The Oriental Casebook of Sherlock Holmes (33 page)

“I gather that you are an archaeologist,” he began, with a slight tone of condescension. His English was not quite perfect, but in the few words he uttered he communicated an overwhelming self-confidence.

“Not by training, only by continuing interest,” I answered in Dutch, a language which I had spoken since childhood. My answer, in his native language, delighted him and we both laughed.

“An Englishman who speaks perfect Dutch, a rare pleasure indeed!”

He seemed genuinely pleased, and our conversation continued that evening in both languages. We discussed the ancient ruins of India and the rest of Asia, comfortably isolating ourselves from the other guests.

Van Ruisdael had just finished the initial clearing of the famous Buddhist site known as Borobodur and had begun the preliminary investigation of a series of Hindoo temples at Prembanan, a village not far from Yogyakarta. But at a certain moment, his voice took on a more serious tone and he said: “But the monuments have not much interest for me. I am interested in deeper things, what lies behind them, perhaps.”

I asked him to describe these things, and without hesitation he answered: “These monuments, all of the historic period, all very recent from the point of view of mankind’s long history, all lifeless stone even though some of them bear remarkably beautiful sculptures, are the result of long processes about which we know very little. They are of greater interest to the historian than they are to me, for I am interested in origins, in human origins and man’s early society, in the earliest creatures man knew and domesticated, and his relationship to them. I am interested, in other words, in the origins of man’s culture. As you know, I began as a paleontologist interested in early mammals. It was only natural, therefore, that when I began to work on the Hindoo temples of Java I became intrigued with their portrayal of animals and other fantastic creatures. Have you ever looked at Hindoo sculpture not from the point of view of fantasy but from the point of view of reality, from its paleontological aspects?”

I said that I had not really ever considered the question, that I assumed that the rich imagination of the Hindoo had conceived these creations for didactic purposes, but that the world often turned out to be stranger than we first conceived it to be.

Van Ruisdael looked at me and said quite simply: “I too for the longest time shared your view. But my investigations have begun to lead me to see things differently. I believe now that these may be more than what we have believed them to be. These temples, with giant apes and monkeys, halfman, halfbird, elephant-headed, god-men riding on birds, on rodents, on bulls, four-armed deities, what indeed does all this represent?”

“Surely,” I said, “you do not believe that these are images of actual creatures of the past?”

He laughed and said, “In most cases not, though I do not believe that they are imaginary either. I believe, however, that they may represent ancient forms represented in religious life, the memory of ancient life forms used in early prehistoric ritual and sacrifices, perhaps now lost to us. In some cases, however, I am not sure what to believe.”

His face became quite serious and he moved slowly in his chair, searching in one of his coat pockets, from which he took a small circular silver box. He handed it to me and asked me to open it and examine the object which it contained. In it I found a small whitish object, about a quarter of an inch long, that I immediately recognised as a tooth.

“An incisor,” I said, “probably of rodens communis or rattus alexandrinus, the common field rat.”

“Yes, indeed,” said he. “Now look at this.” He then pulled a larger box from his coat and invited me to open it. Again, I found a whitish object, this time over four inches long, in form exactly like the first, only much larger. It was embedded in a black rock and had been partially fossilised.

“Extraordinary,” I said, “in form almost exactly like the first, except that it is many times bigger. It is the tooth of a rodent, or a rodent-like creature, but one of enormous size. I have never seen anything quite like it. The collections of Europe contain nothing remotely comparable.”

“You are obviously well versed in paleontology. You are correct. It is a rare find, from Sumatra in fact, where the species flourished millions of years ago but is now extinct. It is the tooth of a giant rat, an animal that may have been several feet long, an extremely dangerous and efficent creature, I might add. It is difficult to imagine what havoc could be wreaked by such an animal. One need only think of the speed of the common rat and add great size to it. There are few who could have recognised precisely what this is, and I compliment you. Perhaps you would like to visit my laboratory at some point and see some of my other specimens. I think you would find it most interesting.”

“Indeed, I should like to very much,” I replied. “Doch dieser Schwelle Zauber zu zerspalten, Bedarf ich eines Rattenzahns,” said I, quoting old Goethe.

Van Ruisdael smiled: “‘To break through this magic door, I need a rat’s tooth.’ So said Mephistopheles. Let us see what magic doors we must break through, then.”

Van Ruisdael explained that he would be visiting a couple of newly discovered sites outside the city and would be gone for several days. I would be welcome at any time after that. We continued to talk, and by the time we parted, most of the guests had left.

“I trust that you two had a pleasant and interesting talk,” said our host.

“Yes, indeed,” said Van Ruisdael. “Your friend here is well informed, an excellent archaeologist.” He then bade us all good evening. My eyes followed his huge bulk as he made his way to the door.

When we were alone, Maupertuis turned to me and said: “A brilliant mind, that one. But he knows no limits and takes great chances with his life. On two occasions now, I have had to go into the remote interior of our islands here to rescue him. He is fearless and will do anything for his science. He has no family, no close friends. His life is devoted to his work and his work only.”

“It is a devotion which I greatly admire,” I said.

“He must have sensed that, for you are the first person in whom I have seen him take other than ordinary passing interest.”

Maupertuis took out an old silver pocket watch and said, “It is late, and I still must prepare a document for the Maharajah’s signature in the morning. Sleep well, my dear friend.”

I watched the Baron as he slowly made his way up the circular staircase. I retired shortly thereafter, thinking that for the first time since I had left India something unusual was about to take place.

It was only towards the end of the week that I heard from Van Ruisdael. In a short note, which I received early one morning, he informed me that his trip had been unusually successful and that, if I were still of a mind, I could come over the following day at around four.

Finding Van Ruisdael’s quarters took longer than I expected. He lived off the Marleboro, in a boarding house called the “Peacock Throne” on one of those winding alleys behind the bazaar. After passing through a long series of low archways, one eventually came to a dead end. There, to the right, was a small wooden sign board with a peacock carved on it.

I knocked on the gate and was immediately ushered in by a servant, who took me to his quarters. The courtyard just the other side of the gate was beautifully cultivated. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the small hotel, which is what it was, was very tidy, unlike the rest of the city.

Van Ruisdael occupied a small white cottage at the back of the larger house towards the far end of the garden. It was a small stucco building, with a green tin roof. There was a narrow porch, which ran the circumference of the house. High walls gave his residence almost complete privacy.

When I entered, Van Ruisdael was seated at his desk in a very large room that served as both his parlor and his study. There were books and papers almost everywhere, and where there were not, there were bones, and specimens of every conceivable variety. In a quick glance at the shelves on the walls I noticed several large fossils, including the thighbone of an ancient ass, the skull of what looked to be an early ape, and several large specimens completely unfamiliar to me. One shelf contained enormous seashells, presumably of creatures long since vanished from the surrounding oceans. Van Ruisdael was apparently sorting through some of his latest finds, for there were boxes everywhere, some half opened, in which I could see the fruits of his recent explorations. He rose to greet me and wasted no time in bringing me to a comfortable chair near his desk.

There was a troubled look on his face but excitement in his eyes, a contradiction set deep in the expression on his face, as if he had found something of the greatest scientific interest, but at the same time mysterious and deeply troubling.

“It appears that your explorations were successful,” I said to him, pointing to one of the open cartons.

“Beyond my wildest expectations, my friend. Just a few days’ walk from here, I came upon a field of enormous richness in an unexplored area. Every conceivable kind of ancient form is to be found there. Look at this, a hitherto unknown form of
suinus selvaticus,
an ancient wild boar, and this, a humanoid skull, of unknown age and form. There is no end to it: an area of remains that covers several square kilometres that will need the most careful scrutiny.”

Van Ruisdael became breathless as he talked, and beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead as he continued to move his great bulk animatedly through the room, with far more grace than I had at first thought possible. He continued to expatiate on his findings, throwing new ideas out as fast as he could utter them. There was much in his talk that I immediately had to reject as the first sketches of a mind hard at work, but I could not deny his genius: I was in the presence of a first-rate mind at work on material of the utmost scientific importance.

His face suddenly darkened. He turned towards his desk, picked up an object from it, and handed it to me.

“Look at this,” he said. “What do you make of it?”

As soon as I saw it, I realised why he was disturbed. It was a large tooth, exactly the same as the fossil specimen of the giant rat that he had shown me a few nights before.

“This is the same as the fossil,” I said, “only it is modern. There is something wrong. If the fossil is what we think it is, then the creature has survived to the present from prehistoric times. But there is no other evidence for this. And no one has ever seen or described such a creature. Perhaps we have a coincidence of forms. This may be the tooth of a different animal, perhaps a member of another family.”

“The fact that no one has ever seen or reported such a creature is no argument against its existence. I agree that it is strange that such a creature would have survived and its existence still be largely unsuspected, but it is not impossible.”

“Let us eliminate whatever is impossible,” I said, “and whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the solution. In this case, there is no absolute impossibility, but a near one. The idea of a giant-sized rat surviving in its prehistoric form would go against the entire evolutionary trend of the species. Yet, we cannot rule it out. Do you intend to return to the field where you found it? If you do, I should be most happy to accompany you. Whether this turns out to be as interesting as it seems or not, I would at least get to see the field as a whole and the place of this rather incredible series of finds.”

“I would be most happy if you accompanied me, Redfern, for reaching the find spot entails a very difficult trip. It lies about fifty kilometres to the east of Solo in a deep depression in the central mountains. I do not know if any Dutchman has ever penetrated so far before, but I would prefer not to return alone this time. One never knows—a slip, a slight misstep, and one is down a precipice or into a chasm. A broken leg, or even an ankle, and one is doomed. And, besides, who knows what we will find?”