Ewriting Format by Carl Peterson © 2001

A Scandal in Bohemia
The Red-headed League
A Case of Identity
The Boscombe Valley Mystery
The Five Orange Pips
The Man with the Twisted Lip
The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
The Adventure of the Speckled Band
The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb
The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor
The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet
The Adventure of the Copper Beeches


ADVENTURE I.

A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
I.
to Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman.

I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name.

In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.

It was not that he felt any emotion akin
to love
for Irene Adler.

All emotions,
and that one particularly,
were abhorrent
to his cold,
precise but admirably balanced mind.

He was,
I take it,
the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen,
but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position.

He never spoke of the softer passions,
save
with a gibe and a sneer.

They were admirable things
for the observer--excellent
for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions.

But
for the trained teasoner
to admit such intrusions in
to his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was
to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results.

Grit in a sensitive instrument,
or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses,
would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his.

And yet there was but one woman
to him,
and that woman was the late Irene Adler,
of dubious and questionable memory.I had seen little of Holmes lately.

My marriage had drifted us away from each other.

My own complete happiness,
and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment,
were sufficient
to absorb all my attention,
while Holmes,
who loathed every form of society
with his whole Bohemian soul,
remained in our lodgings in Baker Street,
buried among his old books,
and alternating from week
to week between cocaine and ambition,
the drowsiness of the drug,
and the fierce energy of his own keen nature.

He was still,
as ever,
deeply attracted by the study of crime,
and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clews,
and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police.

From time
to time I heard some vague account of his doings:

of his summons
to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder,
of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee,
and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully
for the reigning family of Holland.

Beyond these signs of his activity,
however,
which I merely shared
with all the readers of the daily press,
I knew little of my former friend and companion.One night--it was on the twentieth of March,
1888--I was returning from a journey
to a patient (
for I had now returned
to civil practice),
when my way led me through Baker Street.

As I passed the well-remembered door,
which must always be associated in my mind
with my wooing,
and
with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet,
I was seized
with a keen desire
to see Holmes again,
and
to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers.

His rooms were brilliantly lit,
and,
even as I looked up,
I saw his tall,
spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind.

He was pacing the room swiftly,
eagerly,

with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him.


to me,
who knew his every mood and habit,
his attitude and manner told their own story.

He was at work again.

He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem.

I rang the bell and was shown up
to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.His manner was not effusive.

It seldom was;
but he was glad,
I think,

to see me.


with hardly a word spoken,
but
with a kindly eye,
he waved me
to an armchair,
threw across his case of cigars,
and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner.

Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion."

Wedlock suits you," he remarked.

"I think,
Watson,
that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."


"Seven!" I answered."

Indeed,
I should have thought a little more.

Just a trifle more,
I fancy,
Watson.

And in practice again,
I observe.

You did not tell me that you intended
to go in
to harness."


"Then,
how do you know?"


"I see it,
I deduce it.

How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately,
and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?"


"My dear Holmes," said I,
"this is too much.

You would certainly have been burned,
had you lived a few centuries ago.

It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess,
but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it.

As
to Mary Jane,
she is incorrigible,
and my wife has given her notice,
but there,
again,
I fail
to see how you work it out."


He chuckled
to himself and rubbed his long,
nervous hands together."

It is simplicity itself," said he;
"my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe,
just where the firelight strikes it,
the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts.

Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order
to remove crusted mud from it.

Hence,
you see,
my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather,
and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey.

As
to your practice,
if a gentleman walks in
to my rooms smelling of iodoform,

with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger,
and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat
to show where he has secreted his stethoscope,
I must be dull,
indeed,
if I do not pronounce him
to be an active member of the medical profession."


I could not help laughing at the ease
with which he explained his process of deduction.

"When I hear you give your reasons," I remarked,
"the thing always appears
to me
to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself,
though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process.

And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours."


"Quite so," he answered,
lighting a cigarette,
and throwing himself down in
to an armchair.

"You see,
but you do not observe.

The distinction is clear.


for example,
you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall
to this room."


"Frequently."


"How often?"


"Well,
some hundreds of times."


"Then how many are there?"


"How many?

I don't know."


"Quite so!

You have not observed.

And yet you have seen.

That is just my point.

Now,
I know that there are seventeen steps,
because I have both seen and observed.

By-the-way,
since you are interested in these little problems,
and since you are good enough
to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences,
you may be interested in this."

He threw over a sheet of thick,
pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying open upon the table.

"It came by the last post," said he.

"Read it aloud."


The note was undated,
and without either signature or address."

There will call upon you to-night,
at a quarter
to eight o'clock," it said,
"a gentleman who desires
to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment.

Your recent services
to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted
with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated.

This account of you we have from all quarters received.

Be in your chamber then at that hour,
and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask."

This is indeed a mystery," I remarked.

"What do you imagine that it means?"


"I have no data yet.

It is a capital mistake
to theorize before one has data.

Insensibly one begins
to twist facts
to suit theories,
instead of theories
to suit facts.

But the note itself.

What do you deduce from it?"


I carefully examined the writing,
and the paper upon which it was written."

The man who wrote it was presumably well
to do," I remarked,
endeavoring
to imitate my companion's processes.

"Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet.

It is peculiarly strong and stiff."


"Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes.

"It is not an English paper at all.

Hold it up
to the light."


I did so,
and saw a large "E"
with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G"
with a small "t" woven in
to the texture of the paper."

What do you make of that?"

asked Holmes."

The name of the maker,
no doubt;
or his monogram,
rather."


"Not at all.

The 'G'
with the small 't' stands
for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German
for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course,
stands
for 'Papier.' Now
for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer."

He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves.

"Eglow,
Eglonitz--here we are,
Egria.

It is in a German-speaking country--in Bohemia,
not far from Carlsbad.

'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein,
and
for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha,
ha,
my boy,
what do you make of that?"

His eyes sparkled,
and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette."

The paper was made in Bohemia," I said."

Precisely.

And the man who wrote the note is a German.

Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that.

It is the German who is so uncourteous
to his verbs.

It only remains,
therefore,

to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask
to showing his face.

And here he comes,
if I am not mistaken,

to resolve all our doubts."


As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb,
followed by a sharp pull at the bell.

Holmes whistled."

A pair,
by the sound," said he.

"Yes," he continued,
glancing out of the window.

"A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties.

A hundred and fifty guineas apiece.

There's money in this case,
Watson,
if there is nothing else."


"I think that I had better go,
Holmes."


"Not a bit,
Doctor.

Stay where you are.

I am lost without my Boswell.

And this promises
to be interesting.

It would be a pity
to miss it."


"But your client--"
"Never mind him.

I may want your help,
and so may he.

Here he comes.

Sit down in that armchair,
Doctor,
and give us your best attention."


A slow and heavy step,
which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage,
paused immediately outside the door.

Then there was a loud and authoritative tap."

Come in!" said Holmes.A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height,

with the chest and limbs of a Hercules.

His dress was rich
with a richness which would,
in England,
be looked upon as akin
to bad taste.

Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat,
while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined
with flame-colored silk and secured at the neck
with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl.

Boots which extended halfway up his calves,
and which were trimmed at the tops
with rich brown fur,
completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance.

He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand,
while he wore across the upper part of his face,
extending down past the cheekbones,
a black vizard mask,
which he had apparently adjusted that very moment,

for his hand was still raised
to it as he entered.

From the lower part of the face he appeared
to be a man of strong character,

with a thick,
hanging lip,
and a long,
straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed
to the length of obstinacy."

You had my note?"

he asked
with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent.

"I told you that I would call."

He looked from one
to the other of us,
as if uncertain which
to address."

Pray take a seat," said Holmes.

"This is my friend and colleague,
Dr. Watson,
who is occasionally good enough
to help me in my cases.

Whom have I the honor
to address?"


"You may address me as the Count Von Kramm,
a Bohemian nobleman.

I understand that this gentleman,
your friend,
is a man of honor and discretion,
whom I may trust
with a matter of the most extreme importance.

If not,
I should much prefer
to communicate
with you alone."


I rose
to go,
but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back in
to my chair.

"It is both,
or none," said he.

"You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say
to me."


The Count shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Then I must begin," said he,
"by binding you both
to absolute secrecy
for two years;
at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance.

At present it is not too much
to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history."


"I promise," said Holmes."

And I."


"You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor.

"The august person who employs me wishes his agent
to be unknown
to you,
and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own."


"I was aware of it," said Holmes drily."

The circumstances are of great delicacy,
and every precaution has
to be taken
to quench what might grow
to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe.


to speak plainly,
the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein,
hereditary kings of Bohemia."


"I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes,
settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes.Our visitor glanced
with some apparent surprise at the languid,
lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted
to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe.

Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client."

If your Majesty would condescend
to state your case," he remarked,
"I should be better able
to advise you."


The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation.

Then,

with a gesture of desperation,
he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground.

"You are right," he cried;
"I am the King.

Why should I attempt
to conceal it?"


"Why,
indeed?"

murmured Holmes.

"Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein,
Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein,
and hereditary King of Bohemia."


"But you can understand," said our strange visitor,
sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead,
"you can understand that I am not accustomed
to doing such business in my own person.

Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it
to an agent without putting myself in his power.

I have come incogni
to from Prague
for the purpose of consulting you."


"Then,
pray consult," said Holmes,
shutting his eyes once more."

The facts are briefly these:

Some five years ago,
during a lengthy visit
to Warsaw,
I made the acquaintance of the wellknown adventuress,
Irene Adler.

The name is no doubt farmiliar
to you."


"Kindly look her up in my index,
Doctor," murmured Holmes without opening his eyes.


for many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things,
so that it was difficult
to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information.

In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes."

Let me see!" said Holmes.

"Hum!

Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.

Contralto--hum!

La Scala,
hum!

Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw--yes!

Retired from operatic stage--ha!

Living in London--quite so!

Your Majesty,
as I understand,
became entangled
with this young person,
wrote her some compromising letters,
and is now desirous of getting those letters back."


"Precisely so.

But how--"
"Was there a secret marriage?"


"None."


"No legal papers or certificates?"


"None."


"Then I fail
to follow your Majesty.

If this young person should produce her letters
for blackmailing or other purposes,
how is she
to prove their authenticity?"


"There is the writing."


"Pooh,
pooh!

Forgery."


"My private note-paper."


"Stolen."


"My own seal."


"Imitated."


"My photograph."


"Bought."


"We were both in the photograph."


"Oh,
dear!

That is very bad!

Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion."


"I was mad--insane."


"You have compromised yourself seriously."


"I was only Crown Prince then.

I was young.

I am but thirty now."


"It must be recovered."


"We have tried and failed."


"Your Majesty must pay.

It must be bought."


"She will not sell."


"Stolen,
then."


"Five attempts have been made.

Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house.

Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled.

Twice she has been waylaid.

There has been no result."


"No sign of it?"


"Absolutely none."


Holmes laughed.

"It is quite a pretty little problem," said he."

But a very serious one
to me," returned the King reproachfully."

Very,
indeed.

And what does she propose
to do
with the photograph?"


"
to ruin me."


"But how?"


"I am about
to be married."


"So I have heard."


"
to Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen,
second daughter of the King of Scandinavia.

You may know the stnct principles of her family.

She is herself the very soul of delicacy.

A shadow of a doubt as
to my conduct would bring the matter
to an end."


"And Irene Adler?"


"Threatens
to send them the photograph.

And she will do it.

I know that she will do it.

You do not know her,
but she has a soul of steel.

She has the face of the most beautiful of women,
and the mind of the most resolute of men.

Rather than I should marry another woman,
there are no lengths
to which she would not go--none."


"You are sure that she has not sent it yet?"


"I am sure."


"And why?"


"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed.

That will be next Monday."


"Oh,
then we have three days yet," said Holmes
with a yawn.

"That is very fortunate,
as I have one or two matters of importance
to look in
to just at present.

Your Majesty will,
of course,
stay in London
for the present?"


"Certainly.

You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm."


"Then I shall drop you a line
to let you know how we progress."


"Pray do so.

I shall be all anxiety."


"Then,
as
to money?"


"You have carte blanche."


"Absolutely?"


"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom
to have that photograph."


"And
for present expenses?"


The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table."

There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," he said.Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it
to him."

And Mademoiselle's address?"

he asked."

Is Briony Lodge,
Serpentine Avenue,
St.

John's Wood."


Holmes took a note of it.

"One other question," said he.

"Was the photograph a cabinet?"


"It was."


"Then,
good-night,
your Majesty,
and I trust that we shall soon have some good news
for you.

And good-night,
Watson," he added,
as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street.

"If you wlll be good enough
to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like
to chat this little matter over
with you."


II.At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street,
but Holmes had not yet returned.

The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning.

I sat down beside the fire,
however,

with the intention of awaiting him,
however long he might be.

I was already deeply interested in his inquiry,
for,
though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated
with the two crimes which I have already recorded,
still,
the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own.

Indeed,
apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand,
there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation,
and his keen,
incisive reasoning,
which made it a pleasure
to me
to study his system of work,
and
to follow the quick,
subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries.

So accustomed was I
to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased
to enter in
to my head.It was close upon four before the door opened,
and a drunkenlooking groom,
ill-kempt and side-whiskered,

with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes,
walked in
to the room.

Accustomed as I was
to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises,
I had
to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he.


with a nod he vanished in
to the bedroom,
whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable,
as of old.

Putting his hands in
to his pockets,
he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily
for some minutes."

Well,
really!" he cried,
and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged
to lie back,
limp and helpless,
in the chair."

What is it?"


"It's quite too funny.

I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning,
or what I ended by doing."


"I can't imagine.

I suppose that you have been watching the habits,
and perhaps the house,
of Miss Irene Adler."


"Quite so;
but the sequel was rather unusual.

I will tell you,
however.

I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work.

There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsy men.

Be one of them,
and you will know all that there is
to know.

I soon found Briony Lodge.

It is a bijou villa,

with a garden at the back.

but built out in front right up
to the road,
two stories.

Chubb lock
to the door.

Large sitting-room on the right side,
well furnished,

with long windows almost
to the floor,
and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open.

Behind there was nothing remarkable,
save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house.

I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view,
but without noting anything else of interest."

I then lounged down the street and found,
as I expected,
that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden.

I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses,
and received in exchange twopence,
a glass of half and half,
two fills of shag tobacco,
and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler,

to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighborhood in whom I was not in the least interested,
but whose biographies I was compelled
to listen to."


"And what of Irene Adler?"

I asked."

Oh,
she has turned all the men's heads down in that part.

She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet.

So say the Serpentine-mews,

to a man.

She lives quietly,
sings at concerts,
drives out at five every day,
and returns at seven sharp
for dinner.

Seldom goes out at other times,
except when she sings.

Has only one male visitor,
but a good deal of him.

He is dark,
handsome,
and dashing,
never calls less than once a day,
and often twice.

He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton,
of the Inner Temple.

See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant.

They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews,
and knew all about him.

When I had listened
to all they had
to tell,
I began
to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more,
and
to think over my plan of campaign."

This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter.

He was a lawyer.

That sounded ominous.

What was the relation between them,
and what the object of his repeated visits?

Was she his client,
his friend,
or his mistress?

If the former,
she had probably transferred the photograph
to his keeping.

If the latter,
it was less likely.

On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge,
or turn my attention
to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple.

It was a delicate point.

and it widened the field of my inquiry.

I fear that I bore you
with these details,
but I have
to let you see my little difficulties,
if you are
to understand the situation."


"I am following you closely," I answered."

I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up
to Briony Lodge,
and a gentleman sprang out.

He was a remarkably handsome man,
dark,
aquiline,
and moustached-- evidently the man of whom I had heard.

He appeared
to be in a great hurry,
shouted
to the cabman
to wait,
and brushed past the maid who opened the door
with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home."

He was in the house about half an hour,
and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room,
pacing up and down,
talking excitedly,
and waving his arMs. Of her I could see nothing.

Presently he emerged,
looking even more flurried than before.

As he stepped up
to the cab,
he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly,
'Drive like the devil,' he shouted,
'first
to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street,
and then
to the Church of St.

Monica in the Edgeware Road.

Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!'
"Away they went,
and I was just wondering whether I should not do well
to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau,
the coachman
with his coat only half-buttoned,
and his tie under his ear,
while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles.

It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and in
to it.

I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment,
but she was a lovely woman,

with a face that a man might die for."

'The Church of St.

Monica,
John,' she cried,
'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.'
"This was quite too good
to lose,
Watson.

I was just balancing whether I should run
for it,
or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street.

The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare,
but I jumped in before he could object.

'The Church of St.

Monica,' said I,
'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes
to twelve,
and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind."

My cabby drove fast.

I don't think I ever drove faster,
but the others were there before us.

The cab and the landau
with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived.

I paid the man and hurried in
to the church.

There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman,
who seemed
to be expostulating
with them.

They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar.

I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped in
to a church.

Suddenly,

to my surprise,
the three at the altar faced round
to me,
and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me."

Thank God," he cried.

"You'll do.

Come!

Come!"
"What then?"

I asked."

Come,
man,
come,
only three minutes,
or it won't be legal."


I was half-dragged up
to the altar,
and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear.

and vouching
for things of which I knew nothing,
and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler,
spinster,

to Godfrey Norton,
bachelor.

It was all done in an instant,
and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other,
while the clergyman beamed on me in front.

It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life,
and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now.

It seems that there had been some informality about their license,
that the clergyman absolutely refused
to marry them without a witness of some sort,
and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having
to sally out in
to the streets in search of a best man.

The bride gave me a sovereign,
and I mean
to wear it on my watch-chain in memory of the occasion."


"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I;
"and what then?"


"Well,
I found my plans very seriously menaced.

It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure,
and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part.

At the church door,
however,
they separated,
he driving back
to the Temple,
and she
to her own house.

'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him.

I heard no more.

They drove away in different directions,
and I went off
to make my own arrangements."


"Which are?"


"Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered,
ringing the bell.

"I have been too busy
to think of food,
and I am likely
to be busier still this evening.

By the way,
Doctor,
I shall want your cooperation."


"I shall be delighted."


"You don't mind breaking the law?"


"Not in the least."


"Nor running a chance of arrest?"


"Not in a good cause."


"Oh,
the cause is excellent!"
"Then I am your man."


"I was sure that I might rely on you."


"But what is it you wish?"


"When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear
to you.

Now," he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided,
"I must discuss it while I eat,

for I have not much time.

It is nearly five now.

In two hours we must be on the scene of action.

Miss Irene,
or Madame,
rather,
returns from her drive at seven.

We must be at Briony Lodge
to meet her."


"And what then?"


"You must leave that
to me.

I have already arranged what is
to occur.

There is only one point on which I must insist.

You must not interfere,
come what may.

You understand?"


"I am
to be neutral?"


"
to do nothing whatever.

There will probably be some small unpleasantness.

Do not join in it.

It will end in my being conveyed in
to the house.

Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open.

You are
to station yourself close
to that open window."


"Yes."


"You are
to watch me,

for I will be visible
to you."


"Yes."


"And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw in
to the room what I give you
to throw,
and will,
at the same time,
raise the cry of fire.

You quite follow me?"


"Entirely."


"It is nothing very formidable," he said,
taking a long cigar- shaped roll from his pocket.

"It is an ordinary plumber's smoke- rocket,
fitted
with a cap at either end
to make it self-lighting.

Your task is confined
to that.

When you raise your cry of fire,
it will be taken up by quite a number of people.

You may then walk
to the end of the street,
and I will rejoin you in ten minutes.

I hope that I have made myself clear?"


"I am
to remain neutral,

to get near the window,

to watch you,
and at the signal
to throw in this object,
then
to raise the cry of fire,
and
to wait you at the corner of the street."


"Precisely."


"Then you may entirely rely on me."


"That is excellent.

I think,
perhaps,
it is almost time that I prepare
for the new role I have
to play."


He disappeared in
to his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman.

His broad black hat,
his baggy trousers.

his white tie,
his sympathetic smile,
and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled.

It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume.

His expression,
his manner,
his very soul seemed
to vary
with every fresh part that he assumed.

The stage lost a fine actor,
even as science lost an acute reasoner,
when he became a specialist in crime.It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street,
and it still wanted ten minutes
to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue.

It was already dusk,
and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge,
waiting
for the coming of its occupant.

The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes's succinct description,
but the locality appeared
to be less private than I expected.

On the contrary,

for a small street in a quiet neighborhood,
it was remarkably animated.

There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner,
a scissors-grinder
with his wheel,
two guardsmen who were flirting
with a nurse-girl,
and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down
with cigars in their mouths."

You see," remarked Holmes,
as we paced
to and fro in front of the house,
"this marriage rather simplifies matters.

The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now.

The chances are that she would be as averse
to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton,
as our client is
to its coming
to the eyes of his princess.

Now the question is,
Where are we
to find the photograph?"


"Where,
indeed?"


"It is most unlikely that she carries it about
with her.

It is cabinet size.

Too large
for easy concealment about a woman's dress.

She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched.

Two attempts of the sort have already been made.

We may take it,
then,
that she does not carry it about
with her."


"Where,
then?"


"Her banker or her lawyer.

There is that double possibility.

But I am inclined
to think neither.

Women are naturally secretive,
and they like
to do their own secreting.

Why should she hand it over
to anyone else?

She could trust her own guardianship,
but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought
to bear upon a business man.

Besides,
remember that she had resolved
to use it within a few days.

It must be where she can lay her hands upon it.

It must be in her own house."


"But it has twice been burgled."


"Pshaw!

They did not know how
to look."


"But how will you look?"


"I will not look."


"What then?"


"I will get her
to show me."


"But she will refuse."


"She will not be able to.

But I hear the rumble of wheels.

It is hcr carriage.

Now carry out my orders
to the letter."


As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue.

It was a smart little landau which rattled up
to the door of Briony Lodge.

As it pulled up,
one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward
to open the door in the hope of earning a copper,
but was elbowed away by another loafer,
who had rushed up
with the same intention.

A fierce quarrel broke out,
which was increased by the two guardsmen,
who took sides
with one of the loungers,
and by the scissorsgrinder,
who was equally hot upon the other side.

A blow was struck,
and in an instant the lady,
who had stepped from her carriage,
was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men,
who struck savagely at each other
with their fists and sticks.

Holmes dashed in
to the crowd
to protect the lady;
but just as he reached her he gave a cry and dropped
to the ground,

with the blood running freely down his face.

At his fall the guardsmen took
to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other,
while a number of better-dressed people,
who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it,
crowded in
to help the lady and
to attend
to the injured man.

Irene Adler,
as I will still call her,
had hurried up the steps;
but she stood at the top
with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall,
looking back in
to the street."

Is the poor gentleman much hurt?"

she asked."

He is dead," cried several voices."

No,
no,
there's life in him!" shouted another.

"But he'll be gone before you can get him
to hospital."


"He's a brave fellow," said a woman.

"They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been
for him.

They were a gang,
and a rough one,
too.

Ah,
he's breathing now."


"He can't lie in the street.

May we bring him in,
marm?"


"Surely.

Bring him in
to the sitting-room.

There is a comfortable sofa.

This way,
please!"
Slowly and solemnly he was borne in
to Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room,
while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window.

The lamps had been lit,
but the blinds had not been drawn,
so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch.

I do not know whether he was seized
with compunction at that moment
for the part he was playing,
but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring,
or the grace and kindliness
with which she waited upon the injured man.

And yet it would be the blackest treachery
to Holmes
to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted
to me.

I hardened my heart,
and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster.

After all,
I thought,
we are not injuring her.

We are but preventing her from injuring another.Holmes had sat up upon the couch,
and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air.

A maid rushed across and threw open the window.

At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket in
to the room
with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators,
well dressed and ill--gentlemen,
ostlers,
and servant-maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window.

I caught a glimpse of rushing figures,
and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm.

Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way
to the corner of the street,
and in ten minutes was rejoiced
to find my friend's arm in mine,
and
to get away from the scene of uproar.

He walked swiftly and in silence
for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road."

You did it very nicely,
Doctor," he remarked.

"Nothing could have been better.

It is all right."


"You have the photograph?"


"I know where it is."


"And how did you find out?"


"She showed me,
as I told you she would."


"I am still in the dark."


"I do not wish
to make a mystery," said he,
laughing.

"The matter was perfectly simple.

You,
of course,
saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice.

They were all engaged
for the evening."


"I guessed as much."


"Then,
when the row broke out,
I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand.

I rushed forward,
fell down.

clapped my hand
to my face,
and became a piteous spectacle.

It is an old trick."


"That also I could fathom."


"Then they carried me in.

She was bound
to have me in.

What else could she do?

And in
to her sitting-room.

which was the very room which I suspected.

It lay between that and her bedroom,
and I was determined
to see which.

They laid me on a couch,
I motioned
for air,
they were compelled
to open the window.

and you had your chance."


"How did that help you?"


"It was all-important.

When a woman thinks that her house is on fire,
her instinct is at once
to rush
to the thing which she values most.

It is a perfectly overpowering impulse,
and I have more than once taken advantage of it.

In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use
to me,
and also in the Arnsworth Castle business.

A married woman grabs at her baby;
an unmarried one reaches
for her jewel-box.

Now it was clear
to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious
to her than what we are in quest of.

She would rush
to secure it.

The alarm of fire was admirably done.

The smoke and shouting were enough
to shake nerves of steel.

She responded beautifully.

The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull.

She was there in an instant,
and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out.

When I cried out that it was a false alarm,
she replaced it,
glanced at the rocket,
rushed from the room,
and I have not seen her since.

I rose,
and,
making my excuses,
escaped from the house.

I hesitated whether
to attempt
to secure the photograph at once;
but the coachman had come in,
and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer
to wait.

A little over-precipitance may ruin all."


"And now?"

I asked."

Our quest is practically finished.

I shall call
with the King to-morrow,
and
with you,
if you care
to come
with us.

We will be shown in
to the sitting-room
to wait
for the lady;
but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph.

It might be a satisfaction
to his Majesty
to regain it
with his own hands."


"And when will you call?"


"At eight in the morning.

She will not be up,
so that we shall have a clear field.

Besides,
we must be prompt,

for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits.

I must wire
to the King without delay."


We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door.

He was searching his pockets
for the key when someone passing said:
"Good-night,
Mister Sherlock Holmes."


There were several people on the pavement at the time,
but the greeting appeared
to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by."

I've heard that voice before," said Holmes,
staring down the dimly lit street.

"Now,
I wonder who the deuce that could have been."


III.I slept at Baker Street that night,
and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed in
to the room."

You have really got it!" he cried,
grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly in
to his face."

Not yet."


"But you have hopes?"


"I have hopes."


"Then,
come.

I am all impatience
to be gone."


"We must have a cab."


"No,
my brougham is waiting."


"Then that will simplify matters."

We descended and started off once more
for Briony Lodge."

Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes."

Married!

When?"


"Yesterday."


"But
to whom?"


"
to an English lawyer named Norton."


"But she could not love him."


"I am in hopes that she does."


"And why in hopes?"


"Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance.

If the lady loves her husband,
she does not love your Majesty.

If she does not love your Majesty,
there is no reason why she should interfere
with your Majesty's plan."


"It is true.

And yet--Well!

I wish she had been of my own station!

What a queen she would have made!" He relapsed in
to a moody silence,
which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue.The door of Briony Lodge was open,
and an elderly woman stood upon the steps.

She watched us
with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham."

Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
I believe?"

said she."

I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion,
looking at her
with a questioning and rather startled gaze."

Indeed!

My mistress told me that you were likely
to call.

She left this morning
with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross
for the Continent."


"What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back,
white
with chagrin and surprise.

"Do you mean that she has left England?"


"Never
to return."


"And the papers?"

asked the King hoarsely.

"All is lost."


"We shall see."

He pushed past the servant and rushed in
to the drawing-room,
followed by the King and myself.

The furniture was scattered about in every direction,

with dismantled shelves and open drawers,
as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight.

Holmes rushed at the bell-pull,
tore back a small sliding shutter,
and,
plunging in his hand,
pulled out a photograph and a letter.

The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress,
the letter was superscribed
to "Sherlock Holmes,
Esq.


to be left till called for."

My friend tore it open and we all three read it together.

It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way:
MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You really did it very well.

You took me in completely.

Until after the alarm of fire,
I had not a suspicion.

But then,
when I found how I had betrayed myself,
I began
to think.

I had been warned against you months ago.

I had been told that if the King employed an agent it would certainly be you.

And your address had been given me.

Yet,

with all this,
you made me reveal what you wanted
to know.

Even after I became suspicious,
I found it hard
to think evil of such a dear,
kind old clergyman.

But,
you know,
I have been trained as an actress myself.

Male costume is nothing new
to me.

I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives.

I sent John,
the coachman,

to watch you,
ran up stairs,
got in
to my walking-clothes,
as I call them,
and came down just as you departed.Well,
I followed you
to your door,
and so made sure that I was really an object of interest
to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Then I,
rather imprudently,
wished you good-night,
and started
for the Temple
to see my husband.

We both thought the best resource was flight,
when pursued by so formidable an antagonist;
so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow.

As
to the photograph,
your client may rest in peace.

I love and am loved by a better man than he.

The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged.

I keep it only
to safeguard myself,
and
to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future.

I leave a photograph which he might care
to possess;
and I remain,
dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
Very truly yours,
IRENE NORTON,
nee ADLER."

What a woman--oh,
what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia,
when we had all three read this epistle.

"Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was?

Would she not have made an admirable queen?

Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?"


"From what I have seen of the lady she seems indeed
to be on a very different level
to your Majesty," said Holmes coldly.

"I am sorry that I have not been able
to bring your Majesty's business
to a more successful conclusion."


"On the contrary,
my dear sir," cried the King;
"nothing could be more successful.

I know that her word is inviolate.

The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."


"I am glad
to hear your Majesty say so."


"I am immensely indebted
to you.

Pray tell me in what way I can reward you.

This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand."

Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Holmes."

You have but
to name it."


"This photograph!"
The King stared at him in amazement."

Irene's photograph!" he cried.

"Certainly,
if you wish it."


"I thank your Majesty.

Then there is no more
to be done in the matter.

I have the honor
to wish you a very good-morning."

He bowed,
and,
turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched out
to him,
he set off in my company
for his chambers.And that was how a great scandal threatened
to affect the kingdom of Bohemia,
and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit.

He used
to make merry over the cleverness of women,
but I have not heard him do it of late.

And when he speaks of Irene Adler,
or when he refers
to her photograph,
it is always under the honorable title of the woman.


ADVENTURE II.

THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE
I had called upon my friend,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
one day in the autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation
with a very stout,
florid-faced,
elderly gentleman
with fiery red hair.


with an apology
for my intrusion,
I was about
to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly in
to the room and closed the door behind me."

You could not possibly have come at a better time,
my dear Watson," he said cordially."

I was afraid that you were engaged."


"So I am.

Very much so."


"Then I can wait in the next room."


"Not at all.

This gentleman,
Mr. Wilson,
has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases,
and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use
to me in yours also."


The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting,

with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes."

Try the settee," said Holmes,
relapsing in
to his armchair and putting his fingertips together,
as was his custom when in judicial moods.

"I know,
my dear Watson,
that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life.

You have shown your relish
for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you
to chronicle,
and,
if you will excuse my saying so,
somewhat
to embellish so many of my own little adventures."


"Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest
to me," I observed."

You will remember that I remarked the other day,
just before we went in
to the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland,
that
for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go
to life itself,
which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination."


"A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting."


"You did,
Doctor,
but none the less you must come round
to my view,

for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me
to be right.

Now,
Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough
to call upon me this morning,
and
to begin a narrative which promises
to be one of the most singular which I have listened
to
for some time.

You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connected not
with the larger but
with the smaller crimes,
and occasionally,
indeed,
where there is room
for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed.

As far as I have heard it is impossible
for me
to say whether the present case is an instance of crime or not,
but the course of events is certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to.

Perhaps,
Mr. Wilson,
you would have the great kindness
to recommence your narrative.

I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious
to have every possible detail from your lips.

As a rule,
when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events,
I am able
to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur
to my memory.

In the present instance I am forced
to admit that the facts are,

to the best of my belief,
unique."


The portly client puffed out his chest
with an appearance of some little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his greatcoat.

As he glanced down the advertisement column,

with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee,
I took a good look at the man and endeavored,
after the fashion of my companion,

to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance.I did not gain very much,
however,
by my inspection.

Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman,
obese,
pompous,
and slow.

He wore rather baggy gray shepherd's check trousers,
a not over-clean black frock-coat,
unbuttoned in the front,
and a drab waistcoat
with a heavy brassy Albert chain,
and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament.

A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat
with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him.

Altogether,
look as I would,
there was nothing remarkable about the man save his blazing red head,
and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features.Sherlock Holmes's quick eye took in my occupation,
and he shook his head
with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances.

"Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour,
that he takes snuff,
that he is a Freemason,
that he has been in China,
and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately,
I can deduce nothing else."


Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair,

with his forefinger upon the paper,
but his eyes upon my companion."

How,
in the name of good-fortune,
did you know all that,
Mr. Holmes?"

he asked.

"How did you know,

for example,
that I did manual labour.

It's as true as gospel,

for I began as a ship's carpenter."


"Your hands,
my dear sir.

Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left.

You have worked
with it,
and the muscles are more developed."


"Well,
the snuff,
then,
and the Freemasonry?"


"I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that,
especially as,
rather against the strict rules of your order,
you use an arc-and-compass breastpin."


"Ah,
of course,
I forgot that.

But the writing?"


"What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny
for five inches,
and the left one
with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk?"


"Well,
but China?"


"The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only have been done in China.

I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed
to the literature of the subject.

That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar
to China.

When,
in addition,
I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain,
the matter becomes even more simple."


Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily.

"Well,
I never!" said he.

"I thought at first that you had done something clever,
but I see that there was nothing in it,
after all."


"I begin
to think,
Watson," said Holmes,
"that I make a mistake in explaining.

'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know,
and my poor little reputation,
such as it is,
will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid.

Can you not find the advertisement,
Mr. Wilson?"


"Yes,
I have got it now," he answered
with his thick red finger planted halfway down the column.

"Here it is.

This is what began it all.

You just read it
for yourself,
sir."


I took the paper from him and read as follows.
TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE:

On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins,
of Lebanon,
Pennsylvania,
U.

S.

A.,
there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League
to a salary of 4 pounds a week
for purely nominal services.

All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years,
are eligible.

Appiy in person on Monday,
at eleven o'clock,

to Duncan Ross,
at the offices of the League,
7 Pope's Court,
Fleet Street."

What on earth does this mean?"

I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement.Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair,
as was his habit when in high spirits.

"It is a little off the beaten track,
isn't it?"

said he.

"And now,
Mr. Wilson,
off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself,
your household,
and the effect which this advertisement had upon your fortunes.

You will first make a note,
Doctor,
of the paper and the date."


"It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27,
1890.

Just two months ago."


"Very good.

Now,
Mr. Wilson?"


"Well,
it is just as I have been telling you,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Jabez Wilson,
mopping his forehead;
"I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square,
near the City.

It's not a very large affair,
and of late years it has not done more than just give me a living.

I used
to be able
to keep two assistants,
but now I only keep one;
and I would have a job
to pay him but that he is willing
to come
for half wages so as
to learn the business."


"What is the name of this obliging youth?"

asked Sherlock Holmes."

His name is Vincent Spaulding,
and he's not such a youth,
either.

It's hard
to say his age.

I should not wish a smarter assistant,
Mr. Holmes;
and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able
to give him.

But,
after all,
if he is satisfied,
why should I put ideas in his head?"


"Why,
indeed?

You seem most fortunate in having an employee who comes under the full market price.

It is not a common experience among employers in this age.

I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement."


"Oh,
he has his faults,
too," said Mr. Wilson.

"Never was such a fellow
for photography.

Snapping away
with a camera when he ought
to be improving his mind,
and then diving down in
to the cellar like a rabbit in
to its hole
to develop his pictures.

That is his main fault,
but on the whole he's a good worker.

There's no vice in him."


"He is still
with you,
I presume?"


"Yes,
sir.

He and a girl of fourteen,
who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in the house,

for I am a widower and never had any family.

We live very quietly,
sir,
the three of us;
and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts,
if we do nothing more."

The first thing that put us out was that advertisement.

Spaulding,
he came down in
to the office just this day eight weeks,

with this very paper in his hand,
and he says:
"'I wish
to the Lord,
Mr. Wilson,
that I was a red-headed man.'
"'Why that?' I asks."

'Why,' says he,
'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men.

It's worth quite a little fortune
to any man who gets it,
and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men,
so that the trustees are at their wits' end what
to do
with the money.

If my hair would only change color,
here's a nice little crib all ready
for me
to step into.'
"'Why,
what is it,
then?' I asked.

You see.

Mr. Holmes,
I am a very stay-at-home man,
and as my business came
to me instead of my having
to go
to it,
I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the door-mat.

In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside,
and I was always glad of a bit of news."

'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' he asked
with his eyes open."

'Never.'
"'Why,
I wonder at that,

for you are eligibile yourself
for one of the vacancies.'
"'And what are they worth?' I asked."

'Oh,
merely a couple of hundred a year,
but the work is slight,
and it need not interfere very much
with one's other occupations.'
"Well,
you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears,

for the business has not been over-good
for some years,
and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy."

'Tell me all about it,' said I."

'Well ' said he,
showing me the advertisement,
'you can see
for yourself that the League has a vacancy,
and there is the address where you should apply
for particulars.

As far as I can make out,
the League was founded by an American millionaire,
Ezekiah Hopkins,
who was very peculiar in his ways.

He was himself red-headed,
and he had a great sympathy
for all red-headed men;
so when he died it was found that he had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees,

with instructions
to apply the interest
to the providing of easy berths
to men whose hair is of that color.

From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little
to do.'
"'But,' said I,
'there would be millions of red-headed men who would apply.'
"'Not so many as you might think,' he answered.

'You see it is really confined
to Londoners,
and
to grown men.

This American had started from London when he was young,
and he wanted
to do the old town a good turn.

Then,
again,
I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red,
or dark red,
or anything but real bright,
blazing,
fiery red.

Now,
if you cared
to apply,
Mr. Wilson,
you would just walk in;
but perhaps it would hardly be worth your while
to put yourself out of the way
for the sake of a few hundred pounds.'
"Now,
it is a fact,
gentlemen,
as you may see
for yourselves,
that my hair is of a very full and rich tint,
so that it seemed
to me that if there was
to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met.

Vincent Spaulding seemed
to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful,
so I just ordered him
to put up the shutters
for the day and
to come right away
with me.

He was very willing
to have a holiday,
so we shut the business up and started off
for the address that was given us in the advertisement."

I never hope
to see such a sight as that again,
Mr. Holmes.

From north,
south,
east,
and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped in
to the city
to answer the advertisement.

Fleet Street was choked
with red-headed folk,
and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow.

I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country as were brought together by that single advertisement.

Every shade of color they were--straw,
lemon,
orange,
brick,
Irish-setter,
liver,
clay;
but,
as Spaulding said,
there were not many who had the real vivid flame-colored tint.

When I saw how many were waiting,
I would have given it up in despair;
but Spaulding would not hear of it.

How he did it I could not imagine,
but he pushed and pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd,
and right up
to the steps which led
to the office.

There was a double stream upon the stair,
some going up in hope,
and some coming back dejected;
but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in the office."


"Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory
with a huge pinch of snuff.

"Pray continue your very interesting statement."


"There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a deal table,
behind which sat a small man
with a head that was even redder than mine.

He said a few words
to each candidate as he came up,
and then he always managed
to find some fault in them which would disqualify them.

Getting a vacancy did not seem
to be such a very easy matter,
after all.

However,
when our turn came the little man was much more favorable
to me than
to any of the others,
and he closed the door as we entered,
so that he might have a private word
with us."

'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant,
'and he is willing
to fill a vacancy in the League.'
"'And he is admirably suited
for it,' the other answered.

'He has every requirement.

I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.' He took a step backward,
cocked his head on one side,
and gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful.

Then suddenly he plunged forward,
wrung my hand,
and congratulated me warmly on my success."

'It would be injustice
to hesitate,' said he.

'You will,
however,
I am sure,
excuse me
for taking an obvious precaution.'
with that he seized my hair in both his hands,
and tugged until I yelled
with the pain.

'There is water in your eyes,' said he as he released me.

'I perceive that all is as it should be.

But we have
to be careful,

for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint.

I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you
with human nature.' He stepped over
to the window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled.

A groan of disappointment came up from below,
and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there was not a red-head
to be seen except my own and that of the manager."

'My name,' said he,
'is Mr. Duncan Ross,
and I am myself one of the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor.

Are you a married man,
Mr. Wilson?

Have you a family?'
"I answered that I had not."

His face fell immediately."

'Dear me!' he said gravely,
'that is very serious indeed!

I am sorry
to hear you say that.

The fund was,
of course,

for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as
for their maintenance.

It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.'
"My face lengthened at this,
Mr. Holmes,

for I thought that I was not
to have the vacancy after all;
but after thinking it over
for a few minutes he said that it would be all right."

'In the case of another,' said he,
'the objection might be fatal,
but we must stretch a point in favor of a man
with such a head of hair as yours.

When shall you be able
to enter upon your new duties?'
"'Well,
it is a little awkward,

for I have a business already,' said I."

'Oh,
never mind about that,
Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding.

'I should be able
to look after that
for you.'
"'What would be the hours?' I asked."

'Ten
to two.'
"Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening,
Mr. Holmes,
especially Thursday and Friday evening,
which is just before pay-day;
so it would suit me very well
to earn a little in the mornings.

Besides,
I knew that my assistant was a good man,
and that he would see
to anything that turned up."

'That would suit me very well,' said I.

'And the pay?'
"'Is 4 pounds a week.'
"'And the work?'
"'Is purely nominal.'
"'What do you call purely nominal?'
"'Well,
you have
to be in the office,
or at least in the building,
the whole time.

If you leave,
you forfeit your whole position forever.

The will is very clear upon that point.

You don't comply
with the conditions if you budge from the office during that time.'
"'It's only four hours a day,
and I should not think of leaving,' said I."

'No excuse will avail,' said Mr. Duncan Ross;
'neither sickness nor business nor anything else.

There you must stay,
or you lose your billet.'
"'And the work?'
"'Is
to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

There is the first volume of it in that press.

You must find your own ink,
pens,
and blotting-paper,
but we provide this table and chair.

Will you be ready to-morrow?'
"'Certainly,' I answered."

'Then,
good-bye,
Mr. Jabez Wilson,
and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough
to gain.' He bowed me out of the room and I went home
with my assistant,
hardly knowing what
to say or do,
I was so pleased at my own good fortune."

Well,
I thought over the matter all day,
and by evening I was in low spirits again;

for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud,
though what its object might be I could not imagine.

It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will,
or that they would pay such a sum
for doing anything so simple as copying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Vincent Spaulding did what he could
to cheer me up,
but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole thing.

However,
in the morning I determined
to have a look at it anyhow,
so I bought a penny bottle of ink,
and
with a quill-pen,
and seven sheets of foolscap paper,
I started off
for Pope's Court."

Well,

to my surprise and delight,
everything was as right as possible.

The table was set out ready
for me,
and Mr. Duncan Ross was there
to see that I got fairly
to work.

He started me off upon the letter A,
and then he left me;
but he would drop in from time
to time
to see that all was right
with me.

At two o'clock he bade me good-day,
complimented me upon the amount that I had written,
and locked the door of the office after me."

This went on day after day,
Mr. Holmes,
and on Saturday the manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns
for my week's work.

It was the same next week,
and the same the week after.

Every morning I was there at ten,
and every afternoon I left at two.

By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took
to coming in only once of a morning,
and then,
after a time,
he did not come in at all.

Still,
of course,
I never dared
to leave the room
for an instant,

for I was not sure when he might come,
and the billet was such a good one,
and suited me so well,
that I would not risk the loss of it."

Eight weeks passed away like this,
and I had written about Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica,
and hoped
with diligence that I might get on
to the B's before very long.

It cost me something in foolscap,
and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf
with my writings.

And then suddenly the whole business came
to an end."


"
to an end?"


"Yes,
sir.

And no later than this morning.

I went
to my work as usual at ten o'clock,
but the door was shut and locked,

with a little square of card-board hammered on
to the middle of the panel
with a tack.

Here it is,
and you can read
for yourself."


He held up a piece of white card-board about the size of a sheet of note-paper.

It read in this fashion:
THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE
IS
DISSOLVED.

October 9,
1890.Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful face behind it,
until the comical side of the affair so completely overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out in
to a roar of laughter."

I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client,
flushing up
to the roots of his flaming head.

"If you can do nothing better than laugh at me,
I can go elsewhere."


"No,
no," cried Holmes,
shoving him back in
to the chair from which he had half risen.

"I really wouldn't miss your case
for the world.

It is most refreshingly unusual.

But there is,
if you will excuse my saying so,
something just a little funny about it.

Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the door?"


"I was staggered,
sir.

I did not know what
to do.

Then I called at the offices round,
but none of them seemed
to know anything about it.

Finally,
I went
to the landlord,
who is an accountant living on the ground-floor,
and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headed League.

He said that he had never heard of any such body.

Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was.

He answered that the name was new
to him."

'Well,' said I,
'the gentleman at No.

4.'
"'What,
the red-headed man?'
"'Yes.'
"'Oh,' said he,
'his name was William Morris.

He was a solicitor and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises were ready.

He moved out yesterday.'
"'Where could I find him?'
"'Oh,
at his new offices.

He did tell me the address.

Yes,
17 King Edward Street,
near St.

Paul's.'
"I started off,
Mr. Holmes,
but when I got
to that address it was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps,
and no one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross."


"And what did you do then?"

asked Holmes."

I went home
to Saxe-Coburg Square,
and I took the advice of my assistant.

But he could not help me in any way.

He could only say that if I waited I should hear by post.

But that was not quite good enough,
Mr. Holmes.

I did not wish
to lose such a place without a struggle,
so,
as I had heard that you were good enough
to give advice
to poor folk who were in need of it,
I came right away
to you."


"And you did very wisely," said Holmes.

"Your case is an exceedingly remarkable one,
and I shall be happy
to look in
to it.

From what you have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear."


"Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson.

"Why,
I have lost four pound a week."


"As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes,
"I do not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league.

On the contrary,
you are,
as I understand,
richer by some 30 pounds,

to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which comes under the letter A.

You have lost nothing by them."


"No,
sir.

But I want
to find out about them,
and who they are,
and what their object was in playing this prank--if it was a prank--upon me.

It was a pretty expensive joke
for them,

for it cost them two and thirty pounds."


"We shall endeavor
to clear up these points
for you.

And,
first,
one or two questions,
Mr. Wilson.

This assistant of yours who first called your attention
to the advertisement--how long had he been
with you?"


"About a month then."


"How did he come?"


"In answer
to an advertisement."


"Was he the only applicant?"


"No,
I had a dozen."


"Why did you pick him?"


"Because he was handy and would come cheap."


"At half-wages,
in fact."


"Yes."


"What is he like,
this Vincent Spaulding?"


"Small,
stout-built,
very quick in his ways,
no hair on his face,
though he's not short of thirty.

Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead."


Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement.

"I thought as much," said he.

"Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced
for earrings?"


"Yes,
sir.

He told me that a gypsy had done it
for him when he was a lad."


"Hum!" said Holmes,
sinking back in deep thought.

"He is still
with you?"


"Oh,
yes,
sir;
I have only just left him."


"And has your business been attended
to in your absence?"


"Nothing
to complain of,
sir.

There's never very much
to do of a morning."


"That will do,
Mr. Wilson.

I shall be happy
to give you an opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two.

To-day is Saturday,
and I hope that by Monday we may come
to a conclusion."


"Well,
Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us,
"what do you make of it all?"


"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly.

"It is a most mysterious business."


"As a rule," said Holmes,
"the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves
to be.

It is your commonplace,
featureless crimes which are really puzzling,
just as a commonplace face is the most difficult
to identify.

But I must be prompt over this matter."


"What are you going
to do,
then?"

I asked."


to smoke," he answered.

"It is quite a three pipe problem,
and I beg that you won't speak
to me
for fifty minutes."

He curled himself up in his chair,

with his thin knees drawn up
to his hawk-like nose,
and there he sat
with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird.

I had come
to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep,
and indeed was nodding myself,
when he suddenly sprang out of his chair
with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece."

Sarasate plays at the St.

James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked.

"What do you think,
Watson?

Could your patients spare you
for a few hours?"


"I have nothing
to do to-day.

My practice is never very absorbing."


"Then put on your hat and come.

I am going through the City first,
and we can have some lunch on the way.

I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme,
which is rather more
to my taste than Italian or French.

It is introspective,
and I want
to introspect.

Come along!"
We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate;
and a short walk took us
to Saxe-Coburg Square,
the scene of the singular story which we had listened
to in the morning.

It was a poky,
little,
shabby-genteel place,
where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out in
to a small railed-in enclosure,
where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere.

Three gilt balls and a brown board
with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters,
upon a corner house,
announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his business.

Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it
with his head on one side and looked it all over,

with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids.

Then he walked slowly up the street,
and then down again
to the corner,
still looking keenly at the houses.

Finally he returned
to the pawnbroker's,
and,
having thumped vigorously upon the pavement
with his stick two or three times,
he went up
to the door and knocked.

It was instantly opened by a bright-looking,
clean-shaven young fellow,
who asked him
to step in."

Thank you," said Holmes,
"I only wished
to ask you how you would go from here
to the Strand."


"Third right,
fourth left," answered the assistant promptly,
closing the door."

Smart fellow,
that," observed Holmes as we walked away.

"He is,
in my judgment.

the fourth smartest man in London,
and
for daring I am not sure that he has not a claim
to be third.

I have known something of him before."


"Evidently," said I,
"Mr. Wilson's assistant counts
for a good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League.

I am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see him."


"Not him."


"What then?"


"The knees of his trousers."


"And what did you see?"


"What I expected
to see."


"Why did you beat the pavement?"


"My dear doctor,
this is a time
for observation,
not
for talk.

We are spies in an enemy's country.

We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square.

Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it."


The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast
to it as the front of a picture does
to the back.

It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City
to the north and west.

The roadway was blocked
with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward,
while the footpaths were black
with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians.

It was difficult
to realize as we looked at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted."

Let me see," said Holmes,
standing at the corner and glancing along the line,
"I should like just
to remember the order of the houses here.

It is a hobby of mine
to have an exact knowledge of London.

There is Mortimer's,
the tobacconist,
the little newspaper shop,
the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank,
the Vegetarian Restaurant,
and McFarlane's carriage-building depot.

That carries us right on
to the other block.

And now,
Doctor,
we've done our work,
so it's time we had some play.

A sandwich and a cup of coffee,
and then off
to violin-land,
where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony,
and there are no red-headed clients
to vex us
with their conundruMs."
My friend was an enthusiastic musician,
being himself not only a very capable perfomer but a composer of no ordinary merit.

All the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness,
gently waving his long,
thin fingers in time
to the music,
while his gently smiling face and his languid,
dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes,
the sleuth-hound,
Holmes the relentless,
keen-witted,
ready-handed criminal agent,
as it was possible
to conceive.

In his singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself,
and his extreme exactness and astuteness represented,
as I have often thought,
the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him.

The swing of his nature took him from extreme languor
to devouring energy;
and,
as I knew well,
he was never so truly formidable as when,

for days on end,
he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions.

Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him,
and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise
to the level of intuition,
until those who were unacquainted
with his methods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals.

When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St.

James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set himself
to hunt down."

You want
to go home,
no doubt,
Doctor," he remarked as we emerged."

Yes,
it would be as well."


"And I have some business
to do which will take some hours.

This business at Coburg Square is serious."


"Why serious?"


"A considerable crime is in contemplation.

I have every reason
to believe that we shall be in time
to stop it.

But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters.

I shall want your help to-night."


"At what time?"


"Ten will be early enough."


"I shall be at Baker Street at ten."


"Very well.

And,
I say,
Doctor,
there may be some little danger,
so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket."

He waved his hand,
turned on his heel,
and disappeared in an instant among the crowd.I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbors,
but I was always oppressed
with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings
with Sherlock Holmes.

Here I had heard what he had heard,
I had seen what he had seen,
and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about
to happen,
while
to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque.

As I drove home
to my house in Kensington I thought over it all,
from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the Encyclopaedia down
to the visit
to Saxe-Coburg Square,
and the ominous words
with which he had parted from me.

What was this nocturnal expedition,
and why should I go armed?

Where were we going,
and what were we
to do?

I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man--a man who might play a deep game.

I tried
to puzzle it out,
but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an explanation.It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way across the Park,
and so through Oxford Street
to Baker Street.

Two hansoms were standing at the door,
and as I entered the passage I heard the sound of voices from above.

On entering his room I found Holmes in animated conversation
with two men,
one of whom I recognized as Peter Jones,
the official police agent,
while the other was a long,
thin,
sad-faced man,

with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat."

Ha!

Our party is complete," said Holmes,
buttoning up his peajacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack.

"Watson,
I think you know Mr. Jones,
of Scotland Yard?

Let me introduce you
to Mr. Merryweather,
who is
to be our companion in to-night's adventure."


"We're hunting in couples again,
Doctor,
you see," said Jones in his consequential way.

"Our friend here is a wonderful man
for starting a chase.

All he wants is an old dog
to help him
to do the running down."


"I hope a wild goose may not prove
to be the end of our chase," observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily."

You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes,
sir," said the police agent loftily.

"He has his own little methods,
which are,
if he won't mind my saying so,
just a little too theoretical and fantastic,
but he has the makings of a detective in him.

It is not too much
to say that once or twice,
as in that business of the Shol
to murder and the Agra treasure,
he has been more nearly correct than the official force."


"Oh,
if you say so,
Mr. Jones,
it is all right," said the stranger
with deference.

"Still,
I confess that I miss my rubber.

It is the first Saturday night
for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber."


"I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes,
"that you will play
for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet,
and that the play will be more exciting.


for you,
Mr. Merryweather,
the stake will be some 30,000 pounds;
and
for you,
Jones,
it will be the man upon whom you wish
to lay your hands."


"John Clay,
the murderer,
thief,
smasher,
and forger.

He's a young man,
Mr. Merryweather,
but he is at the head of his profession,
and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London.

He's a remarkable man,
is young John Clay.

His grandfather was a royal duke,
and he himself has been
to Eton and Oxford.

His brain is as cunning.as his fingers,
and though we meet signs of him at every turn,
we never know where
to find the man himself.

He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week,
and be raising money
to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next.

I've been on his track
for years and have never set eyes on him yet."


"I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night.

I've had one or two little turns also
with Mr. John Clay,
and I agree
with you that he is at the head of his profession.

It is past ten,
however,
and quite time that we started.

If you two will take the first hansom,
Watson and I will follow in the second."


Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon.

We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged in
to Farrington Street."

We are close there now," my friend remarked.

"This fellow Merryweather is a bank director,
and personally interested in the matter.

I thought it as well
to have Jones
with us also.

He is not a bad fellow,
though an absolute imbecile in his profession.

He has one positive virtue.

He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone.

Here we are,
and they are waiting
for us."


We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found ourselves in the morning.

Our cabs were dismissed,
and,
following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather,
we passed down a narrow passage and through a side door,
which he opened
for us.

Within there was a small corridor,
which ended in a very massive iron gate.

This also was opened,
and led down a flight of winding stone steps,
which terminated at another formidable gate.

Mr. Merryweather stopped
to light a lantern,
and then conducted us down a dark,
earth-smelling passage,
and so,
after opening a third door,
in
to a huge vault or cellar,
which was piled all round
with crates and massive boxes."

You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as he held up the lantern and gazed about him."

Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather,
striking his stick upon the flags which lined the floor.

"Why,
dear me,
it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked,
looking up in surprise."

I must really ask you
to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely.

"You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition.

Might I beg that you would have the goodness
to sit down upon one of those boxes,
and not
to interfere?"


The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate,

with a very injured expression upon his face,
while Holmes fell upon his knees upon the floor and,

with the lantern and a magnifying lens,
began
to examine minutely the cracks between the stones.

A few seconds sufficed
to satisfy him,

for he sprang
to his feet again and put his glass in his pocket."

We have at least an hour before us," he remarked,
"
for they can hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.

Then they will not lose a minute,

for the sooner they do their work the longer time they will have
for their escape.

We are at present,
Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principal London banks.

Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors,
and he will explain
to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present."


"It is our French gold," whispered the director.

"We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."


"Your French gold?"


"Yes.

We had occasion some months ago
to strengthen our resources and borrowed
for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France.

It has become known that we have never had occasion
to unpack the money,
and that it is still lying in our cellar.

The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil.

Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office,
and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject."


"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes.

"And now it is time that we arranged our little plans.

I expect that within an hour matters will come
to a head.

In the meantime Mr. Merryweather,
we must put the screen over that dark lantern."


"And sit in the dark?"


"I am afraid so.

I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket,
and I thought that,
as we were a partie carree,
you might have your rubber after all.

But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light.

And,
first of all,
we must choose our positions.

These are daring men,
and though we shall take them at a disadvantage,
they may do us some harm unless we are careful.

I shall stand behind this crate,
and do you conceal yourselves behind those.

Then,
when I flash a light upon them,
close in swiftly.

If they fire,
Watson,
have no compunction about shooting them down."


I placed my revolver,
cocked,
upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched.

Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced.

The smell of hot metal remained
to assure us that the light was still there,
ready
to flash out at a moment's notice.


to me,

with my nerves worked up
to a pitch of expectancy,
there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom,
and in the cold dank air of the vault."

They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes.

"That is back through the house in
to Saxe-Coburg Square.

I hope that you have done what I asked you,
Jones?"


"l have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door."


"Then we have stopped all the holes.

And now we must be silent and wait."


What a time it seemed!

From comparing notes afterwards it was but an hour and a quarter,
yet it appeared
to me that the night must have almost gone.

and the dawn be breaking above us.

My limbs were weary and stiff,

for I feared
to change my position;
yet my nerves were worked up
to the highest pitch of tension,
and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions,
but I could distinguish the deeper,
heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin,
sighing note of the bank director.

From my position I could look over the case in the direction of the floor.

Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light.At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement.

Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line,
and then,
without any warning or sound,
a gash seemed
to open and a hand appeared;
a white,
almost womanly hand,
which felt about in the centre of the little area of light.


for a minute or more the hand,

with its writhing fingers,
protruded out of the floor.

Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared,
and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones.Its disappearance,
however,
was but momentary.


with a rending,
tearing sound,
one of the broad,
white stones turned over upon its side and left a square,
gaping hole,
through which streamed the light of a lantern.

Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut,
boyish face,
which looked keenly about it,
and then,

with a hand on either side of the aperture,
drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high,
until one knee rested upon the edge.

In another instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after him a companion,
lithe and small like himself,

with a pale face and a shock of very red hair."

It's all clear," he whispered.

"Have you the chisel and the bags?

Great Scott!

Jump,
Archie,
jump,
and I'll swing
for it!"
Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar.

The other dived down the hole,
and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts.

The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver,
but Holmes's hunting crop came down on the man's wrist,
and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor."

It's no use,
John Clay," said Holmes blandly.

"You have no chance at all."


"So I see," the other answered
with the utmost coolness.

"I fancy that my pal is all right,
though I see you have got his coat-tails."


"There are three men waiting
for him at the door," said Holmes."

Oh,
indeed!

You seem
to have done the thing very completely.

I must compliment you."


"And I you," Holmes answered.

"Your red-headed idea was very new and effective."


"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones.

"He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am.

Just hold out while I fix the derbies."


"I beg that you will not touch me
with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists.

"You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins.

Have the goodness,
also,
when you address me always
to say 'sir' and 'please.'"
"All right," said Jones
with a stare and a snigger.

"Well,
would you please,
sir,
march upstairs,
where we can get a cab
to carry your Highness
to the police-station?"


"That is better," said John Clay serenely.

He made a sweeping bow
to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective."

Really,
Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar,
"I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you.

There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience."


"I have had one or two little scores of my own
to settle
with Mr. John Clay," said Holmes.

"I have been at some small expense over this matter,
which I shall expect the bank
to refund,
but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique,
and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League."


"You see,
Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street,
"it was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League,
and the copying of the Encyclopaedia,
must be
to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way
for a number of hours every day.

It was a curious way of managing it,
but,
really,
it would be difficult
to suggest a better.

The method was no doubt suggested
to Clay's ingenious mind by the color of his accomplice's hair.

The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw him,
and what was it
to them,
who were playing
for thousands?

They put in the advertisement,
one rogue has the temporary office,
the other rogue incites the man
to apply
for it.

and together they manage
to secure his absence every morning in the week.

From the time that I heard of the assistant having come
for half wages,
it was obvious
to me that he had some strong motive
for securing the situation."


"But how could you guess what the motive was?"


"Had there been women in the house,
I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue.

That,
however,
was out of the question.

The man's business was a small one,
and there was nothing in his house which could account
for such elaborate preparations,
and such an expenditure as they were at.

It must,
then,
be something out of the house.

What could it be?

I thought of the assistant's fondness
for photography,
and his trick of vanishing in
to the cellar.

The cellar!

There was the end of this tangled clew.

Then I made inquiries as
to this mysterious assistant and found that I had
to deal
with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London.

He was doing something in the cellar--something which took many hours a day
for months on end.

What could it be,
once more?

I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel
to some other building."

So far I had got when we went
to visit the scene of action.

I surprised you by beating upon the pavement
with my stick.

I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind.

It was not in front.

Then I rang the bell,
and,
as I hoped,
the assistant answered it.

We have had some skirmishes,
but we had never set eyes upon each other before.

I hardly looked at his face.

His knees were what I wished
to see.

You must yourself have remarked how worn,
wrinkled,
and stained they were.

They spoke of those hours of burrowing.

The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for.

I walked round the corner,
saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises,
and felt that I had solved my problem.

When you drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors,

with the result that you have seen."


"And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?"

I asked."

Well,
when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence--in other words,
that they had completed their tunnel.

But it was essential that they should use it soon,
as it might be discovered,
or the bullion might be removed.

Saturday would suit them better than any other day,
as it would give them two days
for their escape.


for all these reasons I expected them
to come to-night."


"You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration "It is so long a chain,
and yet every link rings true."


"It saved me from ennui," he answered,
yawning.

"Alas!

I already feel it closing in upon me.

My life is spent in one long effort
to escape from the commonplaces of existence.

These little problems help me
to do so."


"And you are a benefactor of the race," said I.He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well,
perhaps,
after all,
it is of some little use," he remarked.

" 'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote
to George Sand."


ADVENTURE III.

A CASE OF IDENTITY
"My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street,
"life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent.

We would not dare
to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence.

If we could fly out of that window hand in hand,
hover over this great city,
gently remove the roofs,
and peep in at the queer things which are going on,
the strange coincidences,
the plannings,
the cross-purposes,
the wonderful chains of events,
working through generation,
and leading
to the most outre results,
it would make all fiction
with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable."


"And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered.

"The cases which come
to light in the papers are,
as a rule,
bald enough,
and vulgar enough.

We have in our police reports realism pushed
to its extreme limits,
and yet the result is,
it must be confessed,
neither fascinating nor artistic."


"A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic effect," remarked Holmes.

"This is wanting in the police report,
where more stress is laid,
perhaps,
upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details,
which
to an observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter.

Depend upon it,
there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."


I smiled and shook my head.

"I can quite understand your thinking so."

I said.

"Of course,
in your position of unofficial adviser and helper
to everybody who is absolutely puzzled,
throughout three continents,
you are brought in contact
with all that is strange and bizarre.

But here"--I picked up the morning paper from the ground--"let us put it
to a practical test.

Here is the first heading upon which I come.

'A husband's cruelty
to his wife.' There is half a column of print,
but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar
to me.

There is,
of course,
the other woman,
the drink,
the push,
the blow,
the bruise,
the sympathetic sister or landlady.

The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude."


"Indeed,
your example is an unfortunate one
for your argument," said Holmes,
taking the paper and glancing his eye down it.

"This is the Dundas separation case,
and,
as it happens,
I was engaged in clearing up some small points in connection
with it.

The husband was a teetotaler,
there was no other woman,
and the conduct complained of was that he had drifted in
to the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife,
which,
you will allow,
is not an action likely
to occur
to the imagination of the average story-teller.

Take a pinch of snuff,
Doctor,
and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example."


He held out his snuffbox of old gold,

with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid.

Its splendour was in such contrast
to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it."

Ah," said he,
"I forgot that I had not seen you
for some weeks.

It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return
for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers."


"And the ring?"

I asked,
glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkled upon his finger."

It was from the reigning family of Holland,
though the matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even
to you,
who have been good enough
to chronicle one or two of my little probleMs."
"And have you any on hand just now?"

I asked
with interest."

Some ten or twelve,
but none which present any feature of interest.

They are important,
you understand,
without being interesting.

Indeed,
I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field
for the observation,
and
for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm
to an investigation.

The larger crimes are apt
to be the simpler,

for the bigger the crime thc more obvious,
as a rule,
is the motive.

In these cases,
save
for one rather intricate matter which has been referred
to me from Marseilles,
there is nothing which presents any features of interest.

It is possible,
however,
that I may have something better before very many minutes are over,

for this is one of my clients,
or I am much mistaken."


He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds gazing down in
to the dull neutral-tinted London street.

Looking over his shoulder,
I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large woman
with a heavy fur boa round her neck,
and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear.

From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous,
hesitating fashion at our windows,
while her body oscillated backward and forward,
and her fingers fidgeted
with her glove buttons.

Suddenly,

with a plunge,
as of the swimmer who leaves the bank,
she hurried across the road,
and we heard the sharp clang of the bell."

I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes,
throwing his cigarette in
to the fire.

"Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur.

She would like advice,
but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate
for communication.

And yet even here we may discriminate.

When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates,
and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire.

Here we may take it that there is a love matter,
but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed,
or grieved.

But here she comes in person
to resolve our doubts."


As he spoke there was a tap at the door,
and the boy in buttons.

entered
to announce Miss Mary Sutherland,
while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat.

Sherlock Holmes welcomed her
with the easy courtesy
for which he was remarkable,
and,
having closed the door and bowed her in
to an armchair,
he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar
to him."

Do you not find," he said,
"that
with your short sight it is a little trying
to do so much typewriting?"


"I did at first," she answered,
"but now I know where the letters are without looking."

Then,
suddenly realizing the full purport of his words,
she gave a violent start and looked up,

with fear and astonishment upon her broad,
good-humoured face.

"You've heard about me,
Mr. Holmes," she cried,
"else how could you know all that?"


"Never mind," said Holmes,
laughing;
"it is my business
to know things.

Perhaps I have trained myself
to see what others overlook.

If not,
why should you come
to consult me?"


"I came
to you,
sir,
because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege,
whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up
for dead.

Oh,
Mr. Holmes,
I wish you would do as much
for me.

I'm not rich,
but still I have a hundred a year in my own right,
besides the little that I make by the machine,
and I would give it all
to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel."


"Why did you come away
to consult me in such a hurry?"

asked Sherlock Holmes,

with his finger-tips together and his eyes
to the ceiling.Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary Sutherland.

"Yes,
I did bang out of the house," she said,
"
for it made me angry
to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank--that is,
my father--took it all.

He would not go
to the police,
and he would not go
to you,
and so at last,
as he would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done,
it made me mad,
and I just on
with my things and came right away
to you."


"Your father," said Holmes,
"your stepfather,
surely,
since the name is different."


"Yes,
my stepfather.

I call him father,
though it sounds funny,
too,

for he is only five years and two months older than myself."


"And your mother is alive?"


"Oh,
yes,
mother is alive and well.

I wasn't best pleased,
Mr. Holmes,
when she married again so soon after father's death,
and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself.

Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road,
and he left a tidy business behind him,
which mother carried on
with Mr. Hardy,
the foreman;
but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the business,

for he was very superior,
being a traveller in wines.

They got 4700 pounds
for the goodwill and interest,
which wasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been alive."


I had expected
to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and inconsequential narrative,
but,
on the contrary he had listened
with the greatest concentration of attention."

Your own little income," he asked,
"does it come out of the business?"


"Oh,
no,
sir.

It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in Auckland.

It is in New Zealand stock,
paying 4 1/2 per cent.

Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount,
but I can only touch the interest."


"You interest me extremely," said Holmes.

"And since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year,

with what you earn in
to the bargain,
you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way.

I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about 60 pounds."


"I could do
with much less than that,
Mr. Holmes,
but you understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish
to be a burden
to them,
and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying
with them.

Of course,
that is only just
for the time.

Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over
to mother,
and I find that I can do pretty well
with what I earn at typewriting.

It brings me twopence a sheet,
and I can often do from fifteen
to twenty sheets in a-day."


"You have made your position very clear
to me," said Holmes.

"This is my friend,
Dr. Watson,
before whom you can speak as freely as before myself.

Kindly tell us now all about your connection
with Mr. Hosmer Angel."


A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face,
and she picked nervously at the fringe of her jacket.

"I met him first at the gasfitters' ball," she said.

"They used
to send father tickets when he was alive,
and then afterwards they remembered us,
and sent them
to mother.

Mr. Windibank did not wish us
to go.

He never did wish us
to go anywhere.

He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as
to join a Sunday-school treat.

But this time I was set on going,
and I would go;

for what right had he
to prevent?

He said the folk were not fit
for us
to know,
when all father's friends were
to be there.

And he said that I had nothing fit
to wear,
when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer.

At last,
when nothing else would do,
he went off
to France upon the business of the firm,
but we went,
mother and I,

with Mr. Hardy,
who used
to be our foreman,
and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel."


"I suppose," said Holmes,
"that when Mr. Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone
to the ball."


"Oh,
well,
he was very good about it.

He laughed,
I remember,
and shrugged his shoulders,
and said there was no use denying anything
to a woman,

for she would have her way."


"I see.

Then at the gasfitters' ball you met,
as I understand,
a gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel."


"Yes,
sir.

I met him that night,
and he called next day
to ask if we had got home all safe,
and after that we met him--that is
to say,
Mr. Holmes,
I met him twice
for walks,
but after that father came back again,
and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come
to the house any more."


"No?"


"Well,
you know father didn't like anything of the sort.

He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it,
and he used
to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle.

But then,
as I used
to say
to mother,
a woman wants her own circle
to begin with,
and I had not got mine yet."


"But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel?

Did he make no attempt
to see you?"


"Well,
father was going off
to France again in a week,
and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not
to see each other until he had gone.

We could write in the meantime,
and he used
to write every day.

I took the letters in in the morning,
so there was no need
for father
to know."


"Were you engaged
to the gentleman at this time?"


"Oh,
yes,
Mr. Holmes.

We were engaged after the first walk that we took.

Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street--and--"
"What office?"


"That's the worst of it,
Mr. Holmes,
I don't know."


"Where did he live,
then?"


"He slept on the premises."


"And you don't know his address?"


"No--except that it was Leadenhall Street."


"Where did you address your letters,
then?"


"
to the Leadenhall Street Post-Office,

to be left till called for.

He said that if they were sent
to the office he would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady,
so I offered
to typewrite them,
like he did his,
but he wouldn't have that,

for he said that when I wrote them they seemed
to come from me,
but when they were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us.

That will just show you how fond he was of me,
Mr. Holmes,
and the little things that he would think of."


"It was most suggestive," said Holmes.

"It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.

Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?"


"He was a very shy man,
Mr. Holmes.

He would rather walk
with me in the evening than in the daylight,

for he said that he hated
to be conspicuous.

Very retiring and gentlemanly he was.

Even his voice was gentle.

He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young,
he told me,
and it had left him
with a weak throat,
and a hesitating,
whispering fashion of speech.

He was always well dressed,
very neat and plain,
but his eyes were weak,
just as mine are,
and he wore tinted glasses against the glare."


"Well,
and what happened when Mr. Windibank,
your stepfather,
returned
to France?"


"Mr. Hosmer Angel came
to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back.

He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear,

with my hands on the Testament,
that whatever happened I would always be true
to him.

Mother said he was quite right
to make me swear,
and that it was a sign of his passion.

Mother was all in his favor from the first and was even fonder of him than I was.

Then,
when they talked of marrying within the week,
I began
to ask about father;
but they both said never
to mind about father,
but just
to tell him afterwards,
and mother said she would make it all right
with him.

I didn't quite like that,
Mr. Holmes.

It seemed funny that I should ask his leave,
as he was only a few years older than me;
but I didn't want
to do anything on the sly,
so I wrote
to father at Bordeaux,
where the company has its French offices,
but the letter came back
to me on the very morning of the wedding."


"It missed him,
then?"


"Yes,
sir;

for he had started
to England just before it arrived."


"Ha!

that was unfortunate.

Your wedding was arranged,
then,

for the Friday.

Was it
to be in church?"


"Yes,
sir,
but very quietly.

It was
to be at St.

Saviour's,
near King's Cross,
and we were
to have breakfast afterwards at the St.

Pancras Hotel.

Hosmer came
for us in a hansom,
but as there were two of us he put us both in
to it and stepped himself in
to a four-wheeler,
which happened
to be the only other cab in the street.

We got
to the church first,
and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited
for him
to step out,
but he never did,
and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one there!

The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him,

for he had seen him get in
with his own eyes.

That was last Friday,
Mr. Holmes,
and I have never seen or heard anything since then
to throw any light upon what became of him."


"It seems
to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes."

Oh,
no,
sir!

He was too good and kind
to leave me so.

Why,
all the morning he was saying
to me that,
whatever happened,
I was
to be true;
and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred
to separate us,
I was always
to remember that I was pledged
to him,
and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later.

It seemed strange talk
for a wedding-morning,
but what has happened since gives a meaning
to it."


"Most certainly it does.

Your own opinion is,
then,
that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred
to him?"


"Yes,
sir.

I believe that he foresaw some danger,
or else he would not have talked so.

And then I think that what he foresaw happened."


"But you have no notion as
to what it could have been?"


"None."


"One more question.

How did your mother take the matter?"


"She was angry,
and said that I was never
to speak of the matter again."


"And your father?

Did you tell him?"


"Yes;
and he seemed
to think,

with me,
that something had happened,
and that I should hear of Hosmer again.

As he said,
what interest could anyone have in bringing me
to the doors of the church,
and then leaving me?

Now,
if he had borrowed my money,
or if he had married me and got my money settled on him,
there might be some reason,
but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine.

And yet,
what could have happened?

And why could he not write?

Oh,
it drives me half-mad
to think of it,
and I can't sleep a wink at night."

She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began
to sob heavily in
to it."

I shall glance in
to the case
for you," said Holmes,
rising,
"and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result.

Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now,
and do not let your mind dwell upon it further.

Above all,
try
to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory,
as he has done from your life."


"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"


"I fear not."


"Then what has happened
to him?"


"You will leave that question in my hands.

I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare."


"I advertised
for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she.

"Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."


"Thank you.

And your address?"


"No.

31 Lyon Place,
Camberwell."


"Mr. Angel's address you never had,
I understand.

Where is your father's place of business?"


"He travels
for Westhouse & Marbank,
the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street."


"Thank you.

You have made your statement very clearly.

You will leave the papers here,
and remember the advice which I have given you.

Let the whole incident be a sealed book,
and do not allow it
to affect your life."


"You are very kind,
Mr. Holmes,
but I cannot do that.

I shall be true
to Hosmer.

He shall find me ready when he comes back."



for all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face,
there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect.

She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way,

with a promise
to come again whenever she might be summoned.Sherlock Holmes sat silent
for a few minutes
with his fingertips still pressed together,
his legs stretched out in front of him,
and his gaze directed upward
to the ceiling.

Then he took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe,
which was
to him as a counsellor,
and,
having lit it,
he leaned back in his chair,

with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him,
and a look of infinite languor in his face."

Quite an interesting study,
that maiden," he observed.

"I found her more interesting than her little problem,
which,
by the way,
is rather a trite one.

You will find parallel cases,
if you consult my index,
in Andover in '77,
and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year.

Old as is the idea,
however,
there were one or two details which were new
to me.

But the maiden herself was most instructive."


"You appeared
to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible
to me," I remarked."

Not invisible but unnoticed,
Watson.

You did not know where
to look,
and so you missed all that was important.

I can never bring you
to realize the importance of sleeves,
the suggestiveness of thumb-nails,
or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace.

Now,
what did you gather from that woman's appearance?

Describe it."


"Well,
she had a slate-colored,
broad-brimmed straw hat,

with a feather of a brickish red.

Her jacket was black,

with black beads sewn upon it,
and a fringe of little black jet ornaments.

Her dress was brown,
rather darker than coffee color,

with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves.

Her gloves were grayish and were worn through at the right forefinger.

Her boots I didn't observe.

She had small round,
hanging gold earrings,
and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar,
comfortable,
easy-going way."


Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled."

'Pon my word,
Watson,
you are coming along wonderfully.

You have really done very well indeed.

It is true that you have missed everything of importance,
but you have hit upon the method,
and you have a quick eye
for color.

Never trust
to general impressions,
my boy,
but concentrate yourself upon details.

My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve.

In a man it is perhaps better first
to take the knee of the trouser.

As you observe,
this woman had plush upon her sleeves,
which is a most useful material
for showing traces.

The double line a little above the wrist,
where the typewritist presses against the table,
was beautifully defined.

The sewing-machine,
of the hand type,
leaves a similar mark,
but only on the left arm,
and on the side of it farthest from the thumb,
instead of being right across the broadest part,
as this was.

I then glanced at her face,
and,
observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose,
I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting,
which seemed
to surprise her."


"It surprised me."


"But,
surely,
it was obvious.

I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down
to observe that,
though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other,
they were really odd ones;
the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap,
and the other a plain one.

One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five,
and the other at the first,
third,
and fifth.

Now,
when you see that a young lady,
otherwise neatly dressed,
has come away from home
with odd boots,
half-buttoned,
it is no great deduction
to say that she came away in a hurry."


"And what else?"

I asked,
keenly interested,
as I always was,
by my friend's incisive reasoning."

I noted,
in passing,
that she had written a note before leaving home but after being fully dressed.

You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger,
but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained
with violet ink.

She had written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep.

It must have been this morning,
or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger.

All this is amusing,
though rather elementary,
but I must go back
to business,
Watson.

Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"


I held the little printed slip
to the light."

Missing [it said] on the morning of the fourteenth,
a gentleman named Hosmer Angel.

About five ft.

seven in.

in height;
strongly built,
sallow complexion,
black hair,
a little bald in the centre,
bushy,
black side-whiskers and moustache;
tinted glasses,
slight infirmity of speech.

Was dressed,
when last seen,
in black frock-coat faced
with silk,
black waistcoat,
gold Albert chain,
and gray Harris tweed trousers,

with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots.

Known
to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street.

Anybody bringing--"
"That will do," said Holmes.

"As
to the letters," he continued,
glancing over them,
"they are very commonplace.

Absolutely no clew in them
to Mr. Angel,
save that he quotes Balzac once.

There is one remarkable point,
however,
which will no doubt strike you."


"They are typewritten," I remarked."

Not only that,
but the signature is typewritten.

Look at the neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom.

There is a date,
you see,
but no superscription except Leadenhall Street,
which is rather vague.

The point about the signature is very suggestive --in fact,
we may call it conclusive."


"Of what?"


"My dear fellow,
is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?"


"I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished
to be able
to deny his signature if an action
for breach of promise were instituted."


"No,
that was not the point.

However,
I shall write two letters,
which should settle the matter.

One is
to a firm in the City,
the other is
to the young lady's stepfather,
Mr. Windibank,
asking him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow evening.

It is just as well that we should do business
with the male relatives.

And now,
Doctor,
we can do nothing until the answers
to those letters come,
so we may put our little problem upon the shelf
for the interim."


I had had so many reasons
to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must have some solid grounds
for the assured and easy demeanour
with which he treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon
to fathom.

Once only had I known him
to fail,
in the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler photograph;
but when I looked back
to the weird business of 'The Sign of Four',
and the extraordinary circumstances connected
with 'A Study in Scarlet',
I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeed which he could not unravel.I left him then,
still puffing at his black clay pipe,

with the conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held in his hands all the clews which would lead up
to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland.A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time,
and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer.

It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able
to spring in
to a hansom and drive
to Baker Street,
half afraid that I might be too late
to assist at the denouement of the little mystery.

I found Sherlock Holmes alone,
however,
half asleep,

with his long,
thin form curled up in the recesses of his armchair.

A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes,

with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid,
told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear
to him."

Well,
have you solved it?"

I asked as I entered."

Yes.

It was the bisulphate of baryta."


"No,
no,
the mystery!" I cried."

Oh,
that!

I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.

There was never any mystery in the matter,
though,
as I said yesterday,
some of the details are of interest.

The only drawback is that there is no law,
I fear,
that can touch the scoundrel."


"Who was he,
then,
and what was his object in deserting Miss Sutherland?"


The question was hardly out of my mouth,
and Holmes had not yet opened his lips
to reply,
when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the door."

This is the girl's stepfather,
Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes.

"He has written
to me
to say that he would be here at six.

Come in!"
The man who entered was a sturdy,
middle-sized fellow,
some thirty years of age,
clean-shaven,
and sallow-skinned,

with a bland,
insinuating manner,
and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating gray eyes.

He shot a questioning glance at each of us,
placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard,
and
with a slight bow sidled down in
to the nearest chair."

Good-evening,
Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes.

"I think that this typewritten letter is from you,
in which you made an appointment
with me
for six o'clock?"


"Yes,
sir.

I am afraid that I am a little late,
but I am not quite my own master,
you know.

I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter,

for I think it is far better not
to wash linen of the sort in public.

It was quite against my wishes that she came,
but she is a very excitable,
impulsive girl,
as you may have noticed,
and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point.

Of course,
I did not mind you so much,
as you are not connected
with the official police,
but it is not pleasant
to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad.

Besides,
it is a useless expense,

for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?"


"On the contrary," said Holmes quietly;
"I have every reason
to believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel."


Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves.

"I am delighted
to hear it," he said."

It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes,
"that a typewriter has really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting.

Unless they are quite new,
no two of them write exactly alike.

Some letters get more worn than others,
and some wear only on one side.

Now,
you remark in this note of yours,
Mr. Windibank,
that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen other characteristics,
but those are the more obvious."


"We do all our correspondence
with this machine at the office,
and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered,
glancing keenly at Holmes
with his bright little eyes."

And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study,
Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued.

"I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation
to crime.

It is a subject
to which I have devoted some little attention.

I have here four letters which purport
to come from the missing man.

They are all typewritten.

In each case,
not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless,
but you will observe,
if you care
to use my magnifying lens,
that the fourteen other characteristics
to which I have alluded are there as well."


Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat.

"I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk,
Mr. Holmes," he said.

"If you can catch the man,
catch him,
and let me know when you have done it."


"Certainly," said Holmes,
stepping over and turning the key in the door.

"I let you know,
then,
that I have caught him!"
"What!

where?"

shouted Mr. Windibank,
turning white
to his lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap."

Oh,
it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely.

"There is no possible getting out of it,
Mr. Windibank.

It is quite too transparent,
and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible
for me
to solve so simple a question.

That's right!

Sit down and let us talk it over."


Our visitor collapsed in
to a chair,

with a ghastly face and a glitter of moisture on his brow.

"It--it's not actionable," he stammered."

I am very much afraid that it is not.

But between ourselves,
Windibank,
it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.

Now,
let me just run over the course of events,
and you will contradict me if I go wrong."


The man sat huddled up in his chair,

with his head sunk upon his breast,
like one who is utterly crushed.

Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and,
leaning back
with his hands in his pockets,
began talking,
rather
to himself,
as it seemed,
than
to us."

The man married a woman very much older than himself
for her money," said he,
"and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as she lived
with them.

It was a considerable sum,

for people in their position,
and the loss of it would have made a serious difference.

It was worth an effort
to preserve it.

The daughter was of a good,
amiable disposition,
but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways,
so that it was evident that
with her fair personal advantages,
and her little income,
she would not be allowed
to remain single long.

Now her marriage would mean,
of course,
the loss of a hundred a year,
so what does her stepfather do
to prevent it?

He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home and forbidding her
to seek the company of people of her own age.

But soon he found that that would not answer forever.

She became restive,
insisted upon her rights,
and finally announced her positive intention of going
to a certain ball.

What does her clever stepfather do then?

He conceives an idea more creditable
to his head than
to his heart.


with the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself,
covered those keen eyes
with tinted glasses,
masked the face
with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers,
sunk that clear voice in
to an insinuating whisper,
and doubly secure on account of the girl's short sight,
he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel,
and keeps off other lovers by making love himself."


"It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor.

"We never thought that she would have been so carried away."


"Very likely not.

However that may be,
the young lady was very decidedly carried away,
and,
having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was in France,
the suspicion of treachery never
for an instant entered her mind.

She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions,
and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother.

Then Mr. Angel began
to call,

for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as it would go if a real effect were
to be produced.

There were meetings,
and an engagement,
which would finally secure the girl's affections from turning towards anyone else.

But the deception could not be kept up forever.

These pretended journeys
to France were rather cumbrous.

The thing
to do was clearly
to bring the business
to an end in such a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor
for some time
to come.

Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament,
and hence also the allusions
to a possibility of something happening on the very morning of the wedding.

James Windibank wished Miss Sutherland
to be so bound
to Hosmer Angel,
and so uncertain as
to his fate,
that
for ten years
to come,
at any rate,
she would not listen
to another man.

As far as the church door he brought her,
and then,
as he could go no farther,
he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other.

I think that was the chain of events,
Mr. Windibank!"
Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had been talking,
and he rose from his chair now
with a cold sneer upon his pale face."

It may be so,
or it may not.

Mr. Holmes," said he,
"but if you are so very sharp you ought
to be sharp enough
to know that it is you who are breaking the law now,
and not me.

I have done nothing actionable from the first,
but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open
to an action
for assault and illegal constraint."


"The law cannot,
as you say,
touch you," said Holmes,
unlocking and throwing open the door,
"yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more.

If the young lady has a brother or a friend,
he ought
to lay a whip across your shoulders.

By Jove!" he continued,
flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face,
"it is not part of my duties
to my client,
but here's a hunting crop handy,
and I think I shall just treat myself to--" He took two swift steps
to the whip,
but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs,
the heavy hall door banged,
and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road."

There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes,
laughing,
as he threw himself down in
to his chair once more.

"That fellow will rise from crime
to crime until he does something very bad,
and ends on a gallows.

The case has,
in some respects,
been not entirely devoid of interest."


"I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked."

Well,
of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer Angel must have some strong object
for his curious conduct,
and it was equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident,
as far as we could see,
was the stepfather.

Then the fact that the two men were never together,
but that the one always appeared when the other was away,
was suggestive.

So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,
which both hinted at a disguise,
as did the bushy whiskers.

My suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature,
which,
of course,
inferred that his handwriting was so familiar
to her that she would recognize even the smallest sample of it.

You see all these isolated facts,
together
with many minor ones,
all pointed in the same direction."


"And how did you verify them?"


"Having once spotted my man,
it was easy
to get corroboration.

I knew the firm
for which this man worked.

Having taken the printed description.

I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise--the whiskers,
the glasses,
the voice,
and I sent it
to the firm,

with a request that they would inform me whether it answered
to the description of any of their travellers.

I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter,
and I wrote
to the man himself at his business address asking him if he would come here.

As I expected,
his reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic defects.

The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank,
of Fenchurch Street,

to say that the description tallied in every respect
with that of their employee,
James Windibank.

Voila tout!"
"And Miss Sutherland?"


"If I tell her she will not believe me.

You may remember the old Persian saying,
'There is danger
for him who taketh the tiger cub,
and danger also
for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace,
and as much knowledge of the world."


ADVENTURE IV.

THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY
We were seated at breakfast one morning,
my wife and I,
when the maid brought in a telegram.

It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:
Have you a couple of days
to spare?

Have just been wired
for from the west of England in connection
with Boscombe Valley tragedy.

Shall be glad if you will come
with me.

Air and scenery perfect.

Leave Paddington by the 11:15."

What do you say,
dear?"

said my wife,
looking across at me.

"Will you go?"


"I really don't know what
to say.

I have a fairly long list at present."


"Oh,
Anstruther would do your work
for you.

You have been looking a little pale lately.

I think that the change would do you good,
and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes's cases."


"I should be ungrateful if I were not,
seeing what I gained through one of them," I answered.

"But if I am
to go,
I must pack at once,

for I have only half an hour."


My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller.

My wants were few and simple,
so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab
with my valise,
rattling away
to Paddington Station.

Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform,
his tall,
gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long gray travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap."

It is really very good of you
to come,
Watson," said he.

"It makes a considerable difference
to me,
having someone
with me on whom I can thoroughly rely.

Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed.

If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets."


We had the carriage
to ourselves save
for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought
with him.

Among these he rummaged and read,

with intervals of note-taking and of meditation,
until we were past Reading.

Then he suddenly rolled them all in
to a gigantic ball and tossed them up on
to the rack."

Have you heard anything of the case?"

he asked."

Not a word.

I have not seen a paper
for some days."


"The London press has not had very full accounts.

I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order
to master the particulars.

It seems,
from what I gather,

to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult."


"That sounds a little paradoxical."


"But it is profoundly true.

Singularity is almost invariably a clew.

The more featureless and commonplace a crime is,
the more difficult it is
to bring it home.

In this case,
however,
they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man."


"It is a murder,
then?"


"Well,
it is conjectured
to be so.

I shall take nothing
for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally in
to it.

I will explain the state of things
to you,
as far as I have been able
to understand it,
in a very few words."

Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross,
in Herefordshire.

The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner,
who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago
to the old country.

One of the farms which he held,
that of Hatherley,
was let
to Mr. Charles McCarthy,
who was also an ex-Australian.

The men had known each other in the colonies,
so that it was not unnatural that when they came
to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible.

Turner was apparently the richer man,
so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained,
it seems,
upon terms of perfect equality,
as they were frequently together.

McCarthy had one son,
a lad of eighteen,
and Turner had an only daughter of the same age,
but neither of them had wives living.

They appear
to have avoided the society of the neighboring English families and
to have led retired lives,
though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighborhood.

McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl.

Turner had a considerable household,
some half-dozen at the least.

That is as much as I have been able
to gather about the families.

Now
for the facts."

On June 3rd,
that is,
on Monday last,
McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down
to the Boscombe Pool,
which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley.

He had been out
with his serving-man in the morning at Ross,
and he had told the man that he must hurry,
as he had an appointment of importance
to keep at three.

From that appointment he never came back alive."

From Hatherley Farm-house
to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile,
and two people saw him as he passed over this ground.

One was an old woman,
whose name is not mentioned,
and the other was William Crowder,
a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner.

Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone.

The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son,
Mr. James McCarthy,
going the same way
with a gun under his arm.


to the best of his belief,
the father was actually in sight at the time,
and the son was following him.

He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred."

The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder,
the game-keeper,
lost sight of them.

The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round,

with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge.

A girl of fourteen,
Patience Moran,
who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate,
was in one of the woods picking flowers.

She states that while she was there she saw,
at the border of the wood and close by the lake,
Mr. McCarthy and his son,
and that they appeared
to be having a violent quarrel.

She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language
to his son,
and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if
to strike his father.

She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool,
and that she was afraid that they were going
to fight.

She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up
to the lodge
to say that he had found his father dead in the wood,
and
to ask
for the help of the lodge-keeper.

He was much excited,
without either his gun or his hat,
and his right hand and sleeve were observed
to be stained
with fresh blood.

On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool.

The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon.

The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun,
which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body.

Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested,
and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday,
he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross,
who have referred the case
to the next Assizes.

Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court."


"I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked.

"If ever circumstantial evidence pointed
to a criminal it does so here."


"Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully.

"It may seem
to point very straight
to one thing,
but if you shift your own point of view a little,
you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner
to something entirely different.

It must be confessed,
however,
that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man,
and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit.

There are several people in the neighborhood,
however,
and among them Miss Turner,
the daughter of the neighboring landowner,
who believe in his innocence,
and who have retained Lestrade,
whom you may recollect in connection
with 'A Study in Scarlet',

to work out the case in his interest.

Lestrade,
being rather puzzled,
has referred the case
to me,
and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home."


"I am afraid," said I,
"that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit
to be gained out of this case."


"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered,
laughing.

"Besides,
we may chance
to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious
to Mr. Lestrade.

You know me too well
to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing,
or even of understanding.


to take the first example
to hand,
I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side,
and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that."


"How on earth--"
"My dear fellow,
I know you well.

I know the military neatness which characterizes you.

You shave every morning,
and in this season you shave by the sunlight;
but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side,
until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw,
it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other.

I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied
with such a result.

I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference.

Therein lies my metier,
and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us.

There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest,
and which are worth considering."


"What are they?"


"It appears that his arrest did not take place at once,
but after the return
to Hatherley Farm.

On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner,
he remarked that he was not surprised
to hear it,
and that it was no more than his deserts.

This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury."


"It was a confession," I ejaculated."

No,

for it was followed by a protestation of innocence."


"Coming on the top of such a damning series of events,
it was at least a most suspicious remark."


"On the contrary," said Holmes,
"it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds.

However innocent he might be,
he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not
to see that the circumstances were very black against him.

Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest,
or feigned indignation at it,
I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious,
because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances,
and yet might appear
to be the best policy
to a scheming man.

His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man,
or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness.

As
to his remark about his deserts,
it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father,
and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as
to bandy words
with him,
and even,
according
to the little girl whose evidence is so important,

to raise his hand as if
to strike him.

The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear
to me
to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty on."


I shook my head.

"Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked."

So they have.

And many men have been wrongfully hanged."


"What is the young man's own account of the matter?"


"It is,
I am afraid,
not very encouraging
to his supporters,
though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive.

You will find it here,
and may read it
for yourself."


He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper,
and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred.

I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully.

It ran in this way:
Mr. James McCarthy,
the only son of the deceased,
was then called and gave evidence as follows:

"I had been away from home
for three days at Bristol,
and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday,
the 3d.

My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival,
and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over
to Ross
with John Cobb,
the groom.

Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard,
and,
looking out of my window,
I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard,
though I was not aware in which direction he was going.

I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool,

with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side.

On my way I saw William Crowder,
the game-keeper,
as he had stated in his evidence;
but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father.

I had no idea that he was in front of me.

When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of 'Cooee!' which was a usual signal between my father and myself.

I then hurried forward,
and found him standing by the pool.

He appeared
to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there.

A conversation ensued which led
to high words and almost
to blows,

for my father was a man of a very violent temper.

Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable,
I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm.

I had not gone more than 150 yards,
however,
when I heard a hideous outcry behind me,
which caused me
to run back again.

I found my father expiring upon the ground,

with his head terribly injured.

I dropped my gun and held him in my arms,
but he almost instantly expired.

I knelt beside him
for some minutes,
and then made my way
to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper,
his house being the nearest,

to ask
for assistance.

I saw no one near my father when I returned,
and I have no idea how he came by his injuries.

He was not a popular man,
being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners,
but he had,
as far as I know,
no active enemies.

I know nothing further of the matter."


"The Coroner:

'Did your father make any statement
to you before he died?'
"Witness:

'He mumbled a few words,
but I could only catch some allusion
to a rat.'
"The Coroner:

'What did you understand by that?'
"Witness:

'It conveyed no meaning
to me.

I thought that he was delirious.'
"The Coroner:

'What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel?'
"Witness:

'I should prefer not
to answer.'
"The Coroner:

'I am afraid that I must press it.'
"Witness:

'It is really impossible
for me
to tell you.

I can assure you that it has nothing
to do
with the sad tragedy which followed.'
"The Coroner:

'That is
for the court
to decide.

I need not point out
to you that your refusal
to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise'
"Witness:

'I must still refuse.'
"The Coroner:

'I understand that the cry of "Cooee" was a common signal between you and your father?'
"Witness:

'It was.'
"The Coroner:

'How was it,
then,
that he uttered it before he saw you,
and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol?'
"Witness (
with considerable confusion):

'I do not know.'
"A Juryman:

'Did you see nothing which aroused your suspiclons when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured?'
"Witness:

'Nothing definite.'
"The Coroner:

'What do you mean?'
"Witness:

'I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out in
to the open,
that I could think of nothing except of my father.

Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground
to the left of me.

It seemed
to me
to be something gray in color,
a coat of some sort,
or a plaid perhaps.

When I rose from my father I looked round
for it,
but it was gone.'
"'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went
for help?'
"'Yes,
it was gone.'
"'You cannot say what it was?'
"'No,
I had a feeling something was there.'
"'How far from the body?'
"'A dozen yards or so.'
"'And how far from the edge of the wood?'
"'About the same.'
"'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?'
"'Yes,
but
with my back towards it.'
"This concluded the examination of the witness."


"I see," said I as I glanced down the column,
"that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy.

He calls attention,
and
with reason,

to the discrepancy about his father having signalled
to him before seeing him also
to his refusal
to give details of his conversation
with his father,
and his singular account of his father's dying words.

They are all,
as he remarks,
very much against the son."


Holmes laughed softly
to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat.

"Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said he,
"
to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favor.

Don't you see that you alternately give him credit
for having too much imaginition and too little?

Too little,
if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury;
too much,
if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outre as a dying reference
to a rat,
and the incident of the vanishing cloth.

No,
sir,
I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true,
and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us.

And now here is my pocket Petrarch,
and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action.

We lunch at Swindon,
and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes."


It was nearly four o'clock when we at last,
after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley,
and over the broad gleaming Severn,
found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross.

A lean,
ferret-like man,
furtive and sly-looking,
was waiting
for us upon the platform.

In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference
to his rustic surroundings,
I had no difficulty in recognizing Lestrade,
of Scotland Yard.


with him we drove
to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged
for us."

I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea.

"I knew your energetic nature,
and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime."


"It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered.

"It is entirely a question of barometric pressure."


Lestrade looked startled.

"I do not quite follow," he said."

How is the glass?

Twenty-nine,
I see.

No wind,
and not a cloud in the sky.

I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking,
and the sofa is very much superior
to the usual country hotel abomination.

I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night."


Lestrade laughed indulgently.

"You have,
no doubt,
already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," he said.

"The case is as plain as a pikestaff,
and the more one goes in
to it the plainer it becomes.

Still,
of course,
one can't refuse a lady,
and such a very positive one,
too.

She has heard of you,
and would have your opinion,
though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done.

Why,
bless my soul!

here is her carriage at the door."


He had hardly spoken before there rushed in
to the room one of the most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life.

Her violet eyes shining,
her lips parted,
a pink flush upon her cheeks,
all thought of her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern."

Oh,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" she cried,
glancing from one
to the other of us,
and finally,

with a woman's quick intuition,
fastening upon my companion,
"I am so glad that you have come.

I have driven down
to tell you so.

I know that James didn't do it.

I know it,
and I want you
to start upon your work knowing it,
too.

Never let yourself doubt upon that point.

We have known each other since we were little children,
and I know his faults as no one else does;
but he is too tenderhearted
to hurt a fly.

Such a charge is absurd
to anyone who really knows him."


"I hope we may clear him,
Miss Turner," said Sherlock Holmes.

"You may rely upon my doing all that I can."


"But you have read the evidence.

You have formed some conclusion?

Do you not see some loophole,
some flaw?

Do you not yourself think that he is innocent?"


"I think that it is very probable."


"There,
now!" she cried,
throwing back her head and looking defiantly at Lestrade.

"You hear!

He gives me hopes."


Lestrade shrugged his shoulders.

"I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said."

But he is right.

Oh!

I know that he is right.

James never did it.

And about his quarrel
with his father,
I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it
to the coroner was because I was concerned in it."


"In what way?"

asked Holmes."

It is no time
for me
to hide anything.

James and his father had many disagreements about me.

Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us.

James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister;
but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet,
and--and--well,
he naturally did not wish
to do anything like that yet.

So there were quarrels,
and this,
I am sure,
was one of them."


"And your father?"

asked Holmes.

"Was he in favor of such a union?"


"No,
he was averse
to it also.

No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favor of it."

A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen,
questioning glances at her."

Thank you
for this information," said he.

"May I see your father if I call to-morrow?"


"I am afraid the doctor won't allow it."


"The doctor?"


"Yes,
have you not heard?

Poor father has never been strong
for years back,
but this has broken him down completely.

He has taken
to his bed,
and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nlervous system is shattered.

Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the old days in Victoria."


"Ha!

ln Victoria!

That is important."


"Yes,
at the mines."


"Quite so;
at the gold-mines,
where,
as I understand,
Mr. Turner made his money."


"Yes,
certainly."


"Thank you,
Miss Turner.

You have been of material assistance
to me."


"You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow.

No doubt you will go
to the prison
to see James.

Oh,
if you do,
Mr. Holmes,
do tell him that I know him
to be innocent."


"I will,
Miss Turner."


"I must go home now,

for dad is very ill,
and he misses me so if I leave him.

Good-bye,
and God help you in your undertaking."

She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered,
and we heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street."

I am ashamed of you,
Holmes," said Lestrade
with dignity after a few minutes' silence.

"Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound
to disappoint?

I am not over-tender of heart,
but I call it cruel."


"I think that I see my way
to clearing James McCarthy," said Holmes.

"Have you an order
to see him in prison?"


"Yes,
but only
for you and me."


"Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out.

We have still time
to take a train
to Hereford and see him to-night?"


"Ample."


"Then let us do so.

Watson,
I fear that you will find it very slow,
but I shall only be away a couple of hours."


I walked down
to the station
with them,
and then wandered through the streets of the little town,
finally returning
to the hotel,
where I lay upon the sofa and tried
to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel.

The puny plot of the story was so thin,
however,
when compared
to the deep mystery through which we were groping,
and I found my attention wander so continually from the action
to the fact,
that I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely
to a consideration of the events of the day.

Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were absolutely true,
then what hellish thing,
what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he parted from his father,
and the moment when drawn back by his screams,
he rushed in
to the glade?

It was something terrible and deadly.

What could it be?

Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something
to my medical instincts?

I rang the bell and called
for the weekly county paper,
which contained a verbatim account of the inquest.

In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone hail been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon.

I marked the spot upon my own head.

Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind.

That was
to some extent in favor of the accused,
as when seen quarrelling he was face
to face
with his father.

Still,
it did not go
for very much,

for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell.

Still,
it might be worth while
to call Holmes's attention
to it.

Then there was the peculiar dying reference
to a rat.

What could that mean?

It could not be delirium.

A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious.

No,
it was more likely
to be an attempt
to explain how he met his fate.

But what could it indicate?

I cudgelled my brains
to find some possible explanation.

And then the incident of the gray cloth seen by young McCarthy.

If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress,
presumably his overcoat,
in his flight,
and must have had the hardihood
to return and
to carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling
with his back turned not a dozen paces off.

What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was!

I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion,
and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes's insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed
to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy's innocence.It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned.

He came back alone,

for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town."

The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down.

"It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able
to go over the ground.

On the other hand,
a man should be at his very best and keenest
for such nice work as that,
and I did not wish
to do it when fagged by a long journey.

I have seen young McCarthy."


"And what did you learn from him?"


"Nothing."


"Could he throw no light?"


"None at all.

I was inclined
to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her,
but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else.

He is not a very quick-witted youth,
though comely
to look at and,
I should think,
sound at heart."


"I cannot admire his taste," I remarked,
"if it is indeed a fact that he was averse
to a marriage
with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner."


"Ah,
thereby hangs a rather painful tale.

This fellow is madly,
insanely,
in love
with her,
but some two years ago,
when he was only a lad,
and before he really knew her,

for she had been away five years at a boarding-school,
what does the idiot do but get in
to the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office?

No one knows a word of the matter,
but you can imagine how maddening it must be
to him
to be upbraided
for not doing what he would give his very eyes
to do,
but what he knows
to be absolutely impossible.

It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up in
to the air when his father,
at their last interview,
was goading him on
to propose
to Miss Turner.

On the other hand,
he had no means of supporting himself,
and his father,
who was by all accounts a very hard man,
would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth.

It was
with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in Bristol,
and his father did not know where he was.

Mark that point.

It is of importance.

Good has come out of evil,
however,

for the barmaid,
finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely
to be hanged,
has thrown him over utterly and has written
to him
to say that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard,
so that there is really no tie between them.

I think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy
for all that he has suffered."


"But if he is innocent,
who has done it?"


"Ah!

who?

I would call your attention very particularly
to two points.

One is that the murdered man had an appointment
with someone at the pool,
and that the someone could not have been his son,

for his son was away,
and he did not know when he would return.

The second is that the murdered man was heard
to cry 'Cooee!' before he knew that his son had returned.

Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends.

And now let us talk about George Meredith,
if you please,
and we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow."


There was no rain,
as Holmes had foretold,
and the morning broke bright and cloudless.

At nine o'clock Lestrade called
for us
with the carriage,
and we set off
for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool."

There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed.

"It is said that Mr. Turner,
of the Hall,
is so ill that his life is despaired of."


"An elderly man,
I presume?"

saild Holmes."

About sixty;
but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad,
and he has been in failing health
for some time.

This business has had a very bad effect upon him.

He was an old friend of McCarthy's,
and,
I may add,
a great benefactor
to him,

for I have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free."


"Indeed!

That is interesting," said Holmes."

Oh,
yes!

In a hundred other ways he has helped him.

Everybody about here speaks of his kindness
to him."


"Really!

Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy,
who appears
to have had little of his own,
and
to have been under such obligations
to Turner,
should still talk of marrying his son
to Turner's daughter,
who is,
presumably,
heiress
to the estate,
and that in such a very cocksure manner,
as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow?

It is the more strange,
since we know that Turner himself was averse
to the idea.

The daughter told us as much.

Do you not deduce something from that?"


"We have got
to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade,
winking at me.

"I find it hard enough
to tackle facts,
Holmes,
without flying away after theories and fancies."


"You are right," said Holmes demurely;
"you do find it very hard
to tackle the facts."


"Anyhow,
I have grasped one fact which you seem
to find it difficult
to get hold of," replied Lesbiade
with some warmth."

And that is--"
"That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all theories
to the contrary are the merest moonshine."


"Well,
moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes,
laughing.

"But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left."


"Yes,
that is it."

It was a widespread,
comfortable-looking building,
two-storied,
slate-roofed,

with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the gray walls.

The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys,
however,
gave it a stricken look,
as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it.

We called at the door,
when the maid,
at Holmes's request,
showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death,
and also a pair of the son's,
though not the pair which he had then had.

Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points,
Holmes desired
to be led
to the court-yard,
from which we all followed the winding track which led
to Boscombe Pool.Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this.

Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed
to recognize him.

His face flushed and darkened.

His brows were drawn in
to two hard black lines,
while his eyes shone out from beneath them
with a steely glitter.

His face was bent downward,
his shoulders bowed,
his lips compressed,
and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long,
sinewy neck.

His nostrils seemed
to dilate
with a purely animal lust
for the chase,
and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears,
or,
at the most,
only provoked a quick,
impatient snarl in reply.

Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track which ran through the meadows,
and so by way of the woods
to the Boscombe Pool.

It was damp,
marshy ground,
as is all that district,
and there were marks of many feet,
both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either side.

Sometimes Holmes would hurry on,
sometimes stop dead,
and once he made quite a little detour in
to the meadow.

Lestrade and I walked behind him,
the detective indifferent and contemptuous,
while I watched my friend
with the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end.The Boscombe Pool,
which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across,
is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner.

Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red,
jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling.

On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick,
and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees land the reeds which lined the lake.

Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found,
and,
indeed,
so moist was the ground,
that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man.


to Holmes,
as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes,
very many other things were
to be read upon the trampled grass.

He ran round,
like a dog who is picking up a scent,
and then turned upon my companion."

What did you go in
to the pool for?"

he asked."

I fished about
with a rake.

I thought there might be some weapon or other trace.

But how on earth--"
"Oh,
tut,
tut!

I have no time!

That left foot of yours
with its inward twist is all over the place.

A mole could trace it,
and there it vanishes among the reeds.

Oh,
how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it.

Here is where the party
with the lodge-keeper came,
and they have covered all tracks
for six or eight feet round the body.

But here are three separate tracks of the same feet."

He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof
to have a better view,
talking all the time rather
to himself than
to us.

"These are young McCarthy's feet.

Twice he was walking,
and once he ran swiftly,
so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible.

That bears out his story.

He ran when he saw his father on the ground.

Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down.

What is this,
then?

It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening.

And this?

Ha,
ha!

What have we here?

Tiptoes!

tiptoes!

Square,
too,
quite unusual boots!

They come,
they go,
they come again--of course that was
for the cloak.

Now where did they come from?"

He ran up and down,
sometimes losing,
sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech,
the largest tree in the neighborhood.

Holmes traced his way
to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face
with a little cry of satisfaction.


for a long time he remained there,
turning over the leaves and dried sticks,
gathering up what seemed
to me
to be dust in
to an envelope and examining
with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach.

A jagged stone was lying among the moss,
and this also he carefully examined and retained.

Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came
to the highroad,
where all traces were lost."

It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked,
returning
to his natural manner.

"I fancy that this gray house on the right must be the lodge.

I think that I will go in and have a word
with Moran,
and perhaps write a little note.

Having done that,
we may drive back
to our lunchebn.

You may walk
to the cab,
and I shall be
with you presently."


It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back in
to Ross,
Holmes still carrying
with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood."

This may interest you,
Lestrade," he remarked,
holding it out.

"The murder was done
with it."


"I see no marks."


"There are none."


"How do you know,
then?"


"The grass was growing under it.

It had only lain there a few days.

There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken.

It corresponds
with the injuries.

There is no sign of any other weapon."


"And the murderer?"


"Is a tall man,
left-handed,
limps
with the right leg,
wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a gray cloak,
smokes Indian cigars,
uses a cigar-holder,
and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket.

There are several other indications,
but these may be enough
to aid us in our search."


Lestrade laughed.

"I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he said.

"Theories are all very well,
but we have
to deal
with a hard-headed British jury."


"Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly.

"You work your own method,
and I shall work mine.

I shall be busy this afternoon,
and shall probably return
to London by the evening train."


"And leave your case unfinished?"


"No,
finished."


"But the mystery?"


"It is solved."


"Who was the criminal,
then?"


"The gentleman I describe."


"But who is he?"


"Surely it would not be difficult
to find out.

This is not such a populous neighborhood."


Lestrade shrugged his shoulders.

"I am a practical man," he said,
"and I really cannot undertake
to go about the country looking
for a left-handed gentleman
with a game leg.

I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard."


"All right," said Holmes quietly.

"I have given you the chance.

Here are your lodgings.

Good-bye.

I shall drop you a line before I leave."


Having left Lestrade at his rooms,
we drove
to our hotel,
where we found lunch upon the table.

Holmes was silent and buried in thought
with a pained expression upon his face,
as one who finds himself in a perplexing position."

Look here,
Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this chair and let me preach
to you
for a little.

I don't know quite what
to do,
and I should value your advice.

Light a cigar and let me expound."


"Pray do so."


"Well,
now,
in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly,
although they impressed me in his favor and you against him.

One was the fact that his father should,
according
to his account,
cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him.

The other was his singular dying reference
to a rat.

He mumbled several words,
you understand,
but that was all that caught the son's ear.

Now from this double point our research must commence,
and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true."


"What of this 'Cooee!' then?"


"Well,
obviously it could not have been meant
for the son.

The son,
as far as he knew,
was in Bristol.

It was mere chance that he was within earshot.

The 'Cooee!' was meant
to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with.

But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry,
and one which is used between Australians.

There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected
to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia."


"What of the rat,
then?"


Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the table.

"This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said.

"I wired
to Bristol
for it last night."

He put his hand over part of the map.

"What do you read?"


"ARAT," I read."

And now?"

He raised his hand."

BALLARAT."


"Quite so.

That was the word the man uttered,
and of which his son only caught the last two syllables.

He was trying
to utter the name of his murderer.

So and so,
of Ballarat."


"It is wonderful!" I exclaimed."

It is obvious.

And now,
you see,
I had narrowed the field down considerably.

The possession of a gray garment was a third point which,
granting the son's statement
to be correct,
was a certainty.

We have come now out of mere vagueness
to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat
with a gray cloak."


"Certainly."


"And one who was at home in the district,

for the pool can only be approached by the farm or by the estate,
where strangers could hardly wander."


"Quite so."


"Then comes our expedition of to-day.

By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave
to that imbecile Lestrade,
as
to the personality of the criminal."


"But how did you gain them?"


"You know my method.

It is founded upon the observation of trifles."


"His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his stride.

His boots,
too,
might be told from their traces."


"Yes,
they were peculiar boots."


"But his lameness?"


"The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left.

He put less weight upon it.

Why?

Because he limped--he was lame."


"But his left-handedness."


"You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest.

The blow was struck from immediately behind,
and yet was upon the left side.

Now,
how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man?

He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son.

He had even smoked there.

I found the ash of a cigar,
which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me
to pronounce as an Indian cigar.

I have,
as you know,
devoted some attention
to this,
and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe,
cigar,
and cigarette tobacco.

Having found the ash,
I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it.

It was an Indian cigar,
of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam."


"And the cigar-holder?"


"I could see that the end had not been in his mouth.

Therefore he used a holder.

The tip had been cut off,
not bitten off,
but the cut was not a clean one,
so I deduced a blunt pen-knife."


"Holmes," I said,
"you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape,
and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him.

I see the direction in which all this points.

The culprit is--"
"Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter,
opening the door of our sitting-room,
and ushering in a visitor.The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure.

His slow,
limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude,
and yet his hard,
deep-lined,
craggy features,
and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character.

His tangled beard,
grizzled hair,
and outstanding,
drooping eyebrows combined
to give an air of dignity and power
to his appearance,
but his face was of an ashen white,
while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged
with a shade of blue.

It was clear
to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease."

Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently.

"You had my note?"


"Yes,
the lodge-keeper brought it up.

You said that you wished
to see me here
to avoid scandal."


"I thought people would talk if I went
to the Hall."


"And why did you wish
to see me?"

He looked across at my companion
with despair in his weary eyes,
as though his question was already answered."

Yes," said Holmes,
answering the look rather than the words.

"It is so.

I know all about McCarthy."


The old man sank his face in his hands.

"God help me!" he cried.

"But I would not have let the young man come
to harm.

I give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes."


"I am glad
to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely."

I would have spoken now had it not been
for my dear girl.

It would break her heart--it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested."


"It may not come
to that," said Holmes."

What?"


"I am no official agent.

I understand that it was your daughter who required my presence here,
and I am acting in her interests.

Young McCarthy must be got off,
however."


"I am a dying man," said old Turner.

"I have had diabetes
for years.

My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month.

Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a jail."


Holmes rose and sat down at the table
with his pen in his hand and a bundle of paper before him.

"Just tell us the truth," he said.

"I shall jot down the facts.

You will sign it,
and Watson here can witness it.

Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity
to save young McCarthy.

I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed."


"It's as well," said the old man;
"it's a question whether I shall live
to the Assizes,
so it matters little
to me,
but I should wish
to spare Alice the shock.

And now I will make the thing clear
to you;
it has been a long time in the acting,
but will not take me long
to tell."

You didn't know this dead man,
McCarthy.

He was a devil incarnate.

I tell you that.

God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he.

His grip has been upon me these twenty years,
and he has blasted my life.

I'll tell you first how I came
to be in his power."

It was in the early '60's at the diggings.

I was a young chap then,
hot-blooded and reckless,
ready
to turn my hand at anything;
I got among bad companions,
took
to drink,
had no luck
with my claim,
took
to the bush,
and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber.

There were six of us,
and we had a wild,
free life of it,
sticking up a station from time
to time,
or stopping the wagons on the road
to the diggings.

Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under,
and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang."

One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat
to Melbourne,
and we lay in wait
for it and attacked it.

There were six troopers and six of us,
so it was a close thing,
but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley.

Three of our boys were killed,
however,
before we got the swag.

I put my pistol
to the head of the wagon-driver,
who was this very man McCarthy.

I wish
to the Lord that I had shot him then,
but I spared him,
though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face,
as though
to remember every feature.

We got away
with the gold,
became wealthy men,
and made our way over
to England without being suspected.

There I parted from my old pals and determined
to settle down
to a quiet and respectable life.

I bought this estate,
which chanced
to be in the market,
and I set myself
to do a little good
with my money,

to make up
for the way in which I had earned it.

I married,
too,
and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice.

Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed
to lead me down the right path as nothing else had ever done.

In a word,
I turned over a new leaf and did my best
to make up
for the past.

All was going well when McCarthy laid hls grip upon me."

I had gone up
to town about an investment,
and I met him in Regent Street
with hardly a coat
to his back or a boot
to his foot."

'Here we are,
Jack,' says he,
touching me on the arm;
'we'll be as good as a family
to you.

There's two of us,
me and my son,
and you can have the keeping of us.

If you don't--it's a fine,
law-abiding country is England,
and there's always a policeman within hail.'
"Well,
down they came
to the west country,
there was no shaking them off,
and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since.

There was no rest
for me,
no peace,
no forgetfulness;
turn where I would,
there was his cunning,
grinning face at my elbow.

It grew worse as Alice grew up,

for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police.

Whatever he wanted he must have,
and whatever it was I gave him without question,
land,
money,
houses,
until at last he asked a thing which I could not give.

He asked
for Alice."

His son,
you see,
had grown up,
and so had my girl,
and as I was known
to be in weak health,
it seemed a fine stroke
to him that his lad should step in
to the whole property.

But there I was firm.

I would not have his cursed stock mixed
with mine;
not that I had any dislike
to the lad,
but his blood was in him,
and that was enough.

I stood firm.

McCarthy threatened.

I braved him
to do his worst.

We were
to meet at the pool midway between our houses
to talk it over."

When we went down there I found him talking
with his son,
so smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone.

But as I listened
to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed
to come uppermost.

He was urging his son
to marry my daughter
with as little regard
for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets.

It drove me mad
to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a man as this.

Could I not snap the bond?

I was already a dying and a desperate man.

Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb,
I knew that my own fate was sealed.

But my memory and my girl!

Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue.

I did it,
Mr. Holmes.

I would do it again.

Deeply as I have sinned,
I have led a life of martyrdom
to atone
for it.

But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer.

I struck him down
with no more compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast.

His cry brought back his son;
but I had gained the cover of the wood,
though I was forced
to go back
to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight.

That is the true story,
gentlemen,
of all that occurred."


"Well,
it is not
for me
to judge you," said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out.

"I pray that we may never be exposed
to such a temptation."


"I pray not,
sir.

And what do you intend
to do?"


"In view of your health,
nothing.

You are yourself aware that you will soon have
to answer
for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes.

I will keep your confession,
and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced
to use it.

If not,
it shall never be seen by mortal eye;
and your secret,
whether you be alive or dead,
shall be safe
with us."


"Farewell,
then," said the old man solemnly.

"Your own deathbeds,
when they come,
will be the easier
for the thought of the peace which you have given
to mine."

Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame,
he stumbled slowly from the room."

God help us!" said Holmes after a long silence.

"Why does fate play such tricks
with poor,
helpless worms?

I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words,
and say,
'There,
but
for the grace of God,
goes Sherlock Holmes.'"
James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted
to the defending counsel.

Old Turner lived
for seven months after our interview,
but he is now dead;
and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come
to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past.


ADVENTURE V.

THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS
When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years '82 and '90,
I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter
to know which
to choose and which
to leave.

Some,
however,
have already gained publicity through the papers,
and others have not offered a field
for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree,
and which it is the object of these papers
to illustrate.

Some,
too,
have baffled his analytical skill,
and would be,
as narratives,
beginnings without an ending,
while others have been but partially cleared up,
and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear
to him.

There is,
however,
one of these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted
to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection
with it which never have been,
and probably never will be,
entirely cleared up.The year '87 furnished us
with a long series of cases of greater or less interest,
of which I retain the records.

Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol Chamber,
of the Amateur Mendicant Society,
who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse,
of the facts connected
with the loss of the British bark Sophy Anderson,
of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa,
and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case.

In the latter,
as may be remembered,
Sherlock Holmes was able,
by winding up the dead man's watch,

to prove that it had been wound up two hours before,
and that therefore the deceased had gone
to bed within that time--a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case.

All these I may sketch out at some future date,
but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen
to describe.It was in the latter days of September,
and the equinoctial gales had set in
with exceptional violence.

All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows,
so that even here in the heart of great,
hand-made London we were forced
to raise our minds
for the instant from the routine of life and
to recognize the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilization,
like untamed beasts in a cage.

As evening drew in,
the storm grew higher and louder,
and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney.

Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime,
while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed
to blend
with the text,
and the splash of the rain
to lengthen out in
to the long swash of the sea waves.

My wife was on a visit
to her mother's,
and
for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street."

Why," said I,
glancing up at my companion,
"that was surely the bell.

Who could come to-night?

Some friend of yours,
perhaps?"


"Except yourself I have none," he answered.

"I do not encourage visitors."


"A client,
then?"


"If so,
it is a serious case.

Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour.

But I take it that it is more likely
to be some crony of the landlady's."


Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture,
however,

for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door.

He stretched out his long arm
to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit."

Come in!" said he.The man who entered was young,
some two-and-twenty at the outside,
well-groomed and trimly clad,

with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing.

The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand,
and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he had come.

He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp,
and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy,
like those of a man who is weighed down
with some great anxiety."

I owe you an apology," he said,
raising his golden pince-nez
to his eyes.

"I trust that I am not intruding.

I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain in
to your snug chamber."


"Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes.

"They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently.

You have come up from the south-west,
I see."


"Yes,
from Horsham."


"That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive."


"I have come
for advice."


"That is easily got."


"And help."


"That is not always so easy."


"I have heard of you,
Mr. Holmes.

I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal."


"Ah,
of course.

He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards."


"He said that you could solve anything."


"He said too much."


"That you are never beaten."


"I have been beaten four times--three times by men,
and once by a woman."


"But what is that compared
with the number of your successes?"


"It is true that I have been generally successful."


"Then you may be so
with me."


"I beg that you will draw your chair up
to the fire and favor me
with some details as
to your case."


"It is no ordinary one."


"None of those which come
to me are.

I am the last court of appeal."


"And yet I question,
sir,
whether,
in all your experience,
you have ever listened
to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which have happened in my own family."


"You fill me
with interest," said Holmes.

"Pray give us the essential facts from the commencement,
and I can afterwards question you as
to those details which seem
to me
to be most important."


The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards the blaze."

My name," said he,
"is John Openshaw,
but my own affairs have,
as far as I can understand,
little
to do
with this awful business.

It is a hereditary matter;
so in order
to give you an idea of the facts,
I must go back
to the commencement of the affair."

You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle Elias and my father Joseph.

My father had a small factory at Coventry,
which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling.

He was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire,
and his business met
with such success that he was able
to sell it and
to retire upon a handsome competence."

My uncle Elias emigrated
to America when he was a young man and became a planter in Florida,
where he was reported
to have done very well.

At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army,
and afterwards under Hood,
where he rose
to be a colonel.

When Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned
to his plantation,
where he remained
for three or four years.

About 1869 or 1870 he came back
to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex,
near Horsham.

He had made a very considerable fortune in the States,
and his reason
for leaving them was his aversion
to the negroes,
and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise
to them.

He was a singular man,
fierce and quick-tempered,
very foul-mouthed when he was angry,
and of a most retiring disposition.

During all the years that he lived at Horsham,
I doubt if ever he set foot in the town.

He had a garden and two or three fields round his house,
and there he would take his exercise,
though very often
for weeks on end he would never leave his room.

He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily,
but he would see no society and did not want any friends,
not even his own brother."

He didn't mind me;
in fact,
he took a fancy
to me,

for at the time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so.

This would be in the year 1878,
after he had been eight or nine years in England.

He begged my father
to let me live
with him and he was very kind
to me in his way.

When he was sober he used
to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts
with me,
and he would make me his representative both
with the servants and
with the tradespeople,
so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite master of the house.

I kept all the keys and could go where I liked and do what I liked,
so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy.

There was one singular exception,
however,

for he had a single room,
a lumber-room up among the attics,
which was invariably locked,
and which he would never permit either me or anyone else
to enter.


with a boy's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole,
but I was never able
to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room."

One day--it was in March,
1883--a letter
with a foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate.

It was not a common thing
for him
to receive letters,

for his bills were all paid in ready money,
and he had no friends of any sort.

'From India!' said he as he took it up,
'Pondicherry postmark!

What can this be?' Opening it hurriedly,
out there jumped five little dried orange pips,
which pattered down upon his plate.

I began
to laugh at this,
but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of his face.

His lip had fallen,
his eyes were protruding,
his skin the color of putty,
and he glared at the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand,
'K.

K.

K.!' he shrieked,
and then,
'My God,
my God,
my sins have overtaken me!'
"'What is it,
uncle?' I cried."

'Death,' said he,
and rising from the table he retired
to his room,
leaving me palpitating
with horror.

I took up the envelope and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap,
just above the gum,
the letter K three times repeated.

There was nothing else save the five dried pips.

What could be the reason of his overpowering terror?

I left the breakfast-table,
and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down
with an old rusty key,
which must have belonged
to the attic,
in one hand,
and a small brass box,
like a cashbox,
in the other."

'They may do what they like,
but I'll checkmate them still,' said he
with an oath.

'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day,
and send down
to Fordham,
the Horsham lawyer.'
"I did as he ordered,
and when the lawyer arrived I was asked
to step up
to the room.

The fire was burning brightly,
and in the grate there was a mass of black,
fluffy ashes,
as of burned paper,
while the brass box stood open and empty beside it.

As I glanced at the box I noticed,

with a start,
that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope."

'I wish you,
John,' said my uncle,
'
to witness my will.

I leave my estate,

with all its advantages and all its disadvantages,

to my brother,
your father,
whence it will,
no doubt,
descend
to you.

If you can enjoy it in peace,
well and good!

If you find you cannot,
take my advice,
my boy,
and leave it
to your deadliest enemy.

I am sorry
to give you such a two-edged thing,
but I can't say what turn things are going
to take.

Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.'
"I signed the paper as directed,
and the lawyer took it away
with him.

The singular incident made,
as you may think,
the deepest impression upon me,
and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind without being able
to make anything of it.

Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left behind,
though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened
to disturb the usual routine of our lives.

I could see a change in my uncle,
however.

He drank more than ever,
and he was less inclined
for any sort of society.

Most of his time he would spend in his room,

with the door locked upon the inside,
but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden
with a revolver in his hand,
screaming out that he was afraid of no man,
and that he was not
to be cooped up,
like a sheep in a pen,
by man or devil.

When these hot fits were over however,
he would rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him,
like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul.

At such times I have seen his face,
even on a cold day,
glisten
with moisture,
as though it were new raised from a basin."

Well,

to come
to an end of the matter,
Mr. Holmes,
and not
to abuse your patience,
there came a night when he made one of those drunken sallies from which he never came back.

We found him,
when we went
to search
for him,
face downward in a little green-scummed pool,
which lay at the foot of the garden.

There was no sign of any violence,
and the water was but two feet deep,
so that the jury,
having regard
to his known eccentricity,
brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I,
who knew how he winced from the very thought of death,
had much ado
to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way
to meet it.

The matter passed,
however,
and my father entered in
to possession of the estate,
and of some 14,000 pounds,
which lay
to his credit at the bank."


"One moment," Holmes interposed,
"your statement is,
I foresee,
one of the most remarkable
to which I have ever listened.

Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter,
and the date of his supposed suicide."


"The letter arrived on March 10,
1883.

His death was seven weeks later,
upon the night of May 2d."


"Thank you.

Pray proceed."


"When my father took over the Horsham property,
he,
at my request,
made a careful examination of the attic,
which had been always locked up.

We found the brass box there,
although its contents had been destroyed.

On the inside of the cover was a paper label,

with the initials of K.

K.

K.

repeated upon it,
and 'Letters,
memoranda,
receipts,
and a register' written beneath.

These,
we presume,
indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw.


for the rest,
there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in America.

Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier.

Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states,
and were mostly concerned
with politics,

for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North."

Well,
it was the beginning of '84 when my father came
to live at Horsham,
and all went as well as possible
with us until the January of '85.

On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table.

There he was,
sitting
with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one.

He had always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel,
but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself."

'Why,
what on earth does this mean,
John?' he stammered."

My heart had turned
to lead.

'It is K.

K.

K.,' said I."

He looked inside the envelope.

'So it is,' he cried.

'Here are the very letters.

But what is this written above them?'
"'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read,
peeping over his shoulder."

'What papers?

What sundial?' he asked."

'The sundial in the garden.

There is no other,' said I;
'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.'
"'Pooh!' said he,
gripping hard at his courage.

'We are in a civilized land here,
and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind.

Where does the thing come from?'
"'From Dundee,' I answered,
glancing at the postmark."

'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he.

'What have I
to do
with sundials and papers?

I shall take no notice of such nonsense.'
"'I should certainly speak
to the police,' I said."

'And be laughed at
for my pains.

Nothing of the sort.'
"'Then let me do so?'
"'No,
I forbid you.

I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.'
"It was in vain
to argue
with him,

for he was a very obstinate man.

I went about,
however,

with a heart which was full of forebodings."

On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from home
to visit an old friend of his,
Major Freebody,
who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill.

I was glad that he should go,

for it seemed
to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home.

In that,
however,
I was in error.

Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram from the major,
imploring me
to come at once.

My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the neighborhood,
and was lying senseless,

with a shattered skull.

I hurried
to him,
but he passed away without having ever recovered his consciousness.

He had,
as it appears,
been returning from Fareham in the twilight,
and as the country was unknown
to him,
and the chalk-pit unfenced,
the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected
with his death,
I was unable
to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder.

There were no signs of violence,
no footmarks,
no robbery,
no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads.

And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease,
and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him."

In this sinister way I came in
to my inheritance.

You will ask me why I did not dispose of it?

I answer,
because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle's life,
and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another."

It was in January,
'85,
that my poor father met his end,
and two years and eight months have elapsed since then.

During that time I have lived happily at Horsham,
and I had begun
to hope that this curse had passed way from the family,
and that it had ended
with the last generation.

I had begun
to take comfort too soon,
however;
yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my father."


The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope,
and turning
to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips."

This is the envelope," he continued.

"The postmark is London--eastern division.

Within are the very words which were upon my father's last message:

'K.

K.

K.';
and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'"
"What have you done?"

asked Holmes."

Nothing."


"Nothing?"


"
to tell the truth"--he sank his face in
to his thin,
white hands--"I have felt helpless.

I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it.

I seem
to be in the grasp of some resistless,
inexorable evil,
which no foresight and no precautions can guard against."


"Tut!

tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes.

"You must act,
man,
or you are lost.

Nothing but energy can save you.

This is no time
for despair."


"I have seen the police."


"Ah!"
"But they listened
to my story
with a smile.

I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes,
and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents,
as the jury stated,
and were not
to be connected
with the warnings."


Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air.

"Incredible imbecility!" he cried."

They have,
however,
allowed me a policeman,
who may remain in the house
with me."


"Has he come
with you to-night?"


"No.

His orders were
to stay in the house."


Again Holmes raved in the air."

Why did you come
to me," he cried,
"and,
above all,
why did you not come at once?"


"I did not know.

It was only to-day that I spoke
to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him
to come
to you."


"It is really two days since you had the letter.

We should have acted before this.

You have no further evidence,
I suppose,
than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?"


"There is one thing," said John Openshaw.

He rummaged in his coat pocket,
and,
drawing out a piece of discolored,
blue-tinted paper,
he laid it out upon the table.

"I have some remembrance," said he,
"that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small,
unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular color.

I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room,
and I am inclined
to think that it may be one of the papers which has,
perhaps,
fluttered out from among the others,
and in that way has escaped destruction.

Beyond the mention of pips,
I do not see that it helps us much.

I think myself that it is a page from some private diary.

The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's."


Holmes moved the lamp,
and we both bent over the sheet of paper,
which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book.

It was headed,
"March,
1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical notices:
4th.

Hudson came.

Same old platform.7th.

Set the pips on McCauley,
Paramore,
and John Swain,
of St.

Augustine.9th.

McCauley cleared.10th.

John Swain cleared.12th.

Visited Paramore.

All well."

Thank you!" said Holmes,
folding up the paper and returning it
to our visitor.

"And now you must on no account lose another instant.

We cannot spare time even
to discuss what you have told me.

You must get home instantly and act."


"What shall I do?"


"There is but one thing
to do.

It must be done at once.

You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us in
to the brass box which you have described.

You must also put in a note
to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle,
and that this is the only one which remains.

You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction
with them.

Having done this,
you must at once put the box out upon the sundial,
as directed.

Do you understand?"


"Entirely."


"Do not think of revenge,
or anything of the sort,
at present.

I think that we may gain that by means of the law;
but we have our web
to weave,
while theirs is already woven.

The first consideration is
to remove the pressing danger which threatens you.

The second is
to clear up the mystery and
to punish the guilty parties."


"I thank you," said the young man,
rising and pulling on his overcoat.

"You have given me fresh life and hope.

I shall certainly do as you advise."


"Do not lose an instant.

And,
above all,
take care of yourself in the meanwhile,

for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger.

How do you go back?
"By train from Waterloo."


"It is not yet nine.

The streets will be crowded,
so I trust that you may be in safety.

And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely."


"I am armed."


"That is well.

To-morrow I shall set
to work upon your case."


"I shall see you at Horsham,
then?"


"No,
your secret lies in London.

It is there that I shall seek it."


"Then I shall call upon you in a day,
or in two days,

with news as
to the box and the papers.

I shall take your advice in every particular."

He shook hands
with us and took his leave.

Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows.

This strange,
wild story seemed
to have come
to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale--and now
to have been reabsorbed by them once more.Sherlock Holmes sat
for some time in silence,

with his head sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire.

Then he lit his pipe,
and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up
to the ceiling."

I think,
Watson," he remarked at last,
"that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this."


"Save,
perhaps,
the Sign of Four."


"Well,
yes.

Save,
perhaps,
that.

And yet this John Openshaw seems
to me
to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos."


"But have you," I asked,
"formed any definite conception as
to what these perils are?"


"There can be no question as
to their nature," he answered."

Then what are they?

Who is this K.

K.

K.,
and why does he pursue this unhappy family?"


Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of his chair,

with his finger-tips together.

"The ideal reasoner," he remarked,
"would,
when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings,
deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up
to it but also all the results which would follow from it.

As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone,
so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able
to accurately state all the other ones,
both before and after.

We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to.

Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses.


to carry the art,
however,

to its highest pitch,
it is necessary that the reasoner should be able
to utilize all the facts which have come
to his knowledge;
and this in itself implies,
as you will readily see,
a possession of all knowledge,
which,
even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias,
is a somewhat rare accomplishment.

It is not so impossible,
however,
that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely
to be useful
to him in his work,
and this I have endeavored in my case
to do.

If I remember rightly,
you on one occasion,
in the early days of our friendship,
defined my limits in a very precise fashion."


"Yes," I answered,
laughing.

"It was a singular document.

Philosophy,
astronomy,
and politics were marked at zero,
I remember.

Botany variable,
geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town,
chemistry eccentric,
anatomy unsystematic,
sensational literature and crime records unique,
violin-player,
boxer,
swordsman,
lawyer,
and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco.

Those,
I think,
were the main points of my analysis."


Holmes grinned at the last item.

"Well," he said,
"I say now,
as I said then,
that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked
with all the furniture that he is likely
to use,
and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library,
where he can get it if he wants it.

Now,

for such a case as the one which has been submitted
to us to-night,
we need certainly
to muster all our resources.

Kindly hand me down the letter K of the American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you.

Thank you.

Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it.

In the first place,
we may start
with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason
for leaving America.

Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida
for the lonely life of an English provincial town.

His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something,
so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from America.

As
to what it was he feared,
we can only deduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and his successors.

Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?"


"The first was from Pondicherry,
the second from Dundee,
and the third from London."


"From East London.

What do you deduce from that?"


"They are all seaports.

That the writer was on board of a ship."


"Excellent.

We have already a clew.

There can be no doubt that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board of a ship.

And now let us consider another point.

In the case of Pondicherry,
seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfillment,
in Dundee it was only some three or four days.

Does that suggest anything?"


"A greater distance
to travel."


"But the letter had also a greater distance
to come."


"Then I do not see the point."


"There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing-ship.

It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission.

You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee.

If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter.

But,
as a matter of fact,
seven weeks elapsed.

I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mailboat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer."


"It is possible."


"More than that.

It is probable.

And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case,
and why I urged young Openshaw
to caution.

The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders
to travel the distance.

But this one comes from London,
and therefore we cannot count upon delay."


"Good God!" I cried.

"What can it mean,
this relentless persecution?"


"The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance
to the person or persons in the sailing-ship.

I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them.

A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as
to deceive a coroner's jury.

There must have been several in it,
and they must have been men of resource and determination.

Their papers they mean
to have,
be the holder of them who it may.

In this way you see K.

K.

K.

ceases
to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society."


"But of what society?"


"Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes,
bending forward and sinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"


"I never have."


Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee.

"Here it is," said he presently:
"Ku Klux Klan.

A name derived from the fanciful resemblance
to the sound produced by cocking a rifle.

This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War,
and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country,
notably in Tennessee,
Louisiana,
the Carolinas,
Georgia,
and Florida.

Its power was used
for political purposes,
principally
for the terrorizing of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who were opposed
to its views.

Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent
to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognized shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts,
melon seeds or orange pips in others.

On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure his former ways,
or might fly from the country.

If he braved the matter out,
death would unfailingly come upon him,
and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner.

So perfect was the organization of the society,
and so systematic its methods,
that there is hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it
with impunity,
or in which any of its outrages were traced home
to the perpetrators.


for some years the organization flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the community in the South.

Eventually,
in the year 1869,
the movement rather suddenly collapsed,
although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date."

You will observe," said Holmes,
laying down the volume,
"that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident
with the disappearance of Openshaw from America
with their papers.

It may well have been cause and effect.

It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track.

You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the South,
and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered."


"Then the page we have seen--"
"Is such as we might expect.

It ran,
if I remember right,
'sent the pips
to A,
B,
and C'--that is,
sent the society's warning
to them.

Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared,
or left the country,
and finally that C was visited,
with,
I fear,
a sinister result
for C.

Well,
I think,
Doctor,
that we may let some light in
to this dark place,
and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is
to do what I have told him.

There is nothing more
to be said or
to be done to-night,
so hand me over my violin and let us try
to forget
for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow-men."


It had cleared in the morning,
and the sun was shining
with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city.

Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down."

You will excuse me
for not waiting
for you," said he;
"I have,
I foresee,
a very busy day before me in looking in
to this case of young Openshaw's."


"What steps will you take?"

I asked."

It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries.

I may have
to go down
to Horsham,
after all."


"You will not go there first?"


"No,
I shall commence
with the City.

Just ring the bell and the maid will bring up your coffee."


As I waited,
I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it.

It rested upon a heading which sent a chill
to my heart."

Holmes," I cried,
"you are too late."


"Ah!" said he,
laying down his cup,
"I feared as much.

How was it done?"

He spoke calmly,
but I could see that he was deeply moved."

My eye caught the name of Openshaw,
and the heading 'Tragedy Near Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:
"Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook,
of the H Division,
on duty near Waterloo Bridge,
heard a cry
for help and a splash in the water.

The night,
however,
was extremely dark and stormy,
so that,
in spite of the help of several passers-by,
it was quite impossible
to effect a rescue.

The alarm,
however,
was given,
and,
by the aid of the water-police,
the body was eventually recovered.

It proved
to be that of a young gentleman whose name,
as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket,
was John Openshaw,
and whose residence is near Horsham.

It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down
to catch the last train from Waterloo Station,
and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places
for river steamboats.

The body exhibited no traces of violence,
and there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident,
which should have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities
to the condition of the riverside landing-stages."


We sat in silence
for some minutes,
Holmes more depressed and shaken than I had ever seen him."

That hurts my pride,
Watson," he said at last.

"It is a petty feeling,
no doubt,
but it hurts my pride.

It becomes a personal matter
with me now,
and,
if God sends me health,
I shall set my hand upon this gang.

That he should come
to me
for help,
and that I should send him away
to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation,

with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands."

They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last.

"How could they have decoyed him down there?

The Embankment is not on the direct line
to the station.

The bridge,
no doubt,
was too crowded,
even on such a night,

for their purpose.

Well,
Watson,
we shall see who will win in the long run.

I am going out now!"
"
to the police?"


"No;
I shall be my own police.

When I have spun the web they may take the flies,
but not before."


All day I was engaged in my professional work,
and it was late in the evening before I returned
to Baker Street.

Sherlock Holmes had not come back yet.

It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered,
looking pale and worn.

He walked up
to the sideboard,
and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously,
washing it down
with a long draught of water."

You are hungry," I remarked."

Starving.

It had escaped my memory.

I have had nothing since breakfast."


"Nothing?"


"Not a bite.

I had no time
to think of it."


"And how have you succeeded?"


"Well."


"You have a clew?"


"I have them in the hollow of my hand.

Young Openshaw shall not long remain unavenged.

Why,
Watson,
let us put their own devilish trade-mark upon them.

It is well thought of!"
"What do you mean?"


He took an orange from the cupboard,
and tearing it
to pieces he squeezed out the pips upon the table.

Of these he took five and thrust them in
to an envelope.

On the inside of the flap he wrote "S.

H.


for J.

0."

Then he sealed it and addressed it
to "Captain James Calhoun,
Bark Lone Star,
Savannah,
Georgia."


"That will await him when he enters port," said he,
chuckling.

"It may give him a sleepless night.

He will find it as sure a precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him."


"And who is this Captain Calhoun?"


"The leader of the gang.

I shall have the others,
but he first."


"How did you trace it,
then?"


He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket,
all covered
with dates and names."

I have spent the whole day," said he,
"over Lloyd's registers and files of the old papers,
following the future career of every vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in '83.

There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months.

Of these,
one,
the Lone Star,
instantly attracted my attention,
since,
although it was reported as having cleared from London,
the name is that which is given
to one of the states of the Union."


"Texas,
I think."


"I was not and am not sure which;
but I knew that the ship must have an American origin."


"What then?"


"I searched the Dundee records,
and when I found that the bark Lone Star was there in January,
'85,
my suspicion became a certainty.

I then inquired as
to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London."


"Yes?"


"The Lone Star had arrived here last week.

I went down
to the Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning,
homeward bound
to Savannah.

I wired
to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago,
and as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight."


"What will you do,
then?"


"Oh,
I have my hand upon him.

He and the two mates,
are as I learn,
the only native-born Americans in the ship.

The others are Finns and Germans.

I know,
also,
that they were all three away from the ship last night.

I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo.

By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter,
and the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder."


There is ever a flaw,
however,
in the best laid of human plans,
and the murderers of John Openshaw were never
to receive the orange pips which would show them that another,
as cunning and as resolute as themselves,
was upon their track.

Very long and very severe were the equinoctial gales that year.

We waited long
for news of the Lone Star of Savannah,
but none ever reached us.

We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of the boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave,

with the letters "L.

S."

carved upon it,
and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the Lone Star.


ADVENTURE VI.

THE MAN
WITH THE TWISTED LIP
Isa Whitney,
brother of the late Elias Whitney,
D.D.,
Principal of the Theological College of St.

George's,
was much addicted
to opium.

The habit grew upon him,
as I understand,
from some foolish freak when he was at college;

for having read De Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations,
he had drenched his tobacco
with laudanum in an attempt
to produce the same effects.

He found,
as so many more have done,
that the practice is easier
to attain than
to get rid of,
and
for many years he continued
to be a slave
to the drug,
an object of mingled horror and pity
to his friends and relatives.

I can see him now,

with yellow,
pasty face,
drooping lids,
and pin-point pupils,
all huddled in a chair,
the wreck and ruin of a noble man.One night--it was in June,
'89--there came a ring
to my bell,
about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock.

I sat up in my chair,
and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment."

A patient!" said she.

"You'll have
to go out."


I groaned,

for I was newly come back from a weary day.We heard the door open,
a few hurried words,
and then quick steps upon the linoleum.

Our own door flew open,
and a lady,
clad in some dark-colored stuff,

with a black veil,
entered the room."

You will excuse my calling so late," she began,
and then,
suddenly losing her self-control,
she ran forward,
threw her arms about my wife's neck,
and sobbed upon her shoulder.

"Oh,
I'm in such trouble!" she cried;
"I do so want a little help."


"Why," said my wife,
pulling up her veil,
"it is Kate Whitney.

How you startled me,
Kate!

I had not an idea who you were when you came in."


"I didn't know what
to do,
so l came straight
to you."

That was always the way.

Folk who were in grief came
to my wife like birds
to a light-house."

It was very sweet of you
to come.

Now,
you must have some wine and water,
and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it.

Or should you rather that I sent James off
to bed?"


"Oh,
no,
no!

I want the doctor's advice and help,
too.

It's about Isa.

He has not been home
for two days.

I am so frightened about him!"
It was not the first time that she had spoken
to us of her husband's trouble,

to me as a doctor,

to my wife as an old friend and school companion.

We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find.

Did she know where her husband was?

Was it possible that we could bring him back
to her?
It seems that it was.

She had the surest information that of late he had,
when the fit was on him,
made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City.

Hither
to his orgies had always been confined
to one day,
and he had come back,
twitching and shattered,
in the evening.

But now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours,
and he lay there,
doubtless among the dregs of the docks,
breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects.

There he was
to be found,
she was sure of it,
at the Bar of Gold,
in Upper Swandam Lane.

But what was she
to do?

How could she,
a young and timid woman,
make her way in
to such a place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him?
There was the case,
and of course there was but one way out of it.

Might I not escort her
to this place?

And then,
as a second thought,
why should she come at all?

I was Isa Whitney's medical adviser,
and as such I had influence over him.

I could manage it better if I were alone.

I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me.

And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me,
and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand,
as it seemed
to me at the time,
though the future only could show how strange it was
to be.But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure.

Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river
to the east of London Bridge.

Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop,
approached by a steep flight of steps leading down
to a black gap like the mouth of a cave,
I found the den of which I was in search.

Ordering my cab
to wait,
I passed down the steps,
worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet;
and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made my way in
to a long,
low room,
thick and heavy
with the brown opium smoke,
and terraced
with wooden berths,
like the forecastle of an emigrant ship.Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange fantastic poses,
bowed shoulders,
bent knees,
heads thrown back,
and chins pointing upward,

with here and there a dark,
lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer.

Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light,
now bright,
now faint,
as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes.

The most lay silent,
but some muttered
to themselves,
and others talked together in a strange,
low,
monotonous voice,
their conversation coming in gushes,
and then suddenly tailing off in
to silence,
each mumbling out his own thoughts and paying little heed
to the words of his neighbor.

At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal,
beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall,
thin old man,

with his jaw resting upon his two fists,
and his elbows upon his knees,
staring in
to the fire.As I entered,
a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up
with a pipe
for me and a supply of the drug,
beckoning me
to an empty berth."

Thank you.

I have not come
to stay," said I.

"There is a friend of mine here,
Mr. Isa Whitney,
and I wish
to speak
with him."


There was a movement and an exclamation from my right,
and peering through the gloom I saw Whitney,
pale,
haggard,
and unkempt,
staring out at me."

My God!

It's Watson," said he.

He was in a pitiable state of reaction,

with every nerve in a twitter.

"I say,
Watson,
what o'clock is it?"


"Nearly eleven."


"Of what day?"


"Of Friday,
June 19th."


"Good heavens!

I thought it was Wednesday.

It is Wednesday.

What d'you want
to frighten the chap for?"

He sank his face on
to his arms and began
to sob in a high treble key."

I tell you that it is Friday,
man.

Your wife has been waiting this two days
for you.

You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"So I am.

But you've got mixed,
Watson,

for I have only been here a few hours,
three pipes,
four pipes--I forget how many.

But I'll go home
with you.

I wouldn't frighten Kate--poor little Kate.

Give me your hand!

Have you a cab?"


"Yes,
I have one waiting."


"Then I shall go in it.

But I must owe something.

Find what I owe,
Watson.

I am all off color.

I can do nothing
for myself."


I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers,
holding my breath
to keep out the vile,
stupefying fumes of the drug,
and looking about
for the manager.

As I passed the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt,
and a low voice whispered,
"Walk past me,
and then look back at me."

The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear.

I glanced down.

They could only have come from the old man at my side,
and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever,
very thin,
very wrinkled,
bent
with age,
an opium pipe dangling down from between his knees,
as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his fingers.

I took two steps forward and looked back.

It took all my self-control
to prevent me from breaking out in
to a cry of astonishment.

He had turned his back so that none could see him but I.

His form had filled out,
his wrinkles were gone,
the dull eyes had regained their fire,
and there,
sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise,
was none other than Sherlock Holmes.

He made a slight motion
to me
to approach him,
and instantly,
as he turned his face half round
to the company once more,
subsided in
to a doddering,
loose-lipped senility."

Holmes!" I whispered,
"what on earth are you doing in this den?"


"As low as you can," he answered;
"I have excellent ears.

If you would have the great kindness
to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I should be exceedingly glad
to have a little talk
with you."


"I have a cab outside."


"Then pray send him home in it.

You may safely trust him,

for he appears
to be too limp
to get in
to any mischief.

I should recommend you also
to send a note by the cabman
to your wife
to say that you have thrown in your lot
with me.

If you will wait outside,
I shall be
with you in five minutes."


It was difficult
to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes's requests,

for they were always so exceedingly definite,
and put forward
with such a quiet air of mastery.

I felt,
however,
that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished;
and
for the rest,
I could not wish anything better than
to be associated
with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence.

In a few minutes I had written my note,
paid Whitney's bill,
led him out
to the cab,
and seen him driven through the darkness.

In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den,
and I was walking down the street
with Sherlock Holmes.


for two streets he shuffled along
with a bent back and an uncertain foot.

Then,
glancing quickly round,
he straightened himself out and burst in
to a hearty fit of laughter."

I suppose,
Watson," said he,
"that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking
to cocaine injections,
and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favored me
with your medical views."


"I was certainly surprised
to find you there."


"But not more so than I
to find you."


"I came
to find a friend."


"And I
to find an enemy."


"An enemy?"


"Yes;
one of my natural enemies,
or,
shall I say,
my natural prey.

Briefly,
Watson,
I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry,
and I have hoped
to find a clew in the incoherent ramblings of these sots,
as I have done before now.

Had I been recognized in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's purchase;

for I have used it before now
for my own purposes,
and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn
to have vengeance upon me.

There is a trap-door at the back of that building,
near the corner of Paul's Wharf,
which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights."


"What!

You do not mean bodies?"


"Ay,
bodies,
Watson.

We should be rich men if we had 1000 pounds
for every poor devil who has been done
to death in that den.

It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside,
and I fear that Neville St.

Clair has entered it never
to leave it more.

But our trap should be here."

He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance,
followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs."

Now,
Watson," said Holmes,
as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom,
throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns.

"You'll come
with me,
won't you?
"If I can be of use."


"Oh,
a trusty comrade is always of use;
and a chronicler still more so.

My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."


"The Cedars?"


"Yes;
that is Mr. St.

Clair's house.

I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry."


"Where is it,
then?"


"Near Lee,
in Kent.

We have a seven-mile drive before us."


"But I am all in the dark."


"Of course you are.

You'll know all about it presently.

Jump up here.

All right,
John;
we shall not need you.

Here's half a crown.

Look out
for me to-morrow,
about eleven.

Give her her head.

So long,
then!"
He flicked the horse
with his whip,
and we dashed away through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets,
which widened gradually,
until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge,

with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us.

Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar,
its silence broken only by the heavy,
regular footfall of the policeman,
or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revellers.

A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky,
and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds.

Holmes drove in silence,

with his head sunk upon his breast,
and the air of a man who is lost in thought,
while I sat beside him,
curious
to learn what this new quest might be which seemed
to tax his powers so sorely,
and yet afraid
to break in upon the current of his thoughts.

We had driven several miles,
and were beginning
to get
to the fringe of the belt of suburban villas,
when he shook himself,
shrugged his shoulders,
and lit up his pipe
with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he is acting
for the best."

You have a grand gift of silence,
Watson," said he.

"It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.

'Pon my word,
it is a great thing
for me
to have someone
to talk to,

for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant.

I was wondering what I should say
to this dear little woman to-night when she meets me at the door."


"You forget that I know nothing about it."


"I shall just have time
to tell you the facts of the case before we get
to Lee.

It seems absurdly simple,
and yet,
somehow I can get nothing
to go upon.

There's plenty of thread,
no doubt,
but I can't get the end of it in
to my hand.

Now,
I'll state the case clearly and concisely
to you,
Watson,
and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark
to me."


"Proceed,
then."


"Some years ago--
to be definite,
in May,
1884--there came
to Lee a gentleman,
Neville St.

Clair by name,
who appeared
to have plenty of money.

He took a large villa,
laid out the grounds very nicely,
and lived generally in good style.

By degrees he made friends in the neighborhood,
and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer,
by whom he now has two children.

He had no occupation,
but was interested in several companies and went in
to town as a rule in the morning,
returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night.

Mr. St.

Clair is now thirty-seven years of age,
is a man of temperate habits,
a good husband,
a very affectionate father,
and a man who is popular
with all who know him.

I may add that his whole debts at the present moment,
as far as we have been able
to ascertain amount
to 88 pounds l0s.,
while he has 220 pounds standing
to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank.

There is no reason,
therefore,

to think that money troubles have been weighing upon his mind."

Last Monday Mr. Neville St.

Clair went in
to town rather earlier than usual,
remarking before he started that he had two important commissions
to perform,
and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks.

Now,
by the merest chance,
his wife received a telegram upon this same Monday,
very shortly after his departure,

to the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting
for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company.

Now,
if you are well up in your London,
you will know that the office of the company is in Fresno Street,
which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane,
where you found me to-night.

Mrs. St.

Clair had her lunch,
started
for the City,
did some shopping,
proceeded
to the company's office,
got her packet,
and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her way back
to the station.

Have you followed me so far?"


"It is very clear."


"If you remember,
Monday was an exceedingly hot day,
and Mrs. St.

Clair walked slowly,
glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab,
as she did not like the neighborhood in which she found herself.

While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane,
she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry,
and was struck cold
to see her husband looking down at her and,
as it seemed
to her,
beckoning
to her from a second-floor window.

The window was open,
and she distinctly saw his face,
which she describes as being terribly agitated.

He waved his hands frantically
to her,
and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed
to her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind.

One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat,
such as he had started
to town in,
he had on neither collar nor necktie."

Convinced that something was amiss
with him,
she rushed down the steps--
for the house was none other than the opium den in which you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted
to ascend the stairs which led
to the first floor.

At the foot of the stairs,
however,
she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken,
who thrust her back and,
aided by a Dane,
who acts as assistant there,
pushed her out in
to the street.

Filled
with the most maddening doubts and fears,
she rushed down the lane and,
by rare good-fortune,
met in Fresno Street a number of constables
with an inspector,
all on their way
to their beat.

The inspector and two men accompanied her back,
and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor,
they made their way
to the room in which Mr. St.

Clair had last been seen.

There was no sign of him there.

In fact,
in the whole of that floor there was no one
to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect,
who,
it seems,
made his home there.

Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon.

So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered,
and had almost come
to believe that Mrs. St.

Clair had been deluded when,

with a cry,
she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it.

Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks.

It was the toy which he had promised
to bring home."

This discovery,
and the evident confusion which the cripple showed,
made the inspector realize that the matter was serious.

The rooms were carefully examined,
and results all pointed
to an abominable crime.

The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led in
to a small bedroom,
which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves.

Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip,
which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide
with at least four and a half feet of water.

The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below.

On examination traces of blood were
to be seen upon the windowsill,
and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom.

Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St.

Clair,

with the exception of his coat.

His boots,
his socks,
his hat,
and his watch--all were there.

There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments,
and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St.

Clair.

Out of the window he must apparently have gone
for no other exit could be discovered,
and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by swimming,

for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy."

And now as
to the villains who seemed
to be immedlately implicated in the matter.

The Lascar was known
to be a man of the vilest antecedents,
but as,
by Mrs. St.

Clair's story,
he was known
to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window,
he could hardly have been more than an accessory
to the crime.

His defense was one of absolute ignorance,
and he protested that he had no knowledge as
to the doings of Hugh Boone,
his lodger,
and that he could not account in any way
for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes."

So much
for the Lascar manager.

Now
for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den,
and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St.

Clair.

His name is Hugh Boone,
and his hideous face is one which is familiar
to every man who goes much
to the City.

He is a professional beggar,
though in order
to avoid the police regulations he pretends
to a small trade in wax vestas.

Some little distance down Threadneedle Street,
upon the left-hand side,
there is,
as you may have remarked,
a small angle in the wall.

Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat,
cross-legged
with his tiny stock of matches on his lap,
and as he is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends in
to the greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him.

I have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance,
and I have been surprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time.

His appearance,
you see,
is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him.

A shock of orange hair,
a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar,
which,
by its contraction,
has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip,
a bulldog chin,
and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes,
which present a singular contrast
to the color of his hair,
all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so,
too,
does his wit,

for he is ever ready
with a reply
to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by.

This is the man whom we now learn
to have been the lodger at the opium den,
and
to have been the last man
to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest."


"But a cripple!" said I.

"What could he have done single-handed against a man in the prime of life?"


"He is a cripple in the sense that he walks
with a limp;
but in other respects he appears
to be a powerful and well-nurtured man.

Surely your medical experience would tell you,
Watson,
that weakness in one limb is often compensated
for by exceptional strength in the others."


"Pray continue your narrative."


"Mrs. St.

Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window,
and she was escorted home in a cab by the police,
as her presence could be of no help
to them in their investigations.

Inspector Barton,
who had charge of the case,
made a very careful examination of the premises,
but without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter.

One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly,
as he was allowed some few minutes during which he might have communicated
with his friend the Lascar,
but this fault was soon remedied,
and he was seized and searched,
without anything being found which could incriminate him.

There were,
it is true,
some blood-stains upon his right shirt-sleeve,
but he pointed
to his ring-finger,
which had been cut near the nail,
and explained that the bleeding came from there,
adding that he had been
to the window not long before,
and that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same source.

He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St.

Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a mystery
to him as
to the police.

As
to Mrs. St.

Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband at the window,
he declared that she must have been either mad or dreaming.

He was removed,
loudly protesting,

to the police-station,
while the inspector remained upon the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clew."

And it did,
though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had feared
to find.

It was Neville St.

Clair's coat,
and not Neville St.

Clair,
which lay uncovered as the tide receded.

And what do you think they found in the pockets?"


"I cannot imagine."


"No,
I don't think you would guess.

Every pocket stuffed
with pennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies.

It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide.

But a human body is a different matter.

There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house.

It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away in
to the river."


"But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room.

Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?"


"No,
sir,
but the facts might be met speciously enough.

Suppose that this man Boone had thrust Neville St.

Clair through the window,
there is no human eye which could have seen the deed.

What would he do then?

It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments.

He would seize the coat,
then,
and be in the act of throwing it out,
when it would occur
to him that it would swim and not sink.

He has little time,

for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried
to force her way up,
and perhaps he has already heard from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street.

There is not an instant
to be lost.

He rushes
to some secret hoard,
where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary,
and he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands in
to the pockets
to make sure of the coat's sinking.

He throws it out,
and would have done the same
with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below,
and only just had time
to close the window when the police appeared."


"It certainly sounds feasible."


"Well,
we will take it as a working hypothesis
for want of a better.

Boone,
as I have told you,
was arrested and taken
to the station,
but it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against him.

He had
for years been known as a professional beggar,
but his life appeared
to have been a very quiet and innocent one.

There the matter stands at present,
and the questions which have
to be solved--what Neville St.

Clair was doing in the opium den,
what happened
to him when there,
where is he now,
and what Hugh Boone had
to do
with his disappearance--are all as far from a solution as ever.

I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties."


While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events,
we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling houses had been left behind,
and we rattled along
with a country hedge upon either side of us.

Just as he finished,
however,
we drove through two scattered villages,
where a few lights still glimmered in the windows."

We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion.

"We have touched on three English counties in our short drive,
starting in Middlesex,
passing over an angle of Surrey,
and ending in Kent.

See that light among the trees?

That is The Cedars,
and beside that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already,
I have little doubt,
caught the clink of our horse's feet."


"But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?"

I asked."

Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here.

Mrs. St.

Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal,
and you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome
for my friend and colleague.

I hate
to meet her,
Watson,
when I have no news of her husband.

Here we are.

Whoa,
there,
whoa!"
We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own grounds.

A stable-boy had run out
to the horse's head,
and springing down,
I followed Holmes up the small,
winding gravel-drive which led
to the house.

As we approached,
the door flew open,
and a little blonde woman stood in the opening,
clad in some sort of light mousseline de soie,

with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists.

She stood
with her figure outlined against the flood of light,
one hand upon the door,
one half-raised in her eagerness,
her body slightly bent,
her head and face protruded,

with eager eyes and parted lips,
a standing question."

Well?"

she cried,
"well?"

And then,
seeing that there were two of us,
she gave a cry of hope which sank in
to a groan as she saw that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders."

No good news?"


"None."


"No bad?"


"No."


"Thank God
for that.

But come in.

You must be weary,

for you have had a long day."


"This is my friend,
Dr. Watson.

He has been of most vital use
to me in several of my cases,
and a lucky chance has made it possible
for me
to bring him out and associate him
with this investigation."


"I am delighted
to see you," said she,
pressing my hand warmly.

"You will,
I am sure,
forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements,
when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us."


"My dear madam," said I,
"I am an old campaigner,
and if I were not I can very well see that no apology is needed.

If I can be of any assistance,
either
to you or
to my friend here,
I shall be indeed happy."


"Now,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a well-lit dining-room,
upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out,
"I should very much like
to ask you one or two plain questions,

to which I beg that you will give a plain answer."


"Certainly,
madam."


"Do not trouble about my feelings.

I am not hysterical,
nor given
to fainting.

I simply wish
to hear your real,
real opinion."


"Upon what point?"


"In your heart of hearts,
do you think that Neville is alive?"


Sherlock Holmes seemed
to be embarrassed by the question.

"Frankly,
now!" she repeated,
standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair."

Frankly,
then,
madam,
I do not."


"You think that he is dead?"


"I do."


"Murdered?"


"I don't say that.

Perhaps."


"And on what day did he meet his death?"


"On Monday."


"Then perhaps,
Mr. Holmes,
you will be good enough
to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to-day."


Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanized."

What!" he roared."

Yes,
to-day."

She stood smiling,
holding up a little slip of paper in the air."

May I see it?"


"Certainly."


He snatched it from her in his eagerness,
and smoothing it out upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently.

I had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder.

The envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped
with the Gravesend postmark and
with the date of that very day,
or rather of the day before,

for it was considerably after midnight."

Coarse writing," murmured Holmes.

"Surely this is not your husband's writing,
madam."


"No,
but the enclosure is."


"I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had
to go and inquire as
to the address."


"How can you tell that?"


"The name,
you see,
is in perfectly black ink,
which has dried itself.

The rest is of the grayish color,
which shows that blotting-paper has been used.

If it had been written straight off,
and then blotted,
none would be of a deep black shade.

This man has written the name,
and there has then been a pause before he wrote the address,
which can only mean that he was not familiar
with it.

It is,
of course,
a trifle,
but there is nothing so important as trifles.

Let us now see the letter.

Ha!

there has been an enclosure here!"
"Yes,
there was a ring.

His signet-ring."


"And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?"


"One of his hands."


"One?"


"His hand when he wrote hurriedly.

It is very unlike his usual writing,
and yet I know it well."


"'Dearest do not be frightened.

All will come well.

There is a huge error which it may take some little time
to rectify.

Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book,
octavo size,
no water-mark.

Hum!

Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man
with a dirty thumb.

Ha!

And the flap has been gummed,
if I am not very much in error,
by a person who had been chewing tobacco.

And you have no doubt that it is your husband's hand,
madam?"


"None.

Neville wrote those words."


"And they were posted to-day at Gravesend.

Well,
Mrs. St.

Clair,
the clouds lighten,
though I should not venture
to say that the danger is over."


"But he must be alive,
Mr. Holmes."


"Unless this is a clever forgery
to put us on the wrong scent.

The ring,
after all,
proves nothing.

It may have been taken from him.

'
"No,
no;
it is,
it is his very own writing!"
"Very well.

It may,
however,
have been written on Monday and only posted to-day."


"That is possible."


"If so,
much may have happened between."


"Oh,
you must not discourage me,
Mr. Holmes.

I know that all is well
with him.

There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came upon him.

On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom,
and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly
with the utmost certainty that something had happened.

Do you think that I would respond
to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?"


"I have seen too much not
to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner.

And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence
to corroborate your view.

But if your husband is alive and able
to write letters,
why should he remain away from you?"


"I cannot imagine.

It is unthinkable."


"And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?"


"No."


"And you were surprised
to see him in Swandam Lane?"


"Very much so."


"Was the window open?"


"Yes."


"Then he might have called
to you?"


"He might."


"He only,
as I understand,
gave an inarticulate cry?"


"Yes."


"A call
for help,
you thought?"


"Yes.

He waved his hands."


"But it might have been a cry of surprise.

Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him
to throw up his hands?"


"It is possible."


"And you thought he was pulled back?"


"He disappeared so suddenly."


"He might have leaped back.

You did not see anyone else in the room?"


"No,
but this horrible man confessed
to having been there,
and the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs."


"Quite so.

Your husband,
as far as you could see,
had his ordinary clothes on?"


"But without his collar or tie.

I distinctly saw his bare throat."


"Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?"


"Never."


"Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?"


"Never."


"Thank you,
Mrs. St.

Clair.

Those are the principal points about which I wished
to be absolutely clear.

We shall now have a little supper and then retire,

for we may have a very busy day to-morrow."


A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal,
and I was quickly between the sheets,

for I was weary after my night of adventure.

Sherlock Holmes was a man,
however,
who,
when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind,
would go
for days,
and even
for a week,
without rest,
turning it over,
rearranging his facts,
looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient.

It was soon evident
to me that he was now preparing
for an all-night sitting.

He took off his coat and waistcoat,
put on a large blue dressing-gown,
and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from the sofa and armchairs.


with these he constructed a sort of Eastern divan,
upon which he perched himself cross-legged,

with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him.

In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there,
an old briar pipe between his lips,
his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling,
the blue smoke curling up from him,
silent,
motionless,

with the light shining upon his strong-set aquiline features.

So he sat as I dropped off
to sleep,
and so he sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me
to wake up,
and I found the summer sun shining in
to the apartment.

The pipe was still between his lips,
the smoke still curled upward,
and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze,
but nothing remained of the heap of shag which I had seen upon the previous night."

Awake,
Watson?"

he asked."

Yes."


"Game
for a morning drive?"


"Certainly."


"Then dress.

No one is stirring yet,
but I know where the stable-boy sleeps,
and we shall soon have the trap out."

He chuckled
to himself as he spoke,
his eyes twinkled,
and he seemed a different man
to the sombre thinker of the previous night.As I dressed I glanced at my watch.

It was no wonder that no one was stirring.

It was twenty-five minutes past four.

I had hardly finished when Holmes returned
with the news that the boy was putting in the horse."

I want
to test a little theory of mine," said he,
pulling on his boots.

"I think,
Watson,
that you are now standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe.

I deserve
to be kicked from here
to Charing Cross.

But I think I have the key of the affair now."


"And where is it?"

I asked,
smiling."

In the bathroom," he answered.

"Oh,
yes,
I am not joking," he continued,
seeing my look of incredulity.

"I have just been there,
and I have taken it out,
and I have got it in this Gladstone bag.

Come on,
my boy,
and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock."


We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible,
and out in
to the bright morning sunshine.

In the road stood our horse and trap,

with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head.

We both sprang in,
and away we dashed down the London Road.

A few country carts were stirring,
bearing in vegetables
to the metropolis,
but the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream."

It has been in some points a singular case," said Holmes,
flicking the horse on in
to a gallop.

"I confess that I have been as blind as a mole,
but it is better
to learn wisdom late than never
to learn it at all."


In town the earliest risers were just beginning
to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side.

Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river,
and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply
to the right and found ourselves in Bow Street.

Sherlock Holmes was well known
to the force,
and the two constables at the door saluted him.

One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in."

Who is on duty?"

asked Holmes."

Inspector Bradstreet,
sir."


"Ah,
Bradstreet,
how are you?"

A tall,
stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage,
in a peaked cap and frogged jacket.

"I wish
to have a quiet word
with you,
Bradstreet."

"Certainly,
Mr. Holmes.

Step in
to my room here."

It was a small,
office-like room,

with a huge ledger upon the table,
and a telephone projecting from the wall.

The inspector sat down at his desk."

What can I do
for you,
Mr. Holmes?"


"I called about that beggarman,
Boone--the one who was charged
with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St.

Clair,
of Lee."


"Yes.

He was brought up and remanded
for further inquiries."


"So I heard.

You have him here?"


"In the cells."


"Is he quiet?"


"Oh,
he gives no trouble.

But he is a dirty scoundrel."


"Dirty?"


"Yes,
it is all we can do
to make him wash his hands,
and his face is as black as a tinker's.

Well,
when once his case has been settled,
he will have a regular prison bath;
and I think,
if you saw him,
you would agree
with me that he needed it."


"I should like
to see him very much."


"Would you?

That is easily done.

Come this way.

You can leave your bag."


"No,
I think that I'll take it."


"Very good.

Come this way,
if you please."

He led us down a passage,
opened a barred door,
passed down a winding stair,
and brought us
to a whitewashed corridor
with a line of doors on each side."

The third on the right is his," said the inspector.

"Here it is!" He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through."

He is asleep," said he.

"You can see him very well."


We both put our eyes
to the grating.

The prisoner lay
with his face towards us,
in a very deep sleep,
breathing slowly and heavily.

He was a middle-sized man,
coarsely clad as became his calling,

with a colored shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat.

He was,
as the inspector had said,
extremely dirty,
but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness.

A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye
to chin,
and by its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip,
so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl.

A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead."

He's a beauty,
isn't he?"

said the inspector."

He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes.

"I had an idea that he might,
and I took the liberty of bringing the tools
with me."

He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke,
and took out,

to my astonishment,
a very large bath-sponge."

He!

he!

You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector."

Now,
if you will have the great goodness
to open that door very quietly,
we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure."


"Well,
I don't know why not," said the inspector.

"He doesn't look a credit
to the Bow Street cells,
does he?"

He slipped his key in
to the lock,
and we all very quietly entered the cell.

The sleeper half turned,
and then settled down once more in
to a deep slumber.

Holmes stooped
to the waterjug,
moistened his sponge,
and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face."

Let me introduce you," he shouted,
"
to Mr. Neville St.

Clair,
of Lee,
in the county of Kent."


Never in my life have I seen such a sight.

The man's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree.

Gone was the coarse brown tint!

Gone,
too,
was the horrid scar which had seamed it across,
and the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer
to the face!

A twitch brought away the tangled red hair,
and there,
sitting up in his bed,
was a pale,
sad-faced,
refined-looking man,
black-haired and smooth-skinned,
rubbing his eyes and staring about him
with sleepy bewilderment.

Then suddenly realizing the exposure,
he broke in
to a scream and threw himself down
with his face
to the pillow."

Great heavens!" cried the inspector,
"it is,
indeed,
the missing man.

I know him from the photograph."


The prisoner turned
with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself
to his destiny.

"Be it so," said he.

"And pray what am I charged with?"


"
with making away
with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh,
come,
you can't be charged
with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector
with a grin.

"Well,
I have been twenty-seven years in the force,
but this really takes the cake."


"If I am Mr. Neville St.

Clair,
then it is obvious that no crime has been committed,
and that,
therefore,
I am illegally detained."


"No crime,
but a very great error has been committed," said Holmes.

"You would have done better
to have trusted you wife."


"It was not the wife;
it was the children," groaned the prisoner.

"God help me,
I would not have them ashamed of their father.

My God!

What an exposure!

What can I do?"


Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly on the shoulder."

If you leave it
to a court of law
to clear the matter up," said he,
"of course you can hardly avoid publicity.

On the other hand,
if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against you,
I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find their way in
to the papers.

Inspector Bradstreet would,
I am sure,
make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it
to the proper authorities.

The case would then never go in
to court at all."


"God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately.

"I would have endured imprisonment,
ay,
even execution,
rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot
to my children."

You are the first who have ever heard my story.

My father was a school-master in Chesterfield,
where I received an excellent education.

I travelled in my youth,
took
to the stage,
and finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London.

One day my editor wished
to have a series of articles upon begging in the metropolis,
and I volunteered
to supply them.

There was the point from which all my adventures started.

It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which
to base my articles.

When an actor I had,
of course,
learned all the secrets of making up,
and had been famous in the greenroom
for my skill.

I took advantage now of my attainments.

I painted my face,
and
to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of flesh-colored plaster.

Then
with a red head of hair,
and an appropriate dress,
I took my station in the business part of the city,
ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a beggar.


for seven hours I plied my trade,
and when I returned home in the evening I found
to my surprise that I had received no less than 26s.

4d."

I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until,
some time later,
I backed a bill
for a friend and had a writ served upon me
for 25 pounds.

I was at my wit's end where
to get the money,
but a sudden idea came
to me.

I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor,
asked
for a holiday from my employers,
and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise.

In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt."

Well,
you can imagine how hard it was
to settle down
to arduous work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face
with a little paint,
laying my cap on the ground,
and sitting still.

It was a long fight between my pride and the money,
but the dollars won at last,
and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first chosen,
inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets
with coppers.

Only one man knew my secret.

He was the keeper of a low den in which I used
to lodge in Swandam Lane,
where I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings transform myself in
to a well-dressed man about town.

This fellow,
a Lascar,
was well paid by me
for his rooms,
so that I knew that my secret was safe in his possession."

Well,
very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money.

I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my average takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making up,
and also in a facility of repartee,
which improved by practice and made me quite a recognized character in the City.

All day a stream of pennies,
varied by silver,
poured in upon me,
and it was a very bad day in which I failed
to take 2 pounds."

As I grew richer I grew more ambitious,
took a house in the country,
and eventually married,
without anyone having a suspicion as
to my real occupation.

My dear wife knew that I had business in the City.

She little knew what."

Last Monday I had finished
for the day and was dressing in my room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw,

to my horror and astonishment,
that my wife was standing in the street,

with her eyes fixed full upon me.

I gave a cry of surprise,
threw up my arms
to cover my face,
and,
rushing
to my confidant,
the Lascar,
entreated him
to prevent anyone from coming up
to me.

I heard her voice downstairs,
but I knew that she could not ascend.

Swiftly I threw off my clothes,
pulled on those of a beggar,
and put on my pigments and wig.

Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise.

But then it occurred
to me that there might be a search in the room,
and that the clothes might betray me.

I threw open the window,
reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning.

Then I seized my coat,
which was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred
to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings.

I hurled it out of the window,
and it disappeared in
to the Thames.

The other clothes would have followed,
but at that moment there was a rush of constables up the stair,
and a few minutes after I found,
rather,
I confess,

to my relief,
that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St.

Clair,
I was arrested as his murderer."

I do not know that there is anything else
for me
to explain.

I was determined
to preserve my disguise as long as possible,
and hence my preference
for a dirty face.

Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious,
I slipped off my ring and confided it
to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me,
together
with a hurried scrawl,
telling her that she had no cause
to fear."


"That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes."

Good God!

What a week she must have spent!"
"The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet,
"and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult
to post a letter unobserved.

Probably he handed it
to some sailor customer of his,
who forgot all about it
for some days."


"That was it," said Holmes,
nodding approvingly;
"I have no doubt of it.

But have you never been prosecuted
for begging?"


"Many times;
but what was a fine
to me?"


"It must stop here,
however," said Bradstreet.

"If the police are
to hush this thing up,
there must be no more of Hugh Boone."


"I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take."


"In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken.

But if you are found again,
then all must come out.

I am sure,
Mr. Holmes,
that we are very moch indebted
to you
for having cleared the matter up.

I wish I knew how you reach your results."


"I reached this one," said my friend,
"by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag.

I think,
Watson,
that if we drive
to Baker Street we shall just be in time
for breakfast."


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 clew 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," l 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 in
to 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 clew 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 discolored.

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 discolored 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 endeavored
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 limecream,
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,
gray 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 22d,
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 22d 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 in
to 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 southem 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 crystallized 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 l arrived the door was opened,
and we were shown up together
to Holmes's 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's 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 stacca
to 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 in
to 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 in
to a supper and follow up this clew 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 horsy-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 22d.

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 in
to 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 color 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 endeavoring
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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to the fire!

Give him an arm back in
to 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 color in
to 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 in
to court!


for Christ's sake,
don't!"
"Get back in
to 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 in
to the goose,
and how came the goose in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to my confidence.

He would show me how
to turn the stone in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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's 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 jail now,
and you make him a jail-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."


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 wlth 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."


"lt 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 gray,

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 gray,
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 in
to 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 in
to 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 neighbors,
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 in
to 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 gypsies,
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 wlthin 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 hls 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 gypsies 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 in
to 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 recognized 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 in
to 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 gypsies 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 gypsies 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 honor
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 in
to 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 colored 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 gypsies 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 in
to 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 gypsies 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 in
to a curve
with his huge brown hands."

See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled,
and hurling the twisted poker in
to 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 in
to your pocket.

An Eley's No.

2 is an excellent argument
with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers in
to 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 laries.

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 m
to a grove at the highest point.

From amid the branches there jutted out the gray 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 gray,
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 in
to your room and bar your shutters?"


Miss Stoner did so,
and Holmes,
after a careful examination through the open window,
endeavored 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 discolored that it may have dated from the original building of the house.

Holmes drew one of the chairs in
to 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 belt-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 in
to 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 in
to 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.

"Hello!

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 if 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 in
to 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 in
to the darkness."

My God!" I whispered;
"did you see it?"


Holmes was
for the moment as startled as I.

His hand closed like a vise upon my wrist in his agitation.

Then he broke in
to 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's example and slipping off my shoes,
I found myself inside the bedroom.

My companion noiselessly closed the shutters,
moved the lamp on
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 in
to 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 gray dressing-gown,
his bare ankles protruding beneath,
and his feet thrust in
to 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 in
to the pit which he digs
for another.

Let us thrust this creature back in
to 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 in
to 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 gypsies,
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."


ADVENTURE IX.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER'S THUMB
Of all the problems which have been submitted
to my friend,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

for solution during the years of our intimacy,
there were only two which I was the means of introducing
to his notice--that of Mr. Hatherley's thumb,
and that of Colonel Warburton's madness.

Of these the latter may have afforded a finer field
for an acute and original observer,
but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record,
even if it gave my friend fewer openings
for those deductive methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results.

The story has,
I believe,
been told more than once in the newspapers,
but,
like all such narratives,
its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes,
and the mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on
to the complete truth.

At the time the circumstances made a deep impression upon me,
and the lapse of two years has hardly served
to weaken the effect.It was in the summer of '89,
not long after my marriage,
that the events occurred which I am now about
to summarize.

I had returned
to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms,
although I continually visited him and occasionally even persuaded him
to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as
to come and visit us.

My practice had steadily increased,
and as I happened
to live at no very great distance from Paddington Station,
I got a few patients from among the officials.

One of these,
whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease,
was never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavoring
to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence.One morning,
at a little before seven o'clock,
I was awakened by the maid tapping at the door
to announce that two men had come from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room.

I dressed hurriedly,

for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial,
and hastened downstairs.

As I descended,
my old ally,
the guard,
came out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him."

I've got him here," he whispered,
jerking his thumb over his shoulder;
"he's all right."


"What is it,
then?"

I asked,

for his manner suggested that it was some strange creature which he had caged up in my room."

It's a new patient," he whispered.

"I thought I'd bring him round myself;
then he couldn't slip away.

There he is,
all safe and sound.

I must go now,
Doctor;
I have my dooties,
just the same as you."

And off he went,
this trusty tout,
without even giving me time
to thank him.I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the table.

He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed
with a soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books.

Round one of his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped,
which was mottled all over
with bloodstains.

He was young,
not more than five-and-twenty,
I should say,

with a strong,
masculine face;
but he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who was suffering from some strong agitation,
which it took all his strength of mind
to control."

I am sorry
to knock you up so early,
Doctor," said he,
"but I have had a very serious accident during the night.

I came in by train this morning,
and on inquiring at Paddington as
to where I might find a doctor,
a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here.

I gave the maid a card,
but I see that she has left it upon the side-table."


I took it up and glanced at it.

"Mr. Victor Hatherley,
hydraulic engineer,
16A.

Victoria Street (3d floor)."

That was the name,
style,
and abode of my morning visitor.

"I regret that I have kept you waiting," said I,
sitting down in my library-chair.

"You are fresh from a night journey,
I understand,
which is in itself a monotonous occupation."


"Oh,
my night could not be called monotonous," said he,
and laughed.

He laughed very heartily,

with a high,
ringing note,
leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides.

All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh."

Stop it!" I cried;
"pull yourself together!" and I poured out some water from a caraffe.It was useless,
however.

He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone.

Presently he came
to himself once more,
very weary and pale-looking."

I have been making a fool of myself," he gasped."

Not at all.

Drink this."

I dashed some brandy in
to the water,
and the color began
to come back
to his bloodless cheeks."

That's better!" said he.

"And now,
Doctor,
perhaps you would kindly attend
to my thumb,
or rather
to the place where my thumb used
to be."


He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand.

It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder
to look at it.

There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red,
spongy surface where the thumb should have been.

It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots."

Good heavens!" I cried,
"this is a terrible injury.

It must have bled considerably."


"Yes,
it did.

I fainted when it was done,
and I think that I must have been senseless
for a long time.

When I came
to I found that it was still bleeding,
so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced it up
with a twig."


"Excellent!

You should have been a surgeon."


"It is a question of hydraulics,
you see,
and came within my own province."


"This has been done," said I,
examining the wound,
"by a very heavy and sharp instrument."


"A thing like a cleaver," said he."

An accident,
I presume?"


"By no means."


"What!

a murderous attack?"


"Very murderous indeed."


"You horrify me."


I sponged the wound,
cleaned it,
dressed it,
and finally covered it over
with cotton wadding and carbolized bandages.

He lay back without wincing,
though he bit his lip from time
to time."

How is that?"

I asked when I had finished."

Capital!

Between your brandy and your bandage,
I feel a new man.

I was very weak,
but I have had a good deal
to go through."


"Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter.

It is evidently trying
to your nerves."


"Oh,
no,
not now.

I shall have
to tell my tale
to the police;
but,
between ourselves,
if it were not
for the convincing evidence of this wound of mine,
I should be surprised if they believed my statement,

for it is a very extraordinary one,
and I have not much in the way of proof
with which
to back it up;
and,
even if they believe me,
the clews which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether justice will be done."


"Ha!" cried I,
"if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire
to see solved,
I should strongly recommend you
to come
to my friend,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
before you go
to the official police."


"Oh,
I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor,
"and I should be very glad if he would take the matter up,
though of course I must use the official police as well.

Would you give me an introduction
to him?"


"I'll do better.

I'll take you round
to him myself."


"I should be immensely obliged
to you."


"We'll call a cab and go together.

We shall just be in time
to have a little breakfast
with him.

Do you feel equal
to it?"


"Yes;
I shall not feel easy until I have told my story."


"Then my servant will call a cab,
and I shall be
with you in an instant."

I rushed upstairs,
explained the matter shortly
to my wife,
and in five minutes was inside a hansom,
driving
with my new acquaintance
to Baker Street.Sherlock Holmes was,
as I expected,
lounging about his sittingroom in his dressing-gown,
reading the agony column of The Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe,
which was composed of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day before,
all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece.

He received us in his quietly genial fashion,
ordered fresh rashers and eggs,
and joined us in a hearty meal.

When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa,
placed a pillow beneath his head,
and laid a glass of brandy and water within his reach."

It is easy
to see that your experience has been no common one,
Mr. Hatherley," said he.

"Pray,
lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home.

Tell us what you can,
but stop when you are tired and keep up your strength
with a little stimulant."


"Thank you," said my patient.

"but I have felt another man since the doctor bandaged me,
and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure.

I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible,
so I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences."


Holmes sat in his big armchair
with the weary,
heavy-lidded expression which veiled his keen and eager nature,
while I sat opposite
to him,
and we listened in silence
to the strange story which our visitor detailed
to us."

You must know," said he,
"that I am an orphan and a bachelor,
residing alone in lodgings in London.

By profession I am a hydraulic engineer,
and I have had considerable experience of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed
to Venner & Matheson,
the well-known firm,
of Greenwich.

Two years ago,
having served my time,
and having also come in
to a fair sum of money through my poor father's death,
I determined
to start in business
for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria Street."

I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a dreary experience.


to me it has been exceptionally so.

During two years I have had three consultations and one small job,
and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought me.

My gross takings amount
to 27 pounds 10s.

Every day,
from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon,
I waited in my little den,
until at last my heart began
to sink,
and I came
to believe that I should never have any practice at all."

Yesterday,
however,
just as I was thinking of leaving the office,
my clerk entered
to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished
to see me upon business.

He brought up a card,
too,

with the name of 'Colonel Lysander Stark' engraved upon it.

Close at his heels came the colonel himself,
a man rather over the middle size,
but of an exceeding thinness.

I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man.

His whole face sharpened away in
to nose and chin,
and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones.

Yet this emaciation seemed
to be his natural habit,
and due
to no disease,

for his eye was bright,
his step brisk,
and his bearing assured.

He was plainly but neatly dressed,
and his age,
I should judge,
would be nearer forty than thirty."

'Mr. Hatherley?' said he,

with something of a German accent.

'You have been recommended
to me,
Mr. Hatherley,
as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.'
"I bowed,
feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an address.

'May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?'
"'Well,
perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this moment.

I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.'
"'That is quite correct,' I answered;
'but you will excuse me if I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional qualifications.

I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wished
to speak
to me?'
"'Undoubtedly so.

But you will find that all I say is really
to the point.

I have a professional commission
for you,
but absolute secrecy is quite essential--absolute secrecy,
you understand,
and of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of his family.'
"'If I promise
to keep a secret,' said I,
'you may absolutely depend upon my doing so.'
"He looked very hard at me as I spoke,
and it seemed
to me that I had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye."

'Do you promise,
then?' said he at last."

'Yes,
I promise.'
"'Absolute and complete silence before,
during,
and after?

No reference
to the matter at all,
either in word or writing?'
"'I have already given you my word.'
"'Very good.' He suddenly sprang up,
and darting like lightning across the room he flung open the door.

The passage outside was empty."

'That's all right,' said he,
coming back.

'I know the clerks are sometimes curious as
to their master's affairs.

Now we can talk in safety.' He drew up his chair very close
to mine and began
to stare at me again
with the same questioning and thoughtful look."

A feeling of repulsion,
and of something akin
to fear had begun
to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man.

Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience."

'I beg that you will state your business,
sir,' said I;
'my time is of value.' Heaven forgive me
for that last sentence,
but the words came
to my lips."

'How would fifty guineas
for a night's work suit you?' he asked."

'Most admirably.'
"'I say a night's work,
but an hour's would be nearer the mark.

I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out of gear.

If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves.

What do you think of such a commission as that?'
"'The work appears
to be light and the pay munificent.'
"'Precisely so.

We shall want you
to come to-night by the last train.'
"'Where to?'
"'
to Eyford,
in Berkshire.

It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire,
and within seven miles of Reading.

There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.'
"'Very good.'
"'I shall come down in a carriage
to meet you.'
"'There is a drive,
then?'
"'Yes,
our little place is quite out in the country.

It is a good seven miles from Eyford Station.'
"'Then we can hardly get there before midnight.

I suppose there would be no chance of a train back.

I should be compelled
to stop the night.'
"'Yes,
we could easily give you a shake-down.'
"'That is very awkward.

Could I not come at some more convenient hour?'
"'We have judged it best that you should come late.

It is
to recompense you
for any inconvenience that we are paying
to you,
a young and unknown man,
a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your profession.

Still,
of course,
if you would like
to draw out of the business,
there is plenty of time
to do so.'
"I thought of the fifty guineas,
and of how very useful they would be
to me.

'Not at all,' said I,
'I shall be very happy
to accommodate myself
to your wishes.

I should like,
however,

to understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me
to do.'
"'Quite so.

It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity.

I have no wish
to commit you
to anything without your having it all laid before you.

I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?'
"'Entirely.'
"'Then the matter stands thus.

You are probably aware that fuller's-earth is a valuable product,
and that it is only found in one or two places in England?'
"'I have heard so.'
"'Some little time ago I bought a small place--a very small place--within ten miles of Reading.

I was fortunate enough
to discover that there was a deposit of fuller's-earth in one of my fields.

On examining it,
however,
I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one,
and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right and left--both of them,
however,
in the grounds of my neighbors.

These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine.

Naturally,
it was
to my interest
to buy their land before they discovered its true value,
but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this.

I took a few of my friends in
to the secret,
however,
and they suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would enable us
to buy the neighboring fields.

This we have now been doing
for some time,
and in order
to help us in our operations we erected a hydraulic press.

This press,
as I have already explained,
has got out of order,
and we wish your advice upon the subject.

We guard our secret very jealously,
however,
and if it once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming
to our little house,
it would soon rouse inquiry,
and then,
if the facts came out,
it would be good-bye
to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our plans.

That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are going
to Eyford to-night.

I hope that I make it all plain?'
"'I quite follow you,' said I.

'The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in excavating fuller's-earth,
which,
as I understand,
is dug out like gravel from a pit.'
"'Ah!' said he carelessly,
'we have our own process.

We compress the earth in
to bricks,
so as
to remove them without revealing what they are.

But that is a mere detail.

I have taken you fully in
to my confidence now,
Mr. Hatherley,
and I have shown you how I trust you.' He rose as he spoke.

'I shall expect you,
then,
at Eyford at 11:15.'
"'I shall certainly be there.'
"'And not a word
to a soul.' He looked at me
with a last long,
questioning gaze,
and then,
pressing my hand in a cold,
dank grasp,
he hurried from the room."

Well,
when I came
to think it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished,
as you may both think,
at this sudden commission which had been intrusted
to me.

On the one hand,
of course,
I was glad,

for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price upon my own services,
and it was possible that this order might lead
to other ones.

On the other hand,
the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon me,
and I could not think that his explanation of the fuller's-earth was sufficient
to explain the necessity
for my coming at midnight,
and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand.

However,
I threw all fears
to the winds,
ate a hearty supper,
drove
to Paddington,
and started off,
having obeyed
to the letter the injunction as
to holding my tongue."

At Reading I had
to change not only my carriage but my station.

However,
I was in time
for the last train
to Eyford,
and I reached the little dim-lit station aher eleven o'clock.

I was the only passenger who got out there,
and there was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy porter
with a lantern.

As I passed out through the wicket gate,
however,
I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side.

Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me in
to a carriage,
the door of which was standing open.

He drew up the windows on either side,
tapped on the wood-work,
and away we went as fast as the horse could go."


"One horse?"

interjected Holmes."

Yes,
only one."


"Did you observe the color?"


"Yes,
I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping in
to the carriage.

It was a chestnut."


"Tired-looking or fresh?"


"Oh,
fresh and glossy."


"Thank you.

I am sorry
to have interrupted you.

Pray continue your most interesting statement."


"Away we went then,
and we drove
for at least an hour.

Colonel Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles,
but I should think,
from the rate that we seemed
to go,
and from the time that we took,
that it must have been nearer twelve.

He sat at my side in silence all the time,
and I was aware,
more than once when I glanced in his direction,
that he was looking at me
with great intensity.

The country roads seem
to be not very good in that part of the world,

for we lurched and jolted terribly.

I tried
to look out of the windows
to see something of where we were,
but they were made of frosted glass,
and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light.

Now and then I hazarded some remark
to break the monotony of the journey,
but the colonel answered only in monosyllables,
and the conversation soon flagged.

At last,
however,
the bumping of the road was exchanged
for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive,
and the carriage came
to a stand.

Colonel Lysander Stark sprang out,
and,
as I followed after him,
pulled me swiftly in
to a porch which gaped in front of us.

We stepped,
as it were,
right out of the carriage and in
to the hall,
so that I failed
to catch the most fleeting glance of the front of the house.

The instant that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us,
and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away."

It was pitch dark inside the house,
and the colonel fumbled about looking
for matches and muttering under his breath.

Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage,
and a long,
golden bar of light shot out in our direction.

It grew broader,
and a woman appeared
with a lamp in her hand,
which she held above her head,
pushing her face forward and peering at us.

I could see that she was pretty,
and from the gloss
with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich material.

She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a question,
and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from her hand.

Colonel Stark went up
to her,
whispered something in her ear,
and then,
pushing her back in
to the room from whence she had come,
he walked towards me again
with the lamp in his hand."

'Perhaps you will have the kindness
to wait in this room
for a few minutes,' said he,
throwing open another door.

It was a quiet,
little,
plainly furnished room,

with a round table in the centre,
on which several German books were scattered.

Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the door.

'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said he,
and vanished in
to the darkness."

I glanced at the books upon the table,
and in spite of my ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises on science,
the others being volumes of poetry.

Then I walked across
to the window,
hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side,
but an oak shutter,
heavily barred,
was folded across it.

It was a wonderfully silent house.

There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage,
but otherwise everything was deadly still.

A vague feeling of uneasiness began
to steal over me.

Who were these German people,
and what were they doing living in this strange,
out-of-the-way place?

And where was the place?

I was ten miles or so from Eyford,
that was all I knew,
but whether north,
south,
east,
or west I had no idea.


for that matter,
Reading,
and possibly other large towns,
were within that radius,
so the place might not be so secluded,
after all.

Yet it was quite certain,
from the absolute stillness,
that we were in the country.

I paced up and down the room,
humming a tune under my breath
to keep up my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee."

Suddenly,
without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness,
the door of my room swung slowly open.

The woman was standing in the aperture,
the darkness of the hall behind her,
the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face.

I could see at a glance that she was sick
with fear,
and the sight sent a chill
to my own heart.

She held up one shaking finger
to warn me
to be silent,
and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me,
her eyes glancing back,
like those of a frightened horse,
in
to the gloom behind her."

'I would go,' said she,
trying hard,
as it seemed
to me,

to speak calmly;
'I would go.

I should not stay here.

There is no good
for you
to do.'
"'But,
madam,' said I,
'I have not yet done what I came for.

I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.'
"'It is not worth your while
to wait,' she went on.

'You can pass through the door;
no one hinders.' And then,
seeing that I smiled and shook my head,
she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step forward,

with her hands wrung together.

'
for the love of Heaven!' she whispered,
'get away from here before it is too late!'
"But I am somewhat headstrong by nature,
and the more ready
to engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way.

I thought of my fifty-guinea fee,
of my wearisome journey,
and of the unpleasant night which seemed
to be before me.

Was it all
to go
for nothing?

Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission,
and without the payment which was my due?

This woman might,

for all I knew,
be a monomaniac.


with a stout bearing,
therefore,
though her manner had shaken me more than I cared
to confess,
I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining where I was.

She was about
to renew her entreaties when a door slammed overhead,
and the sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs.

She listened
for an instant,
threw up her hands
with a despairing gesture,
and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as she had come."

The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man
with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin,
who was introduced
to me as Mr. Ferguson."

'This is my secretary and manager,' said the colonel.

'By the way,
I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now.

I fear that you have felt the draught.'
"'On the contrary,' said I,
'I opened the door myself because I felt the room
to be a little close.'
"He shot one of his suspicious looks at me.

'Perhaps we had better proceed
to business,
then,' said he.

'Mr. Ferguson and I will take you up
to see the machine.'
"'I had better put my hat on,
I suppose.'
"'Oh,
no,
it is in the house.'
"'What,
you dig fuller's-earth in the house?'
"'No,
no.

This is only where we compress it.

But never mind that.

All we wish you
to do is
to examine the machine and
to let us know what is wrong
with it.'
"We went upstairs together,
the colonel first
with the lamp,
the fat manager and I behind him.

It was a labyrinth of an old house,

with corridors,
passages,
narrow winding staircases,
and little low doors,
the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them.

There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above the ground floor,
while the plaster was peeling off the walls,
and the damp was breaking through in green,
unhealthy blotches.

I tried
to put on as unconcerned an air as possible,
but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady,
even though I disregarded them,
and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions.

Ferguson appeared
to be a morose and silent man,
but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a fellow-countryman."

Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door,
which he unlocked.

Within was a small,
square room,
in which the three of us could hardly get at one time.

Ferguson remained outside,
and the colonel ushered me in."

'We are now,' said he,
'actually within the hydraulic press,
and it would be a particularly unpleasant thing
for us if anyone were
to turn it on.

The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston,
and it comes down
with the force of many tons upon this metal floor.

There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force,
and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar
to you.

The machine goes readily enough,
but there is some stiffness in the working of it,
and it has lost a little of its force.

Perhaps you will have the goodness
to look it over and
to show us how we can set it right.'
"I took the lamp from him,
and I examined the machine very thoroughly.

It was indeed a gigantic one,
and capable of exercising enormous pressure.

When I passed outside,
however,
and pressed down the levers which controlled it,
I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage,
which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders.

An examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite
to fill the socket along which it worked.

This was clearly the cause of the loss of power,
and I pointed it out
to my companions,
who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions as
to how they should proceed
to set it right.

When I had made it clear
to them,
I returned
to the main chamber of the machine and took a good look at it
to satisfy my own curiosity.

It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's-earth was the merest fabrication,

for it would be absurd
to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed
for so inadequate a purpose.

The walls were of wood,
but the floor consisted of a large iron trough,
and when I came
to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it.

I had stooped and was scraping at this
to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down at me."

'What are you doing there?' he asked."

I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had told me.

'I was admiring your fuller's-earth,' said I;
'I think that I should be better able
to advise you as
to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was
for which it was used.'
"The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my speech.

His face set hard,
and a baleful light sprang up in his gray eyes."

'Very well,' said he,
'you shall know all about the machine.' He took a step backward,
slammed the little door,
and turned the key in the lock.

I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle,
but it was quite secure,
and did not give in the least
to my kicks and shoves.

'Hello!' I yelled.

'Hello!

Colonel!

Let me out!'
"And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart in
to my mouth.

It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder.

He had set the engine at work.

The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough.

By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me,
slowly,
jerkily,
but,
as none knew better than myself,

with a force which must within a minute grind me
to a shapeless pulp.

I threw myself,
screaming,
against the door,
and dragged
with my nails at the lock.

I implored the colonel
to let me out,
but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my cries.

The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head,
and
with my hand upraised I could feel its hard,
rough surface.

Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position in which I met it.

If I lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine,
and I shuddered
to think of that dreadful snap.

Easier the other way,
perhaps;
and yet,
had I the nerve
to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me?

Already I was unable
to stand erect,
when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back
to my heart."

I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron,
the walls were of wood.

As I gave a last hurried glance around,
I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards,
which broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward.


for an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death.

The next instant I threw myself through,
and lay half-fainting upon the other side.

The panel had closed again behind me,
but the crash of the lamp,
and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal,
told me how narrow had been my escape."

I was recalled
to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist,
and I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor,
while a woman bent over me and tugged at me
with her left hand,
while she held a candle in her right.

It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected."

'Come!

come!' she cried breathlessly.

'They will be here in a moment.

They will see that you are not there.

Oh,
do not waste the so-precious time,
but come!'
"This time,
at least,
I did not scorn her advice.

I staggered
to my feet and ran
with her along the corridor and down a winding stair.

The latter led
to another broad passage,
and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices,
one answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath.

My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wit's end.

Then she threw open a door which led in
to a bedroom,
through the window of which the moon was shining brightly."

'It is your only chance,' said she.

'It is high,
but it may be that you can jump it.'
"As she spoke a light sprang in
to view at the further end of the passage,
and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing forward
with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other.

I rushed across the bedroom,
flung open the window,
and looked out.

How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight,
and it could not be more than thirty feet down.

I clambered out upon the sill,
but I hesitated
to jump until I should have heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me.

If she were ill-used,
then at any risks I was determined
to go back
to her assistance.

The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door,
pushing his way past her;
but she threw her arms round him and tried
to hold him back."

'Fritz!

Fritz!' she cried in English,
'remember your promise after the last time.

You said it should not be again.

He will be silent!

Oh,
he will be silent!'
"'You are mad,
Elise!' he shouted,
struggling
to break away from her.

'You will be the ruin of us.

He has seen too much.

Let me pass,
I say!' He dashed her
to one side,
and,
rushing
to the window,
cut at me
with his heavy weapon.

I had let myself go,
and was hanging by the hands
to the sill,
when his blow fell.

I was conscious of a dull pain,
my grip loosened,
and I fell in
to the garden below."

I was shaken but not hurt by the fall;
so I picked myself up and rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run,

for I understood that I was far from being out of danger yet.

Suddenly,
however,
as I ran,
a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me.

I glanced down at my hand,
which was throbbing painfully,
and then,

for the first time,
saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from my wound.

I endeavored
to tie my handkerchief round it,
but there came a sudden buzzing in my ears,
and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose-bushes."

How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell.

It must have been a very long time,

for the moon had sunk,
and a bright morning was breaking when I came
to myself.

My clothes were all sodden
with dew,
and my coat-sleeve was drenched
with blood from my wounded thumb.

The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's adventure,
and I sprang
to my feet
with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers.

But
to my astonishment,
when I came
to look round me,
neither house nor garden were
to be seen.

I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad,
and just a little lower down was a long building,
which proved,
upon my approaching it,

to be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night.

Were it not
for the ugly wound upon my hand,
all that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream."

Half dazed,
I went in
to the station and asked about the morning train.

There would be one
to Reading in less than an hour.

The same porter was on duty,
I found,
as had been there when I arrived.

I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark.

The name was strange
to him.

Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting
for me?

No,
he had not.

Was there a police-station anywhere near?

There was one about three miles off."

It was too far
for me
to go,
weak and ill as I was.

I determined
to wait until I got back
to town before telling my story
to the police.

It was a little past six when I arrived,
so I went first
to have my wound dressed,
and then the doctor was kind enough
to bring me along here.

I put the case in
to your hands and shall do exactly what you advise."


We both sat in silence
for some little time after listening
to this extraordinary narrative.

Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings."

Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said he.

"It appeared in all the papers about a year ago.

Listen
to this:

'Lost,
on the 9th inst.,
Mr. Jeremiah Hayling,
aged twenty-six,
a hydraulic engineer.

Left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night,
and has not been heard of since.

Was dressed in,' etc.,
etc.

Ha!

That represents the last time that the colonel needed
to have his machine overhauled,
I fancy."


"Good heavens!" cried my patient.

"Then that explains what the girl said."


"Undoubtedly.

It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate man,
who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his little game,
like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship.

Well,
every moment now is precious,
so if you feel equal
to it we shall go down
to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary
to starting
for Eyford."


Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together,
bound from Reading
to the little Berkshire village.

There were Sherlock Holmes,
the hydraulic engineer,
Inspector Bradstreet,
of Scotland Yard,
a plain-clothes man,
and myself.

Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was busy
with his compasses drawing a circle
with Eyford
for its centre."

There you are," said he.

"That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village.

The place we want must be somewhere near that line.

You said ten miles,
I think,
sir."


"It was an hour's good drive."


"And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were unconscious?"


"They must have done so.

I have a confused memory,
too,
of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere."


"What I cannot understand," said I,
"is why they should have spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden.

Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties."


"I hardly think that likely.

I never saw a more inexorable face in my life."


"Oh,
we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet.

"Well,
I have drawn my circle,
and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk that we are in search of are
to be found."


"I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly."

Really,
now!" cried the inspector,
"you have formed your opinion!

Come,
now,
we shall see who agrees
with you.

I say it is south,

for the country is more deserted there."


"And I say east," said my patient."

I am
for west," remarked the plain-clothes man.

"There are several quiet little villages up there."


"And I am
for north," said I,
"because there are no hills there,
and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any."


"Come," cried the inspector,
laughing;
"it's a very pretty diversity of opinion.

We have boxed the compass among us.

Who do you give your casting vote to?"


"You are all wrong."


"But we can't all be."


"Oh,
yes,
you can.

This is my point."

He placed his finger in the centre of the circle.

"This is where we shall find them."


"But the twelve-mile drive?"

gasped Hatherley."

Six out and six back.

Nothing simpler.

You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in.

How could it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?"


"Indeed,
it is a likely ruse enough," observed Bradstreet thoughtfully.

"Of course there can be no doubt as
to the nature of this gang."


"None at all," said Holmes.

"They are coiners on a large scale,
and have used the machine
to form the amalgam which has taken the place of silver."


"We have known
for some time that a clever gang was at work," said the inspector.

"They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand.

We even traced them as far as Reading,
but could get no farther,

for they had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands.

But now,
thanks
to this lucky chance,
I think that we have got them right enough."


But the inspector was mistaken,

for those criminals were not destined
to fall in
to the hands of justice.

As we rolled in
to Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighborhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape."

A house on fire?"

asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way."

Yes,
sir!" said the station-master."

When did it break out?"


"I hear that it was during the night,
sir,
but it has got worse,
and the whole place is in a blaze."


"Whose house is it?"


"Dr. Becher's."


"Tell me," broke in the engineer,
"is Dr. Becher a German,
very thin,

with a long,
sharp nose?"


The station-master laughed heartily.

"No,
sir,
Dr. Becher is an Englishman,
and there isn't a man in the parish who has a better-lined waistcoat.

But he has a gentleman staying
with him,
a patient,
as I understand,
who is a foreigner,
and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm."


The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all hastening in the direction of the fire.

The road topped a low hill,
and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us,
spouting fire at every chink and window,
while in the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving
to keep the flames under."

That's it!" cried Hatherley,
in intense excitement.

"There is the gravel-drive,
and there are the rose-bushes where I lay.

That second window is the one that I jumped from."


"Well,
at least," said Holmes,
"you have had your revenge upon them.

There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which,
when it was crushed in the press,
set fire
to the wooden walls,
though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you
to observe it at the time.

Now keep your eyes open in this crowd
for your friends of last night,
though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now."


And Holmes's fears came
to be realized,

for from that day
to this no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman,
the sinister German,
or the morose Englishman.

Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading,
but there all traces of the fugitives disappeared,
and even Holmes's ingenuity failed ever
to discover the least clew as
to their whereabouts.The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they had found within,
and still more so by discovering a newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor.

About sunset,
however,
their efforts were at last successful,
and they subdued the flames,
but not before the roof had fallen in,
and the whole place been reduced
to such absolute ruin that,
save some twisted cylinders and iron piping,
not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly.

Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house,
but no coins were
to be found,
which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been already referred to.How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden
to the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery were it not
for the soft mould,
which told us a very plain tale.

He had evidently been carried down by two persons,
one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones.

On the whole,
it was most probable that the silent Englishman,
being less bold or less murderous than his companion,
had assisted the woman
to bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger."

Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats
to return once more
to London,
"it has been a pretty business
for me!

I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee,
and what have I gained?"


"Experience," said Holmes,
laughing.

"Indirectly it may be of value,
you know;
you have only
to put it in
to words
to gain the reputation of being excellent company
for the remainder of your existence."


ADVENTURE 10.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR
The Lord St.

Simon marriage,
and its curious termination,
have long ceased
to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves.

Fresh scandals have eclipsed it,
and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama.

As I have reason
to believe,
however,
that the full facts have never been revealed
to the general public,
and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up,
I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode.It was a few weeks before my own marriage,
during the days when I was still sharing rooms
with Holmes in Baker Street,
that he came home from an afternoon stroll
to find a letter on the table waiting
for him.

I had remained indoors all day,

for the weather had taken a sudden turn
to rain,

with high autumnal winds,
and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed
with dull persistence.


with my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another,
I had surrounded myself
with a cloud of newspapers until at last,
saturated
with the news of the day,
I tossed them all aside and lay listless,
watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's noble correspondent could be."

Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he entered.

"Your morning letters,
if I remember right,
were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter."


"Yes,
my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," he answered,
smiling,
"and the humbler are usually the more interesting.

This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either
to be bored or
to lie."


He broke the seal and glanced over the contents."

Oh,
come,
it may prove
to be something of interest,
after all."


"Not social,
then?"


"No,
distinctly professional."


"And from a noble client?"


"One of the highest in England."


"My dear fellow.

I congratulate you."


"I assure you,
Watson,
without affectation,
that the status of my client is a matter of less moment
to me than the interest of his case.

It is just possible,
however,
that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation.

You have been reading the papers diligently of late,
have you not?"


"It looks like it," said I ruefully,
pointing
to a huge bundle in the corner.

"I have had nothing else
to do."


"It is fortunate,

for you will perhaps be able
to post me up.

I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column.

The latter is always instructive.

But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Lord St.

Simon and his wedding?"


"Oh,
yes,

with the deepest interest."


"That is well.

The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St.

Simon.

I will read it
to you,
and in return you must turn over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter.

This is what he says:
"'MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--"Lord Backwater tells me that I may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion.

I have determined,
therefore,

to call upon you and
to consult you in reference
to the very painful event which has occurred in connection
with my wedding.

Mr. Lestrade,
of Scotland Yard,
is acting already in the matter,
but he assures me that he sees no objection
to your cooperation,
and that he even thinks that it might be of some assistance.

I will call at four o'clock in the afternoon,
and,
should you have any other engagement at that time,
I hope that you will postpone it,
as this matter is of paramount importance.

Yours faithfully,
ST.

SIMON.'
"It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions,
written
with a quill pen,
and the noble lord has had the misfortune
to get a smear of ink upon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked Holmes as he folded up the epistle."

He says four o'clock.

It is three now.

He will be here in an hour."


"Then I have just time,

with your assistance,

to get clear upon the subject.

Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time,
while I take a glance as
to who our client is."

He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece.

"Here he is," said he,
sitting down and flattening it out upon his knee.

"Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St.

Simon,
second son of the Duke of Balmoral.

Hum!

Arms:

Azure,
three caltrops in chief over a fess sable.

Born in 1846.

He's forty-one years of age,
which is mature
for marriage.

Was Under-Secretary
for the colonies in a late administration.

The Duke,
his father,
was at one time Secretary
for Foreign Affairs.

They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent,
and Tudor on the distaff side.

Ha!

Well,
there is nothing very instructive in all this.

I think that I must turn
to you Watson,

for something more solid."


"I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I,
"
for the facts are quite recent,
and the matter struck me as remarkable.

I feared
to refer them
to you,
however,
as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters."


"Oh,
you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van.

That is quite cleared up now--though,
indeed,
it was obvious from the first.

Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections."


"Here is the first notice which I can find.

It is in the personal column of the Morning Post,
and dates,
as you see,
some weeks back:

'A marriage has been arranged,' it says,
'and will,
if rumour is correct,
very shortly take place,
between Lord Robert St.

Simon,
second son of the Duke of Balmoral,
and Miss Hatty Doran,
the only daughter of Aloysius Doran.

Esq.,
of San Francisco,
Cal.,
U.S.A.' That is all."


"Terse and
to the point," remarked Holmes,
stretching his long,
thin legs towards the fire."

There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same week.

Ah,
here it is:

'There will soon be a call
for protection in the marriage market,

for the present free-trade principle appears
to tell heavily against our home product.

One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing in
to the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic.

An important addition has been made during the last week
to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders.

Lord St.

Simon,
who has shown himself
for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows,
has now definitely announced his approaching marriage
with Miss Hatty Doran,
the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire.

Miss Doran,
whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities,
is an only child,
and it is currently reported that her dowry will run
to considerably over the six figures,

with expectancies
for the future.

As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled
to sell his pictures within the last few years,
and as Lord St.

Simon has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor,
it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her
to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady
to a British peeress.'"
"Anything else?"

asked Holmes,
yawning."

Oh,
yes;
plenty.

Then there is another note in the Morning Post
to say that the mariage would be an absolutely quiet one,
that it would be at St.

George's,
Hanover Square,
that only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited,
and that the party would return
to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran.

Two days later--that is,
on Wednesday last--there is a curt announcement that the wedding had taken place,
and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater's place,
near Petersfield.

Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride."


"Before the what?"

asked Holmes
with a start."

The vanishing of the lady."


"When did she vanish,
then?"


"At the wedding breakfast."


"Indeed.

This is more interesting than it promised
to be;
quite dramatic,
in fact."


"Yes;
it struck me as being a little out of the common."


"They often vanish before the ceremony,
and occasionally during the honeymoon;
but I cannot call
to mind anything quite so prompt as this.

Pray let me have the details."


"I warn you that they are very incomplete."


"Perhaps we may make them less so."


"Such as they are,
they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday,
which I will read
to you.

It is headed,
'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding':
"'The family of Lord Robert St.

Simon has been thrown in
to the greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection
with his wedding.

The ceremony,
as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday,
occurred on the previous morning;
but it is only now that it has been possible
to confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about.

In spite of the attempts of the friends
to hush the matter up,
so much public attention has now been drawn
to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting
to disregard what is a common subject
for conversation."

'The ceremony,
which was performed at St.

George's,
Hanover Square,
was a very quiet one,
no one being present save the father of the bride,
Mr. Aloysius Doran,
the Duchess of Balmoral,
Lord Backwater,
Lord Eustace,
and Lady Clara St.

Simon (the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom),
and Lady Alicia Whittington.

The whole party proceeded afterwards
to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran,
at Lancaster Gate,
where breakfast had been prepared.

It appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman,
whose name has not been ascertained,
who endeavored
to force her way in
to the house after the bridal party,
alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St.

Simon.

It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman.

The bride,
who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant interruption,
had sat down
to breakfast
with the rest,
when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired
to her room.

Her prolonged absence having caused some comment,
her father followed her,
but learned from her maid that she had only come up
to her chamber
for an instant,
caught up an ulster and bonnet,
and hurried down
to the passage.

One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled,
but had refused
to credit that it was his mistress,
believing her
to be
with the company.

On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared,
Mr. Aloysius Doran,
in conjunction
with the bridegroom,
instantly put themselves in communication
with the police,
and very energetic inquiries are being made,
which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business.

Up
to a late hour last night,
however,
nothing had transpired as
to the whereabouts of the missing lady.

There are rumours of foul play in the matter,
and it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original disturbance,
in the belief that,
from jealousy or some other motive,
she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride.'"
"And is that all?"


"Only one little item in another of the morning papers,
but it is a suggestive one."


"And it is--"
"That Miss Flora Millar,
the lady who had caused the disturbance,
has actually been arrested.

It appears that she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro,
and that she has known the bridegroom
for some years.

There are no further particulars,
and the whole case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the public press."


"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears
to be.

I would not have missed it
for worlds.

But there is a ring at the bell,
Watson,
and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four,
I have no doubt that this will prove
to be our noble client.

Do not dream of going,
Watson,

for I very much prefer having a witness,
if only as a check
to my own memory."


"Lord Robert St.

Simon," announced our page-boy,
throwing open the door.

A gentleman entered,

with a pleasant,
cultured face,
high-nosed and pale,

with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth,
and
with the steady,
well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been
to command and
to be obeyed.

His manner was brisk,
and yet his general appearance gave an undue impression of age,

for he had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked.

His hair,
too,
as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat,
was grizzled round the edges and thin upon the top.

As
to his dress,
it was careful
to the verge of foppishness,

with high collar,
black frock-coat,
white waistcoat,
yellow gloves,
patent-leather shoes,
and light-colored gaiters.

He advanced slowly in
to the room,
turning his head from left
to right,
and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses."

Good-day,
Lord St.

Simon," said Holmes,
rising and bowing.

"Pray take the basket-chair.

This is my friend and colleague,
Dr. Watson.

Draw up a little
to the fire,
and we will talk this matter over."


"A most painful matter
to me,
as you can most readily imagine,
Mr. Holmes.

I have been cut
to the quick.

I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort sir,
though I presume that they were har