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  • THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

  • Adventure VII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE

  • I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas,

  • with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season.

  • He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach

  • upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied,

  • near at hand.

  • Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and

  • disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places.

  • A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been

  • suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination.

  • "You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you."

  • "Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can

  • discuss my results.

  • The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb in the direction of the

  • old hat--"but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely

  • devoid of interest and even of instruction."

  • I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a

  • sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals.

  • "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story

  • linked on to it--that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some

  • mystery and the punishment of some crime."

  • "No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing.

  • "Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have

  • four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square

  • miles.

  • Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible

  • combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will

  • be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal.

  • We have already had experience of such."

  • "So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes,

  • three have been entirely free of any legal crime."

  • "Precisely.

  • You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of

  • Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip.

  • Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent

  • category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?"

  • "Yes."

  • "It is to him that this trophy belongs." "It is his hat."

  • "No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown.

  • I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual

  • problem. And, first, as to how it came here.

  • It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I

  • have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire.

  • The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you

  • know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and

  • was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road.

  • In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger,

  • and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder.

  • As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a

  • little knot of roughs.

  • One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend

  • himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him.

  • Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man,

  • shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in

  • uniform rushing towards him, dropped his

  • goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at

  • the back of Tottenham Court Road.

  • The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in

  • possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of

  • this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose."

  • "Which surely he restored to their owner?" "My dear fellow, there lies the problem.

  • It is true that 'For Mrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tied to

  • the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.' are legible upon

  • the lining of this hat, but as there are

  • some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is

  • not easy to restore lost property to any one of them."

  • "What, then, did Peterson do?"

  • "He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the

  • smallest problems are of interest to me.

  • The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the

  • slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay.

  • Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose,

  • while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas

  • dinner."

  • "Did he not advertise?" "No."

  • "Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?"

  • "Only as much as we can deduce."

  • "From his hat?" "Precisely."

  • "But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered

  • felt?"

  • "Here is my lens. You know my methods.

  • What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this

  • article?"

  • I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully.

  • It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse

  • for wear.

  • The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured.

  • There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H. B." were

  • scrawled upon one side.

  • It was pierced in the brim for a hat- securer, but the elastic was missing.

  • For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places,

  • although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by

  • smearing them with ink.

  • "I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend.

  • "On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything.

  • You fail, however, to reason from what you see.

  • You are too timid in drawing your inferences."

  • "Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?"

  • He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was

  • characteristic of him.

  • "It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been," he remarked, "and yet

  • there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent

  • at least a strong balance of probability.

  • That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and

  • also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now

  • fallen upon evil days.

  • He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral

  • retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate

  • some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him.

  • This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him."

  • "My dear Holmes!"

  • "He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he continued, disregarding

  • my remonstrance.

  • "He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training

  • entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few

  • days, and which he anoints with lime-cream.

  • These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat.

  • Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his

  • house."

  • "You are certainly joking, Holmes." "Not in the least.

  • Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see

  • how they are attained?"

  • "I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow

  • you. For example, how did you deduce that this

  • man was intellectual?"

  • For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head.

  • It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose.

  • "It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have

  • something in it." "The decline of his fortunes, then?"

  • "This hat is three years old.

  • These flat brims curled at the edge came in then.

  • It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the

  • excellent lining.

  • If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has

  • had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world."

  • "Well, that is clear enough, certainly.

  • But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?"

  • Sherlock Holmes laughed.

  • "Here is the foresight," said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of

  • the hat-securer. "They are never sold upon hats.

  • If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went

  • out of his way to take this precaution against the wind.

  • But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it,

  • it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct

  • proof of a weakening nature.

  • On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt

  • by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-

  • respect."

  • "Your reasoning is certainly plausible."

  • "The further points, that he is middle- aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it

  • has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a

  • close examination of the lower part of the lining.

  • The lens discloses a large number of hair- ends, clean cut by the scissors of the

  • barber.

  • They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream.

  • This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the

  • fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of

  • the time, while the marks of moisture upon

  • the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could

  • therefore, hardly be in the best of training."

  • "But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him."

  • "This hat has not been brushed for weeks.

  • When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat,

  • and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also

  • have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection."

  • "But he might be a bachelor." "Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a

  • peace-offering to his wife.

  • Remember the card upon the bird's leg." "You have an answer to everything.

  • But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?"

  • "One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than

  • five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought

  • into frequent contact with burning tallow--

  • walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in

  • the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a

  • gas-jet.

  • Are you satisfied?"

  • "Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you said just now,

  • there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all

  • this seems to be rather a waste of energy."

  • Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and

  • Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the

  • face of a man who is dazed with astonishment.

  • "The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped.

  • "Eh?

  • What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off

  • through the kitchen window?"

  • Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited

  • face. "See here, sir!

  • See what my wife found in its crop!"

  • He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly

  • scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and

  • radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

  • Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "By Jove, Peterson!" said he, "this is

  • treasure trove indeed.

  • I suppose you know what you have got?" "A diamond, sir?

  • A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were

  • putty."

  • "It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone."

  • "Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!"

  • I ejaculated.

  • "Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing

  • that I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately.

  • It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward offered

  • of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price."

  • "A thousand pounds!

  • Great Lord of mercy!" The commissionaire plumped down into a

  • chair and stared from one to the other of us.

  • "That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental

  • considerations in the background which would induce the Countess to part with half

  • her fortune if she could but recover the gem."

  • "It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan," I remarked.

  • "Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago.

  • John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel-

  • case.

  • The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes.

  • I have some account of the matter here, I believe."

  • He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed

  • one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph:

  • "Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery.

  • John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd

  • inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem

  • known as the blue carbuncle.

  • James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had

  • shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the

  • robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose.

  • He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away.

  • On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been

  • forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards

  • transpired, the Countess was accustomed to

  • keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table.

  • Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the

  • stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms.

  • Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of

  • dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she

  • found matters as described by the last witness.

  • Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who

  • struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms.

  • Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the

  • prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it

  • to the Assizes.

  • Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted

  • away at the conclusion and was carried out of court."

  • "Hum!

  • So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the paper.

  • "The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled

  • jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other.

  • You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and

  • less innocent aspect.

  • Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry

  • Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I

  • have bored you.

  • So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining

  • what part he has played in this little mystery.

  • To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an

  • advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to

  • other methods."

  • "What will you say?" "Give me a pencil and that slip of paper.

  • Now, then: 'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat.

  • Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B,

  • Baker Street.' That is clear and concise."

  • "Very.

  • But will he see it?" "Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the

  • papers, since, to a poor man, the loss was a heavy one.

  • He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach

  • of Peterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have

  • bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird.

  • Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who

  • knows him will direct his attention to it.

  • Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the

  • evening papers." "In which, sir?"

  • "Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, Evening News, Standard, Echo, and

  • any others that occur to you." "Very well, sir.

  • And this stone?"

  • "Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you.

  • And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me,

  • for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your

  • family is now devouring."

  • When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the

  • light. "It's a bonny thing," said he.

  • "Just see how it glints and sparkles.

  • Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime.

  • Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits.

  • In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed.

  • This stone is not yet twenty years old.

  • It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in

  • having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade

  • instead of ruby red.

  • In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history.

  • There have been two murders, a vitriol- throwing, a suicide, and several robberies

  • brought about for the sake of this forty- grain weight of crystallised charcoal.

  • Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the

  • prison?

  • I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we

  • have it." "Do you think that this man Horner is

  • innocent?"

  • "I cannot tell." "Well, then, do you imagine that this other

  • one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?"

  • "It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man,

  • who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value

  • than if it were made of solid gold.

  • That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to our

  • advertisement." "And you can do nothing until then?"

  • "Nothing."

  • "In that case I shall continue my professional round.

  • But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like

  • to see the solution of so tangled a business."

  • "Very glad to see you.

  • I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe.

  • By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to

  • examine its crop."

  • I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found

  • myself in Baker Street once more.

  • As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was

  • buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from

  • the fanlight.

  • Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes' room.

  • "Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his

  • visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume.

  • "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker.

  • It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than

  • for winter.

  • Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time.

  • Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?" "Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat."

  • He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent

  • face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown.

  • A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand,

  • recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits.

  • His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned

  • up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt.

  • He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the

  • impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the

  • hands of fortune.

  • "We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because we expected to

  • see an advertisement from you giving your address.

  • I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise."

  • Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings have not been so plentiful with

  • me as they once were," he remarked.

  • "I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat

  • and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a

  • hopeless attempt at recovering them."

  • "Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were

  • compelled to eat it." "To eat it!"

  • Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement.

  • "Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so.

  • But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same

  • weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?"

  • "Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

  • "Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so

  • if you wish--"

  • The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as relics of my

  • adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of

  • my late acquaintance are going to be to me.

  • No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to

  • the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard."

  • Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  • "There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he.

  • "By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from?

  • I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose."

  • "Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under

  • his arm.

  • "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum--we are to be

  • found in the Museum itself during the day, you understand.

  • This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on

  • consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at

  • Christmas.

  • My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you.

  • I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years

  • nor my gravity."

  • With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon

  • his way. "So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes

  • when he had closed the door behind him.

  • "It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter.

  • Are you hungry, Watson?" "Not particularly."

  • "Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while

  • it is still hot." "By all means."

  • It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our

  • throats.

  • Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the

  • passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots.

  • Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors' quarter,

  • Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street.

  • In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a

  • small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn.

  • Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from

  • the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. "Your beer should be excellent if it is as

  • good as your geese," said he.

  • "My geese!" The man seemed surprised.

  • "Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of

  • your goose club."

  • "Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese."

  • "Indeed! Whose, then?"

  • "Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden."

  • "Indeed? I know some of them.

  • Which was it?"

  • "Breckinridge is his name." "Ah!

  • I don't know him. Well, here's your good health landlord, and

  • prosperity to your house.

  • Good-night." "Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued,

  • buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air.

  • "Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of

  • this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal

  • servitude unless we can establish his innocence.

  • It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we

  • have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular

  • chance has placed in our hands.

  • Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!"

  • We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to

  • Covent Garden Market.

  • One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a

  • horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put

  • up the shutters.

  • "Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes.

  • The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.

  • "Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of

  • marble. "Let you have five hundred to-morrow

  • morning."

  • "That's no good." "Well, there are some on the stall with the

  • gas-flare." "Ah, but I was recommended to you."

  • "Who by?"

  • "The landlord of the Alpha." "Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen."

  • "Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?"

  • To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman.

  • "Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, "what are you

  • driving at?

  • Let's have it straight, now." "It is straight enough.

  • I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha."

  • "Well then, I shan't tell you.

  • So now!" "Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I

  • don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle."

  • "Warm!

  • You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am.

  • When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but

  • it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you

  • take for the geese?'

  • One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made

  • over them."

  • "Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries,"

  • said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the bet is off, that

  • is all.

  • But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it

  • that the bird I ate is country bred." "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for

  • it's town bred," snapped the salesman.

  • "It's nothing of the kind." "I say it is."

  • "I don't believe it."

  • "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a

  • nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to

  • the Alpha were town bred."

  • "You'll never persuade me to believe that." "Will you bet, then?"

  • "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right.

  • But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate."

  • The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said he.

  • The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one,

  • laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.

  • "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I was out of

  • geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop.

  • You see this little book?"

  • "Well?" "That's the list of the folk from whom I

  • buy. D'you see?

  • Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their

  • names are where their accounts are in the big ledger.

  • Now, then!

  • You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers.

  • Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me."

  • "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes.

  • "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger."

  • Holmes turned to the page indicated.

  • "Here you are, 'Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'"

  • "Now, then, what's the last entry?" "'December 22nd.

  • Twenty-four geese at 7s.

  • 6d.'" "Quite so.

  • There you are. And underneath?"

  • "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'"

  • "What have you to say now?" Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined.

  • He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away

  • with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words.

  • A few yards off he stopped under a lamp- post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless

  • fashion which was peculiar to him.

  • "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' protruding out of

  • his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," said he.

  • "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of him, that man would not

  • have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was

  • doing me on a wager.

  • Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which

  • remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-

  • night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow.

  • It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides

  • ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should--"

  • His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall

  • which we had just left.

  • Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle

  • of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the

  • salesman, framed in the door of his stall,

  • was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure.

  • "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted.

  • "I wish you were all at the devil together.

  • If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you.

  • You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with

  • it?

  • Did I buy the geese off you?" "No; but one of them was mine all the

  • same," whined the little man. "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it."

  • "She told me to ask you."

  • "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care.

  • I've had enough of it. Get out of this!"

  • He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

  • "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes.

  • "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow."

  • Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring

  • stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the

  • shoulder.

  • He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour had

  • been driven from his face. "Who are you, then?

  • What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice.

  • "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the

  • questions which you put to the salesman just now.

  • I think that I could be of assistance to you."

  • "You? Who are you?

  • How could you know anything of the matter?"

  • "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people

  • don't know." "But you can know nothing of this?"

  • "Excuse me, I know everything of it.

  • You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of

  • Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr.

  • Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his

  • club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member."

  • "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the little fellow

  • with outstretched hands and quivering fingers.

  • "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."

  • Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing.

  • "In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept

  • market-place," said he.

  • "But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of

  • assisting." The man hesitated for an instant.

  • "My name is John Robinson," he answered with a sidelong glance.

  • "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly.

  • "It is always awkward doing business with an alias."

  • A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger.

  • "Well then," said he, "my real name is James Ryder."

  • "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan.

  • Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would

  • wish to know."

  • The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-

  • hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or

  • of a catastrophe.

  • Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at

  • Baker Street.

  • Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new

  • companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the

  • nervous tension within him.

  • "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room.

  • "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather.

  • You look cold, Mr. Ryder.

  • Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we

  • settle this little matter of yours. Now, then!

  • You want to know what became of those geese?"

  • "Yes, sir." "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose.

  • It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested--white, with a black bar

  • across the tail." Ryder quivered with emotion.

  • "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?"

  • "It came here." "Here?"

  • "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved.

  • I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it.

  • It laid an egg after it was dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that

  • ever was seen.

  • I have it here in my museum." Our visitor staggered to his feet and

  • clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand.

  • Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a

  • star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance.

  • Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.

  • "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly.

  • "Hold up, man, or you'll be into the fire!

  • Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson.

  • He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity.

  • Give him a dash of brandy.

  • So! Now he looks a little more human.

  • What a shrimp it is, to be sure!"

  • For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of

  • colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser.

  • "I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need,

  • so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared

  • up to make the case complete.

  • You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar's?"

  • "It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in a crackling voice.

  • "I see--her ladyship's waiting-maid.

  • Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it

  • has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you

  • used.

  • It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you.

  • You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter

  • before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him.

  • What did you do, then?

  • You made some small job in my lady's room-- you and your confederate Cusack--and you

  • managed that he should be the man sent for.

  • Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this

  • unfortunate man arrested. You then--"

  • Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion's knees.

  • "For God's sake, have mercy!" he shrieked. "Think of my father!

  • Of my mother!

  • It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before!

  • I never will again. I swear it.

  • I'll swear it on a Bible.

  • Oh, don't bring it into court! For Christ's sake, don't!"

  • "Get back into your chair!" said Holmes sternly.

  • "It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor

  • Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing."

  • "I will fly, Mr. Holmes.

  • I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break

  • down." "Hum!

  • We will talk about that.

  • And now let us hear a true account of the next act.

  • How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market?

  • Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety."

  • Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips.

  • "I will tell you it just as it happened, sir," said he.

  • "When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get

  • away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not

  • take it into their heads to search me and my room.

  • There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe.

  • I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister's house.

  • She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened

  • fowls for the market.

  • All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and,

  • for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to

  • the Brixton Road.

  • My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I

  • had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel.

  • Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to

  • do.

  • "I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving

  • his time in Pentonville.

  • One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they

  • could get rid of what they stole.

  • I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made

  • up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence.

  • He would show me how to turn the stone into money.

  • But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through

  • in coming from the hotel.

  • I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in

  • my waistcoat pocket.

  • I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were

  • waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me

  • how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.

  • "My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for

  • a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word.

  • I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn.

  • There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds--a

  • fine big one, white, with a barred tail.

  • I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as

  • my finger could reach.

  • The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its

  • crop.

  • But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the

  • matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke

  • loose and fluttered off among the others.

  • "'Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?' says she.

  • "'Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which

  • was the fattest.'

  • "'Oh,' says she, 'we've set yours aside for you--Jem's bird, we call it.

  • It's the big white one over yonder.

  • There's twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for

  • the market.'

  • "'Thank you, Maggie,' says I; 'but if it is all the same to you, I'd rather have that

  • one I was handling just now.'

  • "'The other is a good three pound heavier,' said she, 'and we fattened it expressly for

  • you.' "'Never mind.

  • I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I.

  • "'Oh, just as you like,' said she, a little huffed.

  • 'Which is it you want, then?'

  • "'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.'

  • "'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.'

  • "Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn.

  • I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like

  • that to.

  • He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose.

  • My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some

  • terrible mistake had occurred.

  • I left the bird, rushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard.

  • There was not a bird to be seen there. "'Where are they all, Maggie?'

  • I cried.

  • "'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.' "'Which dealer's?'

  • "'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.' "'But was there another with a barred

  • tail?'

  • I asked, 'the same as the one I chose?' "'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed

  • ones, and I could never tell them apart.'

  • "Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me

  • to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he

  • tell me as to where they had gone.

  • You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like that.

  • My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself.

  • And now--and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the

  • wealth for which I sold my character. God help me!

  • God help me!"

  • He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.

  • There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured

  • tapping of Sherlock Holmes' finger-tips upon the edge of the table.

  • Then my friend rose and threw open the door.

  • "Get out!" said he. "What, sir!

  • Oh, Heaven bless you!"

  • "No more words. Get out!"

  • And no more words were needed.

  • There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp

  • rattle of running footfalls from the street.

  • "After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, "I am not

  • retained by the police to supply their deficiencies.

  • If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not

  • appear against him, and the case must collapse.

  • I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a

  • soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is

  • too terribly frightened.

  • Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life.

  • Besides, it is the season of forgiveness.

  • Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is

  • its own reward.

  • If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another

  • investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature."

  • >

  • THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

  • Adventure VIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND

  • On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last

  • eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic,

  • some comic, a large number merely strange,

  • but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for

  • the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation

  • which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic.

  • Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more

  • singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey

  • family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.

  • The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes,

  • when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street.

  • It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of

  • secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month

  • by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given.

  • It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to

  • know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which

  • tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.

  • It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes

  • standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed.

  • He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it

  • was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a

  • little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

  • "Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning.

  • Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you."

  • "What is it, then--a fire?" "No; a client.

  • It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who

  • insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room.

  • Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and

  • knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing

  • which they have to communicate.

  • Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it

  • from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call

  • you and give you the chance."

  • "My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything."

  • I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations,

  • and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded

  • on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him.

  • I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend

  • down to the sitting-room.

  • A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as

  • we entered. "Good-morning, madam," said Holmes

  • cheerily.

  • "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate,

  • Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself.

  • Ha!

  • I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire.

  • Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you

  • are shivering."

  • "It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a low voice, changing her

  • seat as requested. "What, then?"

  • "It is fear, Mr. Holmes.

  • It is terror."

  • She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable

  • state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like

  • those of some hunted animal.

  • Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with

  • premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard.

  • Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances.

  • "You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm.

  • "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt.

  • You have come in by train this morning, I see."

  • "You know me, then?"

  • "No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left

  • glove.

  • You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy

  • roads, before you reached the station." The lady gave a violent start and stared in

  • bewilderment at my companion.

  • "There is no mystery, my dear madam," said he, smiling.

  • "The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places.

  • The marks are perfectly fresh.

  • There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only

  • when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver."

  • "Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct," said she.

  • "I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by

  • the first train to Waterloo.

  • Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues.

  • I have no one to turn to--none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow,

  • can be of little aid.

  • I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you

  • helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address.

  • Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little

  • light through the dense darkness which surrounds me?

  • At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or

  • six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least

  • you shall not find me ungrateful."

  • Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he

  • consulted. "Farintosh," said he.

  • "Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara.

  • I think it was before your time, Watson.

  • I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case

  • as I did to that of your friend.

  • As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray

  • whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best.

  • And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an

  • opinion upon the matter."

  • "Alas!" replied our visitor, "the very horror of my situation lies in the fact

  • that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small

  • points, which might seem trivial to

  • another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice

  • looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman.

  • He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes.

  • But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of

  • the human heart.

  • You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me."

  • "I am all attention, madam."

  • "My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last

  • survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke

  • Moran, on the western border of Surrey."

  • Holmes nodded his head. "The name is familiar to me," said he.

  • "The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates

  • extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west.

  • In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and

  • wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in

  • the days of the Regency.

  • Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house,

  • which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage.

  • The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an

  • aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt

  • himself to the new conditions, obtained an

  • advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to

  • Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established

  • a large practice.

  • In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the

  • house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence.

  • As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to

  • England a morose and disappointed man.

  • "When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of

  • Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery.

  • My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my

  • mother's re-marriage.

  • She had a considerable sum of money--not less than 1000 pounds a year--and this she

  • bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a

  • certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage.

  • Shortly after our return to England my mother died--she was killed eight years ago

  • in a railway accident near Crewe.

  • Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and

  • took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran.

  • The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed

  • to be no obstacle to our happiness. "But a terrible change came over our

  • stepfather about this time.

  • Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at

  • first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he

  • shut himself up in his house and seldom

  • came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path.

  • Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family,

  • and in my stepfather's case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long

  • residence in the tropics.

  • A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court,

  • until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his

  • approach, for he is a man of immense

  • strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger.

  • "Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was

  • only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to

  • avert another public exposure.

  • He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these vagabonds

  • leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which represent the

  • family estate, and would accept in return

  • the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end.

  • He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a

  • correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely

  • over his grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master.

  • "You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great

  • pleasure in our lives.

  • No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house.

  • She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun

  • to whiten, even as mine has."

  • "Your sister is dead, then?" "She died just two years ago, and it is of

  • her death that I wish to speak to you.

  • You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little

  • likely to see anyone of our own age and position.

  • We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who

  • lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady's

  • house.

  • Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of

  • marines, to whom she became engaged.

  • My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no

  • objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed

  • for the wedding, the terrible event

  • occurred which has deprived me of my only companion."

  • Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head

  • sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor.

  • "Pray be precise as to details," said he.

  • "It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into

  • my memory.

  • The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now

  • inhabited.

  • The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the

  • central block of the buildings.

  • Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the

  • third my own. There is no communication between them, but

  • they all open out into the same corridor.

  • Do I make myself plain?" "Perfectly so."

  • "The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn.

  • That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had

  • not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian

  • cigars which it was his custom to smoke.

  • She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting

  • about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but

  • she paused at the door and looked back.

  • "'Tell me, Helen,' said she, 'have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the

  • night?' "'Never,' said I.

  • "'I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?'

  • "'Certainly not. But why?'

  • "'Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a

  • low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened

  • me.

  • I cannot tell where it came from--perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn.

  • I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.'

  • "'No, I have not.

  • It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.'

  • "'Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder

  • that you did not hear it also.'

  • "'Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.' "'Well, it is of no great consequence, at

  • any rate.'

  • She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in

  • the lock." "Indeed," said Holmes.

  • "Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?"

  • "Always." "And why?"

  • "I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon.

  • We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked."

  • "Quite so.

  • Pray proceed with your statement." "I could not sleep that night.

  • A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me.

  • My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the

  • links which bind two souls which are so closely allied.

  • It was a wild night.

  • The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the

  • windows.

  • Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a

  • terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister's voice.

  • I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor.

  • As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a

  • few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen.

  • As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its

  • hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing

  • what was about to issue from it.

  • By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face

  • blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro

  • like that of a drunkard.

  • I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give

  • way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain,

  • and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed.

  • At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she

  • suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God!

  • Helen!

  • It was the band! The speckled band!'

  • There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her

  • finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion

  • seized her and choked her words.

  • I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from

  • his room in his dressing-gown.

  • When he reached my sister's side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy

  • down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain,

  • for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness.

  • Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister."

  • "One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound?

  • Could you swear to it?" "That was what the county coroner asked me

  • at the inquiry.

  • It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and

  • the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived."

  • "Was your sister dressed?"

  • "No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred

  • stump of a match, and in her left a match- box."

  • "Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place.

  • That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come

  • to?"

  • "He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been

  • notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death.

  • My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the

  • windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were

  • secured every night.

  • The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the

  • flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result.

  • The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples.

  • It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end.

  • Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her."

  • "How about poison?" "The doctors examined her for it, but

  • without success."

  • "What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?"

  • "It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that

  • frightened her I cannot imagine."

  • "Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?"

  • "Yes, there are nearly always some there." "Ah, and what did you gather from this

  • allusion to a band--a speckled band?"

  • "Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes

  • that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in

  • the plantation.

  • I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear

  • over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used."

  • Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.

  • "These are very deep waters," said he; "pray go on with your narrative."

  • "Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than

  • ever.

  • A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the

  • honour to ask my hand in marriage.

  • His name is Armitage--Percy Armitage--the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water,

  • near Reading.

  • My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the

  • course of the spring.

  • Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my

  • bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which

  • my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept.

  • Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over

  • her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which

  • had been the herald of her own death.

  • I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room.

  • I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it

  • was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and

  • drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have

  • come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice."

  • "You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me all?"

  • "Yes, all."

  • "Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather."

  • "Why, what do you mean?"

  • For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay

  • upon our visitor's knee.

  • Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the

  • white wrist. "You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.

  • The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist.

  • "He is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength."

  • There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and

  • stared into the crackling fire. "This is a very deep business," he said at

  • last.

  • "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon

  • our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose.

  • If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over

  • these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?"

  • "As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important

  • business.

  • It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to

  • disturb you.

  • We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out

  • of the way." "Excellent.

  • You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"

  • "By no means." "Then we shall both come.

  • What are you going to do yourself?" "I have one or two things which I would

  • wish to do now that I am in town.

  • But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your

  • coming." "And you may expect us early in the

  • afternoon.

  • I have myself some small business matters to attend to.

  • Will you not wait and breakfast?" "No, I must go.

  • My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you.

  • I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon."

  • She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room.

  • "And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his

  • chair.

  • "It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."

  • "Dark enough and sinister enough."

  • "Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that

  • the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been

  • undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end."

  • "What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar

  • words of the dying woman?"

  • "I cannot think."

  • "When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies

  • who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason

  • to believe that the doctor has an interest

  • in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally,

  • the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been

  • caused by one of those metal bars that

  • secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to

  • think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines."

  • "But what, then, did the gipsies do?"

  • "I cannot imagine." "I see many objections to any such theory."

  • "And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are

  • going to Stoke Moran this day.

  • I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away.

  • But what in the name of the devil!"

  • The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had

  • been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture.

  • His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural,

  • having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-

  • crop swinging in his hand.

  • So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and

  • his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side.

  • A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and

  • marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his

  • deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high,

  • thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.

  • "Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition.

  • "My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly.

  • "I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

  • "Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly.

  • "Pray take a seat." "I will do nothing of the kind.

  • My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her.

  • What has she been saying to you?"

  • "It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

  • "What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously.

  • "But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion

  • imperturbably. "Ha!

  • You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking

  • his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel!

  • I have heard of you before.

  • You are Holmes, the meddler." My friend smiled.

  • "Holmes, the busybody!" His smile broadened.

  • "Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

  • Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining,"

  • said he. "When you go out close the door, for there

  • is a decided draught."

  • "I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs.

  • I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her!

  • I am a dangerous man to fall foul of!

  • See here." He stepped swiftly forward, seized the

  • poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

  • "See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling the twisted

  • poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

  • "He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing.

  • "I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my

  • grip was not much more feeble than his own."

  • As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it

  • out again. "Fancy his having the insolence to confound

  • me with the official detective force!

  • This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust

  • that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to

  • trace her.

  • And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to

  • Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter."

  • It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion.

  • He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures.

  • "I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he.

  • "To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of

  • the investments with which it is concerned.

  • The total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little short of 1100

  • pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750

  • pounds.

  • Each daughter can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage.

  • It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have

  • had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent.

  • My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very

  • strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort.

  • And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is

  • aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall

  • call a cab and drive to Waterloo.

  • I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket.

  • An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers

  • into knots.

  • That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."

  • At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a

  • trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey

  • lanes.

  • It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens.

  • The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and

  • the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth.

  • To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and

  • this sinister quest upon which we were engaged.

  • My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over

  • his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought.

  • Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

  • "Look there!" said he.

  • A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at

  • the highest point.

  • From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very

  • old mansion. "Stoke Moran?" said he.

  • "Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the driver.

  • "There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are going."

  • "There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some

  • distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to

  • get over this stile, and so by the foot- path over the fields.

  • There it is, where the lady is walking." "And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,"

  • observed Holmes, shading his eyes.

  • "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest."

  • We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.

  • "I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this fellow should

  • think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business.

  • It may stop his gossip.

  • Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our

  • word."

  • Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke

  • her joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for you,"

  • she cried, shaking hands with us warmly.

  • "All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is

  • unlikely that he will be back before evening."

  • "We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and in

  • a few words he sketched out what had occurred.

  • Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened.

  • "Good heavens!" she cried, "he has followed me, then."

  • "So it appears."

  • "He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him.

  • What will he say when he returns?"

  • "He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than

  • himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-

  • night.

  • If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow.

  • Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms

  • which we are to examine."

  • The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two

  • curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side.

  • In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards,

  • while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin.

  • The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was

  • comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up

  • from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided.

  • Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been

  • broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit.

  • Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill- trimmed lawn and examined with deep

  • attention the outsides of the windows.

  • "This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to

  • your sister's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?"

  • "Exactly so.

  • But I am now sleeping in the middle one." "Pending the alterations, as I understand.

  • By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end

  • wall."

  • "There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me

  • from my room." "Ah! that is suggestive.

  • Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three

  • rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?"

  • "Yes, but very small ones.

  • Too narrow for anyone to pass through." "As you both locked your doors at night,

  • your rooms were unapproachable from that side.

  • Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?"

  • Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open

  • window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success.

  • There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar.

  • Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly

  • into the massive masonry.

  • "Hum!" said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents

  • some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they

  • were bolted.

  • Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter."

  • A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms

  • opened.

  • Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the

  • second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met

  • with her fate.

  • It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the

  • fashion of old country-houses.

  • A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in

  • another, and a dressing-table on the left- hand side of the window.

  • These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the

  • room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre.

  • The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old

  • and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house.

  • Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled

  • round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.

  • "Where does that bell communicate with?" he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope

  • which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow.

  • "It goes to the housekeeper's room."

  • "It looks newer than the other things?" "Yes, it was only put there a couple of

  • years ago." "Your sister asked for it, I suppose?"

  • "No, I never heard of her using it.

  • We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves."

  • "Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there.

  • You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor."

  • He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly

  • backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards.

  • Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled.

  • Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running

  • his eye up and down the wall.

  • Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.

  • "Why, it's a dummy," said he. "Won't it ring?"

  • "No, it is not even attached to a wire.

  • This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a

  • hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is."

  • "How very absurd!

  • I never noticed that before." "Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at

  • the rope. "There are one or two very singular points

  • about this room.

  • For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room,

  • when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!"

  • "That is also quite modern," said the lady.

  • "Done about the same time as the bell- rope?" remarked Holmes.

  • "Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time."

  • "They seem to have been of a most interesting character--dummy bell-ropes,

  • and ventilators which do not ventilate.

  • With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner

  • apartment."

  • Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as

  • plainly furnished.

  • A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an

  • armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and

  • a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye.

  • Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest

  • interest.

  • "What's in here?" he asked, tapping the safe.

  • "My stepfather's business papers." "Oh! you have seen inside, then?"

  • "Only once, some years ago.

  • I remember that it was full of papers." "There isn't a cat in it, for example?"

  • "No. What a strange idea!" "Well, look at this!"

  • He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.

  • "No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon."

  • "Ah, yes, of course!

  • Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in

  • satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to

  • determine."

  • He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the

  • greatest attention. "Thank you.

  • That is quite settled," said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket.

  • "Hullo! Here is something interesting!"

  • The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the

  • bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself

  • and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.

  • "What do you make of that, Watson?" "It's a common enough lash.

  • But I don't know why it should be tied." "That is not quite so common, is it?

  • Ah, me! it's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is

  • the worst of all.

  • I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall

  • walk out upon the lawn."

  • I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we

  • turned from the scene of this investigation.

  • We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking

  • to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie.

  • "It is very essential, Miss Stoner," said he, "that you should absolutely follow my

  • advice in every respect." "I shall most certainly do so."

  • "The matter is too serious for any hesitation.

  • Your life may depend upon your compliance." "I assure you that I am in your hands."

  • "In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room."

  • Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

  • "Yes, it must be so.

  • Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over

  • there?" "Yes, that is the Crown."

  • "Very good.

  • Your windows would be visible from there?" "Certainly."

  • "You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your

  • stepfather comes back.

  • Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your

  • window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw

  • quietly with everything which you are

  • likely to want into the room which you used to occupy.

  • I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one

  • night."

  • "Oh, yes, easily." "The rest you will leave in our hands."

  • "But what will you do?"

  • "We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this

  • noise which has disturbed you."

  • "I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind," said Miss

  • Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve.

  • "Perhaps I have."

  • "Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's death."

  • "I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak."

  • "You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from

  • some sudden fright." "No, I do not think so.

  • I think that there was probably some more tangible cause.

  • And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our

  • journey would be in vain.

  • Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured

  • that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you."

  • Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the

  • Crown Inn.

  • They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the

  • avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House.

  • At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the

  • little figure of the lad who drove him.

  • The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard

  • the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his

  • clinched fists at him.

  • The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the

  • trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

  • "Do you know, Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, "I

  • have really some scruples as to taking you to-night.

  • There is a distinct element of danger."

  • "Can I be of assistance?" "Your presence might be invaluable."

  • "Then I shall certainly come." "It is very kind of you."

  • "You speak of danger.

  • You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me."

  • "No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more.

  • I imagine that you saw all that I did."

  • "I saw nothing remarkable save the bell- rope, and what purpose that could answer I

  • confess is more than I can imagine." "You saw the ventilator, too?"

  • "Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening

  • between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly

  • pass through."

  • "I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran."

  • "My dear Holmes!" "Oh, yes, I did.

  • You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar.

  • Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the

  • two rooms.

  • It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner's

  • inquiry. I deduced a ventilator."

  • "But what harm can there be in that?"

  • "Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates.

  • A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies.

  • Does not that strike you?"

  • "I cannot as yet see any connection." "Did you observe anything very peculiar

  • about that bed?" "No."

  • "It was clamped to the floor.

  • Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?"

  • "I cannot say that I have." "The lady could not move her bed.

  • It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope-

  • -or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull."

  • "Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at.

  • We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime."

  • "Subtle enough and horrible enough.

  • When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals.

  • He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads

  • of their profession.

  • This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike

  • deeper still.

  • But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake let us

  • have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful."

  • About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in

  • the direction of the Manor House.

  • Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a

  • single bright light shone out right in front of us.

  • "That is our signal," said Holmes, springing to his feet; "it comes from the

  • middle window."

  • As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were

  • going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might

  • spend the night there.

  • A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces,

  • and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our

  • sombre errand.

  • There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in

  • the old park wall.

  • Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to

  • enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what

  • seemed to be a hideous and distorted child,

  • who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across

  • the lawn into the darkness. "My God!"

  • I whispered; "did you see it?"

  • Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist

  • in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his

  • lips to my ear.

  • "It is a nice household," he murmured. "That is the baboon."

  • I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected.

  • There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment.

  • I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example and

  • slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom.

  • My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table,

  • and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime.

  • Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again

  • so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words:

  • "The least sound would be fatal to our plans."

  • I nodded to show that I had heard. "We must sit without light.

  • He would see it through the ventilator."

  • I nodded again. "Do not go asleep; your very life may

  • depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should

  • need it.

  • I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair."

  • I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

  • Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him.

  • By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle.

  • Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

  • How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil?

  • I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my

  • companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension

  • in which I was myself.

  • The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness.

  • From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a

  • long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty.

  • Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every

  • quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters!

  • Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for

  • whatever might befall.

  • Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the

  • ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning

  • oil and heated metal.

  • Someone in the next room had lit a dark- lantern.

  • I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the

  • smell grew stronger.

  • For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible-

  • -a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping

  • continually from a kettle.

  • The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed

  • furiously with his cane at the bell-pull. "You see it, Watson?" he yelled.

  • "You see it?"

  • But I saw nothing.

  • At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the

  • sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it

  • was at which my friend lashed so savagely.

  • I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and

  • loathing.

  • He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke

  • from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened.

  • It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled

  • in the one dreadful shriek.

  • They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry

  • raised the sleepers from their beds.

  • It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the

  • last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.

  • "What can it mean?"

  • I gasped. "It means that it is all over," Holmes

  • answered. "And perhaps, after all, it is for the

  • best.

  • Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room."

  • With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor.

  • Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within.

  • Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my

  • hand.

  • It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the

  • shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door

  • of which was ajar.

  • Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey

  • dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red

  • heelless Turkish slippers.

  • Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the

  • day.

  • His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at

  • the corner of the ceiling.

  • Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed

  • to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor

  • motion.

  • "The band! the speckled band!" whispered Holmes.

  • I took a step forward.

  • In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among

  • his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.

  • "It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India.

  • He has died within ten seconds of being bitten.

  • Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit

  • which he digs for another.

  • Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to

  • some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened."

  • As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the

  • noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at

  • arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it.

  • Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.

  • It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too

  • great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we

  • conveyed her by the morning train to the

  • care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to

  • the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous

  • pet.

  • The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we

  • travelled back next day.

  • "I had," said he, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear

  • Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.

  • The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by the poor

  • girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of

  • by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent.

  • I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it

  • became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could

  • not come either from the window or the door.

  • My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this

  • ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed.

  • The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor,

  • instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for

  • something passing through the hole and coming to the bed.

  • The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge

  • that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was

  • probably on the right track.

  • The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any

  • chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had

  • had an Eastern training.

  • The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of

  • view, be an advantage.

  • It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark

  • punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work.

  • Then I thought of the whistle.

  • Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the

  • victim.

  • He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him

  • when summoned.

  • He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the

  • certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed.

  • It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a

  • week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim.

  • "I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room.

  • An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it,

  • which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator.

  • The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to

  • finally dispel any doubts which may have remained.

  • The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily

  • closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant.

  • Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the

  • matter to the proof.

  • I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly

  • lit the light and attacked it." "With the result of driving it through the

  • ventilator."

  • "And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side.

  • Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew

  • upon the first person it saw.

  • In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's

  • death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience."

  • >

THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

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