked thoughtfully at the cork of the whiskey bottle in his hand and asked, "That thing is definitely in her hands now?" "I guess so." "Where?" "I am not sure." The fat man slammed the bottle down on the table. "But you said you knew!" he protested. Spade made a casual gesture. "I meant then that when the time comes, I know where to get it." The pink lump on Gutman's face squeezed out another happy expression. "You know?" he asked. "right." "Where?" Spade grinned and said, "Don't worry about it, it's my bottom line." "When will you pick it up?" "When I'm ready." The fat man pursed his lips, with a slightly uneasy smile, and asked, "Mr. Spade, where is Miss O'Shaughnessy now?" "In my hands, safe and hidden." Gutman smiled approvingly. "I believe you," said he, "then, sir, before we begin to haggle, answer me: when can you--or when will you--get the eagle out?" "Three to five days." Fatty nodded. "Almost. We—ah, I forgot our tonic." He turned to the coffee table, poured some whiskey, added some soda, handed a glass to Spade, and held his own over overhead. "Respect for fair trade and win-win!" They finished their drinks and the fat man sat down.Spade asked, "What do you mean by fair trade?" Gutman held the glass up to the light, looked at it emotionally, took another swig, and said, "I have two options, sir, and both are fair, take your pick. The first, If you give me the eagle, I'll pay you twenty-five thousand dollars; when I get to New York, I'll pay you another twenty-five thousand dollars; and the other way, I'll give you a quarter of the sale of the eagle. Sir, You're left with the options: $50,000 on your hands, or a lot more, but you'll have to wait a few months." Spade took a sip of his wine and asked, "How much more?" "Much more," the fat man repeated. "Who knows how much more? How can I say, 100,000, or 250,000? If I tell you the lowest possible price, will you believe me?" "why not?" The fat man smacked his lips loudly, lowered his voice, and murmured indistinctly: "Half a million, sir, what do you think?" Spade narrowed his eyes: "So you think that gadget is worth two million?" Gutman laughed silently and asked, "In your own words, why not?" Spade finished his glass and put it on the coffee table.He put a cigar in his mouth, looked at it again, and put it back.His gray-yellow eyes were vaguely cloudy."That's a lot of money," he said. The fat man agreed, "That's a lot of money." He leaned forward and patted Spade's knee, "That's definitely the lowest price, unless Krelaus Constantines is a nonsense An idiot, but he's not." Spade took the cigar out of his mouth again, frowned at it in disgust, and put it on the ashtray rack.He closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them, his eyes becoming more cloudy.He said, "The...lowest price, huh? What about the highest price?" He was talking a little too much. "The highest price?" Gutman stretched out his hand that wasn't holding the cup, and the palm stood up, "I don't guess. You will think I'm crazy. I don't know. No one can say how much the price can be, sir, this It's the truth, the only truth." Spade tried to press his lips together, but his lower lip drooped involuntarily.He shook his head impatiently, a sharp and terrified light flashed in his eyes, but was quickly covered by the increasingly thick color of chaos.He stood up with his hands on the armrests of the chair, shook his head again, and took a step forward hesitantly.Then he laughed, his voice hoarse and muffled, and he murmured, "You bloody bastard." Gutman jumped up and pulled the chair away.His whole body was shaking, his eyes were like a pair of black holes embedded in his shiny pink face. Spade's head turned from side to side, and his lifeless eyes finally turned to the door.He took another hesitant step. The fat man yelled, "Wilmore!" The door opened and the boy walked in.Spade took the third step. His face was ashen now, and the muscles on either side of his jaw bulged like tumors under his ears.After taking the fourth step, he couldn't straighten his legs, and his blurred eyes almost closed.He took the fifth step. The young man came over and stood next to Spade in front of him, with his right hand stretched out to the left chest inside the coat, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Spade tries to make a sixth move. The lad stuck out a leg and stopped in front of Spade.Spade tripped over this leg and fell hard on his face.The lad's right hand was still inside his coat, looking down at Spade.Spade tried to get up.The lad lifted his right foot back and kicked Spade hard on the temple.Spade was kicked and turned over.He tried again to get up, failed, and finally passed out.

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