Chapter Nine

Rome, 1901

“Your Holiness,” said Holmes softly, “I am yours to command. If it is in my power to rectify this situation, I shall do so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” said the pontiff.

“Sometime within the past week, the papal apartments were robbed. What was taken is extremely valuable, but more important is the potential of those items to be used to embarrass the church and the papacy. That is what terrifies me.”

“May I ask what was taken?”

“A collection of cameos. Seven in all.”

“Where were they kept?” asked Holmes,

“The cameos themselves were kept in velvet bags and they resided in a black wooden box. In turn, the box was hidden in a recess behind one of the paintings in my study. Both the box and the door that covers the recess were locked, and both the box and recess had been relocked after the cameos were stolen.”

“Can you tell me the approximate size of the cameos?” asked Holmes.

“I should guess that each, which is housed in a silver frame, is approximately three to four inches wide by three to four inches high by and three or four inches deep.”

“Are they all the same shape, Your Holiness?”

“No, Mr. Holmes. There are some that are circular and a few that are elliptical.”

“And the weight, Your Holiness?”

“I should guess that each weighs several ounces, with the largest one perhaps weighing close to a pound. Each is mounted in an ornate silver frame that is a few inches deep.”

“All told, would you say they weigh about five pounds?” asked Holmes.

“That sounds about right,” replied the Pope.

“So, they are fairly small, rather lightweight, and I would guess easily concealed,” said Holmes.

“Yes, I guess they are,” said the pope with a definite sigh of misery.

“And the size of the box?” asked Holmes.

“I should say it was about a foot wide by six inches high and about five or six inches deep,” replied the pontiff.

“One more question, if I may,” asked Holmes.

“Of course,” said the pope.

“Were they fashioned with pins, so that they might be worn like real cameos, or are they purely artistic endeavors?”

“There are no pins per se attached to the cameos. I suppose if one wanted, the frames could be attached to a chain, but they are not the type of cameos that you see women wearing now. So to answer your question, no. I don’t think they could be worn unless they were removed from the silver frames that hold them. However, I cannot for the life of me, imagine anyone but the most depraved soul ever wanting to display these in public,” said the pope.

“You said they were valuable in and of themselves,” said Holmes. “May I ask what makes them so precious?”

“These cameos were the work of one of the greatest artists ever to live. Michelangelo Buonarotti - the same man who painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and created the Pieta - fashioned them - although why he did so has always puzzled me.”

“Michelangelo,” mused Holmes, “so these miniatures are the work of an artist who spent years laboring in the service of the Church but also felt the need to create something that could bring shame to the church and the papacy.

Interesting.”

“How many people know about these cameos?” asked Holmes.

“It is a secret that is passed on to each pope, although rumors about their existence and origin have circulated for centuries, I suppose. I first heard of their existence when I was a seminarian many years ago.”

“As you might expect, Mr. Holmes, learning they actually do exist and then seeing them proved rather an unsettling discovery for me. However, to answer your question, as far as I know, I am the only person in the world who knows of their existence with absolute certainty, except of course for yourself and Dr. Watson now.”

“Well, we can safely assume that at least one other person knew,” said Holmes.

“Yes, but how did that person come by this knowledge?” asked the pope. “As you might suspect, Mr. Holmes, the head of the church is entrusted with a great many secrets. I have taken special pains throughout my reign to make certain that no one has ever learned of these cameos.”

“I understand,” said Holmes. “I am equally certain that in the course of my investigation, I shall learn how their existence came to light. Now, Your Holiness, may I see the room where the cameos were kept?”

“Of course, Mr. Holmes. Follow me,” said Pope Leo.

We left the kitchen and walked up a narrow stairway, which I am guessing was used more often by the servants than the pope. Upon arriving at the second floor, we walked down a wide hall toward the front of the building. We entered a large sitting room and then passed through a door to a much smaller study. “This is where the cameos were kept,” said Pope Leo.

“I should like very much to examine this room in detail,” said Holmes.

The room contained a large oak desk with one chair behind it and two sitting chairs in front. The walls were covered with bookcases and in between each bookcase hung a painting. Looking at them, I recognized a scene from “The Divine Comedy,” which depicted Dante standing between the city of Florence and the mountain of purgatory. I also saw a portrait of St. Michael the Archangel as well as renderings of several other saints and one depiction of Mary, the mother of Christ.

After taking everything in, Holmes looked at the pope and said, “I assume the recess is located behind painting of the Virgin Mary.”

The pope looked totally flummoxed as he stared at Holmes and asked, “But how could you possibly know that?” “I did not know, but I am aware of the high regard with which Your Holiness holds both St. Michael and the Virgin,” said Holmes, indicating the artwork. “Given the fact that the portrait of St. Michael is across the room from your desk and appears to be quite heavy while the painting depicting Mary is much closer to your desk and appears to be just wide enough to conceal a recess of the dimensions you described, I deduced that is where the secret compartment must be.” “Mr. Holmes, you amaze me,” exclaimed the pope.

“May I remove the painting,” asked Holmes.

“Of course,” said the Pope.

Holmes strode across the room, grasped the frame and lifted. He turned and carefully placed the image on the pope’s desk. Taking out his lens, he began to examine the door that concealed the recess. Speaking more to himself than us, he said, “Picking this lock would be child’s play for an accomplished thief, but whoever did open this door without the key was no professional. There are a number of small scratches here and there that appear to be quite recent. They are readily visible to the naked eye and indicative of a shaky hand, poor eyesight or both.”

Removing a small case from his pocket, Holmes selected a slender pick and had the lock open in about two seconds. He then removed the box, which the pope had described to us earlier. Training his lens upon that lock, he remarked to no one in particular, “There are similar scratch marks on this lock as well.”

“I can say with certainty that you were not robbed by a professional thief,” said Holmes. “Your Holiness, besides yourself, who else has access to these rooms on a regular basis?”

“Outside of the household staff and my advisors, no one, Mr. Holmes,” answered the pope,

“And you’re certain of that, Your Holiness?”

“I am.”

“Then I am afraid that I must inform you that this robbery was committed by a member of your staff,” said Holmes.

“I will not say that’s impossible,” said the pope. “I have too much respect for your abilities. But I do hope, at least in this instance, that you are wrong, Mr. Holmes.”

Softening, Holmes said quietly, “I hope for your sake that I am as well, Your Holiness, but I rather doubt that I am.”

“Would it be possible to get a list of the staff and then for you to schedule meetings for us?” asked Holmes.

“I shall have Cardinal Oreglia prepare the list, which I shall send to you in the morning. Also, I shall arrange to have the entire staff here tomorrow afternoon.”

“If Your Holiness has no objections, I should like to conduct my interviews in this room,” said Holmes.

“Not at all, Mr. Holmes.”

“We can do no more tonight,” said Holmes. “Would Your Holiness like us to return to the convent through il passetto?” asked Holmes.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Holmes.”

“Then we will take our leave,” said Holmes. “And we will meet you back here tomorrow at ...” Holmes let the sentence trail off.

“Does two o’clock suit you, Mr. Holmes?” asked the pope. “I am hoping that you can finish early enough to enjoy your tea at its proper time.”

“Until then,” said Holmes.

The pope walked us downstairs and back to the entrance of the passageway. “Good night and God bless you, gentlemen, and may I say, I feel much better already, Mr. Holmes.”

“Hopefully, we can put this unpleasantness behind us before too long,” replied Holmes.

As we walked through the passage toward the Castle Sant’Angelo, I asked Holmes, “Do you really think you can wrap this up that quickly, Holmes?”

“No,” said Holmes, “I am afraid that we have taken just the first few steps on what may prove to be a very long and very dark journey, Watson.”

“Then why did you tell the pope that?”

“With everything Pope Leo has on his mind, I thought a little white lie might serve him far better than the unvarnished truth at this point.”

“Holmes, you are incorrigible!”

“Perhaps, Watson. Perhaps, I am. Now, tell me what you learned from this evening. You saw everything I saw. What struck you?”

“Well, I agree that the locks were picked by an amateur. That much is obvious.”

“And how did they get the cameos out of the Vatican?”

“I assume they just put them in their pocket and left,” I answered. “I think there’s a bit more to it than that,” said Holmes. “I think that the woman who took them pinned the bags to the inside of her garment in different places to avoid any telltale, jangling noises as well as to avoid damaging the cameos. After all, Watson, they were created by Michelangelo.”

“A woman, you say?”

“Yes, I am quite certain of that. And I am equally certain of how she committed the theft. The only thing that puzzles me is the why, and once we know that we will also know in which direction we must proceed.”

We traversed the rest of the passage in silence, nodded at the Swiss Guards and entered St. Peter’s Square. Despite the late hour, there were still a few people strolling about. As we passed the obelisk, Holmes said, “I hope you brought your key, Watson. I should hate to disturb any of the sisters at this time of night.”

“I have it here,” I said.

As we neared the convent, I noticed the entire building was dark, save for the lights in the small chapel.

“Someone is late at her prayers,” I remarked to Holmes.

“Perhaps someone has a reason to be,” the detective remarked enigmatically.

As we reached the rear door, Holmes turned to me and said very softly, “Give me your key, old man. I am going to smoke a pipe in the courtyard. I rather doubt the nuns would enjoy the aroma of my shag, and I have the feeling that this may turn out to be a two- or three-pipe problem.”

I opened the door, handed him my key and headed upstairs while Holmes proceeded into the courtyard. After changing for bed, I looked out the window. Although I couldn’t see my friend in the darkness, if I strained my eyes, I thought I could just discern the soft glow of the embers in his pipe.

As I drifted into a well-deserved sleep, I thought I heard the sound of voices and promptly decided that I was dreaming, without giving it a second thought.