Sherlock Holmes Detective Memoirs (Part 2)

Hunchback man

　　One summer night months after I was married, I sat by the fireplace smoking my last bucket of cigarettes and snoozed at a novel because I was exhausted from day's work. My wife had gone upstairs, and just now there was the sound of the door of the vestibule being locked, and I knew that the servants had also gone to rest. I got up from my chair and was pounding my pipe to ash when I suddenly heard a doorbell ring.

　　I looked at my watch, and it was twelve o'clock. It was so late that it was impossible for anyone to visit; it was obviously a patient, and it might still be a patient who needed to be nursed all night. I walked to the vestibule with a look of displeasure on my face and opened the door. To my surprise, on the stone steps outside the door stood Sherlock Holmes.

　　"Ah, Watson," said Holmes, "I hope it is not too late for me to come to you." ”

　　"My dear friend, please come in."

　　"You seem surprised, no wonder! I think, you're relieved now!

　　alas! Why are you still smoking the same Arcadian mix you smoked before marriage! Judging by the fluffy soot that falls on your clothes, I'm right. Let people know at a glance that you have always been accustomed to wearing military uniforms. Watson, if you don't change the habit of hiding a handkerchief in your sleeve, you don't always look like a pure commoner. Can you keep me overnight tonight? ”

　　"Welcome."

　　"You told me that you have a single male guest room, and I don't see any guests now. Your hat rack illustrates this. ”

　　"I'm glad you can stay here."

　　"Thank you. Well, I'll take up an empty hook on the hat rack. Unfortunately, I found out that there were British workers in your house. He was a symbol of misfortune. I hope, it's not about building gutters, right? ”

　　"No, it's gas repair."

　　"Ah, his tunic boots have left two stud marks on the lacquered cloth you have laid on the floor, and the light is shining on them. No, thank you, I've had dinner at Waterloo, but I'm glad to have a bucket of smoke with you. ”

　　I handed him my pipe, and he sat across from me and smoked silently for a moment. I know that he wouldn't come to me at such a time if something important didn't matter, so I waited patiently for him to speak.

　　"I see you've been very busy with your medical work lately," he said, glancing at me attentively.

　　"Yes, I've been busy all day," I replied. "It seems to you that I would be very stupid to say this," I added, "but I really don't know how you deduced it." ”

　　Holmes grinned.

　　"My dear Watson, I know your habits better than anyone," said Holmes, "and when you go to the doctor, you walk when you are close, and when you are far away you take a carriage. I see that your boots, though worn, are not dirty at all, so it is not difficult to know that you are now very busy and often take the carriage. ”

　　"Wonderful!" I said aloud.

　　"It is very simple," said Holmes, "that the results proposed by a man who is good at reasoning often amaze those around him, because they ignore some of the subtleties on which the inferences are based." My dear friend, you exaggerate when writing your work, deliberately leaving some plot behind and not revealing it to the reader, which of course has the same effect. Now, as in the case of those readers, I have some clues because of a strange case that is racking, but I still lack a point or two to make my theory more perfect. But I'll find it, Watson. I'm sure I'll find it! Holmes's eyes were shining brightly, and his thin cheeks were slightly glowing red. At this time, he was no longer reserved, showing a look of innocence and enthusiasm, but this was only a moment's time. When I looked over again, his face returned to the rigid appearance of an Indian, which made many people think that he had lost his humanity, as if he were like a machine.

　　"There are some notable features in such cases," said Holmes, "I might even say, some rare notable features." I have conducted a survey of the facts of the case, and I think it is close to solving the case. If you can help me on this last step, you've done me a big favor. ”

　　"I'd love to help."

　　"Will you be able to go as far away as Aldershot tomorrow?"

　　"I believe Jackson can practice medicine for me."

　　"Great. I want to leave from Waterloo Station by train at 11:00. ”

　　"That way, I'll have time to prepare."

　　"Well, if you're not very sleepy, I can tell you about the case and what needs to be done."

　　"Before you came, I was very sleepy, but now I am very sober."

　　"I will tell you as briefly as possible about the facts of the case, and I will never miss any important plot. Probably you've read some of the reports on this. That was the supposed murder of Colonel Barkley of the Munster Infantry Regiment in Oldershat, which I was investigating. ”

　　"I haven't heard of it at all."

　　"It seems that this case has not received enough attention, except on the ground. The case only happened two days ago. The brief picture goes something like this: "You know, the Munster Infantry Regiment is one of the most famous Irish regiments in the British Army. It established Qigong in two counterinsurgency campaigns in Crimea and India.

　　Since then, he has made many achievements in every battle. The army had been under the command of Colonel James Buckley until Monday night. The colonel was a brave and experienced soldier, who began as an ordinary soldier, was promoted for his bravery in fighting against the Indian rebels, and later commanded his regiment.

　　Colonel Buckley was married when he was a sergeant, and his wife's maiden name was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the former sergeant of the regiment. Therefore, it is conceivable that the young couple (because they were still very young at the time) were excluded by some society in the new environment. But they soon adapted to the new environment, and I had heard that Mrs. Buckley was very popular with the female relatives of the regiment, and that her husband was loved by officers of the same rank. I can add that she is a very beautiful woman, and even now, she has been married for more than thirty years, and her appearance is still very beautiful.

　　"Colonel Barkley's family life always seems to be very happy. I learned a lot from Major Murphy, who said he had never heard of any discord between the couple. In general, he thought Colonel Buckley loved his wife more than his wife. If Colonel Buckley had left his wife one day, he would have been restless. On the other hand, although she also loved Buckley and was loyal to him, she lacked the tenderness of a woman. However, the two of them were recognized as a model middle-aged couple in the regiment. From their marital relationship, people absolutely cannot see anything that will cause future tragedies.

　　"Colonel Barkley's own character seems to be something special. He was usually a tough and lively old soldier, but sometimes he seemed rather rough and vindictive.

　　But this temper of hiss never seemed to have flared up on his wife. I also spoke to five other officers, three of whom and Major Murphy noticed another situation, which was that the Colonel sometimes had a strange depression. The Major said that colonel Buckley seemed to have an invisible hand at the table when he was happily talking and laughing with people, which often erased his smile from his face. A few days before his death, he was in this state of depression, feeling extremely melancholy. This state of depression and a certain superstition is the only unusual thing that his accomplices see in his character. His superstition manifested itself in his dislike of being alone, especially after dark.

　　His boyish characteristics naturally arouse people's discussion and suspicion.

　　"The Munster Infantry Regiment, originally the old 117th Regiment, the 1st Battalion was stationed in Aldershot for many years. The officers who had wives lived outside the barracks. The colonel had been living for all these years in a small cottage called 'Lan Jing', about half a mile from the North Camp, surrounded by courtyards, but less than thirty yards from the road to the west. They hired only one coachman and two maids. Because Mr. and Mrs. Buckley had no children and no guests usually lived in his house, the entire 'Lan Jing' villa was inhabited only by the Colonel and his wife and these three servants.

　　"Now let's talk about what happened at 'Lan Jing' villa at ninety o'clock last Monday night.

　　"It seems that Mrs. Buckley was a Roman Catholic who cared about the St. George's Charity. The charity is organized by the Watt Street Chapel and specializes in giving away old clothes to the poor. At eight o'clock that night, the Charity Society held a meeting. Mrs. Buckley hastily ate and went to the meeting. As she was out, the coachman heard her say a few common words to her husband and told him he would be back soon. Then she went to invite the young Miss Morrison, who lived in the neighboring villa, to the meeting. The meeting lasted forty minutes, and at nine thirty Mrs. Buckley returned home, and the two broke up as they passed miss Morrison's house.

　　"Villa Lan Jing has a room used as an early morning living room, which faces the road and has a large glass door leading to the lawn. The lawn was thirty yards wide, separated from the road by only a low wall with iron railings on it. When Mrs. Buckley came home, she entered the room, and the curtains had not been lowered, because it was not usually used at night. But Mrs. Buckley herself lit the lamp, then rang the bell and asked the maid, Jane Stewart, to bring her a cup of tea, contrary to her usual habits. The Colonel was sitting in the dining room when he heard that his wife had returned, and went to the living room early in the morning to see her. The coachman saw the Colonel pass through the hallway and into the room. The colonel never came out alive again.

　　Madame Buckley had asked for tea, which had been prepared ten minutes later, but the maid approached the door with great surprise, for she heard the master and the couple arguing bitterly.

　　She knocked on the door, and no one answered, turned the door knob again, and found that the door was locked from the inside. Naturally, she ran back to tell the cook, and the two maids went down the hallway with the coachman and heard the two still arguing fiercely. They unanimously confirmed that only the voices of Barkley and her wife were heard. Buckley's voice was low and incoherent, so none of the three of them could hear what he was saying. On the other hand, the woman's voice was very painful, and she could hear it clearly when she spoke aloud. 'You coward! She rolled over and over and over again, 'What now?' Now what? Give me back my youth. I don't want to live with you anymore! You coward! You coward! That's what she said intermittently. Then the servants heard the man's sudden terrible cry, and at the same time heard a rumbling sound and a thrilling scream from the woman. Scream after scream came from inside, and the coachman, knowing that tragedy had occurred, rushed to the door, trying to break through the door. However, he could not enter, and the two maids were already frightened and panicked, and could not help at all. However, he suddenly had an idea, ran out of the front door, and circled the lawn facing a long French window. One of the long windows was open, and I had heard that in the summer it was always open, so the coachman effortlessly climbed in through the window. By this time his mistress had stopped screaming, lost consciousness, and was frozen on the couch; the unfortunate soldier had fallen straight into a pool of his own blood, his feet slumped on one side of the couch, his head on the ground, near the corner of the stove baffle.

　　The coachman found that he could not save his man, and naturally first thought of opening the door, but encountered an unexpected and strange difficulty. The key was not on the inside of the door, and he couldn't find it anywhere in the house. So he went out of the window and got a policeman and a medic to help. The lady, of course, was on serious suspicion and, as she was still in a state of fainting, was carried to her own room.

　　The Colonel's body was laid on the couch, and then the scene of the massacre was carefully examined.

　　The unfortunate old soldier suffered a fatal wound at the back of his head that was two inches long, apparently caused by a blow from a blunt object. It is not difficult to speculate on what this murder weapon is. On the floor was a carved hardwood stick with a bone handle next to the corpse. During his lifetime, the colonel collected all kinds of weapons, which were brought back from the different countries where he fought. The police speculated that the stick was one of his spoils of war. The servants said that they had never seen the stick before, but if it was mixed with a large number of precious objects in the room, it could be ignored and ignored. The police found no other important clues in the room. There was only one thing that was inexplicable: the missing key was neither on Mrs. Barkley nor on the victim, nor was it anywhere in the room. Finally, a locksmith was found from Aldershot and the door was opened.

　　"That's the case with this case, Watson, and I went to Aldershaut on Tuesday morning at the invitation of Major Murphy to help the police solve the case. I suppose you must have admitted that the case was interesting enough, but after observing it, I immediately felt that the case was actually more bizarre than I had initially thought.

　　"Before I examined this room, I interrogated the servants, and the facts they were talking about were what I had just told you. Maid Jane Stewart recalls another noteworthy detail. You must remember that as soon as she heard the quarrel, she went to find two other servants to come back with her. The first time she was there alone, she said that the host couple had kept their voices down so low that she could barely hear anything, and that she had concluded that they were arguing not on what they said, but on the tone of their voices. But, under my intense questioning, she remembered that she had heard the lady say the word David twice. This is extremely important in speculating about the cause of their sudden quarrel. You remember, the Colonel's name was James.

　　"One of the things in this case that left a great impression on both the servants and the policemen was that the colonel's face had changed out of shape. According to them, the Colonel's face showed an extremely terrible expression of horror, which had become less like the face of a normal person. This terrible face made more than one person who saw him almost faint. It must have been that he had foreseen his own fate, causing him extreme horror. Of course, this was entirely in line with the police, and the colonel might have seen that his wife was going to murder him. The fact that the wound was in the back of his head did not quite contradict this statement, because he might have turned around to avoid the blow. Mrs. Buckley, having suffered an acute encephalitis attack, was temporarily delirious and unable to learn from her.

　　"I know from the police that Miss Morrison, who went out with Mrs Barkley that night, denied knowing what caused her female companion to get angry when she got home.

　　"Watson, after I gathered these facts, I smoked several buckets of cigarettes in a row, thinking, trying to distinguish which are critical and which are purely accidental. Undoubtedly, the most unusual and intriguing aspect of this case is the strange loss of the key to the door. A very detailed search has been carried out in the interior, but nothing has been found. So, the key must have been taken, that's pretty clear. But neither the Colonel nor his wife took it, so there must have been a third person who had entered the room, and this third person could only enter through the window. In my opinion, only a careful inspection of the room and the lawn can reveal some traces left by this mysterious figure. You know my method of investigation, Watson. There was no method in the investigation of this case that I had not used. Finally I found traces, but they were very different from what I had expected. One man did go indoors, and he came in through the lawn from the main road. I got a total of five very clear footprints of the man: one just off the road where he had climbed over the low wall; two on the lawn; and two less obvious, left on the dirty floor near the window when he had climbed through the window. He apparently ran past the lawn because his toes were much deeper than his heel prints. But what amazed me was not this man, but his companion. ”

　　"His companion!"

　　Holmes took a large sheet of tissue paper from his pocket and carefully spread it out on his knee.

　　"What do you see here?" Holmes asked.

　　On the paper is a paw print of a small animal. There are five very clear claw fingers, very long claw tips, and the whole trace is the size of a snack spoon.

　　"It's a dog," I said.

　　"Have you ever heard of a dog climbing a curtain?" But I found clear traces of the animal climbing up the curtains. ”

　　"So, a monkey?"

　　"But this is not a monkey's paw print."

　　"So, what is it?"

　　"Neither a dog, nor a cat, nor a monkey, nor anything else we are familiar with. I once managed to draw the image of this animal from the size of the paw print.

　　These are the four paw prints when it stands still. You see, the distance from the front melon to the hind paws is at least fifteen inches. Add that to the length of the head and neck, and you can conclude that the animal is at least two feet long, and if it has a tail, it may be even longer. But now let's look at another size. This animal has walked around before, and we measured the distance it took, each step only about three inches. You can tell that this thing has a very long body and very short legs. Although this thing did not leave any hair, but its general shape, must be the same as I said, it can climb the curtains, this is a carnivore. ”

　　"How did you deduce that?"

　　"Because there was a canary cage hanging from the window, it climbed up to the curtain, as if to grab the bird."

　　"So, what kind of beast is it?"

　　"Ah, if I could name it, it would be so helpful to solve the case." In general, it could be something like a weasel, but it's much bigger than the ones I've ever seen. ”

　　"But what does this have to do with this crime?"

　　"That's not clear either. However, you can see that we already know a lot about it. We know that because the curtains were not closed and the lights were lit in the house, there was a man who once stood on the main road and saw the Buckleys arguing. We also know that he ran across the lawn with a strange animal and walked into the house, or maybe he hit the colonel, or maybe the colonel saw him and fell down in fright, and his head broke in the corner of the stove. Finally, we also learn the strange fact that the intruder took the key with him when he left. ”

　　"These discoveries of yours seem to have made things more confusing than before," I said.

　　"Yes, these facts do show that this case is more complicated than originally thought. I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I had to explore the case on the other hand. But, Watson, I've delayed your sleep, and tomorrow on our way to Aldershaut, I can tell you the rest in detail. ”

　　"Thank you, you've talked about the most interesting part, you can't stop."

　　"That's right. When Mrs. Buckley left the house at half past seven, she and her husband were still very friendly. I think I have already said that although she is not very gentle and considerate, the coachman hears her and the colonel's tone of voice is still very harmonious. Now, equally certain, as soon as she returned, she went to the morning living room where she was unlikely to see her husband; and, as a woman often did when she was agitated, ordered her to prepare tea. Later, when the Colonel went in to see her, she suddenly rebuked the Colonel with excitement. So between half past seven and nine, something must have happened that caused her to completely change her feelings for the Colonel. But Miss Morrison had been with Mrs. Buckley for an hour and a half, and it was therefore entirely certain that, though Miss Morrison did not admit it, she must have known some facts about it.

　　"I had suspected that perhaps this young woman had anything to do with the old soldier, and she now admitted to the Colonel's wife. This explains why the Colonel's wife returned home in a huff, or why the girl denied that anything had happened. This speculation is also not entirely contradictory to what the servant heard. But Mrs. Buckley's mention of David; the colonel's faithfulness to his wife is well known; and this is not consistent with this, let alone the tragic intrusion of a third party, which of course has nothing to do with the above assumptions. It would have been difficult to choose the right steps, but, in general, I was inclined to abandon the idea of any relationship between the Colonel and Miss Morrison, but I was more convinced that the maiden knew the reason for Mrs. Barkley's hatred of her husband. My solution was simple: to visit Miss Morrison and to explain to her that I was absolutely certain that she knew these facts, and to convince her that if the matter were not clarified, her friend Mrs. Buckley would be tried for primary responsibility.

　　"Miss Morrison is a thin and gentle girl, with shy eyes and pale yellow hair, and is very clever and witty. After I had spoken, she sat there, pondered for a moment, and then turned to me and made a firm statement of something very noteworthy, which I will briefly tell you.

　　"'I promised my friend never to speak of it, and since I have promised it, I should do so,' said Miss Morrison, 'but my poor beloved friend has been accused of such a grave crime, and she herself is unable to speak because of her illness, and if I can indeed help her, then I think, I would rather not obey the agreement and tell you all that happened on Monday night."'

　　"'We came back from The Watt Street Charity Society at about eight o'clock. Our way home is through Hudson Street, which is a very peaceful avenue. There was only one street lamp on the street, on the left. As we approached the street lamp, I saw a man approaching us, with a very hunched back, carrying something like a small box on one of his shoulders. He looked crippled because his whole body was slumped down and his knees bent as he walked. As we walked past him, he looked up at us in the light of the street lamp. As soon as he saw us, he stopped and let out a startling exclamation: "Oh my God, it's Nancy!" Mrs. Buckley's face turned as miserable as a dead man's. If it weren't for the terrible-looking man holding her up, she would have fallen to the ground. I was going to call the police, but to my surprise, Mrs. Buckley spoke very politely to the man.

　　Mrs. Buckley said in a trembling voice, "For thirty years I thought you were dead, Henry. ”

　　"I'm dead," the man said. The tone of his speech sounded frightening. His face was gloomy and terrible, and the look in his eyes at that time was something I still dream about a lot. His hair and beard were gray, and his cheeks were crumpled like dry apples.

　　"Please take a few steps first, my dear, I want to talk to this man without fear," she tried to say more easily, but her face was still deadly pale, and her lips trembled so much that she could hardly speak.

　　"'I went first as she asked, and they talked together for a few minutes. Then she came down the street with her eyes on fire, and I saw the poor crippled man standing by the street lamppost, waving his clenched fist into the air, as if mad. She didn't say a word until I was at my door, when she took my hand and begged me not to tell anyone what was happening on the way.

　　"This is an old acquaintance of mine, and now I'm down." She said. I promised her not to say anything, and she kissed me, and I haven't seen her since. I have now told you the whole truth. I used to refuse to tell the police because I didn't know the danger of my dear friend's position. I now know that saying everything out can only be in her favor. That's what Miss Morrison told me, Watson. As you can imagine, this to me is like seeing a glimmer of light in the night. Everything that was previously irrelevant immediately returned to its original appearance. I have vaguely seen the whole process of this case. My next step was obviously to find the man who had left such an unusual impression on Mrs. Buckley. If the person is still in Oldshot, it is not a difficult task. There are not many residents in this place, and a crippled person is bound to attract attention. I spent the day looking for him, and in the late afternoon, that is, this evening, Watson, I found him. The man's name was Henry Wood, and he lived on the street where the two women met him. He had been in this place for just five days. I was very opportunistic with the landlady as a registrant. The man was a trickster, going for a run every day after dusk in the privately run soldiers' clubs, each of which performed several shows. He often carried an animal with him, packed in that small box. The landlady seemed to be terrified of this thing, for she had never seen an animal like this. According to the landlady, he often used the animal to play a few tricks. All the landlady could tell me was so much. She added that it was strange that a tortured man like him could survive, sometimes saying strange things, and that the landlady had heard him moaning and crying in his bedroom for the last two nights. As for the money, he was not short of money, but when he paid the deposit, he gave the landlady a silver coin like florin [silver coin, two shilling silver coins from England at the end of the nineteenth century]. Silver coins. Watson, she showed me, it was an Indian rupee.

　　"My dear friend, now you can see perfectly why I came to you. It was clear that after the two women had broken up with this man, he had followed them far behind, and he saw the quarrel between the couple from the window and broke in, while the thing he had packed in a small wooden box slipped out. All of this is entirely certain. But what happened in that room, he was the only one in the world who could tell us. ”

　　"So are you going to ask him?"

　　"Sure, but there needs to be a witness present."

　　"So are you asking me to be a witness?"

　　"If you want to, that's natural. If he could make things clear, it would be the best. If he does not say so, then we have no other choice but to appeal for his arrest. ”

　　"But how do you know that when we got back there, he was still there?"

　　"You can believe that I have taken some steps and I sent a child I hired on Baker Street to guard him, and wherever this man went, he could not get rid of the child. Tomorrow we'll find him on Hudson Street, Watson. If I delay you any longer and go to bed, then I am guilty. ”

　　At noon, we arrived at the scene of the massacre, guided by my friend, and immediately headed to Hudson Street. Although Holmes was good at hiding his feelings, I could see at a glance that he was trying to suppress his excitement. I myself was half curious, half amused, and I was also extremely excited, which I experienced every time I investigated a case with him.

　　"That's the street," said Holmes as we turned into a short street lined with two-story brick buildings, "ah, Simpson has come to report." ”

　　"He's inside, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street wanderer running toward us.

　　"Very good, Simpson!" Holmes patted the wanderer on the head and said, "Come, Watson. It's this house. Holmes handed over a business card and claimed that something important was coming. After a while, we met with the people we were going to visit.

　　Despite the heat, the man was huddled by the fire, and the hut was as hot as an oven. The man hunched over and shrunk his body in a chair, in a way giving an indescribably ugly impression. But when he turned his face to us, it was thin and dark, but it must have been quite beautiful before. His yellow eyes glared at us suspiciously, and he neither spoke nor stood up, pointing only to two chairs for us to sit down.

　　"I suppose you were Henry Wood of India," said Holmes with a cheerful face, "and we are here to visit for the little matter of Colonel Barkley's death." ”

　　"How can I know about this?"

　　"That's what I'm looking into. I think, you know, if you don't get this sorted out, one of your old friends, Mrs. Barkley, is likely to be tried for murder. ”

　　The man was shocked.

　　"I don't know who you are," he cried out, "and I don't know how you learned about it, but you dare to swear that what you said to me was true?" ”

　　"Of course it's true, they're going to arrest her as soon as she regains consciousness."

　　"Oh my God! Are you also from the police station? ”

　　"No."

　　"So, what does this have to do with you?"

　　"It is incumbent upon everyone to uphold justice."

　　"You can take my word for it, she's innocent."

　　"So it was you who committed the crime?"

　　"No, not me."

　　"So who killed Colonel James Buckley?"

　　"It was intolerable that he died. Remember, though, that if I get what I want and open his head to the flower, then he deserves to die at my hands. If it weren't for the fact that he was ashamed and fell to his death, I swear I would have killed him. You want me to talk about it. Well, there's no need for me to hide it, because I'm not ashamed of it.

　　"Here's the thing, sir. You see I now have a camel's back and crooked ribs, but in those days Corporal Henry Wood was one of the prettiest men in the 117th Infantry Regiment. We were stationed in a barracks in India, and we called it Burti. Buckley, who died a few days ago, was a sergeant in the same company as me, and there was a beautiful woman in the regiment at that time, Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the Marine Sergeant. There were two people who loved her, and she loved only one of them, and you saw this poor thing curled up in front of the fire, and you would have been very amused when you heard me say that she loved me because she was handsome.

　　"Ah, though I won her love, her father promised her to Buckley. I was a daredevil, desperate teenager, and Buckley was an educated man who was about to be promoted to officer. But the girl was still loyal to me, and if it weren't for the Rebellion in India and the riots in the whole country, it seemed that I could have married her.

　　"We were all trapped in Bourty, our regiment, half an artillery company, a Sikh company, and many civilians and women. At this time ten thousand rebels surrounded us, and they gathered around a rat cage like a group of ferocious hunting dogs. During the second week of the siege, we ran out of drinking water. General Neil's column was moving inland at that time, so the question arose: whether we could get in touch with them, and that was our only way out, because we could not expect to rush out with all the women and children. So I volunteered to break through to General Neil for help. My request was granted, and I consulted with Sergeant Buckley. He knew the terrain better than anyone else, so he drew me a road map so that I could follow the map through the rebel lines. At ten o'clock that night, I began my journey. There were a thousand lives waiting for rescue, but when I climbed down the wall that night, I had only one person in mind.

　　"I was going through a dry river channel, and we had expected it to cover me from the enemy's sentry, but as soon as I crawled to the corner of the river, I broke into the ambush of six enemy troops, who were crouching in the darkness waiting for me. In an instant, I was knocked unconscious, and my hands and feet were tied. But my real trauma was in my heart, not in my head, because when I woke up to hear their conversation, though I knew only a little of their language, I understood enough that my partner, the man who had routed me, had betrayed me to the enemy through an indigenous servant.

　　"Ah, I don't need to go into detail about this part. You now know what James Buckley is good at doing. The next day Bourty was relieved by General Neil, but the rebels took me with them as they retreated, and I never saw a single white man for many years. I was tortured, so I managed to escape, and I was caught and tortured again. You can see with your own eyes that they made me look like this. Some of them took me with me to Nepal and later to Darjeeling. The mountain people there killed the rebels who had brought me, and I was once again their slave before I escaped. But I fled not south, but had to flee north, all the way to Afghanistan. I wandered there for a few years and finally returned to Punjab. I spent most of my time there living among the natives and learned to juggle tricks to make ends meet. Why would a poor cripple like me go back to England and let some of my old colleagues know of my situation? Even if I crave revenge, I don't want to go back. I'd rather Nancy and my old friends think Henry Wood is dead straight rather than let them see him alive, on crutches like a chimpanzee. They were convinced that I was dead, and I wanted them to think that way. I've heard that Buckley has married Nancy and has risen very quickly in the regiment, but even so, I don't want to tell the truth.

　　"However, in the old age of people, homesickness arises spontaneously. For several years, I dreamed of seeing Britain's lush green land and countryside. Later, I finally decided to see my hometown again before I died. I saved up money to pay for the journey back to my hometown, and I went to the garrison because I knew the life of the soldiers, how to make them happy, and to make them live. ”

　　"The story you tell is very moving," said Sherlock Holmes, "and I have heard that you met Mrs. Buckley, and you recognize each other. I suppose later you followed her home and saw her arguing with her husband from the window, and Mrs. Buckley probably reprimanded him to his face for his behavior toward you. You can't help but run across the lawn and rush into them. ”

　　"That's exactly what I am, sir, but as soon as he saw me, his face changed, and I had never seen such an ugly face before. Then he fell backwards and slammed headlong into the stove guard. In fact, he was already dead before he fell. I sensed on his face that he was dead, as clear as I would read a textbook on the fireplace. As soon as he saw me, it was like a bullet hitting his heart, the heart that had done something wrong. ”

　　"And later?"

　　"Then Nancy fainted, and I hurriedly picked up the key to open the door from her hand, intending to open the door and call for help. But at this time I felt that it was better to leave it alone, because this matter seemed to be unfavorable to me, and if I was caught, my secret would be fully exposed. I hurriedly slipped the key into my pocket and dropped my cane to catch the flute that had climbed up the curtains. I grabbed it and put it back in the box, and fled the room as quickly as possible. ”

　　"Who's Tedi?" Holmes asked.

　　The man leaned forward and pulled open the door of a cage in the corner of the room, and in a blink of an eye a beautiful reddish-brown critter slipped out of the cage. Its body was thin and soft, with weasel-like legs, a slender nose, and beautiful red eyes, and I had never seen any other animal with such beautiful eyes.

　　"It's a mongoose," I shouted.

　　"Yes, some people call it that, and some people call it badger." The man said, "I call it the Snake Shrew, and Teddy catches cobras amazingly fast." I have a snake with its fangs removed here, and Tedi performs snake hunting in the soldiers' club every night to entertain the soldiers.

　　"Any other questions?" Mr. ”

　　"Well, if Mrs. Buckley suffers a great misfortune, we'll come back to you."

　　"Of course, if that's the case, I'll come myself."

　　"If it weren't for that, then there would be no need to reinvent the ugly things that the deceased did in the past." Now that you know that for thirty years he has been rebuked by his conscience for doing bad things in the past, he should at least be satisfied. Ah, Major Murphy walked down the street. Goodbye, Wood. I would like to know if anything has happened since yesterday. ”

　　Before the Major could reach the corner, we caught up with him just in time.

　　"Ah, Holmes," said the Major, "I suppose you have heard that this is a complete mediocrity. ”

　　"So, what's going on?"

　　"Just finished the body examination. Doctors proved that the colonel's death was caused by a stroke.

　　You see, this is just a very simple case. ”

　　"Ah, it can't be any simpler," said Holmes with a smile, "Watson, go, I suppose Aldershot has nothing for us here." ”

　　"One more thing," I said as we came to the station, "if her husband's name is James and the other's name is Henry, why does she mention David?" ”

　　"My dear Watson, if I am really the kind of ideal reasoner you like to describe, then from this one word I should deduce this whole story. This is clearly a reproachful word. ”

　　"The word of rebuke?"

　　"Yeah, you know, David once happened to do something wrong by accident like Sergeant James Barkley. Do you remember Uriah and Bathsheba [David and Uriah and Bathsheba: The Bible records that David, the king of Israel, sent Uriah to the front in order to take as his wife, The Hittite general Uriah of the Israeli army, and Uriah was ambushed and killed.] Is this little story? I'm afraid I've forgotten a little bit about my knowledge of the Bible. But you can look for it in the first or second chapter of the Bible's Book of Samuel, and you can get the story. ”

　　Greek translator

　　Me and Sherlock. Although Mr. Holmes has known him for a long time and is intimate, he rarely hears him talk about his relatives, nor does he rarely hear him talk about his early life. His reticence made me feel even more unkind, so much so that sometimes I saw him as a reclusive freak, a man of no mind and no emotion, who, though intellectually superior, lacked human feelings.

　　His dislike of being close to women and his reluctance to make new friends shows his unsentimental personality traits, but what is particularly ruthless is that he never mentions his family. So I began to think that he was an orphan with no relatives alive. But one day, to my surprise, he talked to me about his brother. One summer evening, after tea, we chatted about the reasons for the change from the golf club to the yellow and red corners, and finally talked about the phenomenon of atavistics and genetic adaptability, and the main point of the discussion was: how much of a person's outstanding talent is due to heredity, and how much is due to the training he received in his early years.

　　"In the case of you," I said, "it seems clear from what you have told me that your ability to observe and your ability to reason depends on your own systematic training." "In a way that is so," said Holmes thoughtfully, "my ancestors were squires, and it seems that they lived the usual life of that class. However, my fetish is inherent in my bloodline. Maybe my grandmother had this pedigree, because she was the sister of the French artist Gilné. This artistic component in the blood can easily have the most peculiar genetic form. "But how do you know it's inherited?" "Because my brother Mycroft mastered the art of reasoning to a higher degree than I mastered." It's really still news for me. If there is another man in England who also has such a strange talent, how can the police and the public not hear anything about him?

　　I said it was because my friend was modest, that's why he thought my brother was better than him. Holmes laughed at my remark.

　　"My dear Watson," said Holmes, "I do not agree with some who list modesty as a virtue. For logicians, everything should be what it should be, and to underestimate oneself and exaggerate one's talents is just as contrary to the truth.

　　So, when I say that Mycroft's powers of observation are stronger than mine, you can believe that my words are no exaggeration to tell the truth. "How old is your brother?" "Seven years older than me." "Why isn't he famous?" "Oh, for example, at the Tiorny Club." I've never heard of such a place, and the expression on my face must have shown that, so Sherlock. Holmes took out his watch and looked at it and said, "TheOrgenie Club is the weirdest club in London, and Mycroft is the weirdest man.

　　He often stayed there from 4:30 p.m. to 7:40 p.m. It's six o'clock now, and if you're in the mood to get out and about on this wonderful evening, I'm happy to introduce these two 'quirks' to you. "Five minutes later, we were on the street and headed for the Regens Circular Square." "You must be wondering," said my friend, "why does McCroft have such talent but is not used for detective work?" In fact, he could not be a detective. "But I guess what you're saying is..." "I said he was smarter than me in observation and reasoning. If the art of detective is just reasoning from being in a armchair, then my brother must be a great detective like no other in the world. But he had neither the desire nor the energy to do detective work. He didn't even bother to prove his assertions, preferring to be considered false rather than bother to prove himself correct. I often asked him questions, and the answers I got from him turned out to be correct. However, there is nothing he can do to present conclusive and strong evidence before a case is brought before it is submitted to a judge or jury. "So, he didn't make a career as a detective?" "Not at all. The detective business I made a living in was nothing more than a pure amateur fetish. He was very good at mathematics and often checked accounts in various government departments. Mycroft lives on Belmer Street and is just a corner from Whitehall. He walked to work every day, leaving early and returning late, every year, with no other activities and never going anywhere else, the only place to go was the Diogenes Club opposite his residence. "I can't think of a club with that name." "Chances you don't know. There are many people in London, some shy by nature, some cynical, who do not want to be with people, but they are not opposed to going to a comfortable place and looking at the latest journals. For this purpose, the Diogenes Club was born, and now it accepts the most withdrawn and least sociable people in town. Members are not allowed to talk to each other. Conversation is absolutely not permitted except in the reception room, and if three fouls are committed that attract the attention of the club committee, the interlocutor will be dismissed. My brother was one of the club founders and I personally found the atmosphere of the club very pleasant. "We walked and talked, turned around at the end of James Street, and came to Belmer Street. Sherlock. Holmes stopped at a doorway not far from Carlton Hall, told me not to speak, and led me into the hall. Through the glass on the door, I saw a large, luxurious room, in which many people sat and read newspapers, each guarding a corner. Holmes led me into a hut from which he could see Bergmel Street, then left me for a moment and soon brought back a man. I knew that was his brother. Mycroft. Holmes was much taller and stouter than his brother. His body was extremely fat, and although his face was wide, in some places it had the well-defined appearance that was characteristic of his brother. His watery eyes were pale gray, shining with energy, and seemed to be often contemplative, a look I had only seen when Sherlock was in his spirit. "It is a pleasure for me to see you, sir," he said, extending a seal-like wide and fat hand, "and it is because of your biography of Sherlock that he has become famous all over the world." By the way, Sherlock, I thought I'd see you come to me last week to discuss the case of the manor's main residence. I think you may be a little overwhelmed. "No, I've got it sorted out," my friend said with a smirk. Of course, this was done by Adams. "Yes, Adams did it." "I was convinced of that from the beginning." The two men sat down by the club's bulge window. "This is the best place for a man to study human beings," said Mycroft, "and look, take these two people who have come to us!" What a good example! "You mean the marbles scorekeeper and the man next to him?" "Well, what do you think of that person?" Then the two men stopped across the window. I could tell that one of the guys had chalk marks on his vest, which was the hallmark of the marbles play. The other was thin and dark, with a hat on the back door of his head and several small bags tucked under his armpits.

　　"I think he's a veteran," Sherlock said. "And he's newly discharged," his brother said. "I think he served in India." "It's a sergeant." "I guess, it's the Royal Gunnel." Sherlock said. "It's a widower." "But there's a kid." "There is more than one child, my dear brother, there is more than one child." "Well," I said with a smile, "it's a little too mysterious for me. "To be sure," replied Sherlock, "he had such a mighty look, with his windswept skin, that it was at a glance that he was a soldier, and not an ordinary soldier; he had recently returned from India. "He was just out of the army and still wore what they called artillery boots," McCroft said. He walked in a manner not like a cavalryman, but he wore a crooked hat, which could be seen from the shallower skin on the upper brow of his eyebrow. His weight did not meet the requirements of being a sapper. So he's an artilleryman. "Also, the very sad look on his face clearly indicates that he has lost some of his dearest people. Judging from the fact that he himself came out to buy something, it seems that he has lost his wife. You see, he's buying things for kids. It was a rattle that showed that there was a child who was very small. His wife may have died after childbirth. He had a villain book under his armpit, indicating that he was still thinking about another child. "That's when I understood why Sherlock. Holmes said that his brother was more discerning than he himself. Sherlock glanced at me and smiled slightly. Mycroft took the snuff from a tortoiseshell box and used a large red silk scarf to brush away the cigarette that had fallen on his body. "By the way, Sherlock," said Mycroft, "I have something very satisfying to your liking, a very unusual question, and I am beginning to analyze and judge. But for me to carry it out to the end, I really don't have that energy. But it was a good opportunity for me to reason. If you're willing to listen to the situation... "My dear Mycroft, I would very much like to." His brother tore a page from his notebook, hurriedly wrote a few words, rang the bell, and handed the paper to the waiter. "I've asked someone to ask Mr. Melas to come here." "He lives upstairs with me, and I know him a little well, and when he has a problem, he comes to me." As far as I know, Mr. Melas is of Greek descent and is proficient in Chinese. His source of subsistence was partly by working as an interpreter in the courthouse and half by guiding the generous Orientals who lived in the Northumberland Street Inn. I think he should let himself tell you about his strange encounter. "After a few minutes came a fat and stout man, whose olive face and dark hair indicated that he was a Southerner, but he spoke as if he were an educated Englishman. He spoke passionately with Sherlock. Holmes shook hands. Hearing that the expert was willing to listen to his adventures, his black eyes shone with joy. "I'm afraid the police won't believe what I'm saying," he said sadly, "precisely because they have never heard of such a thing before." But I knew that unless I figured out the pitiful result of the plaster on that face, my heart would never be light. "I listened," Sherlock said. Holmes said. "It's Wednesday night," said Mr. Melas, "ah, well, this happened on Monday night, you know, two days ago." I am a translator, and perhaps my neighbor has said to you that I can translate all languages - or almost all languages - but because I was born in Greece and I have Greek names, I mainly translate Greek. For many years, I have been one of the best Greek translators in London, and my name has long been known to hotels. "It is not uncommon for foreigners to encounter difficulties, or for tourists to arrive late and often come to me at unusual times to be their interpreter. So it was not surprising to me, therefore, that on Monday night, a fashionably dressed young man, Mr. Latimer, came to my house and asked me to accompany him out in a carriage waiting at the door. He said that a Greek friend had come to visit his house for an incident, and that he himself could not speak any foreign language except for his own Chinese, so he needed an interpreter. He told me that his house was still some way from here, that he lived in Kensington, and that he seemed to be in a hurry, and as soon as we came to the street, he pushed me into the carriage. "I got into the car and immediately became suspicious, for I found that the car I was in was old and damaged, but it was very elaborate, unlike the shabby ordinary four-wheeled carriage in London. Mr. Latimer sat across from me, and I was just about to say that it was a long detour from here to Kensington, but was interrupted by a strange act by my fellow drivers. He took from his arms a frightening, lead-filled short rod, swung it back and forth a few times, as if to test its weight and power, and then without a word he placed it on the seat next to him, and then he closed the window panes on both sides.

　　To my great surprise, I noticed that the windows were covered with paper, as if intent on keeping me from seeing outside. "'I'm sorry to have blocked your view, Mr. Melas,' he said, 'I'm not going to let you see where we're going.' If you can find the same way back, it may be inconvenient for me. As you can imagine, he surprised me with these words. I, the man in the car, was a young man with a big waist and great strength, and even if he didn't have a weapon, I was by no means his opponent. "'This is really a deviant act, Mr. Ratimer,' I stammered, 'you know, it's completely illegal for you to do this.'" "'No doubt it's a bit disrespectful,' he said, 'but we'll compensate you.'" But I must warn you, Mr. Melas, that tonight, whatever happens, if you try to warn or do anything against me, it will be dangerous for you. I draw your attention to the fact that no one knows where you are now, and that you cannot run out of the palm of my hand, either in this four-wheeled carriage or in my house. He spoke calmly, but his voice was harsh and extremely intimidating. I sat there silently, wondering why he was going to kidnap me in such a strange way. But in any case, I knew very well that resistance was useless, so I had to resign myself to fate. "The carriage took about two hours, and I had no idea where I was going. Sometimes the carriage makes a clattering sound, indicating that it is walking on a stone road, and sometimes it is walking smoothly and silently, indicating that it is walking on an asphalt road. Apart from these sound changes, nothing else would make me guess where we are now. The windows were obscured by paper, and the front glass was covered with blue curtains. It was seven o'clock when we left Belmer Street, and by the time we finally stopped, my watch was already nine o'clock. The driver opened the window and I saw a low arched door with a light on it. I hurriedly got out of the carriage, the door opened, and I entered the courtyard, vaguely remembering that when I came in, I saw a lawn lined with trees. I'm not sure if this is a private courtyard or a real country. "Inside the hall was a light of colored kerosene, twisted very small, and all I saw was that the house was very large, with many drawings hanging in it, and nothing else. In the dim light, I could tell that the man who opened the door was short. Described as a middle-aged man, with shoulders forward.

　　He turned to us, and there was a flash of light, and I could see that he was wearing glasses. "'Is it Mr. Melas, Harold?' he said. "'Yes'" "This thing is done beautifully, it is done beautifully! Mr. Melas, we have no malice, but we can't do anything without you. If you're honest with us, you won't regret it, and if you're going to play tricks, then god bless you! He spoke nervously, his voice trembling, mixed with a dry laugh, but I don't know why, he gave me a more terrible impression than the young man. "'What do you want me to do?' I asked. "'Just ask a few questions to the Greek gentleman who visited us and get us answers.' But we tell you to say whatever you want, and you must not say much, otherwise... 'He let out a dry laugh again, 'otherwise, you might as well not have been born at all.' He opened the door and led me into a room that was gorgeously furnished, but the light was still coming from a small light. The room was so big that when I entered the room, my feet were on the carpet, soft and silky, indicating that it was very advanced. I saw some soft velvet chairs, a tall marble white mantelpiece, a pair of Japanese armor on the side, a chair directly under the lamp, and the older man made a gesture and told me to sit down. The young man went out, and suddenly returned through another door, led a man in fat pajamas, and walked slowly toward us. When I walked to the dim light, I could see him more clearly, and his look immediately frightened me. His face is sallow. He was haggard and unusual, with two large bright and bulging eyes, indicating that although he was not physically strong, he was still full of energy. In addition to his weak body, what struck me even more was that his face was covered with strangely shaped rubber paste, and a large piece of gauze was glued to his mouth. "'Did you get the slate, Harold?' As the strange man slumped down in his chair, the older man shouted, 'Have you let go of his hand?' Well, then. Give him a pen. Mr. Melas, please ask him a question and ask him to write down the answer. First ask him, is he ready to sign the document? "The man's eyes were filled with anger." 'No! He wrote in Greek on the slate. "'Is there no room for negotiation?' I asked, as the villain had commanded. "'There is no room for negotiation unless I see her marry with my own eyes, as testified by a Greek priest I know.'" "The older guy smirked viciously and said, 'So, do you know what you're going to get?' "'I don't care about anything.'" "The above questions and answers are nothing more than fragments of our strange conversation, which I have to ask him again and again whether he compromises and signs the papers; and again and again gets the same angry answer. I quickly had a wonderful idea. I added my own words to each question, and at the beginning I asked something inconsequential to see if the two in the room could understand. Later, I found that they did not respond, so I probed more boldly. Our conversation went something like this: "'There's no good in you being so stubborn. Who are you? "'I don't care. I was born in London. "Your fate is up to you. How long have you been here? "Love as you please."

　　Three weeks'" This industry will never belong to you anymore. How they torture you' "It will never fall into the hands of the villains. They don't give me food to eat, "Add fruit to your signature and you'll be free." What kind of mansion is this? "I will never sign. I do not know. "Don't you think about her at all?" What is your name? "I heard her say this herself before I believed it. Claytier. "Add fruit you sign and you can see her." Where are you from? "Then I'll have to not see her. Athens. In five more minutes, Mr. Holmes, I will be able to see the whole thing in front of them. Asking another question may make it possible to find out the matter, but at this time the door suddenly opened and a woman walked in. I couldn't see her face clearly, but I could only think of her long stature, her posture, her jet-black hair, and her fat white pajamas. "'Harold,' said the woman in non-standard English, 'I can't stay any longer.' It's so lonely here, only... Oh my Goodness, isn't this Paul! The last two sentences were spoken in Greek, and at the end of the sentence, the man tore off the rubber paste sealed on his mouth and screamed, 'Sophie! Sophie! 'Throw yourself into the woman's arms. However, they embraced for only a moment before the young man grabbed the woman and pushed her out the door. The older man effortlessly grabbed the emaciated victim and dragged him out of another door. For a moment I was the only one left in the room, and I jerked up and vaguely thought: I could try to find some clues and see where I was. Fortunately, I didn't do it yet, because as soon as I looked up, I saw the older man standing in the doorway, staring at me. "'All right, Mr. Melas,' he said, 'you see we didn't treat you as an outsider before we asked you to participate in a private matter.' We have a Friend who speaks Greek, who began to help us negotiate; but he has gone back to the East in a hurry, or we would not have bothered you.

　　We needed someone to replace him, and we were lucky to hear that your translation was of a high level. I nodded. 'Here are five pounds,' he said, coming up to me, "I hope that's enough to be a thank you." But remember,' he gently patted me on the chest and said with a grin, 'If you tell someone else about this -- watch out. Just speak to a living person - then let God have mercy on your undead! "I cannot describe to you how disgusted and horrified this man with a delicate face was. Now that the light was shining on him, I could see him more clearly. His face was gaunt and withered, a handful of whiskers were thin and thin, and he stretched his face forward when he spoke, and his lips and eyes fluttered constantly, like a chorea. I couldn't help but think that his successive grotesque laughs were also a symptom of neuropathy. However, the terrible thing about his face lies in those eyes, iron blue and gray, shining with a cold, vicious, and ferocious light. "'If you preach about it, we'll know,'" he said, "and we have a way of getting the news."' Now there's a carriage waiting for you outside, and my partner will send you on your way. I hurried through the vestibule to the carriage, and glanced again at the trees and the garden, and Monsieur Latimer followed me and sat across from me without a word. We again drove in silence for a long distance, the windows still blocked, and finally, until midnight, the car stopped. "'Please, here, Mr. Melas,' said my fellow carman, 'I'm sorry, it's far from your house, but there's no other way.'" If you try to follow our carriage, it can only be harmful to yourself. He said as he opened the car door, and I had just jumped out of the car when the coachman spurred the horse to gallop away. I looked around in amazement.

　　It turned out that I was in the wilderness, surrounded by dark bushes. In the distance was a row of houses with flashing lights from the windows; on the other side was the red signal of the railway.

　　"The carriage that carried me here is gone. I stood there staring blankly. Trying to find out where I was, I saw someone walking toward me in the dark. It wasn't until he came up to me that I could see that he was a railroad porter.

　　"'Can you tell me what this place is?' I asked.

　　"'This is Wandsworth Wasteland.'" he said.

　　"'Is there a train coming into town here?' "'If you walk a mile or so to Klappen Junction Station,' he said, 'just in time for the unbus to Victoria Station.'" "That's the end of my thrilling experience. Mr. Holmes, apart from what I have just told you, I do not know where I am going, nor of whom I am talking to, nor of anything else. But I knew there was dirty business going on there. If possible, I will help the unfortunate man. Early the next morning, I told McCroft, Mr. Holmes, of the whole situation, and then reported the case to the police. After listening to this bizarre and tortuous story, we sat quietly for a while without a word. Later Sherlock looked at his brother.

　　"Did any measures have been taken?" Sherlock asked.

　　Mycroft picked up a sheet of the Daily News on the table and uploaded:

　　Now there is the Greek gentleman Paul. Brunette, who had been from Athens and did not speak English; another Greek woman named Sophie, both of whom had disappeared, and who were to be given a heavy reward if their whereabouts were informed. X 2473.

　　"Today every newspaper has published this advertisement. But there was no response. McCroft said. "Does the Greek embassy know?" "I asked, and they didn't know anything." "Then send a telegram to the Athenian police headquarters." Mycroft turned to me and said, "Sherlock is the most energetic in our house, so you're going to do everything you can to get this case straight." If there is any good news about The Fruit, please let me know. "Sure," replied my friend, standing up, "I will let you know, and I will inform Monsieur Melas. If I were you, Mr. Melas, I would be very wary in the meantime, for they had seen these advertisements and must have known that you had betrayed them. We walked home together, and Holmes sent a few telegrams at a telegraph office.

　　"Look, Watson," said Holmes, "we have a good night tonight. That's how many of the major cases I've handled have been transferred to me through Mycroft. The question we just heard, although there is only one answer, still has some characteristics. "Do you have any hope of fixing it?" "Ah, since we know so much about the situation, it would be strange if we could not find out the rest of the problems."

　　You yourself must have some ideas that would answer the question of what we have just heard. "Yes, but vaguely." "So, what do you think?" "It seems to me that the Young Englishman named Harold, Latimer, kidnapped the Greek girl." "From where did you kidnap them?" "Maybe from Athens." Sherlock Holmes shook his head and said, "That young man cannot speak even a word of Greek. The woman spoke very good English. Extrapolating that she had been in England for some time, the young man had never been to Greece. "Well, then, let's assume that she came to visit England, and it was the one Harold who persuaded her to flee with herself." "It's quite possible." "Then her brother —because, I think they must be relatives—came from Greece to intervene. He had ventured into the hands of the young man and his old accomplices. The two men caught him, used force against him and forced him to sign documents in order to transfer the girl's property to them. Her brother may have been the trustee of the property. He refused to sign Yu yu to transfer. In order to negotiate with him, the young man and his old accomplices had to find an interpreter, and thus selected Mr. Melas, who may have used another translator before. They did not tell the girl about his brother's arrival, for the girl had learned of his arrival by pure chance. "That's right, Watson," said Holmes aloud, "I do think what you said is not far from the truth. You see, we've got the upper hand, just worried about their sudden use of violence. As long as they give us time to act, we will certainly be able to arrest them. "But how can we find out where the dwelling is?" "Ah, if our speculation is correct, and the girl's present or past name is Sophie, Claytier, then it will not be difficult for us to find her. This was our main hope, for her brother was of course a complete stranger. It was clear that Harold had been in a relationship with the girl for a long time—at least for a few weeks—so her brother heard the news in Greece and rushed here. During this time, if they had lived in that place and had not moved, someone might have answered Tomicroft's advertisement. We talked all the way back to the Baker Street apartment. Holmes put his arms around him first, and he opened the door, startled.

　　I looked over his shoulder and thought it strange that his brother Mycroft was sitting in an armchair smoking. "Come in, Sherlock. "Please come in, sir," Said McCroft, seeing our amazed faces, and said with an amiable smile, "you didn't expect me to have such energy, did you?" Sherlock. But somehow this case attracted me. "How did you get here?" "I drove you by in a two-wheeled carriage." "Is there any new development?" "My ad is echoing." "Ah!" "Yes, you guys just left a few minutes to hear back." "The result?" Mycroft, Holmes took out a piece of paper. "Here," he said, "the letter was written by a middle-aged man with a wide-tipped fountain pen on pale yellow printed paper, and the letter writer was frail.

　　'Sir: After reading your advertisement today, I will look at it as follows. The situation of this woman is well known, and if she comes to the house in vain, she should tell her tragic history in detail. He now resides in Myrtles in Benem.

　　Your faithful J. Davenport'

　　"He sent a letter from Lower Brixton," said Hermes, Mycroft, "sherlock, why don't we go to him now and find out the details?" "My dear Mycroft, saving that brother's life is far more important than knowing what is going on with his sister. I think we should go to Scotland Yard and go directly to Bethurbanum with Sheriff Grayson. We know that the man's life is in danger. "It would be better to take Mr. Melas along the way," I proposed, "and we may need an interpreter." "This is a wonderful remark," said Sherlock Holmes, "and instructed the men to find a carriage on four wheels, and we shall go at once." "As he spoke, he opened the drawer of the table and I saw him stuff his pistol into his pocket though." "Yes," he said, seeing that I was looking at him, "I should say that, from what we have heard, we are dealing with a very dangerous gang. "When we arrived at Mr. Melas's house on Belmaire Street, it was completely dark. A gentleman had just come to his house and invited him away.

　　"Can you tell us where he went?" Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes asked.

　　"I don't know, sir," replied the woman who opened the door for us, "all I know is that he and the gentleman went away in a carriage. "Did the gentleman give his name?" "No, sir." "Is he a big young, handsome black man?" "Ah, no, sir. He was not very tall, wore glasses, and had a thin face, but he had a cheerful temperament, because he had been smiling when he said he was alive. "Come with me!" Sherlock, Holmes shouted suddenly, "It's a matter of crisis," he said as we hurried to Scotland Yard, "and the men have taken Melas away again." They had discovered the night before that Melas had no courage, and the villain had frightened him as soon as he appeared before him. The men were no doubt asking him to be the translator, but when the translation was done, he might be killed for leaking the news. "We hope to get to Beckham as quickly as possible by train, earlier than the carriage. However, after we arrived at Scotland Yard, it took us more than an hour to find Sheriff Grayson and complete the legal formalities for allowing access to the private house. We arrived at London Bridge at 9:30, and at half past ten the four of us arrived at Beckham train station and drove another half-mile to Myrtletz, a large, gloomy mansion backed by the road. We sent the carriage away and walked along the driveway together.

　　"The windows are all black," said the sheriff, "and the house seems uninhabited." "Our birds have flown out, and the nests are empty," said Sherlock Holmes.

　　"Why do you say that?" "A four-wheeled carriage full of luggage had just driven away less than an hour ago." The sheriff smiled and said, "I saw the ruts in the doorlights, but where did this luggage come from?" "What you see may be ruts in the same car going in the other direction." But the rut that was going out was very deep - so we can say for sure that the rut was quite heavy. "You look more carefully than I do," said the sheriff, shrugging his shoulders, "it's hard for us to break through the door, but we can try, and if we call the door no one will." The sheriff slammed the door knocker hard and tried desperately to ring the bell, but to no avail. Sherlock. Holmes walked away and returned after a few minutes.

　　"I've opened a window," said Sherlock Holmes.

　　"Fortunately you are in favor of breaking in the door, not against it, Mr. Holmes," said the sheriff, seeing my friend pulling the latch so cleverly, "well, I suppose in this case we can enter uninvited." "We fished through the window and came to a large room, which was evidently where Mr. Melas had been last. The sheriff lights the lantern, and we see with the help of the light the two doors, curtains, lamps, and a pair of Japanese chrome armor that Melas told us. On the table were two glasses, a blank bottle of brandy and some leftovers.

　　"What sound?" Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes asked suddenly.

　　We all stood there silently and listened carefully. From somewhere above our heads came a low groan. Sherlock, Holmes hurried to the door and ran into the vestibule. This desolate voice came from the arms. He ran upstairs, followed by the sheriff and me, and his brother Methurovt, though large, caught up as soon as possible. Come out, sometimes as low as a whisper, sometimes as high as a wail. The door was locked, but the key was left outside. Sherrott, Holmes quickly opened the door and rushed in, but immediately pressed his hand to his throat and withdrew.

　　"Charcoal is burning inside," Sherlock said. Holmes shouted, "Wait a minute, and the poison gas will dissipate." "We looked inside, only to see a small copper in the middle of the room emitting a dark blue flame, which projected a circle of blue-gray light on the floor, and we saw in the shadows two blurry people curled up against the wall, and as soon as the door opened, a terrible poisonous gas came out, making us breathless and coughing. Sherlock, Holmes ran to the roof to take a breath of fresh air, then, rushing indoors, opening the window, and throwing the copper din into the garden.

　　"Wait a minute, we can go in," Sherlock Holmes ran out again, breathlessly, "where is the candle?" I don't think I can paddle a match in such air. McCroft, now you're standing in the doorway with the lights, and we're going to get them out!" "We rushed to the two poisoned men and dragged them to the brightly lit vestibule. They have all lost consciousness, blue lips and swollen faces. Hyperemia, bulging eyes. Their appearance had indeed become so powerful that if it were not for the black beard and the fat figure, it would be difficult for us to recognize that one of them was the Greek translator, the one who had only broken up with us at the Eugenie Club a few hours earlier. His hands and feet were tied strongly, and one of his eyes had been severely beaten.

　　The other man, who was tied up with his hands and feet, was tall, had withered beyond recognition, and had some plaster on his face. By the time we put him down, he had stopped moaning, and I could see at a glance that for him we had saved him too late. However, Mr. Melas was still alive, and we used Armonia and brandy, and within an hour I was satisfied to see him open his eyes, knowing that I had saved him from the abyss of death.

　　Melas can only give us a brief overview of the process, which confirms that our inference is correct. The man who went to find him, when he entered the house, "drew a talisman from his sleeve and threatened with immediate execution, and Melas had to be kidnapped again." Indeed, the power of the sneering thug in this poor man who knew a few Chinese was almost irresistible, for the interpreter was so frightened that his hands trembled and he could not utter a word. He was soon kidnapped to Becknham to act as an interpreter in a second meeting, which was even more dramatic than the first, when the two British threatened the prisoner and killed him immediately if he did not do as they were told. Later, seeing that he was always mighty, they had to push him back into captivity. Then they lashed out at Melas, scolding him for betraying them in a newspaper advertisement, and they knocked him unconscious with a stick, and Melas remained unconscious until he found us leaning over to save him.

　　This is the strange case of the Greek translator, and there are still some unsolved mysteries. We can only find out from the gentleman who replied to our advertisement that the young woman came from a rich Greek family and came to England to visit friends. In England, she meets a young man named Harold, Gitimer, who takes control of her and finally convinces her to flee with him. Her friend was shocked to learn of this and hurriedly informed her brother, who lived in Athens, in order to clear the way. Her brother came to England and fell presumptuously into the hands of Latimer and his accomplice named Wilson, Kemp. Kemp is a notorious guy. When the two men discovered that he was illiterate and unaccompanied, they imprisoned him and forced him to sign with beatings and starvation in order to seize his and his sister's property. They kept him in the house, and the girl did not know it, so that the girl could not recognize his brother even when she saw him, so that she put a lot of plaster on his face. However, due to the sensitivity of women, when the interpreter came to visit, she saw her brother for the first time and saw the disguise at a glance. But the poor girl herself was a prisoner, for in this house there was no one but the coachman and his wife. The coachman and his wife were the pawns of both conspirators. The two villains, seeing that the secret had been uncovered and the prisoners were unyielding, fled the house with the girl. It turned out that this fully furnished house was rented by them for money. They first have to take revenge on the man who openly rebelled against them and the man who betrayed them.

　　A few months later, we received an anecdote cut from the Budapest newspaper about two Britons traveling with a woman, who were suddenly killed and both men stabbed to death. The Hungarian police believe that they were jealous of the wind and killed each other. However, it seems, Sherlock. Holmes disagreed, believing to this day that if the Greek girl could be found, it would be clear how she had avenged herself and her brother.

　　Silver horse

　　One morning, we had breakfast together, and Holmes said:

　　"Watson, I'm afraid I'll have to go once."

　　"Go once?! Where? ”

　　"Arrive at Temur and go to Kingspiran."

　　I was not surprised to hear it. Honestly, I would have found it strange that there was a bizarre case being talked about all over England, but Holmes didn't ask about it. He frowned all day, bowed his head in thought, walked around the house, loaded bucket after bucket of fierce tobacco leaves, inhaled endlessly, and completely ignored my questions and arguments. The newspaper seller brought us all kinds of newspapers for the day, and he only glanced at them and threw them aside. However, despite his silence, I knew perfectly well what Holmes was thinking about. At present, there is only one problem in front of people, and it is urgently needed to be solved by Holmes's analytical and corollary intelligence, that is, the strange disappearance of the famous foal in the Wessex Cup Championship and the tragic death of the trainer. So, suddenly, he claimed that he intended to set out to investigate this dramatic and strange case, which was not surprising to me, and it was exactly what I was thinking.

　　"If I don't get in your way, I'd love to go with you."

　　"Dear Watson, I am very glad that you can go with me. I don't think you'll waste your time here, because there are some characteristics of this case, and it seems that it may be extremely unique. I think we'll be in Paddington just in time to catch the train, and on the way I'll talk in detail about the case. You'd better bring your binoculars with you. ”

　　An hour later, we were sitting in the first-class carriage bound for Exeter, a travel hat with ear guards obscuring Holmes's sculpted face, and he was hurrying through a pile of papers of the day he had bought at Paddington Station. We were long past Reading Station, and he tucked the last newspaper he read under his seat and pulled out a cigarette case to make me smoke.

　　"We are moving very fast," said Holmes, looking out the window and at his watch, "and now we are traveling fifty-three and a half miles per hour. ”

　　"I didn't pay attention to the poles that counted a quarter of a mile," I said.

　　"I didn't pay attention either. However, the spacing of the poles near this railway line is sixty yards, so it is very simple to calculate. I think you already know about the murder of John Stryker and the disappearance of the Silver White-Fronted Horse. ”

　　"I've seen telecommunications and news reports."

　　"In this case, the art of thinking and reasoning should be used to carefully ascertain the details of the facts, not to find new evidence. This tragedy is extraordinary, so incomprehensible, and so much at stake that it makes us speculate, speculate and speculate. The difficulty is to distinguish between hard facts, indisputable facts, and the fictional whitewashes of theorists and journalists. Our responsibility is to draw conclusions on sound grounds and to determine which issues are major in the current case. On Tuesday night, I received telegrams from the owner of the horse, Colonel Ross, and Sheriff Gregory, who asked me to cooperate with him in solving the case. ”

　　"Tuesday night!" I exclaimed, "It's Already Thursday morning. Why didn't you move yesterday? ”

　　"My dear Watson, it is my fault that I am afraid that I will make many mistakes, and not as those who know me only through your memoirs imagine. The truth is, I don't believe this British colt would have been hidden for so long, especially in a sparsely populated place like north of Dartmoor. Yesterday I was counting on the news of the finding of the horse, and the man who turned the horse was John Stryker's killer. To this day, I find that nothing has progressed except to capture the young fitzroy Simpson. I felt it was time for me to act. However, I don't think yesterday's time was wasted. ”

　　"Well, you've made an analytical judgment."

　　"At least I have some idea of the main facts of this case. Now I can list them all for you. I think the best way to get to the bottom of a case is to be able to make it clear to another person. Also, if I don't tell you what we have right now, it's hard for me to expect your help. ”

　　I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of my cigar, and Holmes leaned forward and pointed his long thin index finger on the palm of his left hand, explaining to me the outline of the events that had given rise to our trip.

　　"The silver white-fronted horse," said Holmes, "is a Sommerian species, and like its well-known ancestors, it has always maintained an excellent record." It was already five years old, and every time at the racetrack it won the jackpot for its lucky owner, Colonel Rose. Before this unfortunate event, it was the winner of the Wessex Cup championship and the bets on him were three to one. However, it is the favorite foal of horse racing enthusiasts, and (1) and has never failed its lovers, so even such a huge disparity in bets, (1) a 3-to-1 bet means that when a game or bet is made, only one share is taken from the other party when the game is played or bet, and three copies are given to the other party when losing. - Translator's Note Also huge sums of money are staked on it. So trying to prevent the silver-white-fronted horse from racing next Tuesday is clearly at stake for many people.

　　"Of course, in Kingspilan, where the Colonel's stables are trained, this fact is known, so various precautions were taken against this famous foal to protect it. Horse trainer John Straker was originally Colonel Ross's jockey, but was later replaced by another person due to weight gain. Stryker worked as a jockey and a horse trainer for five years at the Colonel's house, and was usually a warm-hearted and honest servant. Stryker had three ponies under his command. The stables are not large, with only four horses in total. One pony boy lived in the stable every night, and the other two slept in the hay shed. All three lads were of good character. John Stryker was married and lived in a cottage two hundred yards from the stables. He had no children, had a maid, and lived comfortably. The place was desolate, and half a mile to the north, there were several villas, built by contractors in the town of Tavistock, for the convalescence of the sick and others who wished to breathe in the fresh air of Dartmoor. Two miles to the west is the town of Tavistock, and through the wilderness, about two miles away, there is a Mapleton stable, which belongs to Lord Buckwater, and the administrator is named Silas Brown. The rest of the wilderness was desolate, with only a few wandering gypsies scattered. This was the basic situation on Monday night, when this misfortune occurred.

　　"That night, as usual, the horses were tamed, brushed, and the stables were locked at nine o'clock. The two ponies went to Stryker's house and had dinner in the kitchen. The third pony, Ned Hunter, remained guarded. A few minutes after nine o'clock, the maid Edith Baxter brought Ned's dinner to the stables, a plate of lamb curry. She did not bring drinks, because there was running water in the stables, and according to the rules, the people who watched the stables could not drink other drinks while on duty. Because it was dark, the path again crossed the wilderness, so the maid carried a lantern.

　　Edith Baxter walked to less than thirty yards from the stables when a man came out of the shadows and told her to stand. In the yellow light of the lantern, she saw the man dressed like a high-society man, dressed in a gray tweed dress, a tweed hat on his head, a pair of high boots with leggings, and a heavy round-headed cane in his hand. What impressed her most, however, was that his face was too pale and his expression was nervous. She thought that this person was probably over thirty years old.

　　"'Can you tell me what this place is?' He asked, 'If I hadn't seen your lights, I would have loved spending the night in the wilderness.' '

　　"'You've walked to the Kingspiran stables.'" The maid said.

　　"Ah, really! What a stroke of luck! He cried, 'I know that every night a little pony sleeps here alone.' Maybe that's the dinner you brought him. I'm sure you won't be so proud that you don't even bother to make money for a new dress, right? The man took a folded piece of white paper from his vest pocket, "Be sure to give this to that child tonight, and you will get the money for the most beautiful coat you can buy." '

　　This serious look of his frightened Edith, who hurried past him and ran under the window, because she was accustomed to passing her food through the window. The window had been opened and Hunter was sitting at the small table. Edith had just begun to tell him what had happened when the stranger came up again.

　　"'Good night,' said the stranger, looking in from the window, 'I have something to say to you,' and the girl swore that as he spoke she found him holding a small piece of paper in his hand, revealing a corner.

　　"'What's the matter with you here?' Pony asked.

　　"'This thing can make you have something in your pocket,' said the stranger, 'and you have two horses on horseback for the Wessex Cup Tournament, one silver and white-fronted and one Berd.' You give me reliable information, and you won't lose. Is it true that you heard that in the Five Furlong Distance Races, Beald could surpass the Silver White Front horse by a hundred (1) yards, and you both bet on Berd yourself? '

　　"'Say so, 'You're a goddamn horse racing spy!' The little pony shouted, 'Now I want you to know how we deal with these guys in Kingspilane.' He ran over and released the dog. The girl hurried home, but as she ran and looked back, she saw the stranger leaning over the window to look. However, after a minute, hunter ran out with the hound, the man had already walked away, and although Hunter and the dog circled around the stables, there was no sign of the man. ”

　　"Wait a minute," I asked, "didn't the pony lock the door when he ran out with the dog?" ”

　　"Great, Watson, great!" My partner whispered, "I think this is very important, so yesterday I sent a telegram to Dartmore to inquire about it." The pony locked the door before leaving. I could add that this window is too small to get in.

　　When Hunter waited for the two accomplices to return, he sent someone to report to the trainer and tell him what had happened. When Stryker heard the report, he didn't know what the real intention was, but he was very alarmed. The incident disturbed him, so Mrs. Stryker woke up at one o'clock in the middle of the night to find him dressed. Stryker replied to his wife's inquiry that he had been unable to sleep because he was concerned about these horses, and that he intended to go to the stables to see that they were (1) Furlong: an English unit of length, equal to one-eighth of a mile. - Translator's note that everything is normal. Stryker's wife heard the rain ticking against the window and begged him to stay at home, but he ignored his wife's request and put on his raincoat and left the house.

　　Mrs. Stryker awoke at seven o'clock in the morning, realizing that her husband had not returned, hurriedly dressed, woke the maid up, and went with her to the stables. Only to see the stable door open, Hunter sitting in a chair, his body shrunk into a ball, completely unconscious, the famous colt in the stable was missing, and the horse trainer was nowhere to be seen.

　　They quickly woke up the two little ponies sleeping in the hay shed, because the two of them slept so dead that they didn't hear anything at night. Hunter was obviously under the influence of a strong anesthetic, so he could not wake him up, and the two little ponies and the two women had to let Hunter sleep there, and they all ran out to find the missing horse trainer and famous foal. They had thought that the horse trainer had for some reason taken the horse out for early training, but they climbed the hill near the house and looked into the surrounding wilderness, and did not see a trace of the missing colt, but found something that gave them a premonition that an unfortunate event had occurred.

　　A quarter of a mile from the stables, Stryker's coat was exposed among the plantagenet bushes. There was a depression in the nearby wilderness, where they found the body of the unfortunate horse trainer. His head had been smashed to pieces, and it was clear that he had been hit by some heavy weapon. He was also wounded on the buttocks, and there was a long, neat wound, apparently cut by a very sharp weapon. Stryker held a knife in his right hand, the blood clot all the way to the handle of the knife, and it was obvious that he had fought his opponent who had attacked him, and his left hand was clutching a black and red silk tie, which the maid recognized, the stranger who had come to the stables the night before. When Hunter regained consciousness, he also proved that the tie belonged to the man. He was sure that it was the stranger who had placed anesthetics in the curry lamb while standing at the window, thus depriving the stable of its caretaker. As for the lost colt, there is sufficient proof on the muddy ground at the bottom of the unfortunate valley to show that the foal was also present during the fight. But it disappeared that morning, and despite the heavy reward and the attention of all the Gypsies in Dartmoor, there was no news at all. Finally, it was verified that the pony had eaten the rest of the dinner with a lot of anesthetics, and that the people in the Stryk family had eaten the same dish that night without any adverse consequences.

　　"That's the basic fact of the whole case. When I spoke, I threw away all speculations and tried to add as little embellishment as possible. Let me now tell you about the measures taken by the police station to deal with this matter.

　　"Sheriff Gregory, who was tasked with investigating the case, was a very capable officer. If there had been a little imagination in his endowment, he would have been promoted in that profession. When he arrived at the scene of the accident, he immediately found the suspect and arrested him. It wasn't hard to find the man because he lived in those little cottages I just mentioned. His name, it seems, is Fitzroy Simpson. He was a man of noble birth and a very well-educated man who had squandered a lot of money on the racecourse and now made ends meet as a horse pre-seller at a London sports club. Checking his bet logbook, he found that he had bet a total of five thousand pounds on the silver white-fronted horse. After his arrest, Simpson offered to explain that he had arrived in Temur to hear about the Kingspiran foal and to learn about the second colt, Desbale. Desbaler was cared for by Cyrus Brown of the Mapleton stables. He did not deny the events of that night, but explained that he was not malicious, but only wanted first-hand information. After showing him the tie, his face immediately turned pale and abnormal, and there was no explanation of how his tie had fallen into the hands of the victim. His clothes were very wet, indicating that he had gone out in the rain that night, and that his betel e-wood cane had a lead head on the tip of it, and if it had been repeatedly struck, it would have been a perfect weapon to bring the horse trainer to such a terrible wound to death. Simpson, on the other hand, had no wounds on his body, and the blood on Stryker's knife showed that at least one of his killers had knife wounds on his body, which was generally the case. Watson, if you can give me some inspiration, then I am very grateful to you. ”

　　Holmes, with his unique ability, spoke the situation very clearly, and I could hear god. Even though I already know most of the cases, I don't see how these things relate to each other or what they mean.

　　"Could it be that during a fight, Stryker suffered a brain injury and then cut himself?" I offered my observations.

　　"It is very likely, nine times out of ten," said Holmes, "that a single piece of evidence in favour of the defendant does not exist." ”

　　"Also," I said, "I don't yet know what the police's opinion is. ”

　　"I fear that our reasoning is the opposite of their opinion," my friend pulled back to the subject, "and as far as I know, the police believe that Fitzroy Simpson, after anesthetizing the man guarding the stable, opened the stable door with the key he had managed to copy in advance and pulled out the silver white-fronted horse." Apparently, he had intended to steal the horse. The horse's head was gone, so Simpson must have put the tie on the horse's mouth, and then, letting the door so wide open, led the horse into the wilderness, and ran into the trainer halfway through, or was chased by the trainer, so naturally there was a quarrel, and although Stryker had defended himself with the knife, Simpson was not hurt in the slightest, and Simpson broke the trainer's head with his heavy cane. Then the thief hid the horse in a hidden place, or while they were fighting, the horse escaped and was now wandering in the wilderness. That's how the police think about the case. Although this claim is not very reliable, all other explanations are even more unlikely. In any case, as soon as I get to the scene, I will quickly find out the situation, and until then, I really can't see how we can take a step forward from the current situation. ”

　　When we arrived in the small town of Tavistock, it was already late afternoon. The town of Tavistock, like a relief on a shield, sits in the heart of the vast wilderness of Dartmoor, and there are already two gentlemen waiting for us at the station, a tall, handsome man with curly hair and beard, and a pair of pale blue eyes shining. The other man was short, alert, very clean, dressed in a dress coat, with a pair of high boots with leggings on his feet, a neatly trimmed beard, and a single glasses, and this man was Colonel Ross, a famous sports enthusiast. The former was Sheriff Gregory, who was already well known in the British detective world.

　　"I am so glad that you have come, Mr. Holmes," said the Colonel, "that the Sheriff has done everything in his power to investigate for us, and I will do everything in my power to avenge poor Stryker and to find my colt again." ”

　　"Is there any new development?" Holmes asked.

　　"I'm sorry, we've had very little to gain," said the sheriff, "and there's an open-top carriage outside, and you'd be willing to go and see the scene before dark, and we can talk on the road." ”

　　A minute later, we were already in a comfortable four-wheeled carriage and briskly through this quaint city of Devon. Sheriff Gregory was full of situations and talked endlessly. Holmes asked occasionally, or interjected a sentence or two. I listened with interest to the conversation between the two detectives, and Colonel Ross leaned back with his arms folded, his hat pulled down to his eyes. Gregory spoke his opinion systematically, almost exactly as Sherlock Holmes had prophecy on the train.

　　"The French Open has held Fitzroy Simpson tightly," Gregory said, "and I personally believe he is the murderer, and I recognize that the evidence is not conclusive and that new developments are likely to be overturned." ”

　　"So what happened to Stryker's knife wound?"

　　"We came to the conclusion that we scratched ourselves as he fell."

　　"On our way here, my friend Dr. Watson speculated the same way. In this case, the situation is not in Simpson's favor. ”

　　"There's no doubt about that. Simpson had neither a knife nor a wound. However, the evidence against him is very conclusive. He was very attentive to the missing pony, and suspected of poisoning the pony, and he was still out in the rain that night, and had a heavy hand fight, and his tie was also in the hands of the victim. I think we can all file a lawsuit. ”

　　Holmes shook his head.

　　"A wise lawyer could have refuted it," said Holmes, "and why did he steal the horse from the stable?" If he wanted to kill it, why not do it inside the stables? Did you find a copy of the key on him? Which drug dealer sold him the potent anesthetic? First of all, where can he hide his horse as a foreigner? And still such a famous horse? He asked the maid to hand over the piece of paper to the young man who was watching the stable, and how did he explain it himself? ”

　　He said it was a ten-pound bill. He did have a ten-pound note in his wallet. But the other difficult problems you ask are not as difficult to solve as you think. He was no stranger in the area. He comes to the town of Tavistock twice a summer. The anesthetic may have been brought from London. This key, which has reached its purpose of use, may have been thrown away long ago. The colt may be in a pit in the wilderness or in an abandoned mine. ”

　　"As for the tie, what did he say?"

　　He admitted it was his tie, but claimed it had been lost. However, there is a new situation that proves that he pulled the horse out of the stable. ”

　　Holmes listened sideways.

　　"We found many footprints indicating that a group of gypsies had come within a mile of the murder site on Monday night. They left on Tuesday. Now, let's assume that there is some agreement between Simpson and the Gypsies that when Simpson is chased, can't he hand over the horse to the Gypsies? Isn't that foal still in the hands of the Gypsies? ”

　　"Of course it's possible."

　　"These gypsies are being searched for in the wasteland. I also inspected every stable and house within ten miles of the town of Tavistock. ”

　　"I heard that there is not a stable nearby?"

　　"Yes, of course we can't ignore that. Because their Madsbaal is the second colt in the bet, the disappearance of the famous foal silver white-fronted horse is very favorable to them. Legend has it that the horse trainer Cyras Brown made a big bet on this event, and besides, he was not friendly to poor Stryker. However, we have examined the stables and found nothing about him and the matter. ”

　　"Does Simpson have nothing to do with the interests of the Mapleton stables?"

　　"It doesn't matter at all."

　　Holmes leaned back against the saddleback, and the conversation was interrupted. A few minutes later, our carriage was parked in front of a neat red-brick cottage with long eaves, not far from the road, through the horse training farm, a long gray-tiled house. Outside is a gentle undulating wasteland, covered with bronzed withered anchovies that stretch all the way to the sky, with only some of the minarets of the town of Tavistock occasionally obscuring the wasteland. Further west, there is a group of houses that obscure the wasteland, and that is some of the stables of Maplestone. Except for Holmes, we all jumped out of the car. Holmes was still leaning back on the back of the car seat, his eyes looking at the sky, contemplating in amazement. I touched his arm before he jumped out of the car.

　　"I'm sorry," Holmes turned to Colonel Rose, who looked at him in amazement, and Holmes said, "I'm fantasizing. His eyes glowed strangely, trying to suppress the excitement, and I knew from my previous experience that he already had a clue, but I couldn't think of where he had found it.

　　"Maybe you'd like to go to the crime scene right away?" "Mr. Holmes," Gregory said.

　　"I think I'll stop here for a moment and look up a detail or two." I see, Stryker's body has been carried back here, right? ”

　　"Yes, right upstairs. An autopsy will be held tomorrow. ”

　　"He's been with you for years, right?" Colonel Ross. ”

　　"Yes, I always thought he was a wonderful servant."

　　"Sheriff, I suppose you've checked the contents of the dead man's pocket and made a juxtaposed list, right?"

　　"I'll put everything in the living room, and if you want to see it, go see it."

　　"That's great."

　　We all went into the vestibule and sat down around a table in the middle, and the sheriff opened a square tin box and put something in front of us. There was a box of matches, a two-inch candle, an ADP pipe made of Oushi Nangan, a seal skin cigarette bag containing half an ounce of long cut board tobacco, a silver pocket watch with a gold bracelet, five one-pound gold coins, an aluminum pencil case, a few pieces of paper, an ivory handle knife with a very delicate and hard blade, engraved with the words Wes, London.

　　"This knife is very peculiar," said Holmes, picking it up and looking at it for a moment, "I suppose there is blood on the knife, and this is the knife that the deceased was holding, right?" Watson, you must be familiar with such a knife. ”

　　"That's what our doctors call an eye-blade," I said.

　　"I think so too. The blade is very delicate and is used for very delicate surgery. It is strange for a man to go out in a rainstorm with such a knife and not put it in his pocket. ”

　　"We found the cork sheath of the knife next to his body," said the sheriff, "and his wife told us that the knife was originally on the dresser, and he took it with him when he walked out of the house, and it was not a successful weapon, but perhaps at this moment it was the best weapon he could get." ”

　　"Very likely. What's going on with the paper? ”

　　"Three are receipts from the farmer. One was a letter of instruction from Colonel Ross to him. The other was thirty-seven pounds and fifteen shilling invoices from women's cloth merchants, and the servant was Mrs. Les Suriel on Bond Street. The invoice was issued to Mr. William Debyhill. Mrs. Streek told us that Mr. Derby Hill was a friend of her husband's, and that correspondence was sometimes sent to her. ”

　　"Mrs. Derby Hill is very generous," said Holmes, looking at the invoice, "twenty-two kinis are not cheap in a single dress." There's not much to see here, though, and we can now go to the crime scene. ”

　　We walked out of the living room, where a woman was waiting in the aisle, and she stepped forward and pulled the sheriff's sleeve with her hand. The woman's face was gaunt and thin, showing that she had been quite frightened in recent days.

　　"Did you catch them?" Have you found them? She said breathlessly.

　　"No, Mrs. Stryker. But Mr. Holmes has come here from London to help us, and we will do our best to solve the case. ”

　　"I must have seen you in a park in Plymouth not long ago, Mrs. Stryker," said Holmes.

　　"No, sir, you're mistaken."

　　"Oops! I can swear. You were wearing a pale gray coat with rudder bird feathers. ”

　　"I've never had a dress like this, sir," replied the woman.

　　"Ah, that's perfectly clear," said Holmes, apologizing, and walking out with the sheriff. Not far away, we crossed the wasteland to the spot where the dead bodies were found, and the pit was lined with plantagenet bushes that once hung coats.

　　"I heard that there was no wind that night," said Holmes.

　　"No, but it's raining heavily."

　　"Since this is the case, the coat was not blown by the wind on the plantagenet bush, but someone put it here."

　　"Yes, someone hung it on a plantagenet bush."

　　"It's worth noting. I find that there are many footprints here. Needless to say, many people have been here since Monday night. ”

　　"There used to be a straw mat next to the corpse, and we all stood on it."

　　"It's great."

　　"This bag contains a pair of boots that Stryk wore, a leather shoe from Fitzroy Simpson, and a piece of shoe from a silver white-fronted horse."

　　"My dear sheriff, you are so clever!" Holmes took the cloth bag, walked to the low-lying place, pulled the grass mat to the middle, and then stretched his neck to lie on the seat, holding his chin with both hands, and carefully examined the trampled dirt in front of him. "Ha! What is it? Holmes shouted suddenly. It was a half-burned wax match, and this wax match was wrapped in mud, and when it looked like a small wooden stick.

　　"Can't imagine how I could have ignored it." The sheriff said with a look of chagrin.

　　"It's buried in the dirt and it's not easy to spot, so I can see it because I'm looking for it on purpose."

　　"How! Did you expect to find this? ”

　　"I don't think it's impossible."

　　Holmes took out his boots from the bag and compared them with the footprints on the ground, then climbed to the edge of the pit and slowly crawled between the porch and the plantagenet bushes.

　　"I'm afraid there won't be any more traces here," said the sheriff, "and I've carefully examined it within a hundred yards of the surroundings." ”

　　"Indeed!" Holmes stood up and said, "Since you said so, I don't have to do anything more. But I would rather take a walk in the wasteland before dark, and tomorrow I will be more familiar with the terrain here, and I think that in order to please me, I have packed this horseshoe in my pocket. ”

　　Colonel Ross, very impatient with my partner's unhurried and methodical approach to his work, looked at his watch.

　　"I hope you'll go back with me, Sheriff," said Colonel Ross, "and there are a few things I would like to hear from you, in particular, whether we should declare to the public whether or not we should remove our riding name from the list of horse racers." ”

　　"Of course not," said Holmes in a decisive voice, "I will certainly be able to get it to play." ”

　　The Colonel nodded.

　　"I am glad to hear your opinion, sir," said Colonel Ross, "and after a walk in the wilderness, come to poor Stryker's house to find us, and then we shall ride together to the town of Tavistock." ”

　　Colonel Ross and the Sheriff had returned, and Holmes and the two of us walked slowly around the moorland. The setting sun faded behind the Mapleton stables, and the vast plains before us were bathed in golden light, and the sunset sprinkled on the porculin and blackberries. However, in the face of this gorgeous scenery, Holmes had no intention of appreciating it, and was completely immersed in deep thought.

　　"Well, then," he said at last, "we shall put aside for the moment the question of who killed John Stryker, and for the time being limit it to the search for the whereabouts of the horse." Now, suppose that at the time of the tragedy or after the tragedy, this horse escapes, where can it run? Horses are gregarious. By its very nature, it either returned to the Kingspilan stables or went to the Mapleton stables. How could it run wild in the wilderness? If so, it will certainly be seen. Why did the gypsies abduct it? These people often hide far away when they hear about the chaos, lest they be pestered by the police. They wouldn't think they could sell such a famous foal. If they take it, they will take a lot of risks and get nothing, which is very clear. ”

　　"So, where is the horse?"

　　"I've already said it's either going to Kingspilane or it's going to Mapleton. Not in Kingspilan now, it must be in Mapleton. Let's do it according to this hypothesis and see what the result is. The sheriff had said that the soil of the wasteland was very hard and dry, but the terrain towards Mapleton was getting lower and lower, and from here you could see that there was a long low-lying area, which must have been very wet on Monday night. If our hypothesis is correct, then the foal must have passed there, where we can find its hoof prints. ”

　　We talked and walked, excited, and after a few minutes we were in what we called a depression. I went to the right, as Sherlock Holmes had asked, and Holmes to the left, but I was less than fifty paces away when I heard him call me and saw him waving at me. It turned out that there were some clear horseshoe prints on the soft ground in front of him, and Holmes took the horseshoe from the bag and compared it with the hoof prints on the ground, and it was completely consistent.

　　"You see how important it is to imagine," said Holmes, "gregory lacks that quality." We envision what might have happened and did it as envisaged, and it turned out to be justified. So let's move on. ”

　　We walked through the wet, low-lying terrain, through a quarter-mile of dry grass, and the terrain began to slope downwards, rediscovering the horseshoe prints, which later interrupted for another half a mile, but near Mapleton, the horseshoe prints were found again. Holmes spotted it first, and he stood there with his fingers, a look of triumphant joy on his face. Next to the horseshoe prints, it is also obvious that there is also a man's footprint.

　　"To start this horseback ride is to go alone." I said out loud.

　　"Exactly. Start it alone. Hey, what's going on? ”

　　It turned out that these two footprints suddenly turned in the direction of Kingspilan. Holmes whistled, and the two of us followed along. Holmes's eyes were fixed on the footprints, but I glanced to the side by chance, and to my surprise, I saw the same footprints turn back to the original direction.

　　"Watson, you are so good," he said as I pointed to Holmes, "you have made us run a lot less, or we will go back." Let's go in the folded footsteps now. ”

　　We didn't go far, and the footprints were interrupted on the asphalt road leading to the gate of the Mapleton Stables. As soon as we approached the stables, a groom ran out of it.

　　"We're not allowed to stay here," the man said.

　　"I just want to ask one question," said Holmes, putting his thumb and forefinger in the pocket of his vest, "if I came to visit your master, Monsieur Silas Brown, at five o'clock tomorrow morning, would it be too early?" ”

　　"God bless you, sir, if anyone comes then, he will receive him, for he is always the first to get up. But here he comes, sir, ask him yourself. No, sir, no, if he sees me taking your money, he will drive me away, and if you want to give it, please wait a while. ”

　　Holmes had just about to take a half-crown gold coin out of his pocket when he heard (1) this and put it back in place, when an old man with a hideous face strode out of the door, wielding a hunting whip in his hand.

　　"What is this for, Dawson?!" He shouted, "No small talk! Go do your thing! And you guys, what are you here for? ”

　　"We're going to talk to you for ten minutes, my good sir," said Holmes with a cheerful face.

　　"I don't have time to talk to every idle person, and we are not allowed to have (1) half a crunch here: two shillings and sixpence. ------------------ Go away, or I'll let the dog bite you." ”

　　Holmes leaned forward and whispered a few words in his ear. He jumped up violently, his face red.

　　"Lie!" He shouted, "Shameless lie! ”

　　"It was good. Are we here to argue in public, or are we going to talk in your living room? ”

　　"Ah, if you want, please."

　　Holmes smiled slightly.

　　"I'm not going to make you wait long. "Watson," said Holmes, "now, Mr. Brown, I am at your command. ”

　　Twenty minutes later, when Holmes and he came back out, the red light in the sky had completely darkened. I've never seen anyone change as much in a flash as Cyrus Brown. His face was pale, his forehead was covered with beads of sweat, his hands trembled, and the hunting whip in his hand swung like a thin branch in the wind. His domineering look was also swept away, and he cowered and followed my partner like a dog following its owner.

　　"Be sure to do as you instruct." It must be done exactly. He said.

　　"Nothing can go wrong," said Holmes, looking back at him. He trembled, as if he saw a terrible power in Holmes's gaze.

　　"Ah, yes, there must be no mistake. Guaranteed appearances. Do I want to change it? ”

　　Holmes thought for a moment and suddenly burst out laughing, "No, no. Holmes said, "I will write to you. No tricks, well, otherwise..."

　　"Oh, believe me, believe me!"

　　"Well, I think I can trust you. Well, tomorrow you'll listen to me. Brown hesitantly held out his hand to him, and Holmes ignored it, turned and left, and we walked in the direction of returning to Kingspilane.

　　"I have rarely seen a bastard like Cyras Brown, who is as strong as an ox, as timid as a rat, and as servile as the next." As we dragged our heavy footsteps back, said Holmes.

　　"So the horse is with him?"

　　"He was originally intimidated and wanted to leave things behind. But I said exactly what he had done that morning, so he believed I was watching him. You'll certainly notice that particular square-toe shoe print, Brown's tunic boots are just like it. Also, of course, this kind of thing is not something that people dare to do. According to his habit of always getting up first, I told him how he had discovered that a strange horse was wandering in the wilderness, how he had gone out to meet it, and how he was overjoyed when he saw the white forehead of the horse, which was worthy of the name, because only this horse could defeat the horse he had bet on, and it had unexpectedly fallen into his own hands. Later I recounted how he had begun to think for a moment how he intended to send the horse back to Kingspilan, and then how he had a bad idea of hiding the horse until the end of the race, and how he had led the horse back and hid it in Mapleton. I told him all these details, and he had to concede defeat and just wanted to save his life. ”

　　"But haven't the stables been searched?"

　　"Ah, old horse bastards like him are scheming."

　　"Since he could hurt the famous foal for his own sake, but you still keep the horse in his hands, aren't you worried?"

　　"My dear fellow, he will protect it like an eyeball. For he knew that the only hope of forgiveness was to ensure the safety of the horse. ”

　　"I don't think Colonel Ross is a man who will forgive people anyway."

　　"It doesn't depend on Colonel Ross. I can do it myself, saying more or less about what I have, depending on my choice. This is the advantage of unofficial detectives. Watson, I don't know if you noticed that Colonel Ross was a little arrogant to me. Now I want to make him a little more fun. Don't tell him about horses. ”

　　"I won't say it without your permission."

　　"And this matter is certainly insignificant compared to the question of who killed John Stryker."

　　"Are you going to track down the killer?"

　　"On the contrary, the two of us took the night train back to London today."

　　My friend's words were completely unexpected. We had only been in Devon for a few hours, and we had done such a beautiful job at the beginning of the investigation, and now he was going to give up and go back, which puzzled me. On our way back to the trainer's apartment, no matter how much I asked him, he would never talk about it. The colonel and the sheriff were already waiting for us in the living room.

　　"My friend and I are going to take the night train back to town," said Holmes, "and we have already breathed in the fresh air of your Dartmoor, but it is very pleasant." ”

　　The sheriff was stunned, and the colonel skimmed his lips contemptuously.

　　"So you've lost faith in the murderer of poor Stryk," said the Colonel.

　　Holmes shrugged.

　　"It's very difficult," said Holmes, "but I am fully convinced that your horse can go to Tuesday's race, so please prepare your horse jockey." Can I ask for a photo of John Stryker? ”

　　The sheriff drew a photograph from an envelope and handed it to Holmes.

　　"Dear Gregory, you have prepared everything I need in advance. Please wait a moment here, I want to ask the maid a question. ”

　　"I must confess that I am quite disappointed in our adviser from London," said Colonel Ross as soon as my friend stepped out, "and I do not see any progress since he came here." ”

　　"At least he has assured you that your horse will be able to race," I said.

　　"Yes, he assured me," said the Colonel, shrugging his shoulders, "and I hope he finds my horse and proves that he is not talking nonsense." ”

　　I was about to refute my friend in order to defend him, but Holmes came into the house again.

　　"Gentlemen," said Holmes, "I am now perfectly ready to go to the town of Tavistock. ”

　　As we got into the carriage, a pony opened the door for us. Holmes seemed to suddenly remember something, so he leaned forward and pulled the sleeve of the pony.

　　"There are some sheep in your paddock," asked Holmes, "who will take care of them?" ”

　　"It's me, sir."

　　"Have you noticed anything wrong with them lately?"

　　"Ah, sir, no big deal, but three are lame."

　　I could see that Holmes was extremely satisfied, for he rubbed his hands and grinned softly.

　　"Bold speculation, Watson, is very accurate," said Holmes, squeezing my arm, "Gregory, I urge you to pay attention to this strange disease in the flock. Let's go! Coachman. ”

　　The expression on Colonel Rose's face was the same as before, showing a look of disbelief in my friend's talents, but I could see from the expression on sheriff's face that Holmes's words had taken him very seriously.

　　"Are you sure it's important?" Gregory asked.

　　"Very important."

　　"Do you want me to pay attention to some other issue?"

　　"The dog's reaction that night was strange."

　　"That night, the dog didn't have any unusual reactions."

　　"That's the weird thing." Sherlock Holmes reminded.

　　Four days later, Holmes and I decided to take a ride to Winchester to see the Wessex Cup tournament. Colonel Ross greeted us at the station as promised, and we took his tall carriage to the racecourse outside the city. Colonel Ross had a gloomy face and a very cold attitude.

　　"Until now my horse has not heard anything from me," said the colonel.

　　"I suppose you can always recognize it when you see it?" Holmes asked.

　　The Colonel was extremely annoyed.

　　"I've been at the racecourse for twenty years, and I've never heard of such a question before," he said, "and even a small child recognizes the white forehead of the silver white-fronted horse and its mottled right front leg." ”

　　"How about the stakes?"

　　"That's the secret. Yesterday it was fifteen to one, but the difference is getting smaller and smaller, and now it has fallen to three to one. ”

　　"Ha!" Holmes said, "It is clear that someone has learned something. ”

　　The carriage reached the fence of the stand, and I saw the list of participating horses on the horse racing sign.

　　Wessex Gold Cup

　　Horse racing age: limited to four or five years old. Race: One Mile Five Floron. Fifty pounds per horse. The top prize, in addition to the Gold Cup, won a thousand pounds. The second place won three hundred pounds. The third place won two hundred pounds.

　　I. Mr. Sheehan Newton's Saimanigero. The jockey wears a red hat and a brownish-yellow top.

　　Ii. Colonel Wardlow's Racing Horse Pagilist. The jockey wears a pink hat and a black-and-blue top.

　　III. Lord Buckwater's Symades barre. Jockey wears a yellow hat with yellow sleeves.

　　Colonel Ross's racing horse, the Silver White-Fronted Horse. The jockey wears a black hat and a red top.

　　V. The Horse Racer Iris of the Duke of Balmoral. The jockey wears a yellow hat and a yellow-and-black striped top.

　　VI. Lord Singlevoort's Semaraspol. The jockey wears a purple hat and black sleeves.

　　"We put all our hopes on your words, and withdrew the other horse we had prepared from the race," said the Colonel, "what, what is that?" Famous foal silver white-fronted horse? ”

　　"Silver white-fronted horse, five to four!" The horse racer shouted, "Silver white-fronted horse, five to four!" Desboule, five to fifteen! The rest of the racehorses, five to four! ”

　　"All the racehorses are numbered," I exclaimed, "and six or seven horses are out." ”

　　"Six or seven horses have appeared? "Then my horse has also come out," cried the Colonel with great anxiety, "but I have not seen it, no horse of my color has come." ”

　　"Just ran over five horses, and that one must be yours."

　　As I was speaking, a muscular maroon horse ran out of the pound horse enclosure and slowly passed in front of us, and on the back of the horse sat the Colonel's well-known black-hated red-robed jockey.

　　"That's not my horse," cried the horse's owner, "and there is not a single white hair on this horse." What the hell are you doing, Mr. Holmes? ”

　　"Hey, hey, let's see how it runs," my friend said calmly, watching intently with my binoculars for a few minutes. Great start! He suddenly shouted again, "They're coming, they've turned a corner!" ”

　　We looked over the carriage and the horse race kept coming, and the scene was spectacular. Six or seven horses were originally next to each other, and even a carpet could cover six or seven horses, but halfway through, the yellow-hat jockey of The Mapleton stables ran to the front. However, by the time they ran past us, Desbaaler's strength had been exhausted, and Colonel Ross's famous colt rushed up and crossed the finish line, six horses long before its opponent, and Iris of the Duke of Balmoral was in third place.

　　"So it seems that I am riding a horse," said the Colonel, breathlessly, putting one hand over his eyes, "I admit, I really can't figure it out." Don't you think you've kept your secrets for too long? Mr. Holmes. ”

　　"Of course, Colonel, you will know everything at once. Let's stop by and see this horseback ride. "It's here," continued Holmes, and by this time we had entered the fence of the pound horse, which was only allowed to the owner of the horse and their friends, "and you can see that it is the silver white-fronted horse as soon as you wash the horse's face and legs with alcohol." ”

　　"You really surprised me!"

　　"I found it in the hands of the horse thieves, and I took it upon myself to let it come to Marseille in this way."

　　"My dear sir, you have done what a mystery. This horseback ride looks very robust and good. It has never been as good in its life as it is today. I was very sorry that I had some doubts about your talents. You found me a horse and did a great job for me, and if you could catch John Stryker's killer, you'd do me even more. ”

　　"I did it too." Holmes said unhurriedly.

　　The Colonel and I looked at Holmes in amazement, and the Colonel asked:

　　"You've caught him?" So, where is he? ”

　　"He's right here."

　　"Here! Where is it? ”

　　"Stay with me right now."

　　The colonel's face was flushed with anger.

　　"I fully confess that I have been favoured by you, Mr. Holmes," said the Colonel, "but I think that what you have just said is either a prank or an insult!" ”

　　Holmes laughed.

　　"I assure you that I do not think you have any connection with the criminal, Colonel," said Holmes, "and the real murderer is standing behind you," he said, "and he went over and put his hand on the smooth neck of the good horse.

　　"This rides a horse!" The Colonel and I both shouted at the same time.

　　"Yes, this rides a horse. If I say that it kills people in self-defense, it will alleviate its guilt. And John Stryker is a man who simply doesn't deserve your trust. Now that the bell rings, I want to win a little bit in the next game. Let's find the right time to talk in detail. ”

　　That night we were returning to London in a Pullemun coach, and our friend recounted in detail what had happened in Dartmoor's stables on Monday night, and his solution, which made us so absorbed that Colonel Ross, like myself, thought the journey was too short.

　　"I confess," said Holmes, "that the concept I have formed according to the newspaper reports is completely incorrect. But there are still some signs here that would have been very important if they had not been forced to be obscured by its details. When I went to Devon, I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson was a criminal. Of course, at that time I also saw that there was no conclusive evidence. And as I was riding in a carriage and came to the front of the trainer's room, it occurred to me that curried lamb was of great significance. You should remember that when you all got out of the car, I was out of my mind and still sitting still. I was amazed at my own mind at how I could ignore such an obvious clue. ”

　　"I confess," said the Colonel, "that even now I cannot see how the curried lamb has helped us. ”

　　"It was the first link in my chain of reasoning. Anesthetics made into powder are by no means odorless. Although this smell is not unpleasant, it can be detected. If it is mixed in ordinary dishes, the person who eats it can undoubtedly find it and may not eat it again. And curry is exactly what can mask this smell. It is impossible to imagine that the stranger Fitzroy Simpson would bring curry to the horse trainer's house that night to use. Another particularly grotesque idea is that he came that night with an anesthetic made into powder, and happened to come across a dish that could mask the smell, a coincidence that is certainly incredible. Therefore, The Simpson suspicion is ruled out. So my focus fell on the Strykers. Only these two people can choose the curried lamb for dinner that night. The anesthetic is specially added to the pony after the dish is ready, because others eat the same dish but there is no bad effect. So which of the two of them approached the dish without being discovered by The Lady?

　　"Before solving this problem, I learned the importance of the dog not making a sound, because a reliable inference always inspires other problems. I know from simpson's episode that there was a dog in the stables, but although someone came in and led the horse away, it did not bark, did not alarm the two men who were sleeping in the hay shed to watch the stable. Apparently, this midnight visitor is a character that the dog is very familiar with.

　　"I was convinced, or almost convinced, that John Stryker had come to the stables late at night and had taken the horse away. For what purpose? Obviously, it was ill-intentioned, otherwise, why would he anesthetize his own pony? But I couldn't think of why. There have been cases in which horse trainers, through proxies, bet heavily on the defeat of their horses, and then deliberately prevent their horses from winning in order to deceive. Sometimes, deliberately slowing down in horse racing and losing. Sometimes they use more certain and sinister tricks. What technique is used here? I hope to examine the contents of the deceased's pocket before drawing conclusions.

　　"That is the case, you will never forget the strange knife found in the hands of the deceased, and of course no sane person would use it as a weapon. As Dr. Watson told us, this is the scalpel used in the operating room for the most delicate operations. That night, the knife was also prepared for precision surgery. Colonel Ross, you have a lot of experience with horse racing, and you should always know that a small scar under the skin on the flesh of the horse's hind ankle tendon is absolutely invisible. Horses that have been treated in this way will slowly show some slight lameness, which will be considered overtrained or a little rheumatic pain, but will not be discovered as a dirty conspiracy. ”

　　"Villain! rascal! The Colonel shouted.

　　"We already know what John Stryk was for in leading the horses into the wilderness. And after such a fierce horse is stabbed with a knife, it must scream loudly, and thus wake up the person sleeping in the hay shed. So you definitely need to go out into the wild to do this. ”

　　"I'm so blind!" The Colonel shouted, "No wonder he has to use candles and matches." ”

　　"Yes, after examining his things, I was very fortunate to find not only his method of committing the crime, but even his motive for committing the crime. Colonel, you are an old-fashioned man, and you certainly know that a man does not put someone else's bill in his own pocket. We most people solve our own accounts on our own. So I immediately concluded that Stryk lived a married life and had another home. From that bill, it can be seen that there must be a woman in this case who loves to splurge. Even a man as generous to his servants as you could hardly have imagined that they would be able to buy a woman a dress for twenty kini. I had inquired from Mrs. Stryker about the dress, but she had never heard of it, and this pleased me, indicating that it had nothing to do with her. I jotted down the dealer's address, and instinctively felt that the picture I had brought with Merak would easily solve the problem of the mysterious Mr. Derby Hill.

　　"From that time on, everything was clear. Stryker led the horse into a pit where he lit candles so that they could not be seen. Simpson lost his tie as he fled, and Stryker picked it up, perhaps intending to use it to tie horse legs. When he reached the pit, he went to the back of the horse and lit a candle, but suddenly it lit up, and the horse was frightened, and out of the peculiar instinct of the animal, he felt that someone was going to do harm to it, so he violently lifted the heel, and the iron hoof was kicking at Stryk's forehead, and at this time Stryk had taken off his coat in spite of the rain in order to do his delicate work, so that when he fell, the knife cut through his own thigh. Can I say it clearly? ”

　　"Wonderful!" The Colonel shouted, "Wonderful! You seem to have seen it with your own eyes. ”

　　"I confess that my last bit of speculation is very bold. In my opinion, Stryker is a scheming fellow who would not have easily performed such a delicate operation on the tendon flesh of a horse's ankle without trial. What could he experiment on? When I saw the sheep, I asked a question, and even I was amazed that the answer I got showed that my speculation was correct.

　　"When I returned to London, I visited the clothing merchant, and she recognized Stryker as the generous customer who went by the pseudonym Derby Hill, who had a beautifully dressed wife who was particularly fond of luxurious clothing. I have no doubt that it was this woman who caused Stryker to be in debt and thus to the path of crime. ”

　　"Except for one question. "You've made everything clear," said the Colonel aloud, "where is this horse?" ”

　　"Ah, it escaped, and one of your neighbors took care of it. We must be tolerant on this issue. I thought, if I'm not mistaken, I've arrived at Krapen Station, and in ten minutes we'll be at Victoria Station. If you would like to come to us and smoke, Colonel, I am glad to tell you some other details, which will certainly interest you. ”

　　Clerk of a securities broker

　　Shortly after my marriage, I bought a clinic in paddington district from Mr. Faqual Sr. For a time, Mr. Faqual's medical business was very prosperous, but due to his old age and suffering from a dance disease, his court gradually fell into the cold. Because people naturally abide by a rule, that is, the doctor must first be healthy in order to cure others; if even he cannot cure the disease, then people will naturally look at his medical skills coldly. So the weaker my old man became, the meager his income became, and by the time I bought the clinic, his income had fallen from twelve hundred pounds a year to more than three hundred pounds. However, I prefer to be young, energetic and confident, thinking that in a few years, the clinic will definitely return to its old prosperity.

　　For three months after opening, I was busy with medical care and rarely saw my friend Sherlock Holmes. Because I was so busy that I didn't have time to go to Baker Street, and Holmes himself, seldom walked anywhere other than the needs of detective business. One morning in June, after breakfast, I was sitting down to read the British Medical Journal when I heard a bell and then came the high-pitched, somewhat harsh voice of my old friend, which amazed me.

　　"Oh, my dear Watson," said Holmes, striding into the room, "it is a great pleasure to see you!" I believe that mrs. Zun was shocked by the "four signatures" case and must now be fully recovered. ”

　　"Thank you, we're both fine," I said, shaking his hand very warmly.

　　"I hope," he continued, sitting down in his rocking chair, "that though you care about medical care, don't forget your interest in our little reasoning." ”

　　"On the contrary," I replied, "just last night I went through the original notes and categorized our results of solving the case. ”

　　"I'm sure you don't think that's the end of the data collection."

　　"Not at all. I hope the more experiences I have, the better! ”

　　"For example, how about going today?"

　　"Okay, if you want, go today."

　　"Is it okay to go as far away as Birmingham?"

　　"If you want, of course you can."

　　"What about your medical services?"

　　"My neighbor went out, and I practiced medicine for him. He always wanted to repay me for this affection. ”

　　"Ha! It couldn't be better! Holmes leaned back in his chair, squinting his eyes at me keenly, "I've found that you must be in poor health lately, and that summer colds are always a little annoying. ”

　　"I had a bad cold last week and haven't been out for three days. However, I think I am completely fine now. ”

　　"That's a good point, you look strong."

　　"So, how do you know I've been sick?"

　　"My dear fellow, you know my method."

　　"Well, it's up to your reasoning again."

　　"Not bad at all."

　　"Where to start?"

　　"From your slippers."

　　I looked down at the new pair of patent leather slippers I was wearing on my feet, "What the hell are you..." I began, but Holmes didn't wait for me to finish asking.

　　"Your slippers are new," he said, "and you've been buying them for less than a few weeks." But I saw that the sole of the shoe that rushed to my side was already burned. At first I thought it was boiled when it was dried on the fire after being dipped in water. However, there is a small round paper on the upper of the shoe, on which is written the code name of the clerk. If the shoes had been wet, the code-named piece of paper would have fallen off long ago. So you must have scorched the soles of your shoes by the stove. If a person is disease-free and disaster-free, even in such a wet weather as June, he will not easily go to the fire. ”

　　Like all of Holmes's reasoning, things, once explained, seem very simple in themselves. He saw my thoughts on my face and smiled, but with some sarcasm.

　　"I'm afraid that as soon as I explain it, I will leak the opportunity," he said, "but only talking about the result and not the reason will leave a deeper impression." So, are you ready to go to Birmingham? ”

　　"Of course. What is the case? ”

　　"On the train I'll tell you all this. My client was waiting outside in a four-wheeled carriage. Can you go right now? ”

　　"Wait a minute," I hastily wrote a note to my neighbor, ran upstairs to explain it to my wife, and caught up with Holmes on the stone steps outside the door.

　　"Your neighbor is a doctor," holmes said, nodding to the brass door number on the next door.

　　"Yes, he, like me, bought a clinic."

　　"This clinic has been around for a long time?"

　　"Like mine, as soon as the house was built, two clinics were established."

　　"Ah! Well, your side of the business is better. ”

　　"I think so. But how do you know? ”

　　"From the steps, my friend. Your steps are three inches thinner than hiss. This gentleman in the carriage was my client, Mr. Hall Pacroft. Allow me to introduce it. Hey, coachman, hurry up the horse, we're just in time to catch the train. ”

　　I sat across from Mr. Paicroft, a tall, imposing young man with a frank and sincere expression, a little curly little yellow beard, and a shiny top hat. Wearing a neat and simple black dress, we can see at a glance that he was originally a clever and clever urban youth. They belonged to the category known as the "Londoners", the most prestigious legions of volunteers on the mainland, which (1) were made up of; there were more good sportsmen and athletes of this kind in the British Isles than any other class. His rosy round face naturally carried a pleasant expression, but the corners of his mouth drooped, and I felt that he had a strange sadness. However, it wasn't until we sat in the first-class carriage, on our way to Birmingham, that I didn't know about the trouble he had encountered. It was because of this that he came to sherlock Holmes.

　　"We're going to take the train in seventy minutes," said Holmes, "Mr. Hall Pakecroft, please tell my friend the very interesting experiences which I have talked about, as they are, and ask you to tell them as much detail as possible. Listening to these events again is also useful to me. Watson, this case may or may not be famous. However, at least it shows that you and I both like those who do not (1) London yankees refer to people who live in the East End of London (the civilian area). —Translator's note on the ordinary and absurd features, and now, Mr. Paicroft, I will no longer bother you. ”

　　Our young traveling companion looked at me with twinkle in his eye.

　　"The worst part of this thing," he said, "is that I seem to be completely deceived." Of course, it didn't look like I had been fooled, and I didn't see that I had been deceived. However, if I really threw away this job in exchange for a void, then what a stupid guy I would be. Mr. Watson, I'm not good at storytelling, but here's what happened to me:

　　"I used to work at the Coxon and Woodhouse firm next to Draper Square, but you will no doubt remember that the firm was involved in the Venezuelan public bond case in the early spring of this year. When the comptoir went bankrupt, of course all twenty-seven of our staff were dismissed. I worked there for five years, and the elder Coxon gave me a highly rated accreditation. I ran east and west, but many people were in the same situation as me, so for a long time they hit walls everywhere. When I was at the Coxons firm, I earned three pounds a week, and I saved about seventy pounds, but I lived on this savings and soon ran out. I finally got to the point where I could barely afford to buy the envelopes and stamps for the advertisement. I've looked for companies, shops, and worn out my boots up and down the stairs, but it's still hard to find a job.

　　"I finally heard that there was a vacancy in a large securities firm on Lombard Street, Mawson and Williams. I dare say that you may not be familiar with the situation in the Central Post District in east London, but I can tell you that this is one of the richest trading houses in London. The company stipulated that it could only apply for its job advertisements by letter. I sent my appraisal and application, but I didn't have much hope. Unexpectedly, I received a reply, saying that if I arrived there next Monday and my appearance met the requirements, I could immediately take up a new position. No one knows how the home is chosen. Some say it's the manager who put his hand into a pile of applications and picked it up. Anyway, this time I was lucky, and I've never been so happy. The salary started at one pound a week, and the position was the same as when I was at The Cockson Firm.

　　"Now I'm going to talk about the oddities of this. I live in an apartment at 17 Porter Lane near Hampstead. Oh, and on the night of the appointment notice, I was sitting there smoking when the landlady came in with a business card that read "Cash Manager Arthur Pinner." I had never heard of this man's name, much less what he was looking for me to do. But of course I asked her to bring the man in. The people who came in were of medium stature, with black hair, dark eyes, a black beard, and a slightly shiny nose. He walked briskly and spoke quickly, as if he were a man who cherished time.

　　"I suppose you're Mr. Hall Paycroft, right?" he asked.

　　"Yes, sir," I replied, while pulling over a chair for him.

　　"Did you work at The Coxon and Woodhouse Firm before?"

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"Is it the newly hired clerk of The Mawson Firm?"

　　"Exactly."

　　"Ah," he said, "here's the thing, I've heard that you're very talented in money management, and you've had a lot of extraordinary deeds. You remember Coxon's manager, Parker, who was always full of praise for you. ”

　　"Of course I was happy to hear him say that. I've always been shrewd and capable in business, but I never dreamed that someone in the city would praise me like that.

　　"Does your memory work well?" he said.

　　"Not bad," I replied humbly.

　　"After you lose your job, do you still pay attention to business?" he asked.

　　"Yes. I look at the stock exchange's price list every morning. ”

　　"What a hard work!" He shouted, "This is the way to make money!" You're not against me testing you, are you? What is the quote price of Ayrshire stock? ”

　　"One hundred and six pounds five shillings to one hundred and five pounds seventeen and a half shillings."

　　"What about New Zealand's unified public debt?"

　　"One hundred and four pounds."

　　"What about Brocken Healne in the UK?"

　　"Seven pounds to seven pounds six shillings."

　　"Great!" He raised his hands and shouted, "This is exactly what I know about the market." My friend, my friend, you went to Mawson To be a clerk too condescending! ”

　　"If you think about it, how much he was amazed by his ecstasy." "Ah," I said, "no one else thinks of me as much as you do, Mr. Pinner. It wasn't easy for me to find this errand, and I liked it so much. ”

　　"What, sir, you deserve to soar, and it is not a good thing to do this." I want to tell you how much I value your talents. The position and salary I have given you are still low enough according to your talents, but compared with the Mawson Firm, it is a world of difference. Tell me, when are you going to work at Mawson? ”

　　"Next Monday."

　　"Ha, ha! I think I should risk making a bet that you don't have to go there at all. ”

　　"Not going to Mawson?""

　　"Yes, sir. On that day you will be the manager of central France Hardware Company, which has one hundred and thirty-four branches in urban and rural France, and one in Brussels and one in Sanremo. ”

　　"It surprised me." I've never heard of this company," I said.

　　"You probably haven't heard of it. The company has been operating silently because its capital is raised from private individuals and the business is booming, and there is no need to publicize it at all. My brother Harry Pinner was the founder, became general manager, and was on the board. He knew that I had traveled extensively here, and asked me to find him a man who was capable and not well paid, an energetic and obedient young man. Parker talked about you, so I'm here tonight. We can only give you a very thin five hundred pounds at the beginning. ”

　　"Five hundred pounds a year!" I shouted.

　　"But this is only in the beginning; otherwise, you can withdraw one percent of the commission on any turnover completed by your distributors. You can take my word for it, it will be more than your salary. ”

　　"But I don't know anything about hardware."

　　"What, my friend, you know accounting."

　　"My mind was buzzing, and I could hardly sit in my chair. But suddenly a little question came to mind.

　　"I must speak frankly to you," I said, "that the Mawsons give me only two hundred pounds a year, but the Mawsons are reliable. Ah, to be honest, I do know very little about your company..."

　　"Ah, shrewd, shrewd!" He shouted in ecstasy, "We need people like you." You're not going to be convinced, and that's right. Lo and behold, it's a hundred pound bill, and if you think we can close it, put it away as an advance salary. ”

　　"That's great," I said, "when will I take up my new position?" ”

　　"Tomorrow at one o'clock in Birmingham," he said, "I have a note in my pocket, and you can take it to see my brother." You can go to the temporary office of this company, 126 Coppleson Street B. Of course he has to approve of your appointment, but it's not a problem between us. ”

　　"To be honest, I hardly know how to say thank you, Mr. Pinner." I said.

　　"You're welcome, my friend. It's just what you deserve. But there are one or two little things that I have to do with you, and that's just a formality. You have a piece of paper in your hand, please write on it: I am fully willing to be the manager of the French Central Hardware Company, with an annual salary of at least five hundred pounds. ”

　　I wrote as he said, and he put the paper in his pocket.

　　"One more little thing," he said, "is what are you going to do with Mawson?" ”

　　"I was so happy that I forgot all about the Mawson Firm." I'll write to them to resign," I said.

　　"I just don't want you to do that. For your sake, I had a verbal altercation with the manager of Mawson Trading House. I went to ask him about you, and he was very rude, accusing me of taking you away from their business and so on. I finally couldn't help but say, "If you want to use some talented people, then you should give them a good salary." He said, "He would rather accept our low salary than take your high salary." I said, "I'll bet you five gold pounds, and if he accepts my offer, you'll never hear back from him again." He said, "Good! We rescued him from the slums, and he wouldn't leave us so easily. "That's what he said."

　　"This rude villain!" I shouted, "We've never met, so why do I have to take care of him?" If you don't want me to write to him, I certainly won't write to him. ”

　　"Good! That's it," he said, rising from his chair, "well, I'm glad to find such a talented man for my brother." This is your hundred pounds advance salary, this is the letter. Please make a note of the address, 126 Coppleson Street B, and remember that the agreed time is tomorrow at one o'clock in the afternoon. Good night and all the best! ”

　　"That's all I remember talking about the two of us. Dr. Watson, you can imagine how happy I would have been to have paid such good luck. I was secretly glad that I couldn't fall asleep in the middle of the night. The next day I took the train to Birmingham, so I had plenty of time to go to the appointment. I left my luggage in a hotel on New Avenue and went to look for it at the address introduced.

　　"It was a quarter of an hour earlier than I had agreed, but I guess it didn't matter. No. 126 B is a corridor sandwiched between two large shops, and at the end is a curved stone staircase from which there are many suites, rented to some companies or freelancers as offices. The wall is written with the tenant's name tag, but there is no name tag of the French Central Hardware Company. I stood for a moment in trepidation, wondering if the whole incident was an elaborate hoax, when a man came up to greet me, very much like the man I had seen last night, of the same shape and voice, but with a shaved beard and a lighter hair.

　　"Are you Mr. Hall Paycroft?" he asked.

　　"Yes," I said.

　　"Ah! I'm waiting for you, but you're a little earlier than the agreed time. I received a letter from my brother this morning, in which he praised you. ”

　　"I was looking for your office when you came."

　　"Because we just rented these temporary offices last week, we haven't hung up our company's name tag yet. Come with me, and we'll talk about business. ”

　　"I followed him up to the very top floor of the tall building, just below the slate tiles on the roof, and there were two empty, dusty little rooms with no curtains or carpets, and he led me in. I had imagined it as my usual example, a spacious office with a few clean desks and rows of staff. But I saw that there were only two pine chairs and a small table in the house, and there was only a general ledger on the table, and a waste paper basket, and that was all the decorations.

　　"Please do not be discouraged, Monsieur Paicroft," said my new acquaintance, seeing the unhappiness on my face, "Rome was not built in a day, and we are well capitalized, but we do not sit on the office. Please sit down and give me that letter. ”

　　I handed him the letter, and he read it very carefully.

　　"It seems that my brother Arthur was very impressed with you," he said, "and I know that he is very knowledgeable and responsible." You know, he trusts the Londoners deeply, and I trust the People of Birmingham, but this time I accepted his recommendation and you've been officially hired. ”

　　"What is my task?" I asked.

　　"You will have to manage the large warehouses in Paris, and you will continue to ship the pottery made in England to one hundred and thirty-four consignment stores in France. You can buy this batch within a week, and during this time you have to stay in Birmingham to do something beneficial. ”

　　"What's the matter?'

　　He didn't answer, and took out a big red book from the drawer.

　　"This is a list of Parisian businesses," he said, "with the name of the industry after the name." I would like to ask you to take it home and copy down the hardware dealers and their addresses. This is of great use to us. ”

　　"I must do it, but isn't there a classification table?" I suggest.

　　"Those watches are unreliable. Their classification is different from ours. Hurry up and give me the list at twelve o'clock on Monday. Goodbye, Mr. Pakrofte. If you continue to act enthusiastic and competent, you will see that the company is a good host. ”

　　I went back to the hotel with the big book in my armpits, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, I had been formally hired and had a hundred pounds in my pocket; on the other hand, the appearance of the office, the fact that the company had no name plate, and everything else that was clear to an industrialist, gave me a bad impression of the economic situation of the owner. Anyway, however, I got the money anyway, so I sat down and transcribed it. I worked hard all Sunday, but it wasn't until Monday that I copied the letter H. I went to my owner' house, but found him in the house that seemed to have been looted. He told me to copy until Wednesday and then go to him. But by Wednesday I hadn't finished copying it, so I worked until Friday, which was yesterday. Then I took the copied things with me and gave them to Mr. Harry Pinner.

　　"Thank you very much," he said, "I am afraid I have underestimated the difficulty of this task. This list has a great practical use for me. ”

　　"I spent a lot of time," I said.

　　"Now," he said, "I want you to copy another list of furniture stores that sell porcelain." ”

　　"It was good."

　　"You can come here at seven o'clock tomorrow night and tell me how it's going. Please don't get too tired, after a day's work, go to the Days Hall in the evening to enjoy two hours of music, it will be beneficial to you. "He was smiling when he spoke, and when I looked at it, I was horrified because his second tooth on the upper left side was inlaid with gold teeth."

　　Sherlock Holmes rubbed his hands excitedly, and I looked at our client in amazement.

　　"Obviously you're amazed, Dr. Watson. "Here's the thing," he said, "when I was talking to the guy in London, he heard me say I wasn't going to the Mawson Firm, and he smiled, and I stumbled upon him with gold teeth in his second tooth. You know, I saw a flash of gold on both occasions, plus the two people's voices and body shapes are exactly the same, but those places that can be modified with razors or wigs are different. Therefore, I have no doubt that their "brothers" are the same person. Of course, one would think that two brothers might look exactly the same, but they would never have the same shape of gold teeth on the same tooth. He respectfully sent me out, and I walked down the street, almost not knowing how to be good. I went back to the hotel, washed my hair in the cool basin of water, and racked my brains to think about it. Why did he send me to Birmingham? Why did he come before me? Why did he write a letter to himself? All in all, these questions are too nerve-wracking for me to figure out in any way. Then it occurred to me that what seemed to me to be a cloud of smoke might seem to Sherlock Holmes to know it all. I have just caught the night train back into town, and this morning I have come to visit Mr. Holmes and have invited you two to come with me back to Birmingham. ”

　　After the clerk of the securities broker had finished talking about his strange experience, we were all silent. Then Sherlock Holmes glanced at me and leaned back on the cushion, a look of satisfaction and comment on his face, as if a taster had just taken his first sip.

　　"Pretty good, right? Watson," he said, "there are many things in it that interest me. I think you must agree with me that our visit to the temporary office of The French Central Hardware Company to mr. Arthur Pinner must have been a rather interesting experience for you and me. ”

　　"But how can we visit him?" I asked.

　　"Ah, it's easy," said Hall Pakecroft happily, "and I'll just say that you're my friends and want to find a messenger, so wouldn't it be more natural for me to take the two of you to the general manager?" ”

　　"Of course, exactly," said Holmes, "I would love to meet this gentleman and see if I can find a clue from his little trick." My friend, what ability do you have to make your service so valuable? Maybe it can be..." He said this, and began to nibble his fingernails, staring blankly out the window until we reached New Street and didn't hear a word from him again.

　　At seven o'clock that evening, the three of us strolled to the office of the company on Coppleson Street.

　　"It is of no use for us to come earlier," said our client, "and it is evident that he has only come here to meet me, for the room is empty except for the time he has specified." ”

　　"It's thought-provoking," said Holmes.

　　"Ah, listen to me!" The secretary shouted, "He is walking in front of us." ”

　　He pointed to a small, dark, neatly dressed man who was hurrying across the street. When we met him, he saw a child across the street selling evening newspapers, just between the carriage and the bus, who had bought a copy of the evening newspaper from the child, and then, holding it in his hand, went through the door.

　　"He's got there!" Hall Paichrovt shouted, "He went into the office of that company." Come with me, I try to make things as easy as possible. ”

　　We followed him up five floors to a half-open room, where our client knocked softly and a voice inside told us to enter. We walked into an empty, unprepared room, as Hall Pakeroft had introduced. The man we met on the street was sitting at the only table with the evening newspaper in front of him. When he looked up at us, it was as if I had never seen a face whose expression was so sad, not only grief, but like the extreme horror of life and death. Beads of sweat on his forehead, dead white cheeks like a fish's belly, eyes wide open, staring dead at his clerk as if he didn't know him, and I could tell from the look of amazement on our guide's face that this was by no means the usual expression of his owner.

　　"You don't look good! Mr. Pinner," Hall said.

　　"Yes, I'm not very comfortable," replied Pinner, apparently trying to regain his composure, licking his dry lips before speaking, "Who are these two gentlemen you brought?" ”

　　"One is Mr. Harris of Bermond, and the other is Mr. Price of the town," said our client, "they are my friends and two experienced gentlemen, but they have been unemployed lately, and they hope that maybe you can find them a way out in the company." ”

　　"It's so possible! Too possible! Mr. Pinner grudgingly smiled and said out loud, "By the way, I'm sure we can do our best for you." Mr. Harris, what is your specialty? ”

　　"I'm an accountant," said Holmes.

　　"Ah, well, we need such human resources. Mr. Rice, what about you? ”

　　"I'm a clerk." I said.

　　"I hope the company will accept you, and as soon as we make a decision, I will let you know." Now please go, look at God's face, and let me be quiet! ”

　　He shouted the last few words so loudly that it was as if he could no longer control himself. Holmes and I looked at each other, and Hall Paichrovt took a step closer to the table.

　　"You forgot, Mr. Pinner, that I was here by appointment to listen to your instructions," he said.

　　"Of course, Mr. Paicroft, of course," said the other, in a calmer tone, "you may wait here for a moment, and your friends may also wait, and in three minutes I shall obey your orders completely," he said politely, nodded to us, and walked out of the door at the other end of the room, and closed it at once.

　　"What now?" Holmes whispered, "Did he run away?" ”

　　"Impossible." Pakrofte replied.

　　"Why is it impossible?"

　　"That door leads to the suite."

　　"No exit?"

　　"Nothing."

　　"Is there furniture in it?"

　　"Yesterday was empty."

　　"So what exactly can he do inside?" This matter really makes me scratch my head, is this person named Pinner crazy? What could scare him to the point of trembling? ”

　　"He must have suspected we were detectives," I reminded.

　　"It must be so," said Pakroft aloud.

　　Holmes shook his head. "He was not frightened when he saw us, he was already pale when we entered this room," said Holmes, "only if it could be..." A loud knocking sound came from the side of the suite door, interrupting Holmes's words.

　　"Why did he knock on the door inside himself?" The clerk shouted.

　　The knock on the door rang again, and it was even louder. We all stared expectantly at the closed door. I glanced at Holmes and saw that he had a grim face and was leaning forward with great excitement. Then suddenly there was a low throat grunt, a thumping sound of a wooden object. Holmes rushed forward in a frenzy and slammed the door. But the door was bolted from the inside. We also followed his example and slammed the door with all our strength. One of the gate lobes suddenly broke, and then the other broke. The door slammed down. We rushed through the door and into the suite, but there was no one inside.

　　We felt overwhelmed for a moment, but it didn't take much effort to find a small door in the corner of the room near where we had entered. Holmes rushed over and pushed the door open, and saw a coat and vest thrown on the floor, and on a hook behind the door, the general manager of Central France Hardware Co., Ltd. hanged himself around his neck with the strap of his pants. His knees were bent, his head hanging at a terrible angle from his body, his two heels banging on the wooden door, and it was this sound that interrupted our conversation. I grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up, and Holmes and Paichrovt untied the elastic trouser strap that had long since been pulled into his bruised skin. We got him to the outhouse. He lay there, his face earth-colored, his purple lips trembling with a slight gasp, a look of astonishment, not at all what he had been five minutes before.

　　"Do you think he can still be saved, Watson?" Holmes asked.

　　I leaned down and examined the man. His pulse was faint and intermittent, but his breathing was getting longer and longer, his eyelids fluttering slightly, and white eyeballs appeared under his eyelids.

　　"He was dangerous," I said, "but now he's been saved." Please open the window and give me the cold water bottle," I unbuttoned him by the collar, poured some cold water over his face, and gave him artificial respiration until he naturally let out a long, natural breath.

　　"It's only a matter of time now," I said as I walked away from him.

　　Holmes stood at the table, his hands in his trouser pockets, his head bowed.

　　"I think we should get the police now," he said, "and when they come, we'll give them the whole case." ”

　　"Heck, I still don't understand it at all," Crippecroft cried, scratching his head, "no matter what they specifically brought me here for, but..."

　　"Ahem! It's all clear! Holmes said impatiently, "It is for this final sudden action." ”

　　"So, do you know everything else?"

　　"I think it's extremely obvious, Watson, what's your opinion?"

　　I shrugged my shoulders. "I must admit that I am very good at this." I said.

　　"Ah, if you think about these things first, you can come to a conclusion."

　　"So what exactly did you come to?"

　　"Well, there are two key points in the whole case. The first point is that he asked Pykrovt to write a statement about serving this absurd company, and you still don't understand how thought-provoking it is? ”

　　"I'm afraid I didn't get to that point."

　　"So why did they want him to write this statement?" This is not the norm, since arrangements such as these are usually orally agreed upon, and there is no reason to break with convention this time. My young friends, don't you see that they are so desperate to get your handwriting and have no other way to get it? ”

　　"Why should I have my handwriting?"

　　"Very good, why? Answering this question, our case has made great progress. Why? There can only be one proper reason, and that is that someone wants to imitate your handwriting and has to pay for a sample of your handwriting. Now let's look at the second point and see that these two points can explain each other. The second point was that Pinker wanted you not to resign, and to give hope to the manager of the blockbuster business that he had never met, Mr. Hall Paekcroft, was going to work on Monday morning. ”

　　"Oh my Goodness!" Our client shouted, "How blind I am! ”

　　"Now look at why he got your handwriting." Suppose someone impersonates you to go to work, but the handwriting is not the same as the one you submitted in the application, of course, this trick will be exposed. But if in a few days the scoundrel learns to imitate your handwriting, then he will be foolproof, because I believe that no one in this company has ever seen you. ”

　　"No one has seen me," Said Hall Pacroft with a sigh.

　　"Great. Of course, the most important point of this matter is to try not to make you change your mind and not to let you contact anyone in the know, lest someone tell you that the imposter is already working at Mawson. So they pay him a high salary in advance and send you to the Midlands, where they give you a lot of work to make it impossible for you to return to London, or you'll break through their little tricks. All this is very clear. ”

　　"But why would this man pretend to be his own brother?"

　　"Ah, that's pretty obvious too. Apparently there were only two of them. The other person has entered the Mawson Firm under your name, they don't want a third party to participate in the conspiracy, and they want someone to be your owner, so he tries to disguise himself and pretend to be two brothers, believing that even if you find that they look similar, you will think that the brothers look the same. If you hadn't stumbled upon his gold teeth, you wouldn't have been suspicious. ”

　　Hall Paichrovt held his fists in the air with both hands. "Oh my God!" He cried out, "What did that fake Hall Pycroft do in the Mawson firm while I was being fooled?" What are we going to do? Mr. Holmes. Please advise me on what to do? ”

　　"We have to send a telegram to Mawson."

　　"They close every Saturday at twelve o'clock."

　　"It doesn't matter. There will be some janitors or guards..."

　　"Ah, yes, because they keep a lot of valuable securities, and they have a standing guard. I remember hearing about it in town. ”

　　"Great, we'll send him a telegram to see if everything is working properly, and if there's a clerk who pretends to be your name working there." This is very clear, but what I don't quite understand is why, as soon as he saw us, one of them, Lai, immediately ran out and hanged himself? ”

　　"Newspapers!" There was a hoarse voice behind us. The man had sat up, his face as pale as a dead man's, his eyes restored, and his hands caressed the wide red strangles around his throat.

　　"Newspapers! Of course! Holmes suddenly cried out excitedly, "What an idiot I am!" I thought too much about our visit and didn't think of the newspaper at all. Surely, the secret is in the newspaper. "He spread the newspaper out on the table and cried out in ecstasy." Look at this one, Watson. "This is a London newspaper, the early version of the Evening Banner." What we need here, please look at the headline in big letters: 'City Robbery Case.' Mawson and Williams Have Murders. A premeditated heist. Criminals are arrested. "Watson, isn't that all we want to know?" Please read it aloud to us. ”

　　The fact that this report took up a place in the newspaper showed that this was an important case in the city, and it was recorded as follows:

　　"There was a vicious robbery in London this afternoon, one person was killed and the perpetrator was arrested. Not long ago, Mawson and Williams, a well-known securities house with a huge amount of securities of more than one million pounds, set up guards. Realizing the magnitude of the responsibility on his shoulders, the manager set up some state-of-the-art safes and set up an armed guard upstairs to guard them day and night. Last week the company recruited a new employee, Hall Pakecroft. It turned out that this person was none other than a notorious counterfeiter and a thief, Bedington. The prisoner and his brother had just completed five years of hard labour and were released. It has not yet been ascertained how they used pseudonyms to obtain the appointment of the company in order to obtain a thorough understanding of the settings of the vault and the vault and vault by means of a pattern of hunting for various lock keys.

　　According to the custom of the Maureen Company, the staff is closed at noon on Saturdays. So, at 1:20 p.m., Scottish Yard Sergeant Tucson was amazed when he saw a man coming out with a felt handbag. This man led to other suspicions, and he followed, and although the criminals struggled to resist, Tucson, with the help of the policeman Pollock, finally captured him. It was immediately ascertained that there had been a daring robbery. Nearly £100,000 worth of U.S. rail bonds were found in handbags, in addition to huge shares of mining and other companies. During an inspection of the house, the body of the unfortunate guard was found bent and tucked into a large closet, and had it not been for Officer Tucson's decisive action, the body would not have been found by Monday morning. The guard's skull was smashed from behind with fire tongs. There must be no doubt that Beddington must have forgotten something, entered the building, killed the guards, quickly looted the contents of the large safe, and then escaped with the stolen goods. His brother often joined him in crimes, but after investigation, he did not seem to be involved, but the police are still trying to find out his whereabouts. ”

　　"Well, we can save the police department a lot of trouble in this regard," said Holmes, glancing at the withered man huddled by the window, "human nature is a strange mixture, Watson, you see, even a villain and a murderer can have such feelings: the younger brother seeks short-sightedness as soon as he hears that the older brother is going to lose his head." But we must act. The doctor and I stayed behind to guard, Mr. Paicroft, and you went to get the police. ”

　　Hospitalized patients

　　I took a cursory look at a series of incoherent memoirs, trying to use them to illustrate some of the intellectual characteristics of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, but found it difficult to pick out the examples I needed. Because in the process of solving these cases, although Holmes used his ingenious method of analytical reasoning to confirm the importance of his unique investigation and research method, the case itself is often insignificant and ordinary, and I think it is really not worth introducing to the reader. On the other hand, it is also often the case that he has participated in the investigation of some bizarre and dramatic cases, but his role in the investigation process has not fulfilled the wishes of the person who wrote him a biography. I once recounted a small case titled "The Study of The Blood Letter", and later another case concerning the crash of the three-masted galleon "Gloria Scott", which can be used as rocks and whirlpools that will always amaze historians [rocks and whirlpools: a rock reef in the Strait of Messina, Italy, with a large whirlpool opposite it. Here the author uses it to describe thrilling. — The example of "Translator's Note". Although my friend did not play a very important role in solving the case, the whole case was very strange, and I felt that it was really impossible to leave it out.

　　It was a sweltering rainy day in July, and our curtains were half down, and Holmes was curled up on the couch, reading and reading again a letter he had received in the morning. Since I had served in the military in India, I had developed the habit of being afraid of cold and not afraid of heat, so although the cold and heat watch had reached ninety degrees Fahrenheit, I did not feel uncomfortable. But the newspapers of the day were boring. Parliament has adjourned and people have left the city. I long to visit the clearings in the new forest or the pebbled beaches of the South China Sea. But due to my tight savings, I postponed my vacation. And for my partner, neither the country nor the waterfront aroused his interest. He liked to mingle only in the center of five million people, and was particularly concerned with every little rumor or suspicion about the outstanding cases among them. He was not at all interested in appreciating nature. His only change was to visit his brother in the countryside.

　　I noticed that Holmes was so preoccupied that he could not speak, so I tossed aside the dull newspaper, leaned back against my chair, and fell into contemplation. Suddenly my partner's voice interrupted my thoughts.

　　"You're right, Watson," said Holmes, "it seems absurd to settle disputes in this way." ”

　　"It's ridiculous!" I said out loud, suddenly thinking, how could he perceive my innermost thoughts? I sat up straight, staring blankly at him.

　　"What's going on? "Holmes," I shouted, "this is so unexpected. ”

　　Holmes saw my confused look and burst out laughing.

　　"You remember not so long ago," he said, "I read to you a story written by Poe about a man of strict reasoning who could detect the unspoken thoughts of his companions, and which you thought was a pure fiction of the author's ingenuity. When I suggested that I was often used to doing so, you were skeptical. ”

　　"I didn't say that!"

　　"Maybe you didn't say it, my dear Watson. But you can see it between your eyebrows. Therefore, when I see you throwing the newspaper down and falling into contemplation, I am glad to have the opportunity to study your thoughts and finally interrupt your thoughts in order to prove that I have guessed your thoughts. ”

　　But I was still not satisfied with his explanation.

　　"In the story you read to me," I said, "the reasoner draws conclusions based on observing the man's movements. If I remember correctly, the man tripped over a pile of rocks, looked up at the stars, and made some other movements. But what clue can I give you as I sit still in my chair? ”

　　"You're misjudging yourself. The five senses of man are tools for expressing feelings, and your five senses are servants who faithfully perform this duty. ”

　　"You mean you see a series of my thoughts in my countenance?"

　　"From your face, especially your eyes. Maybe you can't remember how you got into thought. ”

　　"Yes, I can't remember."

　　"Well, I'll tell you. You drop the newspaper, and this action catches my attention to you. After that, you sat there dazed for half a minute. Later, your eyes gazed at your newly framed portrait of General Gordon, and I could tell from the change in your facial expression that you were already beginning to think about things. But you don't think very far. Then your eyes turn to the unframed portrait of Henry Ward Beecher on your bookshelf. Then you look up at the wall again, and of course your intentions are obvious. You're thinking that if this portrait had a frame, it would have hung in the empty space on the wall, side by side with the gordon statue. ”

　　"You're really following my thoughts!" I exclaimed.

　　"I haven't missed it yet." Then your mind returns to Beecher, and you gaze intently at his portrait, as if to study his character precisely from his face. Later you stopped frowning, but continued to stare, and your face showed a contemplative look, which showed that you were thinking about the events that Beecher had experienced. I am sure that you cannot but think of his mission on behalf of the North during the Civil War, for I remember that you expressed great indignation at what had happened to him. You feel this very strongly, so I know you can't think of Beecher without thinking about it. After a while I saw your gaze take off the portrait, and I felt your mind turn to the Civil War again. When I find your lips closed, your eyes shining, and your hands clenched, I'm sure you're thinking about the heroism of both sides in this fierce battle between you and your life. But your face grew darker again, and you shook your head. You are thinking of the tragedy, horror, and futile death and injury of many people in war. One of your hands slowly moved to your own old scar, and a smile appeared on your lips, and I could see that you were thinking that such a solution to an international problem was ridiculous. On this point, I agree with you that it is very absurd, and I am glad to know that all my inferences are correct. ”

　　"Exactly!" I said, "Now that you've explained it, I admit I'm as surprised as ever. ”

　　"It's very superficial, my dear Watson, I assure you. If you hadn't expressed some doubts that day, I would never have interrupted your train of thought. But tonight the breeze is breezy, and we go for a walk together on the streets of London, what do you think? ”

　　Tired of our little living room, I readily agreed. We walked together for three hours on Fleet Street and the riverfront, watching the tidal and ever-changing scenes of life. Holmes's unique arguments, keen observation of details and ingenious reasoning made me extremely interested and fascinated. When we returned to Baker Street, it was already ten o'clock. A four-wheeled bridge carriage was waiting in front of our apartment.

　　"Ha! I see that this is a doctor's carriage, a general doctor," said Holmes, "and it has only recently opened, but his business is not bad." I think he came to us to discuss things. What a coincidence we came back! ”

　　I am well aware of Holmes's methods of investigation and are good at understanding his reasoning. Under the lights of the car hung a wicker basket containing a variety of medical devices, and I knew that Holmes had made a quick judgment based on the type and condition of these medical devices. As you can see from the light from our window upstairs, this night visitor has indeed come looking for us. I wondered in my heart: What would make a colleague come to us at such a moment? I followed Holmes close to our apartment.

　　A pale, pointy-faced man with an earthy yellow beard saw us come in and got up from a chair by the fireplace. He was at most thirty-three or four years old, but his haggard countenance and bad complexion showed that life had drained him of energy and robbed him of his youth. He behaved shyly and shyly, like a very sensitive gentleman, and when he stood up, the thin white hand that was propped up on the mantelpiece did not look like a surgeon' but like an artist's. His clothes were plain and dull—a black gown coat, dark pants, and a tie of less vivid colors.

　　"Good night, Doctor," said Holmes cheerfully, "I am glad that you have only waited for us for a few minutes. ”

　　"So, you talked to my coachman?"

　　"No, I saw it from the candle on the table next to me. Please sit down, please tell me what you have to do with me. ”

　　"I am Dr. Percy Trevillian," said our visitor, "living at 403 Brooke Street." ”

　　"Aren't you the author of the paper "Unexplained Nerve Damage?"? I asked.

　　When he heard that I knew his writings, his pale cheeks flushed with joy.

　　"I rarely hear about it, and the publisher told me that it wasn't very popular, and I thought no one knew about it," said the visitor. ”

　　"I'm a retired surgeon."

　　"I'm interested in neurology. I would love to be able to study it specifically, but of course a man must do what he can do first. However, this is a digression. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I know how precious your time is. In my apartment on Brook Street, a series of very strange things have happened recently. Tonight, these things have reached a very serious juncture, and I feel that I can't delay any longer, and I must come right away and ask you for advice and help. ”

　　Sherlock Holmes sat down and lit a pipe.

　　"You want me to come up with ideas and help, and I'm very welcome." Holmes said, "Tell me in detail about the things that disturb you. ”

　　"One or two of those points are not worth saying," Trevillian said, "and I am ashamed to mention them." But this matter is very inexplicable, and recently it has become more complicated, and I have to put everything in front of you, please take the essence of it, get rid of its dross.

　　"First of all, I had to talk about certain things in my college life. I was a student at the University of London, and I am sure that if I told you that my professor thought I was a promising student, you wouldn't think I was being too boastful. After graduating, I took on a less important position at Royal Roads University Hospital and continued to devote my research to research. I was fortunate that my research on the pathology of ankylosing fainting was of great interest, and I wrote a monograph on nerve damage that your friend just mentioned and finally won the Bruce Pinkerton Prize and Medal. I'm no exaggeration to say that at the time people thought I had a great future.

　　"But my biggest obstacle is the lack of funds. It's not hard to know that for an expert to be famous, he has to open his business on one of the twelve main streets in the Cavendish Square district. This requires huge rents and equipment fees. In addition to the start-up costs, he had to prepare money to sustain himself for several years, and rent a decent carriage and horse. To meet these requirements, I really can't reach it.

　　I can only hope to cut back on food and clothing, and save up for ten years before I can get listed as a medical practitioner. However, suddenly an unexpected thing opened up a whole new realm for me.

　　"This is the visit of a gentleman named Brexington. Brightington and I didn't know each other, and one morning he suddenly walked into my room and talked straight about his intentions.

　　"'Are you the most recently awarded Mr. Percy Trevillian who achieved remarkable achievements?' he said.

　　I nodded.

　　"'Please answer my question frankly,' he continued, 'and you'll see that it's good for you to do that.'" You are very talented and will become a person of achievement. Do you understand? Hearing such a sudden question, I couldn't help but laugh.

　　"'I'm sure I'll do my best,'" I said.

　　"'Do you have bad habits?' Don't drink alcohol? "'No, sir!' I said out loud.

　　"'Great! That's great! But I must ask, since you have these skills, why don't you practice medicine? I shrugged.

　　"'Yeah, yeah!' He hurriedly said, 'This is not surprising. You have a lot of stuff in your head, but you have nothing in your pocket, right? What would you say if I helped you open your business in Brooke Street? ’

　　I stared at him in amazement.

　　"'Ah, this is for my own benefit, not for your sake,' he exclaimed, 'I am very frank with you, and if this is right for you, it is more appropriate for me.' I have a few thousand pounds ready to invest, you know, I think I can invest in you. ”

　　"'Then why?' I asked busily.

　　"'Ah, it's like any other speculative business, but it's safer.'"

　　"'So, what should I do?'

　　"'Of course I'm going to tell you.' I'm going to rent a house for you, put on furniture, hire maids, manage everything. All you have to do is sit in the office and see the doctor. I'll give you pocket money and everything you need. Then you give me three-quarters of the money you make, and the remaining quarter, which you keep for yourself. ’

　　"This is the strange suggestion that the man named Brexington made to me, Mr. Holmes, and I will not recount how we negotiated and closed the deal, so as not to annoy you. As a result, I was on the Day of the Annunciation [The Annunciation: Every year on March 25 as the Feast of the Annunciation, the annunciation angel Gabriel informed the Virgin Mary of the birth of Jesus. He moved into the apartment and opened for business on the terms he had proposed. He himself moved in with me as an inpatient patient. His heart was weak, and apparently he needed regular treatment. He himself lived in two of the best houses on the second floor, one for the living room and one for the bedroom, and he had a strange temper, and he was reclusive and closed doors. His life was very irregular, but in some respects it was extremely regular. At the same time every night, he came to my office to check the accounts. For the consultation fees I earned, he left me five shillings and threepence for each kini [one kini for twenty-one shillings, one shilling for twelve pence, and a quarter of a kini for exactly five shillings and three pence]. He took the rest and put them in the safe in his own house.

　　"I can say with great confidence that he will never regret this speculative business. From the beginning, the business was successful. I handled several cases brilliantly and my reputation in affiliated hospitals made me famous very quickly, and in recent years I have made him a rich man.

　　"Mr. Holmes, my past experiences and relationship with Mr. Brightington are these. I'm going to tell you that there's only one question left right now, and that's what happened that brought me here tonight for advice.

　　"A few weeks ago, Mr. Brightington came downstairs to look for me. I seemed to feel that his mood was extremely excited. He mentioned that there had been some thefts in London's West End, and I recall that he was obviously not so agitated at the time, and he declared that we should strengthen the doors and windows and bolts, and we should not delay a day. During the week, he fidgeted, looking out the window, and even the short walk he had taken for granted before lunch had stopped. His every move gave me the impression that he was scared to death about something or who, but when I asked him about it, he became very rude, so I stopped talking about it. As the days passed, his fear seemed to fade away, and he returned to normal. But something recent has happened that has put him in the present state of pitiful and despicable weakness.

　　"Here's the thing: two days ago I received a letter, and I'll read it to you now, with neither address nor date.

　　"A Russian nobleman living in England (the letter reads) was eager to see Dr. Percy Trevellian. For several years he suffered from ankylosing fainting, and Dr. Trevillian was a well-known authority in the treatment of this condition. He was ready to come to the clinic around six o'clock tomorrow night, and if dr. Trevillian was convenient, please wait at home. ’

　　"This letter intrigued me deeply. Because the main difficulty in studying ankylosing disorder is that the disease is rare. You can believe that I was waiting in my office when the little adversary picked up the patient at the allotted time.

　　"He was a small old man, unusually restrained, and very ordinary—not like an imaginary Russian aristocrat. The appearance of his companion impressed me deeply. It was a tall young man, dark-faced, astonishingly beautiful, but with a fierce look, and a look of Hercules [Hercules: The son of the main god Zeus in Greek mythology, with infinite power. Limbs and chest. When they came in, he put his hand around one of the old man's arms and helped the old man to the chair, acting so thoughtfully that it was hard to predict from his appearance that he would do this.

　　"'Doctor, forgive me for coming here,' he said to me in English, somewhat incoherently, 'This is my father, and his health is of the utmost importance to me.'"

　　"I was deeply touched to see him so filial." Perhaps, during the consultation, you are willing to stay in the clinic? I said.

　　"'Absolutely not,' he exclaimed, 'I can't stand this pain. If I saw the terrible look my father had when he had a seizure, I believe I wouldn't have been able to stand it. My own neurotics are also very sensitive. If you allow me, I can wait in the waiting room when you treat my father. ’

　　"I certainly agreed to do so, and the young man left. The patient and I began to study his condition, and I wrote it down in detail. His intellect is very average, and he often answers questions vaguely, which I think is due to the fact that he does not know much about our language. However, just as I was sitting writing my medical records, he suddenly stopped answering my inquiry, and when I turned to him, I was very surprised to see him sitting straight in his chair, his face expressionless, his muscles strong, and his eyes staring straight at me. His illness flared up again.

　　"As I said earlier, my initial feeling was both pity and fear. Later, my professional interests prevailed. I jotted down the patient's pulse and body temperature, tried his muscle rigidity, checked his reflexes, and found no inconsistencies with the cases I had previously diagnosed. In past such cases, I have used alkyl nitrite inhalers and have achieved good results. Now seems to be an excellent opportunity to experiment with its efficacy. The bottle was downstairs in my lab, so I dropped the patient sitting in the chair and ran downstairs to get the medicine. There was some delay in finding the medicine, about five minutes, and then I came back. But the room was empty, and the patient was no longer where he was, so I could imagine how surprised I was.

　　"Of course, I ran to the waiting room first, and his son was gone. The front door was closed, but it was not locked. My little listener who received the sick was a new servant, not clever. Usually he always waited downstairs, and when I rang the bell in the clinic, he ran to lead the patient out. He didn't hear anything, and the matter became a mystery. It wasn't long before Mr. Brightington came back from a walk, but I didn't tell him anything about it, because, to be honest, I've been talking to him as little as possible lately.

　　"Ah, I don't think I'll ever see the shadow of this Russian and his son again, so you can imagine how surprised I was when the two of them came to my office again this evening, and at that time, as they did yesterday.

　　"'I felt so sorry yesterday when I left suddenly, doctor,'" my patient said.

　　"'I confess, I'm very strange about this,'" I said.

　　"'Ah, this is the case,' he said, 'and every time I wake up, my memory of everything that happened when I was sick is always very vague.' I seem to think that I woke up in a strange house, and when you were not there, I got up and went out into the street in a daze. ’

　　"'What about me,' said his son, 'when he saw my father walking past the door of the waiting room, he naturally thought that he had finished his treatment.'" I didn't know the truth until we got home. ’

　　"'Well,' I smiled and said, 'there's nothing else you've confused me about.' So, sir, if you would like to go to the waiting room, I am glad to continue with the diagnosis and treatment that was suddenly interrupted yesterday. ’

　　"I discussed his condition with the old gentleman for about half an hour, and later I prescribed him, after which I saw him walk out with the support of his son.

　　"I have already told you that Mr. Brexington usually goes out for a walk at this time. Not much effort, he came back from a walk and went upstairs. After a while, I heard him running down the stairs and rushing into my office like a frightened man.

　　"'Who went into my house?' He shouted.

　　"'No one has ever been.'" I said.

　　"'Lie!' He roared angrily, 'Come up and see!' ’

　　"I didn't pay attention to the rudeness of his speech because he was so frightened that he almost went crazy. When I went upstairs with him, he pointed out a few footprints on the light-colored carpet to me.

　　"'Do you say this is my footprint?' He shouted.

　　"These footprints are certainly much larger than his, and apparently left not so long ago. You know, it rained heavily at noon today, and my patients were only the father and son who had just come. It must have been the man waiting in the waiting room, then, who, for some purpose, went upstairs into my inpatient room while I was busy diagnosing the old man. Nothing was moved, nothing was taken, but the footprints proved, without a doubt, that someone had gone in.

　　Although it was disturbing, Mr. Brightington seemed unexpectedly agitated. He was sitting in an armchair and shouting, and I couldn't make him say it more clearly. It was he who offered me to come to you, and I certainly saw at once that it was appropriate to do so. For although he seems to have overestimated the importance of the matter, it is certain that there is something famous in it. You can only go back with me in my carriage, and you can at least calm him down, though I can hardly expect you to explain clearly what has happened. ”

　　Sherlock Holmes listened intently to this lengthy narrative, and I could see that the matter had aroused his intense interest. His face was expressionless as usual, but his eyes narrowed more and more, and the smoke rising from his pipe became thicker and thicker, making every bizarre episode of the doctor's story stand out. As soon as our visitor had finished speaking, Holmes stood up without saying a word, handed me my hat, grabbed his own hat from the table, and followed Dr. Trevillian to the door. In less than a quarter of an hour we were in front of the doctor's apartment on Brook Street. A small, short listener led us in, and we immediately walked up the wide, carpeted staircase.

　　But suddenly something strange happened that brought us to a halt. The lights on the roof of the building went out, and a shrill, trembling cry came from the darkness: "I have a pistol, and I warn you that if you go any further I will shoot." ”

　　"It's intolerable, Mr. Brexington," cried Dr. Trevillien.

　　"Ah, it was you, doctor," the man breathed a sigh of relief, "but didn't the other gentlemen impersonate them?" ”

　　We know that he has secretly made a careful observation of us.

　　"Good, good, not bad at all," the voice said at last, "you can come up, I'm sorry, I was so rude to you just now." ”

　　As he spoke, he lit the gas lamp on the stairs again, and we saw a strange-looking man standing in front of him. Judging from his appearance and the sound of his voice, he was indeed overly nervous. He was fat, but apparently there had been a time when he had been much fatter than he is now, so his face was like the cheeks of a hound, hunched over two loose sacks of meat. His face was pale, and his sparse earth-yellow hair seemed to stand up out of emotional excitement. He had a pistol in his hand, and as we walked up, he slipped the pistol into his pocket.

　　"Good night, Mr. Holmes," he said, "I am very grateful that you have come here. No one needs your advice more than I do. I think Dr. Trevillian has told you about someone breaking into my room illegally. ”

　　"Yes," said Holmes, "who are those two?" Mr. Brexington, why are they trying to tease you? ”

　　"Alas, alas," said the inpatient with an uneasy expression, "of course, it is difficult to say. It is hard for you to expect me to answer such a question, Mr. Holmes. ”

　　"You mean you don't know?"

　　"Please come here, please. Please come in with a good look. ”

　　He led us into his bedroom. The room was spacious and comfortably furnished.

　　"Look at this," he said, pointing to the large black box at the head of his bed, "I am not a very rich man, Mr. Holmes, and Dr. Trevillian may have told you. I have never invested in my life other than this investment. But I don't trust bankers, I never trust bankers, Mr. Holmes. Don't tell anyone that all my money is in this box. So you can see how much those uninvited guests broke into my house and affected me! ”

　　Holmes looked at Brexington doubtfully and shook his head.

　　"If you want to deceive me, I can't give you any ideas." Holmes said.

　　"But I've told you everything."

　　Holmes waved in disgust, turned and said, "Good night, Dr. Trivillian. ”

　　"Won't you give me some advice?" Brexington cried out in a trembling voice.

　　"My advice to you is to tell the truth, sir."

　　A minute later, we were already on the street and headed for our home. We crossed Oxford Street and it was only when we reached Harry Street that I heard my friend speak.

　　"I'm sorry to take you out for such a stupid man, Watson," said Holmes at last, "but in the final analysis, this is also a very interesting case." ”

　　"I can't see anything," I admitted frankly.

　　"Ah, obviously, there are two men, maybe more, but at least two men, for some reason, determined to find this guy from Brightington. I had no doubt in my mind that the young man had twice broken into Brightington's room, and that his accomplices had used a clever trick to keep the doctor from interfering. ”

　　"But what's going on with that tonic fainting?"

　　"That's a lie, Watson, and I don't want to talk too much to our experts in that regard. It is easy to pretend to be sick. I've done it myself. ”

　　"So what happened next?"

　　"It was entirely by chance that Brexington was not in the house twice. They chose to see the patient at such an unusual time, apparently because they were sure that there were no other patients in the waiting room. However, this time coincided with a walk in Brexington, which seemed to indicate that they did not know much about the daily habits of Bresington. Of course, if they were just trying to steal, they would at least try to search for property. Moreover, I could tell from the look in his eyes that he had been so frightened that he was out of his mind. Can't imagine this guy having formed two enemies like this, he wouldn't know. Therefore, I am sure that he knows who these two men are, and that, for his own sake, he conceals it, and it is likely that tomorrow he will confide in him. ”

　　"Isn't there another situation?" I said, "There's no doubt that this is almost impossible, but it's conceivable. Could it be that Dr. Trevillian himself had a bad intention and broke into the Room of Brightington and concocted the whole story of the Russian man with ankylosing disorder and his son? ”

　　I saw my thought in the vapor light and caused Holmes to laugh.

　　"My dear friend," said Holmes, "I thought so at first. But I quickly confirmed the story the doctor told. The young man had left footprints on the carpet of the stairs so that I would no longer have to look at the footprints he had left in the room. All I have to do is tell you that his shoes are square-topped, not pointed like Brexington's, and one inch and three inches longer than the doctor's shoes, and you can know, no doubt, that there is such a young man. But with that said, we can now sleep soundly. If tomorrow morning we don't hear anything new from Brook Street, it will surprise me. ”

　　Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled and took rather dramatic form. At half past seven the next morning, in the faint light of the morning, I saw Holmes standing by my bed in his dressing gown.

　　"There's a carriage waiting for us outside, Watson," said Holmes.

　　"So, what's going on?"

　　"It's Brook Street."

　　"Any new news?"

　　"It's a tragedy, but not necessarily," said Holmes as he pulled up the curtains, "look at this, this is a note torn from a notebook with a cursively written in pencil: 'Look in the face of God, come at once.' Percy Trevillian. Our friend, the doctor was in a very difficult situation when he wrote this note. Come with me, my dear friend, because the situation is urgent. ”

　　In a quarter of an hour or so we came to the doctor's apartment again. He ran to meet us with a look of horror on his face.

　　"Ah, something like this has happened!" He covered his temples with both hands and shouted.

　　"What happened?"

　　"Brightinton has committed suicide!"

　　Holmes whistled.

　　"Yes, he hanged himself last night."

　　We walked in and the doctor led us into the room that was obviously a waiting room.

　　"I really don't know what to do," he exclaimed, "and the police are upstairs." It literally freaked me out. ”

　　"When did you find out?"

　　"He had to ask his maid to bring him a cup of tea early every morning. At about seven o'clock, when the maid walked in, the unfortunate man was already hanging in the middle of the house. He tied a rope to the hook that usually hung the bulky gas lamp, and then he jumped from the top of the box he showed us yesterday and hanged himself. ”

　　Holmes stood for a moment in contemplation.

　　"If you allow it," said Holmes at last, "I would like to go upstairs and investigate this matter." ”

　　The two of us went upstairs, followed by the doctor.

　　As soon as we entered the bedroom door, we were confronted with a terrible sight. I used to say that The look of a braggy Brehington muscle. As he staggered on the hook, the look became more and more pronounced and ugly, and he didn't look like a person at all. His neck was elongated, like the neck of a plucked chicken, and the rest of his body seemed fatter and unnatural in comparison. He was wearing only a long nightgown. Under the pajamas, he straightened his unsightly feet and swollen neck.

　　Next to the body stood a capable detective, taking notes in a notebook.

　　"Ah, Mr. Holmes," said the sheriff cordially as soon as my friend came in, "I am glad to see you. ”

　　"Good morning, Lennor," replied Holmes, "I am sure you would not think that I was a criminal who broke into the house, would you?" Have you heard of some of the circumstances before this case occurred? ”

　　"Yes, I've heard some of it."

　　"What's your opinion?"

　　"As far as I can see, this man has been so frightened that he is out of his mind. You see, he slept in this bed for a long time, and there were deep indentations. You know, suicides often happen around five o'clock in the morning. That's about the time he hanged himself. It seems that he did this after much deliberation. ”

　　"Judging by the muscle stiffness, I saw that he had been dead for about three hours," I said.

　　"Did you notice anything unusual in the room?" Holmes asked.

　　"Found a screwdriver and some screws on the sink. He also found that he seemed to have smoked a lot of cigarettes at night. These are four cigar butts I picked from the fireplace. ”

　　"Ha!" Holmes said, "Have you found his cigar mouthpiece?" ”

　　"No, I didn't see it."

　　"So, what about his cigarette case?"

　　"Yes, the cigarette case is in his coat pocket."

　　Holmes opened the cigarette case and sniffed one of the cigars inside.

　　"Ah, this is a Havana cigarette, and these on the mantelpiece are special varieties imported by the Netherlands from its East Indies colonies. You know, these cigars are usually wrapped in straw and thinner than other brands. He picked up those four cigarette butts and examined them with the magnifying glass in his pocket.

　　"Two cigarettes were smoked with a mouthpiece, and two were not," said Holmes, "and two cigarette butts were cut with a small knife that was not very fast, and the other two were bitten down with sharp teeth." It wasn't suicide, Mr. Lennor, it was a brutal murder that had been carefully planned. ”

　　"Impossible!" The sheriff shouted.

　　"Why?"

　　"Why would a man use such a stupid method of hanging to commit murder?"

　　"That's what we're going to investigate."

　　"How did they get in?"

　　"Came in through the front door."

　　"The door is locked in the morning."

　　"Then the door was locked after they left."

　　"How do you know?"

　　"I saw the traces they left behind. Please wait a moment and I will be able to explain it to you further. ”

　　Holmes went to the door, turned the revolving lock, and methodically checked the lock. Then he took out the key that had been inserted in the back of the door and examined it as well. He then examined the bed, carpet, chair, mantelpiece, the body of the deceased and the rope. Finally he expressed his satisfaction, and with the help of me and the sheriff, cut the rope and laid the poor man on the ground, covering it with a sheet.

　　"What's going on with this rope?" he asked.

　　"It was cut from above," said Dr. Trevillian, dragging a large roll of rope from under the bed, "and he was so afraid of fire that he always kept this thing by his side so that he could escape from the window when the stairs burned." ”

　　"This thing has saved the murderers a lot of trouble," said Holmes thoughtfully, "yes, the facts of the case are very clear, and I would be surprised if by the afternoon I could not tell you the reason for the crime." I'm going to take this picture of Brexington on the mantelpiece, which will help my investigation. ”

　　"But you didn't tell us anything!" The doctor cried.

　　"Ah, the circumstances of the events before and after are clear," said Holmes, "there are three men in here: the young man, the old man, and the third party, and I have no clue as to the identity of the third person." The first two men, needless to say, were the men who pretended to be Russian nobles and their sons, so we can describe their situation in great detail. They were put in by an accomplice in the house. If I could give you a word of advice, Sheriff, then the little listener should be arrested. As far as I know, he's only recently been on an errand at your clinic, doctor. ”

　　"This little fellow has been found," said Trevillian, "and the maid and the cook have just looked for him." ”

　　Holmes shrugged.

　　"His role in this play is not unimportant," said Holmes, "and the three men are tiptoeing upstairs, the old man walking in front, the young man in the middle, the man of unknown origin walking in the back..."

　　"My dear Holmes!" I shouted suddenly.

　　"Ah, as for the stack of footprints on the footprints, there is no doubt about it. I could make out their footprints from last night. Later, they went upstairs and came to the door of Brexington, where they found it locked. However, he used a wire to turn the key inside. You don't even need a magnifying glass, you can tell from the scratches on the groove of this key mortise that they are working from somewhere.

　　"When they entered the room, the first step must have been to plug Mr. Brightington's mouth. He may have fallen asleep, or he may have been paralyzed by fright and unable to shout. The walls here are thick, and it is conceivable that even if he had the possibility of shouting once or twice, his cries for help would have been heard by no one.

　　"Apparently, after they had placed him properly, they had a discussion, and this negotiation could have the character of prosecution. It must have been going on for quite some time. Because it was during this time that they smoked these cigars. The old man sat in that wicker chair, and he smoked with a cigar mouthpiece. The young man sat in the distance, and he slammed the soot on the opposite side of the wardrobe. The third man paced around the room. I suppose That's when Brexington was sitting upright on the bed, but I wasn't absolutely sure of that.

　　"Well, finally, they'll go grab Brightington and hang him up. This was something they had arranged long ago, because I believe they had brought with them some sort of pulley to use as a gallows. I think the screwdriver and those screws were for the winch pulley. However, they saw the hook, which naturally saved them a lot of trouble. When they were done, they fled. Their accomplices followed and locked the door. ”

　　We all listened with great interest to Holmes's general account of last night's case, which he deduced with the slightest sign, and even when he gave us a little idea of the situation, we could hardly keep up with his train of thought. Afterward, the sheriff hurried to find the little listener, and Holmes and I returned to Baker Street for breakfast.

　　"I'll be back at three o'clock," said Holmes after we had eaten, "and the sheriff and the doctor are coming here to see me at that time, and I hope to use this time to find out some of the little problems in this case that are not yet clear." ”

　　Our guest arrived at the appointed time, but my friend didn't show up until 3:30. However, as soon as he entered the door, I could tell from his expression that everything was going very well.

　　"Any news?" Sheriff. ”

　　"We've caught that servant, sir."

　　"Great, I've found those guys too."

　　"You've found them!" The three of us shouted together.

　　"Yes, at least I've figured out their bottom line. Sure enough, the so-called Brighton and his enemies were well known in the Police Department. The names of the three men were Bidel, Hayward and Moffat. ”

　　"It was the guy who robbed the Worthington Bank," the sheriff said.

　　"It is they," said Holmes.

　　"Well, Brexington must be Sutton."

　　"Not bad at all," said Holmes.

　　"Well, that's clear." The sheriff said.

　　But Trevilian and I looked at each other and felt confused.

　　"You must remember the Great Bank robbery of worthington." Holmes said, "There were five men in the case—these four men, and the fifth man named Cartwright—the banker Tobin, who was murdered, and the thieves escaped with seven thousand pounds. The case took place in 1875. All five of them were arrested, but there was insufficient evidence to settle the case. The worst of the robbers, Brexington, also known as Sutton, denounced them. As a result of his testimony, Cartwright was sentenced to hanging, and the other three were each sentenced to fifteen years in prison. A few days ago they were released years early, as you can imagine, they were determined to find their betrayers and avenge their dead accomplices. They tried to find him twice, but they didn't succeed, and you see, the third time they succeeded. Dr. Trevillion, is there anything else that needs to be explained? ”

　　"I think you've made everything very clear," said the doctor, "and there is no doubt that the reason he was so upset that day was because he saw in the newspaper that the release of those people." ”

　　"It's totally good, he said that the theft was purely a smokescreen."

　　"But why didn't he tell you about it?"

　　"Ah, my dear sir, he knows that his old fellows are very vindictive, and he conceals his identity from everyone as much as possible. His secret was shameful, and he couldn't have leaked it himself. But he, though despicable, remains under the protection of English law, sheriff, and I have no doubt that you can see that, though the shield has not played a protective role, the sword of justice will avenge him. ”

　　That's about the hospitalized patient and the Brooke Street doctor. Since that night, the police have not seen the shadows of the three murderers. Scotland Yard speculates that they escaped on the unfortunate ship Nora Cleyna. The ship and its entire crew were killed years ago on the Portuguese coast, dozens of miles north of Porto. The indictment against the little listener could not be established due to insufficient evidence, and the case, known as the Brook Street Suspect, has not been reported in detail by the newspapers so far.

　　The last case

　　It is with great sadness that I write this last case, and iscribe the outstanding genius of my friend Sherlock Holmes. From the first time the "study of the blood letters" brought us together, to his involvement in the naval agreement case— who, because of his involvement, no doubt, prevented a serious international dispute — although it was written incoherently and deeply felt that it was extremely inadequate, I always did my best to record the strange experiences I shared with him. I had planned to write only about the Naval Agreement and never mention the case that caused me a lifetime of sorrow.

　　Two years have passed, but this sorrow has not diminished in the slightest. Recently, however, Colonel James Moriarty published several letters defending his late brother. I have no choice but to make the truth completely and truthfully known. I am the only one who knows the whole truth, and I am sure that the time has come and there is no use in keeping it secret.

　　As far as I know, there have been only three reports in the newspapers on this matter: once in the Geneva Magazine of May 6, 1891; once in the Reuters telegram of 7 May 1891 in the British press; and the last one is the letter i mentioned above, which was published recently. Both the first and second reports were overly brief, while the last one, as I would like to point out, was a complete distortion of the facts. It is my duty to make public for the first time the truth about what happened between Professor Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes.

　　The reader may recall that since I got married and practiced medicine after marriage, the extremely intimate relationship between Holmes and I has become estranged to some extent.

　　He still came to me from time to time when he needed an assistant during the investigation, but it became less and less common. I found that in 1890 I had recorded only three cases. That winter and in the early spring of 1891, I read in the newspaper that Holmes had been hired by the French government to undertake a very important case. I received two letters from Holmes, one from Narbon and one from Nimes, and I suspected that he must have stayed in France for a long time. However, very surprisingly, on the evening of April 24, 1891, I saw him walk into my office. What particularly surprised me was that he looked paler and thinner than usual.

　　"Yes, I've been exhausting myself too lately," he said, seeing my expression, and without waiting for me to ask, preemptively said, "I've been a little nervous lately." You're not against me closing your shutters, are you?" ”

　　The lamp I used to read was on the table, and this was the only light in the room. Holmes walked along the wall, closed the two shutters, and tightened the latches.

　　"Are you afraid of something?" I asked.

　　"Yes, I'm afraid."

　　"What are you afraid of?"

　　"Afraid of air gun attacks."

　　"My dear Holmes, what do you mean by that?"

　　"I think you know me very well, Watson, and you know that I'm not a timid person. However, if you are in danger and do not admit that there is danger, you are brave. Can you give me a match? Holmes smoked a cigarette, as if he liked the calming effects of cigarettes.

　　"I'm sorry to bother you so late," said Holmes, "and I must also ask you to make an exception and allow me to now climb out of the back wall of your garden and leave your dwelling." ”

　　"But what's going on here?" I asked.

　　He put his hand out, and I saw by the light that two of his knuckles were injured and bleeding.

　　"You see, it's not out of thin air," laughed Holmes, "it's real, it can even break a man's hand." Is Madame Zun at home? ”

　　"She went out to visit friends."

　　"Really! Are you left alone? ”

　　"Yes."

　　"Then I will propose to you that you join me on a week-long trip to the European continent."

　　"To where?"

　　"Ah, it's okay anywhere, I don't care."

　　It was all very strange that Holmes never liked to spend any vacation aimlessly, and his pale, haggard countenance made me see that his nerves had been extremely tense. Holmes saw this doubt in my eyes, and crossed his fingers together, elbowed his knees, and gave an explanation.

　　"You've probably never heard of a Professor Moriarty, have you?" he said.

　　"Never."

　　"Ah, there are really talents and miracles in the world!" Holmes said loudly, "This man's power is all over London, but no one has heard of him." This brought his criminal record to the pinnacle. I tell you solemnly, Watson, if I can defeat him, if I can get rid of him as a scum for society, then I will feel that my own career has reached its peak, and then I will be ready to live a quieter life. One thing please don't tell outsiders is that the few cases I have recently worked on behalf of the Scandinavian royal family and the French Republic have created good conditions for me to live a quiet life that I love and to concentrate on my chemical research. But, Watson, if I think of someone like Professor Moriarty still running rampant in the streets of London, I cannot rest assured, I cannot sit still in an easy chair and do nothing. ”

　　"So, what bad things did he do?"

　　"His resume is not equal. He came from a good family, had an excellent education, and had an extraordinary talent for mathematics. He wrote a treatise on the binomial theorem at the age of twenty-one, which was once all the rage in Europe. He took the opportunity to obtain the position of professor of mathematics in some of our small colleges, and, obviously, his future was also brilliant. But this man has inherited the extremely fierce nature of his previous life. The blood of the crime that ran through his blood not only did not lessen, but because of his extraordinary intelligence, it intensified and was infinitely dangerous. Some of his bad deeds were also circulated in the university district, and he was finally forced to resign as a professor and came to London to become a military instructor. People only know about him, but what I'm going to tell you now is what I found myself.

　　"You know, Watson, that no one knows better than I do of the high-level criminal activities in London. Over the years, I have been aware that there is a force behind those criminals, and there is a sinister force that always becomes an obstacle to the law and shelters those who do evil. The variety of cases I have handled —forgeries, robberies, homicides —I have felt the presence of this force time and time again, and I have used reasoning to discover the activities of this force in some unsolved criminal cases, although I have not personally been invited to undertake these cases. Over the years, I have tried my best to uncover the darkness that has obscured this force, and this moment has finally arrived. I grabbed the clues, followed them, and after a thousand twists and turns, I found the math celebrity and retired professor Moriarty.

　　"He's the Napoleon of the crime world, Watson. He organized half of the crimes in the City of London, and he organized almost all unsolved crimes. He was a genius, a philosopher, an esoteric thinker. He had a first-rate human mind. He was like a spider crouching in the center of a web, unmoving, but the web was inextricably linked, and he knew every tremor in it. He rarely did it himself, but only gave advice. He was a henchman and well organized. We say that if someone wants to commit a crime, steal documents, rob a family, assassinate a person, just pass on a word to the professor, this criminal activity will be carefully organized and put into practice. Even if he was arrested, his henchmen had money to bail him out or defend him. But the main men who commanded these henchmen were never arrested—not even suspected. That's what I deduced about their organization, Watson, and I've been doing my best to expose and crack this organization.

　　"But the precautions around this professor were very tight and cunning, and despite my best efforts, I could not obtain evidence of the crime that could take him to court. You know my abilities, my dear Watson, but after three months of hard work, I have to admit that at least I have met an opponent whose intellect is equal to mine. I admired his skill more than I hated his crimes. But he finally made a mistake, a very small and tiny flaw, but he could not make it when I kept such a close eye on him. Having seized the opportunity, I started from this point, and now I have laid a legal net around him, and everything is ready, just waiting for the net to be closed. Within three days— that is, the following Monday — the time was ripe for the professor and his main henchmen to all fall into the hands of the police. That will be the largest trial of criminals in the history of the century, with more than forty outstanding cases of doubt and the sentence of hanging of them all. But if we act a little poorly, then you know, they can slip away from us even at the last minute.

　　"Alas, if this can be done so that Professor Moriarty is unaware, all will be well. But Moriarty was so scheming that he knew every step I made to set up a net around him. Again and again he tried to break through the net and escape, and I stopped him again and again. I tell you, my friend, if you record the details of my secret struggle with him, it will certainly be recorded in the annals of detective history with bright guns and dark arrows in a glorious page. I've never reached such heights, and I've never been pushed so tightly by an opponent. He did it very effectively, and I just overtook him. I have completed the final deployment this morning and it will take only three days to complete it. I was sitting indoors thinking about it all when the door suddenly opened and Professor Moriarty stood in front of me.

　　"My nerves are still quite strong, Watson, but I must confess that I was taken aback when I saw the man who had made me angry standing at the threshold. I am very familiar with his appearance. He was particularly tall, slender, with a bulging forehead, deeply sunken eyes, a shaved face, a pale face, a bit like an ascetic, maintaining a certain professorial demeanor. His shoulders were a little awkward due to too much study, and his face stretched forward and swayed gently from side to side, looking strange and despicable. He squinted his eyes and looked at me curiously.

　　"'Your forehead is not as developed as I might have imagined, sir,' he said at last, 'it is a dangerous habit to fiddle with a loaded pistol in the pocket of his pajamas.'"

　　"In fact, as soon as he came in, I immediately realized the enormous personal danger I was facing. Because for him, the only way out of the predicament is to kill me. So I hurriedly grabbed the pistol from the drawer and slipped it into my pocket, and pointed it at him through my clothes. As soon as he mentioned this, I took out my pistol, opened the nose and placed it on the table. He was still smiling and squinting, but there was an expression in his eyes that made me secretly glad that I had this pistol in my hand.

　　"'You obviously don't know me,'" he said.

　　"'On the contrary,' I replied, 'I think I know you very well. Have a seat. If there's anything to say, I can give you five minutes. ’

　　"'Whatever I have to say, you already know.'" he said.

　　"'Well, you already know my answer,'" I replied.

　　"'Won't you budge?'

　　"'Never give in.'"

　　He jerked his hand into his pocket, and I picked up the pistol on the table. But he just pulled out a memo with scrawled dates on it.

　　"'On the fourth of January you hindered me,' he said, 'on the twenty-third day you got in my way again; in the middle of February you caused me great trouble; at the end of March you completely destroyed my plans.' At the end of April, I found that I was certainly in danger of losing my freedom because of your constant persecution. Things are already unbearable. ’

　　"'Do you have any plans?' I asked.

　　"'You must stop, Mr. Holmes!' He shook his head from side to side and said, 'You know, you really have to stop.' ’

　　"'Say it again after Monday,'" I said.

　　"'Sigh, sigh!' He said, 'I am sure that a man as wise as you would understand that there can only be one end to this kind of thing.' That's where you have to stop. You've done it to the extreme, and that's all we have left. To see you stir this up like this is simply an intellectual pleasure for me. I tell you sincerely that it would be sad if I was forced to take any extreme measures. Laugh, sir, but I promise you, it's really sad. ’

　　"'It's inevitable to do this dangerous thing,'" I said.

　　"'It's not danger,' he said, 'it's inevitable destruction.'" What you are obstructing is not just one person, but a powerful organization. Despite your intelligence, you still can't recognize the power of this organization. You must stand on the ground, Mr. Holmes, or you will be trampled to death. ’

　　"'I'm afraid,' I stood up and said, 'because we're talking so hard, I'm going to delay the important things elsewhere waiting for me.'"

　　He also stood up, looked at me silently, and shook his head sadly.

　　"'Good, good,' he said at last, 'it seems a pity, but I've tried my best.'" I'm clear about every step of your trick. There's nothing you can do before Monday. It's a duel between you and me, Mr. Holmes. You want to put me in the dock, and I tell you, I will never stand in the dock. You want to beat me, and I tell you, you will never beat me. If you are clever enough to destroy me, rest assured, you will die with me. ’

　　"'You have passed the prize, Monsieur Moriarty,' I said, 'I will thank you, and I tell you that if I can guarantee your destruction, then, for the benefit of society, even if I die with you,'

　　"'I promised to die with you, but it wasn't you who destroyed me.'" He roared and turned and walked out of the house.

　　"That's the peculiar conversation I had with Professor Moriarty. I confess that it has had an unpleasant effect on my heart. His words were so quiet and clear that it was believed that he had his intentions, and that a simple villain could not do that. Of course, you say, 'Why don't you go to the police to guard against him?' Because I was sure he would call his henchmen to harm me." I have the best evidence that this will be the case. ”

　　"Have you already been attacked?"

　　"My dear Watson, Professor Moriarty is a man who has not lost his time. I was on my way to Oxford Street at noon that day to take care of some business, and just as I was walking around the corner from Bentinck Street to Welbeck Street intersection, a two-horse van slammed into me like lightning. I hurriedly jumped onto the sidewalk and survived in a flash.

　　In an instant, the van sped away through Maliliburn Lane. After this accident, I only walked on the sidewalk, Watson, but when I walked to Vail Street, suddenly a brick fell from the roof of a house and shattered at my feet. I brought in the police and inspected the place. The roof was piled with stone slabs and bricks for repairing houses, and they told me that the wind had blown a brick down. Of course, I knew it in my heart, but I couldn't prove that someone had harmed me. After that, I ordered a carriage and went to my brother's house on Belmer Street, where I spent the day. When I came to you just now, I was attacked by thugs with sticks on the road. I knocked him down and the police took him into custody.

　　I scratched my knuckles on the man's front teeth. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is impossible to find out the relationship between the gentleman in custody and the retired mathematics professor. I'm sure the professor was now standing in front of a blackboard ten miles away answering questions. You will not be surprised that you heard this, Watson, and first closed the shutters when I came to your house, and then asked you to allow me to leave the house through your back wall and not the front door, so as not to attract attention. ”

　　I have always admired my friend's fearless spirit. The series of events that took place today are almost enough to be terrifying all day. Now he sat there calmly recounting the gruesome horrors of the day, which made me admire him even more.

　　"Did you spend the night here?" I asked.

　　"No, my friend, my overnight stay here would be dangerous for you. I've made plans and everything will go as it should be. As far as arrests are concerned, things have progressed to the point where they can arrest outlaws without my help, but I will be required to testify in court in the future. So, in the days leading up to the arrest, I was obviously thinking it would be better to get out of here so that the police could move freely. If you can travel with me to the mainland, then I am very happy. ”

　　"Lately the medical staff has been idle," I said, "and I have a neighbor who is willing to help, and I am glad to go with you." ”

　　"Is it okay to leave tomorrow morning?"

　　"If you need to, of course you can."

　　"Ah, well, very much needed. Well, these are the instructions for you. I ask you, my dear Watson, to do so to the letter, for now we are engaged in a mortal duel against the most cunning thugs and the most powerful criminal groups in Europe. Well, attention! Whatever kind of luggage you plan to bring, don't write where you're going, and send a reliable person to Victoria Station tonight. Tomorrow morning you will hire a two-wheeled carriage, but tell your servants not to hire the first and second carriages that take the initiative to solicit business. You jump into the two-wheeled carriage and give it to the coachman with an address that says drive to the end of the Strand on Lauser Street and tell him not to drop the note. You have to pay the fare in advance, and as soon as your car stops, you will cross the street and reach the other end of the street at nine o'clock. You'll see a four-wheeled sedan waiting on the street, with a dark black cloak and a red edge on the collar, and you'll be able to get on the bus and be on the Victoria Station in time to catch the express train to the European continent. ”

　　"Where am I meeting you?"

　　"At the station. We booked our seats in the second first class car from front to back. ”

　　"So, the carriage is where we meet?"

　　I stayed with Holmes, but he insisted on refusing. Apparently, he thought he was going to get in trouble by living here, which was why he had to leave. He hastily talked about our plans for tomorrow, got up and walked with me into the garden, climbed over the wall to Mortimer Street, and immediately whistled, summoned a carriage, and I heard him drive away.

　　The next morning, I acted to the letter according to Holmes's instructions and took careful measures in case the hired carriage was a trap specially set for us.

　　I ate breakfast, selected a two-wheeled carriage, and headed immediately to Lauser Street. I sped across the street. An unusually burly coachman, cloaked in a black cloak, was waiting there in a four-wheeled carriage, and as soon as I stepped onto the carriage, he immediately whipped his horse toward Victoria Station, and as soon as I got out of the car, he turned around and sped away.

　　So far, everything has gone on impressively. My luggage was already in the car, and I effortlessly found the carriage designated by Sherlock Holmes, because only one carriage was marked with the word "reservation". Now there was only one thing that worried me, and that was that Holmes did not come. I looked at the clock at the station and left the train for only seven minutes. I searched for my friend's slender body in a crowd of travelers and farewells, but there was no trace of it. I met an elderly Italian priest, speaking poor English, trying to make the porter understand that his luggage was to be checked in to Paris. At this time I stepped forward to help, and there was a delay of a few minutes. Then he looked around again. I went back to the carriage and found that the porter, regardless of whether the ticket number was right or not, had brought the elderly Italian friend to be my companion. Although I explained to him not to encroach on other people's seats, it was useless, because I spoke Italian worse than he spoke English, so I had no choice but to shrug my shoulders helplessly and continue to look out anxiously, looking for my friend. I thought that he might have been attacked last night, so he didn't come today, and I couldn't help but shudder.

　　All the doors of the train were closed, the whistle sounded, and at this time...

　　"My dear Watson," came a voice, "you have not condescended to say good morning to me." ”

　　I was taken aback, and when I looked back, the old priest had turned his face to me. His wrinkled face disappeared in an instant, his nose became higher, his lower lip did not protrude, his mouth did not collapse, his sluggish eyes became bright and bright, and his curved body stretched out.

　　Then the whole body withered again, and Holmes disappeared as he had come.

　　"Oh my God!" I shouted, "You're scaring me to death!" ”

　　"Close guard is still necessary," whispered Holmes, "and I have reason to think they are chasing us." Ah, that's Professor Moriarty himself. ”

　　Holmes said that by the time the train had started. I glanced back and saw a tall man burst out of the crowd, waving his hand as if he wanted to stop the train. But it was too late because our train was speeding up and was out of the station in an instant.

　　"Because of the precautions, you see we have escaped very sharply," said Holmes with a smile, standing up, taking off the black priest's coat and hat used in the masquerade and putting it into the handbag.

　　"Have you read today's morning newspaper, Watson?"

　　"So, don't you know about Baker Street?"

　　"Baker Street?"

　　"They set our house on fire last night. However, no significant damage was caused. ”

　　"Oh my Goodness! Holmes, this cannot be tolerated! ”

　　"Since the arrest of the man who attacked me with a stick, they have not been able to find my whereabouts. Otherwise they wouldn't think I'd be home. However, they apparently monitored you in advance, which is why Moriarty came to Victoria Station. Didn't you leave a little loophole when you came? ”

　　"I did exactly what you told me to do."

　　"Did you find the two-wheeled carriage?"

　　"Yes, it's waiting there."

　　"Do you know the coachman?"

　　"I don't know."

　　"That's my brother Mycroft. When doing something like this, it is better not to rely on the people hired. But we must now make a plan for dealing with Moriarty. ”

　　"Since this is an express train and the ship is intermodal with this train, I think we have successfully thrown him off."

　　"My dear Watson, I have said to you that this man's intelligence is comparable to mine, and you obviously do not fully understand the meaning of this. If I were the stalker, you would never think that I would be overwhelmed by such a small obstacle. So, how can you underestimate him like this? ”

　　"What can he do?"

　　"What I can do, he can do."

　　"So, what are you going to do?"

　　"Order a car."

　　"But it must be too late."

　　"It's not too late at all. The train had to stop at Canterbury Station and usually had a delay of at least a quarter of an hour before boarding. He would catch us on the dock. ”

　　"Then others still think we are criminals." Why don't we arrest him first when he comes? ”

　　"That would have wasted three months of my efforts." Although we can catch the big fish, the small fish will rampage and escape from the net. But by Monday we can catch them all. No, he must not be arrested. ”

　　"So what to do?"

　　"We got off at Canterbury Station."

　　"And then what?"

　　"Ah, then we made a trip across the country, to New Haven, then to Dieppe. Moriarty must have gone to Paris, as I would have done in this case, looked for our checked luggage, and waited at the station for two days. At the same time, we buy two felt sleeping bags to encourage the sleeping bag merchants of the countries along the way, and then take a leisurely trip through Luxembourg and Basel to Switzerland. ”

　　So, we got off at Canterbury Station, but when we got out of the car, we had to wait an hour for the bus to arrive in New Haven.

　　The luggage cart carrying me in full luggage sped away, and I was still looking at it in frustration, when Holmes tugged at my sleeve and pointed into the distance.

　　"You see, it's coming." he said.

　　In the distance, a wisp of black smoke rose from the Kent Forest, and a minute later, the locomotive could be seen leading the train across the bend and speeding toward the station. We had just been hiding behind a pile of luggage when the train rumbled past with a whistle and a rush of hot air came at us.

　　"He is gone," said Holmes as we saw the train speeding over a few hills, "you see, our friend's intellect is limited after all. If he could deduce what I had inferred and act accordingly, it would be very superb. ”

　　"What if he catches up with us?"

　　"There is no doubt that he must kill me." However, this is a fight with uncertain victory or defeat. The question now is whether we should have lunch early here or rush to New Haven to find a restaurant; but there is a danger of going hungry when we get to New Haven. ”

　　That night we arrived in Brussels, where we stayed for two days and arrived in Strasbourg on the third day. On Monday morning Holmes sent a telegram to Scotland Yard, and that evening we returned to the hotel to see that the call back had arrived. Holmes took the telegram apart, then threw it into the furnace with a scolding cry.

　　"I should have anticipated this a long time ago!" Holmes snorted and said, "He ran. ”

　　"Moriarty?" Scotland Yard broke the whole group, but instead of catching Moriarty, he slipped away. Since I left England, of course, no one can deal with him, but I think Scotland has won the game. I think you'd better go back to England, Watson. ”

　　"Because now it's dangerous for you and me to be with me." The man's lair had been served, and if he went back to London, he would be finished. If I knew his character well, he would be bent on seeking revenge on me. In that brief conversation with me, he had made it very clear. I'm sure he can do what he says. So I have to persuade you to go back to medicine. ”

　　Because I had assisted him in handling cases many times and was an old friend of his, it was difficult to agree with his suggestion. We sat in the Strasbourg restaurant arguing about the subject for half an hour, but that night decided to continue the trip and we arrived safely in Geneva.

　　We roamed all the way through the Loone Gorge for a fascinating week, then, from Leuk, to Jimmy Pass, where the snow was still thick, and finally, via Interlaken, to Meiringen. It was a delightful trip, the spring below the mountain was bright and green, and the mountain was snowy and still cold in winter. But it was clear to me that Holmes had not for a moment forgotten the shadow that lay over his heart. Whether in a pristine Alpine village or in a sparsely populated mountain pass, he gave a quick and wary look at everyone who passed by us. I could tell from this that he was convinced that wherever we went, there was a danger of being followed.

　　I remember one time we passed through Jimmy Pass and walked along the depressing boundary of Mount Dobbaney when suddenly a large rock fell from the ridge on the right, fell with a grunt, and rolled into the lake behind us. Holmes immediately ran up the ridge and stood at the top of the towering peak, looking around. Although our guide assured him that rock falls in this area were a regular phenomenon in the spring, it was to no avail. Holmes was silent, but smiled at me with the kind of look he had expected.

　　Although he was very vigilant, he was not discouraged. On the contrary, I had never seen him so energetic before. He repeatedly said that if he could get rid of the scourge of Professor Moriarty for society, he would willingly end his career as a detective.

　　"Watson, I can say that I have not wasted this life at all," said Holmes, "and if the journey of my life ends tonight, I can also regard death as a homecoming with a clear conscience." Thanks to my presence, the air in London was freshened. In more than a thousand cases I have handled, I am sure that I have never used my power in the wrong place. I do not like to study the superficial problems of our society, which are caused by our artificial social state, but prefer to study the problems posed by nature. Watson, one day, when I capture or eliminate the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe, my career as a detective will come to an end, and your memoirs will come to an end. ”

　　I am prepared to tell my story as concisely and accurately as possible.

　　I was reluctant to dwell on this matter, but my sense of responsibility would not allow me to miss any details.

　　On the third of May, we arrived in a small village in Meiringen, the Netherlands, where we stayed in the "British Inn" opened by Peter Steyler Sr. The owner was a clever man who had worked as a waiter at the Grosvenor Inn in London for three years and spoke beautiful English. On the afternoon of the fourth day, at his suggestion, the two of us set out together, intending to cross the mountains to spend the night in a small village in Rosenloy. However, he solemnly advises us not to miss the Leisingbach Waterfall [famous in Switzerland) halfway up the mountainside. --Translator's Note], you can take a slight detour to appreciate it.

　　That's a sinister place indeed. The melting snow merges into a torrent, pouring into the abyss, and the water splashes high, like the smoke that comes out of the fire of the house. The valley mouth into which the river flows has a huge crack in itself, and on both sides of the river stands a black coal-like mountain rock, which becomes narrower and narrower, and the milky white, boiling water flows into the bottomless deep ravine, and a torrent of gushing and splashing down from the opening, the continuous green waves make a thunderous roar, the thick and shaking water curtain makes a continuous sound, the water splashes upwards, and the turbulence and noise make people dizzy. We stood on the edge of the mountain staring at the waves lapping at the black rock below, listening to the rumbling sound of the abyss like a roar.

　　Halfway up the hillside, a trail is created around the waterfall to give people a panoramic view of the waterfall, but the trail is abruptly terminated, and tourists have to return the same way. We had to turn around and return, when we suddenly saw a Swiss teenager running down the path with a letter in his hand, with the seal of the hotel we had just left, written to me by the owner. The letter said that shortly after we left, a British woman had arrived, who had reached the end of tuberculosis. She spent the winter in Davos Platz and is now visiting friends in Lucerne.

　　Unexpectedly, she suddenly coughed up blood, and within a few hours, her life was in danger, and if she could be treated by a British doctor, she would feel very happy and ask me if I could return to her. The kind shopkeeper Steyler added in his postscript that because the lady categorically refused to let the Swiss doctor treat him, he had no choice but to take on great responsibility himself, and I promised that he himself would be impressed with me.

　　Such a request cannot be ignored, and the request of a female compatriot whose life is in danger in a foreign country cannot be rejected. But to leave Sherlock Holmes made me hesitate. In the end, however, we both agreed that on my return to Meiringen, he would leave the young Swiss messenger with him as a guide and traveling companion. Holmes said he was going to linger by the waterfall and then slowly cross the hill to Rosenroy, where I would meet him in the evening. As I turned and walked away, I saw Holmes with his back to the rocks, his arms clasped, overlooking the rushing water. Unexpectedly, this was my eternal farewell to him in this life.

　　When I walked down the hill and turned my head to look back, the waterfall was no longer visible, but I could still see the winding and rugged path from the mountainside to the waterfall. I remember seeing a man walking up the trail at a rapid pace. Against the backdrop of the greenery behind him, I could clearly see his black figure. I noticed him, I noticed the way he walked, but because I was in a hurry, I quickly forgot about him.

　　After walking for more than an hour, I arrived at Meiringen. Old Steyler was standing in front of the hotel.

　　"Hey," I hurried over and said, "I'm sure her condition hasn't deteriorated, right?" ”

　　His face was suddenly shocked, and when I saw his eyebrows rise upwards, my heart couldn't help but become heavy.

　　"Didn't you write this letter?" I pulled the letter out of my pocket and asked, "Isn't there a sick English woman in the hotel?" ”

　　"Of course not!" He exclaimed, "But there's a hotel seal on it!"

　　Ha, this must have been written by the tall Englishman, who came here after you left. He said..."

　　But before the owner could finish speaking, he ran back along the village road in horror and ran to the path he had just walked. I came downhill for more than an hour, but this time I returned uphill, and although I ran as hard as I could, it took more than two hours to return to the Leisinbach Waterfall. Holmes's trekking poles still rested on the rock he had leaned on when we parted. But there was no sign of him, and I cried out loudly, but only the echoes of the surrounding valleys were heard in my ears.

　　Seeing the trekking poles made me shudder. He didn't go to Rosenroy, then, and when attacked by the enemy, he stayed on the three-foot-wide path with steep walls on one side and deep streams on the other. The Swiss teenager was gone. He may have taken Moriarty's bounty, leaving the two rivals to walk away. What happened then? Who's going to tell us what happened next?

　　I was so frightened by the affair that I stood there for a minute or two, trying to calm myself down, and then began to think of Holmes's method, trying to use it to find out the tragedy. Oops, it's not that hard. When we talked, before we reached the end of the trail, the trekking poles explained where we had stood. The blackish soil is constantly splashed by water and is always soft, leaving paw prints even if a bird falls on it. At my feet, there were two rows of clear footprints that led all the way to the end of the trail, with no sign of return. A few yards from the end of the path, the ground was trampled into thorns and catfish on the edge of the muddy path crack and was torn apart and fell into the muddy water. I crouched down and looked down, the water splashing around me. By the time I left the hotel, it was already getting dark, and now all I could see was the glow of water on the black cliffs and the flashes of the waves in the distance of the canyon. I cried out, but only the rush of the waterfall sounded like a human voice.

　　But fate would have it, and I finally found the last words of my friends and comrades.

　　As I said earlier, his trekking poles leaned against a protruding rock beside the trail. On top of the boulder there was something sparkling that caught my eye, and I raised my hand to take it off and found it to be the silver cigarette case that Holmes often carried with him. I picked up the cigarette case, and the paper pressed under the cigarette box in small squares flew to the ground. I opened it, and it turned out to be three pages torn from the notebook, written to me. It fully reveals the characteristics of Holmes, the instructions are still accurate, the penmanship is strong and powerful, as if it was written in a study.

　　My dear Watson (written on it): Thanks to the kindness of Monsieur Moriarty, I have written these lines of letters, and he is waiting for a final discussion of the problems that exist between us. He has outlined to me his way out of the British police and to find out where we are. This confirms more certainly the high marks I have of his talents. I am glad at the thought that I can rid society of the scourge of his presence, though it may bring sorrow to my friends, especially to you, my dear Watson. However, I have already explained to you that my career has reached a critical juncture, and for me there is no more satisfying ending than such an ending. Admittedly, if I were to confess to you completely, I knew perfectly well that Meiringen's letter was a hoax, and I let you go because I was sure that a series of similar things would ensue. Tell Sheriff Patterson that the evidence he needed to convict the gang was in a file holder with the word M, which contained a blue envelope with the words "Moriarty." By the time I left England, I had disposed of the thin property and paid it to my brother Mycroft. Please greet Mrs. Watson on my behalf, my friend.

　　You loyal Sherlock Holmes

　　The rest can be made clear in a few words. After the experts conducted a site survey, there is no doubt that the two men had fought a fight, and the result in this case could only be that the two were tightly wrestled together and staggered into the crack. There is no hope of finding their bodies, and the most dangerous criminals and the most outstanding guardians of the Law of our time will be buried forever in the bottomless abyss of swirling and bubbles. No one saw the Swiss boy again, who was clearly a minion hired by Moriarty.

　　As for the gang, the public probably remembers the very complete evidence holmes collected, exposing their organization, revealing how tightly the dead Moriarty's iron fist controlled them. In the course of the proceedings, little detail has been given to their terrible chief, and the reason why I have to confess his sins now is because the vain apologists are vainly trying to commemorate Moriarty by attacking Sherlock Holmes, and I always regard Holmes as the best man I know, the wisest man.