Chapter 15 Chapter Thirteen The Emperor's Gift

Gutman opened the door.There was a happy smile on his fat face.Hold out a hand and say, "Oh, come in, sir! Thank you for coming, come in." Spade shook his hand and went in.The kid followed behind him.Fatty closed the door.Spade took the boy's two pistols out of his pockets and handed them to Gutman. "Take it, you shouldn't let him run around the street with this, it will hurt him." The fat man laughed heartily and took the pistol. "Okay, okay," he said. "What's going on here?" Looking at Spade, then at the kid. "A lame newspaper delivery man took the gun from him and I told him to hand it over," Spade said.

The pale boy took the gun from Gutman and put it in his pocket.He said nothing. Gutman laughed again. "By God, sir," he said to Spade, "you're a fellow worthy of a friend, a marvel. Come in, sit down, and give me your hat." The kid went out through a door on the right side of the room. The fat man settled Spade in a green velvet chair by the table, offered him a cigar, and lit him.Then he mixed the whiskey with soda water, handed Spade a glass, took one himself, and sat down facing Spade. "Now, sir, allow me to apologize to you for—" he said. "That's okay," Spade said. "Let's talk about the Blackhawks."

The fat man turned his head to the left and fixed his eyes on Spade affectionately. "Yes, sir," he agreed. "Let's talk about it," he said, taking a sip from the cup in his hand. "I dare say, sir, that in your line of business, a man as able as you is, has heard strange things. But this must be the strangest thing you have ever heard in your life. " Spade nodded politely. The fat man narrowed his eyes and asked, "Sir, have you heard of Jerusalem? It was later called the Knight of Rhodes or something?" Spade flicked his cigar. "Don't know - I just remember being mentioned in history at school - about the Crusades."

"Very well, do you remember someone who drove them out in 1523?" "have no idea." "Well, sir, he drove them out. They settled up there, and lived there for seven years. By 1530, they were persuaded to them" - Gutman held out three fat Counting on his fingers—"The island of Malta, and the three places in the world." "Well." "Exactly, but on the condition that they pay an annual tribute to the Emperor in the form of"—he held up a finger—"an eagle, to show that the island of Malta still belonged to Spain. And once they left the island, The island still has to be returned to Spain, understand? You know, the Emperor gave them the island, but they can't sell it or give it away once they don't need it anymore."

"Well." The fat man looked back at the three closed doors, pulled the chair closer to Spade, lowered his voice, and whispered in a hoarse voice: "Do you have any idea of ​​the incalculable wealth of the Knights Club back then?" "They were pretty well off, if I remember correctly," Spade said. Gutman smiled generously. "Very well, sir, that's an understatement." His whispering voice was softer, and more cheerfully content. "They're rich, sir. You can't imagine it. None of us can. They've been looting for ages. They've taken gold and silver, silks, ivory--all the best of the Orient. That's history, sir. We all know that to them, to them, holy wars were mostly just a plunder. And now about Emperor Charles, since he gave them the island of Malta, and the only rent he asked for was an annual tribute An insignificant eagle, this is just a symbolic rent. Then, is it not natural for these wealthy knights to want to express their gratitude to the Holy Lord Long in some way? Yes, sir, they are They did so, and they came up with an ingenious idea. In the first year, the tribute to Emperor Charles was not a living insignificant eagle, but a shining golden eagle. The packaging box was inlaid from top to bottom. Fine and precious jewels. And—don't forget, sir—they have fine jewels, the most precious in Asia." Guttmann stopped whispering, and looked at Spee with his sly black eyes. Looking at De's expressionless face, the fat man asked, "How about it, sir, what do you think about it?"

"I have no idea." The fat man smiled triumphantly. "These are facts, historical facts, not the history in the school textbooks, nor the history of the Communist Party. But it is indeed history." He leaned forward. "Archives of chivalry from the twelfth century are still in Malta. Of course, the archives are not complete. But there are at least"—he holds up three fingers—"three references to the jeweled eagle, and By no means could it refer to anything else. There is a reference to it in De La Ville Leroux's "Records of the Order of the Knights of St. —for the author died before finishing it—in the appendix to "The Origin and Organization of the Knights Templar" there is an unmistakable statement referring to the facts I have told you."

"Not bad," Spade said. "Yes, sir, this jeweled eagle a foot high was made by Turkish slaves in the castle of St. Emperor Charles of Spain. He put the eagle in a galleon, and asked a French knight named Comier or Corvier to steer the ship, and he was also a member of the Knights." He lowered his voice again. He whispered, "This eagle was never shipped to Spain." He pursed his lips and smiled, and asked, "Have you heard of Redbeard? No? He was a famous pirate captain at that time, and he plundered around Algiers." .Hey, it was he who robbed the knight's galleon, and robbed the eagle; the eagle landed in Algiers. This is a fact. This fact is stated in the French historian Pierre Dan from Algiers It is recorded in a letter which he wrote in. He wrote that the eagle, which had been kept there for more than a hundred years, was taken away by Sir Francis Verney, an English adventurer who had been with the Algerian pirates. After a while, maybe he didn't. But Pierre Dan thinks he took the eagle, and so do I.

"The Memoirs of the House of Verney in the Seventeenth Century, by Lady Francis Verney, does not mention the eagle, that is certain. I have seen it. And it is certain that he died in 1615." In a hospital the eagle was no longer with him. For he was by then penniless. But, sir, it cannot be denied that the eagle did land in Sicily and has been there ever since. 1713 After he ascended the throne, it fell into his hands. One of the gifts he gave to his wife at the wedding after he abdicated was this eagle. This is another fact, sir. Karotti, the author of "Things", has proved this point.

"Perhaps they—the Armados—brought it. He intended to annul the abdication there. Let it be. The eagle was passed to a Spaniard afterwards. 1734 He served in the conquering army in 1840—he was Don José Menino, father of Florida; and chancellor of Charles III. It fell into other hands before the end of 1840, which is not Material explanation. Later it appeared in Paris. Because Paris was full of followers of the Carlos dynasty at that time, these people were forced to flee from Spain. Some of them must have brought it to Paris. However, regardless of this Who is it, it seems that he has no idea of ​​the actual value of the eagle. For the sake of caution, in the war of the Carlos Dynasty in Spain, the eagle has been painted with a layer of enamel or paint, It appears to be nothing more than a rather amusing black statue. Monsieur, it may be said that in this guise, the eagle has been in Paris for seventy years and has come into contact with countless private collectors and dealers. They're so stupid. No one sees what's in there."

The fat man took a breath, smiled, and shook his head regretfully.Then he went on: "Monsieur, for seventy years this marvelous contraption, so to speak, circulated like a ball in the slums of Paris—until 1911, when a man named Carrillos Constance The Greek merchant of Tenny found it in a lonely shop. Carrillos soon found out its origin, and got it. No amount of enamel could hide its value from his eyes and nose. Oh, sir, it was Carrillos who found out most of the eagle's history himself, and recognized it for what it was. After I got wind of it, I tried my best to force him to tell most of the eagle's history. But since then Later, I can add some more details.

"Carrillos is in no hurry to cash in on his find. He knows--it's worth a fortune--and once it's authenticated, it can be sold for a hell of a lot. Maybe he's going to go with the The descendants of those knight orders in the early years did business-English knights of the Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, the White Cross Knights of Prussia; and the upper-class knights of Italian or German nationality in Malta, etc. Row." The fat man raised his glass, saw that it was empty, smiled, stood up and filled both glasses.While mixing soda water, he asked, "Are you beginning to believe it?" "I didn't say I didn't believe it." "I never said that," Gutman chuckled. "But look at you." He sat down and drank, dabbing his mouth with a white handkerchief. "Oh, sir, Carrillos re-enameled the eagle to make it what it is now, just to be on the safe side, during his history of the eagle. On the first anniversary of his possession—maybe I made it Three months after he told me this—I happened to see The Times in London with his house burglarized and his own murder. I was in Paris the next day Gutman shook his head sadly. "That eagle is gone. God, sir, I'm so mad. I don't believe anyone else knows what it really is, and I don't believe he told me and then told me. A lot of things have been stolen. So I guess the thief must not know what the eagle is, but just took the eagle with other stolen goods by the way. Because I dare say, if the thief knows the value of the eagle , he would not burden himself with anything else—absolutely not—at least, nothing but the crown jewels.” He closed his eyes, and the inner activity made him smile smugly.He opened his eyes and went on: "That was seventeen years ago. Well, sir. I've spent seventeen years looking for that eagle, and I've found it. Because I want it, and I'm a man Not the type to want something and get easily discouraged." He laughed even wider. "I want it, and I found it. I want it, and I must get it." He drank the wine in one breath, wiped his mouth, and put the handkerchief back into his pocket. "I tracked the eagle down to the house of a Russian general - Kemidov - who lived on the outskirts of Constantinople. He knew nothing about the eagle. To him Said it was nothing more than an enamelled statue. But he was born to be antagonistic—Russian generals were born to be antagonistic—and I offered him the eagle, and he refused. Perhaps I begged for the eagle so much, so I was a bit intactful at the time. Although the problem is not too big, I can't say it. But I just know that I want it. I am afraid that this stupid general will start to investigate the origin of his treasure. , will scrape off a bit of the enamel to see. So I sent some -- er -- agents, to try and get it. Say, sir, they got it. But the eagle didn't land In my hand." He stood up and walked to the table with the empty wine glass. "But I'm coming. Where's your glass, sir?" Spade asked, "So the eagle doesn't belong to you people? It belonged to General Kemidov?" "Belongs to?" said the fat man cheerfully. "Well, sir, you could say it belonged to the King of Spain. I don't see how you could honestly think it belonged to anyone--possessed at best." Ownership." He clicked his tongue. "This priceless antique is transferred from one person to another. Obviously, as long as whoever gets it, it is his property." "Then it's Miss O'Shaughnessy's property now?" "No, sir, she is acting as my attorney." Spade said wryly, "Oh." Gutman looked thoughtfully at the cork of the whiskey bottle in his hand, and asked, "Are you sure she has this right now?" "not necessarily." "Where?" "I don't know the exact location." The fat man slammed the wine bottle on the table and protested, "But you said you knew." Spade made a nonchalant gesture with one hand. "I mean, when the time comes, I know where to get it." The pink fat on Guttman's face is happily squeezed together."You know?" he asked. "Well." "Where are you going?" Spade grinned and said, "Leave it to me." "when?" "Wait until I'm ready." The fat man pursed his lips and asked with a nervous smile, "Mr. Spade, where is Miss O'Shaughnessy now?" "In my hands, I hid it safely." Gutman smiled approvingly. "I trust you on that, sir," he said, "well, sir, tell me this before we sit down to talk about the price: When are you going to—or when are you willing—to hand over the Black Hawk? " "In two or three days." Fatty nodded. "Then I'll be satisfied. We—well, I forgot our nourishment." He turned to the table, poured whiskey, mixed soda, and put a glass at Spade's elbow; Raise your glass. "Well, sir, I wish us both a fair deal and a great success." They drank together.Fatty sat down, and Spade asked, "What do you mean by fair trade?" Gutman raised his glass to the light, looked at it affectionately, took another swig, and said, "I have two proposals, sir. Both are fair. Take your pick. You give I'm Black Hawk, and I'll give you twenty-five thousand dollars, and the other twenty-five thousand dollars, I'll pay you as soon as I get to New York; or I'll pay you a quarter of what the Black Hawk sells for in cash -- that's a percent Twenty-five—you see, sir: one is fifty thousand almost immediately, and the other is a much larger sum, which means two or three months to wait." Spade took a sip of his wine and asked, "How big is the number?" "It's a huge sum," the fat man repeated. "Who knows how much? Should I say one hundred thousand, or two hundred and fifty thousand? I'll give you the lowest possible sum, do you believe it?" "Why don't you believe me?" The fat man smacked his lips, lowered his voice, and whispered happily. "Sir, if I say it's worth 500,000 yuan, do you agree?" Spade narrowed his eyes: "Do you think this thing is worth two million?" Gutman smiled serenely. "In your terms, why don't you believe it?" he asked. Spade finished his drink and put the glass on the table.Put the cigar in your mouth, take it out to look at it, put it in your mouth again.His sallow eyes were a little clouded."That's a lot of money," he said. "That's a lot of money," agreed the fat man, standing up and patting Spade on the knee. "It's sure to be the lowest price—maybe Carrillos Constantini is the number one fool—but he's not." Spade took the cigar out of his mouth again, frowned at it in disgust, and put the cigarette on the ashtray.He closed his eyes desperately, and opened them again.Things in front of me became more blurred.He said, "The lowest price? Eh? And the highest price?" His tongue was a little too big as he spoke. "Maximum price?" Gutman held out an empty hand, palm up. "I can't figure it out. You'd think me crazy. I don't know. No one can tell how high that price could be, sir, and that's the only truth." Spade pressed his drooping lower lip to his upper lip.He shook his head impatiently.There was a frightened gleam in his eyes--but it was getting blurry and unfeeling.Holding the armrests of the chair with both hands, he managed to stand up, shook his head again, and took a wobbly step forward.He laughed a few times in a hoarse voice, and said vaguely, "Damn you." Gutman jumped up and pushed back his chair.His fat, ball-like head shook slightly.A pair of eyes became two black holes in the oily pink face. Spade shook his head from side to side desperately.Those absent-minded eyes finally aimed at the door, and took another step wobbly. The fat man screamed, "Wilmer!" A door opened and the kid walked in. Spade took the third step, his face now grey, with jaw muscles sticking out like two tumors under his ears.After taking the fourth step on both legs, he couldn't straighten them.The blurred eyes could not even lift the eyelids.He took the fifth step. The kid walked over and moved closer to Spade, standing a little in front of him, but not directly blocking the door.Wilmer rested his right hand on the inside of his jacket.The corners of his mouth twitched. Spade wanted to take the sixth step. The kid's leg popped out in front of Spade, and Spade tripped over the leg and went slamming the shit out of him.Wilmer, still with his hands in his clothes, looked down at Spade.Spade tried to get up.The kid lifted his right foot and kicked Spade hard on the temple.The kick turned Spade over.He tried to get up again, but couldn't, and then fell into a coma.

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