Sherlock Holmes Detective New Detective (Part 1)

Tenants with veils

　　If one considers that Mr. Holmes has been in business for twenty-three years, and that I have been his collaborator and recorder for seventeen years, it is clear that I have a great deal of information in my hands. For me, the question is always how to choose, not how to find materials. The long rows of documents recorded year by year on the shelves, as well as the many document delivery boxes filled with materials, are a complete repository not only for those who study crime, but even for those who study Victoria's late social and official scandals. With regard to the latter, I can say that anyone who has written anxious letters asking for the secrecy of their family honor and famous ancestors is at ease. The cautious attitude and high professionalism characteristic of my friend Holmes still play a role in my selection of materials, and I will never abuse the trust of others to us. However, I firmly oppose the recent attempts to seize and destroy these documents. We already know who is the instigator of this incident, and I declare, on behalf of Mr. Holmes, that if such acts were to take place again, all the secrets of a politician, a beacon and a domesticated cormorant would be made public. At least one reader understands this.

　　Moreover, there is no reason to think that in every case Holmes had the opportunity to show his peculiar insight and genius of observational analysis, which I have spared no effort in my memoirs. Sometimes he had to work hard to pick the fruit, but sometimes the fruit automatically fell into his arms. And often the most horrific human tragedies are the cases that do not show him the opportunity of personal talent, and now I want to describe such a case. I changed my name and location slightly, but it's all true story.

　　One morning—it was late 1896—I received a hastily written note from Holmes asking me to go at once. When I arrived, I saw him sitting in a cigarette-filled room, and in the chair opposite him sat a fat woman of a slightly older, mother-in-law, landlady type.

　　"This is Mrs. Melillo of South Blexton," my friend said, raising her hand, "Mrs. Melillo is not against smoking, Watson, and you can enjoy your dirty hobbies to the fullest." Mrs. Melellow is going to tell an interesting thing, it may develop, then your presence will be useful. ”

　　"If I can help—"

　　"Mrs. Melillo, if I go to visit Mrs. Randall, I would like someone to be present. Please go back and explain this to her first. ”

　　"God bless you, Monsieur Holmes," said the guest, "she is very anxious to see you, and she does not care that you bring all the parish people with her." ”

　　"Then we'll go a little earlier this afternoon." Before we go, we have to make sure we get the facts right. Let's recount it again, so that we can help Dr. Watson grasp the situation. You just said that Mrs. Randall has lived in your house for seven years, and you have only seen her face once. ”

　　"I swear to God, I'd rather never see it once!" Mrs. Melillo said.

　　"Her face hurts very badly, right?"

　　"Mr. Holmes, that's not a human face at all. It's just so scary. Once the milk delivery man saw her looking out the window upstairs, and the milk delivery man was so frightened that he threw away the milk bucket, making the garden in front of him full of milk. That's her face. Once I saw her face, and she immediately put it on the veil, and she said, 'Mrs. Mellilou, now you know why I don't take off the veil.' '”

　　"Do you know her past?"

　　"I don't know."

　　"Did she have any letters of introduction when she first came to live?"

　　"No, but what she has is cash. The prepaid first-quarter rent is immediately on the table, and there is no price. How can a helpless person like me refuse such a guest at this age? ”

　　"Did she choose your house for any reason?"

　　"My house is far from the road and calmer than most other rental houses. In addition, I only accept one tenant, and I have no family myself. I guess she probably tried another house, and my house was her favorite. What she asked for was calm, and she wasn't afraid to spend money. ”

　　"You said she didn't show her face at all since she came, except for the cold time." It's a strange thing, it's very peculiar. No wonder you asked for an investigation. ”

　　"Not what I asked, Mr. Holmes. For me, as long as I get the rent, I'm content. There is no quieter, more hassle-free tenant than her. ”

　　"So how did it become a problem?"

　　"Her health, Mr. Holmes. It was as if she were going to die, and she had a terrible burden in her heart. Sometimes she shouts 'Help, help!' Once I heard her shout, 'You cruel beast!' You are the devil! It was night, but the shouts were audible throughout the house, and I got goosebumps all over my body. I went to her the next morning. 'Mrs. Randall,' I said, 'if you have any unspeakable burden in your heart, you can go to the priest and the police, who can always help you.' ''Oh, I don't want the police!' She said, 'The pastor can't change the way it used to be.' But if someone knew what was in my heart before I died, I could relax. '''Hey,' I said, 'if you don't want to find a regular cop, and a man who is a detective in the newspaper'—sorry, Mr. Holmes. She agreed as soon as she heard it. 'Yeah, this guy is just right,' she said, 'really, how come I didn't think of it.' Mrs. Melillo, bring him in. If he won't come, you say I'm Randall's wife in the circus. You say so, and give him another place name: Abbas Barrwa. That's what she wrote, Abbas Barrwa. She said that if he was the man I knew, he would come when he saw the place name. ”

　　"It's coming," said Holmes. "All right, Mrs. Melillo. I'll talk to Dr. Watson first, and it's going to be lunchtime. At about three o'clock we can get to your house. ”

　　No sooner had our guest twisted out like a duck—there was no other verb to describe her way of acting—Sherlock Holmes leapt up and dug into the vast exclamation book in the corner of the house to rummage through it. Within a few minutes all he could hear was the whizzing of the pages turned, and later he heard him grunt with satisfaction, and it turned out that he had found it. He was so excited that he didn't bother to stand up, but sat on the floor like a strange Buddha, his legs crossed, surrounded by large books, and a book on his lap.

　　"This case was a headache for me at the time, Watson. The marginal notes here can be used as proof. I admit that I cannot solve this case, but I am convinced that the coroner is wrong. Don't you remember that Abbas Barrwa tragedy? ”

　　"I don't remember anything, Sherlock Holmes."

　　"And you went with me." However, my personal impression is also very shallow. Because there was no clear conclusion, the other party did not ask me for help. Would you like to look at the records? ”

　　"Would you like to talk about the main points?"

　　"That's not hard. Maybe as soon as you hear me, you will remember the scene at that time. The surname Langdall is a household name. He was a contender for Wormwell and Sanger, who was the biggest circus of the year. By the time of the accident, however, Randall had become an alcoholic, and both he and his circus were in decline. This tragedy occurred when his team was spending the night in Abbas Barrwa, a small village in Berkshire. They were halfway to Wimbledon, overland, and it was just camping, not performing, because the village was too small to be worth performing.

　　"They carried with them a majestic North African lion named The Sahara King. Randall and his wife's habit was to perform inside cages. Here is a photograph of a performance in progress, showing that Randall is a burly, wild boar-type man and his wife is a very decent woman. During the autopsy, someone took an oath to testify that the lion had shown signs of danger at that time, but people always had contempt because of daily contact, and did not pay any attention to these signs.

　　"Usually it was always Langdall or his wife who fed the lions at night. Sometimes one person goes, sometimes two people go together, but never let others feed them, because they think that as long as they are feeders, the lions will treat them as benefactors without harming them. Seven years ago, on the night that the two of them had gone together, and tragedy had taken place, the details of which had never been clarified.

　　"Near midnight, the whole camp was awakened by the roar of lions and the screams of women. The groom and the workers ran out of their tents with lanterns, raised their lamps, and saw a terrible scene. Langdall was lying about ten meters from the cage, the back of his head collapsed inwards, with deep paw prints on it. The cage door had opened, and just outside it, Mrs. Randel was lying on her back, the lion crouching on top of her and roaring. Her face was torn to shreds, and no one expected her to survive. Led by Hercules Leonardo and the clown Griggs, several circus performers drove the lion away with long poles, and it jumped back into its cage. Everyone immediately closed the door. But how the lion came out is a mystery. It is generally assumed that the two men intended to enter the cage, but as soon as the door was opened, the lion jumped out and pounced on them. The only illuminating point in the evidence is that the woman, after being carried back to the overnight caravan, always shouted 'Coward! coward! She didn't return to the point of testifying until six months later, but the autopsy had already been held as usual, and the verdict was, of course, an accidental death. ”

　　"Is there any other possibility?" I say.

　　"You're saying that for good reason. But there were a few things that always displeased the young Edmund of the Berkshire Police Department. What a clever boy! He was later sent to Allahabad. I was involved in this matter because he came to visit me and talked about the case while smoking a cigarette. ”

　　"Is he a skinny, yellow-haired man?"

　　"Exactly. I knew you would remember. ”

　　"What is he worried about?"

　　"He and I are both uneasy. The problem is that it is difficult to imagine the whole process of events. You think of it from the lion's point of view. It was released. What does it do? It jumped five or six steps forward to Langdall. He turned and fled—the paw print was on the back of his head—but the lion grabbed him down. Then, instead of running forward, it turned and ran toward the woman. She was at the edge of the cage, and the lion threw her down and bit her in the face. She cried out in a coma as if to say that her husband had turned his back on her. But could he still help her then? You see the flaws, right? ”

　　"Yes."

　　"One more point. I remember. There is evidence that at the same time as the lion roared and the woman barked, there was a man's terrifying cry. ”

　　"Of course it's Langdall."

　　"If his skull had sunk in, it would have been difficult to hear him again. At least two witnesses spoke of men's shouts mixed with women's screams. ”

　　"I think by then the whole camp was shouting, and as for the other doubts, I have an explanation."

　　"I'm willing to listen."

　　"The two of them were together, and when the lion came out, they were ten meters away from the cage. The woman wanted to rush into the cage and close the cage door, which was her only refuge. She ran toward the cage, and just as she was about to reach the door, the lion jumped over and threw her down. She hated that her husband turned around and fled and the provoked lion was even more violent, and if they confronted the lion, they might scare it off. So she shouted 'Coward! '”

　　"Clever, Watson! But there is a little bit of a white flaw. ”

　　"What's the loophole?"

　　"If both are ten meters away, how can the lion come out?"

　　"Could it be released by the enemy?"

　　"Then why do lions usually play with them and perform tricks with them in cages, but this time they pounce on them?"

　　"Maybe the enemy deliberately provoked the lion."

　　Holmes pondered and did not speak for a few minutes.

　　"Watson, there is a point that is good for your theory. Randall had many enemies. Edmund told me he went berserk after drinking. He was a burly thug who cursed and smoked indiscriminately. I think that mrs. Randall, who was just mentioned by the guest, called out the devil at night is dreaming of a dead relative. But in any case, our speculation is useless until the facts are obtained. Well, Watson, there was a cold cut pheasant in the cupboard, and a bottle of Burgundy white wine. Let's refuel before we visit. ”

　　When our carriage stopped in front of Mrs. Melillo's house, we saw her fat body blocking the doorway, a simple and calm house. Apparently her main intention was to fear losing a valuable tenant, so she told us not to say or do anything that would cause her to lose the guest before taking us up. We said yes to her, and followed her up a straight staircase covered with a broken carpet, and were ushered into the room of the mysterious tenant.

　　It was a dull, musty, poorly ventilated house, which was not surprising, since the owner never went out. This woman, by a strange fate, had gone from a man who was accustomed to keeping animals in cages to an animal in a cage. She sat on a broken couch in the corner of the dark room. Years of inactivity made her figure thicker, but that body was certainly beautiful at first, and it is still plump and moving. She wears a thick dark veil over her head, but cut short to reveal a graceful mouth and rounded chin. I can imagine that she used to be a woman of extraordinary beauty. Her tone is also very soothing and good.

　　"Mr. Holmes, my last name is no stranger to you," she said. "I knew you were coming."

　　"Yes, ma'am, but I don't know how you might think I'm interested in your situation."

　　"After I recovered, the local detective, Mr. Edmund, talked to me and I listened to him. I didn't tell him the truth. Maybe it's smarter to be honest. ”

　　"Generally speaking, telling the truth is the smartest. But why are you lying to him? ”

　　"Because the fate of the other man has to do with my words. I knew he was a worthless man, but I still didn't want to upset my conscience by ruining him. Our relationship used to be so close – so close! ”

　　"Is this obstacle removed now?"

　　"Yes, this man is dead."

　　"Then why don't you tell the police authorities everything you know?"

　　"Because there's another person to consider. This person is myself. I can't stand the gossip that comes with police court trials. I won't live long, but I'm going to die quietly. I still wanted to find someone who was clear-headed and told him about my terrible experience, so that the truth would be revealed when I died. ”

　　"Ma'am, I dare not be. I am also a socially responsible person, and I cannot promise you that I will not report it to the police when you are finished. ”

　　"I agree with you, Mr. Holmes. I know your personality and the way you work, because I've been reading about you all these years. The only joy that fate has left me is to read, so I rarely miss what happens in society and don't read it. Anyway, I'm willing to try my luck and let you take advantage of my tragedy. I was relieved to say it. ”

　　"Then my friend and I are willing to listen to you."

　　The woman stood up and took out a picture of a man from the drawer. He was apparently a professional acrobat, a well-built man, with two stout arms crossed in front of the bulging chest muscles, his lips smiling open under a thick beard—a complacent laugh that had conquered the opposite sex many times.

　　"This is Leonardo," she said.

　　"Is that the Hercules who testified?"

　　"Exactly. Look at this one again – this is my husband. ”

　　It was an ugly face—a humanoid pig, or rather a humanoid wild boar, because in the wild it also had a powerful and terrifying side. One can imagine this ugly mouth spewing saliva and screaming in unison when it is full of anger, or one can imagine this pair of fierce little eyes shooting out purely vicious glances at people. Rogues, bullies, savages—these are all clearly written on this big chin face.

　　"Gentlemen, these two photographs can help you understand my experience. I was a poor circus actor who grew up on sawdust and had performed circle jumping before the age of ten. When I was growing up, this man fell in love with me, if his lust could be called love. At an unfortunate moment, I became his wife. From that moment on, I lived in hell, and he was the devil who tormented me. There wasn't a single person in the circus class who didn't know about his abuse of me. He turned his back on me to find another woman. As soon as I complained, he tied me up and whipped me with a horse whip. Everyone sympathized with me and hated him, but what could they do? They were all afraid of him, all afraid of him. He was terrible at all times, like a ferocious murderer when drunk. Time and time again, he was summoned for beating people and abusing animals, but he had money and was not afraid of fines. The good actors all left us, and the circus class began to go downhill. It was leonardo and I, plus the clown of Griggs Jr., who barely managed to keep the team going. Griggs, the poor one, didn't have much coke, but he tried to keep things up.

　　"Then Leonardo got closer and closer to me. You see his appearance, and now I know what a cowardly spirit there is in this beautiful body, but compared to my husband, he is an angel. He pitied me and helped me, and then our closeness became love—a deep, deep, passionate love, a love I dreamed of and did not dare to hope for. My husband was suspicious of us, but I felt that he was not only a bully but also a coward, and Leonardo was the only person he feared. He retaliated in his characteristic way, torturing me more than before. One night I was shouting so miserably that Leonardo appeared in front of our caravan. We almost had a tragedy that day, and after that my lover and I both thought that sooner or later there would be a tragedy. My husband doesn't deserve to live in this world. We've got to find a way to kill him.

　　"Leonardo has a clever mind. It was the way he came up with. I'm not pushing him, because I'm willing to follow him step by step. But I couldn't think of such an idea in my life. We made a stick—it was Made by Leonardo—and he placed five long steel nails on the lead head, the tip facing outward, exactly in the shape of a lion's claw. Beat my husband to death with this stick, and then release the lion, causing the lion to kill him.

　　"When my husband and I went to feed the lions as usual that day, it was dark. We fill raw meat in zinc drums. Leonardo was hidden around the corner of the caravan we had to pass. He was moving too slowly, we had already walked past, and he hadn't gotten off yet. But he followed us softly, and I heard the sound of the stick cracking my husband's skull. As soon as I heard this voice, my heart jumped with joy. As soon as I rushed forward, I opened the latch that held the lion.

　　"Then something terrible happened. You've probably heard that wild beasts are particularly good at sniffing out human blood, and human blood has great allure to them. Due to some strange instinct, the lion knew at once that a living person had been killed. As soon as I opened the latch it jumped out and immediately pounced on me. Leonardo could have saved me. If he ran up and slammed the lion with that stick, maybe it would scare it off. But he lost his nerve. I heard him screaming in fright, and then I saw him turn around and run away. At this time the lion's teeth bit down on my face. Its hot, smelly breath had paralyzed me, and I didn't know the pain. I desperately tried with the palm of my hand to push away the huge steaming, blood-stained mouth while screaming for help. I felt the people in the camp alarmed, and later all I knew was that a few people, Leonardo, Griggs, and others, had pulled me away from under the lion's claws. That was my last memory, Mr. Holmes, that I had not gotten better until it took a few heavy months. When I regained consciousness and saw my appearance in the mirror, how I cursed the lion! Not because it took away my beauty, but because it didn't take my life! Mr. Holmes, at this time I have only one wish left, and I have enough money to fulfill it. That is to cover my face with a veil so that I cannot see it, to live in a place where no acquaintance can find me. It was the only thing I could do, and I did just that. A poor wounded animal crawls into its hole to end its life—and that's where Eugenia Randall belongs. ”

　　After listening to the unfortunate woman's account of her anger, we sat in silence for a moment. Holmes stretched out his long arm and clapped her hand, showing a deep sympathy that was rare to him.

　　"Poor girl!" He said, "Poor man! Fate is so elusive. If there is no retribution in the afterlife, then the world is a cruel joke. But what happened to Leonardo this man! ”

　　"I didn't see or hear of him again. Maybe I was wrong to hate him like that. He might as well love a deformed child with a lion's mouth for the rest of his life, which is one of the things we use to perform. But a woman's love is not so easy to get rid of. When I was under the claws of the lion, he turned his back on me, and in the midst of hardship he left me, but I still could not send him to the gallows. As far as I'm concerned, I don't care what happens to me, because is there anything more terrible in the world than my existing life? But I took care of his fate. ”

　　"Is he dead?"

　　"He drowned last month while swimming near Magat. I read it in the newspaper. ”

　　"Then what did he do with that five-clawed stick?" This stick is the most unique and ingenious thing in your narrative. ”

　　"I don't know, Mr. Holmes. There is a chalk pit near the camp with a deep green waterhole at the bottom. Maybe it was thrown in that pool. ”

　　"To be honest, it doesn't matter much, the case has been closed."

　　"Yes," said the woman, "the case is closed." ”

　　We were already up to go, but there was something in the woman's tone that caught Holmes's attention. He immediately turned to her and said:

　　"Your life doesn't belong to you," he said. "You don't have the right to do it to yourself."

　　"Does it have any use for others?"

　　"How do you know it's useless?" For a world that lacks patience, perseverance and patience to suffer is in itself the most valuable example. ”

　　The woman's answer was frightening. She ripped off her veil and walked to where there was light.

　　"Can you bear it?" She said.

　　It was an unusually frightening sight. The face has been destroyed, and there are no words to describe it. Underneath that rotten face, two lively and beautiful yellow eyes looked out sadly, which was even more frightening. Holmes raised a hand with pity. We left the room together.

　　Two days later, I came to my friend's residence, and he proudly pointed with his finger at a small blue vial on the mantelpiece. There was a red stick on the bottle with the words "Poison" written on it. I opened the bunk and there was a hint of almond sweetness.

　　"Hydrocyanic acid?" I say.

　　"Exactly. It was mailed. The note read: 'I will send you what tempts me.' I follow your advice. 'Watson, we can guess the name of the brave woman who sent the letter.' ”

　　Shawscombe Villa

　　Sherlock Holmes bent over a low-power microscope for a long time, and now he stood up straight and looked at me triumphantly.

　　"Watson, this is glue," he said, "there is no doubt it is glue." Look at these things scattered around! ”

　　I leaned over to the eyepiece to align the focus.

　　"These fibers are for tweed tops. These irregular gray clumps are dust. There is also epithelial scales on the left. These brown sticky clumps in the middle are undoubtedly glue. ”

　　"Well," I said with a smile, "I'm ready to take your opinion. Does that tell us anything? ”

　　"That's good evidence," he replied. "You may remember the hat found next to the policeman's corpse in the St. Pancles case." The accused denied that it was his. But he was a framer who often used glue. ”

　　"Is this your case?"

　　"No, this is a case that my friend, Merrillville of the Police Force, asked me to help with. Ever since I found zinc and copper chips in the defendant's sleeve slits and therefore inferred that he was a counterfeiter, they recognized the importance of the microscope. He looked impatiently at his watch. "I have a new patron coming, and the time has passed. By the way, Watson, do you know horse racing? ”

　　"Logically, you should understand a little. Half of my injury pension is spent on it. ”

　　"Then I'm going to use you as my 'horse racing guide.'" Do you know Robert Norberton? Do you remember the name? ”

　　"Of course I remember. He lived at Shawscombe Villa, which I knew very well, and I spent a summer there. At one point, Norberton almost came into your business. ”

　　"What's going on?"

　　"He nearly beat Sam Brewer to death with a horse whip in Newmarket, a moneylender on Colzen Street."

　　"Well, he's so interesting! Does he often do that? ”

　　"Yes, he is a famous dangerous man. He's pretty much The Boldest Rider in Britain – second in the Liverpool Obstacle Course a few years ago. He was the kind of person who didn't belong to the times in which he lived. If he had been a regent, he would have been a dude— a boxer, an athleticist, a desperate rider, a beauty seeker— and once he went downhill he would never come back. ”

　　"Amazing, Watson! Your introduction was so brief that I seemed to meet him in person. Can you tell me about some of The Shawscombe Villas? ”

　　"All I knew was that it was in the middle of ShoscomBe Park, where the famous Shoskham stallion and training ground were also there."

　　"The coach is John Masson," said Holmes, "not to express surprise, Watson, and he sent the letter I opened." Let's talk about Shoscombe. It was as if I had encountered a rich mineral deposit. ”

　　"There's Shoscolm's long-haired eared dog there," I said. "They are famous in all dog markets. This is the best breed of dog in the UK. They are the pride of The Hostess of Shoscombe. ”

　　"Is the hostess the wife of Sir Robert Norberton?"

　　"Sir Robert was never married. Considering his prospects, this is also a good thing. He lived with his widowed sister, Mrs. Beatrice Verde. ”

　　"You mean she lives in his house?"

　　"No, no. The house belonged to her ex-husband James. Mr. Norberton does not have any property rights here. During her lifetime, the proceeds of the estate went to her, and after her death the property was returned to her husband's brother. She just collects rent every year. ”

　　"I suppose Robert spent the rent money?"

　　"Almost. He was a guy who didn't care, and he must have made her very restless. But I still heard that she was very good to him. So, what went wrong with Shoscombe? ”

　　"Ah, that's exactly what I want to know. I think someone who can tell us about this has come. ”

　　The door had opened, and out of the aisle came a tall man with a clean face, and his determined, stern expression indicated that he was the kind of man who taught horses or boys. Mr. Masson does both, and seems to be equally competent. He bowed calmly and calmly, and sat down in the chair that Holmes had pointed out to him.

　　"Mr. Holmes, have you received my letter?"

　　"Yes, but your letter does not give any explanation."

　　"This matter is very sensitive, it is not easy to write on paper, and it is too complicated. I can only meet you. ”

　　"Okay, we'll listen to you."

　　"First of all, Mr. Holmes, I think my master is crazy."

　　Holmes raised an eyebrow. "This is Baker Street, not Harry Street," he said, "and is there any basis for your statement?" ”

　　"Sir, it's understandable for a man to do one or two strange things, but if he does all the odd things, then you'll be suspicious." I think Prince Shoscombe and the Horse Racing Congress have made him insane. ”

　　"Is it a pony you tamed?"

　　"The best horse in all of England, Mr. Holmes, I am sure of that. Now I can speak frankly with you, because I know that you are a gentleman of integrity, and this matter will not be passed on. Sir Robert can only win and not lose in this horse race. He's gone all out and desperate. He bet all the money he could and borrowed on this horse, and the stakes varied dramatically. One to forty was enough, but he bet close to one to one hundred. ”

　　"If horses are so good, why should they?"

　　"But others don't know it's so good. Sir Robert did not let the horse detectives out of the information. He pulled the prince's half-brother out for a ride, and no one could tell them apart. But as soon as you run up, you will run two hundred meters and the distance between them will be pulled apart. He was preoccupied with horses and horse racing, and his whole life was devoted to it. He could still deal with the usurer for the time being, but if the prince failed, he would also be bankrupt. ”

　　"What a desperate gamble, but where do you see that he's crazy?"

　　"First of all, you just have to look at him to know. I simply don't believe he slept at night, he stayed in the horse pen all day. His eyes were frantic, and his nerves could not bear it. And his behavior towards Mrs. Petris! ”

　　"Ah! What's going on? ”

　　"They've always had a good relationship. They had the same fun, and she loved horses as much as he did. She drove on time every day to see the horses—her favorite was the prince. As soon as it heard the wheels on the gravel road, it shrugged its ears, and every morning it would trot to the car to eat its piece of sugar, but now it was all over. ”

　　"Why?"

　　She seemed to have completely lost interest in horses. For a week she had been driving past the horse pen without even saying hello! ”

　　"You think they had a fight?"

　　"And it's loud, rude, and hostile to each other. Otherwise, why would he give her away as a dog that he loved like a son? A few days ago he had given the dog to old Barnes, who was the keeper of the Green Dragon Inn in Klendal three miles away. ”

　　"It's a little weird."

　　"She has a bad heart and puffiness, and of course she can't go out with him, and he always spends two hours in her house every night. He could have done as usual now, because she was one of his rare good friends. But now it was all over, and he never came near her again. She was also sad. She became depressed and dull, and came to drink beer, Mr. Holmes, and drank wildly. ”

　　"Did she drink before she was estranged?"

　　She had a drink too, but now she drank one bottle a night. That's what Stephens, the butler, told me. Everything has changed, Mr. Holmes, it's a mess. Also, did the master go to the crypt of the old church late at night? Who was the man who was waiting for him there? ”

　　Holmes rubbed his hands.

　　"Go on, Mr. Masson, your words are getting more and more interesting."

　　"The housekeeper saw him going in the heavy rain at twelve o'clock in the night. So the next night I came to the house, and sure enough, he went out again. Stephens and I followed him, which was really nervous, and it would be enough for us to let him see. Whoever alarms him, his fist is not spared, and he does not care who it is. So we didn't dare to follow too closely, but we kept staring at him. He went to the haunted crypt, where someone was waiting for him. ”

　　"What is this crypt?"

　　"Sir, there is a ruin of a church in the garden, so old that no one knows its age. There is a crypt underneath it, which is a famous haunted place in the local area. During the day the crypt was dark and damp, desolate and terrible, and few people dared to approach it at night. But our hosts were not afraid. He had never been afraid of anything in his life. But what did he do there at night? ”

　　"Wait a minute!" Holmes said. "You said there was another man there. He must be your groom there, or someone in the house! You must have recognized him and asked him a question, right? ”

　　"Not someone I know."

　　"How can you be sure?"

　　"For I saw him, Mr. Holmes. That was on the second night. Sir Robert turned and walked past us, and Stephens and I were trembling in the bushes like a pair of rabbits because there was a little moonlight that night. But we heard another man walking in the back. We are not afraid of him. So when Mr. Robert passed, we stood up straight, pretended to walk in the moonlight, and ran aimlessly straight up to him. 'Hello, man! Who are you? I said. Eighty percent of his children didn't hear our approaching footsteps, so when he turned back to see us, it was as if he had seen a ghost coming out of hell. He shouted and ran away. He could really run—if he were to tell me, after a minute I wouldn't hear or see him, and we wouldn't know who he was or what he was doing. ”

　　"Did you see him clearly in the moonlight?"

　　"Yes, I remember his yellow face—he was an inferior. What can he do with Sir Robert? ”

　　Holmes sat thoughtfully for a long time.

　　"Who accompanies Mrs. Beatrice Verde?" He finally asked.

　　"Her maid, Cary Evans. She had been following Madame for five years. ”

　　"Needless to say loyal?"

　　Mr. Masson was uneasy.

　　"She was faithful enough," he said at last, "but I can't say who she was loyal to. ”

　　"Ah!" Holmes said.

　　"I can't reveal people's privacy."

　　"I understand very well, Mr. Masson. Of course, the situation is already clear. From Dr. Watson's description of Sir Robert, I already knew that he was dangerous to any woman. Don't you think this could be the cause of their siblings' arguments? ”

　　"This rumor has long been known to everyone."

　　"She may not have seen it in the past. Let's assume she suddenly found out. She wanted to fire the woman, but her brother wouldn't allow it. This weak person has a heart condition and cannot move around, and he cannot fulfill his wishes. Her resentful maid still couldn't leave. So she did not speak to anyone, a life sullen, borrowing wine to pour sorrow. Sir Robert was furious and took away her pet puppy. Can't these all be strung together? ”

　　"Yes, it can be strung together so far."

　　"That's right! Call it a day. But what does all this have to do with going to the crypt at night? We can't explain. ”

　　"Really not, sir, and there is something else I cannot explain. Why would Sir Robert go digging up a dead body? ”

　　Holmes stood up.

　　"We only found out about this yesterday—after I wrote to you. Sir Robert went to London yesterday, so Stephens and I went down to the crypt. Everything else was business as usual, except that there was a small pile of human bones in one corner. ”

　　"Did you report it to the police?"

　　Our visitor smiled coldly.

　　"Sir, they won't be interested. All that was found was the head and a few bones of a dry corpse. It is likely to be an ancient corpse from a thousand years ago. But it wasn't there before, and I could swear that, and Stephens could swear. It was piled up in a corner covered with wooden planks, and that corner had always been empty. ”

　　"What have you done?"

　　"We didn't care about it."

　　"It's wise to do that. You said Sir Robert was gone yesterday and he came back? ”

　　"I should come back today."

　　"When did Sir Robert give away his sister's dog?"

　　"Today last week. The puppy was howling outside the old storeroom, and Sir Robert was throwing a tantrum that morning. He caught the dog, and I thought he was going to kill it. But he gave the dog to the jockey Sandy Bane and told him to give it to old Barnes at the Green Dragon Inn, and he didn't want to see the dog again. ”

　　Holmes sat thoughtfully for a long time. He had just lit his oldest, most sooty pipe.

　　"It's not clear now what you want me to do about it, Mr. Mason," he said at last. "Can you be clearer?"

　　"This may be an indication, Mr. Holmes." The guest said and took a paper bag from his pocket and opened it carefully, revealing a charred bone.

　　Holmes looked up with interest.

　　"Where did you get it?"

　　"There was a heating boiler in the basement under Mrs. Beatrice's room, which had not been used for a long time, and Sir Robert complained that it was cold and burned it up again. Harvey was in charge of burning the boiler —he was one of my guys. Just this morning he came to me with this, and he found the bones while pulling out the boiler ash. He was very dismissive of the bones in the stove. ”

　　"I don't think so either," said Holmes. "Can you recognize what this is, Watson?"

　　The bone had burned into black scorch, but its anatomical features could still be distinguished.

　　"It's the upper condyle of a man's thigh," I replied.

　　"Good value for money" Holmes became very serious. "When is this guy going to burn the stove?"

　　"He burns up every night and leaves."

　　"So anyone can go at night?"

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"Can you get in from the outside?"

　　"There is only one door outside, and a door inside leads down the stairs to the aisle of Mrs. Beatrice's room."

　　"This case is not simple, Mr. Masson, and it smells bloody. You mean Sir Robert wasn't home last night? ”

　　"No, sir."

　　"So it wasn't him who burned the bones, but someone else?"

　　"That's right, sir."

　　"What's the name of that inn you just said?"

　　"Green Dragon Hotel."

　　"There's a nice fishing spot in the inn, huh?" The honest horse trainer had a puzzled look on his face, as if he were sure that he had met another madman in his difficult life.

　　"Well, I've heard there are trout in the ditches and pikes in Lake Hall."

　　"That's great. Watson and I are famous fishing enthusiasts – right, Watson? You have a letter that you can send to the Qinglong Hotel. We'll be there tonight. You don't have to go there to find us, write us a note, and I can find you if needed. Once we have some understanding of the matter, I will give you a mature opinion. ”

　　So, on a clear May night, Holmes and I sat alone in the first-class carriage and headed for Shoscombe, a small stop called the "greeting stop." The luggage racks above our heads were conspicuously piled high with fishing rods, fishing lines and baskets. After arriving at our destination, we took a carriage ride to an old-fashioned inn, where the active owner, Josiah Barnes, eagerly participated in our discussions on a plan to exterminate nearby fish.

　　"How's it going, is there hope for pike fishing on Lake Hall?" Holmes said.

　　The shopkeeper's face sank.

　　"Don't hit that idea, sir. Before you can catch a fish, you fall into the water. ”

　　"That's because of Sir Robert, sir. He especially dislikes people moving his trout. If you two strangers approach his training ground, he will never let you go, Sir Robert is not sloppy at all! ”

　　"I heard he had a horse ride to the race, didn't he?"

　　"Yes, and very good horses. We all bet our money on it, and All of Mr. Robert's money was staked. "By the way," he looked at us in amazement, "don't you guys be horse spies?" ”

　　"Where's the word! We were just two weary Londoners craving fresh berkshire air. ”

　　"Then you have a place to go." There's fresh air here. But remember what I said about Sir Robert. He's the kind of guy who chops first and plays later. Far from the park. ”

　　"Of course, Mr. Barnes! We will. You see, the dog barking in the hall is so pretty. ”

　　"A good point. That's the real Shoskrom species. There is nothing more beautiful in Britain. ”

　　"I'm also a dog lover," said Holmes. "I wonder if it's appropriate to ask this question, but how much is this dog worth?"

　　"I can't afford it, sir. The dog was given to me by Sir Robert himself, so I put it on a leash. If I let it go, it would run to the villa in the blink of an eye. ”

　　"Watson, we have a few cards in our hands now." After the owner left, Holmes said, "This card is not easy to play, but in a day or two we will always be able to figure it out." I heard that Sir Robert was still in London. Maybe tonight we will go to that forbidden place without fear of being beaten. There are two things I need to confirm. ”

　　"Do you have any assumptions, Holmes?"

　　"Just one thing, Watson: Something happened a week ago, and it had a profound impact on the life of the Shoscombe family. What the hell is going on? We can only guess from its effect. The effect seemed to be a strange mixture of factors, but certainly helped our scouting. Only that kind of bland case can't be done.

　　"Let us see what we have learned: the younger brother no longer visits his dear sick sister; he has given away her beloved puppy. Send away her dog, Watson! Don't you see the problem? ”

　　"I only see my brother's ruthlessness."

　　"Maybe so. Or — well, there's another possibility here. Let's move on to what has happened since the quarrel, if there has been one. The lady closed the door, changed her habits, stopped showing up except for the ride out with the maid, refused to park at the stable to see her beloved horse, and apparently drank beer. All included, right? ”

　　"And the things in the crypt."

　　"That's another line of thinking. These are two different things, and I ask you not to confuse them. The first clue is about Mrs. Beatrice, isn't it a bit of a crime? ”

　　"I can't see it."

　　"Now let's look at the second clue, which is about Sir Robert. He was obsessed with the victory of the horse race. He fell into the hands of a usurer, and at any time he could go bankrupt and his family property was auctioned off, and his horse racing would fall into the hands of his creditors. He is a daredevil, and now he is a dog jumping off the wall. His income depends entirely on his sister. His sister's maid was again his loyal slave. We are sure of these points, right? ”

　　"But that crypt?"

　　"Ah, yes, and the crypt!" Watson, let us suppose—which is of course a defamatory speculation, a premise put forward for justification purposes—that Sir Robert killed his sister. ”

　　"Dude, it's impossible."

　　"Very likely, Watson. Sir Robert was of noble birth, but there were occasional crows in the eagle flock. Let's start with this question. He would never leave this place unless he became rich, and it was all thanks to Prince Shoscombe's great victory this time. He still had to hold his ground, so he had to dispose of the victim's body and find a substitute who could imitate her. Since the maid was his confidant, it was not impossible to do so. The female corpse may have been transported to a crypt that few people go to, or it may have been secretly destroyed in the furnace late at night, leaving behind evidence that we have seen. What do you think, Watson? ”

　　"If you affirm that terrible premise first, what is impossible?"

　　"Watson, in order to find out the facts, I think we can do a little experiment tomorrow. As for today, in order to maintain our identity, I suggest that we entertain him with our master's own wine and talk to him about eels and carp, which may be the best way to please him. We may be able to hear some useful local news between conversations. ”

　　The next morning, Holmes discovered that we had forgotten the bait we had brought for trout, so as not to go fishing. At about eleven o'clock we went out for a walk, and he was allowed to go with us with the little black dog.

　　"This is it," said Holmes as we came to the high park gate with the eagle-headed badge erected, "that Mr. Barnes told me that the old lady would come out in a car at noon for a ride, and that the carriage would slow down when the door was opened. Watson, when the car has just entered the gate and does not get up, please stop the driver and ask a question. Leave me alone, I'll stand behind this holly bush and observe. ”

　　The waiting time is not long. Fifteen minutes later we saw a yellow open-toped carriage coming from the road in the distance, driven by two beautiful, well-behaved gray horses. Holmes squatted behind the bushes with his dog, and I stood idly in the middle of the road waving a cane. A janitor ran out and opened the gate.

　　The carriage slowed down so I could watch the people in the carriage carefully. To the left sat a young woman with rosy-faced hair and unstretched eyes. To her right sat an elderly man with a round back, her face and shoulders wrapped in a large circle of shawls, indicating that she was frail and sickly. As the carriage took up the boulevard I solemnly raised my hand, and the coachman strangled the horse, so I went up to inquire whether Sir Robert was in the villa.

　　Then Holmes came out and let go of the dog. The dog barked with joy, rushed to the carriage, and jumped on the pedals. But in the blink of an eye, its eager greeting turned into rage, barking and biting at the black dress above.

　　"Let's go! Come on! A man with a rough voice shouted, and the coachman whipped his horse away, leaving the two of us standing on the main road.

　　"Watson, it has been confirmed," said Holmes as he put a chain around the neck of the excited dog. The dog thought she was the mistress, but found her to be a stranger. Dogs can't be mistaken. ”

　　"That's a man's voice!" I cried.

　　"That's right! We had one more card, Watson, but we still had to play seriously. ”

　　My partner didn't seem to have any other plans that day, so we actually caught fish in the ditch with the fishing gear we brought, and the result was to add a trout to our dinner. After the meal, Holmes became energetic again. Once again, we came to the road leading to the park gates as we had done in the morning. A tall, dark-skinned man was waiting for us. He was our old acquaintance in London, the horse trainer, Mr. John Masson.

　　"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, "I have received your note, Mr. Holmes. Sir Robert is not back yet. But I heard he was coming back tonight. ”

　　"How far is this crypt from all the houses?" Holmes asked.

　　"A quarter of a mile."

　　"Then we can leave Robert alone."

　　"I can't go with you, Mr. Holmes. As soon as he got home he would call me to ask Prince Shoscombe about the latest situation. ”

　　"Got it! So we'll have to work independently, Mr. Masson. You can take us to the crypt and go later. ”

　　It was pitch black and there was no moonlight, and Masson had been leading us through the pasture, when later a dark shadow appeared in front of us, and when we looked closer, it turned out to be an ancient church. We walked through the gap in the old porch, and our guide stumbled through a pile of rubble to a corner of the church, where a steep staircase led to the crypt. He rubbed matches to illuminate this eerie place—the remnants of old rough-hewn stone walls, stacks of coffins that smelled musty, some made of lead and some made of stone, stacked high against one side of the wall, leading to the arches and the roof hidden in the shadows above. Holmes lit the lantern, and a flickering yellow light illuminated the gloomy place. The bronze plaques on the coffin reflect the light, and most of the signs are decorated with the badge of the eagle-headed lion of the ancient family, which maintains its dignity even before the death gate.

　　"You said there were some bones here, Mr. Masson. Can you take us to see and go? ”

　　"It's in this corner." The trainer walked over, but when our lights shone, he was stunned. "No," he said.

　　"I expected it," said Holmes, laughing softly. "I think even now I can find ashes and unburned bones in the furnace."

　　"I don't understand, why would someone want to burn the bones of a dead person a thousand years ago?" John Masson asked.

　　"We're here to find answers," said Holmes. "It may take a long time, and we won't delay you." I think we'll find out before dawn. ”

　　After John Masson left, Holmes began to examine the tombstones carefully, from the central one that appeared to belong to the beginning of the Saxon era, followed by a long list of The Hugos and Odore tombstones of the Norman era, until we saw the tombstones of William Dennis and Feller in the eighteenth century. More than an hour later, Holmes came to a lead coffin at the entrance to the vault. I heard his cries of satisfaction, and it was clear from his swift and accurate movements that he had found his target. He eagerly examined the edges of the thick and heavy coffin lid with a magnifying glass. Then he took a crowbar from his pocket to open the box, tucked it into the crack of the coffin lid, and pried up the entire coffin lid, which appeared to be secured by only two clips. There was a piercing noise as the coffin lid was pried open, and just before it could fully pry open and reveal only a part of what was inside, something unexpectedly interrupted us.

　　Someone was walking in the church above. It was the firm, hurried footsteps of a man who was clearly aware of the place he was walking. A beam of light shot down the stairs, and the lamp bearer appeared in the Gothic arch. He was a tall, violently charged figure. He carried a large marquee lamp in his hand, and the light set off his thick bearded face and a pair of furious eyes, and his eyes swept every corner of the crypt, and finally stared viciously at my companion and me.

　　"Who are you?" He yelled, "What are you going to do in my estate?" Seeing that Holmes was silent, he took two more steps forward and raised a heavy cane that he carried with him. Hear that? He shouted, "Who are you?" What are you doing here? He waved his cane.

　　Instead of flinching, Holmes stepped forward.

　　"Sir Robert, I have a question for you too," he said unusually sternly. "Who is this?" What's going on here? ”

　　He turned and lifted the lid of the coffin behind him. By the light of a horse lamp, I saw a corpse wrapped in a bristle from head to toe. It was a terrible female corpse, with a protruding nose and chin twisted to one side, and a pair of dark, stagnant eyes on her bloodless, crooked face.

　　The Baron staggered back with a loud cry and leaned back against a stone coffin.

　　"How do you know?" He cried, and in the blink of an eye he returned to his ferocious normality, "What are you doing?" ”

　　"My name is Sherlock Holmes," said my partner. "Maybe you're familiar with it?" In any case, my duty is the same as that of other upright citizens – to uphold the law. I thought there were a lot of things you had to explain. ”

　　Sir Robert watched hostilyly for a moment, but Holmes's calm voice and his calm, confident attitude had an effect.

　　"Mr. Holmes, I can swear to God that I didn't do anything bad," he said. "I admit that on the surface it did work against me, but I did it as a last resort."

　　"I hope that's the case, but I'm afraid you'll have to go to the police station and explain."

　　Sir Robert shrugged his broad shoulders.

　　"Well, if that's the case, so be it. You can go to the manor and see for yourself what's going on. ”

　　Fifteen minutes later we came to a room, and it was clear from the rows of polished barrels displayed behind the glass cover that it was a weapons showroom in the old mansion. The room was comfortably furnished, and here Sir Robert left us for a moment. When he returned he brought two men, one was the rosy-faced young woman we had seen sitting in the carriage, and the other was a short man with a rat face and a sneaky and nasty demeanor. The two men's faces were full of disbelief, indicating that the baron had not yet had time to tell them what had happened.

　　"They," Sir Robert said, pointing with his hand, "are the Norlettes. Mrs. Norett, whose maiden name is Evans, has been my sister's confidante maid for many years. I brought them here because I think the best thing to do is to tell you the truth, and they are the only two people in the world who can testify against me. ”

　　"Sir Robert, is this necessary?" Have you ever thought about what you're doing? The woman shouted.

　　"As for me, I refuse to take any responsibility," her husband said.

　　Sir Robert glanced at him contemptuously. "I take full responsibility," he said. "Mr. Holmes, listen to the simple facts.

　　"You've obviously been very deeply involved in my affairs, or I wouldn't have touched you there." So you probably already know that I domesticated a dark horse for the horse race, and it all depended on whether I could win or not. If I win, then everything goes well. If I lose — ah, I can't imagine. ”

　　"I understand your situation," said Holmes.

　　"I depend on my sister Mrs. Beatrice for everything, but it is well known that her real estate income is only enough for her own life. I had always known that as soon as my sister died, my creditors would rush to my estate like a flock of vultures and take everything—my stables, my horses—everything. Mr. Holmes, my sister died just a week ago. ”

　　"And you didn't tell anyone!"

　　"What can I do? I faced a total bankruptcy. If I can cover this up for three weeks, then everything will be easy. Her maid's husband—that's the man—was an actor. So we thought—and I thought—that he could dress up as my sister in that short period of time. There was no need to do anything other than show up in the carriage every day, for no one would enter her room except her maid. It's not hard to deal with. My sister died of edema that had tormented her for so long. ”

　　"That should be determined by the coroner."

　　"Her doctors can confirm that her illness predicted this outcome a few months ago."

　　"So what did you do?"

　　"The body can't stay here. The first night after her death, Norett and I transported her to the old storehouse, which had long been unused. But her puppy followed us and kept barking at the door, so I wanted to find a safer place. I sent the dog away, and we moved the body back into the crypt of the church. Mr. Holmes, in the slightest insult or disrespect. I was convinced that nothing had been done to be sorry for the dead. ”

　　"I think your actions are unforgivable, Sir Robert."

　　The Baron shook his head impatiently. "Easier said than done," he said, "if you were in my position, you probably wouldn't think so." It is impossible for a man to look at his full hope, his whole plan to be destroyed at the last moment without trying to save it. I don't think it's wrong to leave her temporarily in the coffin of her husband's ancestors as a resting place, and since the place where the coffin is parked is still a solemn and sacred place. We opened one of these coffins, removed the contents, and placed her as you see. As for the remains that were removed from inside, we cannot leave them on the ground of the crypt. So Norett and I removed them, and he went down to the boiler room at night to burn them. This is my narrative, Mr. Holmes, and though I have had to tell it, I do not know how you have forced me to say so. ”

　　Holmes fell into deep thought.

　　"There is a slight flaw in your narrative, Sir Robert," he said at last, "and since you put your bet on the horse, it is your creditors who take your property and it will not affect your future." ”

　　"This horseback riding is also part of the property. Will they care about my horses? They may not let it run at all. It is very unfortunate that my main creditor, my most hated enemy, Sam Brewer, is a shameless man whom I had to smoke once in Newmarket. Do you think he will save me? ”

　　"That's it, Sir Robert," said Holmes, standing up, "and this matter must be left to the police." My responsibility is to discover the facts, and that's it. As for the moral or dignified question of your conduct, I have no right to comment. It's almost midnight, Watson, and it's time for us to go back to our humble dwelling. ”

　　It is now known that the outcome of the case was much better than Sir Robert's conduct deserved. Prince Shoscombe won the game, the owner made a net of eighty thousand pounds, and the creditors did not ask for a debt payment before the end of the game, so after paying off the debt, Sir Robert still had enough money to rebuild a good life. The police and coroners were also tolerant of the matter, and apart from being less severely reprimanded for delaying the registration of his death, the lucky owner escaped cleanly by this speculative cause, which has now been forgotten and his old age will be spent with dignity.

　　Dignitaries

　　"Now don't get in the way," that is the answer of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

　　For the tenth time in ten years, when I asked for the following story to be disclosed, he replied to me in this way. So I finally got permission to make this critical experience of my friend's life public.

　　Holmes and I both have a penchant for Turkish baths. In the comfortable and lazy atmosphere of the steamy dressing room, I always felt that he was more intimate and chatty than elsewhere. Upstairs in the Northampton Street Bathroom, there was a very quiet corner with two recliners side by side, and my memory begins with the place where we lay, on September 3, 1902. I asked him if there were any interesting cases that were not. In response, he suddenly stretched out his long, sharp arm from the sheet wrapped around him and pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket hanging next to him.

　　"It may be a fussy, arrogant fool, but it may be a matter of life and death," he said as he handed me the note. "That's what I know in my letter." The letter was sent from Carlton Club the night before. It reads: Sir James Demeley wishes to pay tribute to Mr. Sherlock Holmes: hereby visits the house at 4:30 p.m. tomorrow, and there will be very difficult matters to discuss, please spare time for advice. If you are willing to do so, please call Carlton Club for information.

　　"Watson, needless to say I have made an appointment with him," said Holmes as I handed the letter back, "do you know anything about the man Demelain?" "All I know is that this name is known to everyone in the social world." "Well, I can tell you a little more. He was known for his adept at dealing with thorny issues that were not appropriate for publication in the newspapers. You probably remember his negotiations with Sir Lewis when he was working on The Hammerford Testament. He was an old man with diplomatic skills. So, I dare say that this time it will probably not be a bluff, he really needs our help. "Ours?" "Yes, Watson, if you're willing to help." "I feel honored." "Then remember that the time is half past four. Until then, let's put this question aside. "I was staying at an apartment on Back Street, but by the appointed time, I had arrived at Baker Street. At half past four, Sir James came. There is probably no need to describe him, for many remember his cheerful and straightforward personality, his broad, shaved cheeks, and especially his cheerful, rounded tone. His gray Irish eyes showed sincerity and frankness. His expressionful smiling lips contain a witty sense of humor. His shiny top hat, his dark tuxedo, and every part of his body, from the beaded pins on his black satin tie to the lilac cover on his shiny leather shoes, all showed his famous habit of dressing. This tall and graceful nobleman completely dominated this small room.

　　"Of course, I am ready to meet Dr. Watson here," he said politely, "and his cooperation may be necessary, Mr. Holmes, for this time we are dealing with a man who is accustomed to using violence and has no scruples at all." I can say that he is the most dangerous man in all of Europe. "Several of my past rivals have enjoyed this honorific title," said Holmes with a smile, "you don't smoke?" Then allow me to light my pipe. If the man you are talking about is more dangerous than the late Professor Moriarty, or the now-living Colonel Sebastian Moran, he is worth a moment. Dare to ask his daimyo? "Have you heard of Baron Gruner?" "You mean the Austrian murderer?" Colonel Demerley raised his hands in lambskin gloves and burst out laughing. "There's yours! Nothing can be hidden from you, Mr. Holmes! So you've identified him as a murderer? "It's my business to focus on criminal cases on the mainland. Who would doubt the crimes of anyone who has read about the events in Prague? It was only because of a purely technical legal provision and the unexplained death of a witness that he was able to escape punishment! As soon as the so-called 'accident' happened in Splugan Gorge, I was sure he had killed his wife, as if I had seen it with my own eyes. I also knew he had come to England, and I had a hunch that sooner or later he would find me some work to do. So, what happened to Baron Gruner now? I guess this time it's not a repeat of this old tragedy, right? "No, this time it's more serious. While it is important to punish crimes, prevention in advance is particularly important. Mr. Holmes, it is terrible to watch a terrible event, a cruel scene brewing before your eyes, knowing what its consequences will cause and not being able to stop it. Is there anything more uncomfortable with a living person than being in such a position? "Then you will sympathize with this patron, I am here on his behalf." "I didn't expect you to be just an intermediary. Who is the principal? "Mr. Holmes, I have to ask you not to ask this question. I had to make sure that his name didn't implicate him in the case. His motives were absolutely noble and pure, but he refused to disclose his name. Of course, your honorarium is absolutely not a problem, and you are completely free to move. I guess the actual name of the patron is irrelevant, right? "I'm sorry," said Holmes, "that I am only accustomed to having a mystery at one end of the case, and it would be too confusing if both ends were mysteries. Sir James, I can only turn down this case. "The guests panicked. His cheerful, sensitive face grew gloomy with excitement and disappointment.

　　"Mr. Holmes, you don't know what the consequences of your doing so will be," he said, "and you have embarrassed me too much." I dare say that if I told you the truth, you would think that it was a matter of pride to have taken on this case. But my promise did not allow me and the tray to come out. At the very least, let me say everything I can say, okay? "All right, but one thing I must make clear is that I didn't promise you anything." Agreed. First of all, you must have heard of General de Melville, right? "Melville, famous at the Battle of Khyber?" Yes, I've heard of it. He had a daughter, Violet de Melville, young, rich, beautiful, versatile, and in every way an extremely rare woman. It was this daughter, this lovely and innocent girl, who we managed to rescue from the clutches of the devil. "That is to say, Baron Gruner probably controlled her?" "It's the most powerful control for a woman – the control of love." This fellow, you may have heard, was extremely pretty, charming, soft-spoken, and rich in the romantic and mysterious demeanor that women love. It is said that women were willing to listen to him, and he took full advantage of this. "But how can a man like him meet a woman of stature like Miss Violet?" "It was a yacht trip in the Mediterranean. At that time, although there were restrictions on tourists, they all paid for their own travel expenses. Apparently, the organizers did not know much about the baron's temperament, and it was too late to know. The villain entangled the young lady, and as a result, he won her heart completely and absolutely. It wasn't enough to say she was in love with him, she was infatuated with him; she was fascinated by him, as if there was no one else in the world but him. She wouldn't allow anyone to say bad things about him. We tried everything we could to cure her madness, but to no avail. Put simply, she plans to marry him next month. Since she was of legal age and of steely will, we really didn't know how to stop her. "Did she hear of that Austrian incident?" "This cunning devil has told her every social scandal of his past, but has always presented himself as an innocent victim. She believed his statement completely, and the words of others could not be listened to at all. "Oh my God! But you must have inadvertently revealed the name of your patron, right? It must have been General Melville. "The guests fidgeted.

　　"I could have followed your word and concealed it from you, but that's not the case.

　　Melville was devastated. The strong soldier had been deflated by the incident. His war-tested courage had been lost, and he had suddenly become a faltering old man, no longer had the energy to fight this beautiful and strong Austrian villain. But my patron was an old friend of the general's who had known her for many years, and had cared for her like a father since the general's daughter's childhood. He could not watch this tragedy unfold without trying to stop it. Scotland Yard can't intervene in such a thing. He personally proposed that you undertake this case, but, as I have just said, he made a special condition that he could not be involved in this case. I also know, Mr. Holmes, that by your power you can easily find out through me who my patron is; but I beg you to vouch for it with honor, and not to do so, not to break the mystery of this incognito. Holmes smiled strangely.

　　"I can vouch for that," he said. "I can also tell you that your case has intrigued me and that I am ready to proceed. But how do you keep in touch? "I can be found at Carlton Club. In case of an emergency, there is a secret phone number: '××.31'. Holmes wrote down the number, still smiling, and sat there with the open address book on his lap and asked, "May I ask the Baron what his current address is—" "The House of Ferno near Kingston is a great mansion." This guy didn't know what kind of speculation he had engaged in, and he was lucky enough to get rich, which naturally made him a more dangerous opponent. "Does he currently live at home?" "Yes." "In addition to that, can you provide something else about this person?" "He has some penitential hobbies. He loves to keep horses. At one point he often played polo in Heringham, but then word spread about his Prague incident and he had to leave. He also collects books and famous paintings. This person has a hobby for art. As far as I know, he is a recognized authority on Chinese ceramics and has written a book on this subject. "Complex talents," said Holmes, "famous criminals have such talents. My acquaintance, Charlie Pease, is a violinist, and Vinler is an unusual artist, along with many others. Well, Sir James, please inform your patron that I will proceed to study Baron Gruner. That's all I can say at the moment. I personally have some of my own sources of intelligence, and I'm sure we'll always find some way to open up the situation. After the guests had left, Holmes sat there for a long time in contemplation, as if he had forgotten my presence at last, when he suddenly woke up.

　　"How, Watson, what do you think?"

　　"I think you'd better meet this lady in person." "I said, dear Watson, think about it, if her poor old father with a broken heart can't impress her, can I be a stranger?" Of course, if there is no other way, this advice is worth trying. But I think we have to start from another angle. I think Hinver Johnson might be a little helpful. "In my Holmes memoirs, I haven't mentioned Hinwell Johnson as a person, because I rarely draw from my friend's late experiences. Johnson became a useful assistant to Holmes in the early 2000s. At first, Johnson was known as a very dangerous villain and served two sentences at Buckhurst Prison. Later he repented, defected to Holmes, and served as his eyes and ears in the London underworld, and the information he provided often proved to be extremely important. If Johnson had become a "spy" of the police, he would have been exposed long ago, but the cases he participated in were never directly in court, so his activities have not been recognized by his accomplices. Because of his reputation for having been sentenced twice, he had access to every nightclub, inn and casino in London at will, and with his keen observation and dexterity, he became an ideal agent for intelligence gathering. Now holmes was looking for him.

　　It was impossible for me to keep abreast of the steps my friend had taken at the time because I still had my own business that was in dire need of attention. But one night I was instructed to meet him at the Hinkissen restaurant. Sitting at a small table in front of the window, overlooking the bustling crowds on Stranstraße, he told me about some recent events.

　　"Johnson is moving around," he said. "Maybe he can get a little bit of news in the dark corners of the underworld, because only in the base camp of this kind of criminal can we find out the secrets of this person." "But since this young lady doesn't even believe in the facts that exist, how can you make her change her mind, whatever new discoveries you have?" "Who dares to say, Watson? The psychology of women is an incredible mystery to men. Murder may be justified or justified, but a small offense may be a sore point, and Baron Gruner said to me—" "Did he speak to you?!" "Oh, yes, I haven't told you my plan yet. Yeah, Watson, I like to be tightly tied up with my opponents. I like to see face-to-face what kind of goods he really is. After I had given instructions to Hinvert, I got into a carriage and headed straight for Kingston and met the cheerful Baron. "Does he recognize who you are?" "It wasn't hard because I handed over my business card. He is a brilliant adversary, calm as ice, gentle in tone, and as smooth as a consultant to your superior society, and sinister and vicious like a cobra. He was cultured, a true criminal aristocrat, covered with graveyard horrors beneath a shallow layer of social etiquette. Yes, I am indeed glad that someone has approached me against Baron Gruner. "You just said he was easy-going and talkative?" "Like a cat that has caught a rat whining contentedly." The kindness and chattiness of some people is much more terrifying than the cruelty of the temperamental. His greetings are unique.

　　'Mr. Holmes, I expected to see you sooner or later. He said, 'You were probably asked by General Melville to prevent me from marrying his daughter, right?' "I didn't deny it.

　　"'Sir,' he said, 'in doing so you will ruin your great name, which you would have lived up to, but you have no hope of success in this case.' You will waste your time, not to mention the dangers. I urge you to get out as soon as possible. "'Coincidentally,' I said, 'this is exactly the advice I was trying to give you. Mr. Baron, I have great respect for your intellect, and I have seen you in person today, and this respect has not diminished in the slightest. Allow me to say it politely. No one wants to shake out your past and make you uncomfortable. The past has passed, and you are now smooth sailing, but if you insist on this family affair, you will set up a large group of fierce enemies, who will never give up, and they will not let the British tolerate you. Is it worth it?

　　If you want to say the best policy, it is better to let go of your hand. If you pass on your past to her ears, it will be unpleasant for you. The baron had two handfuls of oily black whiskers under his nose, living like the tentacles of an insect, and as he listened to the words from above, the tentacles fluttered playfully, and finally he laughed softly.

　　"'Forgive me for my laughter, Mr. Holmes,' he said, 'but it is amusing to see that you have no cards in your hand and insist on gambling money.' I know no one is going to do it better, but it's all the same, and that's pathetic after all. Honestly, Mr. Holmes, you don't have a single flower card, only small and small cards. "'You think so.'" "'I know so. I made it clear, because my cards are so good that it doesn't hurt to tell people. I was fortunate to have received all the affection of this young lady, though I had told her every unfortunate incident of my past. I also told her that there might be someone with ulterior motives—I want you to be self-aware—to come and tell her how to deal with such people. You've probably heard of hypnotic hints, Mr. Holmes? Then you will see how this hint will work, and for a person with personality, hypnosis can be used without having to resort to vulgar means and boring practices. So she is prepared for you, and no doubt she will receive you, because she is very obedient to her father's will—except for that little thing. "You see, Watson, there's not much more to say, so I resigned as calmly and seriously as I could, but he stopped me as soon as my hand was on the doorknob.

　　"'By the way, Monsieur Holmes,' he said, 'Do you know Le Brun, the French detective?' "'Know.' "'Do you know what happened to him?' "'I heard he was injured by hooligans in montmartre and became permanently disabled.'" "'Exactly. Coincidentally, he had investigated my case before that week. Mr. Holmes, don't meddle in this matter, it is a hapless errand, and several people have already begged for their own troubles. My final advice to you is: You go your way and I go my way, and the two are irrelevant. Good bye! "You see, Watson, that's what happened, and now you know what's going on." "Looks like this guy is dangerous." "Very dangerous. I'm not afraid of him scaring people, but he's a first-class person who is dangerous and dangerous. "Can't you just leave this alone?" Does it really matter if he marries this girl or not? "Since he did murder his ex-wife, I think it's a big deal." And what an unusual patron! Okay, okay, let's not talk about that. After coffee, you'd better come home with me, because Hinwell is at home waiting to report to me. "Sure enough, we saw him, a burly, rude, red-faced, scurvy man, with only those angry black eyes as the only sign of his inner cunning mind. It seemed as if he had just jumped into his peculiar world, and brought out a figure, the slender, impatient young woman sitting beside him, her face pale and nervous, and though she was young, she revealed the haggard caused by decadence and sorrow, and made one see at a glance the scars of the terrible years on her face.

　　"This is Miss Kitty Winder," Hinwell waved his fat hand, which counted as an introduction.

　　"There's nothing she doesn't know—well, let's talk about it herself." Within an hour of receiving your note, I arrested her. "I am easy to find," said the young woman, "and I am always in hell in London. Fat Hinwell is also at this address. We're old buddies, fat guys. But, fuck! There is such a person who should go down to the nineteenth level of hell, if there is still a little justice in the world! He's the man you're dealing with, Mr. Holmes. Holmes smiled slightly. I see you sympathizing with us, Miss Winder. "If I can help get him to the end he deserves, then I'll follow you," the female guest gritted her teeth. There was an extremely intense hatred in her pale, eager face and fire-like eyes, a hatred that men could never attain, and which only a very few women could attain. "Mr. Holmes, you don't need to inquire about my past, that's irrelevant. But the way I look now is entirely the result of Gruner for me. I wish I could pull him off the horse!" "She clutched her hands like crazy into the air." Oh my God, how nice it would be if I could pull him into the abyss of how many people he pushed down! "You know what's going on, don't you?" "The fat man has already told me. This time the guy was going to do something to another idiot and marry her. You're trying to stop that. Of course you know this villain very well, and you must not let any innocent girl who is in good spirits come into contact with him. But she wasn't mentally normal. She fell madly in love with him. Everything about him had been told to her, but she didn't care about anything. "Know about that murder?" "I know." "Oh my God, she's so bold!" "She thinks it's all slander." "Why don't you put the evidence under this idiot's nose and let her see?" "That said, can you help us do this?" "Am I not living evidence?" If I stood in front of her and told her how that person had treated me—" "Will you do that?" "Why not?" "Well, you can try it." However, he had confessed his sins to her himself, and had already received her forgiveness, and I don't think she would come back to talk about it. "I bet he would never have told her everything," said Miss Winder, "and I have heard a little bit of his other murder or two apart from that sensational murder." He always spoke of so-and-so in his usual soft tone, and then looked me in the eye and said, 'Within a month he was dead.' These are not empty words. But I didn't care about anything—you see, I was in love with him at that time. Then he behaved to me as if he were to this poor fool at the moment!

　　But there was one thing that shook me. yes. My God, if it weren't for his cunning and sweet mouth desperately trying to explain and comfort me, I would have left him that night. It was a diary book—a yellow-skinned book with a lock and his gold family crest on the outside. I saw that he was eighty percent drunk that night, or he would never have shown me that thing. "What the hell is it?" "I tell you, Mr. Holmes, this guy collects women, and is proud of it, just as someone collects butterfly specimens. He put everything in that book, like pieces, names, details, everything about these women. It is a record of the most lewd bestiality, and no human being, not even a man from a slum, could do such a thing. But despite this, Adelbert Grunaer had such a record book. 'The soul I have destroyed', he could have inscribed something like this on the skin of a book, as long as he was willing to do so. However, this is all off-topic, because this book is useless to you, and even if it is useful, you will not get it. "Where is it?" "How can I tell you where it is now?" I've been away from him for more than a year. All I know is where it was placed. He was in many ways like a neat and delicate cat, so perhaps it is still kept in the compartment of an old cabinet in the inner study. Do you know his residence? "I've been to his study." "Really? Since you started this work this morning, your progress is really fast enough. I think this time Gruner has met an opponent. The outer study was the room with Chinese porcelain—there was a large glass cabinet between the two windows. Behind his bookcase there was a door leading straight to the inner study, a small room where he kept documents and other things. "Isn't he afraid of theft?" "He's not a timid man. Even the enemies who hated him the most would not say such a thing about him. He has the ability to defend himself. Anti-theft alarm bell at night. Besides, what's there to steal unless you steal useless porcelain? "It's really useless," Hinwell said arbitrarily in an expert tone. No one who buys stolen goods wants such goods, which can neither melt nor be sold. "Yes," said Holmes. Well, Miss Winder, if tomorrow at five o'clock in the afternoon you can come here for a visit, and I will consider whether to arrange for you to meet this young lady on your suggestion. I am very grateful for your cooperation. "Needless to say, of course, my patron will consider generously..." "Needless, Monsieur Holmes," said the young woman aloud, "I am not here for money. I'll get the best reward for just letting me see this guy fall into a pile of — falling in a pile of and having my foot in his face.

　　That's my salary. As long as you're tracking him, I can come tomorrow or any day. The fat man can tell you where I am. "I didn't see Holmes again until the next evening when we were eating again in the restaurant on Strand avenue. I asked him how the meeting was going, and he shrugged his shoulders. Then he told me what had happened, and I recorded it below. His narrative is a bit blunt and simple, and it needs a little editing to show the way life is.

　　"There was no obstacle in arranging the meeting," said Holmes, "for this young lady, in order to make up for her failure to obey her father in the matters of her life, tried to show obedience to her father in secondary matters." The general called to say that everything was ready, and that the fiery Miss Winder had arrived on time, and at half past five in the afternoon a carriage took us to the old general's residence, 104 Berkeley Square. It was a majestic, intimidating grey Castle of London that looked more solemn than a church. The servant led me into a large reception room with yellow curtains, where the lady was waiting for us, solemn, pale, and calm, as cold as a snowman in the mountains.

　　"Watson, I find it hard to describe to you what she looks like, and maybe you can see her before this case is over, and then you can use your vocabulary." She was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a fairy peculiar to a mad believer who thought of the upper realm. I have seen such faces in the paintings of medieval masters. I can't imagine how an animal-like rogue could put his paws on such a person who belonged to the upper realm. You probably have already discovered the phenomenon of mutual attraction between the two extremes of the opposite, such as the attraction of the spirit to the body and the attraction of the barbarian to the angels. But you would never see anything worse than the current situation.

　　"Of course she already knew what we meant—the rogue had already given her a preventive shot. Miss Winder's presence seemed to surprise her a little, but she waved us down, as if the venerable convent were receiving two men asking for food. Watson, if your head wants to swell, learn from Miss Violet de Melville.

　　"'Sir,' she said in a voice that seemed to come from an iceberg, 'your name is well known to me. As I understand it, you have come to alienate me and my fiancé, Baron Gruner. I only received you in obedience to my Father's commandments, and I have words first, and nothing you can say can affect me in the slightest. "Watson, I feel sorry for her. I felt for her like I was feeling for my own daughter. I'm not a good rhetorical person. I use the mind, not the emotions. But that day I really used all the beautiful words that came from my heart to her. I described to her how horrible a woman who discovers the truth about a man after marriage is in, and she has to succumb to the embrace of her blood-stained hands. I hid nothing from her —the humiliation of the future, the horror, the pain, the despair, and so on. But all my eager words failed to add a trace of blood to her ivory cheeks, not to give a trace of emotion in her dazed gaze. I remembered what the rogue said about the hypnotic state. She really felt like she was living in a frenetic dream far away from the hustle and bustle. But her answer was decisive.

　　"'I have listened patiently to you, Mr. Holmes,' she said, 'but it has worked for me exactly as expected.' I know that my fiancé, Adelbert, had a life of twists and turns that caused some intense hatred and unfair slander. There is a chain of people who have come here to slander, and you are the last slanderer. Maybe you're well-intentioned, but I've heard that you're a hired detective, and opposing a baron is the same for you as being employed by a baron. But anyway, I want you to figure it out this time alone: I love him, he loves me, and the opinions of the whole world are deaf to me.

　　If his noble temperament occasionally deviates from the slightest, I may have been sent by God to help him restore his true nobility. But 'at this point her eyes fell on my companion,' and I don't know who this young lady is. I was just about to answer, but the girl opened her mouth like a whirlwind. If you want to see what it's like to face ice and fire, look at these two women.

　　"'Let me tell you who I am,' she jumped up from her chair at once, her mouth crooked in anger, 'I am his last mistress.' I am one of hundreds of people whom he has seduced, used, trampled, and thrown into the garbage heap, just as he was about to do to you. Your personal destination is likely to be a grave, and perhaps that is the best. I tell you, stupid woman, if you marry this man, he will kill you. Maybe it breaks your heart, maybe it kills you, and he brings you either this path or that path. I didn't say this out of affection for you, I don't care if you die or not. I was purely out of hatred for him, out of revenge, how he treated me and how I treated him. But horizontally and vertically, and you don't have to stare at me like this, my eldest lady, in three and a half days you may become less valuable than I am. "'I don't think there's any need to talk about it anymore,' said Mademoiselle de Melville coldly. My last words were that I knew that my fiancé had been pestered by devious women three times in his life, and I was sure that he had sincerely repented even if he had done anything wrong. ''Three times!' My companion screamed, 'You fool! Double-material fool! "'Monsieur Holmes,' said the cold voice, 'I beg you to conclude this meeting. I have come to receive you according to my Father's command, but I have not come to hear the cries. Miss Winder scurried forward with a scolding in her mouth, and if I hadn't rushed up and grabbed her wrist, she would have grabbed the irritating woman's hair. I pulled her to the door, and luckily, I didn't have to make a big fuss to get her into the carriage. To tell you the truth, Watson, although calm on the surface, I am also very angry, because there is really something offensive in the extreme confidence and calmness of the woman we want to save. That's what happened, and now you understand it.

　　It seems that I have to find another way, because the first trick has been missed. I'll keep in touch with you, Watson, and maybe I'll use you again. But maybe the next step is for them to go, not us. "Indeed. Their blow came—it should be said that he struck, for I never believed that the lady was involved in it. I still vividly remember which square brick I was standing on that day, where my eyes fell on a billboard, and a wave of terror flowed through my heart. It was between the Grand Hotel and Charing Cross Street station, where a one-legged newspaper seller was displaying his evening newspaper. The date was exactly two days after the last meeting. The black letters on a yellow background wrote the terrible headline: Holmes was murdered, and I remember standing there for a while. Then I remember in a panic grabbing a newspaper, forgetting to pay, and being reprimanded by the newspaper seller, and finally I stood at the door of a pharmacy and found the terrible telegram that read: We regret to learn that the famous private detective, Mr. Holmes, was in a critical condition this morning. As of recent details, the incident is rumored to have occurred outside the Royal Café on Riking Avenue at around 12:00 p.m. Mr. Holmes was attacked by two stick-bearers and was hit in the head and on the body, and according to doctors, the injuries were very serious. He was immediately admitted to Charing Cross Street Hospital and then, at his own insistence, returned to his home on Baker Street. The attackers, seemingly well-dressed, escaped from the crowd through the Royal Café towards Glashaus Street. It is estimated that the murderer belongs to the criminal group that has been repeatedly cracked by Holmes's shrewd investigation.

　　Needless to say, I just glanced at the news and jumped into a carriage and headed straight for Baker Street. In the foyer I met the famous surgeon Sir Leslie Okhoter, whose carriage was parked outside the door.

　　"There is no immediate danger," he replied, "there are two scalp lacerations and several severe bruises." Already had a few stitches, had morphine, and should have rested quietly, but a few minutes of conversation didn't matter much. So I gently walked into the dark bedroom. The patient was completely awake, and I heard a faint mute voice calling my name. The curtains were drawn three-quarters of the way down, but a ray of slanting sun shot in and shone on the bandaged head. A red trail of blood soaked through the white gauze. I sat down next to him, my head hanging down.

　　"Well, Watson, don't be so afraid," his voice was weak, "the situation is not as serious as it seems. "Thank goodness! I hope so! "You know, I'm a stick sportsman. I'm full of deals with that guy. The second person came up and I couldn't resist. "What can I do for you, Sherlock Holmes?" Of course the bad guy instigated them to do it. As soon as there is you, I will immediately peel his skin! "Good Watson, my old fellow! We can't do that, we can only arrest them by the police. But they are long ready to escape justice, and we can be sure of that. Look, I have my plans. First of all, try to exaggerate my injuries. They'll come to you to inquire about the news, and you're going to blow it up. What can live for a week is lucky, concussion, unconsciousness - whatever you want! The more serious it is, the better. "But what about Sir Leslie Oakhort?" "He's easy to do there. He's going to see my worst case, and I'll figure out a way. "Am I going to do anything else?" "Yes. Tell Hinwell Johnson to tell the girl to hide, and the guys are going to get her in trouble. Of course they knew she was my assistant in this case. Since they dared to move me, it seemed that they would not ignore her. This matter is urgent, and it will be done tonight. "I'll go right away." What else is going on? "Put my pipe on the table—and the slippers for the tobacco leaves." Good! Come here every morning and we will discuss the battle plan. "That night Johnson and I immediately arranged to send Miss Winder to the remote suburbs for shelter.

　　For six days the public thought Holmes was on the verge of death. The report on the condition was very serious, and the newspapers carried some ominous reports. But my daily succession of visits convinced me that things weren't that bad. His strong body and strong will are working wonders. He recovered quickly, and sometimes I guessed that he actually felt recovering faster than he had pretended to be me. This man has a secretive temper that often causes dramatic effects, but often makes even his closest friends have to guess what he really thinks. He took this maxim to the extreme: only those who plan alone are safe planners. I'm closer to him than anyone else, but I still often feel a estrangement between me and him.

　　By the seventh day the wound had been stitched, but the newspaper reported that he had erysipelas.

　　On the evening of the same day there was a message in the evening newspaper that I had to tell him, whether he was really sick or fake, and the news simply reported that on Friday the passenger list of the Cunard steamship Luritania, which had been driven by Liverpool, included Baron Adelbert Gruner, who would be going to the United States to take care of important property matters, and would return to hold a wedding ceremony with Miss Violet de Melville, the only daughter, and so on. As I read the message, Holmes's pale face showed a cold, preoccupied look, and I knew he had been hit.

　　"Friday?!" He said out loud. "There are only three full days left. I think this villain is trying to get out of danger. But he couldn't run, Watson! I can't keep him running! Now, Watson, please do something for me. "I'm here for you, Sherlock Holmes." "Well, please spend twenty-four hours from now on studying Chinese porcelain wholeheartedly." He didn't give any explanation, and I didn't ask any questions. Long experience has taught me obedience. But as I left his room and walked down Baker Street, my mind began to wonder how I could carry out such a bizarre order. So I drove to the London Library in St. James's Square, gave the question to my friend Lomax Deputy Caretaker, and then I returned to my residence with a rather large book.

　　It is said that the lawyer who carefully wrote down the facts of the case and was able to question witnesses on Monday forgot everything he had barely learned before Saturday. Of course, I dare not claim to be an authority on ceramics, but that whole night, plus a whole night (except for a short break in between), and a whole morning the next day, I was indeed diligently memorizing a large number of nouns. There I remembered the seals of famous pottery artists, the mysterious Jiazi Chronology, the signs of Hongwu and Yongle, the calligraphy of Tang Yin, and the heyday of the Song and Yuan dynasties. When I came to see Holmes the next night, my mind was filled with all this knowledge. He's already walking around the ground, though it's impossible to guess from the newspaper reports. He held his bandaged head in his hands and sat deep in the easy chair he used to sit in.

　　"Drink, Sherlock Holmes," I said, "if you believe what the newspaper says, you're panting." "Well," he said, "that's exactly the impression I'm going to make." How's it going, how are your learning outcomes? "At least I've done my best." "That's good. Can you probably have an expert conversation on this subject? "I think it's okay." "Then please bring me the little box on the mantelpiece." He opened the lid of the cassette and took out a small object tightly wrapped in oriental silk.

　　He opened the package again, revealing an extremely delicate, dark blue saucer.

　　"This thing must be carefully held by hand. This is a real Ming Dynasty carved porcelain, and even there is no better piece in the Christie market, one (1) whole set is worth a fortune - but in fact, it is difficult to say whether there is a whole set other than the Forbidden City in Beijing. True collectors don't blush when they see this stuff. "What am I doing with it?" Holmes handed me a business card with the inscription: "Dr. Hill Barton, 369 Half Moon Street." "That's your name tonight, Watson. You will go to visit Baron Gruner.

　　I knew a little of his habits, and he was free at about eight o'clock in the evening. Thing (1) Christie's Market was a regular seller of art in London at that time - Shuxiang Mendi http://holmes.126.com note that you can write him a letter telling him that you are going to visit and tell him that you will bring him a rare piece of Ming Dynasty porcelain. It's better to call yourself a doctor, a role you can play realistically. Let's just say you're a collector and happen to get this set of treasures. You have heard that the Baron has a fondness in this regard, and you are not against selling this batch of porcelain at a high price. "What price?" "Well asked, Watson. If you don't know the price of your own goods, you're a big failure. This plate was brought to me by Sir James, and it was his patron's collection. If it is unparalleled in the world, it is not an exaggeration. "I can propose that the experts do the valuation." "So high! Watson, you are really inspired today. Can bring up Christie or something. It's not good to raise the price yourself. "What if he won't see me?" "Yes, he will meet you, and his collecting fanaticism has reached a very strong point, especially in this respect, and he is a recognized authority in this regard. You sit down, Watson, I come to read the contents of the letter, without asking for a reply, just stating that you are going to visit and explaining the reason for the visit. The letter was very well written, short, courteous, and appealing to the curiosity of the collector. Immediately sent a street messenger to send it. That night, armed with a precious tea dish and Dr. Patton's business card, I ventured forward.

　　The magnificence of the residential gardens does indicate that Gruner is quite wealthy, as Sir James put it. A winding corridor lined with precious shrubs leads to a garden decorated with statues. Originally built by a South African gold miner in his heyday, the long, low-rise house with corner towers is architecturally gloomy as a nightmare, but in terms of its size and solidity, it is considerable. A butler with good looks who could bestow the bishop's seat led me to the hall and handed me over to a male servant in a splendid plush dress, who then brought me before the baron.

　　He was standing in front of a large open cabinet between two windows, with parts of his Chinese ceramics. When I entered the house, he turned around with a brown vase in his hand.

　　"Doctor, please sit down," he said, "I'm going through my own collection, and I don't know if I can afford to pay a high price to add to the treasure." You see, this little vase is from the Tang Dynasty, a seventh-century antiquity, and you may have some interest. I believe this is the finest handmade and the most beautiful enamel. Did you say that Ming Dynasty dish was brought? I carefully opened the package and handed it to him. He sat down at his desk and drew the light closer, and as it was getting darker, he began to appreciate it carefully. At this time, the yellow light shone on his face, and I could calmly examine his appearance.

　　He was indeed a very beautiful man. His reputation as a beautiful man in Europe is indeed not a myth. He is of medium stature, but elegant and flexible.

　　His face was dark, similar to that of an Oriental, with large dark, tired eyes, and the allure of the opposite sex. His sideburns were jet black, his whiskers were short and pointed, and his oil was neatly decorated. His facial features are upright and pleasing to the eye, with the exception of his thin lips. If I had ever seen the mouth of a murderer, it would be here—it would have been a cold and murderous incision in the face, tight, cold, and intimidating. It would be unwise for him to raise the corners of his whiskers upwards to reveal the corners of his mouth, for this became a natural warning of danger and alerted the victim. He had a gentle voice and a gentlemanly demeanor. In terms of age, I saw him in his early thirties, but afterwards I knew he was forty-two.

　　"It's so good—it's so good!" He finally spoke up, "You mean you have six sets. The strange thing is that I have never heard of such a remarkable treasure. I know there's only one in the UK that can match it, but that's never going to hit the market. If you don't see the blame, Dr. Barton, dare you ask how you got it? "That doesn't matter much, does it?" I said in a tone of indifference that I could make. "Anyway, you can see that it is genuine, and in terms of price, I listen to experts." "It's so mysterious," his big dark eyes flashed with disbelief. "To make a deal on such a precious thing level, I certainly want to know all the specifics of it. It is indeed genuine, and I have no doubt about that. But – and I must estimate every possible scenario – what if it turns out that you have no right to sell it? "I promise there won't be such a thing." "This naturally raises another question, which is what value your assurances are worth." "My credit bank is responsible for this." "That's natural. But the deal still strikes me as too bizarre. "I think of you first because I know you are a famous connoisseur, but I will not have difficulty in closing the deal elsewhere." "Who told you I was a connoisseur?" "I know you've written a book on this." "Have you read that book?" "Nothing." "Dude, this makes me more and more confused! How do you explain that you claim to be a connoisseur and collector of rare treasures, and you don't bother to look up the only work that tells you the value of your own treasures? "I'm a busy person, I'm a practicing doctor." This is the answer to the question. If a person really has a habit, he will always find time to study, no matter what other business he has. And you say in your letter that you are a connoisseur. "I'm a connoisseur." "Can I ask you a few questions to try you?" I have to tell you the truth, the doctors— if you really are — are getting more and more suspicious. Do you know Emperor Shengmu and his relationship with Shokura-in Temple near Nara? How, do you feel dazed? So please tell us about the position of the Northern Wei In the history of ceramics. I pretended to jump up in anger.

　　"Sir, this is too much," I said, "I'm here to give you face, not when the little kid is being tested by you." My knowledge of ceramics may be second only to yours, but I can't answer such a rude question. He stared at me. The laziness in his eyes was completely gone. His gaze sharpened suddenly, and teeth flashed between his murderous lips.

　　"What are you doing?" You are a traitor. You are a spy of Holmes. You're fooling me. I heard that this guy was breathing, so he sent a spy to touch my bottom. You broke into my house without permission. Wow! It's easy for you to come in, it's hard to get out! He jumped up from his chair, and I took a step back to prepare him to rush up, for he was already furious. Maybe he was suspicious of me at the beginning, maybe the question made me show my feet, but in short, nothing else was obvious. He reached into a small drawer and frantically rummaged through it. At this moment, something came to his ears, and he stood there and listened.

　　"Wow!" He shouted, "Wow! He swooped into the hut behind him.

　　I jumped to the door with an arrow. It was a sight I will never forget in my lifetime. The large window leading to the garden was wide open, and in front of it Holmes stood like a ghost, his head covered in bloodstained bandages, his face pale. In the blink of an eye he was gone, and I heard the sound of his body rubbing the leaves. The owner of the house roared and rushed to the window.

　　Speaking late and fast, I could see clearly, and suddenly an arm—a woman's arm—was stretched out of the bushes. At the same time, only a terrible scream from the Baron was heard—a cry that will remain in my memory forever. He ran around the house with his hands clasped around his face, his head slamming against the wall. Then he fell to the carpet and rolled around, and a scream echoed through the room.

　　"Water! Look at the face of God, take the water! He shouted.

　　I grabbed a water bottle from the coffee table and ran toward him. At this time, the butler and several male servants also arrived. When I knelt down on one leg and turned the wounded man's face toward the light, one of the servants fainted. Sulfuric acid had corroded the entire face, dripping down from the ears and chin. One eye was already covered with white, and the other was red and swollen. The facial features that I admired a few minutes ago have now been erased like a wonderful oil painting by the painter with a coarse sponge. They are blurred, discolored, out of human form, and unusually frightening.

　　I will briefly explain the case of the injection of sulfuric acid that just happened. A few servants climbed up the window, and some had rushed to the grass, but it was getting dark and it was raining again. The wounded man screamed and cursed the sulped avenger.

　　"She's that witch Winder!" He shouted, "This devil, she can't run!" Can't run! Oh my goodness, it hurts me" I put oil on his face, bandaged him, and got a morphine injection. In the face of this calamity, his suspicions about me were completely dispelled, and he held my hand tightly as if I could have the strength to save his dead fish-like eyes. If I hadn't thought of other self-inflicted sins, I might have shed tears of sympathy for the destruction of such beauty. At this point I was disgusted by his hot palms, so I was relieved when his family doctor and consultant came to replace me. There was also a police inspector, and I handed him my real business card. Not only would it be foolish not to do so, but it would also be useless, for Scotland Yard was almost as familiar to me as it was to Sherlock Holmes. Then I left this eerie house. In less than an hour I reached Baker Street.

　　Holmes was sitting in the easy chair he usually sat in, pale and tired not only because of his wounds, but also by his steely nerves, and he listened in horror to me recounting the Baron's metamorphosis.

　　"This is the price of sin, Watson, purely the price of sin!" he said.

　　"Sooner or later it will end. God knows, this man is full of evil," he added. Then he picked up a yellow notebook from the table. "That's what the woman said about the book. If this book can't dispel this marriage, then there is probably nothing in the world that can do anything. But this book can achieve the goal, it must be achieved. This is something that any woman with a little self-esteem cannot tolerate. "Is this his love diary?" "Or call it his diary of fornication, whatever you want." When the woman first mentioned the diary, I already knew it was a potent weapon, as long as we could get it. I didn't say anything at the time, because this woman might be out of the blue. But I've been thinking about it. Later they wounded me, giving me the opportunity to make the Baron think there was no need to guard me. It's all advantageous. I had planned to wait a few more days, but his visit to the United States accelerated my actions. He would never leave such revealing documents at home. So we have to act now. It was impossible to steal it at night, and he was very guarded. But if you can suck his attention in the evening, it's a good opportunity. Here's where you and your blue tea saucer are used. But I have to figure out where this book is placed. I know I only have a few minutes to act, because my time is limited by your knowledge of ceramics. So, at the last minute I got this girl. How would I know what the little bag she was secretly hiding in her arms was? I thought she had come for my mission, who would have thought she would have had her own special mission. "He already guessed that I was sent by you." "Just afraid of this. But you've been pestering him long enough for me to get my diary, just not enough for me to escape safely. - Sir James, Welcome, Welcome! "This courteous guest has been invited. He had been there listening intently to Holmes's account of what had happened.

　　"You have really created a miracle, a miracle without compromise!" He said after listening. "But if the injury is as serious as Dr. Watson said, we can cancel the marriage without a diary." Holmes shook his head.

　　"Women like de Melville don't do that. She would only love him more as a ruined martyr. No, it's not his appearance, it's his morality, that's what we're going to destroy. This diary will awaken her, and I see that it is the only thing in the world that can calm her down. It was his own diary, and she would have believed it. "Sir James took away the diary and the precious tea plate. Since I still had my own business to do, I went out into the street with him. A horse-drawn carriage was waiting. He jumped into the car, hurriedly uttered a word to the driver wearing the hat badge, and hurried off.

　　He hung half of his coat from the window to cover the family crest on the trunk, but I could already see it through the light from an air window. Taken aback, I turned and ran upstairs back to Holmes's room.

　　"I've found out who our patron is," I gleefully reported my new news. "Who are you, it turns out to be—" "A faithful friend and a generous gentleman," Holmes raised his hand to stop me. "Needless to say." I don't know how this diary of exposing sin was exploited. It may have been Done by Sir James, or it is more likely that this little thing to handle was left to the father of the young lady. All in all, the results were perfect. Three days later, a message appeared in the morning newspaper that the wedding of Baron Adelbert Gruner and Miss Violet, Mademoiselle de Melville, had been cancelled. The same newspaper also carried the first court session of the Criminal Court against Miss Kitty Winder, who was seriously charged with acid injection. However, in the course of the interrogation, extenuating circumstances were developed, and only the lightest sentence for such crimes was awarded. Sherlock Holmes was threatened with theft charges, but since the purpose was good and the patron was prominent, even the iron-faced and selfless English court became flexible and humane. He was never summoned. ------

　　vampire

　　Holmes read carefully a letter he had just received, and then, with a silent laugh—which was his attitude most close to laughter—threw it at me.

　　"As a mixture of modern and medieval, practical and whimsical, this letter is home," he said. "What do you think, Watson?"

　　I read:

　　Old Yingsui Road No. 46 January 19

　　Vampire facts

　　Trail Initiator:

　　Our customer, Mr. Robert Ferguson of the Ferguson-Millhead Tea Distribution Company on Min hing Street, wrote today to inquire about vampires. Since our shop specializes in mechanical valuation business, this is not within the scope of our business, so we introduced Mr. Ferguson to visit Taiwan to solve problems. The foot undertook the Case of Matilda Briggs, which was successful, so it was introduced.

　　Morrison, Morrison-Dowd

　　The person in charge, E.J.C.

　　"Matilda was not the maiden's name," Holmes recalled, "and it was a ship, associated with the giant rats of Sumatra, a story that would surprise the public." But what do we have to do with vampires? Is that our business scope? Of course, no matter what the case is, it is better than being idle. But this time we suddenly entered the Grimm fairy tale. Watson, raise your hand and check the letter V to see what it says. ”

　　I turned around and took the big index and gave it to him to turn over. Holmes placed the book in his lap, and his eyes slowly and happily consulted the ancient records, which were mixed with the knowledge he had accumulated throughout his life.

　　"The voyage of the Gloria Scott," he read, "this case is quite bad. I remember you made some notes, but it didn't end well. Counterfeiter Victor Lynch. Poison lizard. This is an amazing case. Female circus actress Vittoria. Vanderbilt and the Burglars. viper. Strange Forge Weigel. Ha! My old index. It's yours, it's all-encompassing. Watson, you listen to this. Hungarian vampire witchcraft. Also, the vampire case in Transylvania. He flipped through it enthusiastically for half a day, then snorted in disappointment and threw the book on the table.

　　, Watson, this is all bullshit! What does the kind of zombie that has to be nailed to the grave with a splint to not come out and walk around has to do with us? Pure insanity. ”

　　"But," I said, "maybe vampires aren't necessarily dead?" Living people can also have the habit of sucking blood. For example, I read in the book that some old people suck the blood of young people to maintain their youth. ”

　　"You're quite right, this kind of legend is mentioned in this index. But can we believe such a thing? This agent is standing on the earth on two feet, so he can't leave the earth. This world is big enough for us, and there is no need to intervene in the ghost domain. In my opinion, I can't believe Ferguson's words too much. The following letter may have been written by him, and may give a little explanation of what is the problem that bothers him. ”

　　As he spoke he picked up another letter from the table, which went unnoticed as he concentrated on the first one. He began to read the letter with a smile, and as he read it, his smile turned into a look of concentration and nervousness. After reading it, he leaned back in his chair and meditated, the letter between his fingers. Later, he was shocked and woke up from deep thought.

　　"Lamberley, Chisman Manor. Watson, where is Lamberley? ”

　　"In Sussex, just south of Holsham."

　　"Not very far, right? What about Chisman Manor? ”

　　"I'm more familiar with the countryside. There were many old dwellings there, all named after the surnames of the original owners centuries ago, what Audley Manor, Harvey Manor, Kellipton Manor, etc. those families have long been forgotten, but their surnames have been preserved through the house. ”

　　"Not bad," said Holmes coldly. One of the characteristics of his proud and self-controlled temperament is that, although he often quietly and accurately packs all new knowledge into his head, he rarely expresses gratitude to the provider of knowledge. "I think soon we'll know more about Chisman Manor. The letter was written by Ferguson himself, as I had expected. By the way, he also claimed to know you. ”

　　"What, know me?!"

　　"Read the letter for yourself."

　　He said and handed over the letter. The letter began with the address he had just read. I read:

　　Mr. Holmes:

　　My lawyer introduced me to you, but my question was too sensitive to start. I'm here to talk about him on behalf of a friend. The gentleman married five years ago to a Peruvian lady, the daughter of a Peruvian businessman, whom my friend met in the course of running an imported nitric acid. She was beautiful, but differences in nationality and religion always created an emotional and de facto separation between the couple. As a result, after some time, his feelings for her may have cooled down, and he may have thought that the marriage was a mistake. He felt that there was something in her character that he could never have elusively and understand. This is particularly painful, because she is really a rare warm and lovely wife who loves her husband absolutely faithfully in every way.

　　Now let me talk about the main issues, and I will interview you in detail. This letter is just a brief outline so that you can determine whether you are interested in undertaking the matter. Not long ago, the lady began to show some strange faults that were quite incompatible with her gentle nature. The gentleman had been married twice, and he had a son of a previous life. The boy was fifteen years old, and he was a very likable and affectionate child, but unfortunately he had been traumatized as a child. Twice, it was discovered that the stepmother had beaten the poor boy for no reason. One was to hit him with a cane, leaving a large bruise on his arm.

　　And that's not all, her behavior toward her own young son, who was less than a year old, was much more serious. About a month ago, there was a babysitter who left the baby for a few minutes to do something else. Suddenly the baby began to cry, and the nanny ran back quickly, and as soon as she entered the house, she saw the hostess bending over as if she were biting the child's neck. There was a small wound on the neck, bleeding outward. The nanny was frightened and immediately went to call the man, but the hostess begged her not to go and gave her five pounds to keep it a secret. The hostess didn't give any explanation, and the matter was put on hold.

　　But this incident left a terrible impression on the nanny's mind, and from then on she paid close attention to the actions of the hostess, and was more attentive to guarding the baby, because she really loved the child. But she felt that, just as she was spying on her mother, she was watching her, and as soon as she left the baby, the mother rushed to the child. The nanny guards the baby day and night, while the mother stares at the baby day and night like a wolf and a sheep. This must be unbelievable to you, but I beg you to take my account seriously, for the life and death of a baby can also cause a man's insanity.

　　Finally one day the truth could not be hidden from the husband. The nanny's nerves could not support it, and she confessed everything to the man. To him, it was whimsical, just as you feel right now. He knew that his wife loved him, and he had always loved his stepson except for the beating. How could she hurt her own child? So he told the nanny that it was all her hallucination, that this paranoia was abnormal, and that her slander of the hostess was intolerable. In the middle of their conversation, the baby suddenly heard howling in pain. The nanny and the man ran together to the nursery. His wife had just risen from the cradle, the baby's neck bleeding and the sheets stained with blood. Imagine his mood, Mr. Holmes. When he turned his wife's face to the light and found blood all around her lips, he cried out in horror. It turned out to be her—and this time there was no doubt—that she had sucked the blood of a poor baby.

　　That is the reality. She is now locked up in the house and no one is seen. No explanation was given. The husband is already in a semi-crazy state. He and I could say they knew nothing about such things except that they had only heard of the name vampire. We thought it was a foreign talk, but who knows, sussex, England — or tomorrow morning. Can you host me? Can you help someone who is on the verge of insanity? If you don't give up, please call Lamberley, Chisman Manor, Ferguson. I will be at your accommodation at ten o'clock in the morning.

　　Robert Ferguson

　　And then: I remember your friend Watson was a member of the Blackheath rugby team and I was a centre-back for Richmond. In terms of personal interactions, this is the only self-introduction I can propose.

　　"Yes, I remember this man," I said as I put down the letter. "Big Bob Ferguson, he's the best centre-back in Richmond. He was a kind man. Now he was so concerned about his friend's affairs, and this man's temper was so warm-hearted. ”

　　Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head.

　　"Watson, I always can't get your thoughts," he said. "You always have some thoughts that surprise me. Well, please go and shoot a telegram that says: 'Agree to take on your case'. ”

　　"Your case!"

　　"We can't let him think it's a detective who lacks intelligence. This, of course, is his own case. Please send the telegram, and you will know by tomorrow morning. ”

　　At ten o'clock the next morning, Ferguson strode into our room on time. In my memory, he was a slender, agile man, fast at moving and good at bypassing the interceptions of opposing defenders. Probably on the road of life, there is nothing more difficult than this, and that is to see a strong athlete you knew in his heyday, and now he has become a bone. The large skeleton of Ferguson had collapsed, his shoulders were hanging low, and his pale yellow hair had thinned out. I'm afraid I left him with a similar impression.

　　"Hi Watson, hello," he said. His tone was still so deep and enthusiastic. "I said, 'You're not the skeleton of the time I threw you through the rope into the crowd.' I've probably changed a bit. It's only recently that I've seen the old ones. I can see from your telegram, Mr. Holmes, that I can no longer pretend to be an agent of others. ”

　　"It's better to tell the truth," said Holmes.

　　"Nature is so. But think about how hard it is to talk about a woman you have to maintain. What can I do? Did I go to the police to tell me about it? And I have to take care of the safety of my children. Tell me, Mr. Holmes, is that mental illness? Is it inherited from the bloodline? Have you ever experienced a similar case? Look at the face of God, please help me, I have no opinion. ”

　　"It's understandable, Mr. Ferguson. Please sit down, set god, and answer my questions clearly. I can assure you that I am not helpless about your case, and I am confident that I can find the answer. First of all, please tell me, what steps have you taken, do you still have contact with children? ”

　　"I had a big argument with her. Mr. Holmes, she was an extremely gentle and affectionate woman. She truly loved me with all her heart. Seeing that I had discovered this terrible, unbelievable secret, she was heartbroken to the extreme. She didn't even say a word, didn't answer my rebuke at all, just stared at me with a look of panic and despair, stared at me, and then turned and ran back to her room and locked the door. Since then, she has never seen me again. She had a dowry maid named Dolores, who was more of a friend than a servant. It was up to her to bring food to my wife. ”

　　"So, isn't the child in danger at the moment?"

　　Nanny Mrs Mason vowed not to leave the baby day and night. I was even more uneasy about poor little Jack, for he had been beaten twice, as I told you. ”

　　"Uninjured?"

　　"Nothing. She fought quite hard. In particular, he was a poor lame child. When Ferguson spoke of his son, the expression on his face became gentler.

　　"This child's flaws will be soft-hearted if they see it." When he was a child, he broke his spine, but his heart was the loveliest and most painful. ”

　　At this time Holmes picked up yesterday's letter from the table and read it again. "Mr. Ferguson, who else is in your house?"

　　"There are two newly arrived servants. There was also a groom, named Michael, who also lived in the house. The other is my wife, myself, my son Jack, Baby, Dolores, Mrs. Mason. That's it. ”

　　"I suppose you didn't know much about your wife when you got married?"

　　"I've known her for only a few weeks."

　　"How long has the maid Dolores been with her?"

　　"It's been years."

　　"So she should know more about your wife's personality than you do?"

　　"Yes, so to speak."

　　Holmes wrote it down.

　　"I think," he said, "I'm more useful in Lamberley than I am here." This case needs to be investigated in person. Since the hostess did not leave the bedroom, we would not bother her in the manor. Of course we were staying in the hostel. ”

　　Ferguson looked relieved.

　　"Mr. Holmes, this is exactly what I had hoped for. If you can come, there is a comfortable train departing from Victoria Station at exactly two o'clock. ”

　　"Nature is coming. I happen to have free time at the moment. I can do my best to handle your case. Watson, of course, went with us. Before we go, though, there are one or two questions I have to be very precise about. As I understand it, this unfortunate hostess seems to have used force against both children, including your youngest son and her own baby, right? ”

　　"That's right."

　　"But the way to use force is different, isn't it?" She was beating your little son. ”

　　"Once with a cane, the other with a hand."

　　"Didn't she ever explain why she hit him?"

　　"No, just saying hate him. She said this again and again. ”

　　"This is also common in stepmothers. It can probably be called jealousy of the dead. Is she jealous by nature? ”

　　"Yes, she is jealous, she is jealous with her tropical affection."

　　"Your son—he is fifteen years old, and since his physical activity is limited by health, presumably his intellect developed earlier. Didn't he explain to you why he was beaten? ”

　　"No, he insisted it was for no reason."

　　"Did he have a good relationship with his stepmother before?"

　　"There was never a feeling of love between them."

　　"But you say he's a hurtful kid?"

　　"There will never be a son as faithful as he is again in the world. I am his life. He was concerned about every word and deed I said. ”

　　Holmes wrote it down again. He was out of God for a moment.

　　"Before you remarry, you must have had a deep affection for your son. You're always together, right? ”

　　"Get along day and night."

　　"Since this child is very emotional, of course he is deeply in love with his late mother?"

　　"Very much loved."

　　"It seems he must be a very interesting child." There was also a question about beatings. Did the beating of your son and the mysterious attack on the baby happen at the same time? ”

　　"The first time it was like this. It was as if she had suddenly been hit by something and vented to both children. The second time it was just Jack who was beaten, and the babysitter didn't say what had happened to the baby. ”

　　"It's a bit complicated."

　　"I don't quite understand what you mean, Mr. Holmes."

　　"Possibly. I have made some assumptions, which will be refuted one by one by time or new information. It's a bad habit, Mr. Ferguson, but people always have weaknesses. I'm afraid your old friend Watson has described my scientific method a bit as exaggerated. Anyway, at the moment I can only tell you that I don't think your case is insoluble, and today at two o'clock we arrived at Victoria Station on time. ”

　　It was a gloomy, foggy November dusk. We left our luggage at the Cheks Inn in Lamberley and drove across a winding and muddy Sussex road to the remote and old manor house in Ferguson, a vast and continuous building with a very old central part and new wings, with a Tude-style towering chimney and a high slope of moss-grown Holsham slate tiles. The steps have been sunken, and the ancient tiles of the walls of the gallery are carved with images of the original owners of the circular. The ceiling of the room is supported by heavy oak columns, and the uneven floor shows deep grooves. The crumbling house exudes an old rotten atmosphere.

　　Ferguson let us into a very spacious central hall. There is a large, tin-covered old-style fireplace with the inscription "1670" engraved on it, and a roaring wall fire with fine wooden blocks.

　　I looked around and saw that this house was a hodgepodge of times and geographies. The semi-cut wood wall was probably built by the original farmer in the seventeenth century. In the lower part of the wall hangs a row of aesthetically interesting modern watercolors. In the upper part hangs a row of South American vessels and weapons, apparently brought by the Peruvian lady upstairs. Holmes stood up and studied these things carefully with his omnipresent keen curiosity. After he saw it, he sat down again with a pensive look in his eyes. "Hey!" He suddenly shouted, "Look! ”

　　A poodle, who was lying in a basket in the corner of the house, slowly crawled toward its owner, struggling to move. Its hind legs dragged, and its tail dragged on the ground. It went to lick its master's hand.

　　"What's going on, Mr. Holmes?"

　　"This dog. What's wrong with it? ”

　　"Veterinarians can't figure out what the disease is. It was a paralysis, he said, probably meningitis. But the disease is subsiding. It's going to be fine soon—isn't it, my Carlo? ”

　　The dog's tail fluttered slightly in agreement. Its miserable eyes looked at this man, and then at that man. It understands very well that we are talking about its disease.

　　"Did this disease happen suddenly?"

　　"Overnight."

　　"How long ago?"

　　"Maybe four months."

　　"It's weird. Very inspiring. ”

　　"Do you think this disease means anything, Mr. Holmes?"

　　"It confirms one of my assumptions."

　　"What, what the hell are you talking about?" This may be a guessing game for you, but it is a matter of life and death for me! My wife may be a murderer and my son is in constant danger! Don't joke with me, Mr. Holmes, it's terrible. ”

　　This big centre-back, shaking from head to toe. Holmes put his hand on his arm to comfort him:

　　"Whatever the conclusion is, I'm afraid it will be painful for you." I will certainly try to alleviate your pain. I can't say much more at the moment, but I may give you a definitive answer before I leave your house. ”

　　"I hope so!" Excuse both of you, I'm going upstairs to see if my wife's situation has changed. ”

　　He went for a few minutes, and Holmes went again to study the artifacts hanging on the wall. The master returned, and from that gloomy look on his face he had made no progress. He brought a maid with a slender yellow face.

　　"Dolores, the refreshments are ready," said Ferguson, "and you please take care of the hostess to get what she wants." ”

　　"She's very sick," said the maid aloud, glaring at her master with both eyes, "and she doesn't want to eat." She was very ill. She asked for a doctor. Without a doctor, I was scared to stay with her alone. ”

　　Ferguson looked at me questioningly.

　　"If necessary, I'm willing to do my best."

　　"Would your mistress want to see Dr. Watson?"

　　"I'll take him with me. I don't want to ask for permission. She needs a doctor. ”

　　"Then I'll go with you right away."

　　The maid trembled with excitement, and I followed her up the stairs into an old corridor. At the end there is a very thick iron bone door. I looked at the door and said, if Ferguson wanted to break into his wife's room, it wouldn't be so easy. The maid took the key from her pocket, and the heavy oak door panel squeaked open on the folded leaf. I walked in, and she immediately followed up and locked the door with her hand back.

　　Lying on the bed was a woman, apparently with a high fever. She was half-conscious, but as soon as I came in, she immediately raised a pair of frightened and feminine eyes and stared at me in fear. At the sight of the living, she was relieved to lie on the pillow. I stepped forward and said two words of comfort, and she lay there quietly to let me take my pulse. The pulse is fast and the body temperature is high, but the clinical impression is neurotic rather than infectious fever.

　　"She lay like this for a day, two days. "I'm afraid she's going to die," said the maid.

　　The mistress turned her handsome, red-hot face toward me.

　　"Where is my husband?"

　　"Downstairs, he wants to see you."

　　"I don't want to see him, I don't want to see him." Later she seemed to be confused.

　　"Vicious, vicious! What do I do with this demon! ”

　　"Can I help you in any way?"

　　"Nope. No one else can. Finished. It's all over. Whatever I do, it's all over. ”

　　The hostess must have been talking nonsense. I really can't see how an honest Ferguson could be a vicious or demonic figure.

　　"Mrs. Ferguson," I said, "your husband loves you deeply. He was very bitter about it. ”

　　Once again, she turned her beautiful eyes toward me.

　　"He loves me, not bad. But don't I love him? Didn't I love him to the point where I'd rather sacrifice myself than break his heart? That's how I love him. And he would think of me like this—say that about me. ”

　　"He was in extreme pain, but he didn't understand."

　　"He can't understand. But he should be trusted. ”

　　"Wouldn't you like to see him?"

　　"No, no, I can't forget what he said, and I can't forget the look on his face. I don't want to see him. Please go. You can't help me. Please tell him a word, I want my child. I have the right to have my own children. That's the only thing I'm going to say to him. She turned her face against the wall and refused to speak again.

　　I went back downstairs, and Ferguson and Holmes were still sitting by the fireplace. Ferguson listened melancholy as I recounted the meeting.

　　"How can I give the baby to her?" he said. "How can I know if she will ever have any strange impulses again?" How can I forget the time when she stood up from the baby, her lips were covered with the child's blood? "He fought a Cold War." The baby is safe at the babysitter's place and he must stay with the babysitter. ”

　　A playful maid brought in refreshments, and she was the only fashionable figure in the manor. As she opened the door, a teenager came into the house. He was a striking child, fair complexion, light yellow hair, a pair of light blue eyes that were easy to agitate, and when he saw his father, he flashed an unexpected excitement and joy. He rushed over and put his hands around his neck and hugged his father like a passionate girl.

　　"Daddy," he cried, "I didn't know you were already here, or I would have been here waiting for you." I miss you so much! ”

　　Ferguson, somewhat embarrassed, gently pulled away his son's hand.

　　"Good boy," he said, stroking his pale yellow hair, "I came back early because my friends Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson were willing to spend the night with me. ”

　　"Is that Detective Mr. Holmes?"

　　This child looked at us with an insightful, but to me, unfriendly eye.

　　"Mr. Ferguson, where is your little son?" Holmes said. "Can we see him?"

　　"Tell Mrs. Mason to bring the baby," Ferguson said. The child walked away at a strange, staggering pace, and from my doctor's point of view, he had spinochondrosis. It didn't take long for him to return, followed by a tall, thin woman, with a beautiful baby in her arms, black eyes and blond hair, a wonderful blend of Saxon and Latin descent. Ferguson obviously loved him very much, and when they saw him, he took him into his arms and caressed him very lovingly.

　　"I really don't understand how anyone could bear to hurt him," he said to himself, looking down at the little red wrinkles on the angelic white neck.

　　At this very moment, my gaze happened to fall on Holmes, and I found his expression particularly attentive. His face was ivory-carved, and his eyes, after glancing at his father and son, stared curiously at something opposite. I followed his gaze, but I could only guess that he was looking out the window at the depressing, drenched garden. In fact, the shutters were half-closed and nothing could be seen, but his eyes were clearly staring at the windows. Then with a slight smile, his eyes returned to the baby. The baby has a small scar on its neck. Holmes looked closely at the wound without a word. Finally he shook the baby's little fist that was shaking in the air.

　　"Goodbye, obedient. The starting point of your life is peculiar. Nanny, I'll have a word to say to you. ”

　　He and the nanny went to the side to talk seriously for a few minutes. All I heard was the last sentence: "Your concerns will be dispelled in no time." The babysitter seemed to be a somewhat stubborn and not talkative person, and she carried the baby away.

　　"What kind of person is Mrs. Mason?" Holmes asked.

　　"Although it does not make people feel good on the surface, he is very kind in heart and loves this baby."

　　"Jack, do you like babysitters?" Holmes said suddenly to the eldest child. The child's expressionless, flexible face darkened, and he shook his head.

　　"Jack, this kid has a strong liking and disliking," Ferguson said, putting his arm around the child. "Thankfully I'm someone he likes."

　　Jack snorted and plunged his head into Daddy's arms. Ferguson pulled him away gently.

　　"Go and play, be well-behaved," he said, watching him out with caressed eyes, and then went on to say to Holmes, "Mr. Holmes, I really think you'll run away in vain, because what can you do but show sympathy?" From your perspective, this must be a particularly complex and sensitive case. ”

　　"Sensitivity is indeed sensitivity," said Holmes with some amusement, "but I have not yet discovered how complicated it is. Originally, it is a process of reasoning, but when the original reasoning is confirmed by objective facts step by step, the subjectivity becomes objective, and we can confidently say that the goal has been achieved. In fact, before leaving Baker Street, I had come to the conclusion that all that was left was observation and confirmation. ”

　　Ferguson pressed his large hand against his wrinkled forehead.

　　"Look in the face of God, Mr. Holmes," he said, "his voice is hoarse,

　　"If you see the truth of this, don't let me worry about it anymore." What is my situation? What should I do? I don't care how you find the facts, as long as they are facts. ”

　　"Of course I should explain it to you, and I'm going to explain the problem in a moment. But you should always allow me to deal with things in my own way, right? Watson, can the hostess's health meet us? ”

　　"She was sick enough, but fully awake."

　　"That's fine. We can only clarify the facts in her presence. Let's go upstairs and meet her. ”

　　"But she won't see me," Ferguson exclaimed.

　　"She will," said Holmes. He hurriedly wrote a few lines on the paper. "Watson, at least you have the right to enter the door, so let's give this article to the hostess."

　　I went upstairs, and Dolores opened the door warily, and I handed her the note. A minute later I heard a shout from inside the house, a cry of surprise. Dolores leaned out.

　　"She's willing to see them, she's willing to listen," she said.

　　I called Ferguson and Holmes upstairs. As soon as he entered the door, Ferguson took two steps toward the head of the bed, but his wife sat up and stopped him with her hand. He sat down on a couch. Holmes bowed and sat down beside him. The hostess looked at Holmes with wide eyes in amazement.

　　"I suppose there is no need for Dolores here," said Holmes, "oh, well, ma'am, and I have no objection if you want her to stay." Well, Mr. Ferguson, I am a busy man with a lot of business, and my approach must be short and to the point. The faster the operation, the less pain there is. I'll start by saying something that reassures you. Your screwdriver is a very kind, very gentle and loving person who has suffered great grievances. ”

　　Ferguson cheered and stood up.

　　"Mr. Holmes, as long as you confirm this, I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life."

　　"I'm going to confirm it, but doing so I'm going to make you sad on the other hand."

　　"As long as you wash away my wife, I don't care about anything else." Everything else in the world is secondary. ”

　　"Then let me tell you the reasoning assumptions I formed at home. The vampire claim seems absurd to me. This has not happened in the history of British crime. And your observation is correct. You see the mistress standing up by the crib, her lips covered in blood. ”

　　"I've seen it."

　　"But have you not thought that sucking bloody wounds has other uses than sucking blood?" Hasn't there ever been a queen in British history who sucked poison from a wound with her mouth? ”

　　"Poison!"

　　"A South American family. Before I saw these weapons hanging on your walls, I instinctively felt their presence. It could be some other poison, but the first thing that comes to mind is the South American poison arrow. I wasn't at all surprised when I saw the empty arrow box next to the bird's bow, which was exactly what I was looking forward to seeing. If a baby is stabbed by such a poisoned arrow dipped in strychnine, it will be fatal if the poison is not sucked out immediately.

　　"And that dog! If a person is determined to use poison, doesn't he have to try it first to be foolproof? I hadn't foreseen the dog, but at least at first sight I understood, and the dog's condition was exactly in line with my reasoning.

　　"You know that this time, right?" Your wife is afraid of this hurt. She saw it happen, she saved the baby's life, but she avoided telling you the truth because she knew how much you loved your son, and she was afraid of breaking your heart. ”

　　"It turned out to be Jack!"

　　"I watched Jack while you were stroking the baby. His face was clearly reflected in the window glass, because there were shutters outside as a background. I saw such intense jealousy and cold hatred in his face, which was rare. ”

　　"My Jack!"

　　"You have to face reality, Mr. Ferguson. This is particularly painful precisely because it is motivated by a distorted love, an exaggerated and morbid love for you, and possibly for his dead mother, which constitutes the motivation for his actions. His whole heart was filled with hatred for the baby, whose bodybuilding set off his disabilities and flaws. ”

　　"Oh my God! That's impossible! ”

　　"Ma'am, am I right?"

　　The hostess was crying, her head buried in the pillow. Then she looked up at her husband.

　　"How could I tell you at the time, Bob?" I can feel the mental blow you may be taking. I might as well wait and wait for someone else to tell you. I was so happy when the gentleman's note said he knew it all, as if he had magical powers. ”

　　"I see that a year of voyages is healthy for little Jack, and that's my prescription," Holmes said. He stood up. "Only one thing is unclear. wife. We can understand why you hit Jack. Nor can a mother's tolerance be unlimited. But how dare you leave the baby these two days? ”

　　"I told Mrs. Mason the truth, and she understood it all."

　　"That's the way it is, and I guess so it is."

　　By this time Ferguson was already standing in front of the bed, stretching out his trembling hands, and he could not make a sound.

　　"Now, I suppose, it's time for us to end, Watson," Holmes whispered in my ear. "You hold the hand of faithful Dolores, and I hold this one." "Well," he said again after closing the door, "let them both solve the rest of the problems on their own." ”

　　I have only one sentence to add to this case, and that is Holmes's reply to the letter at the beginning of this article, which reads as follows:

　　Baker Street on January 21

　　Following the letter from the nineteenth, I have investigated the case of your customer, Robert Ferguson Ferguson of the Ferguson Millhead Tea Distribution Company on Mysing Avenue, and the results have been successful. Thanks for the introduction of your store, we hereby thank you.

　　Sherlock Holmes

　　Crown Jewel Case

　　Dr. Watson was delighted to be back in this disorganized room on the second floor of Baker Street, where many of his famous adventures began. He looked around the room, where scientific charts were plastered on the walls, shelves of medicines burned by strong acids, violin boxes in the corners of the rooms, and pipes and tobacco still in the coal buckets. Finally his gaze fell on Billy's smiling and godly face. It was a small listener, young but very intelligent and sensible, and having him by his side could offset a little of the loneliness caused by the gloomy figure of the famous detective.

　　"Everything is the same, Billy. You haven't changed. He's the same old way, right? ”

　　Billy looked a little worriedly at the closed bedroom door.

　　"I think he probably went to bed and fell asleep," Billy said.

　　It was the starting point of a bright summer afternoon. But Watson was already so familiar with his friend's irregular life that he would not find it strange to sleep now.

　　"That is to say, we are currently working on a case?"

　　"Yes, sir. He was nervous now. I was worried about his health. He was getting paler and emaciated, and he couldn't eat. Mrs. Hudson always asked him, 'What time do you have dinner, Mr. Holmes?' And he always said, 'After half a minute of the weather.' You know how he lived his life when he was concentrating on the case. ”

　　"Yes, Billy, I know very well."

　　"At the moment he's staring at someone. Yesterday he disguised himself as a worker looking for a job, and today he became an old lady. I almost cheated on me, but I should be familiar with his habits by now. Billy smiled and pointed with his finger at a wrinkled parasol standing on the couch. This is one of the props of the old woman. ”

　　"What is this all about?"

　　Billy lowered his voice as if he were talking about something important to the country. "It's okay to tell you, but it can't be passed on." It's about handling the case of that crown jewel. ”

　　"What—the 100,000-pound theft?"

　　"Yes, sir. They were determined to retrieve the gems. Hey, the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary came in person that day and sat on that couch. Mr. Holmes was very kind to them, and he reassured them without saying a few words, and he promised to do everything in his power. But that Lord Cantermir—"

　　"Oh, he!"

　　"It was him, sir. You see what that's all about. If I had to say it, he was a living zombie. I can talk to the Prime Minister, and I don't hate the Minister of the Interior, he's a polite, talkative guy. But I can't stand this Lord Lord. Holmes couldn't stand him either. You see, he didn't believe Mr. Holmes at all, and he was not at all opposed to asking him to handle the case. Instead, he wished he had failed. ”

　　"Does Mr. Holmes know this?"

　　"Of course Mr. Holmes knows everything."

　　"Then let's hope that he will succeed in handling the case, and let Lord Cantermir go to hell." Hey Billy, what's that curtain in front of the window for? ”

　　"Three days ago Mr. Holmes let it hang, and there was a funny thing behind it."

　　Billy walked over and pulled the curtain that covered the recess of the bulging belly window.

　　Dr. Watson cried out in amazement. It was a wax figure of his friend, dressed in pajamas or something, with everything available, his face up to the window, slightly drooping, as if he were reading a book, and his body sitting deep in the easy chair. Billy took his head off and lifted it up in the air.

　　"We put our heads in a variety of different angles to make us look more like real people. If it weren't for the curtains, I wouldn't have dared to touch them. Open the curtains and you can see it across the road. ”

　　"Once before, Holmes and I also used wax men."

　　"I hadn't come yet," Billy said. He casually opened the curtain and looked out into the street. "Someone was over there watching us. I can see a guy at the window over there right now. Come and have a look. ”

　　Watson had just taken a step, when suddenly the bedroom door opened, revealing Holmes's tall, thin figure, pale and nervous, but his steps and posture as strong as ever. He jumped to the window with one arrow and immediately closed the curtains.

　　"Don't move anymore, Billy," he said. "You were in danger of your life just now, and I still need you." Watson, it's nice to see you again in the old place. You came at the right time, at the critical moment. ”

　　"I guess that's the same thing."

　　"Billy, you can walk away. This child is a problem. How much reason can there be to justify me letting him take risks? ”

　　"What danger, Holmes?"

　　"The danger of violent death. I reckon something will happen tonight. ”

　　"What?"

　　"Assassinated, Watson."

　　"No kidding, Holmes!"

　　"Even my limited sense of humor wouldn't make such a joke. But anyway, let's have fun right now, right? Am I allowed to drink? Gas stoves and cigars are in the old place. In my opinion, you should still sit in your old easy chair. You probably don't hate my pipe and my bad tobacco, do you? Recently they replaced my three meals. ”

　　"Why not eat?"

　　"Because hunger improves the functioning of the human body. As a doctor, you will certainly admit that the amount of blood supplied from digestion is equal to the amount of blood supplied lost by brain power. And I'm just the mind, Watson. Other than that, my body is just an attachment. So, I should first consider the needs of the brain. ”

　　"But what the hell is going on with this danger?"

　　"By the way, while there is no accident, it may be beneficial for you to keep the name and address of the murderer in your mind." You can give it to Scotland Yard, along with my greetings and dying wishes. The name is Sylvias – Count of Negreto Sylvias. Write it down, man, write it down! 136 Rue Des Jardins de Molsai. Did you write it down? ”

　　Watson's loyal face trembled with urgency. He understood very well how great a risk Holmes was taking, and he knew that what he had just said was less exaggerated than narrow. Watson had always been an activist, and he made a decision.

　　"Count me in, Sherlock Holmes. I haven't done much for two days. ”

　　"I said Watson, your personality has not grown, and you have added the problem of lying. You are obviously a busy doctor, and there are people who come to see you every hour. ”

　　"That's not a symptom that matters. Why don't you call for someone to arrest this guy? ”

　　"I can do that. This is what makes him anxious. ”

　　"Then why don't you do it?"

　　"Because I don't know where the gems are hidden."

　　"That's right! Billy told me—it was the Crown Jewel. ”

　　"Yes, that big yellow sapphire." I've cast the net, I've caught the fish, I just haven't gotten the gem, so what's the use of catching them? Of course, it can eliminate a harm to society. But that's not my purpose. I want gems. ”

　　"Is this Count Sylvias one of your fish?"

　　"Nice, and it's sharks. He's biting. The other was Sam Morton, boxing. Sam was a not bad guy, but unfortunately he was taken advantage of by the Count. Sem is not a shark. He was a big, stupid bass with a big head. But he was also fluttering in my net. ”

　　"Where is this Sylvias?"

　　"I was by his side all morning. You've seen me disguised as an old woman before, Watson. But today is the most realistic. At one point he actually picked up my parasol for me. 'I'm sorry, ma'am,' he said. He was half Italian and had a little southern courtesy when he was happy, but was the embodiment of the devil when he was wrong. Life is really amazing, Watson. ”

　　"Life can also become tragedy."

　　"Yes, maybe. Later I followed him all the way to the old Straubenzi shop in Minores. This shop is made of air guns, it is quite cleverly done, and I see that there is a window on the opposite side now. Did you see the Wax Man? Of course, Billy showed you. Wax man's head could be pierced by a bullet at any time. What's the matter, Billy? ”

　　The little listener holds a tray with a business card on it. Holmes looked at it and raised his eyebrows, a joking smile on his face.

　　"This guy is coming. I didn't expect that. Watson, pull the internet! This guy is a bold guy. You've probably heard of his reputation as a shooter in a big game. If he could put me on top of his successful athletic record, it would be a triumphant ending. This shows that he already feels that I am closing the net. ”

　　"Call the police!"

　　"I'm afraid I have to scream, but not right away. Watson, can you look out the window and see if there's a man wandering down the street? ”

　　Watson looked carefully from the edge of the curtain.

　　"Yes, there's a big man dangling in the doorway."

　　"That's Morton—the loyal and incompetent Sam. Billy, where is the gentleman who came to visit? ”

　　"In the reception room."

　　"As soon as I ring the bell, you'll bring him up."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"If I'm not in the house, you'll let him in alone."

　　As soon as Billy went out and closed the door, Watson said solemnly to Holmes:

　　"I said, Sherlock Holmes, this is not going to work. This man is an outlaw, a man of indifference, and he may have come to murder you. ”

　　"I'm not surprised."

　　"I'm not leaving, I'm with you."

　　"You're only getting in the way."

　　"What's in his way?"

　　"No, my partner, it's my business."

　　"Then I can't leave you either."

　　"Watson, it doesn't matter if you go, you'll go, because you've never let me down. I'm sure you'll do it to the end. Although this man came to achieve his own ends, he could serve my ends. "He pulled out his diary and hurriedly wrote a few lines." You send this to Scotland Yard to give to Jugel of the Reconnaissance Service. Then you come with the police. Then you can arrest this guy. ”

　　"I'll happily do it."

　　"I just had time to retrieve the gem before you arrived." He rang the bell. "We'd better get out the bedroom door." This side door was very useful. I want to look at my old shark on the side, and you know I have a special approach. ”

　　So, a minute later, Billy let count Sylvias come into the empty room. The famous beast hunter, athlete and playboy was a burly, dark man with a mighty black beard that covered the ferocious thin lips below and a long, curved nose like a hawk's beak. He's well-dressed, but the floral bow tie and gleaming pins and rings give it a flashy feel. When the door behind him closed, he looked around with a fierce and startled look, as if every step was afraid of a trap. He was taken aback when he suddenly noticed the head and the collar of his pajamas above the easy chair in front of the window. At first his expression was pure surprise, and then a terrible glint of hope flashed in his murderous black eyes. He looked around and saw that no one was there to testify, so he raised his thick cane and tiptoed toward the silent figure. As he was curled up about to pounce on him, suddenly a calm and sarcastic voice from the bedroom door said to him, "Don't break it, Count!" Don't break! ”

　　The murderer shrank in fright, his convulsive face filled with horror. In the brakes he half-raised the leaded cane again, as if he were about to commit another murder against a real person, but Holmes's calm gray eyes and sarcastic smile made his hand go again.

　　"That's a good thing," said Holmes, pacing toward the humanoid. "It was made by the French iconoclastic Tavernier. He's no less skilled at making wax figures than your friend Straubenzi is at making airsoft guns. ”

　　"What an airsoft gun! What did you say? ”

　　"Please put your hat cane on the coffee table. Good! Have a seat. Would you rather take your pistol off? Well, you're willing to sit with you and do whatever you want. Your visit was very coincidental, because I would have liked to talk to you a little bit. ”

　　The count twisted his thick eyebrows.

　　"I, too, wanted to talk to you, that's why I came, Holmes. I don't deny that I just wanted to beat you up. ”

　　Holmes moved his leg against the edge of the table.

　　"I see you have this idea," he said. "But where did the concern for myself come from?"

　　"Because you're messing around with me. Because you sent your minions to track me. ”

　　"What? My minions! Not that! ”

　　"Don't put garlic! I told someone to follow them. Both sides can do this, Sherlock Holmes. ”

　　"That's all right, Count Sylvias, but please call me by my first name." You should know that in this line of work, only the rogues call me by my name like acquaintances, and you will agree with me, and it is not good not to observe normal courtesy. ”

　　"Well, then Mr. Holmes."

　　"Nice! I'll tell you, you're wrong to say I sent someone to follow you. ”

　　The count laughed contemptuously.

　　"Others will follow you as well. Yesterday there was an idle old man. Today is an old woman again. They stared at me all day. ”

　　"Honestly, sir, you've complimented me. Yesterday, Old Baron Dawson also made a bet that I, as a person, had done the law and lost the theater industry. Why did you come to lift my little makeup technique today? ”

　　"Is that you—is that you?"

　　Holmes shrugged. "You look at the parasol in the corner, you started to suspect that I had picked it up for me in Minori."

　　"If I knew it was you, you wouldn't have planned to—"

　　"Back to this shelter again." I understand that very well. You and I regret that we should not have missed a good opportunity. Since you didn't know it was me, we met again. ”

　　The count's eyebrows tightened even tighter. "You're saying that even more seriously. Not your spies but you yourself in disguise, you have nothing to do! You admit you're stalking me. Why Track? ”

　　"Well, Count, you've fought lions in Algeria in the past."

　　"So what?"

　　"Why hunt?"

　　"Why? For fun – for excitement – for adventure. ”

　　"Also to eliminate the harm to the country, right?"

　　"Exactly."

　　"That's my reason!"

　　The count jumped up and involuntarily touched his hand toward the back pocket.

　　"Sit down, sir, sit down! There's a more practical reason for me to want that yellowing gem. ”

　　The count leaned back in his chair with a sinister smile on his face.

　　"That's the way it is!" he said.

　　"You know I'm staring at you for this. The purpose of your coming tonight is to find out how much I know about you and how necessary it is to eliminate me. All right. I tell you, from your point of view that is absolutely necessary, because I know everything except one point, which is what you are about to tell me. ”

　　"Wow! I ask you, what do you want to know about this? ”

　　"Where is the gem now?"

　　The count looked at him warily. "So, you want to know that?" But how can I tell you where it is? ”

　　"You can, you will do it."

　　"Hooray!"

　　"You can't beat me, Count." Holmes stared at him with two eyes, staring brighter and brighter, and finally became two powerful steel points. "You're a glass brick. I can see through your head. ”

　　"Then of course you can see where the gem is."

　　Holmes slapped his hand happily, then held out a finger and taunted, "So you do know, you have admitted it." ”

　　"I didn't admit anything."

　　"I said, Count, if you understand better, we can deal with each other. Otherwise, it is not good for you. ”

　　The count threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You still say I lied to you!" he said.

　　Holmes looked at him with amazement, like a chess player thinking about a crucial move. Then he pulled open the drawer and took out a thick diary.

　　"Do you know what's in here?"

　　"I don't know, sir."

　　"It's you!"

　　"Me!"

　　"It's you! Your whole experience – every sinful adventure. ”

　　"Fuck, Holmes!" The count shouted with fire in his eyes, "My patience has a limit!" ”

　　"It's all here, Count. For example, the truth of Harold's death, she left the Bremer estate to you, and you immediately gambled. ”

　　"You're talking about dreams!"

　　"And all the life of Miss Valentine."

　　"Whew! Then you can't catch anything! ”

　　"And there's. Here is a record of a robbery on a first-class train on the Riviera on February 13, 1892. This was a case of forged cheques at a bank in Lyon that same year. ”

　　"You're not right about that."

　　"That's all right! Hi Count, you are a man who can play cards. When your opponent has all your aces, handing over your cards is the most time-saving. ”

　　"What do you say this have to do with the gems you just talked about?"

　　"Slow down, Count. Don't worry! Let me make it clear in my simple and ordinary way. I have all this against you, but on top of all this, I also have complete control of you and your thug in the Crown Jewel case. ”

　　"Hooray! Seriously? ”

　　"I have the coachman who will take you to Buckingham Palace, the coachman who will take you away. I know that I saw your janitor at the site of the accident. I have a good grasp of Edge Sanders, who won't break the gem for you. Archie had turned himself in. Your business is revealed. ”

　　The green tendons on the count's head were all swollen. His big hairy hands were twisted nervously together. He seemed to want to speak, but could not utter words.

　　"That's my card," said Holmes. "Now I'm all out. But missing a card, it's the square K. I don't know where the gems are. ”

　　"You won't know."

　　"Really? Count, let it go, you weigh the weight. You will be imprisoned for twenty years. The same goes for Sam. So what's the use of the gems you want? Useless. And if you hand over the gems – then I'll do a non-prosecution. What we need is not to catch you or Sam. We want gems. Hand over the gems, then, as long as you are honest in the future, my personal opinion is to let you go free. If you make another mess – then don't take it for example. This time my mission is to get the gems, not to catch you. ”

　　"What if I don't do it?"

　　"Well, I'm sorry, that's only to catch you and not take the gem."

　　Then Billy heard the bell ringing and came.

　　"Count, I think it might be better to bring your friend Sam along for consultation." In any case, his interests give him a say. Billy, there was a very big, ugly gentleman outside the gate. Ask him to come upstairs. ”

　　"What if he doesn't come, sir?"

　　"Don't force it. Don't use force with him. As long as you tell him that count Sylvias is looking for him, of course he will come. ”

　　"What are you going to do?" As soon as Billy left, the Count asked.

　　"My friend Watson is here too. I said to him that I had caught a shark and a bass in my net; and now that I was going to pull the net, they would float together. ”

　　The count stood up, a hand behind his back. Holmes held the same bulging thing in his pajama pocket.

　　"You won't have a good ending, Holmes."

　　"I think about it a lot, too. Does it matter how much it does? Truth be told, Count, your own exit is more likely to be lying down than standing. But worrying about the future is pathological. Why not let yourself enjoy the present? ”

　　Suddenly, a beastly fierce light flashed from the fierce black eyes of this criminal expert. As he became nervous and guarded, Holmes appeared taller. "Friend, it is useless to use a gun," said Holmes calmly. "You know it yourself, even if I give you time to get your gun, you won't dare to use it." Pistols are noisy things, Count. Still supplied guns are good. Oh, here I come, I hear the footsteps of your respectable partner. Hello, Mr. Moulton. It's weird on the street, isn't it? ”

　　The boxer was a very strong young man with a stupid, wayward flat face. He stood unnaturally in the doorway, looking around in confusion. This cheerful and gracious attitude of Holmes was new to him, and though he was vaguely aware that it was a hostility, he did not know how to deal with it. So he turned to his more cunning partner for help.

　　"I said Earl, what kind of play are you singing now?" What does this guy want to do? What the hell is going on? His voice was low and hoarse.

　　The count raised his shoulders, but Holmes answered.

　　"Mr. Morton, if I were allowed to summarize the situation in one sentence, it would be called full exposure."

　　The boxer still spoke to his accomplices.

　　"Is this kid telling jokes, or what?" I don't have the heart to make fun of it. ”

　　"I see too," said Holmes, "I see I can assure you that you will be less and less likely to laugh tonight." Hi Mr. Earl, I'm a busy person and I can't waste time. Now I go into that bedroom. I am not in the house, please do not be restrained. You don't have to hold my face and tell your partner about the current situation. I went to practice my violin and played a Venetian Boatman.com. I'll be back in this room in five minutes to hear your final answer. I guess you understood the last choice I said, right? Do we get you, or do we get gems? ”

　　After saying this, Holmes left, taking the violin from the corner. Soon, from the bedroom with the closed door came a series of grumbling tunes.

　　"What the hell is going on?" Morton asked anxiously without waiting for his friend to speak. "Could it be that he knows the bottom of the gem?"

　　"He's fucking fucking a lot. I'm not sure he knows it all. ”

　　"Oh my God!" The boxer's grayish-yellow face was even paler.

　　"Archie sold us."

　　"Really? Are you sure? I had to slaughter him, I was on the gallows! ”

　　"That's not a big deal either. We have to decide what to do quickly. ”

　　"Wait a minute," the boxer looked suspiciously into the bedroom. "This boy is a shrewd ghost, and he has to guard against his hand, is he eavesdropping?"

　　"How can he eavesdrop when he's playing the piano?"

　　"It's true. But maybe someone is hiding behind a curtain to eavesdrop. There are also many curtains in this house. He said and looked around. Then he found the wax figure of Holmes for the first time, and was so surprised that he held out his hand and pointed at it, unable to speak.

　　"Well, that's a wax figure!" The count said.

　　"Fake? Good fellow, it scared me. No one can see that it is fake. Exactly like him, still wearing pajamas. But, Count, look at these curtains! ”

　　"Don't worry about what curtains are not curtains!" We're delaying, not much time. He may soon be able to take us up for the gem thing. ”

　　"Fuck this kid!"

　　"But as soon as we tell him where the gem is hidden, he'll let go."

　　"How! Hand over the gems! Hand over a hundred thousand pounds? ”

　　"Pick one of the two."

　　Morton grabbed his own short haired head with his hand.

　　"He's alone here. Let's get rid of him." If this guy closes his eyes, we'll be out of fear. ”

　　The count shook his head.

　　"He's got a gun and he's prepared. If we shoot him, it will be difficult to escape in such a lively place. Besides, it is likely that the police already know the evidence he has. hey! What sound? ”

　　There seemed to be a muffled sound coming from the window. The two men immediately turned around, but there was nothing. The room was empty except for the strange image sitting there.

　　"It's the noise in the street," said Morton, "and I say, treasurer, you're a man with a brain." Of course you can figure out a way. If you can't use force, then I'll listen to you. ”

　　"I have also deceived someone stronger than him," replied the Count, "and the jewel is in my dark pocket." I can't risk messing with it elsewhere. It could be sent out of England tonight, and it could be cut into four pieces in Amsterdam by Sunday. He didn't know van Sedar as a person. ”

　　"I thought Sedar wouldn't be leaving until next week."

　　"It would have been. But now he had to leave immediately. You and I must have had someone sneak up to Lyme Street with a gem to tell him. ”

　　"But the false base is not ready yet."

　　"Then he'll have to just take it and risk it." Not a minute can be delayed. Once again, as an athlete instinctively felt danger, he looked at the window fiercely. Yes, the sound just now was indeed coming from the street.

　　"As for Holmes," he went on, "we can easily deceive him. You know, this idiot won't arrest us as long as he can get the gem. Well, we promised to give him the gem. We told him the wrong clue, and before he could find out, we went to Holland. ”

　　"I agree with this idea!" Morton shouted as he grinned.

　　"Go and tell the Dutch to hurry up. I'll deal with this fool and pretend to review it. I'll just say where the gems are in Liverpool. , this music is so annoying! By the time he found out that the gem was not in Liverpool, the gem had been cut into four pieces, and we were on the sea. Come over and dodge the keyhole on the door. Gems for you. ”

　　"How dare you carry it with you."

　　"Isn't this the safest place?" Since we can take it out of Buckingham Palace, others can take it from my residence. ”

　　"Let me take a closer look at it."

　　The count glanced disapprovingly at his companion, ignoring the dirty hand that had been stretched out.

　　"What's going on? Will you rob you when I do? , I can't stand you coming with me in this set! ”

　　"All right, all right, don't make a fire, Sam. We must not quarrel now. I can't see it clearly until I get to this window. Take it against the light and give it to you! ”

　　"Thank you!"

　　Holmes jumped up from the wax chair and snatched the gem as soon as he grabbed it. He held the jewel in one hand and pointed a pistol at the count's head with the other. The two hooligans were completely overwhelmed and took a few steps backwards in surprise. They were horrified, and Holmes had already ringed the bell.

　　"Don't use force, gentlemen, I beg you not to use force, look at the face of a room of furniture!" You should know that it is not appropriate for you to resist, and the police are downstairs. ”

　　The count's confusion outweighed his anger and fear.

　　"Where did you ——?" Didn't he take it up and say it flatly?

　　"Your surprise is understandable. You didn't notice that there was a door in my bedroom that led directly behind the curtain. I thought you would have heard the noise when I removed the wax figure, but I was lucky. This gives me the opportunity to listen to your vivid conversation, which would not have been so natural if you had been aware of my presence. ”

　　The count made a desperate and helpless expression.

　　"There really is yours, Holmes. I believe you are Satan the Devil himself. ”

　　"At least not far from him," said Holmes, laughing modestly.

　　Sam Morton's dull mind took half a day to figure out what was going on. It wasn't until heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs that he opened his mouth.

　　"No, no!" He said, "But where did this piano sound come from?" It's still ringing! ”

　　"Not bad," replied Holmes. "You're right. Let it go! Today the record player is truly a remarkable new invention. ”

　　The police swarmed in, and after the handcuffs rang, the prisoners got into the carriage that took them to the door. Watson stayed behind, congratulating Holmes on adding another glorious page to his detective history. Between words, billy, silently, came in again with the tray containing business cards.

　　"Lord Cantermier has arrived."

　　"Please come up, Billy. This is the nobleman who represents the highest class," said Holmes, "and he is a brilliant and faithful man, but somewhat pedantic. Do you want to tease him a little? How about making a joke about him? Logically, of course, he did not know what had just happened. ”

　　The door opened and a thin, dignified man came in, with a thin face draped with a Victorian mid-esque shiny black cheek whisker, which was not commensurate with his weak arched shoulders. Holmes greeted him warmly and shook the indifferent and unresponsive hand.

　　"Hello, Lord Cantermier! It's cold enough this year, but it's still hot enough in the house, can I help you take off your coat? ”

　　"No, thank you. I don't want to take it off. ”

　　But Holmes pulled on his sleeve and didn't let go.

　　"You're welcome, let me help you take it off!" My friend Dr. Watson can vouch that today's temperature changes are very harmful to health. ”

　　The lord wrenched his hand impatiently.

　　"I'm so comfortable, sir! I couldn't sit still. I just came in and asked how your voluntary case was going. ”

　　"Very tricky - very tricky."

　　"I've known that for a long time."

　　There was a clear irony in the tone of the old minister's tone. "Everyone has their limitations, Holmes was born, but it also has the advantage of treating our smug problems."

　　"Good, good, I'm really in a hurry."

　　"That's natural."

　　"Especially about a point. Maybe you can do me a little favor? ”

　　"It's a little too late for you to ask me for help. I thought you had a perfect solution. Still, I'm willing to help. ”

　　"Speaking of which, we can prosecute the actual thief."

　　"That's after you catch them."

　　"Absolutely. But the question is – how are we going to prosecute the recipients of the stolen goods? ”

　　"Isn't it a little premature for you to ask this question?"

　　"Well planned. So, what do you think is conclusive evidence of action against the recipients? ”

　　"Actual possession of gemstones."

　　"Will you arrest him based on this?"

　　"There's no doubt about it."

　　Holmes never laughed out loud, but this time it was almost the one in the memory of his old friend Watson.

　　"Well, sir, I will have to suggest your arrest."

　　Lord Cantermiere was very angry. His pale cheeks were also darkened by the old man's anger.

　　"You are too arrogant, Mr. Holmes. I have never seen such a thing in my fifty years of public service. Sir, I am a busy man with a heavy duty, and I do not have the time and taste to make such boring jokes. I can tell you frankly that I have never believed in your ability, and I have always thought it would be much safer to leave the case to the official police. What you have just done confirms my judgment. Goodbye sir. ”

　　Holmes immediately turned and stood in front of the door.

　　"Wait a minute, sir," he said, "taking the jewel away would constitute a more serious crime than temporarily possessing it." ”

　　"It's so out of line! Let me pass! ”

　　"Please touch the right pocket of your coat."

　　"What do you mean, sir?"

　　"Don't worry, don't worry, do as I say."

　　A few seconds later the astonished Lord stood there, stunned, trembling with the large yellowing jewel in his trembling palm.

　　"Huh! scold! What's going on, Mr. Holmes? ”

　　"I'm so sorry, Lord, I'm so sorry!" Holmes exclaimed, "This old friend of mine can tell you that I have a mischievous habit of playing pranks. Also, I love dramatic effects. I took the liberty of – very presumptuously – and put the gem in your pocket when you first came in. ”

　　The old lord looked at the jewel and then at Sherlock Holmes's smiling face.

　　"Sir, I am indeed confused. But – it's really a crown jewel. Mr. Holmes, we are so grateful to you. Your sense of humor, as you call it, is a bit quirky, and it's particularly opportunistic, but anyway I retract what I just said about your professionalism. But how the hell are you—"

　　"The case is only halfway through, and the details cannot be discussed for the time being." Lord Cantermier, you should now go back and report the good news to the top, which will make up for my mischief a little. Billy, send-off. Also, tell Mrs. Hudson to have a meal for two people as soon as possible. ”

　　Retired pigment merchant

　　That morning Holmes was depressed and fell into contemplation. His alert and practical personality is often influenced by this mood.

　　"Did you see him?" he asked.

　　"You mean the old man who just left?"

　　"That's him."

　　"Yes, I met him at the door."

　　"What do you think of him?"

　　"A poor, inactive, sloppy fellow."

　　"That's right, Watson. Pathetic and inactive. But isn't the whole life pathetic and inactive? Isn't his story a microcosm of the whole of humanity? We pursue, we want to grasp. But what do we have left in the end? An illusion, or worse than an illusion—pain. ”

　　"Is he one of your patrons?"

　　"Yes, I think he should be called that. He was sent from the police station. It's like a doctor transferring a patient they can't treat to a jianghu doctor. They say they can't do anything about it, and no matter what happens, the patient's situation can't be worse than the status quo. ”

　　Holmes picked up a greasy business card from the table. "Josiah Amberley. He said he was a shareholder in Brickfield and Amberley, they were paint merchants, and you could see their names on the oil box. He had saved a little money, retired at the age of sixty-one, and rested after buying a house in Lewisam and having been busy all his life. His future was thought to be assured. ”

　　"Indeed."

　　Holmes glanced at the record he had scribbled on the back of the envelope.

　　"Watson, he retired in 1896. In 1897 he married a woman twenty years younger than himself, and if it were not an exaggeration, it was a beautiful woman. A good life, a wife, and leisure—it seemed like a flat road in front of him. But as you can see, within two years he has become the most down-and-out and miserable guy in the world. ”

　　"What the hell is going on?"

　　"Still the same cliché, Watson. A perfidious friend and a watery woman. Amberley seems to have a hobby, which is chess. Not far from him lived Lewisham, a young doctor who was also a good chess player. I wrote down his name as Ray Ernest. He went to Amberley's house frequently, and his relationship with Mrs. Amberley naturally grew closer, for our hapless patron was outwardly uninspiring, whatever inner virtue he had. Last week the pair eloped – out of nowhere. What's more, the unfaithful wife took the old man's file box as her private property, which contained most of his life savings. Can we find the lady? Can I get my money back? So far this is a common question, but it is a matter of extreme importance to Amberley. ”

　　"What are you going to do?"

　　"Dear Watson, that depends on what you are prepared to do—if you understand me. You know I'm already working on the cases of two Bishop Kochits, and today will be the most critical juncture of this case. I couldn't get out of Lewisam, and the evidence on the scene was important. The old man repeatedly insisted that I go, and I explained my difficulties, and he agreed to let me send a representative. ”

　　"Well," I replied, "I confess that I am not confident that I am up to the task, but I am willing to do my best." So, on a summer afternoon I set out for Lewisham, not imagining that the case I was working on would become a hot topic of national discussion within a week.

　　It was late when I returned to Baker Street that night to report on the situation. Holmes stretched out his thin limbs to lie in the sunken sofa, slowly spitting out the smoke rings of spicy tobacco from his pipe. His sleepy eyes were sleepy, and if it had not been for the pause or doubt in my narrative, when he had half-opened those gray, bright, sharp eyes and gazed at me with an exploratory gaze, I would have thought he was asleep.

　　"The name of Mr. Josiah Amberley's dwelling is Haven," I explained, "and I think you will be interested, Holmes, like a poor aristocrat who has fallen to the lower classes. You know the kind of places, the monotonous brick roads and the boring suburban roads. Right among them there was a cozy island with ancient culture, and that was his home. Surrounded by hardened, moss-grown walls, this kind of wall—"

　　"Don't write poetry, Watson," said Holmes sternly. "I think it's a tall brick wall."

　　"Yes." If I hadn't asked an idler who was smoking on the street, I wouldn't have found Haven. I should mention this idle man. He was a tall, dark-skinned, bearded, soldier-like man. He nodded at my inquiry and glanced at me with a strangely questioning look, which reminded me of his gaze afterwards.

　　"I hadn't even entered the door when I saw Mr. Amberley walking down the driveway. I had only glanced at him at a cursory glance this morning, and I already thought he was a peculiar man, and now his appearance in the sunlight was even more abnormal. ”

　　"I've studied this, but I'd like to hear your impressions," said Holmes.

　　"I felt as if his bent waist was really bent by the sorrows of life. He was not as weak as I had imagined at first, because despite his slender legs, the skeleton of his shoulders and chest was very broad. ”

　　"The shoe on the left foot is crumpled, while the right foot is straight."

　　"I didn't pay attention to that."

　　"You won't. I noticed he used a prosthetic leg. But go ahead. ”

　　"I was impressed by his gray-white hair, which had burrowed out from under his old straw hat, and by his cruel expression and deeply wrinkled face."

　　"Great, Watson. What did he say? ”

　　He began to complain. We walked through the driveway together, and of course I looked around carefully. I've never seen such a desolate place. The garden is overgrown with weeds, and I think the grass here is not so much trimmed as it is free to develop. I really don't know how a decent woman can stand this. The house was equally dilapidated, and the hapless man himself seemed to feel this, and he was trying to fix it, and there was a bucket of green paint in the center of the hall, and he was holding a large brush in his left hand, painting the wooden part of the interior.

　　"He led me into the dark study, and we had a long conversation. You yourself failed to disappoint him. 'I dare not expect,' he said, "that a humble man as I am, especially after my terrible economic losses, will be able to win the attention of a famous figure like Mr. Holmes." '

　　"I told him it had nothing to do with the economy." Of course, it's art for his sake,' he said, but from the point of view of criminal art, it's worth studying. Dr. Watson, human nature – the worst thing is ungrateful! How could I have refused any of her requests? What woman is more spoiled than she is? And the young man — I literally treated him like my own son. He can come and go as I please. See how they are betraying me now! Oh, Dr. Watson, what a terrible, terrible world! '

　　That was the subject of his conversation for more than an hour. It looked like he had never suspected them of fornication. They lived alone, except for a maid who came every day and left at six o'clock in the evening. On the night of the accident, in order to make his wife happy, amberly srought two seats on the second floor of the Hay City Theater. Before leaving, she complained about the headache and couldn't leave, so he had to go alone. This seemed to be the truth, and he pulled out the unused ticket he had bought for his wife. ”

　　"It's noteworthy—very important," said Holmes, whose words seemed to piqued Holmes's interest in the case. "Watson, please continue. Your narrative is fascinating. Did you check the sheet for yourself? Maybe you didn't remember the number? ”

　　"I happen to remember," I replied with a little pride, "thirty-one, which happens to be the same as my student number, so I remember it firmly." ”

　　"Great, Watson! So he himself is either thirty or thirty-two? ”

　　"Yes," I replied a little puzzled, "and in the second row." ”

　　"It was so satisfying. What else did he say? ”

　　"He showed me what he called the vault, which was a veritable vault, with iron doors and iron windows like a bank, which he said were meant to prevent theft. Yet the woman seemed to have a replica key, and the two of them took a total of seven thousand pounds worth of cash and bonds. ”

　　"Bonds! How do they deal with it? ”

　　He said he had handed the police a list in hopes of making the bonds unsold. At midnight he returned home from the theater and found it stolen, doors and windows open, and the prisoners running away. No letters or messages were left, and he did not hear a word since. He immediately called the police. ”

　　Holmes calculated for a few minutes.

　　"You say he's painting, what is he painting?"

　　"He's painting the aisle. The doors and wooden parts of the house I mentioned have been painted. ”

　　"Don't you think it's a little strange to do this job at such a time?"

　　"'To avoid the pain in the heart, one has to do something.'" That's how he explained it himself. Of course, this is a bit abnormal, but it is clear that he is an abnormal strange person. He tore up a picture of his wife in front of me—in anger. I never wanted to see her hateful face again. He screamed. ”

　　"What else, Watson?"

　　"Yes, there is one thing that impressed me the most. I drove to Brechsch Station and caught the train, and just as the train was moving, I saw a man rush into the car next to me. Holmes, you know my ability to discern human faces. He was the tall, dark-skinned man who spoke to me on the street. I saw him again at London Bridge, and then he disappeared into the crowd. But I'm sure he's stalking me. ”

　　"That's right! That's right! "Sherlock Holmes said." A tall, dark-skinned, bearded man. You say, is he wearing a pair of gray sunglasses? ”

　　"Sherlock Holmes, you are a god. I didn't say that, but he did wear a pair of gray sunglasses. ”

　　"Still pinned to a Masonic tie pin?"

　　"You really can! sherlock holmes! ”

　　"It's very simple, my dear Watson. Let's talk about the actual situation. I must confess that the case, which I thought was simple and ridiculous and not worth it, has quickly shown its unusual side. Although you ignore all the important things in the execution of your tasks, these things that attract your attention are also worthy of serious consideration. ”

　　"What did I overlook?"

　　"Don't be sad, friend. You know I'm not referring to you alone. No one can do better than you, and some people may not be as good as you. But you're clearly overlooking something extremely important. What do neighbors think of Amberley and his wife? This is obviously important. How is Dr. Ernest like? Would people believe he was the kind of debauched disciple? Watson, with your innate convenience, all women will be your helpers and accomplices. What does a post office girl or a vegetable and fruit merchant's wife think? I can imagine you whispering gentle nonsense with the ladies in Blueanke while getting some reliable information from it. But you didn't do all this. ”

　　"It can still be done."

　　"It's been done. Thanks to the phone calls and help from the police station, I often didn't have to leave this room to get the most basic information. In fact, my intelligence corroborated the man's account. The locals consider him a very stingy, at the same time extremely rough and demanding husband. It was the young Doctor Ernest, an unmarried man, who had come to play chess with Amberley, and perhaps with his pawns. All of this may seem simple, and one would think that this is enough – yet! - And yet! ”

　　"Where's the difficulty?"

　　"Maybe it's because of my imagination. Well, leave it alone, Watson. Let's listen to music to get rid of this heavy lifting. Karina sang tonight at Albert Hall, and we still had time to change our clothes, eat, and listen to concerts. ”

　　I got out of bed on time in the early morning, but some crumbs and two empty eggshells indicated that my partner was earlier than me. I found a note on the table.

　　Dear Watson,

　　I have one or two things to discuss with Amberley, after which we will decide whether to proceed with the case. Please be ready by three o'clock, when I will need your help.

　　Ｓ.Ｈ．

　　I hadn't seen Holmes all day, but at the appointed time he returned, serious, out of his mind, without a word. Don't disturb his good at this time.

　　"Is Amberley coming?"

　　"Nothing."

　　"Ah! I'm waiting for him. ”

　　He was not disappointed, and soon the old man came, with a very anxious, confused expression on his stern face.

　　"Mr. Holmes, I have received a telegram, and I do not know what it means." He handed the letter over, and Holmes read it aloud:

　　Please come now. provides information about your recent losses.

　　Elman, Pastor's Residence

　　"Two o'clock is from Parrington Jr.," said Holmes, "Palinton Jr. is in Essex, and I believe it's not far from Flington." You should act now. This was apparently sent by a trustworthy person, the local priest. Where is my Who's Who? Ah, here it is: 'J. C. Ehrman, Master of Arts, presides over the parish of Mossmore and Little Parrington. 'Look at the train watch, Watson. ”

　　"There was a train from Liverpool Street at 5:20."

　　"Great, Watson, you'd better go with him." He will need help and advice. It is clear that we are close to the most urgent juncture of this case. ”

　　Yet our patrons don't seem to be in a hurry to set off.

　　"Mr. Holmes, this is simply ridiculous," he said. "How could this man know what was going on? This trip is only a waste of time and money. ”

　　"He won't send you a telegram without a little bit of information. Immediately send a telegram saying you go. ”

　　"I don't want to go."

　　Holmes became harsh.

　　"Mr. Amberley, if you refuse to follow a clue so obviously, that will only leave the worst impression on the police station and on myself. We will think that you are not serious about this investigation. ”

　　Our patron panicked at this point.

　　"Well, since you look at it that way, of course I'm going to go," he said, "on the surface, it's impossible for this man to know anything, but if you think—"

　　"That's what I think," Said Holmes in an accented tone, and we set out. Before we left the room, Holmes called me aside for advice, which showed that he thought the trip was of great importance. "Whatever happens, you have to try to get him away," he said. "If he escapes or comes back, go to the nearest telephone office and give me a letter and simply say 'run away.'" I'll arrange this side and I'll call me anyway. ”

　　Little Parrington is on a side line and is inaccessible. The trip didn't leave a good impression on me. It was hot, the train was slow, and my fellow travelers were sullenly silent, barely uttering a word except for a few occasional sarcasm about our unhelpful trip. Finally we reached the small station and went to the priest's house for another two-mile carriage ride. A tall, serious, pretentious pastor received us in his study. In front of him was the telegram we had taken of him.

　　"Hello, sir," he beckoned, "what do you think?" ”

　　"We have come," I explained, "for your telegram. ”

　　"My Telegram! I didn't make any telegrams at all. ”

　　"I mean the telegram you sent to Mr. Josiah Amberley about his wife and his money."

　　"Sir, if this is a joke, that would be too suspicious," said the priest indignantly. "I don't know the gentleman you mentioned, and I haven't telegraphed anyone."

　　My patron and I looked at each other in amazement.

　　"Maybe I'm mistaken," I said, "maybe there are two priests' houses here?" Here is the telegram, which says that Ehrman sent from the priest's house. ”

　　"There is only one pastor's house here, and there is only one priest, and this telegram is a shameful forgery, and the origin of this telegram must be investigated by the police, and I don't think there is any need to talk about it anymore."

　　So Monsieur Amberley and I came to the side of the road in the village, which seemed to be the most primitive village in England. We walked to the Telegraph Office, which was already closed. Thanks to a telephone at the small road police station, I was able to get in touch with Holmes. He was equally amazed at the outcome of our trip.

　　"Very strange!" A distant voice said, "What a shame! Dear Watson, my biggest fear is that there will be no car going back tonight. I didn't expect to end up spending the night in a country inn. However, nature is always with you, and Watson —nature and Josiah Amberley—can be your companion. "As I hung up the phone, I heard him laughing.

　　It didn't take long for me to discover that my traveling companion was a well-known miser. He complained about the cost of travel, insisted on taking a third-class carriage, and later complained about dissatisfaction with the hotel's bills. When we finally arrived in London the next morning, it was hard to say which of us was in a worse mood.

　　"You'd better stop by Baker Street," I said, "and Mr. Holmes may have a new insight." ”

　　"I wouldn't have adopted anything more valuable than the last," Amberley said viciously. But he still went with me. I had telegraphed Holmes of the time of our arrival, and when I got there I saw a note saying that he had gone to Lewisam and hoped we would go. It was astonishing, but even more surprising was that he was not alone in our patron's living room. Next to him sat a stern-looking, cold-faced man. Dark skinned, wearing gray glasses, and a large Masonic pin prominently pinned to his tie.

　　"This is my friend Mr. Buck," said Holmes. "He himself is also interested in your affairs, Mr. Josiah Amberley, and although we are all investigating separately, we have a common question for you."

　　Mr. Amberley sat down heavily. From his nervous eyes and twitching facial features, I could see that he was aware of the danger of getting closer.

　　"What's the problem, Mr. Holmes?"

　　"There's only one question: What did you do with the body?"

　　He screamed and jumped up, his thin hands clutching in the air. He opened his mouth, and for an instant he looked like a falcon in a net. In this instant we catch a glimpse of the true face of Josiah Amberley, whose soul was as ugly as his limbs. He leaned back in his chair and covered his lips with his hands, as if suppressing a cough. Holmes pounced like a tiger and grabbed him by the throat and pressed his face to the ground. So a white pill spat out from between his tight lips.

　　"It's not that simple, Josiah Amberley, things have to go by the rules. Buck, what do you think? ”

　　"My carriage is right at the door," said our taciturn companion.

　　"It's only a few hundred yards from the station, and we can go together. Watson, you're waiting here, and I'll be back in half an hour. ”

　　The old pigment merchant's strong body had lion-like strength, but there was no way to fall into the hands of two experienced grappling experts. He was dragged into the waiting carriage, and I remained alone to guard the terrible dwelling. Holmes returned before the scheduled time, accompanied by a young and shrewd police officer.

　　"I left Buck to handle those formalities," said Holmes, "Watson, you don't know Buck as a man, he's my most hated opponent on the Surrey Waterfront." So when you mention the tall, dark-skinned guy, I easily say what you didn't mention. He's got a couple of beautiful cases, haven't he, the police officer? ”

　　"Of course he intervened a little," the officer replied with reservations.

　　"There is no doubt that his methods are just as irregular as mine. You know, irregularities are sometimes useful. In your case, you have to warn that whatever he says will be used against himself, but that doesn't force the rogue to confess. ”

　　"Maybe not. But we came to the same conclusion, Mr. Holmes. Don't think that we don't have an opinion on this case, if then we won't meddle. When you step in and take away our honor in a way we cannot use, you should forgive our irritation. ”

　　"You can rest assured that you will not be robbed of your honor, McKinnon. I assure you that I will not come forward again in the future. As for Buck, he did nothing but what I told him. ”

　　The officer seemed relieved.

　　"Mr. Holmes, you are so generous. Praise or condemnation doesn't affect you much, but we, as soon as the newspaper asks a question, it's hard to deal with. ”

　　"It's true. But they're definitely going to ask questions, so it's best to have the answers ready. For example, how do you answer when a resourceful, competent journalist asks what exactly caused you to be suspicious and finally confirmed that this is the truth? ”

　　The officer looked confused.

　　"Mr. Holmes, we do not seem to have seized any facts at the moment. You say that the criminal tried to commit suicide in front of three witnesses because he murdered his wife and her lover. Do you have any other facts? ”

　　"Are you going to search?"

　　"Three policemen will arrive soon."

　　"Then you'll figure it out soon." The corpses would not be too far away, looking for them in the cellars and gardens. Digging in these suspicious places will not take long. This house is older than the water pipe, there must be an old well that is not used, try your luck. ”

　　"How would you know? What about the crime? ”

　　"I'll tell you how this is done, and then I'll explain it to you, and I'll explain it even more to my old friend who has been working hard and contributing a lot." First of all, I have to let you know the psychology of this person. This man is peculiar —so I think his destination is not so much a gallows as a detention center for psychiatric crimes. To put it further, his nature belongs to the Italian Middle Ages, not to modern England. He was an incorrigible scrooge, and his wife, unable to tolerate his miserliness, could go with any wife at any time. This happened to be the case with this good chess doctor. Amberley was good at playing chess, Watson, which shows that his type of intelligence was scheming. He, like all scrooges, was a jealous man, and jealousy drove him crazy. Whether true or not, he had always suspected his wife of adultery, so he decided to take revenge and made plans with demonic cunning. Come here! ”

　　Holmes led us through the passage, confidently, as if he had lived in this room. He stopped in front of the vault's open door.

　　"Drink! What a bad smell of paint! The officer shouted.

　　"This is our first clue," said Holmes, "and you have to thank Watson for his observation, which, though he failed to pursue, gave me a clue to trace." Why did this man fill the house with such a strong smell at this moment? He, of course, wanted to cover up another smell he wanted to hide—a suspicious stench. Then there's this room with an iron gate and a fence—a completely sealed room. What conclusion can be drawn by linking these two facts together? I can only make up my mind to inspect the house myself. When I checked the box office tickets at hay city theaters—another credit to Dr. Watson—and made sure that the second row of the box that night, Numbers Thirty and Thirty-two, was empty, I sensed the seriousness of the case. Amberley didn't go to the theater, and his alibi didn't stand. He made a serious mistake when he asked my savvy friend to see the seat number of the ticket he had bought for his wife. The question now is how can I inspect the house. I sent an assistant to the village least relevant to the case as far as I could think of, and summoned him at a time when it was impossible for him to return. To avoid mistakes, I asked Watson to follow him. The pastor's name was, of course, found in my Who's Who. Have I made it clear? ”

　　"Really tall," the policeman said in awe.

　　"Don't worry about someone bothering me, I broke into the house. If I had to change my profession, I would choose the night thief profession, and I would definitely become a professional expert. Notice what I found. Look at the gas pipes that follow the footboard of the wall. It goes up the corner and has a faucet in the corner. The tube reached into the vault, and the terminal was in a circular window in the center of the ceiling, completely covered by a flower window, but the mouth was wide open. Any time you turn on the switch outside, the house will be filled with gas. With the doors and windows closed and the switches wide open, no one locked in the hut could remain awake after two minutes. I don't know what despicable method he used to trick them into the hut, but as soon as they entered the door they had to be at his mercy. ”

　　The officer examined the tube with interest. "One of our clerks mentioned the smell of coal," he said, "and of course the doors and windows were open by then, and the paint — or a portion of the paint — was already on the wall." According to him, he had started painting the day before the accident. Mr. Holmes, what's next? "Oh, then something happened that I didn't expect. Early in the morning as I climbed out of the pantry window, I felt a hand grab my collar and a voice said, 'Rogue, what are you doing here?' I struggled and turned my head and saw my friend and my counterpart, Mr. Barker in sunglasses. This wonderful encounter made us both laugh. He seems to have been investigated by Dr. Ray Ernest and has also come to the conclusion that the murder was committed. He had been monitoring the house for days, and had followed Dr. Watson as a suspicious person who had been here. He couldn't arrest Watson, but when he saw a man crawling out of the pantry, he couldn't help it. So I told him about the situation, and we worked on the case together. ”

　　"Why with Him and from us?"

　　"Because at that time I was ready to do this experiment with such a complete result. I'm afraid you won't do that. ”

　　The officer smiled.

　　"Yes, probably not. Mr. Holmes, as I understand it, you now want to leave the case alone and to pass on to us the results you have obtained. ”

　　"Of course, it's my habit."

　　"Well, I thank you on behalf of the police. The case could not have been clearer, as you say, and there would be no difficulty in finding the body. ”

　　"I'll show you a little more ironclad facts," said Holmes, "and I believe that this is something which even Mr. Amberley himself is unaware of." Officer, as you explore conclusions, you should put yourself in the shoes of what you would do if you were a party. Doing so requires a certain amount of imagination, but it is very effective. Let's say you're locked up in this little house, you don't have two minutes to live, you want to get in touch with the outside world, or even want to take revenge on the devil who may be mocking you outside the door. ”

　　"Write a note."

　　"That's right. You want to tell people how you died. Can't write it on paper, that will be seen. If you write on the wall, it will attract the attention of the servants. Look here now! Just above the footboard there was a trace of purple pencil: 'We are--' So far there is no further. ”

　　"How do you explain this?"

　　"It couldn't be clearer. It was written when the poor man was lying on the floor dying. Before he could finish writing, he lost consciousness. ”

　　"He was writing 'We were murdered.'" ”

　　"I think so too. If you find a purple pencil on a corpse—"

　　"Rest assured, we will look carefully." But what about those securities? It is clear that there has been no theft at all. But he does have these securities, which we have confirmed. ”

　　"He must have hidden the securities in a safe place." When the whole elopement is forgotten, he will suddenly find the possessions and declare that the sinful conscience found that they had sent the stolen goods back, or that they had fallen to the ground. ”

　　"It looks like you did solve all the problems," the sergeant said. "He came to us for granted, but I don't understand why he went to you?"

　　"Pure showmanship!" Holmes replied. "He felt so smart and so confident that he didn't think anyone could do anything to him. He could say to any neighbor who suspected him: 'Look at what I have done, I have not only sought the police, I have even consulted Sherlock Holmes.' '”

　　The officer laughed.

　　"We must forgive you for the word 'even,' Mr. Holmes," he said, "and this is the most ingenious case I know." ”

　　Two days later my friend threw me a copy of the North Surrey Observer biweekly magazine. Under a series of exaggerated headlines that begin with "Murder House" and end with "Detective Detective Excellence in the Police Station", there is a column full of reports that first recounts the history of the case. The paragraph at the end of the article is evident. It reads:

　　"Officer McKinnon, with his extraordinary keen observational power, deduced from the smell of paint another smell that might be disguised, such as gas; and boldly deduced that the vault was the place of the murder; and then found the body in an abandoned well cleverly disguised by a kennel; all of which will go down in the history of criminology as an example of the ingenuity of our professional detectives."

　　"Well, well, McKinnon is really good," said Holmes with a tolerant laugh. "Watson, you can put it into our own archives. One day people will know the truth. ”