wohnzimmerwand taupe

the adventures of sherlock holmes bysir arthur conan doyle adventure v.the five orange pips when i glance over my notes and records ofthe sherlock holmes cases between the years '82 and '90, i am faced by so many whichpresent strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which tochoose and which to leave. some, however, have already gainedpublicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiarqualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the objectof these papers to illustrate. some, too, have baffled his analyticalskill, and would be, as narratives,

beginnings without an ending, while othershave been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on thatabsolute logical proof which was so dear to him. there is, however, one of these last whichwas so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that i am temptedto give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probablynever will be, entirely cleared up. the year '87 furnished us with a longseries of cases of greater or less

interest, of which i retain the records. among my headings under this one twelvemonths i find an account of the adventure of the paradol chamber, of the amateurmendicant society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with theloss of the british barque "sophy anderson", of the singular adventures ofthe grice patersons in the island of uffa, and finally of the camberwell poisoningcase. in the latter, as may be remembered,sherlock holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to prove that it had beenwound up two hours before, and that

therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--a deduction which was ofthe greatest importance in clearing up the case. all these i may sketch out at some futuredate, but none of them present such singular features as the strange train ofcircumstances which i have now taken up my pen to describe. it was in the latter days of september, andthe equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. all day the wind had screamed and the rainhad beaten against the windows, so that

even here in the heart of great, hand-madelondon we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of thosegreat elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of hiscivilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. as evening drew in, the storm grew higherand louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney. sherlock holmes sat moodily at one side ofthe fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while i at the other was deep in oneof clark russell's fine sea-stories until

the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of therain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. my wife was on a visit to her mother's, andfor a few days i was a dweller once more in my old quarters at baker street."why," said i, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell. who could come to-night?some friend of yours, perhaps?" "except yourself i have none," he answered."i do not encourage visitors." "a client, then?"

"if so, it is a serious case.nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour.but i take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlady's." sherlock holmes was wrong in hisconjecture, however, for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. he stretched out his long arm to turn thelamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer mustsit. "come in!" said he. the man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, well-groomed and

trimly clad, with something of refinementand delicacy in his bearing. the streaming umbrella which he held in hishand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he hadcome. he looked about him anxiously in the glareof the lamp, and i could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those ofa man who is weighed down with some great anxiety. "i owe you an apology," he said, raisinghis golden pince-nez to his eyes. "i trust that i am not intruding.i fear that i have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber."

"give me your coat and umbrella," saidholmes. "they may rest here on the hook and will bedry presently. you have come up from the south-west, isee." "yes, from horsham.""that clay and chalk mixture which i see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive." "i have come for advice.""that is easily got." "and help.""that is not always so easy." "i have heard of you, mr. holmes. i heard from major prendergast how yousaved him in the tankerville club scandal."

"ah, of course.he was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards." "he said that you could solve anything.""he said too much." "that you are never beaten.""i have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once by a woman." "but what is that compared with the numberof your successes?" "it is true that i have been generallysuccessful." "then you may be so with me." "i beg that you will draw your chair up tothe fire and favour me with some details as

to your case.""it is no ordinary one." "none of those which come to me are. i am the last court of appeal." "and yet i question, sir, whether, in allyour experience, you have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain ofevents than those which have happened in my own family." "you fill me with interest," said holmes."pray give us the essential facts from the commencement, and i can afterwards questionyou as to those details which seem to me to be most important."

the young man pulled his chair up andpushed his wet feet out towards the blaze. "my name," said he, "is john openshaw, butmy own affairs have, as far as i can understand, little to do with this awfulbusiness. it is a hereditary matter; so in order togive you an idea of the facts, i must go back to the commencement of the affair."you must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle elias and my father joseph. my father had a small factory at coventry,which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. he was a patentee of the openshawunbreakable tire, and his business met with

such success that he was able to sell itand to retire upon a handsome competence. "my uncle elias emigrated to america whenhe was a young man and became a planter in florida, where he was reported to have donevery well. at the time of the war he fought injackson's army, and afterwards under hood, where he rose to be a colonel. when lee laid down his arms my unclereturned to his plantation, where he remained for three or four years. about 1869 or 1870 he came back to europeand took a small estate in sussex, near horsham.

he had made a very considerable fortune inthe states, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and hisdislike of the republican policy in extending the franchise to them. he was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition. during all the years that he lived athorsham, i doubt if ever he set foot in the town. he had a garden and two or three fieldsround his house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weekson end he would never leave his room.

he drank a great deal of brandy and smokedvery heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends, not even hisown brother. "he didn't mind me; in fact, he took afancy to me, for at the time when he saw me first i was a youngster of twelve or so.this would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in england. he begged my father to let me live with himand he was very kind to me in his way. when he was sober he used to be fond ofplaying backgammon and draughts with me, and he would make me his representativeboth with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that i

was sixteen i was quite master of thehouse. i kept all the keys and could go where iliked and do what i liked, so long as i did not disturb him in his privacy. there was one singular exception, however,for he had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariablylocked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. with a boy's curiosity i have peepedthrough the keyhole, but i was never able to see more than such a collection of oldtrunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room.

"one day--it was in march, 1883--a letterwith a foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate. it was not a common thing for him toreceive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had no friendsof any sort. 'from india!' said he as he took it up,'pondicherry postmark! what can this be?' opening it hurriedly, out there jumped fivelittle dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. i began to laugh at this, but the laugh wasstruck from my lips at the sight of his

face. his lip had fallen, his eyes wereprotruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which hestill held in his trembling hand, 'k. k. k.!' he shrieked, and then, 'my god, mygod, my sins have overtaken me!' "'what is it, uncle?'i cried. "'death,' said he, and rising from thetable he retired to his room, leaving me palpitating with horror. i took up the envelope and saw scrawled inred ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter k three times repeated.there was nothing else save the five dried

pips. what could be the reason of hisoverpowering terror? i left the breakfast-table, and as iascended the stair i met him coming down with an old rusty key, which must havebelonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in theother. "'they may do what they like, but i'llcheckmate them still,' said he with an oath. 'tell mary that i shall want a fire in myroom to-day, and send down to fordham, the horsham lawyer.'"i did as he ordered, and when the lawyer

arrived i was asked to step up to the room. the fire was burning brightly, and in thegrate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brassbox stood open and empty beside it. as i glanced at the box i noticed, with astart, that upon the lid was printed the treble k which i had read in the morningupon the envelope. "'i wish you, john,' said my uncle, 'towitness my will. i leave my estate, with all its advantagesand all its disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt,descend to you. if you can enjoy it in peace, well andgood!

if you find you cannot, take my advice, myboy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. i am sorry to give you such a two-edgedthing, but i can't say what turn things are going to take.kindly sign the paper where mr. fordham shows you.' "i signed the paper as directed, and thelawyer took it away with him. the singular incident made, as you maythink, the deepest impression upon me, and i pondered over it and turned it every wayin my mind without being able to make anything of it. yet i could not shake off the vague feelingof dread which it left behind, though the

sensation grew less keen as the weekspassed and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. i could see a change in my uncle, however.he drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. most of his time he would spend in hisroom, with the door locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort ofdrunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that hewas afraid of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, byman or devil.

when these hot fits were over, however, hewould rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man whocan brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. at such times i have seen his face, even ona cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin. "well, to come to an end of the matter, mr.holmes, and not to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one ofthose drunken sallies from which he never came back. we found him, when we went to search forhim, face downward in a little green-

scummed pool, which lay at the foot of thegarden. there was no sign of any violence, and thewater was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his knowneccentricity, brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' but i, who knew how he winced from the verythought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way tomeet it. the matter passed, however, and my fatherentered into possession of the estate, and of some 14,000 pounds, which lay to hiscredit at the bank." "one moment," holmes interposed, "yourstatement is, i foresee, one of the most

remarkable to which i have ever listened. let me have the date of the reception byyour uncle of the letter, and the date of his supposed suicide.""the letter arrived on march 10, 1883. his death was seven weeks later, upon thenight of may 2nd." "thank you.pray proceed." "when my father took over the horshamproperty, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had beenalways locked up. we found the brass box there, although itscontents had been destroyed. on the inside of the cover was a paperlabel, with the initials of k. k. k.

repeated upon it, and 'letters, memoranda,receipts, and a register' written beneath. these, we presume, indicated the nature ofthe papers which had been destroyed by colonel openshaw. for the rest, there was nothing of muchimportance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearingupon my uncle's life in america. some of them were of the war time andshowed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. others were of a date during thereconstruction of the southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for hehad evidently taken a strong part in

opposing the carpet-bag politicians who hadbeen sent down from the north. "well, it was the beginning of '84 when myfather came to live at horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until thejanuary of '85. on the fourth day after the new year iheard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at thebreakfast-table. there he was, sitting with a newly openedenvelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the otherone. he had always laughed at what he called mycock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now thatthe same thing had come upon himself.

"'why, what on earth does this mean, john?'he stammered. "my heart had turned to lead.'it is k. k. k.,' said i. "he looked inside the envelope. 'so it is,' he cried.'here are the very letters. but what is this written above them?'"'put the papers on the sundial,' i read, peeping over his shoulder. "'what papers?what sundial?' he asked. "'the sundial in the garden.there is no other,' said i; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.'

"'pooh!' said he, gripping hard at hiscourage. 'we are in a civilised land here, and wecan't have tomfoolery of this kind. where does the thing come from?' "'from dundee,' i answered, glancing at thepostmark. "'some preposterous practical joke,' saidhe. 'what have i to do with sundials andpapers? i shall take no notice of such nonsense.'"'i should certainly speak to the police,' i said. "'and be laughed at for my pains.nothing of the sort.'

"'then let me do so?'"'no, i forbid you. i won't have a fuss made about suchnonsense.' "it was in vain to argue with him, for hewas a very obstinate man. i went about, however, with a heart whichwas full of forebodings. "on the third day after the coming of theletter my father went from home to visit an old friend of his, major freebody, who isin command of one of the forts upon portsdown hill. i was glad that he should go, for it seemedto me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home.in that, however, i was in error.

upon the second day of his absence ireceived a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. my father had fallen over one of the deepchalk-pits which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless,with a shattered skull. i hurried to him, but he passed awaywithout having ever recovered his consciousness. he had, as it appears, been returning fromfareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pitunfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death fromaccidental causes.'

carefully as i examined every factconnected with his death, i was unable to find anything which could suggest the ideaof murder. there were no signs of violence, nofootmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. and yet i need not tell you that my mindwas far from at ease, and that i was well- nigh certain that some foul plot had beenwoven round him. "in this sinister way i came into myinheritance. you will ask me why i did not dispose ofit? i answer, because i was well convinced thatour troubles were in some way dependent

upon an incident in my uncle's life, andthat the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another. "it was in january, '85, that my poorfather met his end, and two years and eight months have elapsed since then. during that time i have lived happily athorsham, and i had begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family, andthat it had ended with the last generation. i had begun to take comfort too soon,however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon myfather." the young man took from his waistcoat acrumpled envelope, and turning to the table

he shook out upon it five little driedorange pips. "this is the envelope," he continued. "the postmark is london--eastern division.within are the very words which were upon my father's last message: 'k. k. k.'; andthen 'put the papers on the sundial.'" "what have you done?" asked holmes. "nothing.""nothing?" "to tell the truth"--he sank his face intohis thin, white hands--"i have felt helpless. i have felt like one of those poor rabbitswhen the snake is writhing towards it.

i seem to be in the grasp of someresistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guardagainst." "tut! tut!" cried sherlock holmes. "you must act, man, or you are lost.nothing but energy can save you. this is no time for despair.""i have seen the police." "ah!" "but they listened to my story with asmile. i am convinced that the inspector hasformed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes, and that the deaths of myrelations were really accidents, as the

jury stated, and were not to be connectedwith the warnings." holmes shook his clenched hands in the air."incredible imbecility!" he cried. "they have, however, allowed me apoliceman, who may remain in the house with me.""has he come with you to-night?" "no. his orders were to stay in the house." again holmes raved in the air."why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at once?""i did not know. it was only to-day that i spoke to majorprendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you.""it is really two days since you had the

letter. we should have acted before this.you have no further evidence, i suppose, than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?" "there is one thing," said john openshaw. he rummaged in his coat pocket, and,drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue- tinted paper, he laid it out upon thetable. "i have some remembrance," said he, "thaton the day when my uncle burned the papers i observed that the small, unburned marginswhich lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour.

i found this single sheet upon the floor ofhis room, and i am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has,perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escapeddestruction. beyond the mention of pips, i do not seethat it helps us much. i think myself that it is a page from someprivate diary. the writing is undoubtedly my uncle's." holmes moved the lamp, and we both bentover the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed beentorn from a book. it was headed, "march, 1869," and beneathwere the following enigmatical notices:

"4th.hudson came. same old platform. "7th.set the pips on mccauley, paramore, and john swain, of st. augustine."9th. mccauley cleared. "10th.john swain cleared. "12th.visited paramore. all well." "thank you!" said holmes, folding up thepaper and returning it to our visitor.

"and now you must on no account loseanother instant. we cannot spare time even to discuss whatyou have told me. you must get home instantly and act.""what shall i do?" "there is but one thing to do. it must be done at once.you must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which youhave described. you must also put in a note to say that allthe other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one whichremains. you must assert that in such words as willcarry conviction with them.

having done this, you must at once put thebox out upon the sundial, as directed. do you understand?" "entirely.""do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. i think that we may gain that by means ofthe law; but we have our web to weave, while theirs is already woven.the first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. the second is to clear up the mystery andto punish the guilty parties." "i thank you," said the young man, risingand pulling on his overcoat.

"you have given me fresh life and hope. i shall certainly do as you advise.""do not lose an instant. and, above all, take care of yourself inthe meanwhile, for i do not think that there can be a doubt that you arethreatened by a very real and imminent danger. how do you go back?""by train from waterloo." "it is not yet nine.the streets will be crowded, so i trust that you may be in safety. and yet you cannot guard yourself tooclosely."

"i am armed.""that is well. to-morrow i shall set to work upon yourcase." "i shall see you at horsham, then?""no, your secret lies in london. it is there that i shall seek it." "then i shall call upon you in a day, or intwo days, with news as to the box and the papers.i shall take your advice in every particular." he shook hands with us and took his leave.outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against thewindows.

this strange, wild story seemed to havecome to us from amid the mad elements-- blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weedin a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more. sherlock holmes sat for some time insilence, with his head sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. then he lit his pipe, and leaning back inhis chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to theceiling. "i think, watson," he remarked at last,"that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this.""save, perhaps, the sign of four."

"well, yes. save, perhaps, that.and yet this john openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils thandid the sholtos." "but have you," i asked, "formed anydefinite conception as to what these perils are?""there can be no question as to their nature," he answered. "then what are they?who is this k. k. k., and why does he pursue this unhappy family?" sherlock holmes closed his eyes and placedhis elbows upon the arms of his chair, with

his finger-tips together. "the ideal reasoner," he remarked, "would,when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it notonly all the chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which wouldfollow from it. as cuvier could correctly describe a wholeanimal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughlyunderstood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before andafter. we have not yet grasped the results whichthe reason alone can attain to.

problems may be solved in the study whichhave baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. to carry the art, however, to its highestpitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the factswhich have come to his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, evenin these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rareaccomplishment. it is not so impossible, however, that aman should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work, andthis i have endeavoured in my case to do.

if i remember rightly, you on one occasion,in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precisefashion." "yes," i answered, laughing. "it was a singular document.philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, i remember. botany variable, geology profound asregards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistryeccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman,lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and

tobacco.those, i think, were the main points of my analysis." holmes grinned at the last item. "well," he said, "i say now, as i saidthen, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all the furniturethat he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wantsit. now, for such a case as the one which hasbeen submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources.

kindly hand me down the letter k of the'american encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you.thank you. now let us consider the situation and seewhat may be deduced from it. in the first place, we may start with astrong presumption that colonel openshaw had some very strong reason for leavingamerica. men at his time of life do not change alltheir habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of florida for the lonelylife of an english provincial town. his extreme love of solitude in englandsuggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as aworking hypothesis that it was fear of

someone or something which drove him fromamerica. as to what it was he feared, we can onlydeduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself andhis successors. did you remark the postmarks of thoseletters?" "the first was from pondicherry, the secondfrom dundee, and the third from london." "from east london. what do you deduce from that?""they are all seaports. that the writer was on board of a ship.""excellent. we have already a clue.

there can be no doubt that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board of a ship.and now let us consider another point. in the case of pondicherry, seven weekselapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in dundee it was only somethree or four days. does that suggest anything?" "a greater distance to travel.""but the letter had also a greater distance to come.""then i do not see the point." "there is at least a presumption that thevessel in which the man or men are is a sailing-ship.

it looks as if they always send theirsingular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission.you see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from dundee. if they had come from pondicherry in asteamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter.but, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. i think that those seven weeks representedthe difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vesselwhich brought the writer." "it is possible."

"more than that.it is probable. and now you see the deadly urgency of thisnew case, and why i urged young openshaw to caution. the blow has always fallen at the end ofthe time which it would take the senders to travel the distance.but this one comes from london, and therefore we cannot count upon delay." "good god!"i cried. "what can it mean, this relentlesspersecution?" "the papers which openshaw carried areobviously of vital importance to the person

or persons in the sailing-ship.i think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. a single man could not have carried out twodeaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. there must have been several in it, andthey must have been men of resource and determination.their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. in this way you see k. k. k. ceases to bethe initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society.""but of what society?"

"have you never--" said sherlock holmes,bending forward and sinking his voice-- "have you never heard of the ku klux klan?""i never have." holmes turned over the leaves of the bookupon his knee. "here it is," said he presently:"'ku klux klan. a name derived from the fancifulresemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. this terrible secret society was formed bysome ex-confederate soldiers in the southern states after the civil war, and itrapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in tennessee,

louisiana, the carolinas, georgia, andflorida. its power was used for political purposes,principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and drivingfrom the country of those who were opposed to its views. its outrages were usually preceded by awarning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognised shape--asprig of oak-leaves in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. on receiving this the victim might eitheropenly abjure his former ways, or might fly from the country.

if he braved the matter out, death wouldunfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. so perfect was the organisation of thesociety, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a case upon recordwhere any man succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrageswere traced home to the perpetrators. for some years the organisation flourishedin spite of the efforts of the united states government and of the better classesof the community in the south. eventually, in the year 1869, the movementrather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the samesort since that date.'

"you will observe," said holmes, layingdown the volume, "that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with thedisappearance of openshaw from america with their papers. it may well have been cause and effect.it is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upontheir track. you can understand that this register anddiary may implicate some of the first men in the south, and that there may be manywho will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered." "then the page we have seen--""is such as we might expect.

it ran, if i remember right, 'sent the pipsto a, b, and c'--that is, sent the society's warning to them. then there are successive entries that aand b cleared, or left the country, and finally that c was visited, with, i fear, asinister result for c. well, i think, doctor, that we may let somelight into this dark place, and i believe that the only chance young openshaw has inthe meantime is to do what i have told him. there is nothing more to be said or to bedone to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hourthe miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow-men."

it had cleared in the morning, and the sunwas shining with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over thegreat city. sherlock holmes was already at breakfastwhen i came down. "you will excuse me for not waiting foryou," said he; "i have, i foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into thiscase of young openshaw's." "what steps will you take?" i asked."it will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries.i may have to go down to horsham, after all."

"you will not go there first?""no, i shall commence with the city. just ring the bell and the maid will bringup your coffee." as i waited, i lifted the unopenednewspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it.it rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart. "holmes," i cried, "you are too late.""ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "i feared as much.how was it done?" he spoke calmly, but i could see that hewas deeply moved. "my eye caught the name of openshaw, andthe heading 'tragedy near waterloo bridge.'

here is the account: "between nine and ten last night police-constable cook, of the h division, on duty near waterloo bridge, heard a cry for helpand a splash in the water. the night, however, was extremely dark andstormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was quite impossibleto effect a rescue. the alarm, however, was given, and, by theaid of the water-police, the body was eventually recovered. it proved to be that of a young gentlemanwhose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was johnopenshaw, and whose residence is near

it is conjectured that he may have beenhurrying down to catch the last train from waterloo station, and that in his haste andthe extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of the smalllanding-places for river steamboats. the body exhibited no traces of violence,and there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunateaccident, which should have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages." we sat in silence for some minutes, holmesmore depressed and shaken than i had ever seen him.

"that hurts my pride, watson," he said atlast. "it is a petty feeling, no doubt, but ithurts my pride. it becomes a personal matter with me now,and, if god sends me health, i shall set my hand upon this gang. that he should come to me for help, andthat i should send him away to his death-- !" he sprang from his chair and paced aboutthe room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and anervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands.

"they must be cunning devils," he exclaimedat last. "how could they have decoyed him downthere? the embankment is not on the direct line tothe station. the bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, evenon such a night, for their purpose. well, watson, we shall see who will win inthe long run. i am going out now!""to the police?" "no; i shall be my own police. when i have spun the web they may take theflies, but not before." all day i was engaged in my professionalwork, and it was late in the evening before

i returned to baker street. sherlock holmes had not come back yet.it was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale and worn. he walked up to the sideboard, and tearinga piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a longdraught of water. "you are hungry," i remarked. "starving.it had escaped my memory. i have had nothing since breakfast.""nothing?" "not a bite.

i had no time to think of it.""and how have you succeeded?" "well.""you have a clue?" "i have them in the hollow of my hand. young openshaw shall not long remainunavenged. why, watson, let us put their own devilishtrade-mark upon them. it is well thought of!" "what do you mean?"he took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he squeezed out thepips upon the table. of these he took five and thrust them intoan envelope.

on the inside of the flap he wrote "s. h.for j. o." then he sealed it and addressed it to"captain james calhoun, barque 'lone star,' savannah, georgia.""that will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling. "it may give him a sleepless night.he will find it as sure a precursor of his fate as openshaw did before him.""and who is this captain calhoun?" "the leader of the gang. i shall have the others, but he first.""how did you trace it, then?" he took a large sheet of paper from hispocket, all covered with dates and names.

"i have spent the whole day," said he,"over lloyd's registers and files of the old papers, following the future career ofevery vessel which touched at pondicherry in january and february in '83. there were thirty-six ships of fair tonnagewhich were reported there during those months. of these, one, the 'lone star,' instantlyattracted my attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from london,the name is that which is given to one of the states of the union." "texas, i think.""i was not and am not sure which; but i

knew that the ship must have an americanorigin." "what then?" "i searched the dundee records, and when ifound that the barque 'lone star' was there in january, '85, my suspicion became acertainty. i then inquired as to the vessels which layat present in the port of london." "yes?""the 'lone star' had arrived here last week. i went down to the albert dock and foundthat she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning, homeward boundto savannah.

i wired to gravesend and learned that shehad passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly i have no doubt that she is nowpast the goodwins and not very far from the isle of wight." "what will you do, then?""oh, i have my hand upon him. he and the two mates, are as i learn, theonly native-born americans in the ship. the others are finns and germans. i know, also, that they were all three awayfrom the ship last night. i had it from the stevedore who has beenloading their cargo. by the time that their sailing-ship reachessavannah the mail-boat will have carried

this letter, and the cable will haveinformed the police of savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upona charge of murder." there is ever a flaw, however, in the bestlaid of human plans, and the murderers of john openshaw were never to receive theorange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute asthemselves, was upon their track. very long and very severe were theequinoctial gales that year. we waited long for news of the "lone star"of savannah, but none ever reached us. we did at last hear that somewhere far outin the atlantic a shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of awave, with the letters "l. s." carved upon

it, and that is all which we shall everknow of the fate of the "lone star." > adventure vi.the man with the twisted lip isa whitney, brother of the late eliaswhitney, d.d., principal of the theological college of st. george's, was much addictedto opium. the habit grew upon him, as i understand,from some foolish freak when he was at college; for having read de quincey'sdescription of his dreams and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanumin an attempt to produce the same effects. he found, as so many more have done, thatthe practice is easier to attain than to

get rid of, and for many years he continuedto be a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror and pity to his friends andrelatives. i can see him now, with yellow, pasty face,drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of anoble man. one night--it was in june, '89--there camea ring to my bell, about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at theclock. i sat up in my chair, and my wife laid herneedle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment."a patient!" said she. "you'll have to go out."

i groaned, for i was newly come back from aweary day. we heard the door open, a few hurriedwords, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. our own door flew open, and a lady, clad insome dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. "you will excuse my calling so late," shebegan, and then, suddenly losing her self- control, she ran forward, threw her armsabout my wife's neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. "oh, i'm in such trouble!" she cried; "i doso want a little help."

"why," said my wife, pulling up her veil,"it is kate whitney. how you startled me, kate! i had not an idea who you were when youcame in." "i didn't know what to do, so i camestraight to you." that was always the way. folk who were in grief came to my wife likebirds to a light-house. "it was very sweet of you to come. now, you must have some wine and water, andsit here comfortably and tell us all about it.or should you rather that i sent james off

to bed?" "oh, no, no!i want the doctor's advice and help, too. it's about isa.he has not been home for two days. i am so frightened about him!" it was not the first time that she hadspoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friendand school companion. we soothed and comforted her by such wordsas we could find. did she know where her husband was?was it possible that we could bring him back to her?

it seems that it was.she had the surest information that of late he had, when the fit was on him, made useof an opium den in the farthest east of the city. hitherto his orgies had always beenconfined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. but now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks,breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects. there he was to be found, she was sure ofit, at the bar of gold, in upper swandam

lane.but what was she to do? how could she, a young and timid woman,make her way into such a place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians whosurrounded him? there was the case, and of course there wasbut one way out of it. might i not escort her to this place?and then, as a second thought, why should she come at all? i was isa whitney's medical adviser, and assuch i had influence over him. i could manage it better if i were alone. i promised her on my word that i would sendhim home in a cab within two hours if he

were indeed at the address which she hadgiven me. and so in ten minutes i had left myarmchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on astrange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only could show howstrange it was to be. but there was no great difficulty in thefirst stage of my adventure. upper swandam lane is a vile alley lurkingbehind the high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east oflondon bridge. between a slop-shop and a gin-shop,approached by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouthof a cave, i found the den of which i was

in search. ordering my cab to wait, i passed down thesteps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by thelight of a flickering oil-lamp above the door i found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with thebrown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrantship. through the gloom one could dimly catch aglimpse of bodies lying in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bentknees, heads thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a

dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon thenewcomer. out of the black shadows there glimmeredlittle red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed orwaned in the bowls of the metal pipes. the most lay silent, but some muttered tothemselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, monotonous voice, theirconversation coming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own thoughts and payinglittle heed to the words of his neighbour. at the farther end was a small brazier ofburning charcoal, beside which on a three- legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thinold man, with his jaw resting upon his two

fists, and his elbows upon his knees,staring into the fire. as i entered, a sallow malay attendant hadhurried up with a pipe for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an emptyberth. "thank you. i have not come to stay," said i."there is a friend of mine here, mr. isa whitney, and i wish to speak with him." there was a movement and an exclamationfrom my right, and peering through the gloom, i saw whitney, pale, haggard, andunkempt, staring out at me. "my god!

it's watson," said he.he was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter."i say, watson, what o'clock is it?" "nearly eleven." "of what day?""of friday, june 19th." "good heavens!i thought it was wednesday. it is wednesday. what d'you want to frighten a chap for?"he sank his face onto his arms and began to sob in a high treble key."i tell you that it is friday, man. your wife has been waiting this two daysfor you.

you should be ashamed of yourself!""so i am. but you've got mixed, watson, for i haveonly been here a few hours, three pipes, four pipes--i forget how many.but i'll go home with you. i wouldn't frighten kate--poor little kate. give me your hand!have you a cab?" "yes, i have one waiting.""then i shall go in it. but i must owe something. find what i owe, watson.i am all off colour. i can do nothing for myself."

i walked down the narrow passage betweenthe double row of sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefyingfumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. as i passed the tall man who sat by thebrazier i felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice whispered, "walk past me,and then look back at me." the words fell quite distinctly upon myear. i glanced down. they could only have come from the old manat my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bentwith age, an opium pipe dangling down from

between his knees, as though it had droppedin sheer lassitude from his fingers. i took two steps forward and looked back. it took all my self-control to prevent mefrom breaking out into a cry of astonishment.he had turned his back so that none could see him but i. his form had filled out, his wrinkles weregone, the dull eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire andgrinning at my surprise, was none other than sherlock holmes. he made a slight motion to me to approachhim, and instantly, as he turned his face

half round to the company once more,subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. "holmes!"i whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?""as low as you can," he answered; "i have excellent ears. if you would have the great kindness to getrid of that sottish friend of yours i should be exceedingly glad to have a littletalk with you." "i have a cab outside." "then pray send him home in it.you may safely trust him, for he appears to

be too limp to get into any mischief. i should recommend you also to send a noteby the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in your lot with me.if you will wait outside, i shall be with you in five minutes." it was difficult to refuse any of sherlockholmes' requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward withsuch a quiet air of mastery. i felt, however, that when whitney was onceconfined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest,i could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those

singular adventures which were the normalcondition of his existence. in a few minutes i had written my note,paid whitney's bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through thedarkness. in a very short time a decrepit figure hademerged from the opium den, and i was walking down the street with sherlockholmes. for two streets he shuffled along with abent back and an uncertain foot. then, glancing quickly round, hestraightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "i suppose, watson," said he, "that youimagine that i have added opium-smoking to

cocaine injections, and all the otherlittle weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views." "i was certainly surprised to find youthere." "but not more so than i to find you.""i came to find a friend." "and i to find an enemy." "an enemy?""yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall i say, my natural prey. briefly, watson, i am in the midst of avery remarkable inquiry, and i have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblingsof these sots, as i have done before now.

had i been recognised in that den my lifewould not have been worth an hour's purchase; for i have used it before now formy own purposes, and the rascally lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeanceupon me. there is a trap-door at the back of thatbuilding, near the corner of paul's wharf, which could tell some strange tales of whathas passed through it upon the moonless nights." "what!you do not mean bodies?" "ay, bodies, watson. we should be rich men if we had 1000 poundsfor every poor devil who has been done to

death in that den. it is the vilest murder-trap on the wholeriverside, and i fear that neville st. clair has entered it never to leave itmore. but our trap should be here." he put his two forefingers between histeeth and whistled shrilly--a signal which was answered by a similar whistle from thedistance, followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs. "now, watson," said holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light fromits side lanterns.

"you'll come with me, won't you?" "if i can be of use.""oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so.my room at the cedars is a double-bedded one." "the cedars?""yes; that is mr. st. clair's house. i am staying there while i conduct theinquiry." "where is it, then?" "near lee, in kent.we have a seven-mile drive before us." "but i am all in the dark.""of course you are.

you'll know all about it presently. jump up here.all right, john; we shall not need you. here's half a crown.look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. give her her head. so long, then!" he flicked the horse with his whip, and wedashed away through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, whichwidened gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with themurky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. beyond lay another dull wilderness ofbricks and mortar, its silence broken only

by the heavy, regular footfall of thepoliceman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revellers. a dull wrack was drifting slowly across thesky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds. holmes drove in silence, with his head sunkupon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while i sat beside him,curious to learn what this new quest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in upon thecurrent of his thoughts. we had driven several miles, and werebeginning to get to the fringe of the belt

of suburban villas, when he shook himself,shrugged his shoulders, and lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfiedhimself that he is acting for the best. "you have a grand gift of silence, watson,"said he. "it makes you quite invaluable as acompanion. 'pon my word, it is a great thing for me tohave someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant. i was wondering what i should say to thisdear little woman to-night when she meets me at the door.""you forget that i know nothing about it." "i shall just have time to tell you thefacts of the case before we get to lee.

it seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehowi can get nothing to go upon. there's plenty of thread, no doubt, but ican't get the end of it into my hand. now, i'll state the case clearly andconcisely to you, watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me." "proceed, then.""some years ago--to be definite, in may, 1884--there came to lee a gentleman,neville st. clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money. he took a large villa, laid out the groundsvery nicely, and lived generally in good style.

by degrees he made friends in theneighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, by whom he nowhas two children. he had no occupation, but was interested inseveral companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14from cannon street every night. mr. st. clair is now thirty-seven years ofage, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and aman who is popular with all who know him. i may add that his whole debts at thepresent moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to 88 pounds 10s.,while he has 220 pounds standing to his credit in the capital and counties bank.

there is no reason, therefore, to thinkthat money troubles have been weighing upon his mind. "last monday mr. neville st. clair wentinto town rather earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had twoimportant commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box ofbricks. now, by the merest chance, his wifereceived a telegram upon this same monday, very shortly after his departure, to theeffect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of theaberdeen shipping company.

now, if you are well up in your london, youwill know that the office of the company is in fresno street, which branches out ofupper swandam lane, where you found me to- night. mrs. st. clair had her lunch, started forthe city, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's office, got her packet, andfound herself at exactly 4:35 walking through swandam lane on her way back to thestation. have you followed me so far?""it is very clear." "if you remember, monday was an exceedinglyhot day, and mrs. st. clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab,as she did not like the neighbourhood in

which she found herself. while she was walking in this way downswandam lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold tosee her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from asecond-floor window. the window was open, and she distinctly sawhis face, which she describes as being terribly agitated. he waved his hands frantically to her, andthen vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had beenplucked back by some irresistible force from behind.

one singular point which struck her quickfeminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to townin, he had on neither collar nor necktie. "convinced that something was amiss withhim, she rushed down the steps--for the house was none other than the opium den inwhich you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the firstfloor. at the foot of the stairs, however, she metthis lascar scoundrel of whom i have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by adane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street.

filled with the most maddening doubts andfears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in fresno street anumber of constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. the inspector and two men accompanied herback, and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they madetheir way to the room in which mr. st. clair had last been seen. there was no sign of him there.in fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a crippledwretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there.

both he and the lascar stoutly swore thatno one else had been in the front room during the afternoon. so determined was their denial that theinspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that mrs. st. clair hadbeen deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon thetable and tore the lid from it. out there fell a cascade of children'sbricks. it was the toy which he had promised tobring home. "this discovery, and the evident confusionwhich the cripple showed, made the inspector realise that the matter wasserious.

the rooms were carefully examined, andresults all pointed to an abominable crime. the front room was plainly furnished as asitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one ofthe wharves. between the wharf and the bedroom window isa narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at leastfour and a half feet of water. the bedroom window was a broad one andopened from below. on examination traces of blood were to beseen upon the windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon thewooden floor of the bedroom. thrust away behind a curtain in the frontroom were all the clothes of mr. neville

st. clair, with the exception of his coat.his boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch--all were there. there were no signs of violence upon any ofthese garments, and there were no other traces of mr. neville st. clair. out of the window he must apparently havegone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sillgave little promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of thetragedy. "and now as to the villains who seemed tobe immediately implicated in the matter.

the lascar was known to be a man of thevilest antecedents, but as, by mrs. st. clair's story, he was known to have been atthe foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more thanan accessory to the crime. his defence was one of absolute ignorance,and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of hugh boone, his lodger,and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman'sclothes. "so much for the lascar manager. now for the sinister cripple who lives uponthe second floor of the opium den, and who

was certainly the last human being whoseeyes rested upon neville st. clair. his name is hugh boone, and his hideousface is one which is familiar to every man who goes much to the city. he is a professional beggar, though inorder to avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. some little distance down threadneedlestreet, upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle inthe wall. here it is that this creature takes hisdaily seat, cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is apiteous spectacle a small rain of charity

descends into the greasy leather cap whichlies upon the pavement beside him. i have watched the fellow more than oncebefore ever i thought of making his professional acquaintance, and i have beensurprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. his appearance, you see, is so remarkablethat no one can pass him without observing a shock of orange hair, a pale facedisfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outeredge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colourof his hair, all mark him out from amid the

common crowd of mendicants and so, too,does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may bethrown at him by the passers-by. this is the man whom we now learn to havebeen the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentlemanof whom we are in quest." "but a cripple!" said i. "what could he have done single-handedagainst a man in the prime of life?" "he is a cripple in the sense that he walkswith a limp; but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurturedman. surely your medical experience would tellyou, watson, that weakness in one limb is

often compensated for by exceptionalstrength in the others." "pray continue your narrative." "mrs. st. clair had fainted at the sight ofthe blood upon the window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, asher presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. inspector barton, who had charge of thecase, made a very careful examination of the premises, but without finding anythingwhich threw any light upon the matter. one mistake had been made in not arrestingboone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes during which he might havecommunicated with his friend the lascar,

but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and searched, without anythingbeing found which could incriminate him. there were, it is true, some blood-stainsupon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been cut nearthe nail, and explained that the bleeding came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that thestains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same source. he denied strenuously having ever seen mr.neville st. clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was asmuch a mystery to him as to the police.

as to mrs. st. clair's assertion that shehad actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she must have beeneither mad or dreaming. he was removed, loudly protesting, to thepolice-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in the hope thatthe ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. "and it did, though they hardly found uponthe mud-bank what they had feared to find. it was neville st. clair's coat, and notneville st. clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. and what do you think they found in thepockets?"

"i cannot imagine.""no, i don't think you would guess. every pocket stuffed with pennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. it was no wonder that it had not been sweptaway by the tide. but a human body is a different matter. there is a fierce eddy between the wharfand the house. it seemed likely enough that the weightedcoat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river." "but i understand that all the otherclothes were found in the room. would the body be dressed in a coat alone?""no, sir, but the facts might be met

speciously enough. suppose that this man boone had thrustneville st. clair through the window, there is no human eye which could have seen thedeed. what would he do then? it would of course instantly strike himthat he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. he would seize the coat, then, and be inthe act of throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and notsink. he has little time, for he has heard thescuffle downstairs when the wife tried to

force her way up, and perhaps he hasalready heard from his lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. there is not an instant to be lost. he rushes to some secret hoard, where hehas accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all the coins upon which hecan lay his hands into the pockets to make sure of the coat's sinking. he throws it out, and would have done thesame with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and onlyjust had time to close the window when the police appeared."

"it certainly sounds feasible.""well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. boone, as i have told you, was arrested andtaken to the station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before beenanything against him. he had for years been known as aprofessional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. there the matter stands at present, and thequestions which have to be solved--what neville st. clair was doing in the opiumden, what happened to him when there, where is he now, and what hugh boone had to do

with his disappearance--are all as far froma solution as ever. i confess that i cannot recall any casewithin my experience which looked at the first glance so simple and yet whichpresented such difficulties." while sherlock holmes had been detailingthis singular series of events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the greattown until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along witha country hedge upon either side of us. just as he finished, however, we drovethrough two scattered villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. "we are on the outskirts of lee," said mycompanion.

"we have touched on three english countiesin our short drive, starting in middlesex, passing over an angle of surrey, and endingin kent. see that light among the trees? that is the cedars, and beside that lampsits a woman whose anxious ears have already, i have little doubt, caught theclink of our horse's feet." "but why are you not conducting the casefrom baker street?" i asked."because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. mrs. st. clair has most kindly put tworooms at my disposal, and you may rest

assured that she will have nothing but awelcome for my friend and colleague. i hate to meet her, watson, when i have nonews of her husband. here we are.whoa, there, whoa!" we had pulled up in front of a large villawhich stood within its own grounds. a stable-boy had run out to the horse'shead, and springing down, i followed holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive whichled to the house. as we approached, the door flew open, and alittle blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline desoie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists.

she stood with her figure outlined againstthe flood of light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her bodyslightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standingquestion. "well?" she cried, "well?" and then, seeing that there were two of us,she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my companion shookhis head and shrugged his shoulders. "no good news?" "none.""no bad?" "no.""thank god for that.

but come in. you must be weary, for you have had a longday." "this is my friend, dr. watson. he has been of most vital use to me inseveral of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to bring him outand associate him with this investigation." "i am delighted to see you," said she,pressing my hand warmly. "you will, i am sure, forgive anything thatmay be wanting in our arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come sosuddenly upon us." "my dear madam," said i, "i am an oldcampaigner, and if i were not i can very

well see that no apology is needed. if i can be of any assistance, either toyou or to my friend here, i shall be indeed happy." "now, mr. sherlock holmes," said the ladyas we entered a well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had beenlaid out, "i should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which ibeg that you will give a plain answer." "certainly, madam.""do not trouble about my feelings. i am not hysterical, nor given to fainting. i simply wish to hear your real, realopinion."

"upon what point?""in your heart of hearts, do you think that neville is alive?" sherlock holmes seemed to be embarrassed bythe question. "frankly, now!" she repeated, standing uponthe rug and looking keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. "frankly, then, madam, i do not.""you think that he is dead?" "i do.""murdered?" "i don't say that. perhaps.""and on what day did he meet his death?"

"on monday." "then perhaps, mr. holmes, you will be goodenough to explain how it is that i have received a letter from him to-day."sherlock holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised. "what!" he roared."yes, to-day." she stood smiling, holding up a little slipof paper in the air. "may i see it?" "certainly."he snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the table he drewover the lamp and examined it intently.

i had left my chair and was gazing at itover his shoulder. the envelope was a very coarse one and wasstamped with the gravesend postmark and with the date of that very day, or ratherof the day before, for it was considerably after midnight. "coarse writing," murmured holmes."surely this is not your husband's writing, madam.""no, but the enclosure is." "i perceive also that whoever addressed theenvelope had to go and inquire as to the address.""how can you tell that?" "the name, you see, is in perfectly blackink, which has dried itself.

the rest is of the greyish colour, whichshows that blotting-paper has been used. if it had been written straight off, andthen blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. this man has written the name, and therehas then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean that he wasnot familiar with it. it is, of course, a trifle, but there isnothing so important as trifles. let us now see the letter.ha! there has been an enclosure here!" "yes, there was a ring. his signet-ring.""and you are sure that this is your

husband's hand?""one of his hands." "one?" "his hand when he wrote hurriedly.it is very unlike his usual writing, and yet i know it well.""'dearest do not be frightened. all will come well. there is a huge error which it may takesome little time to rectify. wait in patience.--neville.'written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. hum!posted to-day in gravesend by a man with a

dirty thumb.ha! and the flap has been gummed, if i am notvery much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco.and you have no doubt that it is your husband's hand, madam?" "none.neville wrote those words." "and they were posted to-day at gravesend. well, mrs. st. clair, the clouds lighten,though i should not venture to say that the danger is over.""but he must be alive, mr. holmes." "unless this is a clever forgery to put uson the wrong scent.

the ring, after all, proves nothing.it may have been taken from him." "no, no; it is, it is his very ownwriting!" "very well.it may, however, have been written on monday and only posted to-day." "that is possible.""if so, much may have happened between." "oh, you must not discourage me, mr.holmes. i know that all is well with him. there is so keen a sympathy between us thati should know if evil came upon him. on the very day that i saw him last he cuthimself in the bedroom, and yet i in the

dining-room rushed upstairs instantly withthe utmost certainty that something had happened. do you think that i would respond to such atrifle and yet be ignorant of his death?" "i have seen too much not to know that theimpression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analyticalreasoner. and in this letter you certainly have avery strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. but if your husband is alive and able towrite letters, why should he remain away from you?""i cannot imagine.

it is unthinkable." "and on monday he made no remarks beforeleaving you?" "no.""and you were surprised to see him in swandam lane?" "very much so.""was the window open?" "yes.""then he might have called to you?" "he might." "he only, as i understand, gave aninarticulate cry?" "yes.""a call for help, you thought?"

"yes. he waved his hands." "but it might have been a cry of surprise.astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?""it is possible." "and you thought he was pulled back?" "he disappeared so suddenly.""he might have leaped back. you did not see anyone else in the room?" "no, but this horrible man confessed tohaving been there, and the lascar was at the foot of the stairs.""quite so. your husband, as far as you could see, hadhis ordinary clothes on?"

"but without his collar or tie.i distinctly saw his bare throat." "had he ever spoken of swandam lane?" "never.""had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?""never." "thank you, mrs. st. clair. those are the principal points about whichi wished to be absolutely clear. we shall now have a little supper and thenretire, for we may have a very busy day to- morrow." a large and comfortable double-bedded roomhad been placed at our disposal, and i was

quickly between the sheets, for i was wearyafter my night of adventure. sherlock holmes was a man, however, who,when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for aweek, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had eitherfathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient.it was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. he took off his coat and waistcoat, put ona large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about the room collecting pillowsfrom his bed and cushions from the sofa and

armchairs. with these he constructed a sort of easterndivan, upon which he perched himself cross- legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and abox of matches laid out in front of him. in the dim light of the lamp i saw himsitting there, an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon thecorner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-setaquiline features. so he sat as i dropped off to sleep, and sohe sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and i found the summer sunshining into the apartment.

the pipe was still between his lips, thesmoke still curled upward, and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothingremained of the heap of shag which i had seen upon the previous night. "awake, watson?" he asked."yes." "game for a morning drive?""certainly." "then dress. no one is stirring yet, but i know wherethe stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out." he chuckled to himself as he spoke, hiseyes twinkled, and he seemed a different

man to the sombre thinker of the previousnight. as i dressed i glanced at my watch. it was no wonder that no one was stirring.it was twenty-five minutes past four. i had hardly finished when holmes returnedwith the news that the boy was putting in the horse. "i want to test a little theory of mine,"said he, pulling on his boots. "i think, watson, that you are now standingin the presence of one of the most absolute fools in europe. i deserve to be kicked from here to charingcross.

but i think i have the key of the affairnow." "and where is it?" i asked, smiling."in the bathroom," he answered. "oh, yes, i am not joking," he continued,seeing my look of incredulity. "i have just been there, and i have takenit out, and i have got it in this gladstone bag.come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock." we made our way downstairs as quietly aspossible, and out into the bright morning sunshine.

in the road stood our horse and trap, withthe half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head.we both sprang in, and away we dashed down the london road. a few country carts were stirring, bearingin vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side were assilent and lifeless as some city in a dream. "it has been in some points a singularcase," said holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop. "i confess that i have been as blind as amole, but it is better to learn wisdom late

than never to learn it at all." in town the earliest risers were justbeginning to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets ofthe surrey side. passing down the waterloo bridge road wecrossed over the river, and dashing up wellington street wheeled sharply to theright and found ourselves in bow street. sherlock holmes was well known to theforce, and the two constables at the door saluted him.one of them held the horse's head while the other led us in. "who is on duty?" asked holmes."inspector bradstreet, sir."

"ah, bradstreet, how are you?" a tall, stout official had come down thestone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket."i wish to have a quiet word with you, bradstreet." "certainly, mr. holmes.step into my room here." it was a small, office-like room, with ahuge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. the inspector sat down at his desk."what can i do for you, mr. holmes?" "i called about that beggarman, boone--theone who was charged with being concerned in

the disappearance of mr. neville st. clair,of lee." "yes. he was brought up and remanded forfurther inquiries." "so i heard.you have him here?" "in the cells." "is he quiet?""oh, he gives no trouble. but he is a dirty scoundrel.""dirty?" "yes, it is all we can do to make him washhis hands, and his face is as black as a tinker's. well, when once his case has been settled,he will have a regular prison bath; and i

think, if you saw him, you would agree withme that he needed it." "i should like to see him very much." "would you?that is easily done. come this way.you can leave your bag." "no, i think that i'll take it." "very good.come this way, if you please." he led us down a passage, opened a barreddoor, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with aline of doors on each side. "the third on the right is his," said theinspector.

"here it is!"he quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through. "he is asleep," said he."you can see him very well." we both put our eyes to the grating. the prisoner lay with his face towards us,in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. he was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad asbecame his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tatteredcoat. he was, as the inspector had said,extremely dirty, but the grime which

covered his face could not conceal itsrepulsive ugliness. a broad wheal from an old scar ran rightacross it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up one side of theupper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. a shock of very bright red hair grew lowover his eyes and forehead. "he's a beauty, isn't he?" said theinspector. "he certainly needs a wash," remarkedholmes. "i had an idea that he might, and i tookthe liberty of bringing the tools with me." he opened the gladstone bag as he spoke,and took out, to my astonishment, a very

large bath-sponge."he! he! you are a funny one," chuckled theinspector. "now, if you will have the great goodnessto open that door very quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectablefigure." "well, i don't know why not," said theinspector. "he doesn't look a credit to the bow streetcells, does he?" he slipped his key into the lock, and weall very quietly entered the cell. the sleeper half turned, and then settleddown once more into a deep slumber. holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistenedhis sponge, and then rubbed it twice

vigorously across and down the prisoner'sface. "let me introduce you," he shouted, "to mr.neville st. clair, of lee, in the county of kent."never in my life have i seen such a sight. the man's face peeled off under the spongelike the bark from a tree. gone was the coarse brown tint! gone, too, was the horrid scar which hadseamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! a twitch brought away the tangled red hair,and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man,black-haired and smooth-skinned, rubbing

his eyes and staring about him with sleepybewilderment. then suddenly realising the exposure, hebroke into a scream and threw himself down with his face to the pillow. "great heavens!" cried the inspector, "itis, indeed, the missing man. i know him from the photograph." the prisoner turned with the reckless airof a man who abandons himself to his destiny."be it so," said he. "and pray what am i charged with?" "with making away with mr. neville st.--oh, come, you can't be charged with that

unless they make a case of attemptedsuicide of it," said the inspector with a grin. "well, i have been twenty-seven years inthe force, but this really takes the cake." "if i am mr. neville st. clair, then it isobvious that no crime has been committed, and that, therefore, i am illegallydetained." "no crime, but a very great error has beencommitted," said holmes. "you would have done better to have trustedyour wife." "it was not the wife; it was the children,"groaned the prisoner. "god help me, i would not have them ashamedof their father.

my god! what an exposure!what can i do?" sherlock holmes sat down beside him on thecouch and patted him kindly on the "if you leave it to a court of law to clearthe matter up," said he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. on the other hand, if you convince thepolice authorities that there is no possible case against you, i do not knowthat there is any reason that the details should find their way into the papers. inspector bradstreet would, i am sure, makenotes upon anything which you might tell us

and submit it to the proper authorities.the case would then never go into court at "god bless you!" cried the prisonerpassionately. "i would have endured imprisonment, ay,even execution, rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot to mychildren. "you are the first who have ever heard mystory. my father was a schoolmaster inchesterfield, where i received an excellent education. i travelled in my youth, took to the stage,and finally became a reporter on an evening paper in london.

one day my editor wished to have a seriesof articles upon begging in the metropolis, and i volunteered to supply them.there was the point from which all my adventures started. it was only by trying begging as an amateurthat i could get the facts upon which to base my articles. when an actor i had, of course, learned allthe secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for my skill.i took advantage now of my attainments. i painted my face, and to make myself aspitiable as possible i made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by theaid of a small slip of flesh-coloured

plaster. then with a red head of hair, and anappropriate dress, i took my station in the business part of the city, ostensibly as amatch-seller but really as a beggar. for seven hours i plied my trade, and wheni returned home in the evening i found to my surprise that i had received no lessthan 26s. 4d. "i wrote my articles and thought littlemore of the matter until, some time later, i backed a bill for a friend and had a writserved upon me for 25 pounds. i was at my wit's end where to get themoney, but a sudden idea came to me.

i begged a fortnight's grace from thecreditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging inthe city under my disguise. in ten days i had the money and had paidthe debt. "well, you can imagine how hard it was tosettle down to arduous work at 2 pounds a week when i knew that i could earn as muchin a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, andsitting still. it was a long fight between my pride andthe money, but the dollars won at last, and i threw up reporting and sat day after dayin the corner which i had first chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face andfilling my pockets with coppers.

only one man knew my secret. he was the keeper of a low den in which iused to lodge in swandam lane, where i could every morning emerge as a squalidbeggar and in the evenings transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. this fellow, a lascar, was well paid by mefor his rooms, so that i knew that my secret was safe in his possession."well, very soon i found that i was saving considerable sums of money. i do not mean that any beggar in thestreets of london could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my averagetakings--but i had exceptional advantages

in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved bypractice and made me quite a recognised character in the city. all day a stream of pennies, varied bysilver, poured in upon me, and it was a very bad day in which i failed to take 2pounds. "as i grew richer i grew more ambitious,took a house in the country, and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicionas to my real occupation. my dear wife knew that i had business inthe city. she little knew what.

"last monday i had finished for the day andwas dressing in my room above the opium den when i looked out of my window and saw, tomy horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with her eyesfixed full upon me. i gave a cry of surprise, threw up my armsto cover my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the lascar, entreated him toprevent anyone from coming up to me. i heard her voice downstairs, but i knewthat she could not ascend. swiftly i threw off my clothes, pulled onthose of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. even a wife's eyes could not pierce socomplete a disguise.

but then it occurred to me that there mightbe a search in the room, and that the clothes might betray me. i threw open the window, reopening by myviolence a small cut which i had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. then i seized my coat, which was weightedby the coppers which i had just transferred to it from the leather bag in which icarried my takings. i hurled it out of the window, and itdisappeared into the thames. the other clothes would have followed, butat that moment there was a rush of constables up the stair, and a few minutesafter i found, rather, i confess, to my

relief, that instead of being identified as mr. neville st. clair, i was arrested ashis murderer. "i do not know that there is anything elsefor me to explain. i was determined to preserve my disguise aslong as possible, and hence my preference for a dirty face. knowing that my wife would be terriblyanxious, i slipped off my ring and confided it to the lascar at a moment when noconstable was watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had nocause to fear." "that note only reached her yesterday,"said holmes.

"good god! what a week she must have spent!""the police have watched this lascar," said inspector bradstreet, "and i can quiteunderstand that he might find it difficult to post a letter unobserved. probably he handed it to some sailorcustomer of his, who forgot all about it for some days.""that was it," said holmes, nodding approvingly; "i have no doubt of it. but have you never been prosecuted forbegging?" "many times; but what was a fine to me?""it must stop here, however," said

bradstreet. "if the police are to hush this thing up,there must be no more of hugh boone." "i have sworn it by the most solemn oathswhich a man can take." "in that case i think that it is probablethat no further steps may be taken. but if you are found again, then all mustcome out. i am sure, mr. holmes, that we are verymuch indebted to you for having cleared the matter up.i wish i knew how you reach your results." "i reached this one," said my friend, "bysitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag.

i think, watson, that if we drive to bakerstreet we shall just be in time for breakfast."

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