 Adventure 7. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worst for wear, and cracked in several places. A lens and the four-stips lying on the seat of the chair, suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination. "'You are engaged,' said I. "'Perhaps I interrupt you.' Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat. But there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest, and even of instruction. I seated myself in his armchair, and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice-crystals. "'I suppose,' I remarked, that homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked onto it, that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery, and the punishment of some crime. "'No, no, no, crime,' said Sherlock Holmes, laughing, only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre, without being criminal. We have already had experience of such.' "'So much so,' I remarked, that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime. "'Precisely, you allude to my attempt to recover the Iweenie-Ardler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category.' "'You know, Peterson,' the Commissioner. "'Yes, it is to him that this trophy belongs.' "'It is his hat.' "'No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown.' "'I beg that you will look upon it, not as a battered billycock, but as an intellectual problem, and first as to how it came here. "'It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. "'The facts are these. About four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who as you know is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification, and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. "'In front of him he saw in the gaslight a tallish man walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. "'As he reached the corner of Good Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of ruffs. One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself, and swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. "'Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants. "'But the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official looking at Peterson in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. "'The ruffs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory, in the shape of this battered hat, and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.' "'Which surely he restored to their owner?' "'My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that for Mrs. Henry Baker was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials H.B. are legible upon the lining of this hat. But as there are some thousands of bakers, and some hundreds of Henry bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them.' "'What then did Peterson do?' "'He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.' "'Did he not advertise?' "'No.' "'Then what clue could you have as to his identity?' "'Only as much as we can deduce.' "'From his hat.' "'Precisely.' "'But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?' "'Here is my lens. You know my methods.' "'What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?' "'I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather roofily. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse the wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's name, but as Holmes had remarked the initials H.B. were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat secure, but the elastic was missing. For the rest it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. "'I can see nothing,' said I, handing it back to my friend. "'On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then pray, tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?' He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. "'It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been,' he remarked, and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability, that the man was highly intellectual is, of course, obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well to do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him. "'My dear Holmes!' He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect. He continued disregarding my remonstance. "'He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of chaining entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house. "'You are certainly joking, Holmes!' "'Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?' "'I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?' For answer, Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "'It is a question of cubic capacity,' said he. "'A man with so large a brain must have something in it.' Their decline of his fortunes then. "'This hat is three years old. These flat brims, curled at the edge, came in then. "'It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. "'If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world.' "'Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?' Sherlock Holmes laughed. "'Here is the foresight,' said he, putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat secure. "'They are never sold upon hats. "'If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, "'since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. "'But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, "'it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, "'which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. "'On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt "'by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect. "'Your reasoning is certainly plausible. "'The further points that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, "'that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, "'are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. "'The lens discloses a large number of hair ends, clean-cut by the scissors of the barber. "'They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. "'This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty grey dust of the street, "'but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, "'while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive "'that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore hardly be in the best of training.' "'But his wife, you said that she had ceased to love him.' "'This hat has not been brushed for weeks. "'When I see you, my dear Watson, with a weak accumulation of dust upon your hat, "'and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, "'I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection.' "'But he might be a bachelor.' "'Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a piece offering to his wife. "'Remember the card upon the bird's leg.' "'You have an answer to everything. "'But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?' "'One tallow-stain, or even two, might come by chance. "'But when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt "'that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow. "'He upstairs at night, probably with his hat in one hand "'and a guttering candle in the other. "'Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. "'Are you satisfied?' "'Well, it is very ingenious,' said I, laughing. "'But since that you said just now there has been no crime committed "'to harm Dunn,' saved the loss of a goose, "'all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.' Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply when the door flew open and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. "'The goose, Mr. Holmes, the goose, sir,' he gasped. "'What of it, then? Has it returned to life "'and flapped off through the kitchen window?' Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face. "'See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crawl!' He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand. Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "'By Jove, Peterson,' said he. "'This is treasure trove indeed. "'I suppose you know what you have got. "'A diamond, sir, a precious stone. "'It cuts into glass as though it were putty. "'It's more than a precious stone. "'It is THE precious stone.' "'Not that countess of more cars' blue car-bungle,' I ejaculated. "'Precisely so. "'I ought to know its size and shape, "'seeing that I have read the advertisement about it "'in the Times every day lately. "'It is absolutely unique, "'and its value can only be conjectured, "'but the reward offered of a thousand pounds "'is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price. "'A thousand pounds! Great Lord of Mercy!' "'The commissioner plumped down into a chair "'and stared from one to the other of us. "'That is the reward, "'and I have reason to know "'that there are sentimental considerations in the background "'which would induce the countess to part "'with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem.' "'It was lost, if I remember a right, "'at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,' I remarked. "'Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago, "'John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it "'from the lady's dual case. "'The evidence against him was so strong "'that the case has been referred to the ascises. "'I have some account of the matter here, I believe. "'He rummaged amid his newspapers glancing over the dates "'until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, "'and read the following paragraph.' "'Hotel Cosmopolitan dual robbery!' "'John Horner, a twenty-six plumber, "'was brought up upon the charge "'of having upon the twenty-second inst, "'abstracted from the dual case of the Countess of Morkar, "'the valuable gem known as the Blue Carbuncle. "'James Rider, upper attendant at the hotel, "'gave his evidence to the effect "'that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room "'on the Countess of Morkar upon the day of the robbery, "'in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, "'which was loose. "'He had remained with Horner some little time, "'but had finally been called away. "'On returning he found that Horner had disappeared, "'that the bureau had been forced open, "'and that the small Morocco casket, "'in which, as it afterwards transpired, "'the Countess was accustomed to keep her dual, "'was lying empty upon the dressing-table. "'Rider instantly gave the alarm, "'and Horner was arrested the same evening, "'but the stone could not be found "'either upon his person or in his rooms. "'Catherine Cusack, made to the Countess, "'deposed to having heard Rider's cry of dismay "'on discovering the robbery, "'and to having rushed into the room "'where she found matters as described by the last witness. "'Inspector Bradstreet, B Division, "'gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, "'who struggled frantically "'and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. "'Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery, "'having been given against the prisoner, "'the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, "'but referred it to the assizes. "'Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion "'during the proceedings, "'fainted away at the conclusion "'and was carried out of court. "'Hm, so much for the police-court,' said Holmes, "'thoughtfully tossing aside the paper. "'The question for us now to solve "'is the sequence of events leading "'from a rifled dual case at one end "'to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. "'You see, Watson, "'our little deductions have suddenly assumed "'a much more important and less innocent aspect. "'Here is the stone. "'The stone came from the goose "'and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, "'the gentleman with the bad hat, "'and all the other characteristics "'with which I have poured you. "'So now we must set ourselves very seriously "'to finding this gentleman "'and ascertaining what part he has played "'in this little mystery. "'To do this we must try the simplest means first, "'and these lie undoubtedly "'in an advertisement in all the evening papers. "'If this fail, "'I shall have recourse to other methods. "'What will you say? "'Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. "'Now then, found at the corner of Good Street, "'a goose and a black felt hat. "'Mr. Henry Baker can have the same "'by applying at 6.30 this evening "'at 2.21 B Baker Street. "'That is clear and concise. "'Very, but will he see it?' "'Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, "'since to a poor man the loss was a heavy one. "'He was clearly so scared by his mischance "'in breaking the window "'and by the approach of Peterson "'that he thought of nothing but flight, "'but since then he must have bitterly regretted "'the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. "'Then again the introduction of his name "'will cause him to see it, "'for everyone who knows him "'will direct his attention to it. "'Here you are, Peterson, "'run down to the advertising agency "'that is put in the evening papers. "'In which, sir? "'Oh, in the Globe, Star, "'Palmal, St. James's, Evening News, "'Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you. "'Very well, sir, and this stone? "'Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. "'Thank you. "'And I say, Peterson, "'just buy a goose on your way back "'and leave it here with me, "'for we must have one to give to this gentleman "'in place of the one which your family is now devouring. "'When the Commissioner had gone, "'Holmes took up the stone "'and held it against the light. "'It's a bonnet thing,' said he. "'Just see how it glints and sparkles. "'Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. "'Every good stone is. "'They are the devil's pet baits. "'In the larger and older jewels "'every facet may stand for a bloody deed. "'This stone is not yet twenty years old. "'It was found in the banks of the Amoy River "'in southern China, "'and is remarkable in having every characteristic "'of the carbuncle save that it is blue in shade "'instead of ruby red. "'In spite of its youth "'it has already a sinister history. "'There have been two murders, "'a vitriol throwing, "'a suicide and several robberies brought about "'for the sake of this forty-grain weight "'of crystallized charcoal. "'Who would think that so prettier toy "'would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? "'I'll lock it up in my strongbox now "'and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it. "'Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?' "'I cannot tell.' "'Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, "'Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?' "'It is, I think, much more likely "'that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man "'who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying "'was of considerably more value "'than if it were made of solid gold. "'That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test "'if we have an answer to our advertisement.' "'And you can do nothing until then?' "'Nothing. "'In that case I shall continue my professional round, "'but I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, "'and I should like to see the solution "'of so tangled a business. "'Very glad to see you. "'I dine at seven. "'There is a woodcock, I believe. "'By the way, in view of recent occurrences, "'perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.' "'End of Part One of Adventure Seven, "'The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle. "'Part Two of Adventure Seven of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes "'by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. "'This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, "'recording by Ruth Golding. "'Adventure Seven, the Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle. "'Part Two. "'I had been delayed at a case, "'and it was a little after half-past six "'when I found myself in Baker Street once more. "'As I approached the house, "'I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet "'with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin, "'waiting outside in the bright semicircle "'which was thrown from the fan-light. "'Just as I arrived, the door was opened, "'and we were shown up together to Holmes' room.' "'Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,' "'said he, rising from his armchair "'and was greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality "'which he could so readily assume. "'Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. "'It is a cold night, "'and I observe that your circulation is more adapted "'for summer than for winter. "'Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. "'Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?' "'Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.' "'He was a large man with rounded shoulders, "'a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, "'sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. "'A touch of red in nose and cheeks, "'with a slight tremor of his extended hand, "'recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits. "'His rusty black frockcoat was buttoned right up in front "'with the collar turned up, "'and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves "'without a sign of cuff or shirt. "'He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, "'choosing his words with care, "'and gave the impression generally of a man of learning "'and letters who had had ill usage at the hands of fortune. "'We have retained these things for some days,' said Holmes, "'because we expected to see an advertisement from you, "'giving your address. "'I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise. "'Our visitor gave a rather shame-faced laugh. "'Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were,' he remarked. "'I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me "'had carried off both my hat and the bird. "'I did not care to spend more money "'in a hopeless attempt at recovering them.' "'Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, "'we were compelled to eat it. "'To eat it!' Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. "'Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. "'But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, "'which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, "'will answer your purpose equally well?' "'Oh, certainly, certainly,' answered Mr Baker, with a sigh of relief. "'Of course we still have the feathers, legs, crop, "'and so on of your own bird. "'So if you wish the man burst into a hearty laugh, "'they might be useful to me as relics of my adventure,' said he. "'But beyond that, I can hardly see what use the disiector member "'of my later quaintance are going to be to me.' "'No, sir, I think that with your permission "'I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird "'which I perceive upon the sideboard.' Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "'There is your hat, then, and there your bird,' said he. "'By the way, would it bore you to tell me "'where you got the other one from? "'I am somewhat of a foul fancier "'and I have seldom seen a better-grown goose.' "'Certainly, sir,' said Baker, "'who had risen and tucked his newly-gained property under his arm. "'There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn near the museum. "'We are to be found in the museum itself during the day, you understand. "'This year our good host, Windigate, by name, instituted a goose club, "'by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, "'we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. "'My pence were duly paid and the rest is familiar to you. "'I am much indebted to you, sir, "'for a Scott bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity. "'With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us "'and strode off upon his way.' "'So much for Mr. Henry Baker,' said Holmes, "'when he had closed the door behind him. "'It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. "'Are you hungry, Watson?' "'Not particularly.' "'Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper "'and follow up this clue while it is still hot. "'By all means.' "'It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters "'and rapped cravats about our throats. "'Outside the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, "'and the breath of the passes by blew out into smoke "'like so many pistol shots. "'Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly "'as we swung through the doctor's quarter, "'Wimpold Street, Harley Street, "'so through Widmore Street into Oxford Street. "'In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, "'which is a small public house at the corner of one of the streets "'which runs down into Holburn. "'Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar "'and ordered two glasses of beer "'from the ruddy-faced white-aproned landlord. "'Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,' "'said he. "'My geese?' the man seemed surprised. "'Yes, I was speaking only half an hour ago "'to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club.' "'Oh, yes, I see, but you see, sir, them is not our geese.' "'Indeed, whose, then?' "'Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.' "'Indeed, I know some of them. Which was it?' "'Breckenridge is his name.' "'Ah, I don't know him. "'Well, here's your good health landlord "'and prosperity to your house. Good night.' "'Now, for Mr. Breckenridge,' he continued, "'buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. "'Remember, Watson, that though we have so homely a thing "'as a goose at one end of this chain, "'we have at the other a man who will certainly "'get seven years' penal servitude "'unless we can establish his innocence. "'It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt, "'but in any case we have a line of investigation "'which has been missed by the police "'and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. "'Let us follow it out to the bitter end, "'faces to the south, then, and quick march.' "'We passed across Holburn, down Enderle Street, "'and sewed through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. "'One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckenridge upon it, "'and the proprietor, a horsey-looking man "'with a sharp face and trimmed side whiskers, "'was helping a boy to put up the shutters. "'Good evening. It's a cold night,' said Holmes. "'The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance "'at my companion. "'Sold out of geese, I see,' continued Holmes, "'pointing at the bare slabs of marble. "'Let you have five hundred tomorrow morning.' "'That's no good.' "'Well, there are some on the saw with a gas-flare.' "'Ah! But I was recommended to you.' "'Oh, by!' "'The landlord of the alpha.' "'Oh, yes, I sent him a couple of dozen.' "'Fine birds they were, too. "'Now, where did you get them from?' "'To my surprise, the question provoked a burst of anger "'from the salesman. "'Now, then, mister,' said he, "'with his head cocked and his arms a-kimbo. "'Why are you driving at? Let's have it straight now.' "'It is straight enough. "'I should like to know who sold you the geese, "'which you supplied to the alpha.' "'Well, then, I shall tell you so now.' "'Oh, it is a matter of no importance, "'but I don't know why you should be so warm "'over such a trifle.' "'Warm? You'd be as warm maybe "'if you were as pest as I am. "'When I pay good money for a good article, "'there should be an end of the business, "'but it's where are the geese, "'and who did you sell the geese to, "'and what will you take for the geese? "'One would think they were the only geese in the world "'to hear the fuss that is made over them.' "'Well, I have no connection "'with any other people who have been making inquiries,' "'said homeless carelessly. "'If you won't tell us, the bet is off, that is all. "'But I'm always ready to back my opinion "'on a matter of fouls, "'and I have a fiver on it "'that the bird I ate is country bread.' "'Well, then, you've lost your fiver "'for its town bread,' snapped the salesman. "'It's nothing of the kind.' "'I say it is. I don't believe it.' "'Do you think you know more about fouls than I, "'who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? "'I'll tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha "'were town bread.' "'You'll never persuade me to believe that.' "'Will you bet, then?' "'It's merely taking your money, "'for I know that I am right. "'But I'll have a sovereign on with you "'just to teach you not to be obstinate.' "'The salesman chuckled grimly. "'Bring me the books, Bill,' said he. "'The small boy brought round a small thin volume "'and a great greasy-backed one, "'laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. "'Now, then, Mr. Cockshaw,' said the salesman, "'I thought that I was out of geese, "'but before I finish, "'you'll find that there is still one left in my shop. "'You see this little book.' "'Well?' "'That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. "'Do you see?' "'Well, then, here on this page of the country folk, "'and the numbers after their names "'are where their accounts are in the big ledger. "'Now, then, you see this other page in red ink. "'Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. "'Now, look at that third name. "'Just read it out to me.' "'Mrs. Oakshot, 117 Brixton Road, "'249 Red Holmes. "'Quite so. "'Now, turn that up in the ledger.' Holmes turned to the page indicated. "'Here you are, "'Mrs. Oakshot, 117 Brixton Road, "'egg and poultry supplier. "'Now, then, what's the last entry?' "'December 22nd, 24 Geese at seven shillings and sixpence. "'Quite so. "'There you are, and underneath?' "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha at twelve shillings.' "'What have you to say now?' "'Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. "'He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, "'turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. "'A few yards off he stopped under a lamppost "'and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion "'which was peculiar to him. "'When you see a man with whiskers of that cut "'the pinken protruding out of his pocket, "'you can always draw him by a bet,' said he. "'I dare say that if I had put a hundred pounds down in front of him, "'that man would not have given me such complete information "'as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager.' "'Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, "'and the only point which remains to be determined "'is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oaks shot to-night, "'or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow.' "'It is clear from what that surly fellow said "'that there are others beside ourselves who are anxious about the matter, "'and I should—' "'His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub "'which broke out from the stall which we had just left. "'Turning round, we saw a little rat-faced fellow "'standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light "'which was thrown by the swinging lamp, "'while Breckenridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, "'was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. "'I've had enough of you and your geese,' he shouted. "'I wish you were all at the devil together. "'If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk, "'I'll set the dog at you. "'You bring Mrs. Oaks shot here and I'll answer her. "'But what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?' "'No, but one of them was mine all the same,' "'quined the little man. "'Well, then ask Mrs. Oaks shot for it.' "'She told me to ask you.' "'Well, you can ask the King of Prusa for all our care. "'I've had enough of it. Get out of this!' "'He rushed fiercely forward and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. "'Ha! This may save us a visit to Brixton Road,' whispered Holmes. "'Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow.' Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round and I could see in the gaslight that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face. "'Who are you, then? What do you want?' he asked in a quavering voice. "'You will excuse me,' said Holmes blandly, "'but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. "'I think that I could be of assistance to you.' "'You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?' "'My name is Sherlock Holmes. "'It is my business to know what other people don't know.' "'But you can know nothing of this?' "'Excuse me, I know everything of it. "'You are endeavouring to chase some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott of Brixton Road "'to a salesman named Breckenridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha "'and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.' "'Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,' cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "'I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.' Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "'In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this "'wind-swept marketplace,' said he. "'But pray tell me before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting?' The man hesitated for an instant. "'My name is John Robinson,' he answered with a side-long glance. "'No, no, the real name,' said Holmes sweetly. "'It is always awkward doing business with an alias.' A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "'Well, then,' said he, my real name is James Ryder. "'Precisely so, head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan, "'pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know.' The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion and the claspings and unclassings of his hands spoke of the nervous tension within him. "'Here we are,' said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "'The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. "'You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket chair. "'I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours.' "'Now, then, you want to know what became of those geese?' "'Yes, sir.' "'Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. "'It was one bird, I imagine, in which you were interested, "'white with a black bar across the tail.' Ryder quivered with emotion. "'Oh, sir,' he cried. "'Can you tell me where it went to?' "'It came here.' "'Here?' "'Yes, and the most remarkable bird it proved. "'I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it. "'It laid an egg after it was dead. "'The bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. "'I have it here in my museum.' "'Our visitor staggered to his feet "'and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. "'Holmes unlocked his strongbox "'and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star "'with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance. "'Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, "'uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. "'The game's up, Ryder,' said Holmes quietly. "'Hold up, man, or you'll be into the fire. "'Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. "'He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. "'Give him a dash of brandy. "'So, now he looks a little more human. "'What a shrimp it is, to be sure. "'For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, "'but the brandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, "'and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser. "'I have almost every link in my hands "'and all the proofs which I could possibly need. "'So there is little which you need, tell me. "'Still, that little may as well be cleared up "'to make the case complete. "'You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone "'of the Countess of Morkar's.' "'It was a Catherine Kilsack who told me of it,' said he in a crackling voice. "'I see her ladyship's waiting-maid. "'Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired "'was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you. "'But you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. "'It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making "'of a very pretty villain in you. "'You knew that this man, Horner, the plumber, "'had been concerned in some such matter before "'and that suspicion would rest a more readily upon him. "'What did you do, then? "'You made some small job in my lady's room, "'you and your confederate Kilsack. "'And you managed that he should be the man sent for. "'Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel case, "'raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. "'You then, Ryder, threw himself down suddenly upon the rug "'and clutched at my companion's knees.' "'For God's sake, have mercy!' he shrieked. "'Think of my father, of my mother. "'It would break their hearts. "'I never went wrong before. "'I never will again. I swear it. "'I'll swear it on a Bible. "'Oh, don't bring it into court. "'For Christ's sake, don't!' "'Get back into your chair,' said Holmes sternly. "'It is very well to cringe and crawl now. "'But you thought little enough of this poor Horner "'in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.' "'I will fly, Mr. Holmes. "'I will leave the country, sir. "'Then the charge against him will break down.'" Hmm. We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose? And how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety." Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. "'I will tell you it, just as it happened, sir,' said he. "'When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister's house. She had married a man named Oakshot and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective, and for all that it was a cold night the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter and why I was so pale, but I told her that I had been upset by the dual robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the backyard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do. I had a friend once called Maudsley who went to the Bad and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me and fell into talk about the ways of thieves and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me for I knew one or two things about him. So I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn where he lived and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money, but how to get to him in safety. I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my Westcote pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet. And suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived. My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present. And I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard and behind this I drove one of the birds, a fine big one, white with a bad tail. I caught it and, prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brook broke loose and flooded off among the others. Whatever were you doing with that bird, Gem? says she. Well, said I, you said you'd give me one for Christmas and I was feeling which was the fattest. Oh, says she, we've set yours aside for you. Gem's bird, we call it, is the big white one over Yonder. There's twenty-six of them which makes one for you and one for us and two dozen for the market. Thank you, Maggie, says I. But if it is all the same to you I'd rather add that one I was handling just now. The other is a good three pound, Evia, said she, and we've fattened it expressly for you. Have a mind, I'll have the other and I'll take it now, said I. Oh, just as you like, said she a little uft. Which is it you want, then? That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock. Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you. Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that too. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird rushed back to my sisters and hurried into the backyard. There was not a bird to be seen there. Where are they all gone, Maggie? I cried. Gone to the dealer's gem. Which dealer's? Brackenridge of Covent Garden. But was there another with a barred tail, I asked, the same as the one I chose? Yes, Gem, there were two barred tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart. Well, then, of course, I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Brackenridge, but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves tonight. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself, and now, and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I have sold my character. God help me! God help me! He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing, and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes' fingertips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. Get out," said he. What a—oh, heaven bless you! No more words. Get out. And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street. After all, Watson, said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing, but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving the soul. This fellow will not go wrong again. He is too terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you make him a jailbird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our wear most singular twimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which also a bird will be the chief feature. End of THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE Adventure 8 of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes 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. 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 Roylots 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. There is 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, 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 wonder 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 unraveled 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 gray with restless, frightened eyes like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature gray and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick all-comprehensive glances. You must not fear," said he, soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see. You know me, then? No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog cart along heavy roads before you reached the station. The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion. There is no mystery, my dear madam," said he, smiling. The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver. Whatever your reasons may be you are perfectly correct," said she. I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this train no longer. I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to. None to 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. Farentosh, 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. Farentosh 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 with the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and diverted 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 Roylots 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 disillutant, 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 in 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 buckler 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 remarriage. She had a considerable sum of money, not less than a thousand pounds a year, and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual son 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 Crue. 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 saved 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 any one of our own age in position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Anoria Westphale, 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 lid-snuff and glanced across at his thittiter. 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 gypsies in the plantation. Very likely, and yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also. Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you. Well, it is of no great consequence at any rate. She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock. Indeed, said Holmes, was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night? Always. And why? I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked. Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement. I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I will recollect to her 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 ashore 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 cranging sound as if a massive metal had fallen. 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 feign 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-gum. 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 nitrous. 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 them? It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine. Were there gypsies in the plantation at the time? Yes, there are nearly always some there. Ah, and what did you gather from this solution to a band, a speckled band? Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium. Sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gypsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which he used. Holmes shook his head like a man who was 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 Crain 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 went 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-in 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 Royalot, 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 the 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 the 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 today, 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 today upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. I 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'll combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gypsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his step-daughter'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 gypsies do? I cannot imagine. I see many objections to any such theory. And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil? The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross-bar of the doorway, and his breath 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-Maran. Indeed, doctor, said Holmes blandly, pray take a seat. I will do nothing of the kind. My step-daughter 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 bitty body. 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, and I have had my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I trace 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. I can't see 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 chase her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctor's Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter. End of Part One of Adventure Eight, The Adventure of the Speckled Band