 Part 2, Chapter 6, of A Study in Scarlet. Our prisoner's furious resistance did not apparently indicate any ferocity in his disposition towards ourselves. From finding himself powerless, he smiled in an affable manner, and expressed his hopes that he had not hurt any of us in the scuffle. I guess you're going to take me to the police station," he remarked a shell of homes. My cab's at the door. If you loose my legs, I'll walk down to it. I'm not so light to lift as I used to be. Gregson and Lestrade exchanged glances, as if they thought this proposition rather a bold one. But Holmes at once took the prisoner at his word, and loosened the tail which we had bound around his ankles. He rose and stretched his legs, as though to assure himself that they were free once more. I remember that I thought to myself as I eyed him, that I had seldom seen a more powerfully-built man, and his dark sunburned face bore an expression of determination and energy which was as formidable as his personal strength. If there's a vacant place for a chief of the police, I reckon you are the man for it," he said, gazing with undisguised admiration at my fellow lodger. The way you kept on my trail was a caution. You had better come with me," said Holmes the two detectives. I can drive you," said Lestrade. Good, and Gregson can come inside with me. You too, Doctor, you have taken an interest in the case, and may as well stick to us. I assented gladly, and we all descended together. Our prisoner made no attempt at escape, but stepped calmly into the cab which had been his, and we followed him. Lestrade mounted the box, whipped up the horse, and brought us in a very short time to our destination. We were ushered into a small chamber where a police inspector noted down our prisoner's name and the names of the men with whose murder he had been charged. The official was a white-faced, unemotional man who went through his duties in a dull mechanical way. The prisoner will be put before the magistrates in the course of the week, he said. In the meantime, Mr. Jefferson Hope, have you anything you wish to say? I must warn you that your words will be taken down and may be used against you. I've got a good deal to say," our prisoner said slowly. I want to tell you gentlemen all about it. Hadn't you better reserve that for your trial? asked the inspector. I may never be tried," he answered. You needn't look startled. It isn't suicide, I'm thinking of. Are you a doctor? He turned his fierce eyes upon me as he asked this last question. Yes, I am," I answered. Then put your hand here," he said with a smile, motioning with his manical wrists towards his chest. I did so, and became at once conscious of an extraordinary throbbing and commotion which was going on inside. The walls of his chest seemed to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear a dull humming and buzzing noise which proceeded from the same source. Why? I cried. You have an aortic aneurysm! That's what they call it," he said placidly. I went to a doctor last week about it, and he told me that it is bound to burst before many days past. It has been getting worse for years. I got it from overexposure and undefeating among the Salt Lake Mountains. I've done my work now, and I don't care how soon I go, but I should like to leave some account of the business behind me. I don't want to be remembered as a common cutthroat. The inspector and the two detectives had a hurried discussion as to the advisability of allowing him to tell his story. Do you consider, doctor, that there is an immediate danger? the former asked. Most certainly there is, I answered. In that case clearly our duty in the interest of justice is to take his statements, said the inspector. You are at liberty, sir, to give you account, which I again warn you will be taken down. I'll sit down with your leave," the prisoner said, suiting the action to the word. This aneurysm of mine makes me easily tired, and the tussle we had half an hour ago has not mended matters. I'm on the brink of the grave, and I'm not likely to lie to you. Every word I say is the absolute truth, and how you use it is a matter of no consequence to me. With these words, Jefferson hoped leaned back in his chair, and began the following remarkable statement. He spoke in a calm and methodical manner, as though the events which he narrated were commonplace enough. I can vouch for the accuracy of the subjoined account, for I have had access to Lestrade's notebook in which the prisoner's words were taken down exactly as they were uttered. It don't much matter to you why I hated these men," he said. It's enough that they were guilty of the death of two human beings, a father and a daughter, and that they had, therefore, forfeited their own lives. After the lapse of time that has passed since their crime, it was impossible for me to secure a conviction against them in any court. I knew of their guilt, though, and I determined that I should be judged, jury, and executioner, all rolled into one. You'd have done the same if you had any manhood in you if you'd been in my place. That girl that I spoke of was to have married me twenty years ago. She was forced into marrying that same driver and broke her heart over it. I took the marriage ring from her dead finger, and I vowed that his dying eye should rest upon that very ring, and that his last thought should be of the crime for which he was punished. I have carried it about with me, and have followed him and his accomplice over two continents until I caught them. They thought to tire me out, but they could not do it. If I die tomorrow, as is likely enough, I die knowing that my work in this world is done, and well done. They have perished, and by my hand there is nothing left for me to hope for, or to desire. They were rich, and I was poor, so that it was no easy matter for me to follow them. When I got to London my pocket was about empty, and I found that I must turn my hand to something for my living. Driving and riding are as natural to me as walking, so I applied at a cab owner's office, and soon got employment. I was to bring a certain summer week to the owner, and whatever was over I might keep for myself. They were seldom much over, but I managed to scrape along somehow. The hardest job was to learn my way about, for I reckon that of all the mazes that ever were contrived, this city is the most confusing. I had a map beside me, though, and when once I had spotted the principal hotels and stations, I got on pretty well. It was some time before I found out where my two gentlemen were living, but I inquired and inquired until at last I dropped across them. They were at a boarding house in Camberwell, over on the other side of the river. When once I found them out, I knew that I had them at my mercy. I had grown my beard, and there was no chance that they're recognising me. I would dog them and follow them until I saw my opportunity. I was determined that they should not escape me again. They were very near doing it for all that. Go where they would about London, I was always at their heels. Sometimes I followed them on my cab, and sometimes on foot, but the former was the best, for then they could not get away from me. It was only early in the morning or late at night that I could earn anything, so that I began to get behind hand with my employer. I did not mind that, however, as long as I could lay my hand upon the men I wanted. They were very cunning, though. They must have thought that there was some chance of their being followed, for they would never go out alone and never after nightfall. During two weeks I drove behind them every day, and never once saw them separate. Drebber himself was drunk half the time, but Stangerson was not to be caught napping. I watched them late and early, but never saw the ghost of a chance, but I was not discouraged, for something told me that the hour had almost come. My only fear was that this thing in my chest might burst a little too soon and leave my work undone. At last one evening I was driving up and down Torquay Terrace, as the street was called in which they boarded, when I saw a cab drive up to their door. Presently some luggage was brought out, and after a time Drebber and Stangerson followed it and drove off. I whipped up my horse and kept within sight of them, feeling very ill at ease, for I feared that they were going to shift their quarters. At Houston Station they got out, and I left a boy to hold my horse and followed them onto the platform. I heard them ask for the Liverpool train, and the guard answered that one had just gone and there would not be another for some hours. Stangerson seemed to be put out at that, but Drebber was rather pleased than otherwise. I got so close to them in the bustle that I could hear every word that passed between them. Drebber said that he had a little business of his own to do, and that if the other would wait for him, he would soon rejoin him. His companion remonstrated with him and reminded him that they had resolved to stick together. Drebber answered that the matter was a delicate one, and that he must go alone. I could not catch what Stangerson said to that, but the other burst out swearing and reminded him that he was nothing more than his paid servant, and that he must not presume to dictate to him. On that, the secretary gave it up as a bad job and simply bargained with him that if he missed the last train, he should rejoin him at Halliday's private hotel, to which Drebber answered that he would be back on the platform before eleven and made his way out of the station. The moment for which I had waited so long had at last come. I had my enemies within my power. Together they could protect each other, but singly they were at my mercy. I did not act, however, with undue precipitation. My plans were already formed. There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realise who it is that strikes him and why retribution has come upon him. I had my plans arranged by which I should have the opportunity of making the man who had wronged me understand that his old sin had found him out. A chance that some days before, a gentleman who had been engaged in looking over some houses in the Brixton Road had dropped the key of one of them in my carriage. It was claimed that same evening and returned, but in the interval I had taken a moulding of it and had a duplicate constructed. By means of this, I had access to at least one spot in this great city where I could rely on being free from interruption. How to get driven to that house was the difficult problem which I now had to solve. He walked down the road and went into one or two liquor shops, staying for nearly half an hour in the last of them. When he came out, he staggered in his walk and was evidently pretty well on. There was a handsome just in front of me and he hailed it. I followed it so close that the nose of my horse was in the yard of his driver the whole way. We rattled across Waterloo Bridge and through miles of streets and till to my astonishment, we found ourselves back in the terrace in which he had boarded. I could not imagine what his intention was in returning there, but I went on and pulled up my cab a hundred yards or so from the house. He entered it and his handsome drove away. Give me a glass of water if you please, my mouth gets dry with the talking. I handed him a glass and he drank it down. That's better, he said. Well, I waited for a quarter of an hour or more when suddenly there came a noise like people struggling inside the house. Next moment the door was flung open and two men appeared, one of whom was Drebber and the other was a young chap whom I had never seen before. This fellow had Drebber by the collar and when they came to the head of the steps he gave him a shove and a kick which sent him half across the road. You hound! he cried, shaking his stick at him. I'll teach you to insult an honest girl. He was so hot that I think he would have thrust Drebber with his cudgel, only that curse staggered away down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran as far as the hotel and then seeing my cab, he hailed me and jumped in. Drive me to Halliday's private hotel, said he. When I had him fairly inside my cab, my heart jumped so with joy that I feared lest at this last moment my aneurysm might go wrong. I drove along slowly weighing in my own mind what it was best to do. I might take him right out into the country and there in some deserted lane have my last interview with him. I had almost decided upon this when he solved the problem for me. The craze for drink had seized him again and he ordered me to pull up outside a gin palace. He went in, leaving word that I should wait for him. There he remained until closing time and when he came out he was so far gone that I knew the game was in my own hands. Don't imagine that I intended to kill him in cold blood. It would only have been rigid just as if I had done so but I could not bring myself to do it. I had long determined that he should have a show for his life if he chose to take advantage of it. Among the many billets which I have filled in America during my wandering life I was once janitor and sweeper out of the laboratory at York College. One day a professor was lecturing on poisons and he showed his students some alkaloid as he called it which he had extracted from some South American arrow poison and which was so powerful that the least grain meant instant death. I spotted the bottle in which this preparation was kept and when they were all gone I helped myself to a little of it. I was a fairly good dispenser so I worked this alkaloid into small soluble pills and each pill I put in a box with a similar pill made without the poison. I determined at the time that when I had my chance my gentlemen should each have a draw out of one of these boxes while I ate the pill that remained. It would be quite as deadly and a good deal less noisy than firing across Angerchick. From that day I had always my pill boxes about with me and the time had now come when I was to use them. It was nearer one than 12 and a wild bleak night blowing hard and raining in torrents. Dismals that was outside I was glad within so glad I could have shouted out from pure exultation. If any of you gentlemen have ever pined for a thing and longed for it during 20 long years and then suddenly found it within your reach you would understand my feelings. I lit a cigar and puffed at it to steady my nerves but my hands were trembling and my temples throbbing with excitement. As I drove I could see old John Ferrier and sweet Lucy looking at me out of the darkness and smiling at me just as plain as I see you all in this room. All the way they were ahead of me one on each side of the horse until I pulled up at the house in the Brixton Road. There was not a soul to be seen nor a sound to be heard except the dripping of the rain. When I looked in at the window I found Trevor all huddled together in a drunken sleep. I shook him by the arm. It's time to get out. I said, all right, Caby, said he. I suppose he thought we had come down to the hotel that he had mentioned but he got out with that another word and followed me down the garden. I had to walk beside him to keep him steady for he was still a little top heavy. When we came to the door I opened it and led him into the front room. I give you my word that all the way the father and the daughter were walking in front of us. It's infernally dark, said he, stamping about. We'll soon have a light, I said, striking a match and putting it to a waxed candle which I had brought with me. Now, Enoch Trevor, I continued turning to him and holding the light to my own face. Who am I? He gazed at me with bliered drunken eyes for a moment and then I saw a horror spring up in them and convulsed his whole features which showed me that he knew me. He staggered back with a livid face and I saw the perspiration break out on his brow while his teeth chattered in his head. At the sight I leaned my back against the door and laughed loud and long. I'd always known that vengeance would be sweet but I had never hoped for the contentment of soul which now possessed me. You dog, I said. I have hunted you from Salt Lake City to St. Petersburg and you have always escaped me. Now at last your wanderings have come to an end for either you or I shall never see tomorrow's sunrise. He shrunk still further away as I spoke and I could see on his face that he thought I was mad. So I was for the time. The pulses in my temples beat like sledgehammers and I believe I would have had a fitter some sort if the blood had not gushed from my nose and relieved me. What do you think of Lurcy Ferrier now? I cried locking the door and shaking the key in his face. Punishment has been slow in coming but it has overtaken you at last. I saw his coward lips tremble as I spoke. He would have begged for his life but he knew well that it was useless. Would you murder me? He stammered. There is no murder, I answered. Who talks of murdering a mad dog? What mercy had you upon my poor darling when you dragged her from her slaughtered father and bore her away to your accursed and shameless harem? It was not I who killed her father, he cried. But it was you who broke her innocent heart. I shrieked thrusting the box before him. Let the high God judge between us, choose and eat. There is death in one and life in the other. I shall take what you leave. Let us see if there is justice upon the earth or if we are ruled by chance. He cowered away with wild cries and prayers for mercy but I drew my knife and held it to his throat until he had obeyed me. Then I swallowed the other and we stood facing one another in silence for a minute or more, waiting to see which was to live and which was to die. Shall I ever forget the look which came over his face when the first warning pangs told him that the poison was in his system. I laughed as I saw it and I held Lucy's marriage ring in front of his eyes. It was but for a moment, for the action of the alkaloid is rapid. A spasm of pain contorted his features. He threw his hands out in front of him staggered and then with a hoarse cry fell heavily upon the floor. I turned him over with my foot and placed my hand upon his heart. There was no movement, he was dead. The blood had been streaming from my nose but I had taken no notice of it. I don't know what it was that put it into my head to ride upon the wall with it. Perhaps it was some mischievous idea of setting the police upon the wrong track for I felt light-hearted and cheerful. I remembered a German being found in New York with race written up above him and it was argued at the time in the newspapers that the secret societies must have done it. I guessed that what puzzled the New Yorkers would puzzle the Londoners. So I dipped my finger in my own blood and printed it on a convenient place on the wall. Then I walked down to my cab and found that there was nobody about and that the night was still very wild. I had driven some distance when I put my hand into the pocket in which I usually kept loose his ring and found that it was not there. I was thunderstruck at this for it was the only memento I had of her. Thinking that I might have dropped it when I stooped over Drebber's body, I drove back and leaving my cabin aside straight, I went boldly up to the house for I was ready to dare anything rather than to lose the ring. When I arrived there, I walked right into the arms of a police officer who was coming out and only managed to disarm his suspicions by pretending to be hopelessly drunk. That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end. All I had to do then was to do as much of a dangerous and so pay off John Ferrier's debt. I knew that he was staying at Halliday's private hotel and I hung about all day, but he never came out. I fancied that he suspected something when Drebber failed to put in an appearance. He was cunning with Stangerson and always on his guard. If he thought he could keep me off by staying indoors, he was very much mistaken. I soon found out which was the window of his bedroom and early next morning I took advantage of some ladders which were lying in the lane behind the hotel and so made my way into his room in the gray of the dawn. I woke him up and told him that the hour had come when he was to answer for the life he had taken so long before. I described Drebber's death to him and I gave him the same choice at the poison pills. Instead of grasping at the chance of safety which that offered him, he sprang from the bed and flew at my throat. In self-defence I stabbed him to the heart. It would have been the same in any case for Providence would never have allowed his guilty hand to pick out anything but the poison. I have a little more to say and that's as well for I'm about done up. I went on cabing it for a day or so and tended to keep at it until I could save enough to take me back to America. I was standing in the yard when a ragged youngster asked if there was a cabby there called Jefferson Hope and said that his cab was wanted by a gentleman at 221B Baker Street. I went around suspecting no harm and the next thing I knew, this young man here had the bracelets on my wrists and as neatly shackled as ever I saw in my life. That's the whole of my story gentlemen. You may consider me to be a murderer but I hold that I am just as much an officer of justice as you are. So thrilling had the man's narrative been and his manner was so impressive that we had sat silent and absorbed. Even the professional detectives Blase as they were in every detail of crime appeared to be keenly interested in the man's story. When he finished we sat for some minutes in a stillness which was only broken by the scratching of Lestrade's pencil as he gave the finishing touches to his shorthand account. There is only one point on which I should like a little more information. Sherlock Holmes said at last, who was your accomplice who came for the ring which I advertised? The prisoner winked at my friend jocosally. I can tell my own secrets he said but I don't get other people into trouble. I saw your advertisement and I thought it might be a plant or it might be the ring that I wanted. My friend volunteered to go and see. I think you'll own he did it smartly. Not a doubt of that, said Holmes heartily. Now gentlemen, the inspector remarked gravely. The forms of law must be complied with. On Thursday the prisoner will be brought before the magistrates and your attendance will be required. Until then, I will be responsible for him. He rang the bell as he spoke and Jefferson Hope was let off by a couple of waters. Well, my friend and I made our way out of the station and took a cab back to Baker Street. End of part two, chapter six. Part two, chapter seven of A Study in Scarlet. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Beth Thomas. A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Part two, chapter seven, the conclusion. We had all been warned to appear before the magistrates upon the Thursday. But when the Thursday came, there was no occasion for our testimony. A higher judge had taken the matter in hand and Jefferson Hope had been summoned before a tribunal where strict justice would be meted out to him. On the very night after his capture, the aneurysm burst, and he was found in the morning stretched upon the floor of the cell with a placid smile upon his face, as though he had been able in his dying moments to look back upon a useful life and on work well done. Gregson and Lestrade will be wild about his death, Holmes remarked, as we chatted it over next evening. Where will their grand advertisement be now? I don't say that they had very much to do with his capture, I answered. What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence. Return my companion bitterly. The question is, what can you make people believe that you have done? Never mind. He continued more brightly after a pause. I would not have missed the investigation for anything. There has been no better case within my recollection. Simple as it was, there were several most instructive points about it. Simple, I ejaculated. Well really, it can hardly be described as otherwise, said Sherlock Holmes smiling at my surprise. The proof of its intrinsic simplicity is that without any help save a very few ordinary deductions. I was able to lay my hand upon the criminal within three days. That is true, said I. I have already explained to you that what is out of the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance. In solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backwards. That is a very useful accomplishment and a very easy one, but people do not practice it much. In the everyday affairs of life, it is more useful to reason forwards and so the other comes to be neglected. There are 50 who can reason synthetically for one who can reason analytically. I confess, said I, that I do not quite follow you. I hardly expected that you would. Let me see if I can make it clearer. Most people, if you describe a train of events to them, will tell you what the result would be. They can put those events together in their minds and argue from them that something will come to pass. There are few people, however, who if you told them a result would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousness what the steps were, which led up to that result. This power is what I mean when I talk a reasoning backwards or analytically. I understand, said I. Now this was a case in which you were given the result and had to find everything else for yourself. Now let me endeavour to show you the different steps in my reasoning. To begin at the beginning, I approached the house, as you know, on foot and with my mind entirely free from all impressions. I naturally began by examining the roadway and there, as I've already explained to you, I saw clearly the marks of a cab, which I, ascertained by inquiry, must have been there during the night. I satisfied myself that it was a cab and not a private carriage by the narrow gauge of the wheels. The ordinary London growler is considerably less wide than a gentleman's brome. This was the first point gained. I then walked slowly down the garden path which happened to be composed of a clay soil, peculiarly suitable for taking impressions. No doubt it appeared to you to be a mere trampled line of slush, but to my trained eyes, every mark upon its surface had a meaning. There is no branch of detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracing footsteps. Happily, I have always laid great stress upon it and much practice has made it second nature to me. I saw the heavy foot marks of the constables, but I saw also the track of the two men who had first passed through the garden. It was easy to tell that they had been before the others because in places their marks have been entirely obliterated by the others coming upon the top of them. In this way my second link was formed which told me that the nocturnal visitors were two in number, one remarkable for his height as I calculated from the length of his stride and the other fashionably dressed to judge from the small and elegant impressions left by his boots. On entering the house, this last inference was confirmed. My well-booted man lay before me. The tall one then had done the murder, if murder there was. There was no wound upon the dead man's person but the agitated expression upon his face assured me that he had foreseen his fate before it came upon him. Men who die from heart disease or any sudden natural cause never by any chance exhibit agitation upon their features. Having sniffed the dead man's lips, I detected a slightly sour smell and I came to the conclusion that he had poison forced upon him. Again I argued that it had been forced upon him from the hatred and fear expressed upon his face. By the method of exclusion I had arrived at this result for no other hypothesis would meet the facts. Do not imagine that it was a very unheard of idea. The forcible administration of poison is by no means a new thing in criminal annals. The cases of Dalsky in Odessa and of La Turia in Montpellier will occur at once to any toxicologist. And now came the great question as to the reason why. Robbery had not been the object of the murder for nothing was taken. Was it politics then or was it a woman? That was the question which confronted me. I was inclined from the first to the latter supposition. Political assassins are only too glad to do their work and to fly. This murder had on the contrary been done most deliberately and the perpetrator had left his tracks all over the room showing that he had been there all the time. It must have been a private wrong and not a political one which called for such a methodical revenge. When the inscription was discovered upon the wall I was more inclined than ever to my opinion. The thing was too evidently a-blind. When the ring was found, however, it settled the question. Clearly the murderer had used it to remind his victim of some dead or absent woman. It was at this point that I asked Gregson whether he had inquired in his telegram to Cleveland as to any particular point in Mr. Drebber's former career. He answered, you remember, in the negative. I then proceeded to make a careful examination of the room which confirmed me in my opinion as to the murderer's height and furnished me with the additional details as to the Trichinopolis cigar and the length of his nails. I had already come to the conclusion since there were no signs of a struggle that the blood which covered the floor had burst from the murderer's nose in his excitement. I could perceive that the track of blood coincided with the track of his feet. It is seldom that any man, unless he is very full-blooded, breaks out in this way through emotion. So I hazarded the opinion that the criminal was probably a robust and ruddy-faced man. Events proved that I had judged correctly. Having left the house I proceeded to do what Gregson had neglected. I telegraphed to the head of the police at Cleveland, limiting my inquiry to the circumstances connected with the marriage of Enoch Drebber. The answer was conclusive. It told me that Drebber had already applied for the protection of the law against an old rival in love named Jefferson Hope, and that this same Hope was present in Europe. I knew now that I held the clue to the mystery in my hand and all that remained was to secure the murderer. I had already determined in my own mind that the man who had walked into the house with Drebber was none other than the man who had driven the cab. The marks on the road showed me that the horse had wandered on in a way which would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it. Where then could the driver be unless he were inside the house? Again, it is absurd to suppose that any sane man would carry out a deliberate crime under the very eyes, as it were, of a third person who was sure to betray him. Lastly, supposing one man wished to dog another through London, what better means could he adopt than to turn cab driver? All these considerations led me to the irresistible conclusion that Jefferson Hope was to be found among the Jarvis of the Metropolis. If he had been one, there was no reason to believe that he had ceased to be. On the contrary, from his point of view, any sudden change would be likely to draw attention to himself. He would, probably, for a time at least, continue to perform his duties. There was no reason to suppose that he was going under an assumed name. Why should he change his name in a country where no one knew his original one? I therefore organised my street Arab detective cause and sent them systematically to every cab proprietor in London until they ferreted out the man I wanted. How well they succeeded and how quickly I took advantage of it are still fresh in your recollection. The murder of Stangerson was an incident which was entirely unexpected but which could hardly, in any case, have been prevented. Through it, as you know, I came into possession of the pills, the existence of which I had already surmised. You see, the whole thing is a chain of logical sequences without break or flaw. It is wonderful, I cried. Your merit should be publicly recognised. You should publish an account of the case. If you won't, I will for you. You may do what you like, Doctor, he answered. See here, he continued handing a paper over to me. Look at this. It was the echo for the day and the paragraph to which he pointed was devoted to the case in question. The public, it said, have lost a sensational treat through the sudden death of the man Hope, who was suspected of the murder of Mr. Enoch Drebber and Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The details of the case will probably never be known now, though we are informed upon good authority that the crime was the result of an old-standing and romantic feud in which love and Mormonism bore a part. It seems that both the victims belonged in their younger days to the latter-day Saints and Hope, the deceased prisoner, hails also from Salt Lake City. If the case has had no other effect, it at least brings out in the most striking manner the efficiency of our detective police force and will serve as a lesson to all foreigners that they would do wisely to settle their feuds at home and not to carry them onto British soil. It is an open secret that the credit of this smart capture belongs entirely to the well-known Scotland Yard officials, M. Lestrade and Gregson. The man was apprehended, it appears, in the rooms of a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who has himself, as an amateur, shown some talent in the detective line and who, with such instructors, may hope in time to attain to some degree of their skill. It is expected that a testimonial of some sort will be presented to the two officers as a fitting recognition of their services. Didn't I tell you so when we started, cried Sherlock Holmes with a laugh? That's the result of all our study in Scarlet, to get them a testimonial. Never mind, I answered. I have all the facts in my journal and the public shall know them. In the meantime, you must make yourself contented by the consciousness of success, like the Roman miser. Populis me sibilat at mihi plardo ibsae domi simul ac numos contempl in aca. Footnote. The quotation is from Horace Book One, Satire One. Translation. The public hisses at mihi, but I applaud myself in my own house and simultaneously contemplate the money in my chest. End of Part Two, Chapter Seven, recording by Beth Thomas. End of a study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.