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_posts/2018-07-24-not-all-posts.md

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+---
+title: ""
+layout: post
+author: "Pat Dryburgh"
+categories: opinion
+---
+
+Not all posts need a title.
+
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+
+They sometimes just want to be left alone.

_posts/2018-07-24-the-adventure-of-the-veiled-lodger.md

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-title: ""
-layout: post
-author: "Pat Dryburgh"
-categories: opinion
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_posts/2018-08-12-silver-blaze.md

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+---
+title: Silver Blaze
+author: Arthur Conan Doyle
+category: literature
+layout: post
+---
+
+
+“I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go,” said Holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning.
+
+“Go! Where to?”
+
+“To Dartmoor; to King's Pyland.”
+
+I was not surprised. Indeed, my only wonder was that he had not already been mixed up in this extraordinary case, which was the one topic of conversation through the length and breadth of England. For a whole day my companion had rambled about the room with his chin upon his chest and his brows knitted, charging and recharging his pipe with the strongest black tobacco, and absolutely deaf to any of my questions or remarks. Fresh editions of every paper had been sent up by our news agent, only to be glanced over and tossed down into a corner. Yet, silent as he was, I knew perfectly well what it was over which he was brooding. There was but one problem before the public which could challenge his powers of analysis, and that was the singular disappearance of the favorite for the Wessex Cup, and the tragic murder of its trainer. When, therefore, he suddenly announced his intention of setting out for the scene of the drama it was only what I had both expected and hoped for.
+
+“I should be most happy to go down with you if I should not be in the way,” said I.
+
+“My dear Watson, you would confer a great favour upon me by coming. And I think that your time will not be misspent, for there are points about the case which promise to make it an absolutely unique one. We have, I think, just time to catch our train at Paddington, and I will go further into the matter upon our journey. You would oblige me by bringing with you your very excellent field-glass.”
+
+And so it happened that an hour or so later I found myself in the corner of a first-class carriage flying along en route for Exeter, while Sherlock Holmes, with his sharp, eager face framed in his ear-flapped travelling-cap, dipped rapidly into the bundle of fresh papers which he had procured at Paddington. We had left Reading far behind us before he thrust the last one of them under the seat, and offered me his cigar-case.
+
+“We are going well,” said he, looking out the window and glancing at his watch. “Our rate at present is fifty-three and a half miles an hour.”
+
+“I have not observed the quarter-mile posts,” said I.
+
+“Nor have I. But the telegraph posts upon this line are sixty yards apart, and the calculation is a simple one. I presume that you have looked into this matter of the murder of John Straker and the disappearance of Silver Blaze?”
+
+“I have seen what the Telegraph and the Chronicle have to say.”
+
+“It is one of those cases where the art of the reasoner should be used rather for the sifting of details than for the acquiring of fresh evidence. The tragedy has been so uncommon, so complete and of such personal importance to so many people, that we are suffering from a plethora of surmise, conjecture, and hypothesis. The difficulty is to detach the framework of fact—of absolute undeniable fact—from the embellishments of theorists and reporters. Then, having established ourselves upon this sound basis, it is our duty to see what inferences may be drawn and what are the special points upon which the whole mystery turns. On Tuesday evening I received telegrams from both Colonel Ross, the owner of the horse, and from Inspector Gregory, who is looking after the case, inviting my cooperation.
+
+“Tuesday evening!” I exclaimed. “And this is Thursday morning. Why didn't you go down yesterday?”
+
+“Because I made a blunder, my dear Watson—which is, I am afraid, a more common occurrence than any one would think who only knew me through your memoirs. The fact is that I could not believe it possible that the most remarkable horse in England could long remain concealed, especially in so sparsely inhabited a place as the north of Dartmoor. From hour to hour yesterday I expected to hear that he had been found, and that his abductor was the murderer of John Straker. When, however, another morning had come, and I found that beyond the arrest of young Fitzroy Simpson nothing had been done, I felt that it was time for me to take action. Yet in some ways I feel that yesterday has not been wasted.”
+
+“You have formed a theory, then?”
+
+“At least I have got a grip of the essential facts of the case. I shall enumerate them to you, for nothing clears up a case so much as stating it to another person, and I can hardly expect your co-operation if I do not show you the position from which we start.”
+
+I lay back against the cushions, puffing at my cigar, while Holmes, leaning forward, with his long, thin forefinger checking off the points upon the palm of his left hand, gave me a sketch of the events which had led to our journey.
+
+“Silver Blaze,” said he, “is from the Somomy stock, and holds as brilliant a record as his famous ancestor. He is now in his fifth year, and has brought in turn each of the prizes of the turf to Colonel Ross, his fortunate owner. Up to the time of the catastrophe he was the first favorite for the Wessex Cup, the betting being three to one on him. He has always, however, been a prime favorite with the racing public, and has never yet disappointed them, so that even at those odds enormous sums of money have been laid upon him. It is obvious, therefore, that there were many people who had the strongest interest in preventing Silver Blaze from being there at the fall of the flag next Tuesday.
+
+“The fact was, of course, appreciated at King's Pyland, where the Colonel's training-stable is situated. Every precaution was taken to guard the favorite. The trainer, John Straker, is a retired jockey who rode in Colonel Ross's colors before he became too heavy for the weighing-chair. He has served the Colonel for five years as jockey and for seven as trainer, and has always shown himself to be a zealous and honest servant. Under him were three lads; for the establishment was a small one, containing only four horses in all. One of these lads sat up each night in the stable, while the others slept in the loft. All three bore excellent characters. John Straker, who is a married man, lived in a small villa about two hundred yards from the stables. He has no children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off. The country round is very lonely, but about half a mile to the north there is a small cluster of villas which have been built by a Tavistock contractor for the use of invalids and others who may wish to enjoy the pure Dartmoor air. Tavistock itself lies two miles to the west, while across the moor, also about two miles distant, is the larger training establishment of Mapleton, which belongs to Lord Backwater, and is managed by Silas Brown. In every other direction the moor is a complete wilderness, inhabited only by a few roaming gypsies. Such was the general situation last Monday night when the catastrophe occurred.
+
+“On that evening the horses had been exercised and watered as usual, and the stables were locked up at nine o'clock. Two of the lads walked up to the trainer's house, where they had supper in the kitchen, while the third, Ned Hunter, remained on guard. At a few minutes after nine the maid, Edith Baxter, carried down to the stables his supper, which consisted of a dish of curried mutton. She took no liquid, as there was a water-tap in the stables, and it was the rule that the lad on duty should drink nothing else. The maid carried a lantern with her, as it was very dark and the path ran across the open moor.
+
+“Edith Baxter was within thirty yards of the stables, when a man appeared out of the darkness and called to her to stop. As he stepped into the circle of yellow light thrown by the lantern she saw that he was a person of gentlemanly bearing, dressed in a gray suit of tweeds, with a cloth cap. He wore gaiters, and carried a heavy stick with a knob to it. She was most impressed, however, by the extreme pallor of his face and by the nervousness of his manner. His age, she thought, would be rather over thirty than under it.
+
+“‘Can you tell me where I am?’ he asked. ‘I had almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor, when I saw the light of your lantern.’
+
+“‘You are close to the King's Pyland training-stables,’ said she.
+
+“‘Oh, indeed! What a stroke of luck!’ he cried. ‘I understand that a stable-boy sleeps there alone every night. Perhaps that is his supper which you are carrying to him. Now I am sure that you would not be too proud to earn the price of a new dress, would you?’ He took a piece of white paper folded up out of his waistcoat pocket. ‘See that the boy has this to-night, and you shall have the prettiest frock that money can buy.’
+
+“She was frightened by the earnestness of his manner, and ran past him to the window through which she was accustomed to hand the meals. It was already opened, and Hunter was seated at the small table inside. She had begun to tell him of what had happened, when the stranger came up again.
+
+“‘Good-evening,’ said he, looking through the window. ‘I wanted to have a word with you.’ The girl has sworn that as he spoke she noticed the corner of the little paper packet protruding from his closed hand.
+
+“‘What business have you here?’ asked the lad.
+
+“‘It's business that may put something into your pocket,’ said the other. ‘You've two horses in for the Wessex Cup—Silver Blaze and Bayard. Let me have the straight tip and you won't be a loser. Is it a fact that at the weights Bayard could give the other a hundred yards in five furlongs, and that the stable have put their money on him?’
+
+“‘So, you're one of those damned touts!’ cried the lad. ‘I'll show you how we serve them in King's Pyland.’ He sprang up and rushed across the stable to unloose the dog. The girl fled away to the house, but as she ran she looked back and saw that the stranger was leaning through the window. A minute later, however, when Hunter rushed out with the hound he was gone, and though he ran all round the buildings he failed to find any trace of him.”
+
+“One moment,” I asked. “Did the stable-boy, when he ran out with the dog, leave the door unlocked behind him?”
+
+“Excellent, Watson, excellent!” murmured my companion. “The importance of the point struck me so forcibly that I sent a special wire to Dartmoor yesterday to clear the matter up. The boy locked the door before he left it. The window, I may add, was not large enough for a man to get through.
+
+“Hunter waited until his fellow-grooms had returned, when he sent a message to the trainer and told him what had occurred. Straker was excited at hearing the account, although he does not seem to have quite realized its true significance. It left him, however, vaguely uneasy, and Mrs. Straker, waking at one in the morning, found that he was dressing. In reply to her inquiries, he said that he could not sleep on account of his anxiety about the horses, and that he intended to walk down to the stables to see that all was well. She begged him to remain at home, as she could hear the rain pattering against the window, but in spite of her entreaties he pulled on his large mackintosh and left the house.
+
+“Mrs. Straker awoke at seven in the morning, to find that her husband had not yet returned. She dressed herself hastily, called the maid, and set off for the stables. The door was open; inside, huddled together upon a chair, Hunter was sunk in a state of absolute stupor, the favorite's stall was empty, and there were no signs of his trainer.
+
+“The two lads who slept in the chaff-cutting loft above the harness-room were quickly aroused. They had heard nothing during the night, for they are both sound sleepers. Hunter was obviously under the influence of some powerful drug, and as no sense could be got out of him, he was left to sleep it off while the two lads and the two women ran out in search of the absentees. They still had hopes that the trainer had for some reason taken out the horse for early exercise, but on ascending the knoll near the house, from which all the neighboring moors were visible, they not only could see no signs of the missing favorite, but they perceived something which warned them that they were in the presence of a tragedy.
+
+“About a quarter of a mile from the stables John Straker's overcoat was flapping from a furze-bush. Immediately beyond there was a bowl-shaped depression in the moor, and at the bottom of this was found the dead body of the unfortunate trainer. His head had been shattered by a savage blow from some heavy weapon, and he was wounded on the thigh, where there was a long, clean cut, inflicted evidently by some very sharp instrument. It was clear, however, that Straker had defended himself vigorously against his assailants, for in his right hand he held a small knife, which was clotted with blood up to the handle, while in his left he clasped a red and black silk cravat, which was recognized by the maid as having been worn on the preceding evening by the stranger who had visited the stables. Hunter, on recovering from his stupor, was also quite positive as to the ownership of the cravat. He was equally certain that the same stranger had, while standing at the window, drugged his curried mutton, and so deprived the stables of their watchman. As to the missing horse, there were abundant proofs in the mud which lay at the bottom of the fatal hollow that he had been there at the time of the struggle. But from that morning he has disappeared, and although a large reward has been offered, and all the gypsies of Dartmoor are on the alert, no news has come of him. Finally, an analysis has shown that the remains of his supper left by the stable-lad contain an appreciable quantity of powdered opium, while the people at the house partook of the same dish on the same night without any ill effect.
+
+“Those are the main facts of the case, stripped of all surmise, and stated as baldly as possible. I shall now recapitulate what the police have done in the matter.
+
+“Inspector Gregory, to whom the case has been committed, is an extremely competent officer. Were he but gifted with imagination he might rise to great heights in his profession. On his arrival he promptly found and arrested the man upon whom suspicion naturally rested. There was little difficulty in finding him, for he inhabited one of those villas which I have mentioned. His name, it appears, was Fitzroy Simpson. He was a man of excellent birth and education, who had squandered a fortune upon the turf, and who lived now by doing a little quiet and genteel book-making in the sporting clubs of London. An examination of his betting-book shows that bets to the amount of five thousand pounds had been registered by him against the favorite. On being arrested he volunteered the statement that he had come down to Dartmoor in the hope of getting some information about the King's Pyland horses, and also about Desborough, the second favorite, which was in charge of Silas Brown at the Mapleton stables. He did not attempt to deny that he had acted as described upon the evening before, but declared that he had no sinister designs, and had simply wished to obtain first-hand information. When confronted with his cravat, he turned very pale, and was utterly unable to account for its presence in the hand of the murdered man. His wet clothing showed that he had been out in the storm of the night before, and his stick, which was a Penang-lawyer weighted with lead, was just such a weapon as might, by repeated blows, have inflicted the terrible injuries to which the trainer had succumbed. On the other hand, there was no wound upon his person, while the state of Straker's knife would show that one at least of his assailants must bear his mark upon him. There you have it all in a nutshell, Watson, and if you can give me any light I shall be infinitely obliged to you.”
+
+I had listened with the greatest interest to the statement which Holmes, with characteristic clearness, had laid before me. Though most of the facts were familiar to me, I had not sufficiently appreciated their relative importance, nor their connection to each other.
+
+“Is in not possible,” I suggested, “that the incised wound upon Straker may have been caused by his own knife in the convulsive struggles which follow any brain injury?”
+
+“It is more than possible; it is probable,” said Holmes. “In that case one of the main points in favor of the accused disappears.”
+
+“And yet,” said I, “even now I fail to understand what the theory of the police can be.”
+
+“I am afraid that whatever theory we state has very grave objections to it,” returned my companion. “The police imagine, I take it, that this Fitzroy Simpson, having drugged the lad, and having in some way obtained a duplicate key, opened the stable door and took out the horse, with the intention, apparently, of kidnapping him altogether. His bridle is missing, so that Simpson must have put this on. Then, having left the door open behind him, he was leading the horse away over the moor, when he was either met or overtaken by the trainer. A row naturally ensued. Simpson beat out the trainer's brains with his heavy stick without receiving any injury from the small knife which Straker used in self-defence, and then the thief either led the horse on to some secret hiding-place, or else it may have bolted during the struggle, and be now wandering out on the moors. That is the case as it appears to the police, and improbable as it is, all other explanations are more improbable still. However, I shall very quickly test the matter when I am once upon the spot, and until then I cannot really see how we can get much further than our present position.”
+
+It was evening before we reached the little town of Tavistock, which lies, like the boss of a shield, in the middle of the huge circle of Dartmoor. Two gentlemen were awaiting us in the station—the one a tall, fair man with lion-like hair and beard and curiously penetrating light blue eyes; the other a small, alert person, very neat and dapper, in a frock-coat and gaiters, with trim little side-whiskers and an eye-glass. The latter was Colonel Ross, the well-known sportsman; the other, Inspector Gregory, a man who was rapidly making his name in the English detective service.
+
+“I am delighted that you have come down, Mr. Holmes,” said the Colonel. “The Inspector here has done all that could possibly be suggested, but I wish to leave no stone unturned in trying to avenge poor Straker and in recovering my horse.”
+
+“Have there been any fresh developments?” asked Holmes.
+
+“I am sorry to say that we have made very little progress,” said the Inspector. “We have an open carriage outside, and as you would no doubt like to see the place before the light fails, we might talk it over as we drive.”
+
+A minute later we were all seated in a comfortable landau, and were rattling through the quaint old Devonshire city. Inspector Gregory was full of his case, and poured out a stream of remarks, while Holmes threw in an occasional question or interjection. Colonel Ross leaned back with his arms folded and his hat tilted over his eyes, while I listened with interest to the dialogue of the two detectives. Gregory was formulating his theory, which was almost exactly what Holmes had foretold in the train.
+
+“The net is drawn pretty close round Fitzroy Simpson,” he remarked, “and I believe myself that he is our man. At the same time I recognize that the evidence is purely circumstantial, and that some new development may upset it.”
+
+“How about Straker's knife?”
+
+“We have quite come to the conclusion that he wounded himself in his fall.”
+
+“My friend Dr. Watson made that suggestion to me as we came down. If so, it would tell against this man Simpson.”
+
+“Undoubtedly. He has neither a knife nor any sign of a wound. The evidence against him is certainly very strong. He had a great interest in the disappearance of the favorite. He lies under suspicion of having poisoned the stable-boy, he was undoubtedly out in the storm, he was armed with a heavy stick, and his cravat was found in the dead man's hand. I really think we have enough to go before a jury.”
+
+Holmes shook his head. “A clever counsel would tear it all to rags,” said he. “Why should he take the horse out of the stable? If he wished to injure it why could he not do it there? Has a duplicate key been found in his possession? What chemist sold him the powdered opium? Above all, where could he, a stranger to the district, hide a horse, and such a horse as this? What is his own explanation as to the paper which he wished the maid to give to the stable-boy?”
+
+“He says that it was a ten-pound note. One was found in his purse. But your other difficulties are not so formidable as they seem. He is not a stranger to the district. He has twice lodged at Tavistock in the summer. The opium was probably brought from London. The key, having served its purpose, would be hurled away. The horse may be at the bottom of one of the pits or old mines upon the moor.”
+
+“What does he say about the cravat?”
+
+“He acknowledges that it is his, and declares that he had lost it. But a new element has been introduced into the case which may account for his leading the horse from the stable.”
+
+Holmes pricked up his ears.
+
+“We have found traces which show that a party of gypsies encamped on Monday night within a mile of the spot where the murder took place. On Tuesday they were gone. Now, presuming that there was some understanding between Simpson and these gypsies, might he not have been leading the horse to them when he was overtaken, and may they not have him now?”
+
+“It is certainly possible.”
+
+“The moor is being scoured for these gypsies. I have also examined every stable and out-house in Tavistock, and for a radius of ten miles.”
+
+“There is another training-stable quite close, I understand?”
+
+“Yes, and that is a factor which we must certainly not neglect. As Desborough, their horse, was second in the betting, they had an interest in the disappearance of the favorite. Silas Brown, the trainer, is known to have had large bets upon the event, and he was no friend to poor Straker. We have, however, examined the stables, and there is nothing to connect him with the affair.”
+
+“And nothing to connect this man Simpson with the interests of the Mapleton stables?”
+
+“Nothing at all.”
+
+Holmes leaned back in the carriage, and the conversation ceased. A few minutes later our driver pulled up at a neat little red-brick villa with overhanging eaves which stood by the road. Some distance off, across a paddock, lay a long gray-tiled out-building. In every other direction the low curves of the moor, bronze-colored from the fading ferns, stretched away to the sky-line, broken only by the steeples of Tavistock, and by a cluster of houses away to the westward which marked the Mapleton stables. We all sprang out with the exception of Holmes, who continued to lean back with his eyes fixed upon the sky in front of him, entirely absorbed in his own thoughts. It was only when I touched his arm that he roused himself with a violent start and stepped out of the carriage.
+
+“Excuse me,” said he, turning to Colonel Ross, who had looked at him in some surprise. “I was day-dreaming.” There was a gleam in his eyes and a suppressed excitement in his manner which convinced me, used as I was to his ways, that his hand was upon a clue, though I could not imagine where he had found it.
+
+“Perhaps you would prefer at once to go on to the scene of the crime, Mr. Holmes?” said Gregory.
+
+“I think that I should prefer to stay here a little and go into one or two questions of detail. Straker was brought back here, I presume?”
+
+“Yes; he lies upstairs. The inquest is to-morrow.”
+
+“He has been in your service some years, Colonel Ross?”
+
+“I have always found him an excellent servant.”
+
+“I presume that you made an inventory of what he had in this pockets at the time of his death, Inspector?”
+
+“I have the things themselves in the sitting-room, if you would care to see them.”
+
+“I should be very glad.” We all filed into the front room and sat round the central table while the Inspector unlocked a square tin box and laid a small heap of things before us. There was a box of vestas, two inches of tallow candle, an A D P brier-root pipe, a pouch of seal-skin with half an ounce of long-cut Cavendish, a silver watch with a gold chain, five sovereigns in gold, an aluminum pencil-case, a few papers, and an ivory-handled knife with a very delicate, inflexible blade marked Weiss & Co., London.
+
+“This is a very singular knife,” said Holmes, lifting it up and examining it minutely. “I presume, as I see blood-stains upon it, that it is the one which was found in the dead man's grasp. Watson, this knife is surely in your line?”
+
+“It is what we call a cataract knife,” said I.
+
+“I thought so. A very delicate blade devised for very delicate work. A strange thing for a man to carry with him upon a rough expedition, especially as it would not shut in his pocket.”
+
+“The tip was guarded by a disk of cork which we found beside his body,” said the Inspector. “His wife tells us that the knife had lain upon the dressing-table, and that he had picked it up as he left the room. It was a poor weapon, but perhaps the best that he could lay his hands on at the moment.”
+
+“Very possible. How about these papers?”
+
+“Three of them are receipted hay-dealers' accounts. One of them is a letter of instructions from Colonel Ross. This other is a milliner's account for thirty-seven pounds fifteen made out by Madame Lesurier, of Bond Street, to William Derbyshire. Mrs. Straker tells us that Derbyshire was a friend of her husband's and that occasionally his letters were addressed here.”
+
+“Madam Derbyshire had somewhat expensive tastes,” remarked Holmes, glancing down the account. “Twenty-two guineas is rather heavy for a single costume. However there appears to be nothing more to learn, and we may now go down to the scene of the crime.”
+
+As we emerged from the sitting-room a woman, who had been waiting in the passage, took a step forward and laid her hand upon the Inspector's sleeve. Her face was haggard and thin and eager, stamped with the print of a recent horror.
+
+“Have you got them? Have you found them?” she panted.
+
+“No, Mrs. Straker. But Mr. Holmes here has come from London to help us, and we shall do all that is possible.”
+
+“Surely I met you in Plymouth at a garden-party some little time ago, Mrs. Straker?” said Holmes.
+
+“No, sir; you are mistaken.”
+
+“Dear me! Why, I could have sworn to it. You wore a costume of dove-colored silk with ostrich-feather trimming.”
+
+“I never had such a dress, sir,” answered the lady.
+
+“Ah, that quite settles it,” said Holmes. And with an apology he followed the Inspector outside. A short walk across the moor took us to the hollow in which the body had been found. At the brink of it was the furze-bush upon which the coat had been hung.
+
+“There was no wind that night, I understand,” said Holmes.
+
+“None; but very heavy rain.”
+
+“In that case the overcoat was not blown against the furze-bush, but placed there.”
+
+“Yes, it was laid across the bush.”
+
+“You fill me with interest, I perceive that the ground has been trampled up a good deal. No doubt many feet have been here since Monday night.”
+
+“A piece of matting has been laid here at the side, and we have all stood upon that.”
+
+“Excellent.”
+
+“In this bag I have one of the boots which Straker wore, one of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes, and a cast horseshoe of Silver Blaze.”
+
+“My dear Inspector, you surpass yourself!” Holmes took the bag, and, descending into the hollow, he pushed the matting into a more central position. Then stretching himself upon his face and leaning his chin upon his hands, he made a careful study of the trampled mud in front of him. “Hullo!” said he, suddenly. “What's this?” It was a wax vesta half burned, which was so coated with mud that it looked at first like a little chip of wood.
+
+“I cannot think how I came to overlook it,” said the Inspector, with an expression of annoyance.
+
+“It was invisible, buried in the mud. I only saw it because I was looking for it.”
+
+“What! You expected to find it?”
+
+“I thought it not unlikely.”
+
+He took the boots from the bag, and compared the impressions of each of them with marks upon the ground. Then he clambered up to the rim of the hollow, and crawled about among the ferns and bushes.
+
+“I am afraid that there are no more tracks,” said the Inspector. “I have examined the ground very carefully for a hundred yards in each direction.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Holmes, rising. “I should not have the impertinence to do it again after what you say. But I should like to take a little walk over the moor before it grows dark, that I may know my ground to-morrow, and I think that I shall put this horseshoe into my pocket for luck.”
+
+Colonel Ross, who had shown some signs of impatience at my companion's quiet and systematic method of work, glanced at his watch. “I wish you would come back with me, Inspector,” said he. “There are several points on which I should like your advice, and especially as to whether we do not owe it to the public to remove our horse's name from the entries for the Cup.”
+
+“Certainly not,” cried Holmes, with decision. “I should let the name stand.”
+
+The Colonel bowed. “I am very glad to have had your opinion, sir,” said he. “You will find us at poor Straker's house when you have finished your walk, and we can drive together into Tavistock.”
+
+He turned back with the Inspector, while Holmes and I walked slowly across the moor. The sun was beginning to sink behind the stables of Mapleton, and the long, sloping plain in front of us was tinged with gold, deepening into rich, ruddy browns where the faded ferns and brambles caught the evening light. But the glories of the landscape were all wasted upon my companion, who was sunk in the deepest thought.
+
+“It's this way, Watson,” said he at last. “We may leave the question of who killed John Straker for the instant, and confine ourselves to finding out what has become of the horse. Now, supposing that he broke away during or after the tragedy, where could he have gone to? The horse is a very gregarious creature. If left to himself his instincts would have been either to return to King's Pyland or go over to Mapleton. Why should he run wild upon the moor? He would surely have been seen by now. And why should gypsies kidnap him? These people always clear out when they hear of trouble, for they do not wish to be pestered by the police. They could not hope to sell such a horse. They would run a great risk and gain nothing by taking him. Surely that is clear.”
+
+“Where is he, then?”
+
+“I have already said that he must have gone to King's Pyland or to Mapleton. He is not at King's Pyland. Therefore he is at Mapleton. Let us take that as a working hypothesis and see what it leads us to. This part of the moor, as the Inspector remarked, is very hard and dry. But it falls away towards Mapleton, and you can see from here that there is a long hollow over yonder, which must have been very wet on Monday night. If our supposition is correct, then the horse must have crossed that, and there is the point where we should look for his tracks.”
+
+We had been walking briskly during this conversation, and a few more minutes brought us to the hollow in question. At Holmes' request I walked down the bank to the right, and he to the left, but I had not taken fifty paces before I heard him give a shout, and saw him waving his hand to me. The track of a horse was plainly outlined in the soft earth in front of him, and the shoe which he took from his pocket exactly fitted the impression.
+
+“See the value of imagination,” said Holmes. “It is the one quality which Gregory lacks. We imagined what might have happened, acted upon the supposition, and find ourselves justified. Let us proceed.”
+
+We crossed the marshy bottom and passed over a quarter of a mile of dry, hard turf. Again the ground sloped, and again we came on the tracks. Then we lost them for half a mile, but only to pick them up once more quite close to Mapleton. It was Holmes who saw them first, and he stood pointing with a look of triumph upon his face. A man's track was visible beside the horse's.
+
+“The horse was alone before,” I cried.
+
+“Quite so. It was alone before. Hullo, what is this?”
+
+The double track turned sharp off and took the direction of King's Pyland. Holmes whistled, and we both followed along after it. His eyes were on the trail, but I happened to look a little to one side, and saw to my surprise the same tracks coming back again in the opposite direction.
+
+“One for you, Watson,” said Holmes, when I pointed it out. “You have saved us a long walk, which would have brought us back on our own traces. Let us follow the return track.”
+
+We had not to go far. It ended at the paving of asphalt which led up to the gates of the Mapleton stables. As we approached, a groom ran out from them.
+
+“We don't want any loiterers about here,” said he.
+
+“I only wished to ask a question,” said Holmes, with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. “Should I be too early to see your master, Mr. Silas Brown, if I were to call at five o'clock to-morrow morning?”
+
+“Bless you, sir, if any one is about he will be, for he is always the first stirring. But here he is, sir, to answer your questions for himself. No, sir, no; it is as much as my place is worth to let him see me touch your money. Afterwards, if you like.”
+
+As Sherlock Holmes replaced the half-crown which he had drawn from his pocket, a fierce-looking elderly man strode out from the gate with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand.
+
+“What's this, Dawson!” he cried. “No gossiping! Go about your business! And you, what the devil do you want here?”
+
+“Ten minutes' talk with you, my good sir,” said Holmes in the sweetest of voices.
+
+“I've no time to talk to every gadabout. We want no stranger here. Be off, or you may find a dog at your heels.”
+
+Holmes leaned forward and whispered something in the trainer's ear. He started violently and flushed to the temples.
+
+“It's a lie!” he shouted, “an infernal lie!”
+
+“Very good. Shall we argue about it here in public or talk it over in your parlor?”
+
+“Oh, come in if you wish to.”
+
+Holmes smiled. “I shall not keep you more than a few minutes, Watson,” said he. “Now, Mr. Brown, I am quite at your disposal.”
+
+It was twenty minutes, and the reds had all faded into grays before Holmes and the trainer reappeared. Never have I seen such a change as had been brought about in Silas Brown in that short time. His face was ashy pale, beads of perspiration shone upon his brow, and his hands shook until the hunting-crop wagged like a branch in the wind. His bullying, overbearing manner was all gone too, and he cringed along at my companion's side like a dog with its master.
+
+“Your instructions will be done. It shall all be done,” said he.
+
+“There must be no mistake,” said Holmes, looking round at him. The other winced as he read the menace in his eyes.
+
+“Oh no, there shall be no mistake. It shall be there. Should I change it first or not?”
+
+Holmes thought a little and then burst out laughing. “No, don't,” said he; “I shall write to you about it. No tricks, now, or—”
+
+“Oh, you can trust me, you can trust me!”
+
+“Yes, I think I can. Well, you shall hear from me to-morrow.” He turned upon his heel, disregarding the trembling hand which the other held out to him, and we set off for King's Pyland.
+
+“A more perfect compound of the bully, coward, and sneak than Master Silas Brown I have seldom met with,” remarked Holmes as we trudged along together.
+
+“He has the horse, then?”
+
+“He tried to bluster out of it, but I described to him so exactly what his actions had been upon that morning that he is convinced that I was watching him. Of course you observed the peculiarly square toes in the impressions, and that his own boots exactly corresponded to them. Again, of course no subordinate would have dared to do such a thing. I described to him how, when according to his custom he was the first down, he perceived a strange horse wandering over the moor. How he went out to it, and his astonishment at recognizing, from the white forehead which has given the favorite its name, that chance had put in his power the only horse which could beat the one upon which he had put his money. Then I described how his first impulse had been to lead him back to King's Pyland, and how the devil had shown him how he could hide the horse until the race was over, and how he had led it back and concealed it at Mapleton. When I told him every detail he gave it up and thought only of saving his own skin.”
+
+“But his stables had been searched?”
+
+“Oh, and old horse-faker like him has many a dodge.”
+
+“But are you not afraid to leave the horse in his power now, since he has every interest in injuring it?”
+
+“My dear fellow, he will guard it as the apple of his eye. He knows that his only hope of mercy is to produce it safe.”
+
+“Colonel Ross did not impress me as a man who would be likely to show much mercy in any case.”
+
+“The matter does not rest with Colonel Ross. I follow my own methods, and tell as much or as little as I choose. That is the advantage of being unofficial. I don't know whether you observed it, Watson, but the Colonel's manner has been just a trifle cavalier to me. I am inclined now to have a little amusement at his expense. Say nothing to him about the horse.”
+
+“Certainly not without your permission.”
+
+“And of course this is all quite a minor point compared to the question of who killed John Straker.”
+
+“And you will devote yourself to that?”
+
+“On the contrary, we both go back to London by the night train.”
+
+I was thunderstruck by my friend's words. We had only been a few hours in Devonshire, and that he should give up an investigation which he had begun so brilliantly was quite incomprehensible to me. Not a word more could I draw from him until we were back at the trainer's house. The Colonel and the Inspector were awaiting us in the parlor.
+
+“My friend and I return to town by the night-express,” said Holmes. “We have had a charming little breath of your beautiful Dartmoor air.”
+
+The Inspector opened his eyes, and the Colonel's lip curled in a sneer.
+
+“So you despair of arresting the murderer of poor Straker,” said he.
+
+Holmes shrugged his shoulders. “There are certainly grave difficulties in the way,” said he. “I have every hope, however, that your horse will start upon Tuesday, and I beg that you will have your jockey in readiness. Might I ask for a photograph of Mr. John Straker?”
+
+The Inspector took one from an envelope and handed it to him.
+
+“My dear Gregory, you anticipate all my wants. If I might ask you to wait here for an instant, I have a question which I should like to put to the maid.”
+
+“I must say that I am rather disappointed in our London consultant,” said Colonel Ross, bluntly, as my friend left the room. “I do not see that we are any further than when he came.”
+
+“At least you have his assurance that your horse will run,” said I.
+
+“Yes, I have his assurance,” said the Colonel, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I should prefer to have the horse.”
+
+I was about to make some reply in defence of my friend when he entered the room again.
+
+“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “I am quite ready for Tavistock.”
+
+As we stepped into the carriage one of the stable-lads held the door open for us. A sudden idea seemed to occur to Holmes, for he leaned forward and touched the lad upon the sleeve.
+
+“You have a few sheep in the paddock,” he said. “Who attends to them?”
+
+“I do, sir.”
+
+“Have you noticed anything amiss with them of late?”
+
+“Well, sir, not of much account; but three of them have gone lame, sir.”
+
+I could see that Holmes was extremely pleased, for he chuckled and rubbed his hands together.
+
+“A long shot, Watson; a very long shot,” said he, pinching my arm. “Gregory, let me recommend to your attention this singular epidemic among the sheep. Drive on, coachman!”
+
+Colonel Ross still wore an expression which showed the poor opinion which he had formed of my companion's ability, but I saw by the Inspector's face that his attention had been keenly aroused.
+
+“You consider that to be important?” he asked.
+
+“Exceedingly so.”
+
+“Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?”
+
+“To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”
+
+“The dog did nothing in the night-time.”
+
+“That was the curious incident,” remarked Sherlock Holmes.
+
+Four days later Holmes and I were again in the train, bound for Winchester to see the race for the Wessex Cup. Colonel Ross met us by appointment outside the station, and we drove in his drag to the course beyond the town. His face was grave, and his manner was cold in the extreme.
+
+“I have seen nothing of my horse,” said he.
+
+“I suppose that you would know him when you saw him?” asked Holmes.
+
+The Colonel was very angry. “I have been on the turf for twenty years, and never was asked such a question as that before,” said he. “A child would know Silver Blaze, with his white forehead and his mottled off-foreleg.”
+
+“How is the betting?”
+
+“Well, that is the curious part of it. You could have got fifteen to one yesterday, but the price has become shorter and shorter, until you can hardly get three to one now.”
+
+“Hum!” said Holmes. “Somebody knows something, that is clear.”
+
+As the drag drew up in the enclosure near the grand stand I glanced at the card to see the entries.
+
+Wessex Plate [it ran] 50 sovs. each h ft with 1000 sovs. added, for four and five year olds. Second, £300. Third, £200. New course (one mile and five furlongs).
+1.  Mr Heath Newton's The Negro. Red cap. Cinnamon jacket.
+2.  Colonel Wardlaw's Pugilist. Pink cap. Blue and black jacket.
+3.  Lord Backwater's Desborough. Yellow cap and sleeves.
+4.  Colonel Ross's Silver Blaze. Black cap. Red jacket.
+5.  Duke of Balmoral's Iris. Yellow and black stripes.
+6.  Lord Singleford's Rasper. Purple cap. Black sleeves.
+“We scratched our other one, and put all hopes on your word,” said the Colonel. “Why, what is that? Silver Blaze favorite?”
+
+“Five to four against Silver Blaze!” roared the ring. “Five to four against Silver Blaze! Five to fifteen against Desborough! Five to four on the field!”
+
+“There are the numbers up,” I cried. “They are all six there.”
+
+“All six there? Then my horse is running,” cried the Colonel in great agitation. “But I don't see him. My colors have not passed.”
+
+“Only five have passed. This must be he.”
+
+As I spoke a powerful bay horse swept out from the weighting enclosure and cantered past us, bearing on its back the well-known black and red of the Colonel.
+
+“That's not my horse,” cried the owner. “That beast has not a white hair upon its body. What is this that you have done, Mr. Holmes?”
+
+“Well, well, let us see how he gets on,” said my friend, imperturbably. For a few minutes he gazed through my field-glass. “Capital! An excellent start!” he cried suddenly. “There they are, coming round the curve!”
+
+From our drag we had a superb view as they came up the straight. The six horses were so close together that a carpet could have covered them, but half way up the yellow of the Mapleton stable showed to the front. Before they reached us, however, Desborough's bolt was shot, and the Colonel's horse, coming away with a rush, passed the post a good six lengths before its rival, the Duke of Balmoral's Iris making a bad third.
+
+“It's my race, anyhow,” gasped the Colonel, passing his hand over his eyes. “I confess that I can make neither head nor tail of it. Don't you think that you have kept up your mystery long enough, Mr. Holmes?”
+
+“Certainly, Colonel, you shall know everything. Let us all go round and have a look at the horse together. Here he is,” he continued, as we made our way into the weighing enclosure, where only owners and their friends find admittance. “You have only to wash his face and his leg in spirits of wine, and you will find that he is the same old Silver Blaze as ever.”
+
+“You take my breath away!”
+
+“I found him in the hands of a faker, and took the liberty of running him just as he was sent over.”
+
+“My dear sir, you have done wonders. The horse looks very fit and well. It never went better in its life. I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your ability. You have done me a great service by recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.”
+
+“I have done so,” said Holmes quietly.
+
+The Colonel and I stared at him in amazement. “You have got him! Where is he, then?”
+
+“He is here.”
+
+“Here! Where?”
+
+“In my company at the present moment.”
+
+The Colonel flushed angrily. “I quite recognize that I am under obligations to you, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but I must regard what you have just said as either a very bad joke or an insult.”
+
+Sherlock Holmes laughed. “I assure you that I have not associated you with the crime, Colonel,” said he. “The real murderer is standing immediately behind you.” He stepped past and laid his hand upon the glossy neck of the thoroughbred.
+
+“The horse!” cried both the Colonel and myself.
+
+“Yes, the horse. And it may lessen his guilt if I say that it was done in self-defence, and that John Straker was a man who was entirely unworthy of your confidence. But there goes the bell, and as I stand to win a little on this next race, I shall defer a lengthy explanation until a more fitting time.”
+
+We had the corner of a Pullman car to ourselves that evening as we whirled back to London, and I fancy that the journey was a short one to Colonel Ross as well as to myself, as we listened to our companion's narrative of the events which had occurred at the Dartmoor training-stables upon the Monday night, and the means by which he had unravelled them.
+
+“I confess,” said he, “that any theories which I had formed from the newspaper reports were entirely erroneous. And yet there were indications there, had they not been overlaid by other details which concealed their true import. I went to Devonshire with the conviction that Fitzroy Simpson was the true culprit, although, of course, I saw that the evidence against him was by no means complete. It was while I was in the carriage, just as we reached the trainer's house, that the immense significance of the curried mutton occurred to me. You may remember that I was distrait, and remained sitting after you had all alighted. I was marvelling in my own mind how I could possibly have overlooked so obvious a clue.”
+
+“I confess,” said the Colonel, “that even now I cannot see how it helps us.”
+
+“It was the first link in my chain of reasoning. Powdered opium is by no means tasteless. The flavor is not disagreeable, but it is perceptible. Were it mixed with any ordinary dish the eater would undoubtedly detect it, and would probably eat no more. A curry was exactly the medium which would disguise this taste. By no possible supposition could this stranger, Fitzroy Simpson, have caused curry to be served in the trainer's family that night, and it is surely too monstrous a coincidence to suppose that he happened to come along with powdered opium upon the very night when a dish happened to be served which would disguise the flavor. That is unthinkable. Therefore Simpson becomes eliminated from the case, and our attention centers upon Straker and his wife, the only two people who could have chosen curried mutton for supper that night. The opium was added after the dish was set aside for the stable-boy, for the others had the same for supper with no ill effects. Which of them, then, had access to that dish without the maid seeing them?
+
+“Before deciding that question I had grasped the significance of the silence of the dog, for one true inference invariably suggests others. The Simpson incident had shown me that a dog was kept in the stables, and yet, though some one had been in and had fetched out a horse, he had not barked enough to arouse the two lads in the loft. Obviously the midnight visitor was some one whom the dog knew well.
+
+“I was already convinced, or almost convinced, that John Straker went down to the stables in the dead of the night and took out Silver Blaze. For what purpose? For a dishonest one, obviously, or why should he drug his own stable-boy? And yet I was at a loss to know why. There have been cases before now where trainers have made sure of great sums of money by laying against their own horses, through agents, and then preventing them from winning by fraud. Sometimes it is a pulling jockey. Sometimes it is some surer and subtler means. What was it here? I hoped that the contents of his pockets might help me to form a conclusion.
+
+“And they did so. You cannot have forgotten the singular knife which was found in the dead man's hand, a knife which certainly no sane man would choose for a weapon. It was, as Dr. Watson told us, a form of knife which is used for the most delicate operations known in surgery. And it was to be used for a delicate operation that night. You must know, with your wide experience of turf matters, Colonel Ross, that it is possible to make a slight nick upon the tendons of a horse's ham, and to do it subcutaneously, so as to leave absolutely no trace. A horse so treated would develop a slight lameness, which would be put down to a strain in exercise or a touch of rheumatism, but never to foul play.”
+
+“Villain! Scoundrel!” cried the Colonel.
+
+“We have here the explanation of why John Straker wished to take the horse out on to the moor. So spirited a creature would have certainly roused the soundest of sleepers when it felt the prick of the knife. It was absolutely necessary to do it in the open air.”
+
+“I have been blind!” cried the Colonel. “Of course that was why he needed the candle, and struck the match.”
+
+“Undoubtedly. But in examining his belongings I was fortunate enough to discover not only the method of the crime, but even its motives. As a man of the world, Colonel, you know that men do not carry other people's bills about in their pockets. We have most of us quite enough to do to settle our own. I at once concluded that Straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment. The nature of the bill showed that there was a lady in the case, and one who had expensive tastes. Liberal as you are with your servants, one can hardly expect that they can buy twenty-guinea walking dresses for their ladies. I questioned Mrs. Straker as to the dress without her knowing it, and having satisfied myself that it had never reached her, I made a note of the milliner's address, and felt that by calling there with Straker's photograph I could easily dispose of the mythical Derbyshire.
+
+“From that time on all was plain. Straker had led out the horse to a hollow where his light would be invisible. Simpson in his flight had dropped his cravat, and Straker had picked it up—with some idea, perhaps, that he might use it in securing the horse's leg. Once in the hollow, he had got behind the horse and had struck a light; but the creature frightened at the sudden glare, and with the strange instinct of animals feeling that some mischief was intended, had lashed out, and the steel shoe had struck Straker full on the forehead. He had already, in spite of the rain, taken off his overcoat in order to do his delicate task, and so, as he fell, his knife gashed his thigh. Do I make it clear?”
+
+“Wonderful!” cried the Colonel. “Wonderful! You might have been there!”
+
+“My final shot was, I confess a very long one. It struck me that so astute a man as Straker would not undertake this delicate tendon-nicking without a little practice. What could he practice on? My eyes fell upon the sheep, and I asked a question which, rather to my surprise, showed that my surmise was correct.
+
+“When I returned to London I called upon the milliner, who had recognized Straker as an excellent customer of the name of Derbyshire, who had a very dashing wife, with a strong partiality for expensive dresses. I have no doubt that this woman had plunged him over head and ears in debt, and so led him into this miserable plot.”
+
+“You have explained all but one thing,” cried the Colonel. “Where was the horse?”
+
+“Ah, it bolted, and was cared for by one of your neighbors. We must have an amnesty in that direction, I think. This is Clapham Junction, if I am not mistaken, and we shall be in Victoria in less than ten minutes. If you care to smoke a cigar in our rooms, Colonel, I shall be happy to give you any other details which might interest you.”

_posts/2018-08-12-the-adventure-of-charles-augustus-milverton.md

@@ -0,0 +1,735 @@
+---
+title: The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton
+layout: post
+author: Arthur Conan Doyle
+category: literature
+---
+
+It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet
+it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even
+with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been
+impossible to make the facts public; but now the principal person
+concerned is beyond the reach of human law, and with due suppression
+the story may be told in such fashion as to injure no one. It records
+an absolutely unique experience in the career both of Mr. Sherlock
+Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me if I conceal the date
+or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence.
+
+We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had
+returned about six o'clock on a cold, frosty winter's evening. As
+Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He
+glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on
+the floor. I picked it up and read:--
+                              
+>Charles Augustus Milverton,                              
+>Appledore Towers,  
+>Hampstead.  
+>Agent.  
+                               
+"Who is he?" I asked.
+
+"The worst man in London," Holmes answered, as he sat down and
+stretched his legs before the fire. "Is anything on the back of the
+card?"
+
+I turned it over.
+
+"Will call at 6.30--C.A.M.," I read.
+
+"Hum! He's about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation,
+Watson, when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo and see the
+slithery, gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and
+wicked, flattened faces? Well, that's how Milverton impresses me.
+I've had to do with fifty murderers in my career, but the worst of
+them never gave me the repulsion which I have for this fellow. And
+yet I can't get out of doing business with him--indeed, he is here at
+my invitation."
+
+"But who is he?"
+
+"I'll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers.
+Heaven help the man, and still more the woman, whose secret and
+reputation come into the power of Milverton. With a smiling face and
+a heart of marble he will squeeze and squeeze until he has drained
+them dry. The fellow is a genius in his way, and would have made his
+mark in some more savoury trade. His method is as follows: He allows
+it to be known that he is prepared to pay very high sums for letters
+which compromise people of wealth or position. He receives these
+wares not only from treacherous valets or maids, but frequently from
+genteel ruffians who have gained the confidence and affection of
+trusting women. He deals with no niggard hand. I happen to know that
+he paid seven hundred pounds to a footman for a note two lines in
+length, and that the ruin of a noble family was the result.
+Everything which is in the market goes to Milverton, and there are
+hundreds in this great city who turn white at his name. No one knows
+where his grip may fall, for he is far too rich and far too cunning
+to work from hand to mouth. He will hold a card back for years in
+order to play it at the moment when the stake is best worth winning.
+I have said that he is the worst man in London, and I would ask you
+how could one compare the ruffian who in hot blood bludgeons his mate
+with this man, who methodically and at his leisure tortures the soul
+and wrings the nerves in order to add to his already swollen
+money-bags?"
+
+I had seldom heard my friend speak with such intensity of feeling.
+
+"But surely," said I, "the fellow must be within the grasp of the
+law?"
+
+"Technically, no doubt, but practically not. What would it profit a
+woman, for example, to get him a few months' imprisonment if her own
+ruin must immediately follow? His victims dare not hit back. If ever
+he blackmailed an innocent person, then, indeed, we should have him;
+but he is as cunning as the Evil One. No, no; we must find other ways
+to fight him."
+
+"And why is he here?"
+
+"Because an illustrious client has placed her piteous case in my
+hands. It is the Lady Eva Brackwell, the most beautiful debutante of
+last season. She is to be married in a fortnight to the Earl of
+Dovercourt. This fiend has several imprudent letters--imprudent,
+Watson, nothing worse--which were written to an impecunious young
+squire in the country. They would suffice to break off the match.
+Milverton will send the letters to the Earl unless a large sum of
+money is paid him. I have been commissioned to meet him, and--to make
+the best terms I can."
+
+At that instant there was a clatter and a rattle in the street below.
+Looking down I saw a stately carriage and pair, the brilliant lamps
+gleaming on the glossy haunches of the noble chestnuts. A footman
+opened the door, and a small, stout man in a shaggy astrachan
+overcoat descended. A minute later he was in the room.
+
+Charles Augustus Milverton was a man of fifty, with a large,
+intellectual head, a round, plump, hairless face, a perpetual frozen
+smile, and two keen grey eyes, which gleamed brightly from behind
+broad, golden-rimmed glasses. There was something of Mr. Pickwick's
+benevolence in his appearance, marred only by the insincerity of the
+fixed smile and by the hard glitter of those restless and penetrating
+eyes. His voice was as smooth and suave as his countenance, as he
+advanced with a plump little hand extended, murmuring his regret for
+having missed us at his first visit. Holmes disregarded the
+outstretched hand and looked at him with a face of granite.
+Milverton's smile broadened; he shrugged his shoulders, removed his
+overcoat, folded it with great deliberation over the back of a chair,
+and then took a seat.
+
+"This gentleman?" said he, with a wave in my direction. "Is it
+discreet? Is it right?"
+
+"Dr. Watson is my friend and partner."
+
+"Very good, Mr. Holmes. It is only in your client's interests that I
+protested. The matter is so very delicate--"
+
+"Dr. Watson has already heard of it."
+
+"Then we can proceed to business. You say that you are acting for
+Lady Eva. Has she empowered you to accept my terms?"
+
+"What are your terms?"
+
+"Seven thousand pounds."
+
+"And the alternative?"
+
+"My dear sir, it is painful for me to discuss it; but if the money is
+not paid on the 14th there certainly will be no marriage on the
+18th." His insufferable smile was more complacent than ever.
+
+Holmes thought for a little.
+
+"You appear to me," he said, at last, "to be taking matters too much
+for granted. I am, of course, familiar with the contents of these
+letters. My client will certainly do what I may advise. I shall
+counsel her to tell her future husband the whole story and to trust
+to his generosity."
+
+Milverton chuckled.
+
+"You evidently do not know the Earl," said he.
+
+From the baffled look upon Holmes's face I could see clearly that he
+did.
+
+"What harm is there in the letters?" he asked.
+
+"They are sprightly--very sprightly," Milverton answered. "The lady
+was a charming correspondent. But I can assure you that the Earl of
+Dovercourt would fail to appreciate them. However, since you think
+otherwise, we will let it rest at that. It is purely a matter of
+business. If you think that it is in the best interests of your
+client that these letters should be placed in the hands of the Earl,
+then you would indeed be foolish to pay so large a sum of money to
+regain them." He rose and seized his astrachan coat.
+
+Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.
+
+"Wait a little," he said. "You go too fast. We would certainly make
+every effort to avoid scandal in so delicate a matter."
+
+Milverton relapsed into his chair.
+
+"I was sure that you would see it in that light," he purred.
+
+"At the same time," Holmes continued, "Lady Eva is not a wealthy
+woman. I assure you that two thousand pounds would be a drain upon
+her resources, and that the sum you name is utterly beyond her power.
+I beg, therefore, that you will moderate your demands, and that you
+will return the letters at the price I indicate, which is, I assure
+you, the highest that you can get."
+
+Milverton's smile broadened and his eyes twinkled humorously.
+
+"I am aware that what you say is true about the lady's resources,"
+said he. "At the same time, you must admit that the occasion of a
+lady's marriage is a very suitable time for her friends and relatives
+to make some little effort upon her behalf. They may hesitate as to
+an acceptable wedding present. Let me assure them that this little
+bundle of letters would give more joy than all the candelabra and
+butter-dishes in London."
+
+"It is impossible," said Holmes.
+
+"Dear me, dear me, how unfortunate!" cried Milverton, taking out a
+bulky pocket-book. "I cannot help thinking that ladies are
+ill-advised in not making an effort. Look at this!" He held up a
+little note with a coat-of-arms upon the envelope. "That belongs
+to--well, perhaps it is hardly fair to tell the name until to-morrow
+morning. But at that time it will be in the hands of the lady's
+husband. And all because she will not find a beggarly sum which she
+could get by turning her diamonds into paste. It is such a pity. Now,
+you remember the sudden end of the engagement between the Honourable
+Miss Miles and Colonel Dorking? Only two days before the wedding
+there was a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that it was all off.
+And why? It is almost incredible, but the absurd sum of twelve
+hundred pounds would have settled the whole question. Is it not
+pitiful? And here I find you, a man of sense, boggling about terms
+when your client's future and honour are at stake. You surprise me,
+Mr. Holmes."
+
+"What I say is true," Holmes answered. "The money cannot be found.
+Surely it is better for you to take the substantial sum which I offer
+than to ruin this woman's career, which can profit you in no way?"
+
+"There you make a mistake, Mr. Holmes. An exposure would profit me
+indirectly to a considerable extent. I have eight or ten similar
+cases maturing. If it was circulated among them that I had made a
+severe example of the Lady Eva I should find all of them much more
+open to reason. You see my point?"
+
+Holmes sprang from his chair.
+
+"Get behind him, Watson! Don't let him out! Now, sir, let us see the
+contents of that note-book."
+
+Milverton had glided as quick as a rat to the side of the room, and
+stood with his back against the wall.
+
+"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," he said, turning the front of his coat and
+exhibiting the butt of a large revolver, which projected from the
+inside pocket. "I have been expecting you to do something original.
+This has been done so often, and what good has ever come from it? I
+assure you that I am armed to the teeth, and I am perfectly prepared
+to use my weapons, knowing that the law will support me. Besides,
+your supposition that I would bring the letters here in a note-book
+is entirely mistaken. I would do nothing so foolish. And now,
+gentlemen, I have one or two little interviews this evening, and it
+is a long drive to Hampstead." He stepped forward, took up his coat,
+laid his hand on his revolver, and turned to the door. I picked up a
+chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again. With bow,
+a smile, and a twinkle Milverton was out of the room, and a few
+moments after we heard the slam of the carriage door and the rattle
+of the wheels as he drove away.
+
+Holmes sat motionless by the fire, his hands buried deep in his
+trouser pockets, his chin sunk upon his breast, his eyes fixed upon
+the glowing embers. For half an hour he was silent and still. Then,
+with the gesture of a man who has taken his decision, he sprang to
+his feet and passed into his bedroom. A little later a rakish young
+workman with a goatee beard and a swagger lit his clay pipe at the
+lamp before descending into the street. "I'll be back some time,
+Watson," said he, and vanished into the night. I understood that he
+had opened his campaign against Charles Augustus Milverton; but I
+little dreamed the strange shape which that campaign was destined to
+take.
+
+For some days Holmes came and went at all hours in this attire, but
+beyond a remark that his time was spent at Hampstead, and that it was
+not wasted, I knew nothing of what he was doing. At last, however, on
+a wild, tempestuous evening, when the wind screamed and rattled
+against the windows, he returned from his last expedition, and having
+removed his disguise he sat before the fire and laughed heartily in
+his silent inward fashion.
+
+"You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?"
+
+"No, indeed!"
+
+"You'll be interested to hear that I am engaged."
+
+"My dear fellow! I congrat--"
+
+"To Milverton's housemaid."
+
+"Good heavens, Holmes!"
+
+"I wanted information, Watson."
+
+"Surely you have gone too far?"
+
+"It was a most necessary step. I am a plumber with a rising business,
+Escott by name. I have walked out with her each evening, and I have
+talked with her. Good heavens, those talks! However, I have got all I
+wanted. I know Milverton's house as I know the palm of my hand."
+
+"But the girl, Holmes?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can't help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best
+you can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say
+that I have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant
+that my back is turned. What a splendid night it is!"
+
+"You like this weather?"
+
+"It suits my purpose. Watson, I mean to burgle Milverton's house
+to-night."
+
+I had a catching of the breath, and my skin went cold at the words,
+which were slowly uttered in a tone of concentrated resolution. As a
+flash of lightning in the night shows up in an instant every detail
+of a wide landscape, so at one glance I seemed to see every possible
+result of such an action--the detection, the capture, the honoured
+career ending in irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself
+lying at the mercy of the odious Milverton.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Holmes, think what you are doing," I cried.
+
+"My dear fellow, I have given it every consideration. I am never
+precipitate in my actions, nor would I adopt so energetic and indeed
+so dangerous a course if any other were possible. Let us look at the
+matter clearly and fairly. I suppose that you will admit that the
+action is morally justifiable, though technically criminal. To burgle
+his house is no more than to forcibly take his pocket-book--an action
+in which you were prepared to aid me."
+
+I turned it over in my mind.
+
+"Yes," I said; "it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to
+take no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose."
+
+"Exactly. Since it is morally justifiable I have only to consider the
+question of personal risk. Surely a gentleman should not lay much
+stress upon this when a lady is in most desperate need of his help?"
+
+"You will be in such a false position."
+
+"Well, that is part of the risk. There is no other possible way of
+regaining these letters. The unfortunate lady has not the money, and
+there are none of her people in whom she could confide. To-morrow is
+the last day of grace, and unless we can get the letters to-night
+this villain will be as good as his word and will bring about her
+ruin. I must, therefore, abandon my client to her fate or I must play
+this last card. Between ourselves, Watson, it's a sporting duel
+between this fellow Milverton and me. He had, as you saw, the best of
+the first exchanges; but my self-respect and my reputation are
+concerned to fight it to a finish."
+
+"Well, I don't like it; but I suppose it must be," said I. "When do
+we start?"
+
+"You are not coming."
+
+"Then you are not going," said I. "I give you my word of honour--and
+I never broke it in my life--that I will take a cab straight to the
+police-station and give you away unless you let me share this
+adventure with you."
+
+"You can't help me."
+
+"How do you know that? You can't tell what may happen. Anyway, my
+resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and
+even reputations."
+
+Holmes had looked annoyed, but his brow cleared, and he clapped me on
+the shoulder.
+
+"Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room
+for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the
+same cell. You know, Watson, I don't mind confessing to you that I
+have always had an idea that I would have made a highly efficient
+criminal. This is the chance of my lifetime in that direction. See
+here!" He took a neat little leather case out of a drawer, and
+opening it he exhibited a number of shining instruments. "This is a
+first-class, up-to-date burgling kit, with nickel-plated jemmy,
+diamond-tipped glass-cutter, adaptable keys, and every modern
+improvement which the march of civilization demands. Here, too, is my
+dark lantern. Everything is in order. Have you a pair of silent
+shoes?"
+
+"I have rubber-soled tennis shoes."
+
+"Excellent. And a mask?"
+
+"I can make a couple out of black silk."
+
+"I can see that you have a strong natural turn for this sort of
+thing. Very good; do you make the masks. We shall have some cold
+supper before we start. It is now nine-thirty. At eleven we shall
+drive as far as Church Row. It is a quarter of an hour's walk from
+there to Appledore Towers. We shall be at work before midnight.
+Milverton is a heavy sleeper and retires punctually at ten-thirty.
+With any luck we should be back here by two, with the Lady Eva's
+letters in my pocket."
+
+Holmes and I put on our dress-clothes, so that we might appear to be
+two theatre-goers homeward bound. In Oxford Street we picked up a
+hansom and drove to an address in Hampstead. Here we paid off our
+cab, and with our great-coats buttoned up, for it was bitterly cold
+and the wind seemed to blow through us, we walked along the edge of
+the Heath.
+
+"It's a business that needs delicate treatment," said Holmes. "These
+documents are contained in a safe in the fellow's study, and the
+study is the ante-room of his bed-chamber. On the other hand, like
+all these stout, little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric
+sleeper. Agatha--that's my fiancee--says it is a joke in the
+servants' hall that it's impossible to wake the master. He has a
+secretary who is devoted to his interests and never budges from the
+study all day. That's why we are going at night. Then he has a beast
+of a dog which roams the garden. I met Agatha late the last two
+evenings, and she locks the brute up so as to give me a clear run.
+This is the house, this big one in its own grounds. Through the
+gate--now to the right among the laurels. We might put on our masks
+here, I think. You see, there is not a glimmer of light in any of the
+windows, and everything is working splendidly."
+
+With our black silk face-coverings, which turned us into two of the
+most truculent figures in London, we stole up to the silent, gloomy
+house. A sort of tiled veranda extended along one side of it, lined
+by several windows and two doors.
+
+"That's his bedroom," Holmes whispered. "This door opens straight
+into the study. It would suit us best, but it is bolted as well as
+locked, and we should make too much noise getting in. Come round
+here. There's a greenhouse which opens into the drawing-room."
+
+The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned
+the key from the inside. An instant afterwards he had closed the door
+behind us, and we had become felons in the eyes of the law. The
+thick, warm air of the conservatory and the rich, choking fragrance
+of exotic plants took us by the throat. He seized my hand in the
+darkness and led me swiftly past banks of shrubs which brushed
+against our faces. Holmes had remarkable powers, carefully
+cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand in one of
+his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had entered
+a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before. He
+felt his way among the furniture, opened another door, and closed it
+behind us. Putting out my hand I felt several coats hanging from the
+wall, and I understood that I was in a passage. We passed along it,
+and Holmes very gently opened a door upon the right-hand side.
+Something rushed out at us and my heart sprang into my mouth, but I
+could have laughed when I realized that it was the cat. A fire was
+burning in this new room, and again the air was heavy with tobacco
+smoke. Holmes entered on tiptoe, waited for me to follow, and then
+very gently closed the door. We were in Milverton's study, and a
+portiere at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.
+
+It was a good fire, and the room was illuminated by it. Near the door
+I saw the gleam of an electric switch, but it was unnecessary, even
+if it had been safe, to turn it on. At one side of the fireplace was
+a heavy curtain, which covered the bay window we had seen from
+outside. On the other side was the door which communicated with the
+veranda. A desk stood in the centre, with a turning chair of shining
+red leather. Opposite was a large bookcase, with a marble bust of
+Athene on the top. In the corner between the bookcase and the wall
+there stood a tall green safe, the firelight flashing back from the
+polished brass knobs upon its face. Holmes stole across and looked at
+it. Then he crept to the door of the bedroom, and stood with slanting
+head listening intently. No sound came from within. Meanwhile it had
+struck me that it would be wise to secure our retreat through the
+outer door, so I examined it. To my amazement it was neither locked
+nor bolted! I touched Holmes on the arm, and he turned his masked
+face in that direction. I saw him start, and he was evidently as
+surprised as I.
+
+"I don't like it," he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear. "I
+can't quite make it out. Anyhow, we have no time to lose."
+
+"Can I do anything?"
+
+"Yes; stand by the door. If you hear anyone come, bolt it on the
+inside, and we can get away as we came. If they come the other way,
+we can get through the door if our job is done, or hide behind these
+window curtains if it is not. Do you understand?"
+
+I nodded and stood by the door. My first feeling of fear had passed
+away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed
+when we were the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The
+high object of our mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish
+and chivalrous, the villainous character of our opponent, all added
+to the sporting interest of the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I
+rejoiced and exulted in our dangers. With a glow of admiration I
+watched Holmes unrolling his case of instruments and choosing his
+tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a surgeon who performs a
+delicate operation. I knew that the opening of safes was a particular
+hobby with him, and I understood the joy which it gave him to be
+confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held in
+its maw the reputations of many fair ladies. Turning up the cuffs of
+his dress-coat--he had placed his overcoat on a chair--Holmes laid
+out two drills, a jemmy, and several skeleton keys. I stood at the
+centre door with my eyes glancing at each of the others, ready for
+any emergency; though, indeed, my plans were somewhat vague as to
+what I should do if we were interrupted. For half an hour Holmes
+worked with concentrated energy, laying down one tool, picking up
+another, handling each with the strength and delicacy of the trained
+mechanic. Finally I heard a click, the broad green door swung open,
+and inside I had a glimpse of a number of paper packets, each tied,
+sealed, and inscribed. Holmes picked one out, but it was hard to read
+by the flickering fire, and he drew out his little dark lantern, for
+it was too dangerous, with Milverton in the next room, to switch on
+the electric light. Suddenly I saw him halt, listen intently, and
+then in an instant he had swung the door of the safe to, picked up
+his coat, stuffed his tools into the pockets, and darted behind the
+window curtain, motioning me to do the same.
+
+It was only when I had joined him there that I heard what had alarmed
+his quicker senses. There was a noise somewhere within the house. A
+door slammed in the distance. Then a confused, dull murmur broke
+itself into the measured thud of heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.
+They were in the passage outside the room. They paused at the door.
+The door opened. There was a sharp snick as the electric light was
+turned on. The door closed once more, and the pungent reek of a
+strong cigar was borne to our nostrils. Then the footsteps continued
+backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, within a few yards of
+us. Finally, there was a creak from a chair, and the footsteps
+ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard the rustle of
+papers.
+
+So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the
+division of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the
+pressure of Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing
+my observations. Right in front of us, and almost within our reach,
+was the broad, rounded back of Milverton. It was evident that we had
+entirely miscalculated his movements, that he had never been to his
+bedroom, but that he had been sitting up in some smoking or billiard
+room in the farther wing of the house, the windows of which we had
+not seen. His broad, grizzled head, with its shining patch of
+baldness, was in the immediate foreground of our vision. He was
+leaning far back in the red leather chair, his legs outstretched, a
+long black cigar projecting at an angle from his mouth. He wore a
+semi-military smoking jacket, claret-coloured, with a black velvet
+collar. In his hand he held a long legal document, which he was
+reading in an indolent fashion, blowing rings of tobacco smoke from
+his lips as he did so. There was no promise of a speedy departure in
+his composed bearing and his comfortable attitude.
+
+I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake,
+as if to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was
+easy in his mind. I was not sure whether he had seen what was only
+too obvious from my position, that the door of the safe was
+imperfectly closed, and that Milverton might at any moment observe
+it. In my own mind I had determined that if I were sure, from the
+rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his eye, I would at once
+spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion him, and leave
+the rest to Holmes. But Milverton never looked up. He was languidly
+interested by the papers in his hand, and page after page was turned
+as he followed the argument of the lawyer. At least, I thought, when
+he has finished the document and the cigar he will go to his room;
+but before he had reached the end of either there came a remarkable
+development which turned our thoughts into quite another channel.
+
+Several times I had observed that Milverton looked at his watch, and
+once he had risen and sat down again, with a gesture of impatience.
+The idea, however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an
+hour never occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from
+the veranda outside. Milverton dropped his papers and sat rigid in
+his chair. The sound was repeated, and then there came a gentle tap
+at the door. Milverton rose and opened it.
+
+"Well," said he, curtly, "you are nearly half an hour late."
+
+So this was the explanation of the unlocked door and of the nocturnal
+vigil of Milverton. There was the gentle rustle of a woman's dress. I
+had closed the slit between the curtains as Milverton's face had
+turned in our direction, but now I ventured very carefully to open it
+once more. He had resumed his seat, the cigar still projecting at an
+insolent angle from the corner of his mouth. In front of him, in the
+full glare of the electric light, there stood a tall, slim, dark
+woman, a veil over her face, a mantle drawn round her chin. Her
+breath came quick and fast, and every inch of the lithe figure was
+quivering with strong emotion.
+
+"Well," said Milverton, "you've made me lose a good night's rest, my
+dear. I hope you'll prove worth it. You couldn't come any other
+time--eh?"
+
+The woman shook her head.
+
+"Well, if you couldn't you couldn't. If the Countess is a hard
+mistress you have your chance to get level with her now. Bless the
+girl, what are you shivering about? That's right! Pull yourself
+together! Now, let us get down to business." He took a note from the
+drawer of his desk. "You say that you have five letters which
+compromise the Countess d'Albert. You want to sell them. I want to
+buy them. So far so good. It only remains to fix a price. I should
+want to inspect the letters, of course. If they are really good
+specimens--Great heavens, is it you?"
+
+The woman without a word had raised her veil and dropped the mantle
+from her chin. It was a dark, handsome, clear-cut face which
+confronted Milverton, a face with a curved nose, strong, dark
+eyebrows shading hard, glittering eyes, and a straight, thin-lipped
+mouth set in a dangerous smile.
+
+"It is I," she said; "the woman whose life you have ruined."
+
+Milverton laughed, but fear vibrated in his voice. "You were so very
+obstinate," said he. "Why did you drive me to such extremities? I
+assure you I wouldn't hurt a fly of my own accord, but every man has
+his business, and what was I to do? I put the price well within your
+means. You would not pay."
+
+"So you sent the letters to my husband, and he--the noblest gentleman
+that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace--he
+broke his gallant heart and died. You remember that last night when I
+came through that door I begged and prayed you for mercy, and you
+laughed in my face as you are trying to laugh now, only your coward
+heart cannot keep your lips from twitching? Yes, you never thought to
+see me here again, but it was that night which taught me how I could
+meet you face to face, and alone. Well, Charles Milverton, what have
+you to say?"
+
+"Don't imagine that you can bully me," said he, rising to his feet.
+"I have only to raise my voice, and I could call my servants and have
+you arrested. But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave
+the room at once as you came, and I will say no more."
+
+The woman stood with her hand buried in her bosom, and the same
+deadly smile on her thin lips.
+
+"You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no
+more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous
+thing. Take that, you hound, and that!--and that!--and that!"
+
+She had drawn a little, gleaming revolver, and emptied barrel after
+barrel into Milverton's body, the muzzle within two feet of his shirt
+front. He shrank away and then fell forward upon the table, coughing
+furiously and clawing among the papers. Then he staggered to his
+feet, received another shot, and rolled upon the floor. "You've done
+me," he cried, and lay still. The woman looked at him intently and
+ground her heel into his upturned face. She looked again, but there
+was no sound or movement. I heard a sharp rustle, the night air blew
+into the heated room, and the avenger was gone.
+
+No interference upon our part could have saved the man from his fate;
+but as the woman poured bullet after bullet into Milverton's
+shrinking body I was about to spring out, when I felt Holmes's cold,
+strong grasp upon my wrist. I understood the whole argument of that
+firm, restraining grip--that it was no affair of ours; that justice
+had overtaken a villain; that we had our own duties and our own
+objects which were not to be lost sight of. But hardly had the woman
+rushed from the room when Holmes, with swift, silent steps, was over
+at the other door. He turned the key in the lock. At the same instant
+we heard voices in the house and the sound of hurrying feet. The
+revolver shots had roused the household. With perfect coolness Holmes
+slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of
+letters, and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did
+it, until the safe was empty. Someone turned the handle and beat upon
+the outside of the door. Holmes looked swiftly round. The letter
+which had been the messenger of death for Milverton lay, all mottled
+with his blood, upon the table. Holmes tossed it in among the blazing
+papers. Then he drew the key from the outer door, passed through
+after me, and locked it on the outside. "This way, Watson," said he;
+"we can scale the garden wall in this direction."
+
+I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly.
+Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door
+was open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden
+was alive with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we
+emerged from the veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes
+seemed to know the ground perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly
+among a plantation of small trees, I close at his heels, and our
+foremost pursuer panting behind us. It was a six-foot wall which
+barred our path, but he sprang to the top and over. As I did the same
+I felt the hand of the man behind me grab at my ankle; but I kicked
+myself free and scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. I fell upon my
+face among some bushes; but Holmes had me on my feet in an instant,
+and together we dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead
+Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted
+and listened intently. All was absolute silence behind us. We had
+shaken off our pursuers and were safe.
+
+We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after
+the remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of
+Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our
+modest sitting-room.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good morning. May I ask if you
+are very busy just now?"
+
+"Not too busy to listen to you."
+
+"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you
+might care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only
+last night at Hampstead."
+
+"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"
+
+"A murder--a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you
+are upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you
+would step down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your
+advice. It is no ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr.
+Milverton for some time, and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a
+villain. He is known to have held papers which he used for
+blackmailing purposes. These papers have all been burned by the
+murderers. No article of value was taken, as it is probable that the
+criminals were men of good position, whose sole object was to prevent
+social exposure."
+
+"Criminals!" said Holmes. "Plural!"
+
+"Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible,
+captured red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their
+description; it's ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow was
+a bit too active, but the second was caught by the under-gardener and
+only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly-built
+man--square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his eyes."
+
+"That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "Why, it might be a
+description of Watson!"
+
+"It's true," said the inspector, with much amusement. "It might be a
+description of Watson."
+
+"Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The
+fact is that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one
+of the most dangerous men in London, and that I think there are
+certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to
+some extent, justify private revenge. No, it's no use arguing. I have
+made up my mind. My sympathies are with the criminals rather than
+with the victim, and I will not handle this case."
+
+Holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which we had
+witnessed, but I observed all the morning that he was in his most
+thoughtful mood, and he gave me the impression, from his vacant eyes
+and his abstracted manner, of a man who is striving to recall
+something to his memory. We were in the middle of our lunch when he
+suddenly sprang to his feet. "By Jove, Watson; I've got it!" he
+cried. "Take your hat! Come with me!" He hurried at his top speed
+down Baker Street and along Oxford Street, until we had almost
+reached Regent Circus. Here on the left hand there stands a shop
+window filled with photographs of the celebrities and beauties of the
+day. Holmes's eyes fixed themselves upon one of them, and following
+his gaze I saw the picture of a regal and stately lady in Court
+dress, with a high diamond tiara upon her noble head. I looked at
+that delicately-curved nose, at the marked eyebrows, at the straight
+mouth, and the strong little chin beneath it. Then I caught my breath
+as I read the time-honoured title of the great nobleman and statesman
+whose wife she had been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his
+finger to his lips as we turned away from the window.
+
+[Text taken from here](https://sherlock-holm.es/stories/html/chas.html)

_posts/2018-08-12-the-adventure-of-the-priory-school.md

@@ -0,0 +1,705 @@
+---
+title: The Adventure of the Priory School
+author: Arthur Conan Doyle
+category: literature
+layout: post
+---
+
+
+We have had some dramatic entrances and exits upon our small stage at Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling than the first appearance of Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc. His card, which seemed too small to carry the weight of his academic distinctions, preceded him by a few seconds, and then he entered himself—so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action when the door had closed behind him was to stagger against the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.
+
+We had sprung to our feet, and for a few moments we stared in silent amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage, which told of some sudden and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. Then Holmes hurried with a cushion for his head and I with brandy for his lips. The heavy white face was seamed with lines of trouble, the hanging pouches under the closed eyes were leaden in colour, the loose mouth drooped dolorously at the corners, the rolling chins were unshaven. Collar and shirt bore the grime of a long journey, and the hair bristled unkempt from the well-shaped head. It was a sorely-stricken man who lay before us.
+
+“What is it, Watson?” asked Holmes.
+
+“Absolute exhaustion—possibly mere hunger and fatigue,” said I, with my finger on the thready pulse, where the stream of life trickled thin and small.
+
+“Return ticket from Mackleton, in the North of England,” said Holmes, drawing it from the watch-pocket. “It is not twelve o'clock yet. He has certainly been an early starter.”
+
+The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair of vacant, grey eyes looked up at us. An instant later the man had scrambled on to his feet, his face crimson with shame.
+
+“Forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes; I have been a little overwrought. Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit I have no doubt that I should be better. I came personally, Mr. Holmes, in order to ensure that you would return with me. I feared that no telegram would convince you of the absolute urgency of the case.”
+
+“When you are quite restored—
+
+“I am quite well again. I cannot imagine how I came to be so weak. I wish you, Mr. Holmes, to come to Mackleton with me by the next train.”
+
+My friend shook his head.
+
+“My colleague, Dr. Watson, could tell you that we are very busy at present. I am retained in this case of the Ferrers Documents, and the Abergavenny murder is coming up for trial. Only a very important issue could call me from London at present.”
+
+“Important!” Our visitor threw up his hands. “Have you heard nothing of the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holdernesse?”
+
+“What! the late Cabinet Minister?”
+
+“Exactly. We had tried to keep it out of the papers, but there was some rumour in the Globe last night. I thought it might have reached your ears.”
+
+Holmes shot out his long, thin arm and picked out Volume “H” in his encyclopaedia of reference.
+
+“‘Holdernesse, 6th Duke, K.G., P.C.’—half the alphabet! ‘Baron Beverley, Earl of Carston’—dear me, what a list! ‘Lord Lieutenant of Hallamshire since 1900. Married Edith, daughter of Sir Charles Appledore, 1888. Heir and only child, Lord Saltire. Owns about two hundred and fifty thousand acres. Minerals in Lancashire and Wales. Address: Carlton House Terrace; Holdernesse Hall, Hallamshire; Carston Castle, Bangor, Wales. Lord of the Admiralty, 1872; Chief Secretary of State for—’ Well, well, this man is certainly one of the greatest subjects of the Crown!”
+
+“The greatest and perhaps the wealthiest. I am aware, Mr. Holmes, that you take a very high line in professional matters, and that you are prepared to work for the work's sake. I may tell you, however, that his Grace has already intimated that a cheque for five thousand pounds will be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is, and another thousand to him who can name the man, or men, who have taken him.”
+
+“It is a princely offer,” said Holmes. “Watson, I think that we shall accompany Dr. Huxtable back to the North of England. And now, Dr. Huxtable, when you have consumed that milk you will kindly tell me what has happened, when it happened, how it happened, and, finally, what Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, of the Priory School, near Mackleton, has to do with the matter, and why he comes three days after an event—the state of your chin gives the date—to ask for my humble services.”
+
+Our visitor had consumed his milk and biscuits. The light had come back to his eyes and the colour to his cheeks as he set himself with great vigour and lucidity to explain the situation.
+
+“I must inform you, gentlemen, that the Priory is a preparatory school, of which I am the founder and principal. ‘Huxtable's Sidelights on Horace’ may possibly recall my name to your memories. The Priory is, without exception, the best and most select preparatory school in England. Lord Leverstoke, the Earl of Blackwater, Sir Cathcart Soames—they all have entrusted their sons to me. But I felt that my school had reached its zenith when, three weeks ago, the Duke of Holdernesse sent Mr. James Wilder, his secretary, with the intimation that young Lord Saltire, ten years old, his only son and heir, was about to be committed to my charge. Little did I think that this would be the prelude to the most crushing misfortune of my life.
+
+“On May 1st the boy arrived, that being the beginning of the summer term. He was a charming youth, and he soon fell into our ways. I may tell you—I trust that I am not indiscreet, but half-confidences are absurd in such a case—that he was not entirely happy at home. It is an open secret that the Duke's married life had not been a peaceful one, and the matter had ended in a separation by mutual consent, the Duchess taking up her residence in the South of France. This had occurred very shortly before, and the boy's sympathies are known to have been strongly with his mother. He moped after her departure from Holdernesse Hall, and it was for this reason that the Duke desired to send him to my establishment. In a fortnight the boy was quite at home with us, and was apparently absolutely happy.
+
+“He was last seen on the night of May 13th—that is, the night of last Monday. His room was on the second floor, and was approached through another larger room in which two boys were sleeping. These boys saw and heard nothing, so that it is certain that young Saltire did not pass out that way. His window was open, and there is a stout ivy plant leading to the ground. We could trace no footmarks below, but it is sure that this is the only possible exit.
+
+“His absence was discovered at seven o'clock on Tuesday morning. His bed had been slept in. He had dressed himself fully before going off in his usual school suit of black Eton jacket and dark grey trousers. There were no signs that anyone had entered the room, and it is quite certain that anything in the nature of cries, or a struggle, would have been heard, since Caunter, the elder boy in the inner room, is a very light sleeper.
+
+“When Lord Saltire's disappearance was discovered I at once called a roll of the whole establishment, boys, masters, and servants. It was then that we ascertained that Lord Saltire had not been alone in his flight. Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on the second floor, at the farther end of the building, facing the same way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had also been slept in; but he had apparently gone away partly dressed, since his shirt and socks were lying on the floor. He had undoubtedly let himself down by the ivy, for we could see the marks of his feet where he had landed on the lawn. His bicycle was kept in a small shed beside this lawn, and it also was gone.
+
+“He had been with me for two years, and came with the best references; but he was a silent, morose man, not very popular either with masters or boys. No trace could be found of the fugitives, and now on Thursday morning we are as ignorant as we were on Tuesday. Inquiry was, of course, made at once at Holdernesse Hall. It is only a few miles away, and we imagined that in some sudden attack of home-sickness he had gone back to his father; but nothing had been heard of him. The Duke is greatly agitated—and as to me, you have seen yourselves the state of nervous prostration to which the suspense and the responsibility have reduced me. Mr. Holmes, if ever you put forward your full powers, I implore you to do so now, for never in your life could you have a case which is more worthy of them.”
+
+Sherlock Holmes had listened with the utmost intentness to the statement of the unhappy schoolmaster. His drawn brows and the deep furrow between them showed that he needed no exhortation to concentrate all his attention upon a problem which, apart from the tremendous interests involved, must appeal so directly to his love of the complex and the unusual. He now drew out his note-book and jotted down one or two memoranda.
+
+“You have been very remiss in not coming to me sooner,” said he, severely. “You start me on my investigation with a very serious handicap. It is inconceivable, for example, that this ivy and this lawn would have yielded nothing to an expert observer.”
+
+“I am not to blame, Mr. Holmes. His Grace was extremely desirous to avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family unhappiness being dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of the kind.”
+
+“But there has been some official investigation?”
+
+“Yes, sir, and it has proved most disappointing. An apparent clue was at once obtained, since a boy and a young man were reported to have been seen leaving a neighbouring station by an early train. Only last night we had news that the couple had been hunted down in Liverpool, and they prove to have no connection whatever with the matter in hand. Then it was that in my despair and disappointment, after a sleepless night, I came straight to you by the early train.”
+
+“I suppose the local investigation was relaxed while this false clue was being followed up?”
+
+“It was entirely dropped.”
+
+“So that three days have been wasted. The affair has been most deplorably handled.”
+
+“I feel it, and admit it.”
+
+“And yet the problem should be capable of ultimate solution. I shall be very happy to look into it. Have you been able to trace any connection between the missing boy and this German master?”
+
+“None at all.”
+
+“Was he in the master's class?”
+
+“No; he never exchanged a word with him so far as I know.”
+
+“That is certainly very singular. Had the boy a bicycle?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Was any other bicycle missing?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Is that certain?”
+
+“Quite.”
+
+“Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German rode off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in his arms?”
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+“Then what is the theory in your mind?”
+
+“The bicycle may have been a blind. It may have been hidden somewhere and the pair gone off on foot.”
+
+“Quite so; but it seems rather an absurd blind, does it not? Were there other bicycles in this shed?”
+
+“Several.”
+
+“Would he not have hidden a couple he desired to give the idea that they had gone off upon them?”
+
+“I suppose he would.”
+
+“Of course he would. The blind theory won't do. But the incident is an admirable starting-point for an investigation. After all, a bicycle is not an easy thing to conceal or to destroy. One other question. Did anyone call to see the boy on the day before he disappeared?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Did he get any letters?”
+
+“Yes; one letter.”
+
+“From whom?”
+
+“From his father.”
+
+“Do you open the boys' letters?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“How do you know it was from the father?”
+
+“The coat of arms was on the envelope, and it was addressed in the Duke's peculiar stiff hand. Besides, the Duke remembers having written.”
+
+“When had he a letter before that?”
+
+“Not for several days.”
+
+“Had he ever one from France?”
+
+“No; never.”
+
+“You see the point of my questions, of course. Either the boy was carried off by force or he went of his own free will. In the latter case you would expect that some prompting from outside would be needed to make so young a lad do such a thing. If he has had no visitors, that prompting must have come in letters. Hence I try to find out who were his correspondents.”
+
+“I fear I cannot help you much. His only correspondent, so far as I know, was his own father.”
+
+“Who wrote to him on the very day of his disappearance. Were the relations between father and son very friendly?”
+
+“His Grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy in his own way.”
+
+“But the sympathies of the latter were with the mother?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Did he say so?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“The Duke, then?”
+
+“Good heavens, no!”
+
+“Then how could you know?”
+
+“I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his Grace's secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord Saltire's feelings.”
+
+“I see. By the way, that last letter of the Duke's—was it found in the boy's room after he was gone?”
+
+“No; he had taken it with him. I think, Mr. Holmes, it is time that we were leaving for Euston.”
+
+“I will order a four-wheeler. In a quarter of an hour we shall be at your service. If you are telegraphing home, Mr. Huxtable, it would be well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red herring led your pack. In the meantime I will do a little quiet work at your own doors, and perhaps the scent is not so cold but that two old hounds like Watson and myself may get a sniff of it.”
+
+That evening found us in the cold, bracing atmosphere of the Peak country, in which Dr. Huxtable's famous school is situated. It was already dark when we reached it. A card was lying on the hall table, and the butler whispered something to his master, who turned to us with agitation in every heavy feature.
+
+“The Duke is here,” said he. “The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the study. Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you.”
+
+I was, of course, familiar with the pictures of the famous statesman, but the man himself was very different from his representation. He was a tall and stately person, scrupulously dressed, with a drawn, thin face, and a nose which was grotesquely curved and long. His complexion was of a dead pallor, which was more startling by contrast with a long, dwindling beard of vivid red, which flowed down over his white waistcoat, with his watch-chain gleaming through its fringe. Such was the stately presence who looked stonily at us from the centre of Dr. Huxtable's hearthrug. Beside him stood a very young man, whom I understood to be Wilder, the private secretary. He was small, nervous, alert, with intelligent, light-blue eyes and mobile features. It was he who at once, in an incisive and positive tone, opened the conversation.
+
+“I called this morning, Dr. Huxtable, too late to prevent you from starting for London. I learned that your object was to invite Mr. Sherlock Holmes to undertake the conduct of this case. His Grace is surprised, Dr. Huxtable, that you should have taken such a step without consulting him.”
+
+“When I learned that the police had failed—”
+
+“His Grace is by no means convinced that the police have failed.”
+
+“But surely, Mr. Wilder—”
+
+“You are well aware, Dr. Huxtable, that his Grace is particularly anxious to avoid all public scandal. He prefers to take as few people as possible into his confidence.”
+
+“The matter can be easily remedied,” said the brow-beaten doctor; “Mr. Sherlock Holmes can return to London by the morning train.”
+
+“Hardly that, Doctor, hardly that,” said Holmes, in his blandest voice. “This northern air is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose to spend a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I may. Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn is, of course, for you to decide.”
+
+I could see that the unfortunate doctor was in the last stage of indecision, from which he was rescued by the deep, sonorous voice of the red-bearded Duke, which boomed out like a dinner-gong.
+
+“I agree with Mr. Wilder, Dr. Huxtable, that you would have done wisely to consult me. But since Mr. Holmes has already been taken into your confidence, it would indeed be absurd that we should not avail ourselves of his services. Far from going to the inn, Mr. Holmes, I should be pleased if you would come and stay with me at Holdernesse Hall.”
+
+“I thank your Grace. For the purposes of my investigation I think that it would be wiser for me to remain at the scene of the mystery.”
+
+“Just as you like, Mr. Holmes. Any information which Mr. Wilder or I can give you is, of course, at your disposal.”
+
+“It will probably be necessary for me to see you at the Hall,” said Holmes. “I would only ask you now, sir, whether you have formed any explanation in your own mind as to the mysterious disappearance of your son?”
+
+“No, sir, I have not.”
+
+“Excuse me if I allude to that which is painful to you, but I have no alternative. Do you think that the Duchess had anything to do with the matter?”
+
+The great Minister showed perceptible hesitation.
+
+“I do not think so,” he said, at last.
+
+“The other most obvious explanation is that the child has been kidnapped for the purpose of levying ransom. You have not had any demand of the sort?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“One more question, your Grace. I understand that you wrote to your son upon the day when this incident occurred.”
+
+“No; I wrote upon the day before.”
+
+“Exactly. But he received it on that day?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Was there anything in your letter which might have unbalanced him or induced him to take such a step?”
+
+“No, sir, certainly not.”
+
+“Did you post that letter yourself?”
+
+The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in with some heat.
+
+“His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself,” said he. “This letter was laid with others upon the study table, and I myself put them in the post-bag.”
+
+“You are sure this one was among them?”
+
+“Yes; I observed it.”
+
+“How many letters did your Grace write that day?”
+
+“Twenty or thirty. I have a large correspondence. But surely this is somewhat irrelevant?”
+
+“Not entirely,” said Holmes.
+
+“For my own part,” the Duke continued, “I have advised the police to turn their attention to the South of France. I have already said that I do not believe that the Duchess would encourage so monstrous an action, but the lad had the most wrong-headed opinions, and it is possible that he may have fled to her, aided and abetted by this German. I think, Dr. Huxtable, that we will now return to the Hall.”
+
+I could see that there were other questions which Holmes would have wished to put; but the nobleman's abrupt manner showed that the interview was at an end. It was evident that to his intensely aristocratic nature this discussion of his intimate family affairs with a stranger was most abhorrent, and that he feared lest every fresh question would throw a fiercer light into the discreetly shadowed corners of his ducal history.
+
+When the nobleman and his secretary had left, my friend flung himself at once with characteristic eagerness into the investigation.
+
+The boy's chamber was carefully examined, and yielded nothing save the absolute conviction that it was only through the window that he could have escaped. The German master's room and effects gave no further clue. In his case a trailer of ivy had given way under his weight, and we saw by the light of a lantern the mark on the lawn where his heels had come down. That one dint in the short green grass was the only material witness left of this inexplicable nocturnal flight.
+
+Sherlock Holmes left the house alone, and only returned after eleven. He had obtained a large ordnance map of the neighbourhood, and this he brought into my room, where he laid it out on the bed, and, having balanced the lamp in the middle of it, he began to smoke over it, and occasionally to point out objects of interest with the reeking amber of his pipe.
+
+“This case grows upon me, Watson,” said he. “There are decidedly some points of interest in connection with it. In this early stage I want you to realize those geographical features which may have a good deal to do with our investigation.
+
+“Look at this map. This dark square is the Priory School. I'll put a pin in it. Now, this line is the main road. You see that it runs east and west past the school, and you see also that there is no side road for a mile either way. If these two folk passed away by road it was this road.”
+
+![](https://sherlock-holm.es/stories/html/pictures/prio-1.png)
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“By a singular and happy chance we are able to some extent to check what passed along this road during the night in question. At this point, where my pipe is now resting, a country constable was on duty from twelve to six. It is, as you perceive, the first cross road on the east side. This man declares that he was not absent from his post for an instant, and he is positive that neither boy nor man could have gone that way unseen. I have spoken with this policeman to-night, and he appears to me to be a perfectly reliable person. That blocks this end. We have now to deal with the other. There is an inn here, the Red Bull, the landlady of which was ill. She had sent to Mackleton for a doctor, but he did not arrive until morning, being absent at another case. The people at the inn were alert all night, awaiting his coming, and one or other of them seems to have continually had an eye upon the road. They declare that no one passed. If their evidence is good, then we are fortunate enough to be able to block the west, and also to be able to say that the fugitives did not use the road at all.”
+
+“But the bicycle?” I objected.
+
+“Quite so. We will come to the bicycle presently. To continue our reasoning: if these people did not go by the road, they must have traversed the country to the north of the house or to the south of the house. That is certain. Let us weigh the one against the other. On the south of the house is, as you perceive, a large district of arable land, cut up into small fields, with stone walls between them. There, I admit that a bicycle is impossible. We can dismiss the idea. We turn to the country on the north. Here there lies a grove of trees, marked as the ‘Ragged Shaw,’ and on the farther side stretches a great rolling moor, Lower Gill Moor, extending for ten miles and sloping gradually upwards. Here, at one side of this wilderness, is Holdernesse Hall, ten miles by road, but only six across the moor. It is a peculiarly desolate plain. A few moor farmers have small holdings, where they rear sheep and cattle. Except these, the plover and the curlew are the only inhabitants until you come to the Chesterfield high road. There is a church there, you see, a few cottages, and an inn. Beyond that the hills become precipitous. Surely it is here to the north that our quest must lie.”
+
+“But the bicycle?” I persisted.
+
+“Well, well!” said Holmes, impatiently. “A good cyclist does not need a high road. The moor is intersected with paths and the moon was at the full. Halloa! what is this?”
+
+There was an agitated knock at the door, and an instant afterwards Dr. Huxtable was in the room. In his hand he held a blue cricket-cap, with a white chevron on the peak.
+
+“At last we have a clue!” he cried. “Thank Heaven! at last we are on the dear boy's track! It is his cap.”
+
+“Where was it found?”
+
+“In the van of the gipsies who camped on the moor. They left on Tuesday. To-day the police traced them down and examined their caravan. This was found.”
+
+“How do they account for it?”
+
+“They shuffled and lied—said that they found it on the moor on Tuesday morning. They know where he is, the rascals! Thank goodness, they are all safe under lock and key. Either the fear of the law or the Duke's purse will certainly get out of them all that they know.”
+
+“So far, so good,” said Holmes, when the doctor had at last left the room. “It at least bears out the theory that it is on the side of the Lower Gill Moor that we must hope for results. The police have really done nothing locally, save the arrest of these gipsies. Look here, Watson! There is a watercourse across the moor. You see it marked here in the map. In some parts it widens into a morass. This is particularly so in the region between Holdernesse Hall and the school. It is vain to look elsewhere for tracks in this dry weather; but at that point there is certainly a chance of some record being left. I will call you early to-morrow morning, and you and I will try if we can throw some little light upon the mystery.”
+
+The day was just breaking when I woke to find the long, thin form of Holmes by my bedside. He was fully dressed, and had apparently already been out.
+
+“I have done the lawn and the bicycle shed,” said he. “I have also had a ramble through the Ragged Shaw. Now, Watson, there is cocoa ready in the next room. I must beg you to hurry, for we have a great day before us.”
+
+His eyes shone, and his cheek was flushed with the exhilaration of the master workman who sees his work lie ready before him. A very different Holmes, this active, alert man, from the introspective and pallid dreamer of Baker Street. I felt, as I looked upon that supple figure, alive with nervous energy, that it was indeed a strenuous day that awaited us.
+
+And yet it opened in the blackest disappointment. With high hopes we struck across the peaty, russet moor, intersected with a thousand sheep paths, until we came to the broad, light-green belt which marked the morass between us and Holdernesse. Certainly, if the lad had gone homewards, he must have passed this, and he could not pass it without leaving his traces. But no sign of him or the German could be seen. With a darkening face my friend strode along the margin, eagerly observant of every muddy stain upon the mossy surface. Sheep-marks there were in profusion, and at one place, some miles down, cows had left their tracks. Nothing more.
+
+“Check number one,” said Holmes, looking gloomily over the rolling expanse of the moor. “There is another morass down yonder and a narrow neck between. Halloa! halloa! halloa! what have we here?”
+
+We had come on a small black ribbon of pathway. In the middle of it, clearly marked on the sodden soil, was the track of a bicycle.
+
+“Hurrah!” I cried. “We have it.”
+
+But Holmes was shaking his head, and his face was puzzled and expectant rather than joyous.
+
+“A bicycle, certainly, but not the bicycle,” said he. “I am familiar with forty-two different impressions left by tyres. This, as you perceive, is a Dunlop, with a patch upon the outer cover. Heidegger's tyres were Palmer's, leaving longitudinal stripes. Aveling, the mathematical master, was sure upon the point. Therefore, it is not Heidegger's track.”
+
+“The boy's, then?”
+
+“Possibly, if we could prove a bicycle to have been in his possession. But this we have utterly failed to do. This track, as you perceive, was made by a rider who was going from the direction of the school.”
+
+“Or towards it?”
+
+“No, no, my dear Watson. The more deeply sunk impression is, of course, the hind wheel, upon which the weight rests. You perceive several places where it has passed across and obliterated the more shallow mark of the front one. It was undoubtedly heading away from the school. It may or may not be connected with our inquiry, but we will follow it backwards before we go any farther.”
+
+We did so, and at the end of a few hundred yards lost the tracks as we emerged from the boggy portion of the moor. Following the path backwards, we picked out another spot, where a spring trickled across it. Here, once again, was the mark of the bicycle, though nearly obliterated by the hoofs of cows. After that there was no sign, but the path ran right on into Ragged Shaw, the wood which backed on to the school. From this wood the cycle must have emerged. Holmes sat down on a boulder and rested his chin in his hands. I had smoked two cigarettes before he moved.
+
+“Well, well,” said he, at last. “It is, of course, possible that a cunning man might change the tyre of his bicycle in order to leave unfamiliar tracks. A criminal who was capable of such a thought is a man whom I should be proud to do business with. We will leave this question undecided and hark back to our morass again, for we have left a good deal unexplored.”
+
+We continued our systematic survey of the edge of the sodden portion of the moor, and soon our perseverance was gloriously rewarded. Right across the lower part of the bog lay a miry path. Holmes gave a cry of delight as he approached it. An impression like a fine bundle of telegraph wires ran down the centre of it. It was the Palmer tyre.
+
+“Here is Herr Heidegger, sure enough!” cried Holmes, exultantly. “My reasoning seems to have been pretty sound, Watson.”
+
+“I congratulate you.”
+
+“But we have a long way still to go. Kindly walk clear of the path. Now let us follow the trail. I fear that it will not lead very far.”
+
+We found, however, as we advanced that this portion of the moor is intersected with soft patches, and, though we frequently lost sight of the track, we always succeeded in picking it up once more.
+
+“Do you observe,” said Holmes, “that the rider is now undoubtedly forcing the pace? There can be no doubt of it. Look at this impression, where you get both tyres clear. The one is as deep as the other. That can only mean that the rider is throwing his weight on to the handle-bar, as a man does when he is sprinting. By Jove! he has had a fall.”
+
+There was a broad, irregular smudge covering some yards of the track. Then there were a few footmarks, and the tyre reappeared once more.
+
+“A side-slip,” I suggested.
+
+Holmes held up a crumpled branch of flowering gorse. To my horror I perceived that the yellow blossoms were all dabbled with crimson. On the path, too, and among the heather were dark stains of clotted blood.
+
+“Bad!” said Holmes. “Bad! Stand clear, Watson! Not an unnecessary footstep! What do I read here? He fell wounded, he stood up, he remounted, he proceeded. But there is no other track. Cattle on this side path. He was surely not gored by a bull? Impossible! But I see no traces of anyone else. We must push on, Watson. Surely with stains as well as the track to guide us he cannot escape us now.”
+
+Our search was not a very long one. The tracks of the tyre began to curve fantastically upon the wet and shining path. Suddenly, as I looked ahead, the gleam of metal caught my eye from amid the thick gorse bushes. Out of them we dragged a bicycle, Palmer-tyred, one pedal bent, and the whole front of it horribly smeared and slobbered with blood. On the other side of the bushes a shoe was projecting. We ran round, and there lay the unfortunate rider. He was a tall man, full bearded, with spectacles, one glass of which had been knocked out. The cause of his death was a frightful blow upon the head, which had crushed in part of his skull. That he could have gone on after receiving such an injury said much for the vitality and courage of the man. He wore shoes, but no socks, and his open coat disclosed a night-shirt beneath it. It was undoubtedly the German master.
+
+Holmes turned the body over reverently, and examined it with great attention. He then sat in deep thought for a time, and I could see by his ruffled brow that this grim discovery had not, in his opinion, advanced us much in our inquiry.
+
+“It is a little difficult to know what to do, Watson,” said he, at last. “My own inclinations are to push this inquiry on, for we have already lost so much time that we cannot afford to waste another hour. On the other hand, we are bound to inform the police of the discovery, and to see that this poor fellow's body is looked after.”
+
+“I could take a note back.”
+
+“But I need your company and assistance. Wait a bit! There is a fellow cutting peat up yonder. Bring him over here, and he will guide the police.”
+
+I brought the peasant across, and Holmes dispatched the frightened man with a note to Dr. Huxtable.
+
+“Now, Watson,” said he, “we have picked up two clues this morning. One is the bicycle with the Palmer tyre, and we see what that has led to. The other is the bicycle with the patched Dunlop. Before we start to investigate that, let us try to realize what we do know so as to make the most of it, and to separate the essential from the accidental.”
+
+“First of all I wish to impress upon you that the boy certainly left of his own free will. He got down from his window and he went off, either alone or with someone. That is sure.”
+
+I assented.
+
+“Well, now, let us turn to this unfortunate German master. The boy was fully dressed when he fled. Therefore, he foresaw what he would do. But the German went without his socks. He certainly acted on very short notice.”
+
+“Undoubtedly.”
+
+“Why did he go? Because, from his bedroom window, he saw the flight of the boy. Because he wished to overtake him and bring him back. He seized his bicycle, pursued the lad, and in pursuing him met his death.”
+
+“So it would seem.”
+
+“Now I come to the critical part of my argument. The natural action of a man in pursuing a little boy would be to run after him. He would know that he could overtake him. But the German does not do so. He turns to his bicycle. I am told that he was an excellent cyclist. He would not do this if he did not see that the boy had some swift means of escape.”
+
+“The other bicycle.”
+
+“Let us continue our reconstruction. He meets his death five miles from the school—not by a bullet, mark you, which even a lad might conceivably discharge, but by a savage blow dealt by a vigorous arm. The lad, then, had a companion in his flight. And the flight was a swift one, since it took five miles before an expert cyclist could overtake them. Yet we survey the ground round the scene of the tragedy. What do we find? A few cattle tracks, nothing more. I took a wide sweep round, and there is no path within fifty yards. Another cyclist could have had nothing to do with the actual murder. Nor were there any human footmarks.”
+
+“Holmes,” I cried, “this is impossible.”
+
+“Admirable!” he said. “A most illuminating remark. It is impossible as I state it, and therefore I must in some respect have stated it wrong. Yet you saw for yourself. Can you suggest any fallacy?”
+
+“He could not have fractured his skull in a fall?”
+
+“In a morass, Watson?”
+
+“I am at my wit's end.”
+
+“Tut, tut; we have solved some worse problems. At least we have plenty of material, if we can only use it. Come, then, and, having exhausted the Palmer, let us see what the Dunlop with the patched cover has to offer us.”
+
+We picked up the track and followed it onwards for some distance; but soon the moor rose into a long, heather-tufted curve, and we left the watercourse behind us. No further help from tracks could be hoped for. At the spot where we saw the last of the Dunlop tyre it might equally have led to Holdernesse Hall, the stately towers of which rose some miles to our left, or to a low, grey village which lay in front of us, and marked the position of the Chesterfield high road.
+
+As we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the sign of a game-cock above the door, Holmes gave a sudden groan and clutched me by the shoulder to save himself from falling. He had had one of those violent strains of the ankle which leave a man helpless. With difficulty he limped up to the door, where a squat, dark, elderly man was smoking a black clay pipe.
+
+“How are you, Mr. Reuben Hayes?” said Holmes.
+
+“Who are you, and how do you get my name so pat?” the countryman answered, with a suspicious flash of a pair of cunning eyes.
+
+“Well, it's printed on the board above your head. It's easy to see a man who is master of his own house. I suppose you haven't such a thing as a carriage in your stables?”
+
+“No; I have not.”
+
+“I can hardly put my foot to the ground.”
+
+“Don't put it to the ground.”
+
+“But I can't walk.”
+
+“Well, then, hop.”
+
+Mr. Reuben Hayes's manner was far from gracious, but Holmes took it with admirable good-humour.
+
+“Look here, my man,” said he. “This is really rather an awkward fix for me. I don't mind how I get on.”
+
+“Neither do I,” said the morose landlord.
+
+“The matter is very important. I would offer you a sovereign for the use of a bicycle.”
+
+The landlord pricked up his ears.
+
+“Where do you want to go?”
+
+“To Holdernesse Hall.”
+
+“Pals of the Dook, I suppose?” said the landlord, surveying our mud-stained garments with ironical eyes.
+
+Holmes laughed good-naturedly.
+
+“He'll be glad to see us, anyhow.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because we bring him news of his lost son.”
+
+The landlord gave a very visible start.
+
+“What, you're on his track?”
+
+“He has been heard of in Liverpool. They expect to get him every hour.”
+
+Again a swift change passed over the heavy, unshaven face. His manner was suddenly genial.
+
+“I've less reason to wish the Dook well than most men,” said he, “for I was his head coachman once, and cruel bad he treated me. It was him that sacked me without a character on the word of a lying corn-chandler. But I'm glad to hear that the young lord was heard of in Liverpool, and I'll help you to take the news to the Hall.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Holmes. “We'll have some food first. Then you can bring round the bicycle.”
+
+“I haven't got a bicycle.”
+
+Holmes held up a sovereign.
+
+“I tell you, man, that I haven't got one. I'll let you have two horses as far as the Hall.”
+
+“Well, well,” said Holmes, “we'll talk about it when we've had something to eat.”
+
+When we were left alone in the stone-flagged kitchen it was astonishing how rapidly that sprained ankle recovered. It was nearly nightfall, and we had eaten nothing since early morning, so that we spent some time over our meal. Holmes was lost in thought, and once or twice he walked over to the window and stared earnestly out. It opened on to a squalid courtyard. In the far corner was a smithy, where a grimy lad was at work. On the other side were the stables. Holmes had sat down again after one of these excursions, when he suddenly sprang out of his chair with a loud exclamation.
+
+“By Heaven, Watson, I believe that I've got it!” he cried. “Yes, yes, it must be so. Watson, do you remember seeing any cow-tracks to-day?”
+
+“Yes, several.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“Well, everywhere. They were at the morass, and again on the path, and again near where poor Heidegger met his death.”
+
+“Exactly. Well, now, Watson, how many cows did you see on the moor?”
+
+“I don't remember seeing any.”
+
+“Strange, Watson, that we should see tracks all along our line, but never a cow on the whole moor; very strange, Watson, eh?”
+
+“Yes, it is strange.”
+
+“Now, Watson, make an effort; throw your mind back! Can you see those tracks upon the path?”
+
+“Yes, I can.”
+
+“Can you recall that the tracks were sometimes like that, Watson”—he arranged a number of bread-crumbs in this fashion—: : : : :—“and sometimes like this”—: ˙ : ˙ : ˙ : ˙—“and occasionally like this”—. ˙ . ˙ . ˙ . “Can you remember that?”
+
+“No, I cannot.”
+
+“But I can. I could swear to it. However, we will go back at our leisure and verify it. What a blind beetle I have been not to draw my conclusion!”
+
+“And what is your conclusion?”
+
+“Only that it is a remarkable cow which walks, canters, and gallops. By George, Watson, it was no brain of a country publican that thought out such a blind as that! The coast seems to be clear, save for that lad in the smithy. Let us slip out and see what we can see.”
+
+There were two rough-haired, unkempt horses in the tumble-down stable. Holmes raised the hind leg of one of them and laughed aloud.
+
+“Old shoes, but newly shod—old shoes, but new nails. This case deserves to be a classic. Let us go across to the smithy.”
+
+The lad continued his work without regarding us. I saw Holmes's eye darting to right and left among the litter of iron and wood which was scattered about the floor. Suddenly, however, we heard a step behind us, and there was the landlord, his heavy eyebrows drawn over his savage eyes, his swarthy features convulsed with passion. He held a short, metal-headed stick in his hand, and he advanced in so menacing a fashion that I was right glad to feel the revolver in my pocket.
+
+“You infernal spies!” the man cried. “What are you doing there?”
+
+“Why, Mr. Reuben Hayes,” said Holmes, coolly, “one might think that you were afraid of our finding something out.”
+
+The man mastered himself with a violent effort, and his grim mouth loosened into a false laugh, which was more menacing than his frown.
+
+“You're welcome to all you can find out in my smithy,” said he. “But look here, mister, I don't care for folk poking about my place without my leave, so the sooner you pay your score and get out of this the better I shall be pleased.”
+
+“All right, Mr. Hayes—no harm meant,” said Holmes. “We have been having a look at your horses, but I think I'll walk after all. It's not far, I believe.”
+
+“Not more than two miles to the Hall gates. That's the road to the left.” He watched us with sullen eyes until we had left his premises.
+
+We did not go very far along the road, for Holmes stopped the instant that the curve hid us from the landlord's view.
+
+“We were warm, as the children say, at that inn,” said he. “I seem to grow colder every step that I take away from it. No, no; I can't possibly leave it.”
+
+“I am convinced,” said I, “that this Reuben Hayes knows all about it. A more self-evident villain I never saw.”
+
+“Oh! he impressed you in that way, did he? There are the horses, there is the smithy. Yes, it is an interesting place, this Fighting Cock. I think we shall have another look at it in an unobtrusive way.”
+
+A long, sloping hillside, dotted with grey limestone boulders, stretched behind us. We had turned off the road, and were making our way up the hill, when, looking in the direction of Holdernesse Hall, I saw a cyclist coming swiftly along.
+
+“Get down, Watson!” cried Holmes, with a heavy hand upon my shoulder. We had hardly sunk from view when the man flew past us on the road. Amid a rolling cloud of dust I caught a glimpse of a pale, agitated face—a face with horror in every lineament, the mouth open, the eyes staring wildly in front. It was like some strange caricature of the dapper James Wilder whom we had seen the night before.
+
+“The Duke's secretary!” cried Holmes. “Come, Watson, let us see what he does.”
+
+We scrambled from rock to rock until in a few moments we had made our way to a point from which we could see the front door of the inn. Wilder's bicycle was leaning against the wall beside it. No one was moving about the house, nor could we catch a glimpse of any faces at the windows. Slowly the twilight crept down as the sun sank behind the high towers of Holdernesse Hall. Then in the gloom we saw the two side-lamps of a trap light up in the stable yard of the inn, and shortly afterwards heard the rattle of hoofs, as it wheeled out into the road and tore off at a furious pace in the direction of Chesterfield.
+
+“What do you make of that, Watson?” Holmes whispered.
+
+“It looks like a flight.”
+
+“A single man in a dog-cart, so far as I could see. Well, it certainly was not Mr. James Wilder, for there he is at the door.”
+
+A red square of light had sprung out of the darkness. In the middle of it was the black figure of the secretary, his head advanced, peering out into the night. It was evident that he was expecting someone. Then at last there were steps in the road, a second figure was visible for an instant against the light, the door shut, and all was black once more. Five minutes later a lamp was lit in a room upon the first floor.
+
+“It seems to be a curious class of custom that is done by the Fighting Cock,” said Holmes.
+
+“The bar is on the other side.”
+
+“Quite so. These are what one may call the private guests. Now, what in the world is Mr. James Wilder doing in that den at this hour of night, and who is the companion who comes to meet him there? Come, Watson, we must really take a risk and try to investigate this a little more closely.”
+
+Together we stole down to the road and crept across to the door of the inn. The bicycle still leaned against the wall. Holmes struck a match and held it to the back wheel, and I heard him chuckle as the light fell upon a patched Dunlop tyre. Up above us was the lighted window.
+
+“I must have a peep through that, Watson. If you bend your back and support yourself upon the wall, I think that I can manage.”
+
+An instant later his feet were on my shoulders. But he was hardly up before he was down again.
+
+“Come, my friend,” said he, “our day's work has been quite long enough. I think that we have gathered all that we can. It's a long walk to the school, and the sooner we get started the better.”
+
+He hardly opened his lips during that weary trudge across the moor, nor would he enter the school when he reached it, but went on to Mackleton Station, whence he could send some telegrams. Late at night I heard him consoling Dr. Huxtable, prostrated by the tragedy of his master's death, and later still he entered my room as alert and vigorous as he had been when he started in the morning. “All goes well, my friend,” said he. “I promise that before to-morrow evening we shall have reached the solution of the mystery.”
+
+At eleven o'clock next morning my friend and I were walking up the famous yew avenue of Holdernesse Hall. We were ushered through the magnificent Elizabethan doorway and into his Grace's study. There we found Mr. James Wilder, demure and courtly, but with some trace of that wild terror of the night before still lurking in his furtive eyes and in his twitching features.
+
+“You have come to see his Grace? I am sorry; but the fact is that the Duke is far from well. He has been very much upset by the tragic news. We received a telegram from Dr. Huxtable yesterday afternoon, which told us of your discovery.”
+
+“I must see the Duke, Mr. Wilder.”
+
+“But he is in his room.”
+
+“Then I must go to his room.”
+
+“I believe he is in his bed.”
+
+“I will see him there.”
+
+Holmes's cold and inexorable manner showed the secretary that it was useless to argue with him.
+
+“Very good, Mr. Holmes; I will tell him that you are here.”
+
+After half an hour's delay the great nobleman appeared. His face was more cadaverous than ever, his shoulders had rounded, and he seemed to me to be an altogether older man than he had been the morning before. He greeted us with a stately courtesy and seated himself at his desk, his red beard streaming down on to the table.
+
+“Well, Mr. Holmes?” said he.
+
+But my friend's eyes were fixed upon the secretary, who stood by his master's chair.
+
+“I think, your Grace, that I could speak more freely in Mr. Wilder's absence.”
+
+The man turned a shade paler and cast a malignant glance at Holmes.
+
+“If your Grace wishes—”
+
+“Yes, yes; you had better go. Now, Mr. Holmes, what have you to say?”
+
+My friend waited until the door had closed behind the retreating secretary.
+
+“The fact is, your Grace,” said he, “that my colleague, Dr. Watson, and myself had an assurance from Dr. Huxtable that a reward had been offered in this case. I should like to have this confirmed from your own lips.”
+
+“Certainly, Mr. Holmes.”
+
+“It amounted, if I am correctly informed, to five thousand pounds to anyone who will tell you where your son is?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“And another thousand to the man who will name the person or persons who keep him in custody?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“Under the latter heading is included, no doubt, not only those who may have taken him away, but also those who conspire to keep him in his present position?”
+
+“Yes, yes,” cried the Duke, impatiently. “If you do your work well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you will have no reason to complain of niggardly treatment.”
+
+My friend rubbed his thin hands together with an appearance of avidity which was a surprise to me, who knew his frugal tastes.
+
+“I fancy that I see your Grace's cheque-book upon the table,” said he. “I should be glad if you would make me out a cheque for six thousand pounds. It would be as well, perhaps, for you to cross it. The Capital and Counties Bank, Oxford Street branch, are my agents.”
+
+His Grace sat very stern and upright in his chair, and looked stonily at my friend.
+
+“Is this a joke, Mr. Holmes? It is hardly a subject for pleasantry.”
+
+“Not at all, your Grace. I was never more earnest in my life.”
+
+“What do you mean, then?”
+
+“I mean that I have earned the reward. I know where your son is, and I know some, at least, of those who are holding him.”
+
+The Duke's beard had turned more aggressively red than ever against his ghastly white face.
+
+“Where is he?” he gasped.
+
+“He is, or was last night, at the Fighting Cock Inn, about two miles from your park gate.”
+
+The Duke fell back in his chair.
+
+“And whom do you accuse?”
+
+Sherlock Holmes's answer was an astounding one. He stepped swiftly forward and touched the Duke upon the shoulder.
+
+“I accuse you,” said he. “And now, your Grace, I'll trouble you for that cheque.”
+
+Never shall I forget the Duke's appearance as he sprang up and clawed with his hands like one who is sinking into an abyss. Then, with an extraordinary effort of aristocratic self-command, he sat down and sank his face in his hands. It was some minutes before he spoke.
+
+“How much do you know?” he asked at last, without raising his head.
+
+“I saw you together last night.”
+
+“Does anyone else besides your friend know?”
+
+“I have spoken to no one.”
+
+The Duke took a pen in his quivering fingers and opened his cheque-book.
+
+“I shall be as good as my word, Mr. Holmes. I am about to write your cheque, however unwelcome the information which you have gained may be to me. When the offer was first made I little thought the turn which events might take. But you and your friend are men of discretion, Mr. Holmes?”
+
+“I hardly understand your Grace.”
+
+“I must put it plainly, Mr. Holmes. If only you two know of this incident, there is no reason why it should go any farther. I think twelve thousand pounds is the sum that I owe you, is it not?”
+
+But Holmes smiled and shook his head.
+
+“I fear, your Grace, that matters can hardly be arranged so easily. There is the death of this schoolmaster to be accounted for.”
+
+“But James knew nothing of that. You cannot hold him responsible for that. It was the work of this brutal ruffian whom he had the misfortune to employ.”
+
+“I must take the view, your Grace, that when a man embarks upon a crime he is morally guilty of any other crime which may spring from it.”
+
+“Morally, Mr. Holmes. No doubt you are right. But surely not in the eyes of the law. A man cannot be condemned for a murder at which he was not present, and which he loathes and abhors as much as you do. The instant that he heard of it he made a complete confession to me, so filled was he with horror and remorse. He lost not an hour in breaking entirely with the murderer. Oh, Mr. Holmes, you must save him—you must save him! I tell you that you must save him!” The Duke had dropped the last attempt at self-command, and was pacing the room with a convulsed face and with his clenched hands raving in the air. At last he mastered himself and sat down once more at his desk. “I appreciate your conduct in coming here before you spoke to anyone else,” said he. “At least, we may take counsel how far we can minimize this hideous scandal.”
+
+“Exactly,” said Holmes. “I think, your Grace, that this can only be done by absolute and complete frankness between us. I am disposed to help your Grace to the best of my ability; but in order to do so I must understand to the last detail how the matter stands. I realize that your words applied to Mr. James Wilder, and that he is not the murderer.”
+
+“No; the murderer has escaped.”
+
+Sherlock Holmes smiled demurely.
+
+“Your Grace can hardly have heard of any small reputation which I possess, or you would not imagine that it is so easy to escape me. Mr. Reuben Hayes was arrested at Chesterfield on my information at eleven o'clock last night. I had a telegram from the head of the local police before I left the school this morning.”
+
+The Duke leaned back in his chair and stared with amazement at my friend.
+
+“You seem to have powers that are hardly human,” said he. “So Reuben Hayes is taken? I am right glad to hear it, if it will not react upon the fate of James.”
+
+“Your secretary?”
+
+“No, sir; my son.”
+
+It was Holmes's turn to look astonished.
+
+“I confess that this is entirely new to me, your Grace. I must beg you to be more explicit.”
+
+“I will conceal nothing from you. I agree with you that complete frankness, however painful it may be to me, is the best policy in this desperate situation to which James's folly and jealousy have reduced us. When I was a very young man, Mr. Holmes, I loved with such a love as comes only once in a lifetime. I offered the lady marriage, but she refused it on the grounds that such a match might mar my career. Had she lived I would certainly never have married anyone else. She died, and left this one child, whom for her sake I have cherished and cared for. I could not acknowledge the paternity to the world; but I gave him the best of educations, and since he came to manhood I have kept him near my person. He surprised my secret, and has presumed ever since upon the claim which he has upon me and upon his power of provoking a scandal, which would be abhorrent to me. His presence had something to do with the unhappy issue of my marriage. Above all, he hated my young legitimate heir from the first with a persistent hatred. You may well ask me why, under these circumstances, I still kept James under my roof. I answer that it was because I could see his mother's face in his, and that for her dear sake there was no end to my long-suffering. All her pretty ways, too—there was not one of them which he could not suggest and bring back to my memory. I could not send him away. But I feared so much lest he should do Arthur—that is, Lord Saltire—a mischief that I dispatched him for safety to Dr. Huxtable's school.
+
+“James came into contact with this fellow Hayes because the man was a tenant of mine, and James acted as agent. The fellow was a rascal from the beginning; but in some extraordinary way James became intimate with him. He had always a taste for low company. When James determined to kidnap Lord Saltire it was of this man's service that he availed himself. You remember that I wrote to Arthur upon that last day. Well, James opened the letter and inserted a note asking Arthur to meet him in a little wood called the Ragged Shaw, which is near to the school. He used the Duchess's name, and in that way got the boy to come. That evening James bicycled over—I am telling you what he has himself confessed to me—and he told Arthur, whom he met in the wood, that his mother longed to see him, that she was awaiting him on the moor, and that if he would come back into the wood at midnight he would find a man with a horse, who would take him to her. Poor Arthur fell into the trap. He came to the appointment and found this fellow Hayes with a led pony. Arthur mounted, and they set off together. It appears—though this James only heard yesterday—that they were pursued, that Hayes struck the pursuer with his stick, and that the man died of his injuries. Hayes brought Arthur to his public-house, the Fighting Cock, where he was confined in an upper room, under the care of Mrs. Hayes, who is a kindly woman, but entirely under the control of her brutal husband.
+
+“Well, Mr. Holmes, that was the state of affairs when I first saw you two days ago. I had no more idea of the truth than you. You will ask me what was James's motive in doing such a deed. I answer that there was a great deal which was unreasoning and fanatical in the hatred which he bore my heir. In his view he should himself have been heir of all my estates, and he deeply resented those social laws which made it impossible. At the same time he had a definite motive also. He was eager that I should break the entail, and he was of opinion that it lay in my power to do so. He intended to make a bargain with me—to restore Arthur if I would break the entail, and so make it possible for the estate to be left to him by will. He knew well that I should never willingly invoke the aid of the police against him. I say that he would have proposed such a bargain to me, but he did not actually do so, for events moved too quickly for him, and he had not time to put his plans into practice.
+
+“What brought all his wicked scheme to wreck was your discovery of this man Heidegger's dead body. James was seized with horror at the news. It came to us yesterday as we sat together in this study. Dr. Huxtable had sent a telegram. James was so overwhelmed with grief and agitation that my suspicions, which had never been entirely absent, rose instantly to a certainty, and I taxed him with the deed. He made a complete voluntary confession. Then he implored me to keep his secret for three days longer, so as to give his wretched accomplice a chance of saving his guilty life. I yielded—as I have always yielded—to his prayers, and instantly James hurried off to the Fighting Cock to warn Hayes and give him the means of flight. I could not go there by daylight without provoking comment, but as soon as night fell I hurried off to see my dear Arthur. I found him safe and well, but horrified beyond expression by the dreadful deed he had witnessed. In deference to my promise, and much against my will, I consented to leave him there for three days under the charge of Mrs. Hayes, since it was evident that it was impossible to inform the police where he was without telling them also who was the murderer, and I could not see how that murderer could be punished without ruin to my unfortunate James. You asked for frankness, Mr. Holmes, and I have taken you at your word, for I have now told you everything without an attempt at circumlocution or concealment. Do you in turn be as frank with me.”
+
+“I will,” said Holmes. “In the first place, your Grace, I am bound to tell you that you have placed yourself in a most serious position in the eyes of the law. You have condoned a felony and you have aided the escape of a murderer; for I cannot doubt that any money which was taken by James Wilder to aid his accomplice in his flight came from your Grace's purse.”
+
+The Duke bowed his assent.
+
+“This is indeed a most serious matter. Even more culpable in my opinion, your Grace, is your attitude towards your younger son. You leave him in this den for three days.”
+
+“Under solemn promises—”
+
+“What are promises to such people as these? You have no guarantee that he will not be spirited away again. To humour your guilty elder son you have exposed your innocent younger son to imminent and unnecessary danger. It was a most unjustifiable action.”
+
+The proud lord of Holdernesse was not accustomed to be so rated in his own ducal hall. The blood flushed into his high forehead, but his conscience held him dumb.
+
+“I will help you, but on one condition only. It is that you ring for the footman and let me give such orders as I like.”
+
+Without a word the Duke pressed the electric bell. A servant entered.
+
+“You will be glad to hear,” said Holmes, “that your young master is found. It is the Duke's desire that the carriage shall go at once to the Fighting Cock Inn to bring Lord Saltire home.
+
+“Now,” said Holmes, when the rejoicing lackey had disappeared, “having secured the future, we can afford to be more lenient with the past. I am not in an official position, and there is no reason, so long as the ends of justice are served, why I should disclose all that I know. As to Hayes I say nothing. The gallows awaits him, and I would do nothing to save him from it. What he will divulge I cannot tell, but I have no doubt that your Grace could make him understand that it is to his interest to be silent. From the police point of view he will have kidnapped the boy for the purpose of ransom. If they do not themselves find it out I see no reason why I should prompt them to take a broader point of view. I would warn your Grace, however, that the continued presence of Mr. James Wilder in your household can only lead to misfortune.”
+
+“I understand that, Mr. Holmes, and it is already settled that he shall leave me for ever and go to seek his fortune in Australia.”
+
+“In that case, your Grace, since you have yourself stated that any unhappiness in your married life was caused by his presence, I would suggest that you make such amends as you can to the Duchess, and that you try to resume those relations which have been so unhappily interrupted.”
+
+“That also I have arranged, Mr. Holmes. I wrote to the Duchess this morning.”
+
+“In that case,” said Holmes, rising, “I think that my friend and I can congratulate ourselves upon several most happy results from our little visit to the North. There is one other small point upon which I desire some light. This fellow Hayes had shod his horses with shoes which counterfeited the tracks of cows. Was it from Mr. Wilder that he learned so extraordinary a device?”
+
+The Duke stood in thought for a moment, with a look of intense surprise on his face. Then he opened a door and showed us into a large room furnished as a museum. He led the way to a glass case in a corner, and pointed to the inscription.
+
+“These shoes,” it ran, “were dug up in the moat of Holdernesse Hall. They are for the use of horses; but they are shaped below with a cloven foot of iron, so as to throw pursuers off the track. They are supposed to have belonged to some of the marauding Barons of Holdernesse in the Middle Ages.“
+
+Holmes opened the case, and moistening his finger he passed it along the shoe. A thin film of recent mud was left upon his skin.
+
+“Thank you,” said he, as he replaced the glass. “It is the second most interesting object that I have seen in the North.”
+
+“And the first?”
+
+Holmes folded up his cheque and placed it carefully in his note-book. “I am a poor man,” said he, as he patted it affectionately and thrust it into the depths of his inner pocket.
+
+[Text taken from here](https://sherlock-holm.es/stories/html/prio.html)

_posts/2018-08-12-the-adventure-of-the-speckled-band.md

@@ -0,0 +1,510 @@
+---
+title: The Adventure of the Speckled Band
+author: Arthur Conan Doyle
+category: literature
+layout: post
+---
+
+On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.
+
+It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.
+
+“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you.”
+
+“What is it, then—a fire?”
+
+“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance.”
+
+“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”
+
+I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered.
+
+“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are shivering.”
+
+“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested.
+
+“What, then?”
+
+“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances.
+
+“You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see.”
+
+“You know me, then?”
+
+“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.”
+
+The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion.
+
+“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver.”
+
+“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she. “I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to—none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful.”
+
+Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted.
+
+“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter.”
+
+“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me.”
+
+“I am all attention, madam.”
+
+“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.”
+
+Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he.
+
+“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man.
+
+“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother's re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money—not less than £1000 a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died—she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.
+
+“But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather's case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger.
+
+“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering 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 within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.”
+
+Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor.
+
+“Pray be precise as to details,” said he.
+
+“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?”
+
+“Perfectly so.”
+
+“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back.
+
+“‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the night?’
+
+“‘Never,’ said I.
+
+“‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?’
+
+“‘Certainly not. But why?’
+
+“‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.’
+
+“‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.’
+
+“‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.’
+
+“‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’
+
+“‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock.”
+
+“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+“And why?”
+
+“I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.”
+
+“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”
+
+“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister's side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister.”
+
+“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?”
+
+“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived.”
+
+“Was your sister dressed?”
+
+“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.”
+
+“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?”
+
+“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.”
+
+“How about poison?”
+
+“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.”
+
+“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?”
+
+“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.”
+
+“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?”
+
+“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”
+
+“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckled band?”
+
+“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used.”
+
+Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.
+
+“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your narrative.”
+
+“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice.”
+
+“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?”
+
+“Yes, all.”
+
+“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.”
+
+“Why, what do you mean?”
+
+For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.
+
+“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes.
+
+The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.”
+
+There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire.
+
+“This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?”
+
+“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way.”
+
+“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?”
+
+“By no means.”
+
+“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?”
+
+“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming.”
+
+“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?”
+
+“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room.
+
+“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair.
+
+“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.”
+
+“Dark enough and sinister enough.”
+
+“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end.”
+
+“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?”
+
+“I cannot think.”
+
+“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines.”
+
+“But what, then, did the gipsies do?”
+
+“I cannot imagine.”
+
+“I see many objections to any such theory.”
+
+“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!”
+
+The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.
+
+“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition.
+
+“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my companion quietly.
+
+“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”
+
+“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.”
+
+“I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. What has she been saying to you?”
+
+“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.
+
+“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man furiously.
+
+“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my companion imperturbably.
+
+“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.”
+
+My friend smiled.
+
+“Holmes, the busybody!”
+
+His smile broadened.
+
+“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!”
+
+Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught.”
+
+“I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.
+
+“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.
+
+“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.
+
+“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter.”
+
+It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures.
+
+“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little short of £1100, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750. Each daughter can claim an income of £250, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need.”
+
+At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.
+
+“Look there!” said he.
+
+A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.
+
+“Stoke Moran?” said he.
+
+“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked the driver.
+
+“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is where we are going.”
+
+“There's the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.”
+
+“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading his eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.”
+
+We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.
+
+“I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, “that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word.”
+
+Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening.”
+
+“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance,” said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened.
+
+“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.”
+
+“So it appears.”
+
+“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns?”
+
+“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine.”
+
+The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows.
+
+“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?”
+
+“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.”
+
+“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.”
+
+“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room.”
+
+“Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?”
+
+“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through.”
+
+“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?”
+
+Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter.”
+
+A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.
+
+“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow.
+
+“It goes to the housekeeper's room.”
+
+“It looks newer than the other things?”
+
+“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”
+
+“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”
+
+“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves.”
+
+“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.
+
+“Why, it's a dummy,” said he.
+
+“Won't it ring?”
+
+“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is.”
+
+“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.”
+
+“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!”
+
+“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.
+
+“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes.
+
+“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.”
+
+“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner apartment.”
+
+Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest.
+
+“What's in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.
+
+“My stepfather's business papers.”
+
+“Oh! you have seen inside, then?”
+
+“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”
+
+“There isn't a cat in it, for example?”
+
+“No. What a strange idea!”
+
+“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.
+
+“No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”
+
+“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention.
+
+“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!”
+
+The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.
+
+“What do you make of that, Watson?”
+
+“It's a common enough lash. But I don't know why it should be tied.”
+
+“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn.”
+
+I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie.
+
+“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect.”
+
+“I shall most certainly do so.”
+
+“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your compliance.”
+
+“I assure you that I am in your hands.”
+
+“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room.”
+
+Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.
+
+“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there?”
+
+“Yes, that is the Crown.”
+
+“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night.”
+
+“Oh, yes, easily.”
+
+“The rest you will leave in our hands.”
+
+“But what will you do?”
+
+“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you.”
+
+“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve.
+
+“Perhaps I have.”
+
+“Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's death.”
+
+“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.”
+
+“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright.”
+
+“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you.”
+
+Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.
+
+“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger.”
+
+“Can I be of assistance?”
+
+“Your presence might be invaluable.”
+
+“Then I shall certainly come.”
+
+“It is very kind of you.”
+
+“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me.”
+
+“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did.”
+
+“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.”
+
+“You saw the ventilator, too?”
+
+“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass through.”
+
+“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran.”
+
+“My dear Holmes!”
+
+“Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.”
+
+“But what harm can there be in that?”
+
+“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that strike you?”
+
+“I cannot as yet see any connection.”
+
+“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?”
+
+“I cannot say that I have.”
+
+“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.”
+
+“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.”
+
+“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful.”
+
+About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us.
+
+“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comes from the middle window.”
+
+As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand.
+
+There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness.
+
+“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”
+
+Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear.
+
+“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.”
+
+I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words:
+
+“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”
+
+I nodded to show that I had heard.
+
+“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”
+
+I nodded again.
+
+“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair.”
+
+I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.
+
+Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.
+
+How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness.
+
+From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall.
+
+Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull.
+
+“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”
+
+But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.
+
+“What can it mean?” I gasped.
+
+“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room.”
+
+With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand.
+
+It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion.
+
+“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes.
+
+I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.
+
+“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened.”
+
+As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it.
+
+Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.
+
+“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim.
+
+“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it.”
+
+“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”
+
+“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience.”
+
+[Text taken from here](https://sherlock-holm.es/stories/html/spec.html)