a study in scarlet by sir arthur conan doyle part i chapter i. mr. sherlock holmes. in the year 1878 i took my degree of doctorof medicine of the university of london, and proceeded to netley to go through the courseprescribed for surgeons in the army. having completed my studies there, i was duly attachedto the fifth northumberland fusiliers as assistant surgeon. the regiment was stationed in indiaat the time, and before i could join it, the second afghan war had broken out. on landingat bombay, i learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep inthe enemy's country. i followed, however,
with many other officers who were in the samesituation as myself, and succeeded in reaching candahar in safety, where i found my regiment,and at once entered upon my new duties. the campaign brought honours and promotionto many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. i was removed from my brigadeand attached to the berkshires, with whom i served at the fatal battle of maiwand. therei was struck on the shoulder by a jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavianartery. i should have fallen into the hands of the murderous ghazis had it not been forthe devotion and courage shown by murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse,and succeeded in bringing me safely to the british lines.
worn with pain, and weak from the prolongedhardships which i had undergone, i was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, tothe base hospital at peshawar. here i rallied, and had already improved so far as to be ableto walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when i was struckdown by enteric fever, that curse of our indian possessions. for months my life was despairedof, and when at last i came to myself and became convalescent, i was so weak and emaciatedthat a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to england.i was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship "orontes," and landed a month later on portsmouthjetty, with my health irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal governmentto spend the next nine months in attempting
to improve it. i had neither kith nor kin in england, andwas therefore as free as air—or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpencea day will permit a man to be. under such circumstances, i naturally gravitated to london,that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the empire are irresistiblydrained. there i stayed for some time at a private hotel in the strand, leading a comfortless,meaningless existence, and spending such money as i had, considerably more freely than iought. so alarming did the state of my finances become, that i soon realized that i must eitherleave the metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that i must make a completealteration in my style of living. choosing
the latter alternative, i began by makingup my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious andless expensive domicile. on the very day that i had come to this conclusion,i was standing at the criterion bar, when some one tapped me on the shoulder, and turninground i recognized young stamford, who had been a dresser under me at barts. the sightof a friendly face in the great wilderness of london is a pleasant thing indeed to alonely man. in old days stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now ihailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me.in the exuberance of my joy, i asked him to lunch with me at the holborn, and we startedoff together in a hansom.
"whatever have you been doing with yourself,watson?" he asked in undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded london streets."you are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut." i gave him a short sketch of my adventures,and had hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our destination. "poor devil!" he said, commiseratingly, afterhe had listened to my misfortunes. "what are you up to now?" "looking for lodgings." 3 i answered. "tryingto solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price."
"that's a strange thing," remarked my companion;"you are the second man to-day that has used that expression to me." "and who was the first?" i asked. "a fellow who is working at the chemical laboratoryup at the hospital. he was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someoneto go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much forhis purse." "by jove!" i cried, "if he really wants someoneto share the rooms and the expense, i am the very man for him. i should prefer having apartner to being alone." young stamford looked rather strangely atme over his wine-glass. "you don't know sherlock
holmes yet," he said; "perhaps you would notcare for him as a constant companion." "why, what is there against him?" "oh, i didn't say there was anything againsthim. he is a little queer in his ideas—an enthusiast in some branches of science. asfar as i know he is a decent fellow enough." "a medical student, i suppose?" said i. "no—i have no idea what he intends to goin for. i believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as faras i know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. his studies are very desultoryand eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the way knowledge which would astonishhis professors."
"did you never ask him what he was going infor?" i asked. "no; he is not a man that it is easy to drawout, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy seizes him." "i should like to meet him," i said. "if iam to lodge with anyone, i should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. i am notstrong enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. i had enough of both in afghanistan to lastme for the remainder of my natural existence. how could i meet this friend of yours?" "he is sure to be at the laboratory," returnedmy companion. "he either avoids the place for weeks, or else he works there from morningto night. if you like, we shall drive round
together after luncheon." "certainly," i answered, and the conversationdrifted away into other channels. as we made our way to the hospital after leavingthe holborn, stamford gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom i proposed to takeas a fellow-lodger. "you mustn't blame me if you don't get onwith him," he said; "i know nothing more of him than i have learned from meeting him occasionallyin the laboratory. you proposed this arrangement, so you must not hold me responsible." "if we don't get on it will be easy to partcompany," i answered. "it seems to me, stamford," i added, looking hard at my companion, "thatyou have some reason for washing your hands
of the matter. is this fellow's temper soformidable, or what is it? don't be mealy-mouthed about it." "it is not easy to express the inexpressible,"he answered with a laugh. "holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes—it approachesto cold-bloodedness. i could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest vegetablealkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in orderto have an accurate idea of the effects. to do him justice, i think that he would takeit himself with the same readiness. he appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge." "very right too."
"yes, but it may be pushed to excess. whenit comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking rathera bizarre shape." "beating the subjects!" "yes, to verify how far bruises may be producedafter death. i saw him at it with my own eyes." "and yet you say he is not a medical student?" "no. heaven knows what the objects of hisstudies are. but here we are, and you must form your own impressions about him." as hespoke, we turned down a narrow lane and passed through a small side-door, which opened intoa wing of the great hospital. it was familiar ground to me, and i needed no guiding as weascended the bleak stone staircase and made
our way down the long corridor with its vistaof whitewashed wall and dun-coloured doors. near the further end a low arched passagebranched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory. this was a lofty chamber, lined and litteredwith countless bottles. broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled withretorts, test-tubes, and little bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering flames. there wasonly one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work.at the sound of our steps he glanced round and sprang to his feet with a cry of pleasure."i've found it! i've found it," he shouted to my companion, running towards us with atest-tube in his hand. "i have found a re-agent
which is precipitated by hoemoglobin, 4 andby nothing else." had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not have shoneupon his features. "dr. watson, mr. sherlock holmes," said stamford,introducing us. "how are you?" he said cordially, grippingmy hand with a strength for which i should hardly have given him credit. "you have beenin afghanistan, i perceive." "how on earth did you know that?" i askedin astonishment. "never mind," said he, chuckling to himself."the question now is about hoemoglobin. no doubt you see the significance of this discoveryof mine?" "it is interesting, chemically, no doubt,"i answered, "but practically——"
"why, man, it is the most practical medico-legaldiscovery for years. don't you see that it gives us an infallible test for blood stains.come over here now!" he seized me by the coat-sleeve in his eagerness, and drew me over to thetable at which he had been working. "let us have some fresh blood," he said, digging along bodkin into his finger, and drawing off the resulting drop of blood in a chemicalpipette. "now, i add this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. you perceive thatthe resulting mixture has the appearance of pure water. the proportion of blood cannotbe more than one in a million. i have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain thecharacteristic reaction." as he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals,and then added some drops of a transparent
fluid. in an instant the contents assumeda dull mahogany colour, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the glassjar. "ha! ha!" he cried, clapping his hands, andlooking as delighted as a child with a new toy. "what do you think of that?" "it seems to be a very delicate test," i remarked. "beautiful! beautiful! the old guiacum testwas very clumsy and uncertain. so is the microscopic examination for blood corpuscles. the latteris valueless if the stains are a few hours old. now, this appears to act as well whetherthe blood is old or new. had this test been invented, there are hundreds of men now walkingthe earth who would long ago have paid the
penalty of their crimes." "indeed!" i murmured. "criminal cases are continually hinging uponthat one point. a man is suspected of a crime months perhaps after it has been committed.his linen or clothes are examined, and brownish stains discovered upon them. are they bloodstains, or mud stains, or rust stains, or fruit stains, or what are they? that is aquestion which has puzzled many an expert, and why? because there was no reliable test.now we have the sherlock holmes' test, and there will no longer be any difficulty." his eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, andhe put his hand over his heart and bowed as
if to some applauding crowd conjured up byhis imagination. "you are to be congratulated," i remarked,considerably surprised at his enthusiasm. "there was the case of von bischoff at frankfortlast year. he would certainly have been hung had this test been in existence. then therewas mason of bradford, and the notorious muller, and lefevre of montpellier, and samson ofnew orleans. i could name a score of cases in which it would have been decisive." "you seem to be a walking calendar of crime,"said stamford with a laugh. "you might start a paper on those lines. call it the 'policenews of the past.'" "very interesting reading it might be made,too," remarked sherlock holmes, sticking a
small piece of plaster over the prick on hisfinger. "i have to be careful," he continued, turning to me with a smile, "for i dabblewith poisons a good deal." he held out his hand as he spoke, and i noticed that it wasall mottled over with similar pieces of plaster, and discoloured with strong acids. "we came here on business," said stamford,sitting down on a high three-legged stool, and pushing another one in my direction withhis foot. "my friend here wants to take diggings, and as you were complaining that you couldget no one to go halves with you, i thought that i had better bring you together." sherlock holmes seemed delighted at the ideaof sharing his rooms with me. "i have my eye
on a suite in baker street," he said, "whichwould suit us down to the ground. you don't mind the smell of strong tobacco, i hope?" "i always smoke 'ship's' myself," i answered. "that's good enough. i generally have chemicalsabout, and occasionally do experiments. would that annoy you?" "by no means." "let me see—what are my other shortcomings.i get in the dumps at times, and don't open my mouth for days on end. you must not thinki am sulky when i do that. just let me alone, and i'll soon be right. what have you to confessnow? it's just as well for two fellows to
know the worst of one another before theybegin to live together." i laughed at this cross-examination. "i keepa bull pup," i said, "and i object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and i get upat all sorts of ungodly hours, and i am extremely lazy. i have another set of vices when i'mwell, but those are the principal ones at present." "do you include violin-playing in your categoryof rows?" he asked, anxiously. "it depends on the player," i answered. "awell-played violin is a treat for the gods—a badly-played one——" "oh, that's all right," he cried, with a merrylaugh. "i think we may consider the thing
as settled—that is, if the rooms are agreeableto you." "when shall we see them?" "call for me here at noon to-morrow, and we'llgo together and settle everything," he answered. "all right—noon exactly," said i, shakinghis hand. we left him working among his chemicals, andwe walked together towards my hotel. "by the way," i asked suddenly, stopping andturning upon stamford, "how the deuce did he know that i had come from afghanistan?" my companion smiled an enigmatical smile."that's just his little peculiarity," he said. "a good many people have wanted to know howhe finds things out."
"oh! a mystery is it?" i cried, rubbing myhands. "this is very piquant. i am much obliged to you for bringing us together. 'the properstudy of mankind is man,' you know." "you must study him, then," stamford said,as he bade me good-bye. "you'll find him a knotty problem, though. i'll wager he learnsmore about you than you about him. good-bye." "good-bye," i answered, and strolled on tomy hotel, considerably interested in my new acquaintance. chapter ii. the science of deduction. we met next day as he had arranged, and inspectedthe rooms at no. 221b, 5 baker street, of which he had spoken at our meeting. they consistedof a couple of comfortable bed-rooms and a
single large airy sitting-room, cheerfullyfurnished, and illuminated by two broad windows. so desirable in every way were the apartments,and so moderate did the terms seem when divided between us, that the bargain was concludedupon the spot, and we at once entered into possession. that very evening i moved my thingsround from the hotel, and on the following morning sherlock holmes followed me with severalboxes and portmanteaus. for a day or two we were busily employed in unpacking and layingout our property to the best advantage. that done, we gradually began to settle down andto accommodate ourselves to our new surroundings. holmes was certainly not a difficult man tolive with. he was quiet in his ways, and his habits were regular. it was rare for him tobe up after ten at night, and he had invariably
breakfasted and gone out before i rose inthe morning. sometimes he spent his day at the chemical laboratory, sometimes in thedissecting-rooms, and occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take him into thelowest portions of the city. nothing could exceed his energy when the working fit wasupon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for days on end he would lieupon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morningto night. on these occasions i have noticed such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes,that i might have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperanceand cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
as the weeks went by, my interest in him andmy curiosity as to his aims in life, gradually deepened and increased. his very person andappearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. in height hewas rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller.his eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which i havealluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness anddecision. his chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination.his hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessedof extraordinary delicacy of touch, as i frequently had occasion to observe when i watched himmanipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.
the reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody,when i confess how much this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often i endeavouredto break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned himself. before pronouncingjudgment, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how little there was to engagemy attention. my health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally genial,and i had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily existence.under these circumstances, i eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion,and spent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel it. he was not studying medicine. he had himself,in reply to a question, confirmed stamford's
opinion upon that point. neither did he appearto have pursued any course of reading which might fit him for a degree in science or anyother recognized portal which would give him an entrance into the learned world. yet hiszeal for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his knowledge wasso extraordinarily ample and minute that his observations have fairly astounded me. surelyno man would work so hard or attain such precise information unless he had some definite endin view. desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning. no manburdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good reason for doing so. his ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge.of contemporary literature, philosophy and
politics he appeared to know next to nothing.upon my quoting thomas carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he might be and whathe had done. my surprise reached a climax, however, when i found incidentally that hewas ignorant of the copernican theory and of the composition of the solar system. thatany civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earthtravelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that i couldhardly realize it. "you appear to be astonished," he said, smilingat my expression of surprise. "now that i do know it i shall do my best to forget it." "to forget it!"
"you see," he explained, "i consider thata man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it withsuch furniture as you choose. a fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comesacross, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at bestis jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his handsupon it. now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic.he will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these hehas a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. it is a mistake to think thatthat little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. depend upon it therecomes a time when for every addition of knowledge
you forget something that you knew before.it is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out theuseful ones." "but the solar system!" i protested. "what the deuce is it to me?" he interruptedimpatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. if we went round the moon it would notmake a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work." i was on the point of asking him what thatwork might be, but something in his manner showed me that the question would be an unwelcomeone. i pondered over our short conversation, however, and endeavoured to draw my deductionsfrom it. he said that he would acquire no
knowledge which did not bear upon his object.therefore all the knowledge which he possessed was such as would be useful to him. i enumeratedin my own mind all the various points upon which he had shown me that he was exceptionallywell-informed. i even took a pencil and jotted them down. i could not help smiling at thedocument when i had completed it. it ran in this way— sherlock holmes—his limits. 1. knowledge of literature.—nil.2. philosophy.—nil. 3. astronomy.—nil.4. politics.—feeble. 5. botany.—variable. well up in belladonna,opium, and poisons generally.
knows nothing of practical gardening.6. geology.—practical, but limited. tells at a glance different soilsfrom each other. after walks has shown me splashes upon his trousers,and told me by their colour and consistence in what part of londonhe had received them. 7. chemistry.—profound.8. anatomy.—accurate, but unsystematic. 9. sensational literature.—immense. he appearsto know every detail of every horror perpetrated in the century.10. plays the violin well. 11. is an expert singlestick player, boxer,and swordsman. 12. has a good practical knowledge of britishlaw.
when i had got so far in my list i threw itinto the fire in despair. "if i can only find what the fellow is driving at by reconcilingall these accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all," i said tomyself, "i may as well give up the attempt at once." i see that i have alluded above to his powersupon the violin. these were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other accomplishments.that he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, i knew well, because at my request he hasplayed me some of mendelssohn's lieder, and other favourites. when left to himself, however,he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. leaning back in his arm-chairof an evening, he would close his eyes and
scrape carelessly at the fiddle which wasthrown across his knee. sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. occasionallythey were fantastic and cheerful. clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessedhim, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply the resultof a whim or fancy was more than i could determine. i might have rebelled against these exasperatingsolos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a wholeseries of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience. during the first week or so we had no callers,and i had begun to think that my companion was as friendless a man as i was myself. presently,however, i found that he had many acquaintances,
and those in the most different classes ofsociety. there was one little sallow rat-faced, dark-eyed fellow who was introduced to meas mr. lestrade, and who came three or four times in a single week. one morning a younggirl called, fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. the same afternoonbrought a grey-headed, seedy visitor, looking like a jew pedlar, who appeared to me to bemuch excited, and who was closely followed by a slip-shod elderly woman. on another occasionan old white-haired gentleman had an interview with my companion; and on another a railwayporter in his velveteen uniform. when any of these nondescript individuals put in anappearance, sherlock holmes used to beg for the use of the sitting-room, and i would retireto my bed-room. he always apologized to me
for putting me to this inconvenience. "i haveto use this room as a place of business," he said, "and these people are my clients."again i had an opportunity of asking him a point blank question, and again my delicacyprevented me from forcing another man to confide in me. i imagined at the time that he hadsome strong reason for not alluding to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by coming roundto the subject of his own accord. it was upon the 4th of march, as i have goodreason to remember, that i rose somewhat earlier than usual, and found that sherlock holmeshad not yet finished his breakfast. the landlady had become so accustomed to my late habitsthat my place had not been laid nor my coffee prepared. with the unreasonable petulanceof mankind i rang the bell and gave a curt
intimation that i was ready. then i pickedup a magazine from the table and attempted to while away the time with it, while my companionmunched silently at his toast. one of the articles had a pencil mark at the heading,and i naturally began to run my eye through it. its somewhat ambitious title was "the bookof life," and it attempted to show how much an observant man might learn by an accurateand systematic examination of all that came in his way. it struck me as being a remarkablemixture of shrewdness and of absurdity. the reasoning was close and intense, but the deductionsappeared to me to be far-fetched and exaggerated. the writer claimed by a momentary expression,a twitch of a muscle or a glance of an eye,
to fathom a man's inmost thoughts. deceit,according to him, was an impossibility in the case of one trained to observation andanalysis. his conclusions were as infallible as so many propositions of euclid. so startlingwould his results appear to the uninitiated that until they learned the processes by whichhe had arrived at them they might well consider him as a necromancer. "from a drop of water," said the writer, "alogician could infer the possibility of an atlantic or a niagara without having seenor heard of one or the other. so all life is a great chain, the nature of which is knownwhenever we are shown a single link of it. like all other arts, the science of deductionand analysis is one which can only be acquired
by long and patient study nor is life longenough to allow any mortal to attain the highest possible perfection in it. before turningto those moral and mental aspects of the matter which present the greatest difficulties, letthe enquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems. let him, on meeting a fellow-mortal,learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the man, and the trade or profession towhich he belongs. puerile as such an exercise may seem, it sharpens the faculties of observation,and teaches one where to look and what to look for. by a man's finger nails, by hiscoat-sleeve, by his boot, by his trouser knees, by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb,by his expression, by his shirt cuffs—by each of these things a man's calling is plainlyrevealed. that all united should fail to enlighten
the competent enquirer in any case is almostinconceivable." "what ineffable twaddle!" i cried, slappingthe magazine down on the table, "i never read such rubbish in my life." "what is it?" asked sherlock holmes. "why, this article," i said, pointing at itwith my egg spoon as i sat down to my breakfast. "i see that you have read it since you havemarked it. i don't deny that it is smartly written. it irritates me though. it is evidentlythe theory of some arm-chair lounger who evolves all these neat little paradoxes in the seclusionof his own study. it is not practical. i should like to see him clapped down in a third classcarriage on the underground, and asked to
give the trades of all his fellow-travellers.i would lay a thousand to one against him." "you would lose your money," sherlock holmesremarked calmly. "as for the article i wrote it myself." "you!" "yes, i have a turn both for observation andfor deduction. the theories which i have expressed there, and which appear to you to be so chimericalare really extremely practical—so practical that i depend upon them for my bread and cheese." "and how?" i asked involuntarily. "well, i have a trade of my own. i supposei am the only one in the world. i'm a consulting
detective, if you can understand what thatis. here in london we have lots of government detectives and lots of private ones. whenthese fellows are at fault they come to me, and i manage to put them on the right scent.they lay all the evidence before me, and i am generally able, by the help of my knowledgeof the history of crime, to set them straight. there is a strong family resemblance aboutmisdeeds, and if you have all the details of a thousand at your finger ends, it is oddif you can't unravel the thousand and first. lestrade is a well-known detective. he gothimself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here." "and these other people?"
"they are mostly sent on by private inquiryagencies. they are all people who are in trouble about something, and want a little enlightening.i listen to their story, they listen to my comments, and then i pocket my fee." "but do you mean to say," i said, "that withoutleaving your room you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing of, althoughthey have seen every detail for themselves?" "quite so. i have a kind of intuition thatway. now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex. then i have to bustleabout and see things with my own eyes. you see i have a lot of special knowledge whichi apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully. those rules of deductionlaid down in that article which aroused your
scorn, are invaluable to me in practical work.observation with me is second nature. you appeared to be surprised when i told you,on our first meeting, that you had come from afghanistan." "you were told, no doubt." "nothing of the sort. i knew you came fromafghanistan. from long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, thati arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. there weresuch steps, however. the train of reasoning ran, 'here is a gentleman of a medical type,but with the air of a military man. clearly an army doctor, then. he has just come fromthe tropics, for his face is dark, and that
is not the natural tint of his skin, for hiswrists are fair. he has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly.his left arm has been injured. he holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. where inthe tropics could an english army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded?clearly in afghanistan.' the whole train of thought did not occupy a second. i then remarkedthat you came from afghanistan, and you were astonished." "it is simple enough as you explain it," isaid, smiling. "you remind me of edgar allen poe's dupin. i had no idea that such individualsdid exist outside of stories." sherlock holmes rose and lit his pipe. "nodoubt you think that you are complimenting
me in comparing me to dupin," he observed."now, in my opinion, dupin was a very inferior fellow. that trick of his of breaking in onhis friends' thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour's silence is reallyvery showy and superficial. he had some analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means sucha phenomenon as poe appeared to imagine." "have you read gaboriau's works?" i asked."does lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?" sherlock holmes sniffed sardonically. "lecoqwas a miserable bungler," he said, in an angry voice; "he had only one thing to recommendhim, and that was his energy. that book made me positively ill. the question was how toidentify an unknown prisoner. i could have done it in twenty-four hours. lecoq took sixmonths or so. it might be made a text-book
for detectives to teach them what to avoid." i felt rather indignant at having two characterswhom i had admired treated in this cavalier style. i walked over to the window, and stoodlooking out into the busy street. "this fellow may be very clever," i said to myself, "buthe is certainly very conceited." "there are no crimes and no criminals in thesedays," he said, querulously. "what is the use of having brains in our profession. iknow well that i have it in me to make my name famous. no man lives or has ever livedwho has brought the same amount of study and of natural talent to the detection of crimewhich i have done. and what is the result? there is no crime to detect, or, at most,some bungling villainy with a motive so transparent
that even a scotland yard official can seethrough it." i was still annoyed at his bumptious styleof conversation. i thought it best to change the topic. "i wonder what that fellow is looking for?"i asked, pointing to a stalwart, plainly-dressed individual who was walking slowly down theother side of the street, looking anxiously at the numbers. he had a large blue envelopein his hand, and was evidently the bearer of a message. "you mean the retired sergeant of marines,"said sherlock holmes. "brag and bounce!" thought i to myself. "heknows that i cannot verify his guess."
the thought had hardly passed through my mindwhen the man whom we were watching caught sight of the number on our door, and ran rapidlyacross the roadway. we heard a loud knock, a deep voice below, and heavy steps ascendingthe stair. "for mr. sherlock holmes," he said, steppinginto the room and handing my friend the letter. here was an opportunity of taking the conceitout of him. he little thought of this when he made that random shot. "may i ask, my lad,"i said, in the blandest voice, "what your trade may be?" "commissionaire, sir," he said, gruffly. "uniformaway for repairs." "and you were?" i asked, with a slightly maliciousglance at my companion.
"a sergeant, sir, royal marine light infantry,sir. no answer? right, sir." he clicked his heels together, raised hishand in a salute, and was gone. chapter iii. the lauriston garden mystery6 i confess that i was considerably startledby this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion's theories. my respect forhis powers of analysis increased wondrously. there still remained some lurking suspicionin my mind, however, that the whole thing was a pre-arranged episode, intended to dazzleme, though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension.when i looked at him he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant,lack-lustre expression which showed mental
abstraction. "how in the world did you deduce that?" iasked. "deduce what?" said he, petulantly. "why, that he was a retired sergeant of marines." "i have no time for trifles," he answered,brusquely; then with a smile, "excuse my rudeness. you broke the thread of my thoughts; but perhapsit is as well. so you actually were not able to see that that man was a sergeant of marines?" "no, indeed." "it was easier to know it than to explainwhy i knew it. if you were asked to prove
that two and two made four, you might findsome difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. even across the street i couldsee a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fellow's hand. that smacked of thesea. he had a military carriage, however, and regulation side whiskers. there we havethe marine. he was a man with some amount of self-importance and a certain air of command.you must have observed the way in which he held his head and swung his cane. a steady,respectable, middle-aged man, too, on the face of him—all facts which led me to believethat he had been a sergeant." "wonderful!" i ejaculated. "commonplace," said holmes, though i thoughtfrom his expression that he was pleased at
my evident surprise and admiration. "i saidjust now that there were no criminals. it appears that i am wrong—look at this!" hethrew me over the note which the commissionaire had brought. 7 "why," i cried, as i cast my eye over it,"this is terrible!" "it does seem to be a little out of the common,"he remarked, calmly. "would you mind reading it to me aloud?" this is the letter which i read to him—— "my dear mr. sherlock holmes,— "there has been a bad business during thenight at 3, lauriston gardens, off the brixton
road. our man on the beat saw a light thereabout two in the morning, and as the house was an empty one, suspected that somethingwas amiss. he found the door open, and in the front room, which is bare of furniture,discovered the body of a gentleman, well dressed, and having cards in his pocket bearing thename of 'enoch j. drebber, cleveland, ohio, u.s.a.' there had been no robbery, nor isthere any evidence as to how the man met his death. there are marks of blood in the room,but there is no wound upon his person. we are at a loss as to how he came into the emptyhouse; indeed, the whole affair is a puzzler. if you can come round to the house any timebefore twelve, you will find me there. i have left everything in statu quo until i hearfrom you. if you are unable to come i shall
give you fuller details, and would esteemit a great kindness if you would favour me with your opinion. yours faithfully, "tobias gregson." "gregson is the smartest of the scotland yarders,"my friend remarked; "he and lestrade are the pick of a bad lot. they are both quick andenergetic, but conventional—shockingly so. they have their knives into one another, too.they are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties. there will be some fun over thiscase if they are both put upon the scent." i was amazed at the calm way in which he rippledon. "surely there is not a moment to be lost," i cried, "shall i go and order you a cab?"
"i'm not sure about whether i shall go. iam the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather—that is, when thefit is on me, for i can be spry enough at times." "why, it is just such a chance as you havebeen longing for." "my dear fellow, what does it matter to me.supposing i unravel the whole matter, you may be sure that gregson, lestrade, and co.will pocket all the credit. that comes of being an unofficial personage." "but he begs you to help him." "yes. he knows that i am his superior, andacknowledges it to me; but he would cut his
tongue out before he would own it to any thirdperson. however, we may as well go and have a look. i shall work it out on my own hook.i may have a laugh at them if i have nothing else. come on!" he hustled on his overcoat, and bustled aboutin a way that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the apathetic one. "get your hat," he said. "you wish me to come?" "yes, if you have nothing better to do." aminute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously for the brixton road.
it was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun-colouredveil hung over the house-tops, looking like the reflection of the mud-coloured streetsbeneath. my companion was in the best of spirits, and prattled away about cremona fiddles, andthe difference between a stradivarius and an amati. as for myself, i was silent, forthe dull weather and the melancholy business upon which we were engaged, depressed my spirits. "you don't seem to give much thought to thematter in hand," i said at last, interrupting holmes' musical disquisition. "no data yet," he answered. "it is a capitalmistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. it biases the judgment."
"you will have your data soon," i remarked,pointing with my finger; "this is the brixton road, and that is the house, if i am not verymuch mistaken." "so it is. stop, driver, stop!" we were stilla hundred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alighting, and we finished our journeyupon foot. number 3, lauriston gardens wore an ill-omenedand minatory look. it was one of four which stood back some little way from the street,two being occupied and two empty. the latter looked out with three tiers of vacant melancholywindows, which were blank and dreary, save that here and there a "to let" card had developedlike a cataract upon the bleared panes. a small garden sprinkled over with a scatterederuption of sickly plants separated each of
these houses from the street, and was traversedby a narrow pathway, yellowish in colour, and consisting apparently of a mixture ofclay and of gravel. the whole place was very sloppy from the rain which had fallen throughthe night. the garden was bounded by a three-foot brick wall with a fringe of wood rails uponthe top, and against this wall was leaning a stalwart police constable, surrounded bya small knot of loafers, who craned their necks and strained their eyes in the vainhope of catching some glimpse of the proceedings within. i had imagined that sherlock holmes wouldat once have hurried into the house and plunged into a study of the mystery. nothing appearedto be further from his intention. with an
air of nonchalance which, under the circumstances,seemed to me to border upon affectation, he lounged up and down the pavement, and gazedvacantly at the ground, the sky, the opposite houses and the line of railings. having finishedhis scrutiny, he proceeded slowly down the path, or rather down the fringe of grass whichflanked the path, keeping his eyes riveted upon the ground. twice he stopped, and oncei saw him smile, and heard him utter an exclamation of satisfaction. there were many marks offootsteps upon the wet clayey soil, but since the police had been coming and going overit, i was unable to see how my companion could hope to learn anything from it. still i hadhad such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties, that i had nodoubt that he could see a great deal which
was hidden from me. at the door of the house we were met by atall, white-faced, flaxen-haired man, with a notebook in his hand, who rushed forwardand wrung my companion's hand with effusion. "it is indeed kind of you to come," he said,"i have had everything left untouched." "except that!" my friend answered, pointingat the pathway. "if a herd of buffaloes had passed along there could not be a greatermess. no doubt, however, you had drawn your own conclusions, gregson, before you permittedthis." "i have had so much to do inside the house,"the detective said evasively. "my colleague, mr. lestrade, is here. i had relied upon himto look after this."
holmes glanced at me and raised his eyebrowssardonically. "with two such men as yourself and lestrade upon the ground, there will notbe much for a third party to find out," he said. gregson rubbed his hands in a self-satisfiedway. "i think we have done all that can be done," he answered; "it's a queer case though,and i knew your taste for such things." "you did not come here in a cab?" asked sherlockholmes. "no, sir." "nor lestrade?" "then let us go and look at the room." withwhich inconsequent remark he strode on into
the house, followed by gregson, whose featuresexpressed his astonishment. a short passage, bare planked and dusty, ledto the kitchen and offices. two doors opened out of it to the left and to the right. oneof these had obviously been closed for many weeks. the other belonged to the dining-room,which was the apartment in which the mysterious affair had occurred. holmes walked in, andi followed him with that subdued feeling at my heart which the presence of death inspires. it was a large square room, looking all thelarger from the absence of all furniture. a vulgar flaring paper adorned the walls,but it was blotched in places with mildew, and here and there great strips had becomedetached and hung down, exposing the yellow
plaster beneath. opposite the door was a showyfireplace, surmounted by a mantelpiece of imitation white marble. on one corner of thiswas stuck the stump of a red wax candle. the solitary window was so dirty that the lightwas hazy and uncertain, giving a dull grey tinge to everything, which was intensifiedby the thick layer of dust which coated the whole apartment. all these details i observed afterwards. atpresent my attention was centred upon the single grim motionless figure which lay stretchedupon the boards, with vacant sightless eyes staring up at the discoloured ceiling. itwas that of a man about forty-three or forty-four years of age, middle-sized, broad shouldered,with crisp curling black hair, and a short
stubbly beard. he was dressed in a heavy broadclothfrock coat and waistcoat, with light-coloured trousers, and immaculate collar and cuffs.a top hat, well brushed and trim, was placed upon the floor beside him. his hands wereclenched and his arms thrown abroad, while his lower limbs were interlocked as thoughhis death struggle had been a grievous one. on his rigid face there stood an expressionof horror, and as it seemed to me, of hatred, such as i have never seen upon human features.this malignant and terrible contortion, combined with the low forehead, blunt nose, and prognathousjaw gave the dead man a singularly simious and ape-like appearance, which was increasedby his writhing, unnatural posture. i have seen death in many forms, but never has itappeared to me in a more fearsome aspect than
in that dark grimy apartment, which lookedout upon one of the main arteries of suburban london. lestrade, lean and ferret-like as ever, wasstanding by the doorway, and greeted my companion and myself. "this case will make a stir, sir," he remarked."it beats anything i have seen, and i am no chicken." "there is no clue?" said gregson. "none at all," chimed in lestrade. sherlock holmes approached the body, and,kneeling down, examined it intently. "you
are sure that there is no wound?" he asked,pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all round. "positive!" cried both detectives. "then, of course, this blood belongs to asecond individual—8 presumably the murderer, if murder has been committed. it reminds meof the circumstances attendant on the death of van jansen, in utrecht, in the year '34.do you remember the case, gregson?" "read it up—you really should. there isnothing new under the sun. it has all been done before." as he spoke, his nimble fingers were flyinghere, there, and everywhere, feeling, pressing,
unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes worethe same far-away expression which i have already remarked upon. so swiftly was theexamination made, that one would hardly have guessed the minuteness with which it was conducted.finally, he sniffed the dead man's lips, and then glanced at the soles of his patent leatherboots. "he has not been moved at all?" he asked. "no more than was necessary for the purposesof our examination." "you can take him to the mortuary now," hesaid. "there is nothing more to be learned." gregson had a stretcher and four men at hand.at his call they entered the room, and the stranger was lifted and carried out. as theyraised him, a ring tinkled down and rolled
across the floor. lestrade grabbed it up andstared at it with mystified eyes. "there's been a woman here," he cried. "it'sa woman's wedding-ring." he held it out, as he spoke, upon the palmof his hand. we all gathered round him and gazed at it. there could be no doubt thatthat circlet of plain gold had once adorned the finger of a bride. "this complicates matters," said gregson."heaven knows, they were complicated enough before." "you're sure it doesn't simplify them?" observedholmes. "there's nothing to be learned by staring at it. what did you find in his pockets?"
"we have it all here," said gregson, pointingto a litter of objects upon one of the bottom steps of the stairs. "a gold watch, no. 97163,by barraud, of london. gold albert chain, very heavy and solid. gold ring, with masonicdevice. gold pin—bull-dog's head, with rubies as eyes. russian leather card-case, with cardsof enoch j. drebber of cleveland, corresponding with the e. j. d. upon the linen. no purse,but loose money to the extent of seven pounds thirteen. pocket edition of boccaccio's 'decameron,'with name of joseph stangerson upon the fly-leaf. two letters—one addressed to e. j. drebberand one to joseph stangerson." "at what address?" "american exchange, strand—to be left tillcalled for. they are both from the guion steamship
company, and refer to the sailing of theirboats from liverpool. it is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return to newyork." "have you made any inquiries as to this man,stangerson?" "i did it at once, sir," said gregson. "ihave had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the americanexchange, but he has not returned yet." "have you sent to cleveland?" "we telegraphed this morning." "how did you word your inquiries?" "we simply detailed the circumstances, andsaid that we should be glad of any information
which could help us." "you did not ask for particulars on any pointwhich appeared to you to be crucial?" "i asked about stangerson." "nothing else? is there no circumstance onwhich this whole case appears to hinge? will you not telegraph again?" "i have said all i have to say," said gregson,in an offended voice. sherlock holmes chuckled to himself, and appearedto be about to make some remark, when lestrade, who had been in the front room while we wereholding this conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a pompousand self-satisfied manner.
"mr. gregson," he said, "i have just madea discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have been overlooked had inot made a careful examination of the walls." the little man's eyes sparkled as he spoke,and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having scored a point againsthis colleague. "come here," he said, bustling back into theroom, the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal of its ghastly inmate. "now,stand there!" he struck a match on his boot and held itup against the wall. "look at that!" he said, triumphantly. i have remarked that the paper had fallenaway in parts. in this particular corner of
the room a large piece had peeled off, leavinga yellow square of coarse plastering. across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-redletters a single word— rache. "what do you think of that?" cried the detective,with the air of a showman exhibiting his show. "this was overlooked because it was in thedarkest corner of the room, and no one thought of looking there. the murderer has writtenit with his or her own blood. see this smear where it has trickled down the wall! thatdisposes of the idea of suicide anyhow. why was that corner chosen to write it on? i willtell you. see that candle on the mantelpiece. it was lit at the time, and if it was litthis corner would be the brightest instead
of the darkest portion of the wall." "and what does it mean now that you have foundit?" asked gregson in a depreciatory voice. "mean? why, it means that the writer was goingto put the female name rachel, but was disturbed before he or she had time to finish. you markmy words, when this case comes to be cleared up you will find that a woman named rachelhas something to do with it. it's all very well for you to laugh, mr. sherlock holmes.you may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is the best, when all is said anddone." "i really beg your pardon!" said my companion,who had ruffled the little man's temper by bursting into an explosion of laughter. "youcertainly have the credit of being the first
of us to find this out, and, as you say, itbears every mark of having been written by the other participant in last night's mystery.i have not had time to examine this room yet, but with your permission i shall do so now." as he spoke, he whipped a tape measure anda large round magnifying glass from his pocket. with these two implements he trotted noiselesslyabout the room, sometimes stopping, occasionally kneeling, and once lying flat upon his face.so engrossed was he with his occupation that he appeared to have forgotten our presence,for he chattered away to himself under his breath the whole time, keeping up a runningfire of exclamations, groans, whistles, and little cries suggestive of encouragement andof hope. as i watched him i was irresistibly
reminded of a pure-blooded well-trained foxhoundas it dashes backwards and forwards through the covert, whining in its eagerness, untilit comes across the lost scent. for twenty minutes or more he continued his researches,measuring with the most exact care the distance between marks which were entirely invisibleto me, and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an equally incomprehensiblemanner. in one place he gathered up very carefully a little pile of grey dust from the floor,and packed it away in an envelope. finally, he examined with his glass the word upon thewall, going over every letter of it with the most minute exactness. this done, he appearedto be satisfied, for he replaced his tape and his glass in his pocket.
"they say that genius is an infinite capacityfor taking pains," he remarked with a smile. "it's a very bad definition, but it does applyto detective work." gregson and lestrade had watched the manoeuvres9 of their amateur companion with considerable curiosity and some contempt. they evidentlyfailed to appreciate the fact, which i had begun to realize, that sherlock holmes' smallestactions were all directed towards some definite and practical end. "what do you think of it, sir?" they bothasked. "it would be robbing you of the credit ofthe case if i was to presume to help you," remarked my friend. "you are doing so wellnow that it would be a pity for anyone to
interfere." there was a world of sarcasm inhis voice as he spoke. "if you will let me know how your investigations go," he continued,"i shall be happy to give you any help i can. in the meantime i should like to speak tothe constable who found the body. can you give me his name and address?" lestrade glanced at his note-book. "john rance,"he said. "he is off duty now. you will find him at 46, audley court, kennington park gate." holmes took a note of the address. "come along, doctor," he said; "we shall goand look him up. i'll tell you one thing which may help you in the case," he continued, turningto the two detectives. "there has been murder
done, and the murderer was a man. he was morethan six feet high, was in the prime of life, had small feet for his height, wore coarse,square-toed boots and smoked a trichinopoly cigar. he came here with his victim in a four-wheeledcab, which was drawn by a horse with three old shoes and one new one on his off foreleg. in all probability the murderer had a florid face, and the finger-nails of his righthand were remarkably long. these are only a few indications, but they may assist you." lestrade and gregson glanced at each otherwith an incredulous smile. "if this man was murdered, how was it done?"asked the former. "poison," said sherlock holmes curtly, andstrode off. "one other thing, lestrade," he
added, turning round at the door: "'rache,'is the german for 'revenge;' so don't lose your time looking for miss rachel." with which parthian shot he walked away, leavingthe two rivals open-mouthed behind him. chapter iv. what john rance had to tell. it was one o'clock when we left no. 3, lauristongardens. sherlock holmes led me to the nearest telegraph office, whence he dispatched a longtelegram. he then hailed a cab, and ordered the driver to take us to the address givenus by lestrade. "there is nothing like first hand evidence,"he remarked; "as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made up upon the case, but stillwe may as well learn all that is to be learned."
"you amaze me, holmes," said i. "surely youare not as sure as you pretend to be of all those particulars which you gave." "there's no room for a mistake," he answered."the very first thing which i observed on arriving there was that a cab had made tworuts with its wheels close to the curb. now, up to last night, we have had no rain fora week, so that those wheels which left such a deep impression must have been there duringthe night. there were the marks of the horse's hoofs, too, the outline of one of which wasfar more clearly cut than that of the other three, showing that that was a new shoe. sincethe cab was there after the rain began, and was not there at any time during the morning—ihave gregson's word for that—it follows
that it must have been there during the night,and, therefore, that it brought those two individuals to the house." "that seems simple enough," said i; "but howabout the other man's height?" "why, the height of a man, in nine cases outof ten, can be told from the length of his stride. it is a simple calculation enough,though there is no use my boring you with figures. i had this fellow's stride both onthe clay outside and on the dust within. then i had a way of checking my calculation. whena man writes on a wall, his instinct leads him to write about the level of his own eyes.now that writing was just over six feet from the ground. it was child's play."
"and his age?" i asked. "well, if a man can stride four and a-halffeet without the smallest effort, he can't be quite in the sere and yellow. that wasthe breadth of a puddle on the garden walk which he had evidently walked across. patent-leatherboots had gone round, and square-toes had hopped over. there is no mystery about itat all. i am simply applying to ordinary life a few of those precepts of observation anddeduction which i advocated in that article. is there anything else that puzzles you?" "the finger nails and the trichinopoly," isuggested. "the writing on the wall was done with a man'sforefinger dipped in blood. my glass allowed
me to observe that the plaster was slightlyscratched in doing it, which would not have been the case if the man's nail had been trimmed.i gathered up some scattered ash from the floor. it was dark in colour and flakey—suchan ash as is only made by a trichinopoly. i have made a special study of cigar ashes—infact, i have written a monograph upon the subject. i flatter myself that i can distinguishat a glance the ash of any known brand, either of cigar or of tobacco. it is just in suchdetails that the skilled detective differs from the gregson and lestrade type." "and the florid face?" i asked. "ah, that was a more daring shot, though ihave no doubt that i was right. you must not
ask me that at the present state of the affair." i passed my hand over my brow. "my head isin a whirl," i remarked; "the more one thinks of it the more mysterious it grows. how camethese two men—if there were two men—into an empty house? what has become of the cabmanwho drove them? how could one man compel another to take poison? where did the blood come from?what was the object of the murderer, since robbery had no part in it? how came the woman'sring there? above all, why should the second man write up the german word rache beforedecamping? i confess that i cannot see any possible way of reconciling all these facts." my companion smiled approvingly.
"you sum up the difficulties of the situationsuccinctly and well," he said. "there is much that is still obscure, though i have quitemade up my mind on the main facts. as to poor lestrade's discovery it was simply a blindintended to put the police upon a wrong track, by suggesting socialism and secret societies.it was not done by a german. the a, if you noticed, was printed somewhat after the germanfashion. now, a real german invariably prints in the latin character, so that we may safelysay that this was not written by one, but by a clumsy imitator who overdid his part.it was simply a ruse to divert inquiry into a wrong channel. i'm not going to tell youmuch more of the case, doctor. you know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has explainedhis trick, and if i show you too much of my
method of working, you will come to the conclusionthat i am a very ordinary individual after all." "i shall never do that," i answered; "youhave brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world." my companion flushed up with pleasure at mywords, and the earnest way in which i uttered them. i had already observed that he was assensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty. "i'll tell you one other thing," he said."patent leathers 10 and square-toes came in the same cab, and they walked down the pathwaytogether as friendly as possible—arm-in-arm,
in all probability. when they got inside theywalked up and down the room—or rather, patent-leathers stood still while square-toes walked up anddown. i could read all that in the dust; and i could read that as he walked he grew moreand more excited. that is shown by the increased length of his strides. he was talking allthe while, and working himself up, no doubt, into a fury. then the tragedy occurred. i'vetold you all i know myself now, for the rest is mere surmise and conjecture. we have agood working basis, however, on which to start. we must hurry up, for i want to go to halle'sconcert to hear norman neruda this afternoon." this conversation had occurred while our cabhad been threading its way through a long succession of dingy streets and dreary by-ways.in the dingiest and dreariest of them our
driver suddenly came to a stand. "that's audleycourt in there," he said, pointing to a narrow slit in the line of dead-coloured brick. "you'llfind me here when you come back." audley court was not an attractive locality.the narrow passage led us into a quadrangle paved with flags and lined by sordid dwellings.we picked our way among groups of dirty children, and through lines of discoloured linen, untilwe came to number 46, the door of which was decorated with a small slip of brass on whichthe name rance was engraved. on enquiry we found that the constable was in bed, and wewere shown into a little front parlour to await his coming. he appeared presently, looking a little irritableat being disturbed in his slumbers. "i made
my report at the office," he said. holmes took a half-sovereign from his pocketand played with it pensively. "we thought that we should like to hear it all from yourown lips," he said. "i shall be most happy to tell you anythingi can," the constable answered with his eyes upon the little golden disk. "just let us hear it all in your own way asit occurred." rance sat down on the horsehair sofa, andknitted his brows as though determined not to omit anything in his narrative. "i'll tell it ye from the beginning," he said."my time is from ten at night to six in the
morning. at eleven there was a fight at the'white hart'; but bar that all was quiet enough on the beat. at one o'clock it began to rain,and i met harry murcher—him who has the holland grove beat—and we stood togetherat the corner of henrietta street a-talkin'. presently—maybe about two or a little after—ithought i would take a look round and see that all was right down the brixton road.it was precious dirty and lonely. not a soul did i meet all the way down, though a cabor two went past me. i was a strollin' down, thinkin' between ourselves how uncommon handya four of gin hot would be, when suddenly the glint of a light caught my eye in thewindow of that same house. now, i knew that them two houses in lauriston gardens was emptyon account of him that owns them who won't
have the drains seen to, though the very lasttenant what lived in one of them died o' typhoid fever. i was knocked all in a heap thereforeat seeing a light in the window, and i suspected as something was wrong. when i got to thedoor——" "you stopped, and then walked back to thegarden gate," my companion interrupted. "what did you do that for?" rance gave a violent jump, and stared at sherlockholmes with the utmost amazement upon his features. "why, that's true, sir," he said; "thoughhow you come to know it, heaven only knows. ye see, when i got up to the door it was sostill and so lonesome, that i thought i'd
be none the worse for some one with me. iain't afeared of anything on this side o' the grave; but i thought that maybe it washim that died o' the typhoid inspecting the drains what killed him. the thought gave mea kind o' turn, and i walked back to the gate to see if i could see murcher's lantern, butthere wasn't no sign of him nor of anyone else." "there was no one in the street?" "not a livin' soul, sir, nor as much as adog. then i pulled myself together and went back and pushed the door open. all was quietinside, so i went into the room where the light was a-burnin'. there was a candle flickerin'on the mantelpiece—a red wax one—and by
its light i saw——" "yes, i know all that you saw. you walkedround the room several times, and you knelt down by the body, and then you walked throughand tried the kitchen door, and then——" john rance sprang to his feet with a frightenedface and suspicion in his eyes. "where was you hid to see all that?" he cried. "it seemsto me that you knows a deal more than you should." holmes laughed and threw his card across thetable to the constable. "don't get arresting me for the murder," he said. "i am one ofthe hounds and not the wolf; mr. gregson or mr. lestrade will answer for that. go on,though. what did you do next?"
rance resumed his seat, without however losinghis mystified expression. "i went back to the gate and sounded my whistle. that broughtmurcher and two more to the spot." "was the street empty then?" "well, it was, as far as anybody that couldbe of any good goes." "what do you mean?" the constable's features broadened into agrin. "i've seen many a drunk chap in my time," he said, "but never anyone so cryin' drunkas that cove. he was at the gate when i came out, a-leanin' up agin the railings, and a-singin'at the pitch o' his lungs about columbine's new-fangled banner, or some such stuff. hecouldn't stand, far less help."
"what sort of a man was he?" asked sherlockholmes. john rance appeared to be somewhat irritatedat this digression. "he was an uncommon drunk sort o' man," he said. "he'd ha' found hisselfin the station if we hadn't been so took up." "his face—his dress—didn't you noticethem?" holmes broke in impatiently. "i should think i did notice them, seeingthat i had to prop him up—me and murcher between us. he was a long chap, with a redface, the lower part muffled round——" "that will do," cried holmes. "what becameof him?" "we'd enough to do without lookin' after him,"the policeman said, in an aggrieved voice. "i'll wager he found his way home all right."
"how was he dressed?" "a brown overcoat." "had he a whip in his hand?" "a whip—no." "he must have left it behind," muttered mycompanion. "you didn't happen to see or hear a cab after that?" "no." "there's a half-sovereign for you," my companionsaid, standing up and taking his hat. "i am afraid, rance, that you will never rise inthe force. that head of yours should be for
use as well as ornament. you might have gainedyour sergeant's stripes last night. the man whom you held in your hands is the man whoholds the clue of this mystery, and whom we are seeking. there is no use of arguing aboutit now; i tell you that it is so. come along, doctor." we started off for the cab together, leavingour informant incredulous, but obviously uncomfortable. "the blundering fool," holmes said, bitterly,as we drove back to our lodgings. "just to think of his having such an incomparable bitof good luck, and not taking advantage of it." "i am rather in the dark still. it is truethat the description of this man tallies with
your idea of the second party in this mystery.but why should he come back to the house after leaving it? that is not the way of criminals." "the ring, man, the ring: that was what hecame back for. if we have no other way of catching him, we can always bait our linewith the ring. i shall have him, doctor—i'll lay you two to one that i have him. i mustthank you for it all. i might not have gone but for you, and so have missed the fineststudy i ever came across: a study in scarlet, eh? why shouldn't we use a little art jargon.there's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, andour duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it. and now for lunch,and then for norman neruda. her attack and
her bowing are splendid. what's that littlething of chopin's she plays so magnificently: tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay." leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhoundcarolled away like a lark while i meditated upon the many-sidedness of the human mind. chapter v. our advertisement brings a visitor. our morning's exertions had been too muchfor my weak health, and i was tired out in the afternoon. after holmes' departure forthe concert, i lay down upon the sofa and endeavoured to get a couple of hours' sleep.it was a useless attempt. my mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred,and the strangest fancies and surmises crowded
into it. every time that i closed my eyesi saw before me the distorted baboon-like countenance of the murdered man. so sinisterwas the impression which that face had produced upon me that i found it difficult to feelanything but gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world. if ever human featuresbespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were certainly those of enoch j. drebber,of cleveland. still i recognized that justice must be done, and that the depravity of thevictim was no condonment 11 in the eyes of the law. the more i thought of it the more extraordinarydid my companion's hypothesis, that the man had been poisoned, appear. i remembered howhe had sniffed his lips, and had no doubt
that he had detected something which had givenrise to the idea. then, again, if not poison, what had caused the man's death, since therewas neither wound nor marks of strangulation? but, on the other hand, whose blood was thatwhich lay so thickly upon the floor? there were no signs of a struggle, nor had the victimany weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist. as long as all these questionswere unsolved, i felt that sleep would be no easy matter, either for holmes or myself.his quiet self-confident manner convinced me that he had already formed a theory whichexplained all the facts, though what it was i could not for an instant conjecture. he was very late in returning—so late, thati knew that the concert could not have detained
him all the time. dinner was on the tablebefore he appeared. "it was magnificent," he said, as he tookhis seat. "do you remember what darwin says about music? he claims that the power of producingand appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrivedat. perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. there are vague memories in our soulsof those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood." "that's rather a broad idea," i remarked. "one's ideas must be as broad as nature ifthey are to interpret nature," he answered. "what's the matter? you're not looking quiteyourself. this brixton road affair has upset
you." "to tell the truth, it has," i said. "i oughtto be more case-hardened after my afghan experiences. i saw my own comrades hacked to pieces atmaiwand without losing my nerve." "i can understand. there is a mystery aboutthis which stimulates the imagination; where there is no imagination there is no horror.have you seen the evening paper?" "it gives a fairly good account of the affair.it does not mention the fact that when the man was raised up, a woman's wedding ringfell upon the floor. it is just as well it does not." "why?"
"look at this advertisement," he answered."i had one sent to every paper this morning immediately after the affair." he threw the paper across to me and i glancedat the place indicated. it was the first announcement in the "found" column. "in brixton road, thismorning," it ran, "a plain gold wedding ring, found in the roadway between the 'white hart'tavern and holland grove. apply dr. watson, 221b, baker street, between eight and ninethis evening." "excuse my using your name," he said. "ifi used my own some of these dunderheads would recognize it, and want to meddle in the affair." "that is all right," i answered. "but supposinganyone applies, i have no ring."
"oh yes, you have," said he, handing me one."this will do very well. it is almost a facsimile." "and who do you expect will answer this advertisement." "why, the man in the brown coat—our floridfriend with the square toes. if he does not come himself he will send an accomplice." "would he not consider it as too dangerous?" "not at all. if my view of the case is correct,and i have every reason to believe that it is, this man would rather risk anything thanlose the ring. according to my notion he dropped it while stooping over drebber's body, anddid not miss it at the time. after leaving the house he discovered his loss and hurriedback, but found the police already in possession,
owing to his own folly in leaving the candleburning. he had to pretend to be drunk in order to allay the suspicions which mighthave been aroused by his appearance at the gate. now put yourself in that man's place.on thinking the matter over, it must have occurred to him that it was possible thathe had lost the ring in the road after leaving the house. what would he do, then? he wouldeagerly look out for the evening papers in the hope of seeing it among the articles found.his eye, of course, would light upon this. he would be overjoyed. why should he feara trap? there would be no reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring should be connectedwith the murder. he would come. he will come. you shall see him within an hour?"
"and then?" i asked. "oh, you can leave me to deal with him then.have you any arms?" "i have my old service revolver and a fewcartridges." "you had better clean it and load it. he willbe a desperate man, and though i shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready foranything." i went to my bedroom and followed his advice.when i returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and holmes was engaged inhis favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin. "the plot thickens," he said, as i entered;"i have just had an answer to my american
telegram. my view of the case is the correctone." "and that is?" i asked eagerly. "my fiddle would be the better for new strings,"he remarked. "put your pistol in your pocket. when the fellow comes speak to him in an ordinaryway. leave the rest to me. don't frighten him by looking at him too hard." "it is eight o'clock now," i said, glancingat my watch. "yes. he will probably be here in a few minutes.open the door slightly. that will do. now put the key on the inside. thank you! thisis a queer old book i picked up at a stall yesterday—'de jure inter gentes'—publishedin latin at liege in the lowlands, in 1642.
charles' head was still firm on his shoulderswhen this little brown-backed volume was struck off." "who is the printer?" "philippe de croy, whoever he may have been.on the fly-leaf, in very faded ink, is written 'ex libris guliolmi whyte.' i wonder who williamwhyte was. some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, i suppose. his writing has a legaltwist about it. here comes our man, i think." as he spoke there was a sharp ring at thebell. sherlock holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the direction of the door. weheard the servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of the latch as she openedit.
"does dr. watson live here?" asked a clearbut rather harsh voice. we could not hear the servant's reply, but the door closed,and some one began to ascend the stairs. the footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one.a look of surprise passed over the face of my companion as he listened to it. it cameslowly along the passage, and there was a feeble tap at the door. "come in," i cried. at my summons, instead of the man of violencewhom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment. she appearedto be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinkingat us with her bleared eyes and fumbling in
her pocket with nervous, shaky fingers. iglanced at my companion, and his face had assumed such a disconsolate expression thatit was all i could do to keep my countenance. the old crone drew out an evening paper, andpointed at our advertisement. "it's this as has brought me, good gentlemen," she said,dropping another curtsey; "a gold wedding ring in the brixton road. it belongs to mygirl sally, as was married only this time twelvemonth, which her husband is stewardaboard a union boat, and what he'd say if he come 'ome and found her without her ringis more than i can think, he being short enough at the best o' times, but more especiallywhen he has the drink. if it please you, she went to the circus last night along with——"
"is that her ring?" i asked. "the lord be thanked!" cried the old woman;"sally will be a glad woman this night. that's the ring." "and what may your address be?" i inquired,taking up a pencil. "13, duncan street, houndsditch. a weary wayfrom here." "the brixton road does not lie between anycircus and houndsditch," said sherlock holmes sharply. the old woman faced round and looked keenlyat him from her little red-rimmed eyes. "the gentleman asked me for my address," she said."sally lives in lodgings at 3, mayfield place,
peckham." "and your name is——?" "my name is sawyer—her's is dennis, whichtom dennis married her—and a smart, clean lad, too, as long as he's at sea, and no stewardin the company more thought of; but when on shore, what with the women and what with liquorshops——" "here is your ring, mrs. sawyer," i interrupted,in obedience to a sign from my companion; "it clearly belongs to your daughter, andi am glad to be able to restore it to the rightful owner." with many mumbled blessings and protestationsof gratitude the old crone packed it away
in her pocket, and shuffled off down the stairs.sherlock holmes sprang to his feet the moment that she was gone and rushed into his room.he returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster and a cravat. "i'll follow her,"he said, hurriedly; "she must be an accomplice, and will lead me to him. wait up for me."the hall door had hardly slammed behind our visitor before holmes had descended the stair.looking through the window i could see her walking feebly along the other side, whileher pursuer dogged her some little distance behind. "either his whole theory is incorrect,"i thought to myself, "or else he will be led now to the heart of the mystery." there wasno need for him to ask me to wait up for him, for i felt that sleep was impossible untili heard the result of his adventure.
it was close upon nine when he set out. ihad no idea how long he might be, but i sat stolidly puffing at my pipe and skipping overthe pages of henri murger's "vie de bohã¨me." ten o'clock passed, and i heard the footstepsof the maid as they pattered off to bed. eleven, and the more stately tread of the landladypassed my door, bound for the same destination. it was close upon twelve before i heard thesharp sound of his latch-key. the instant he entered i saw by his face that he had notbeen successful. amusement and chagrin seemed to be struggling for the mastery, until theformer suddenly carried the day, and he burst into a hearty laugh. "i wouldn't have the scotland yarders knowit for the world," he cried, dropping into
his chair; "i have chaffed them so much thatthey would never have let me hear the end of it. i can afford to laugh, because i knowthat i will be even with them in the long run." "what is it then?" i asked. "oh, i don't mind telling a story againstmyself. that creature had gone a little way when she began to limp and show every signof being foot-sore. presently she came to a halt, and hailed a four-wheeler which waspassing. i managed to be close to her so as to hear the address, but i need not have beenso anxious, for she sang it out loud enough to be heard at the other side of the street,'drive to 13, duncan street, houndsditch,'
she cried. this begins to look genuine, ithought, and having seen her safely inside, i perched myself behind. that's an art whichevery detective should be an expert at. well, away we rattled, and never drew rein untilwe reached the street in question. i hopped off before we came to the door, and strolleddown the street in an easy, lounging way. i saw the cab pull up. the driver jumped down,and i saw him open the door and stand expectantly. nothing came out though. when i reached himhe was groping about frantically in the empty cab, and giving vent to the finest assortedcollection of oaths that ever i listened to. there was no sign or trace of his passenger,and i fear it will be some time before he gets his fare. on inquiring at number 13 wefound that the house belonged to a respectable
paperhanger, named keswick, and that no oneof the name either of sawyer or dennis had ever been heard of there." "you don't mean to say," i cried, in amazement,"that that tottering, feeble old woman was able to get out of the cab while it was inmotion, without either you or the driver seeing her?" "old woman be damned!" said sherlock holmes,sharply. "we were the old women to be so taken in. it must have been a young man, and anactive one, too, besides being an incomparable actor. the get-up was inimitable. he saw thathe was followed, no doubt, and used this means of giving me the slip. it shows that the manwe are after is not as lonely as i imagined
he was, but has friends who are ready to risksomething for him. now, doctor, you are looking done-up. take my advice and turn in." i was certainly feeling very weary, so i obeyedhis injunction. i left holmes seated in front of the smouldering fire, and long into thewatches of the night i heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that he wasstill pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself to unravel. chapter vi. tobias gregson shows what he cando. the papers next day were full of the "brixtonmystery," as they termed it. each had a long account of the affair, and some had leadersupon it in addition. there was some information
in them which was new to me. i still retainin my scrap-book numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case. here is a condensationof a few of them:— the daily telegraph remarked that in the historyof crime there had seldom been a tragedy which presented stranger features. the german nameof the victim, the absence of all other motive, and the sinister inscription on the wall,all pointed to its perpetration by political refugees and revolutionists. the socialistshad many branches in america, and the deceased had, no doubt, infringed their unwritten laws,and been tracked down by them. after alluding airily to the vehmgericht, aqua tofana, carbonari,the marchioness de brinvilliers, the darwinian theory, the principles of malthus, and theratcliff highway murders, the article concluded
by admonishing the government and advocatinga closer watch over foreigners in england. the standard commented upon the fact thatlawless outrages of the sort usually occurred under a liberal administration. they arosefrom the unsettling of the minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening of all authority.the deceased was an american gentleman who had been residing for some weeks in the metropolis.he had stayed at the boarding-house of madame charpentier, in torquay terrace, camberwell.he was accompanied in his travels by his private secretary, mr. joseph stangerson. the twobade adieu to their landlady upon tuesday, the 4th inst., and departed to euston stationwith the avowed intention of catching the liverpool express. they were afterwards seentogether upon the platform. nothing more is
known of them until mr. drebber's body was,as recorded, discovered in an empty house in the brixton road, many miles from euston.how he came there, or how he met his fate, are questions which are still involved inmystery. nothing is known of the whereabouts of stangerson. we are glad to learn that mr.lestrade and mr. gregson, of scotland yard, are both engaged upon the case, and it isconfidently anticipated that these well-known officers will speedily throw light upon thematter. the daily news observed that there was nodoubt as to the crime being a political one. the despotism and hatred of liberalism whichanimated the continental governments had had the effect of driving to our shores a numberof men who might have made excellent citizens
were they not soured by the recollection ofall that they had undergone. among these men there was a stringent code of honour, anyinfringement of which was punished by death. every effort should be made to find the secretary,stangerson, and to ascertain some particulars of the habits of the deceased. a great stephad been gained by the discovery of the address of the house at which he had boarded—a resultwhich was entirely due to the acuteness and energy of mr. gregson of scotland yard. sherlock holmes and i read these notices overtogether at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him considerable amusement. "i told you that, whatever happened, lestradeand gregson would be sure to score."
"that depends on how it turns out." "oh, bless you, it doesn't matter in the least.if the man is caught, it will be on account of their exertions; if he escapes, it willbe in spite of their exertions. it's heads i win and tails you lose. whatever they do,they will have followers. 'un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire.'" "what on earth is this?" i cried, for at thismoment there came the pattering of many steps in the hall and on the stairs, accompaniedby audible expressions of disgust upon the part of our landlady. "it's the baker street division of the detectivepolice force," said my companion, gravely;
and as he spoke there rushed into the roomhalf a dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street arabs that ever i clapped eyes on. "'tention!" cried holmes, in a sharp tone,and the six dirty little scoundrels stood in a line like so many disreputable statuettes."in future you shall send up wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait inthe street. have you found it, wiggins?" "no, sir, we hain't," said one of the youths. "i hardly expected you would. you must keepon until you do. here are your wages." 13 he handed each of them a shilling. "now, off you go, and come back with a betterreport next time."
he waved his hand, and they scampered awaydownstairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices next moment in the street. "there's more work to be got out of one ofthose little beggars than out of a dozen of the force," holmes remarked. "the mere sightof an official-looking person seals men's lips. these youngsters, however, go everywhereand hear everything. they are as sharp as needles, too; all they want is organisation." "is it on this brixton case that you are employingthem?" i asked. "yes; there is a point which i wish to ascertain.it is merely a matter of time. hullo! we are going to hear some news now with a vengeance!here is gregson coming down the road with
beatitude written upon every feature of hisface. bound for us, i know. yes, he is stopping. there he is!" there was a violent peal at the bell, andin a few seconds the fair-haired detective came up the stairs, three steps at a time,and burst into our sitting-room. "my dear fellow," he cried, wringing holmes'unresponsive hand, "congratulate me! i have made the whole thing as clear as day." a shade of anxiety seemed to me to cross mycompanion's expressive face. "do you mean that you are on the right track?"he asked. "the right track! why, sir, we have the manunder lock and key."
"and his name is?" "arthur charpentier, sub-lieutenant in hermajesty's navy," cried gregson, pompously, rubbing his fat hands and inflating his chest. sherlock holmes gave a sigh of relief, andrelaxed into a smile. "take a seat, and try one of these cigars,"he said. "we are anxious to know how you managed it. will you have some whiskey and water?" "i don't mind if i do," the detective answered."the tremendous exertions which i have gone through during the last day or two have wornme out. not so much bodily exertion, you understand, as the strain upon the mind. you will appreciatethat, mr. sherlock holmes, for we are both
brain-workers." "you do me too much honour," said holmes,gravely. "let us hear how you arrived at this most gratifying result." the detective seated himself in the arm-chair,and puffed complacently at his cigar. then suddenly he slapped his thigh in a paroxysmof amusement. "the fun of it is," he cried, "that that foollestrade, who thinks himself so smart, has gone off upon the wrong track altogether.he is after the secretary stangerson, who had no more to do with the crime than thebabe unborn. i have no doubt that he has caught him by this time."
the idea tickled gregson so much that he laugheduntil he choked. "and how did you get your clue?" "ah, i'll tell you all about it. of course,doctor watson, this is strictly between ourselves. the first difficulty which we had to contendwith was the finding of this american's antecedents. some people would have waited until theiradvertisements were answered, or until parties came forward and volunteered information.that is not tobias gregson's way of going to work. you remember the hat beside the deadman?" "yes," said holmes; "by john underwood andsons, 129, camberwell road." gregson looked quite crest-fallen.
"i had no idea that you noticed that," hesaid. "have you been there?" "ha!" cried gregson, in a relieved voice;"you should never neglect a chance, however small it may seem." "to a great mind, nothing is little," remarkedholmes, sententiously. "well, i went to underwood, and asked himif he had sold a hat of that size and description. he looked over his books, and came on it atonce. he had sent the hat to a mr. drebber, residing at charpentier's boarding establishment,torquay terrace. thus i got at his address." "smart—very smart!" murmured sherlock holmes. "i next called upon madame charpentier," continuedthe detective. "i found her very pale and
distressed. her daughter was in the room,too—an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes and herlips trembled as i spoke to her. that didn't escape my notice. i began to smell a rat.you know the feeling, mr. sherlock holmes, when you come upon the right scent—a kindof thrill in your nerves. 'have you heard of the mysterious death of your late boardermr. enoch j. drebber, of cleveland?' i asked. "the mother nodded. she didn't seem able toget out a word. the daughter burst into tears. i felt more than ever that these people knewsomething of the matter. "'at what o'clock did mr. drebber leave yourhouse for the train?' i asked. "'at eight o'clock,' she said, gulping inher throat to keep down her agitation. 'his
secretary, mr. stangerson, said that therewere two trains—one at 9.15 and one at 11. he was to catch the first. 14 "'and was that the last which you saw of him?' "a terrible change came over the woman's faceas i asked the question. her features turned perfectly livid. it was some seconds beforeshe could get out the single word 'yes'—and when it did come it was in a husky unnaturaltone. "there was silence for a moment, and thenthe daughter spoke in a calm clear voice. "'no good can ever come of falsehood, mother,'she said. 'let us be frank with this gentleman. we did see mr. drebber again.'
"'god forgive you!' cried madame charpentier,throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. 'you have murdered your brother.' "'arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,'the girl answered firmly. "'you had best tell me all about it now,'i said. 'half-confidences are worse than none. besides, you do not know how much we knowof it.' "'on your head be it, alice!' cried her mother;and then, turning to me, 'i will tell you all, sir. do not imagine that my agitationon behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terribleaffair. he is utterly innocent of it. my dread is, however, that in your eyes and in theeyes of others he may appear to be compromised.
that however is surely impossible. his highcharacter, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it.' "'your best way is to make a clean breastof the facts,' i answered. 'depend upon it, if your son is innocent he will be none theworse.' "'perhaps, alice, you had better leave ustogether,' she said, and her daughter withdrew. 'now, sir,' she continued, 'i had no intentionof telling you all this, but since my poor daughter has disclosed it i have no alternative.having once decided to speak, i will tell you all without omitting any particular.' "'it is your wisest course,' said i.
"'mr. drebber has been with us nearly threeweeks. he and his secretary, mr. stangerson, had been travelling on the continent. i noticeda "copenhagen" label upon each of their trunks, showing that that had been their last stoppingplace. stangerson was a quiet reserved man, but his employer, i am sorry to say, was farotherwise. he was coarse in his habits and brutish in his ways. the very night of hisarrival he became very much the worse for drink, and, indeed, after twelve o'clock inthe day he could hardly ever be said to be sober. his manners towards the maid-servantswere disgustingly free and familiar. worst of all, he speedily assumed the same attitudetowards my daughter, alice, and spoke to her more than once in a way which, fortunately,she is too innocent to understand. on one
occasion he actually seized her in his armsand embraced her—an outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him for hisunmanly conduct.' "'but why did you stand all this,' i asked.'i suppose that you can get rid of your boarders when you wish.' "mrs. charpentier blushed at my pertinentquestion. 'would to god that i had given him notice on the very day that he came,' shesaid. 'but it was a sore temptation. they were paying a pound a day each—fourteenpounds a week, and this is the slack season. i am a widow, and my boy in the navy has costme much. i grudged to lose the money. i acted for the best. this last was too much, however,and i gave him notice to leave on account
of it. that was the reason of his going.' "'well?' "'my heart grew light when i saw him driveaway. my son is on leave just now, but i did not tell him anything of all this, for histemper is violent, and he is passionately fond of his sister. when i closed the doorbehind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. alas, in less than an hour therewas a ring at the bell, and i learned that mr. drebber had returned. he was much excited,and evidently the worse for drink. he forced his way into the room, where i was sittingwith my daughter, and made some incoherent remark about having missed his train. he thenturned to alice, and before my very face,
proposed to her that she should fly with him."you are of age," he said, "and there is no law to stop you. i have money enough and tospare. never mind the old girl here, but come along with me now straight away. you shalllive like a princess." poor alice was so frightened that she shrunk away from him, but he caughther by the wrist and endeavoured to draw her towards the door. i screamed, and at thatmoment my son arthur came into the room. what happened then i do not know. i heard oathsand the confused sounds of a scuffle. i was too terrified to raise my head. when i didlook up i saw arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand. "i don'tthink that fine fellow will trouble us again," he said. "i will just go after him and seewhat he does with himself." with those words
he took his hat and started off down the street.the next morning we heard of mr. drebber's mysterious death.' "this statement came from mrs. charpentier'slips with many gasps and pauses. at times she spoke so low that i could hardly catchthe words. i made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should beno possibility of a mistake." "it's quite exciting," said sherlock holmes,with a yawn. "what happened next?" "when mrs. charpentier paused," the detectivecontinued, "i saw that the whole case hung upon one point. fixing her with my eye ina way which i always found effective with women, i asked her at what hour her son returned.
"'i do not know,' she answered. "'not know?' "'no; he has a latch-key, and he let himselfin.' "'after you went to bed?' "'yes.' "'when did you go to bed?' "'about eleven.' "'so your son was gone at least two hours?' "'possibly four or five?'
"'what was he doing during that time?' "'i do not know,' she answered, turning whiteto her very lips. "of course after that there was nothing moreto be done. i found out where lieutenant charpentier was, took two officers with me, and arrestedhim. when i touched him on the shoulder and warned him to come quietly with us, he answeredus as bold as brass, 'i suppose you are arresting me for being concerned in the death of thatscoundrel drebber,' he said. we had said nothing to him about it, so that his alluding to ithad a most suspicious aspect." "very," said holmes. "he still carried the heavy stick which themother described him as having with him when
he followed drebber. it was a stout oak cudgel." "what is your theory, then?" "well, my theory is that he followed drebberas far as the brixton road. when there, a fresh altercation arose between them, in thecourse of which drebber received a blow from the stick, in the pit of the stomach, perhaps,which killed him without leaving any mark. the night was so wet that no one was about,so charpentier dragged the body of his victim into the empty house. as to the candle, andthe blood, and the writing on the wall, and the ring, they may all be so many tricks tothrow the police on to the wrong scent." "well done!" said holmes in an encouragingvoice. "really, gregson, you are getting along.
we shall make something of you yet." "i flatter myself that i have managed it ratherneatly," the detective answered proudly. "the young man volunteered a statement, in whichhe said that after following drebber some time, the latter perceived him, and took acab in order to get away from him. on his way home he met an old shipmate, and tooka long walk with him. on being asked where this old shipmate lived, he was unable togive any satisfactory reply. i think the whole case fits together uncommonly well. what amusesme is to think of lestrade, who had started off upon the wrong scent. i am afraid he won'tmake much of 15 why, by jove, here's the very man himself!"
it was indeed lestrade, who had ascended thestairs while we were talking, and who now entered the room. the assurance and jauntinesswhich generally marked his demeanour and dress were, however, wanting. his face was disturbedand troubled, while his clothes were disarranged and untidy. he had evidently come with theintention of consulting with sherlock holmes, for on perceiving his colleague he appearedto be embarrassed and put out. he stood in the centre of the room, fumbling nervouslywith his hat and uncertain what to do. "this is a most extraordinary case," he said atlast—"a most incomprehensible affair." "ah, you find it so, mr. lestrade!" criedgregson, triumphantly. "i thought you would come to that conclusion. have you managedto find the secretary, mr. joseph stangerson?"
"the secretary, mr. joseph stangerson," saidlestrade gravely, "was murdered at halliday's private hotel about six o'clock this morning." chapter vii. light in the darkness. the intelligence with which lestrade greetedus was so momentous and so unexpected, that we were all three fairly dumfoundered. gregsonsprang out of his chair and upset the remainder of his whiskey and water. i stared in silenceat sherlock holmes, whose lips were compressed and his brows drawn down over his eyes. "stangerson too!" he muttered. "the plot thickens." "it was quite thick enough before," grumbledlestrade, taking a chair. "i seem to have
dropped into a sort of council of war." "are you—are you sure of this piece of intelligence?"stammered gregson. "i have just come from his room," said lestrade."i was the first to discover what had occurred." "we have been hearing gregson's view of thematter," holmes observed. "would you mind letting us know what you have seen and done?" "i have no objection," lestrade answered,seating himself. "i freely confess that i was of the opinion that stangerson was concernedin the death of drebber. this fresh development has shown me that i was completely mistaken.full of the one idea, i set myself to find out what had become of the secretary. theyhad been seen together at euston station about
half-past eight on the evening of the third.at two in the morning drebber had been found in the brixton road. the question which confrontedme was to find out how stangerson had been employed between 8.30 and the time of thecrime, and what had become of him afterwards. i telegraphed to liverpool, giving a descriptionof the man, and warning them to keep a watch upon the american boats. i then set to workcalling upon all the hotels and lodging-houses in the vicinity of euston. you see, i arguedthat if drebber and his companion had become separated, the natural course for the latterwould be to put up somewhere in the vicinity for the night, and then to hang about thestation again next morning." "they would be likely to agree on some meeting-placebeforehand," remarked holmes.
"so it proved. i spent the whole of yesterdayevening in making enquiries entirely without avail. this morning i began very early, andat eight o'clock i reached halliday's private hotel, in little george street. on my enquiryas to whether a mr. stangerson was living there, they at once answered me in the affirmative. "'no doubt you are the gentleman whom he wasexpecting,' they said. 'he has been waiting for a gentleman for two days.' "'where is he now?' i asked. "'he is upstairs in bed. he wished to be calledat nine.' "'i will go up and see him at once,' i said.
"it seemed to me that my sudden appearancemight shake his nerves and lead him to say something unguarded. the boots volunteeredto show me the room: it was on the second floor, and there was a small corridor leadingup to it. the boots pointed out the door to me, and was about to go downstairs again wheni saw something that made me feel sickish, in spite of my twenty years' experience. fromunder the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandered across the passageand formed a little pool along the skirting at the other side. i gave a cry, which broughtthe boots back. he nearly fainted when he saw it. the door was locked on the inside,but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked it in. the window of the room was open, andbeside the window, all huddled up, lay the
body of a man in his nightdress. he was quitedead, and had been for some time, for his limbs were rigid and cold. when we turnedhim over, the boots recognized him at once as being the same gentleman who had engagedthe room under the name of joseph stangerson. the cause of death was a deep stab in theleft side, which must have penetrated the heart. and now comes the strangest part ofthe affair. what do you suppose was above the murdered man?" i felt a creeping of the flesh, and a presentimentof coming horror, even before sherlock holmes answered. "the word rache, written in letters of blood,"he said.
"that was it," said lestrade, in an awe-struckvoice; and we were all silent for a while. there was something so methodical and so incomprehensibleabout the deeds of this unknown assassin, that it imparted a fresh ghastliness to hiscrimes. my nerves, which were steady enough on the field of battle tingled as i thoughtof it. "the man was seen," continued lestrade. "amilk boy, passing on his way to the dairy, happened to walk down the lane which leadsfrom the mews at the back of the hotel. he noticed that a ladder, which usually lay there,was raised against one of the windows of the second floor, which was wide open. after passing,he looked back and saw a man descend the ladder. he came down so quietly and openly that theboy imagined him to be some carpenter or joiner
at work in the hotel. he took no particularnotice of him, beyond thinking in his own mind that it was early for him to be at work.he has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish face, and was dressed in a long,brownish coat. he must have stayed in the room some little time after the murder, forwe found blood-stained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks onthe sheets where he had deliberately wiped his knife." i glanced at holmes on hearing the descriptionof the murderer, which tallied so exactly with his own. there was, however, no traceof exultation or satisfaction upon his face. "did you find nothing in the room which couldfurnish a clue to the murderer?" he asked.
"nothing. stangerson had drebber's purse inhis pocket, but it seems that this was usual, as he did all the paying. there was eightyodd pounds in it, but nothing had been taken. whatever the motives of these extraordinarycrimes, robbery is certainly not one of them. there were no papers or memoranda in the murderedman's pocket, except a single telegram, dated from cleveland about a month ago, and containingthe words, 'j. h. is in europe.' there was no name appended to this message." "and there was nothing else?" holmes asked. "nothing of any importance. the man's novel,with which he had read himself to sleep was lying upon the bed, and his pipe was on achair beside him. there was a glass of water
on the table, and on the window-sill a smallchip ointment box containing a couple of pills." sherlock holmes sprang from his chair withan exclamation of delight. "the last link," he cried, exultantly. "mycase is complete." the two detectives stared at him in amazement. "i have now in my hands," my companion said,confidently, "all the threads which have formed such a tangle. there are, of course, detailsto be filled in, but i am as certain of all the main facts, from the time that drebberparted from stangerson at the station, up to the discovery of the body of the latter,as if i had seen them with my own eyes. i will give you a proof of my knowledge. couldyou lay your hand upon those pills?"
"i have them," said lestrade, producing asmall white box; "i took them and the purse and the telegram, intending to have them putin a place of safety at the police station. it was the merest chance my taking these pills,for i am bound to say that i do not attach any importance to them." "give them here," said holmes. "now, doctor,"turning to me, "are those ordinary pills?" they certainly were not. they were of a pearlygrey colour, small, round, and almost transparent against the light. "from their lightness andtransparency, i should imagine that they are soluble in water," i remarked. "precisely so," answered holmes. "now wouldyou mind going down and fetching that poor
little devil of a terrier which has been badso long, and which the landlady wanted you to put out of its pain yesterday." i went downstairs and carried the dog upstairin my arms. it's laboured breathing and glazing eye showed that it was not far from its end.indeed, its snow-white muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual term ofcanine existence. i placed it upon a cushion on the rug. "i will now cut one of these pills in two,"said holmes, and drawing his penknife he suited the action to the word. "one half we returninto the box for future purposes. the other half i will place in this wine glass, in whichis a teaspoonful of water. you perceive that
our friend, the doctor, is right, and thatit readily dissolves." "this may be very interesting," said lestrade,in the injured tone of one who suspects that he is being laughed at, "i cannot see, however,what it has to do with the death of mr. joseph stangerson." "patience, my friend, patience! you will findin time that it has everything to do with it. i shall now add a little milk to makethe mixture palatable, and on presenting it to the dog we find that he laps it up readilyenough." as he spoke he turned the contents of thewine glass into a saucer and placed it in front of the terrier, who speedily lickedit dry. sherlock holmes' earnest demeanour
had so far convinced us that we all sat insilence, watching the animal intently, and expecting some startling effect. none suchappeared, however. the dog continued to lie stretched upon tho 16 cushion, breathing ina laboured way, but apparently neither the better nor the worse for its draught. holmes had taken out his watch, and as minutefollowed minute without result, an expression of the utmost chagrin and disappointment appearedupon his features. he gnawed his lip, drummed his fingers upon the table, and showed everyother symptom of acute impatience. so great was his emotion, that i felt sincerely sorryfor him, while the two detectives smiled derisively, by no means displeased at this check whichhe had met.
"it can't be a coincidence," he cried, atlast springing from his chair and pacing wildly up and down the room; "it is impossible thatit should be a mere coincidence. the very pills which i suspected in the case of drebberare actually found after the death of stangerson. and yet they are inert. what can it mean?surely my whole chain of reasoning cannot have been false. it is impossible! and yetthis wretched dog is none the worse. ah, i have it! i have it!" with a perfect shriekof delight he rushed to the box, cut the other pill in two, dissolved it, added milk, andpresented it to the terrier. the unfortunate creature's tongue seemed hardly to have beenmoistened in it before it gave a convulsive shiver in every limb, and lay as rigid andlifeless as if it had been struck by lightning.
sherlock holmes drew a long breath, and wipedthe perspiration from his forehead. "i should have more faith," he said; "i ought to knowby this time that when a fact appears to be opposed to a long train of deductions, itinvariably proves to be capable of bearing some other interpretation. of the two pillsin that box one was of the most deadly poison, and the other was entirely harmless. i oughtto have known that before ever i saw the box at all." this last statement appeared to me to be sostartling, that i could hardly believe that he was in his sober senses. there was thedead dog, however, to prove that his conjecture had been correct. it seemed to me that themists in my own mind were gradually clearing
away, and i began to have a dim, vague perceptionof the truth. "all this seems strange to you," continuedholmes, "because you failed at the beginning of the inquiry to grasp the importance ofthe single real clue which was presented to you. i had the good fortune to seize uponthat, and everything which has occurred since then has served to confirm my original supposition,and, indeed, was the logical sequence of it. hence things which have perplexed you andmade the case more obscure, have served to enlighten me and to strengthen my conclusions.it is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery. the most commonplace crime is oftenthe most mysterious because it presents no new or special features from which deductionsmay be drawn. this murder would have been
infinitely more difficult to unravel had thebody of the victim been simply found lying in the roadway without any of those outrã©and sensational accompaniments which have rendered it remarkable. these strange details,far from making the case more difficult, have really had the effect of making it less so." mr. gregson, who had listened to this addresswith considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer. "look here, mr. sherlockholmes," he said, "we are all ready to acknowledge that you are a smart man, and that you haveyour own methods of working. we want something more than mere theory and preaching now, though.it is a case of taking the man. i have made my case out, and it seems i was wrong. youngcharpentier could not have been engaged in
this second affair. lestrade went after hisman, stangerson, and it appears that he was wrong too. you have thrown out hints here,and hints there, and seem to know more than we do, but the time has come when we feelthat we have a right to ask you straight how much you do know of the business. can youname the man who did it?" "i cannot help feeling that gregson is right,sir," remarked lestrade. "we have both tried, and we have both failed. you have remarkedmore than once since i have been in the room that you had all the evidence which you require.surely you will not withhold it any longer." "any delay in arresting the assassin," i observed,"might give him time to perpetrate some fresh atrocity."
thus pressed by us all, holmes showed signsof irresolution. he continued to walk up and down the room with his head sunk on his chestand his brows drawn down, as was his habit when lost in thought. "there will be no more murders," he said atlast, stopping abruptly and facing us. "you can put that consideration out of the question.you have asked me if i know the name of the assassin. i do. the mere knowing of his nameis a small thing, however, compared with the power of laying our hands upon him. this iexpect very shortly to do. i have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements;but it is a thing which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man todeal with, who is supported, as i have had
occasion to prove, by another who is as cleveras himself. as long as this man has no idea that anyone can have a clue there is somechance of securing him; but if he had the slightest suspicion, he would change his name,and vanish in an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city. without meaningto hurt either of your feelings, i am bound to say that i consider these men to be morethan a match for the official force, and that is why i have not asked your assistance. ifi fail i shall, of course, incur all the blame due to this omission; but that i am preparedfor. at present i am ready to promise that the instant that i can communicate with youwithout endangering my own combinations, i shall do so."
gregson and lestrade seemed to be far fromsatisfied by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the detective police. the formerhad flushed up to the roots of his flaxen hair, while the other's beady eyes glistenedwith curiosity and resentment. neither of them had time to speak, however, before therewas a tap at the door, and the spokesman of the street arabs, young wiggins, introducedhis insignificant and unsavoury person. "please, sir," he said, touching his forelock,"i have the cab downstairs." "good boy," said holmes, blandly. "why don'tyou introduce this pattern at scotland yard?" he continued, taking a pair of steel handcuffsfrom a drawer. "see how beautifully the spring works. they fasten in an instant."
"the old pattern is good enough," remarkedlestrade, "if we can only find the man to put them on." "very good, very good," said holmes, smiling."the cabman may as well help me with my boxes. just ask him to step up, wiggins." i was surprised to find my companion speakingas though he were about to set out on a journey, since he had not said anything to me aboutit. there was a small portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out and began to strap.he was busily engaged at it when the cabman entered the room. "just give me a help with this buckle, cabman,"he said, kneeling over his task, and never
turning his head. the fellow came forward with a somewhat sullen,defiant air, and put down his hands to assist. at that instant there was a sharp click, thejangling of metal, and sherlock holmes sprang to his feet again. "gentlemen," he cried, with flashing eyes,"let me introduce you to mr. jefferson hope, the murderer of enoch drebber and of josephstangerson." the whole thing occurred in a moment—soquickly that i had no time to realize it. i have a vivid recollection of that instant,of holmes' triumphant expression and the ring of his voice, of the cabman's dazed, savageface, as he glared at the glittering handcuffs,
which had appeared as if by magic upon hiswrists. for a second or two we might have been a group of statues. then, with an inarticulateroar of fury, the prisoner wrenched himself free from holmes's grasp, and hurled himselfthrough the window. woodwork and glass gave way before him; but before he got quite through,gregson, lestrade, and holmes sprang upon him like so many staghounds. he was draggedback into the room, and then commenced a terrific conflict. so powerful and so fierce was he,that the four of us were shaken off again and again. he appeared to have the convulsivestrength of a man in an epileptic fit. his face and hands were terribly mangled by hispassage through the glass, but loss of blood had no effect in diminishing his resistance.it was not until lestrade succeeded in getting
his hand inside his neckcloth and half-stranglinghim that we made him realize that his struggles were of no avail; and even then we felt nosecurity until we had pinioned his feet as well as his hands. that done, we rose to ourfeet breathless and panting. "we have his cab," said sherlock holmes. "itwill serve to take him to scotland yard. and now, gentlemen," he continued, with a pleasantsmile, "we have reached the end of our little mystery. you are very welcome to put any questionsthat you like to me now, and there is no danger that i will refuse to answer them." part ii. the country of the saints. chapter i. on the great alkali plain.
in the central portion of the great northamerican continent there lies an arid and repulsive desert, which for many a long yearserved as a barrier against the advance of civilisation. from the sierra nevada to nebraska,and from the yellowstone river in the north to the colorado upon the south, is a regionof desolation and silence. nor is nature always in one mood throughout this grim district.it comprises snow-capped and lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. there are swift-flowingrivers which dash through jagged caãƒâ±ons; and there are enormous plains, which in winterare white with snow, and in summer are grey with the saline alkali dust. they all preserve,however, the common characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery.
there are no inhabitants of this land of despair.a band of pawnees or of blackfeet may occasionally traverse it in order to reach other hunting-grounds,but the hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sight of those awesome plains, and tofind themselves once more upon their prairies. the coyote skulks among the scrub, the buzzardflaps heavily through the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear lumbers through the dark ravines,and picks up such sustenance as it can amongst the rocks. these are the sole dwellers inthe wilderness. in the whole world there can be no more drearyview than that from the northern slope of the sierra blanco. as far as the eye can reachstretches the great flat plain-land, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersectedby clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes.
on the extreme verge of the horizon lie along chain of mountain peaks, with their rugged summits flecked with snow. in this great stretchof country there is no sign of life, nor of anything appertaining to life. there is nobird in the steel-blue heaven, no movement upon the dull, grey earthã¢â‚¬â€above all, thereis absolute silence. listen as one may, there is no shadow of a sound in all that mightywilderness; nothing but silenceã¢â‚¬â€complete and heart-subduing silence. it has been said there is nothing appertainingto life upon the broad plain. that is hardly true. looking down from the sierra blanco,one sees a pathway traced out across the desert, which winds away and is lost in the extremedistance. it is rutted with wheels and trodden
down by the feet of many adventurers. hereand there there are scattered white objects which glisten in the sun, and stand out againstthe dull deposit of alkali. approach, and examine them! they are bones: some large andcoarse, others smaller and more delicate. the former have belonged to oxen, and thelatter to men. for fifteen hundred miles one may trace this ghastly caravan route by thesescattered remains of those who had fallen by the wayside. looking down on this very scene, there stoodupon the fourth of may, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, a solitary traveller. his appearancewas such that he might have been the very genius or demon of the region. an observerwould have found it difficult to say whether
he was nearer to forty or to sixty. his facewas lean and haggard, and the brown parchment-like skin was drawn tightly over the projectingbones; his long, brown hair and beard were all flecked and dashed with white; his eyeswere sunken in his head, and burned with an unnatural lustre; while the hand which graspedhis rifle was hardly more fleshy than that of a skeleton. as he stood, he leaned uponhis weapon for support, and yet his tall figure and the massive framework of his bones suggesteda wiry and vigorous constitution. his gaunt face, however, and his clothes, which hungso baggily over his shrivelled limbs, proclaimed what it was that gave him that senile anddecrepit appearance. the man was dyingã¢â‚¬â€dying from hunger and from thirst.
he had toiled painfully down the ravine, andon to this little elevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs of water. now the greatsalt plain stretched before his eyes, and the distant belt of savage mountains, withouta sign anywhere of plant or tree, which might indicate the presence of moisture. in allthat broad landscape there was no gleam of hope. north, and east, and west he lookedwith wild questioning eyes, and then he realised that his wanderings had come to an end, andthat there, on that barren crag, he was about to die. "why not here, as well as in a featherbed, twenty years hence," he muttered, as he seated himself in the shelter of a boulder. before sitting down, he had deposited uponthe ground his useless rifle, and also a large
bundle tied up in a grey shawl, which he hadcarried slung over his right shoulder. it appeared to be somewhat too heavy for hisstrength, for in lowering it, it came down on the ground with some little violence. instantlythere broke from the grey parcel a little moaning cry, and from it there protruded asmall, scared face, with very bright brown eyes, and two little speckled, dimpled fists. "you've hurt me!" said a childish voice reproachfully. "have i though," the man answered penitently,"i didn't go for to do it." as he spoke he unwrapped the grey shawl and extricated apretty little girl of about five years of age, whose dainty shoes and smart pink frockwith its little linen apron all bespoke a
mother's care. the child was pale and wan,but her healthy arms and legs showed that she had suffered less than her companion. "how is it now?" he answered anxiously, forshe was still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the back of her head. "kiss it and make it well," she said, withperfect gravity, shoving 19 the injured part up to him. "that's what mother used to do.where's mother?" "mother's gone. i guess you'll see her beforelong." "gone, eh!" said the little girl. "funny,she didn't say good-bye; she 'most always did if she was just goin' over to auntie'sfor tea, and now she's been away three days.
say, it's awful dry, ain't it? ain't thereno water, nor nothing to eat?" "no, there ain't nothing, dearie. you'll justneed to be patient awhile, and then you'll be all right. put your head up agin me likethat, and then you'll feel bullier. it ain't easy to talk when your lips is like leather,but i guess i'd best let you know how the cards lie. what's that you've got?" "pretty things! fine things!" cried the littlegirl enthusiastically, holding up two glittering fragments of mica. "when we goes back to homei'll give them to brother bob." "you'll see prettier things than them soon,"said the man confidently. "you just wait a bit. i was going to tell you thoughã¢â‚¬â€youremember when we left the river?"
"oh, yes." "well, we reckoned we'd strike another riversoon, d'ye see. but there was somethin' wrong; compasses, or map, or somethin', and it didn'tturn up. water ran out. just except a little drop for the likes of you andã¢â‚¬â€andã¢â‚¬â€ã¢â‚¬â€" "and you couldn't wash yourself," interruptedhis companion gravely, staring up at his grimy visage. "no, nor drink. and mr. bender, he was thefust to go, and then indian pete, and then mrs. mcgregor, and then johnny hones, andthen, dearie, your mother." "then mother's a deader too," cried the littlegirl dropping her face in her pinafore and
sobbing bitterly. "yes, they all went except you and me. theni thought there was some chance of water in this direction, so i heaved you over my shoulderand we tramped it together. it don't seem as though we've improved matters. there'san almighty small chance for us now!" "do you mean that we are going to die too?"asked the child, checking her sobs, and raising her tear-stained face. "i guess that's about the size of it." "why didn't you say so before?" she said,laughing gleefully. "you gave me such a fright. why, of course, now as long as we die we'llbe with mother again."
"yes, you will, dearie." "and you too. i'll tell her how awful goodyou've been. i'll bet she meets us at the door of heaven with a big pitcher of water,and a lot of buckwheat cakes, hot, and toasted on both sides, like bob and me was fond of.how long will it be first?" "i don't knowã¢â‚¬â€not very long." the man'seyes were fixed upon the northern horizon. in the blue vault of the heaven there hadappeared three little specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly did theyapproach. they speedily resolved themselves into three large brown birds, which circledover the heads of the two wanderers, and then settled upon some rocks which overlooked them.they were buzzards, the vultures of the west,
whose coming is the forerunner of death. "cocks and hens," cried the little girl gleefully,pointing at their ill-omened forms, and clapping her hands to make them rise. "say, did godmake this country?" "in course he did," said her companion, ratherstartled by this unexpected question. "he made the country down in illinois, andhe made the missouri," the little girl continued. "i guess somebody else made the country inthese parts. it's not nearly so well done. they forgot the water and the trees." "what would ye think of offering up prayer?"the man asked diffidently. "it ain't night yet," she answered.
"it don't matter. it ain't quite regular,but he won't mind that, you bet. you say over them ones that you used to say every nightin the waggon when we was on the plains." "why don't you say some yourself?" the childasked, with wondering eyes. "i disremember them," he answered. "i hain'tsaid none since i was half the height o' that gun. i guess it's never too late. you saythem out, and i'll stand by and come in on the choruses." "then you'll need to kneel down, and me too,"she said, laying the shawl out for that purpose. "you've got to put your hands up like this.it makes you feel kind o' good." it was a strange sight had there been anythingbut the buzzards to see it. side by side on
the narrow shawl knelt the two wanderers,the little prattling child and the reckless, hardened adventurer. her chubby face, andhis haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloudless heaven in heartfelt entreatyto that dread being with whom they were face to face, while the two voicesã¢â‚¬â€the one thinand clear, the other deep and harshã¢â‚¬â€united in the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness.the prayer finished, they resumed their seat in the shadow of the boulder until the childfell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of her protector. he watched over her slumberfor some time, but nature proved to be too strong for him. for three days and three nightshe had allowed himself neither rest nor repose. slowly the eyelids drooped over the tiredeyes, and the head sunk lower and lower upon
the breast, until the man's grizzled beardwas mixed with the gold tresses of his companion, and both slept the same deep and dreamlessslumber. had the wanderer remained awake for anotherhalf hour a strange sight would have met his eyes. far away on the extreme verge of thealkali plain there rose up a little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardlyto be distinguished from the mists of the distance, but gradually growing higher andbroader until it formed a solid, well-defined cloud. this cloud continued to increase insize until it became evident that it could only be raised by a great multitude of movingcreatures. in more fertile spots the observer would have come to the conclusion that oneof those great herds of bisons which graze
upon the prairie land was approaching him.this was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. as the whirl of dust drew nearer tothe solitary bluff upon which the two castaways were reposing, the canvas-covered tilts ofwaggons and the figures of armed horsemen began to show up through the haze, and theapparition revealed itself as being a great caravan upon its journey for the west. butwhat a caravan! when the head of it had reached the base of the mountains, the rear was notyet visible on the horizon. right across the enormous plain stretched the straggling array,waggons and carts, men on horseback, and men on foot. innumerable women who staggered alongunder burdens, and children who toddled beside the waggons or peeped out from under the whitecoverings. this was evidently no ordinary
party of immigrants, but rather some nomadpeople who had been compelled from stress of circumstances to seek themselves a newcountry. there rose through the clear air a confused clattering and rumbling from thisgreat mass of humanity, with the creaking of wheels and the neighing of horses. loudas it was, it was not sufficient to rouse the two tired wayfarers above them. at the head of the column there rode a scoreor more of grave ironfaced men, clad in sombre homespun garments and armed with rifles. onreaching the base of the bluff they halted, and held a short council among themselves. "the wells are to the right, my brothers,"said one, a hard-lipped, clean-shaven man
with grizzly hair. "to the right of the sierra blancoã¢â‚¬â€so weshall reach the rio grande," said another. "fear not for water," cried a third. "he whocould draw it from the rocks will not now abandon his own chosen people." "amen! amen!" responded the whole party. they were about to resume their journey whenone of the youngest and keenest-eyed uttered an exclamation and pointed up at the ruggedcrag above them. from its summit there fluttered a little wisp of pink, showing up hard andbright against the grey rocks behind. at the sight there was a general reining up of horsesand unslinging of guns, while fresh horsemen
came galloping up to reinforce the vanguard.the word 'redskins' was on every lip. "there can't be any number of injuns here,"said the elderly man who appeared to be in command. "we have passed the pawnees, andthere are no other tribes until we cross the great mountains." "shall i go forward and see, brother stangerson,"asked one of the band. "and i," "and i," cried a dozen voices. "leave your horses below and we will awaityou here," the elder answered. in a moment the young fellows had dismounted, fastenedtheir horses, and were ascending the precipitous slope which led up to the object which hadexcited their curiosity. they advanced rapidly
and noiselessly, with the confidence and dexterityof practised scouts. the watchers from the plain below could see them flit from rockto rock until their figures stood out against the skyline. the young man who had first giventhe alarm was leading them. suddenly his followers saw him throw up his hands, as though overcomewith astonishment, and on joining him they were affected in the same way by the sightwhich met their eyes. on the little plateau which crowned the barrenhill there stood a single giant boulder, and against this boulder there lay a tall man,long-bearded and hard-featured, but of an excessive thinness. his placid face and regularbreathing showed that he was fast asleep. beside him lay a little child, with her roundwhite arms encircling his brown sinewy neck,
and her golden haired head resting upon thebreast of his velveteen tunic. her rosy lips were parted, showing the regular line of snow-whiteteeth within, and a playful smile played over her infantile features. her plump little whitelegs terminating in white socks and neat shoes with shining buckles, offered a strange contrastto the long shrivelled members of her companion. on the ledge of rock above this strange couplethere stood three solemn buzzards, who, at the sight of the new comers uttered raucousscreams of disappointment and flapped sullenly away. the cries of the foul birds awoke the twosleepers who stared about 20 them in bewilderment. the man staggered to his feet and looked downupon the plain which had been so desolate
when sleep had overtaken him, and which wasnow traversed by this enormous body of men and of beasts. his face assumed an expressionof incredulity as he gazed, and he passed his boney hand over his eyes. "this is whatthey call delirium, i guess," he muttered. the child stood beside him, holding on tothe skirt of his coat, and said nothing but looked all round her with the wondering questioninggaze of childhood. the rescuing party were speedily able to convincethe two castaways that their appearance was no delusion. one of them seized the littlegirl, and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others supported her gaunt companion,and assisted him towards the waggons. "my name is john ferrier," the wanderer explained;"me and that little un are all that's left
o' twenty-one people. the rest is all deado' thirst and hunger away down in the south." "is she your child?" asked someone. "i guess she is now," the other cried, defiantly;"she's mine 'cause i saved her. no man will take her from me. she's lucy ferrier fromthis day on. who are you, though?" he continued, glancing with curiosity at his stalwart, sunburnedrescuers; "there seems to be a powerful lot of ye." "nigh upon ten thousand," said one of theyoung men; "we are the persecuted children of godã¢â‚¬â€the chosen of the angel merona." "i never heard tell on him," said the wanderer."he appears to have chosen a fair crowd of
ye." "do not jest at that which is sacred," saidthe other sternly. "we are of those who believe in those sacred writings, drawn in egyptianletters on plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy joseph smith at palmyra.we have come from nauvoo, in the state of illinois, where we had founded our temple.we have come to seek a refuge from the violent man and from the godless, even though it bethe heart of the desert." the name of nauvoo evidently recalled recollectionsto john ferrier. "i see," he said, "you are the mormons." "we are the mormons," answered his companionswith one voice.
"and where are you going?" "we do not know. the hand of god is leadingus under the person of our prophet. you must come before him. he shall say what is to bedone with you." they had reached the base of the hill by thistime, and were surrounded by crowds of the pilgrimsã¢â‚¬â€pale-faced meek-looking women,strong laughing children, and anxious earnest-eyed men. many were the cries of astonishment andof commiseration which arose from them when they perceived the youth of one of the strangersand the destitution of the other. their escort did not halt, however, but pushed on, followedby a great crowd of mormons, until they reached a waggon, which was conspicuous for its greatsize and for the gaudiness and smartness of
its appearance. six horses were yoked to it,whereas the others were furnished with two, or, at most, four a-piece. beside the driverthere sat a man who could not have been more than thirty years of age, but whose massivehead and resolute expression marked him as a leader. he was reading a brown-backed volume,but as the crowd approached he laid it aside, and listened attentively to an account ofthe episode. then he turned to the two castaways. "if we take you with us," he said, in solemnwords, "it can only be as believers in our own creed. we shall have no wolves in ourfold. better far that your bones should bleach in this wilderness than that you should proveto be that little speck of decay which in time corrupts the whole fruit. will you comewith us on these terms?"
"guess i'll come with you on any terms," saidferrier, with such emphasis that the grave elders could not restrain a smile. the leaderalone retained his stern, impressive expression. "take him, brother stangerson," he said, "givehim food and drink, and the child likewise. let it be your task also to teach him ourholy creed. we have delayed long enough. forward! on, on to zion!" "on, on to zion!" cried the crowd of mormons,and the words rippled down the long caravan, passing from mouth to mouth until they diedaway in a dull murmur in the far distance. with a cracking of whips and a creaking ofwheels the great waggons got into motion, and soon the whole caravan was winding alongonce more. the elder to whose care the two
waifs had been committed, led them to hiswaggon, where a meal was already awaiting them. "you shall remain here," he said. "in a fewdays you will have recovered from your fatigues. in the meantime, remember that now and forever you are of our religion. brigham young has said it, and he has spoken with the voiceof joseph smith, which is the voice of god." chapter ii. the flower of utah. this is not the place to commemorate the trialsand privations endured by the immigrant mormons before they came to their final haven. fromthe shores of the mississippi to the western slopes of the rocky mountains they had struggledon with a constancy almost unparalleled in
history. the savage man, and the savage beast,hunger, thirst, fatigue, and diseaseã¢â‚¬â€every impediment which nature could place in theway, had all been overcome with anglo-saxon tenacity. yet the long journey and the accumulatedterrors had shaken the hearts of the stoutest among them. there was not one who did notsink upon his knees in heartfelt prayer when they saw the broad valley of utah bathed inthe sunlight beneath them, and learned from the lips of their leader that this was thepromised land, and that these virgin acres were to be theirs for evermore. young speedily proved himself to be a skilfuladministrator as well as a resolute chief. maps were drawn and charts prepared, in whichthe future city was sketched out. all around
farms were apportioned and allotted in proportionto the standing of each individual. the tradesman was put to his trade and the artisan to hiscalling. in the town streets and squares sprang up, as if by magic. in the country there wasdraining and hedging, planting and clearing, until the next summer saw the whole countrygolden with the wheat crop. everything prospered in the strange settlement. above all, thegreat temple which they had erected in the centre of the city grew ever taller and larger.from the first blush of dawn until the closing of the twilight, the clatter of the hammerand the rasp of the saw was never absent from the monument which the immigrants erectedto him who had led them safe through many dangers.
the two castaways, john ferrier and the littlegirl who had shared his fortunes and had been adopted as his daughter, accompanied the mormonsto the end of their great pilgrimage. little lucy ferrier was borne along pleasantly enoughin elder stangerson's waggon, a retreat which she shared with the mormon's three wives andwith his son, a headstrong forward boy of twelve. having rallied, with the elasticityof childhood, from the shock caused by her mother's death, she soon became a pet withthe women, and reconciled herself to this new life in her moving canvas-covered home.in the meantime ferrier having recovered from his privations, distinguished himself as auseful guide and an indefatigable hunter. so rapidly did he gain the esteem of his newcompanions, that when they reached the end
of their wanderings, it was unanimously agreedthat he should be provided with as large and as fertile a tract of land as any of the settlers,with the exception of young himself, and of stangerson, kemball, johnston, and drebber,who were the four principal elders. on the farm thus acquired john ferrier builthimself a substantial log-house, which received so many additions in succeeding years thatit grew into a roomy villa. he was a man of a practical turn of mind, keen in his dealingsand skilful with his hands. his iron constitution enabled him to work morning and evening atimproving and tilling his lands. hence it came about that his farm and all that belongedto him prospered exceedingly. in three years he was better off than his neighbours, insix he was well-to-do, in nine he was rich,
and in twelve there were not half a dozenmen in the whole of salt lake city who could compare with him. from the great inland seato the distant wahsatch mountains there was no name better known than that of john ferrier. there was one way and only one in which heoffended the susceptibilities of his co-religionists. no argument or persuasion could ever inducehim to set up a female establishment after the manner of his companions. he never gavereasons for this persistent refusal, but contented himself by resolutely and inflexibly adheringto his determination. there were some who accused him of lukewarmness in his adoptedreligion, and others who put it down to greed of wealth and reluctance to incur expense.others, again, spoke of some early love affair,
and of a fair-haired girl who had pined awayon the shores of the atlantic. whatever the reason, ferrier remained strictly celibate.in every other respect he conformed to the religion of the young settlement, and gainedthe name of being an orthodox and straight-walking man. lucy ferrier grew up within the log-house,and assisted her adopted father in all his undertakings. the keen air of the mountainsand the balsamic odour of the pine trees took the place of nurse and mother to the younggirl. as year succeeded to year she grew taller and stronger, her cheek more rudy, and herstep more elastic. many a wayfarer upon the high road which ran by ferrier's farm feltlong-forgotten thoughts revive in their mind
as they watched her lithe girlish figure trippingthrough the wheatfields, or met her mounted upon her father's mustang, and managing itwith all the ease and grace of a true child of the west. so the bud blossomed into a flower,and the year which saw her father the richest of the farmers left her as fair a specimenof american girlhood as could be found in the whole pacific slope. it was not the father, however, who firstdiscovered that the child had developed into the woman. it seldom is in such cases. thatmysterious change is too subtle and too gradual to be measured by dates. least of all doesthe maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice or the touch of a hand sets herheart thrilling within her, and she learns,
with a mixture of pride and of fear, thata new and a larger nature has awoken within her. there are few who cannot recall thatday and remember the one little incident which heralded the dawn of a new life. in the caseof lucy ferrier the occasion was serious enough in itself, apart from its future influenceon her destiny and that of many besides. it was a warm june morning, and the latterday saints were as busy as the bees whose hive they have chosen for their emblem. inthe fields and in the streets rose the same hum of human industry. down the dusty highroads defiled long streams of heavily-laden mules, all heading to the west, for the goldfever had broken out in california, and the overland route lay through the city of theelect. there, too, were droves of sheep and
bullocks coming in from the outlying pasturelands, and trains of tired immigrants, men and horses equally weary of their interminablejourney. through all this motley assemblage, threading her way with the skill of an accomplishedrider, there galloped lucy ferrier, her fair face flushed with the exercise and her longchestnut hair floating out behind her. she had a commission from her father in the city,and was dashing in as she had done many a time before, with all the fearlessness ofyouth, thinking only of her task and how it was to be performed. the travel-stained adventurersgazed after her in astonishment, and even the unemotional indians, journeying in withtheir pelties, relaxed their accustomed stoicism as they marvelled at the beauty of the pale-facedmaiden.
she had reached the outskirts of the citywhen she found the road blocked by a great drove of cattle, driven by a half-dozen wild-lookingherdsmen from the plains. in her impatience she endeavoured to pass this obstacle by pushingher horse into what appeared to be a gap. scarcely had she got fairly into it, however,before the beasts closed in behind her, and she found herself completely imbedded in themoving stream of fierce-eyed, long-horned bullocks. accustomed as she was to deal withcattle, she was not alarmed at her situation, but took advantage of every opportunity tourge her horse on in the hopes of pushing her way through the cavalcade. unfortunatelythe horns of one of the creatures, either by accident or design, came in violent contactwith the flank of the mustang, and excited
it to madness. in an instant it reared upupon its hind legs with a snort of rage, and pranced and tossed in a way that would haveunseated any but a most skilful rider. the situation was full of peril. every plungeof the excited horse brought it against the horns again, and goaded it to fresh madness.it was all that the girl could do to keep herself in the saddle, yet a slip would meana terrible death under the hoofs of the unwieldy and terrified animals. unaccustomed to suddenemergencies, her head began to swim, and her grip upon the bridle to relax. choked by therising cloud of dust and by the steam from the struggling creatures, she might have abandonedher efforts in despair, but for a kindly voice at her elbow which assured her of assistance.at the same moment a sinewy brown hand caught
the frightened horse by the curb, and forcinga way through the drove, soon brought her to the outskirts. "you're not hurt, i hope, miss," said herpreserver, respectfully. she looked up at his dark, fierce face, andlaughed saucily. "i'm awful frightened," she said, naively; "whoever would have thoughtthat poncho would have been so scared by a lot of cows?" "thank god you kept your seat," the othersaid earnestly. he was a tall, savage-looking young fellow, mounted on a powerful roan horse,and clad in the rough dress of a hunter, with a long rifle slung over his shoulders. "iguess you are the daughter of john ferrier,"
he remarked, "i saw you ride down from hishouse. when you see him, ask him if he remembers the jefferson hopes of st. louis. if he'sthe same ferrier, my father and he were pretty thick." "hadn't you better come and ask yourself?"she asked, demurely. the young fellow seemed pleased at the suggestion,and his dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. "i'll do so," he said, "we've been in themountains for two months, and are not over and above in visiting condition. he must takeus as he finds us." "he has a good deal to thank you for, andso have i," she answered, "he's awful fond of me. if those cows had jumped on me he'dhave never got over it."
"neither would i," said her companion. "you! well, i don't see that it would makemuch matter to you, anyhow. you ain't even a friend of ours." the young hunter's dark face grew so gloomyover this remark that lucy ferrier laughed aloud. "there, i didn't mean that," she said; "ofcourse, you are a friend now. you must come and see us. now i must push along, or fatherwon't trust me with his business any more. good-bye!" "good-bye," he answered, raising his broadsombrero, and bending over her little hand.
she wheeled her mustang round, gave it a cutwith her riding-whip, and darted away down the broad road in a rolling cloud of dust. young jefferson hope rode on with his companions,gloomy and taciturn. he and they had been among the nevada mountains prospecting forsilver, and were returning to salt lake city in the hope of raising capital enough to worksome lodes which they had discovered. he had been as keen as any of them upon the businessuntil this sudden incident had drawn his thoughts into another channel. the sight of the fairyoung girl, as frank and wholesome as the sierra breezes, had stirred his volcanic,untamed heart to its very depths. when she had vanished from his sight, he realized thata crisis had come in his life, and that neither
silver speculations nor any other questionscould ever be of such importance to him as this new and all-absorbing one. the love whichhad sprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable fancy of a boy, but rather thewild, fierce passion of a man of strong will and imperious temper. he had been accustomedto succeed in all that he undertook. he swore in his heart that he would not fail in thisif human effort and human perseverance could render him successful. he called on john ferrier that night, andmany times again, until his face was a familiar one at the farm-house. john, cooped up inthe valley, and absorbed in his work, had had little chance of learning the news ofthe outside world during the last twelve years.
all this jefferson hope was able to tell him,and in a style which interested lucy as well as her father. he had been a pioneer in california,and could narrate many a strange tale of fortunes made and fortunes lost in those wild, halcyondays. he had been a scout too, and a trapper, a silver explorer, and a ranchman. whereverstirring adventures were to be had, jefferson hope had been there in search of them. hesoon became a favourite with the old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his virtues. on suchoccasions, lucy was silent, but her blushing cheek and her bright, happy eyes, showed onlytoo clearly that her young heart was no longer her own. her honest father may not have observedthese symptoms, but they were assuredly not thrown away upon the man who had won her affections.
it was a summer evening when he came gallopingdown the road and pulled up at the gate. she was at the doorway, and came down to meethim. he threw the bridle over the fence and strode up the pathway. "i am off, lucy," he said, taking her twohands in his, and gazing tenderly down into her face; "i won't ask you to come with menow, but will you be ready to come when i am here again?" "and when will that be?" she asked, blushingand laughing. "a couple of months at the outside. i willcome and claim you then, my darling. there's no one who can stand between us."
"and how about father?" she asked. "he has given his consent, provided we getthese mines working all right. i have no fear on that head." "oh, well; of course, if you and father havearranged it all, there's no more to be said," she whispered, with her cheek against hisbroad breast. "thank god!" he said, hoarsely, stooping andkissing her. "it is settled, then. the longer i stay, the harder it will be to go. theyare waiting for me at the caãƒâ±on. good-bye, my own darlingã¢â‚¬â€good-bye. in two months youshall see me." he tore himself from her as he spoke, and,flinging himself upon his horse, galloped
furiously away, never even looking round,as though afraid that his resolution might fail him if he took one glance at what hewas leaving. she stood at the gate, gazing after him until he vanished from her sight.then she walked back into the house, the happiest girl in all utah. chapter iii. john ferrier talks with the prophet. three weeks had passed since jefferson hopeand his comrades had departed from salt lake city. john ferrier's heart was sore withinhim when he thought of the young man's return, and of the impending loss of his adopted child.yet her bright and happy face reconciled him to the arrangement more than any argumentcould have done. he had always determined,
deep down in his resolute heart, that nothingwould ever induce him to allow his daughter to wed a mormon. such a marriage he regardedas no marriage at all, but as a shame and a disgrace. whatever he might think of themormon doctrines, upon that one point he was inflexible. he had to seal his mouth on thesubject, however, for to express an unorthodox opinion was a dangerous matter in those daysin the land of the saints. yes, a dangerous matterã¢â‚¬â€so dangerous thateven the most saintly dared only whisper their religious opinions with bated breath, lestsomething which fell from their lips might be misconstrued, and bring down a swift retributionupon them. the victims of persecution had now turned persecutors on their own account,and persecutors of the most terrible description.
not the inquisition of seville, nor the germanvehm-gericht, nor the secret societies of italy, were ever able to put a more formidablemachinery in motion than that which cast a cloud over the state of utah. its invisibility, and the mystery which wasattached to it, made this organization doubly terrible. it appeared to be omniscient andomnipotent, and yet was neither seen nor heard. the man who held out against the church vanishedaway, and none knew whither he had gone or what had befallen him. his wife and his childrenawaited him at home, but no father ever returned to tell them how he had fared at the handsof his secret judges. a rash word or a hasty act was followed by annihilation, and yetnone knew what the nature might be of this
terrible power which was suspended over them.no wonder that men went about in fear and trembling, and that even in the heart of thewilderness they dared not whisper the doubts which oppressed them. at first this vague and terrible power wasexercised only upon the recalcitrants who, having embraced the mormon faith, wished afterwardsto pervert or to abandon it. soon, however, it took a wider range. the supply of adultwomen was running short, and polygamy without a female population on which to draw was abarren doctrine indeed. strange rumours began to be bandied aboutã¢â‚¬â€rumours of murderedimmigrants and rifled camps in regions where indians had never been seen. fresh women appearedin the harems of the eldersã¢â‚¬â€women who pined
and wept, and bore upon their faces the tracesof an unextinguishable horror. belated wanderers upon the mountains spoke of gangs of armedmen, masked, stealthy, and noiseless, who flitted by them in the darkness. these talesand rumours took substance and shape, and were corroborated and re-corroborated, untilthey resolved themselves into a definite name. to this day, in the lonely ranches of thewest, the name of the danite band, or the avenging angels, is a sinister and an ill-omenedone. fuller knowledge of the organization whichproduced such terrible results served to increase rather than to lessen the horror which itinspired in the minds of men. none knew who belonged to this ruthless society. the namesof the participators in the deeds of blood
and violence done under the name of religionwere kept profoundly secret. the very friend to whom you communicated your misgivings asto the prophet and his mission, might be one of those who would come forth at night withfire and sword to exact a terrible reparation. hence every man feared his neighbour, andnone spoke of the things which were nearest his heart. one fine morning, john ferrier was about toset out to his wheatfields, when he heard the click of the latch, and, looking throughthe window, saw a stout, sandy-haired, middle-aged man coming up the pathway. his heart leaptto his mouth, for this was none other than the great brigham young himself. full of trepidationã¢â‚¬â€forhe knew that such a visit boded him little
goodã¢â‚¬â€ferrier ran to the door to greet themormon chief. the latter, however, received his salutations coldly, and followed him witha stern face into the sitting-room. "brother ferrier," he said, taking a seat,and eyeing the farmer keenly from under his light-coloured eyelashes, "the true believershave been good friends to you. we picked you up when you were starving in the desert, weshared our food with you, led you safe to the chosen valley, gave you a goodly shareof land, and allowed you to wax rich under our protection. is not this so?" "it is so," answered john ferrier. "in return for all this we asked but one condition:that was, that you should embrace the true
faith, and conform in every way to its usages.this you promised to do, and this, if common report says truly, you have neglected." "and how have i neglected it?" asked ferrier,throwing out his hands in expostulation. "have i not given to the common fund? have i notattended at the temple? have i notã¢â‚¬â€ã¢â‚¬â€?" "where are your wives?" asked young, lookinground him. "call them in, that i may greet them." "it is true that i have not married," ferrieranswered. "but women were few, and there were many who had better claims than i. i was nota lonely man: i had my daughter to attend to my wants."
"it is of that daughter that i would speakto you," said the leader of the mormons. "she has grown to be the flower of utah, and hasfound favour in the eyes of many who are high in the land." john ferrier groaned internally. "there are stories of her which i would faindisbelieveã¢â‚¬â€stories that she is sealed to some gentile. this must be the gossip of idletongues. what is the thirteenth rule in the code of the sainted joseph smith? 'let everymaiden of the true faith marry one of the elect; for if she wed a gentile, she commitsa grievous sin.' this being so, it is impossible that you, who profess the holy creed, shouldsuffer your daughter to violate it."
john ferrier made no answer, but he playednervously with his riding-whip. "upon this one point your whole faith shallbe testedã¢â‚¬â€so it has been decided in the sacred council of four. the girl is young,and we would not have her wed grey hairs, neither would we deprive her of all choice.we elders have many heifers, 29 but our children must also be provided. stangerson has a son,and drebber has a son, and either of them would gladly welcome your daughter to theirhouse. let her choose between them. they are young and rich, and of the true faith. whatsay you to that?" ferrier remained silent for some little timewith his brows knitted. "you will give us time," he said at last."my daughter is very youngã¢â‚¬â€she is scarce
of an age to marry." "she shall have a month to choose," said young,rising from his seat. "at the end of that time she shall give her answer." he was passing through the door, when he turned,with flushed face and flashing eyes. "it were better for you, john ferrier," he thundered,"that you and she were now lying blanched skeletons upon the sierra blanco, than thatyou should put your weak wills against the orders of the holy four!" with a threatening gesture of his hand, heturned from the door, and ferrier heard his heavy step scrunching along the shingly path.
he was still sitting with his elbows uponhis knees, considering how he should broach the matter to his daughter when a soft handwas laid upon his, and looking up, he saw her standing beside him. one glance at herpale, frightened face showed him that she had heard what had passed. "i could not help it," she said, in answerto his look. "his voice rang through the house. oh, father, father, what shall we do?" "don't you scare yourself," he answered, drawingher to him, and passing his broad, rough hand caressingly over her chestnut hair. "we'llfix it up somehow or another. you don't find your fancy kind o' lessening for this chap,do you?"
a sob and a squeeze of his hand was her onlyanswer. "no; of course not. i shouldn't care to hearyou say you did. he's a likely lad, and he's a christian, which is more than these folkhere, in spite o' all their praying and preaching. there's a party starting for nevada to-morrow,and i'll manage to send him a message letting him know the hole we are in. if i know anythingo' that young man, he'll be back here with a speed that would whip electro-telegraphs." lucy laughed through her tears at her father'sdescription. "when he comes, he will advise us for thebest. but it is for you that i am frightened, dear. one hearsã¢â‚¬â€one hears such dreadfulstories about those who oppose the prophet:
something terrible always happens to them." "but we haven't opposed him yet," her fatheranswered. "it will be time to look out for squalls when we do. we have a clear monthbefore us; at the end of that, i guess we had best shin out of utah." "leave utah!" "that's about the size of it." "but the farm?" "we will raise as much as we can in money,and let the rest go. to tell the truth, lucy, it isn't the first time i have thought ofdoing it. i don't care about knuckling under
to any man, as these folk do to their darnedprophet. i'm a free-born american, and it's all new to me. guess i'm too old to learn.if he comes browsing about this farm, he might chance to run up against a charge of buckshottravelling in the opposite direction." "but they won't let us leave," his daughterobjected. "wait till jefferson comes, and we'll soonmanage that. in the meantime, don't you fret yourself, my dearie, and don't get your eyesswelled up, else he'll be walking into me when he sees you. there's nothing to be afearedabout, and there's no danger at all." john ferrier uttered these consoling remarksin a very confident tone, but she could not help observing that he paid unusual care tothe fastening of the doors that night, and
that he carefully cleaned and loaded the rustyold shotgun which hung upon the wall of his bedroom. chapter iv. a flight for life. on the morning which followed his interviewwith the mormon prophet, john ferrier went in to salt lake city, and having found hisacquaintance, who was bound for the nevada mountains, he entrusted him with his messageto jefferson hope. in it he told the young man of the imminent danger which threatenedthem, and how necessary it was that he should return. having done thus he felt easier inhis mind, and returned home with a lighter heart.
as he approached his farm, he was surprisedto see a horse hitched to each of the posts of the gate. still more surprised was he onentering to find two young men in possession of his sitting-room. one, with a long paleface, was leaning back in the rocking-chair, with his feet cocked up upon the stove. theother, a bull-necked youth with coarse bloated features, was standing in front of the windowwith his hands in his pocket, whistling a popular hymn. both of them nodded to ferrieras he entered, and the one in the rocking-chair commenced the conversation. "maybe you don't know us," he said. "thishere is the son of elder drebber, and i'm joseph stangerson, who travelled with youin the desert when the lord stretched out
his hand and gathered you into the true fold." "as he will all the nations in his own goodtime," said the other in a nasal voice; "he grindeth slowly but exceeding small." john ferrier bowed coldly. he had guessedwho his visitors were. "we have come," continued stangerson, "atthe advice of our fathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for whichever of us may seemgood to you and to her. as i have but four wives and brother drebber here has seven,it appears to me that my claim is the stronger one." "nay, nay, brother stangerson," cried theother; "the question is not how many wives
we have, but how many we can keep. my fatherhas now given over his mills to me, and i am the richer man." "but my prospects are better," said the other,warmly. "when the lord removes my father, i shall have his tanning yard and his leatherfactory. then i am your elder, and am higher in the church." "it will be for the maiden to decide," rejoinedyoung drebber, smirking at his own reflection in the glass. "we will leave it all to herdecision." during this dialogue, john ferrier had stoodfuming in the doorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from the backs of his twovisitors.
"look here," he said at last, striding upto them, "when my daughter summons you, you can come, but until then i don't want to seeyour faces again." the two young mormons stared at him in amazement.in their eyes this competition between them for the maiden's hand was the highest of honoursboth to her and her father. "there are two ways out of the room," criedferrier; "there is the door, and there is the window. which do you care to use?" his brown face looked so savage, and his gaunthands so threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and beat a hurried retreat.the old farmer followed them to the door. "let me know when you have settled which itis to be," he said, sardonically.
"you shall smart for this!" stangerson cried,white with rage. "you have defied the prophet and the council of four. you shall rue itto the end of your days." "the hand of the lord shall be heavy uponyou," cried young drebber; "he will arise and smite you!" "then i'll start the smiting," exclaimed ferrierfuriously, and would have rushed upstairs for his gun had not lucy seized him by thearm and restrained him. before he could escape from her, the clatter of horses' hoofs toldhim that they were beyond his reach. "the young canting rascals!" he exclaimed,wiping the perspiration from his forehead; "i would sooner see you in your grave, mygirl, than the wife of either of them."
"and so should i, father," she answered, withspirit; "but jefferson will soon be here." "yes. it will not be long before he comes.the sooner the better, for we do not know what their next move may be." it was, indeed, high time that someone capableof giving advice and help should come to the aid of the sturdy old farmer and his adopteddaughter. in the whole history of the settlement there had never been such a case of rank disobedienceto the authority of the elders. if minor errors were punished so sternly, what would be thefate of this arch rebel. ferrier knew that his wealth and position would be of no availto him. others as well known and as rich as himself had been spirited away before now,and their goods given over to the church.
he was a brave man, but he trembled at thevague, shadowy terrors which hung over him. any known danger he could face with a firmlip, but this suspense was unnerving. he concealed his fears from his daughter, however, andaffected to make light of the whole matter, though she, with the keen eye of love, sawplainly that he was ill at ease. he expected that he would receive some messageor remonstrance from young as to his conduct, and he was not mistaken, though it came inan unlooked-for manner. upon rising next morning he found, to his surprise, a small squareof paper pinned on to the coverlet of his bed just over his chest. on it was printed,in bold straggling letters:ã¢â‚¬â€ "twenty-nine days are given you for amendment,and thenã¢â‚¬â€ã¢â‚¬â€"
the dash was more fear-inspiring than anythreat could have been. how this warning came into his room puzzled john ferrier sorely,for his servants slept in an outhouse, and the doors and windows had all been secured.he crumpled the paper up and said nothing to his daughter, but the incident struck achill into his heart. the twenty-nine days were evidently the balance of the month whichyoung had promised. what strength or courage could avail against an enemy armed with suchmysterious powers? the hand which fastened that pin might have struck him to the heart,and he could never have known who had slain him. still more shaken was he next morning. theyhad sat down to their breakfast when lucy
with a cry of surprise pointed upwards. inthe centre of the ceiling was scrawled, with a burned stick apparently, the number 28.to his daughter it was unintelligible, and he did not enlighten her. that night he satup with his gun and kept watch and ward. he saw and he heard nothing, and yet in the morninga great 27 had been painted upon the outside of his door. thus day followed day; and as sure as morningcame he found that his unseen enemies had kept their register, and had marked up insome conspicuous position how many days were still left to him out of the month of grace.sometimes the fatal numbers appeared upon the walls, sometimes upon the floors, occasionallythey were on small placards stuck upon the
garden gate or the railings. with all hisvigilance john ferrier could not discover whence these daily warnings proceeded. a horrorwhich was almost superstitious came upon him at the sight of them. he became haggard andrestless, and his eyes had the troubled look of some hunted creature. he had but one hopein life now, and that was for the arrival of the young hunter from nevada. twenty had changed to fifteen and fifteento ten, but there was no news of the absentee. one by one the numbers dwindled down, andstill there came no sign of him. whenever a horseman clattered down the road, or a drivershouted at his team, the old farmer hurried to the gate thinking that help had arrivedat last. at last, when he saw five give way
to four and that again to three, he lost heart,and abandoned all hope of escape. single-handed, and with his limited knowledge of the mountainswhich surrounded the settlement, he knew that he was powerless. the more-frequented roadswere strictly watched and guarded, and none could pass along them without an order fromthe council. turn which way he would, there appeared to be no avoiding the blow whichhung over him. yet the old man never wavered in his resolution to part with life itselfbefore he consented to what he regarded as his daughter's dishonour. he was sitting alone one evening ponderingdeeply over his troubles, and searching vainly for some way out of them. that morning hadshown the figure 2 upon the wall of his house,
and the next day would be the last of theallotted time. what was to happen then? all manner of vague and terrible fancies filledhis imagination. and his daughterã¢â‚¬â€what was to become of her after he was gone? was thereno escape from the invisible network which was drawn all round them. he sank his headupon the table and sobbed at the thought of his own impotence. what was that? in the silence he heard a gentlescratching soundã¢â‚¬â€low, but very distinct in the quiet of the night. it came from thedoor of the house. ferrier crept into the hall and listened intently. there was a pausefor a few moments, and then the low insidious sound was repeated. someone was evidentlytapping very gently upon one of the panels
of the door. was it some midnight assassinwho had come to carry out the murderous orders of the secret tribunal? or was it some agentwho was marking up that the last day of grace had arrived. john ferrier felt that instantdeath would be better than the suspense which shook his nerves and chilled his heart. springingforward he drew the bolt and threw the door open. outside all was calm and quiet. the nightwas fine, and the stars were twinkling brightly overhead. the little front garden lay beforethe farmer's eyes bounded by the fence and gate, but neither there nor on the road wasany human being to be seen. with a sigh of relief, ferrier looked to right and to left,until happening to glance straight down at
his own feet he saw to his astonishment aman lying flat upon his face upon the ground, with arms and legs all asprawl. so unnerved was he at the sight that he leanedup against the wall with his hand to his throat to stifle his inclination to call out. hisfirst thought was that the prostrate figure was that of some wounded or dying man, butas he watched it he saw it writhe along the ground and into the hall with the rapidityand noiselessness of a serpent. once within the house the man sprang to his feet, closedthe door, and revealed to the astonished farmer the fierce face and resolute expression ofjefferson hope. "good god!" gasped john ferrier. "how youscared me! whatever made you come in like
that." "give me food," the other said, hoarsely."i have had no time for bite or sup for eight-and-forty hours." he flung himself upon the 21 coldmeat and bread which were still lying upon the table from his host's supper, and devouredit voraciously. "does lucy bear up well?" he asked, when he had satisfied his hunger. "yes. she does not know the danger," her fatheranswered. "that is well. the house is watched on everyside. that is why i crawled my way up to it. they may be darned sharp, but they're notquite sharp enough to catch a washoe hunter." john ferrier felt a different man now thathe realized that he had a devoted ally. he
seized the young man's leathery hand and wrungit cordially. "you're a man to be proud of," he said. "there are not many who would cometo share our danger and our troubles." "you've hit it there, pard," the young hunteranswered. "i have a respect for you, but if you were alone in this business i'd thinktwice before i put my head into such a hornet's nest. it's lucy that brings me here, and beforeharm comes on her i guess there will be one less o' the hope family in utah." "what are we to do?" "to-morrow is your last day, and unless youact to-night you are lost. i have a mule and two horses waiting in the eagle ravine. howmuch money have you?"
"two thousand dollars in gold, and five innotes." "that will do. i have as much more to addto it. we must push for carson city through the mountains. you had best wake lucy. itis as well that the servants do not sleep in the house." while ferrier was absent, preparing his daughterfor the approaching journey, jefferson hope packed all the eatables that he could findinto a small parcel, and filled a stoneware jar with water, for he knew by experiencethat the mountain wells were few and far between. he had hardly completed his arrangements beforethe farmer returned with his daughter all dressed and ready for a start. the greetingbetween the lovers was warm, but brief, for
minutes were precious, and there was muchto be done. "we must make our start at once," said jeffersonhope, speaking in a low but resolute voice, like one who realizes the greatness of theperil, but has steeled his heart to meet it. "the front and back entrances are watched,but with caution we may get away through the side window and across the fields. once onthe road we are only two miles from the ravine where the horses are waiting. by daybreakwe should be half-way through the mountains." "what if we are stopped," asked ferrier. hope slapped the revolver butt which protrudedfrom the front of his tunic. "if they are too many for us we shall take two or threeof them with us," he said with a sinister
smile. the lights inside the house had all been extinguished,and from the darkened window ferrier peered over the fields which had been his own, andwhich he was now about to abandon for ever. he had long nerved himself to the sacrifice,however, and the thought of the honour and happiness of his daughter outweighed any regretat his ruined fortunes. all looked so peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broadsilent stretch of grain-land, that it was difficult to realize that the spirit of murderlurked through it all. yet the white face and set expression of the young hunter showedthat in his approach to the house he had seen enough to satisfy him upon that head.
ferrier carried the bag of gold and notes,jefferson hope had the scanty provisions and water, while lucy had a small bundle containinga few of her more valued possessions. opening the window very slowly and carefully, theywaited until a dark cloud had somewhat obscured the night, and then one by one passed throughinto the little garden. with bated breath and crouching figures they stumbled acrossit, and gained the shelter of the hedge, which they skirted until they came to the gap whichopened into the cornfields. they had just reached this point when the young man seizedhis two companions and dragged them down into the shadow, where they lay silent and trembling. it was as well that his prairie training hadgiven jefferson hope the ears of a lynx. he
and his friends had hardly crouched down beforethe melancholy hooting of a mountain owl was heard within a few yards of them, which wasimmediately answered by another hoot at a small distance. at the same moment a vagueshadowy figure emerged from the gap for which they had been making, and uttered the plaintivesignal cry again, on which a second man appeared out of the obscurity. "to-morrow at midnight," said the first whoappeared to be in authority. "when the whip-poor-will calls three times." "it is well," returned the other. "shall itell brother drebber?" "pass it on to him, and from him to the others.nine to seven!"
"seven to five!" repeated the other, and thetwo figures flitted away in different directions. their concluding words had evidently beensome form of sign and countersign. the instant that their footsteps had died away in thedistance, jefferson hope sprang to his feet, and helping his companions through the gap,led the way across the fields at the top of his speed, supporting and half-carrying thegirl when her strength appeared to fail her. "hurry on! hurry on!" he gasped from timeto time. "we are through the line of sentinels. everything depends on speed. hurry on!" once on the high road they made rapid progress.only once did they meet anyone, and then they managed to slip into a field, and so avoidrecognition. before reaching the town the
hunter branched away into a rugged and narrowfootpath which led to the mountains. two dark jagged peaks loomed above them through thedarkness, and the defile which led between them was the eagle caãƒâ±on in which the horseswere awaiting them. with unerring instinct jefferson hope picked his way among the greatboulders and along the bed of a dried-up watercourse, until he came to the retired corner, screenedwith rocks, where the faithful animals had been picketed. the girl was placed upon themule, and old ferrier upon one of the horses, with his money-bag, while jefferson hope ledthe other along the precipitous and dangerous path. it was a bewildering route for anyone whowas not accustomed to face nature in her wildest
moods. on the one side a great crag toweredup a thousand feet or more, black, stern, and menacing, with long basaltic columns uponits rugged surface like the ribs of some petrified monster. on the other hand a wild chaos ofboulders and debris made all advance impossible. between the two ran the irregular track, sonarrow in places that they had to travel in indian file, and so rough that only practisedriders could have traversed it at all. yet in spite of all dangers and difficulties,the hearts of the fugitives were light within them, for every step increased the distancebetween them and the terrible despotism from which they were flying. they soon had a proof, however, that theywere still within the jurisdiction of the
saints. they had reached the very wildestand most desolate portion of the pass when the girl gave a startled cry, and pointedupwards. on a rock which overlooked the track, showing out dark and plain against the sky,there stood a solitary sentinel. he saw them as soon as they perceived him, and his militarychallenge of "who goes there?" rang through the silent ravine. "travellers for nevada," said jefferson hope,with his hand upon the rifle which hung by his saddle. they could see the lonely watcher fingeringhis gun, and peering down at them as if dissatisfied at their reply.
"by whose permission?" he asked. "the holy four," answered ferrier. his mormonexperiences had taught him that that was the highest authority to which he could refer. "nine from seven," cried the sentinel. "seven from five," returned jefferson hopepromptly, remembering the countersign which he had heard in the garden. "pass, and the lord go with you," said thevoice from above. beyond his post the path broadened out, and the horses were able tobreak into a trot. looking back, they could see the solitary watcher leaning upon hisgun, and knew that they had passed the outlying
post of the chosen people, and that freedomlay before them. chapter v. the avenging angels. all night their course lay through intricatedefiles and over irregular and rock-strewn paths. more than once they lost their way,but hope's intimate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the track once more.when morning broke, a scene of marvellous though savage beauty lay before them. in everydirection the great snow-capped peaks hemmed them in, peeping over each other's shouldersto the far horizon. so steep were the rocky banks on either side of them, that the larchand the pine seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to need only a gust of wind tocome hurtling down upon them. nor was the
fear entirely an illusion, for the barrenvalley was thickly strewn with trees and boulders which had fallen in a similar manner. evenas they passed, a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse rattle which woke the echoesin the silent gorges, and startled the weary horses into a gallop. as the sun rose slowly above the eastern horizon,the caps of the great mountains lit up one after the other, like lamps at a festival,until they were all ruddy and glowing. the magnificent spectacle cheered the hearts ofthe three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. at a wild torrent which swept out of a ravinethey called a halt and watered their horses, while they partook of a hasty breakfast. lucyand her father would fain have rested longer,
but jefferson hope was inexorable. "they willbe upon our track by this time," he said. "everything depends upon our speed. once safein carson we may rest for the remainder of our lives." during the whole of that day they struggledon through the defiles, and by evening they calculated that they were more than thirtymiles from their enemies. at night-time they chose the base of a beetling crag, where therocks offered some protection from the chill wind, and there huddled together for warmth,they enjoyed a few hours' sleep. before daybreak, however, they were up and on their way oncemore. they had seen no signs of any pursuers, and jefferson hope began to think that theywere fairly out of the reach of the terrible
organization whose enmity they had incurred.he little knew how far that iron grasp could reach, or how soon it was to close upon themand crush them. about the middle of the second day of theirflight their scanty store of provisions began to run out. this gave the hunter little uneasiness,however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he had frequently beforehad to depend upon his rifle for the needs of life. choosing a sheltered nook, he piledtogether a few dried branches and made a blazing fire, at which his companions might warm themselves,for they were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, and the air was bitterand keen. having tethered the horses, and bade lucy adieu, he threw his gun over hisshoulder, and set out in search of whatever
chance might throw in his way. looking backhe saw the old man and the young girl crouching over the blazing fire, while the three animalsstood motionless in the back-ground. then the intervening rocks hid them from his view. he walked for a couple of miles through oneravine after another without success, though from the marks upon the bark of the trees,and other indications, he judged that there were numerous bears in the vicinity. at last,after two or three hours' fruitless search, he was thinking of turning back in despair,when casting his eyes upwards he saw a sight which sent a thrill of pleasure through hisheart. on the edge of a jutting pinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, therestood a creature somewhat resembling a sheep
in appearance, but armed with a pair of gigantichorns. the big-hornã¢â‚¬â€for so it is calledã¢â‚¬â€was acting, probably, as a guardian over a flockwhich were invisible to the hunter; but fortunately it was heading in the opposite direction,and had not perceived him. lying on his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and tooka long and steady aim before drawing the trigger. the animal sprang into the air, tottered fora moment upon the edge of the precipice, and then came crashing down into the valley beneath. the creature was too unwieldy to lift, sothe hunter contented himself with cutting away one haunch and part of the flank. withthis trophy over his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening wasalready drawing in. he had hardly started,
however, before he realized the difficultywhich faced him. in his eagerness he had wandered far past the ravines which were known to him,and it was no easy matter to pick out the path which he had taken. the valley in whichhe found himself divided and sub-divided into many gorges, which were so like each otherthat it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. he followed one for a mileor more until he came to a mountain torrent which he was sure that he had never seen before.convinced that he had taken the wrong turn, he tried another, but with the same result.night was coming on rapidly, and it was almost dark before he at last found himself in adefile which was familiar to him. even then it was no easy matter to keep to the righttrack, for the moon had not yet risen, and
the high cliffs on either side made the obscuritymore profound. weighed down with his burden, and weary from his exertions, he stumbledalong, keeping up his heart by the reflection that every step brought him nearer to lucy,and that he carried with him enough to ensure them food for the remainder of their journey. he had now come to the mouth of the very defilein which he had left them. even in the darkness he could recognize the outline of the cliffswhich bounded it. they must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously, for he had beenabsent nearly five hours. in the gladness of his heart he put his hands to his mouthand made the glen re-echo to a loud halloo as a signal that he was coming. he pausedand listened for an answer. none came save
his own cry, which clattered up the drearysilent ravines, and was borne back to his ears in countless repetitions. again he shouted,even louder than before, and again no whisper came back from the friends whom he had leftsuch a short time ago. a vague, nameless dread came over him, and he hurried onwards frantically,dropping the precious food in his agitation. when he turned the corner, he came full insight of the spot where the fire had been lit. there was still a glowing pile of woodashes there, but it had evidently not been tended since his departure. the same deadsilence still reigned all round. with his fears all changed to convictions, he hurriedon. there was no living creature near the remains of the fire: animals, man, maiden,all were gone. it was only too clear that
some sudden and terrible disaster had occurredduring his absenceã¢â‚¬â€a disaster which had embraced them all, and yet had left no tracesbehind it. bewildered and stunned by this blow, jeffersonhope felt his head spin round, and had to lean upon his rifle to save himself from falling.he was essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered from his temporaryimpotence. seizing a half-consumed piece of wood from the smouldering fire, he blew itinto a flame, and proceeded with its help to examine the little camp. the ground wasall stamped down by the feet of horses, showing that a large party of mounted men had overtakenthe fugitives, and the direction of their tracks proved that they had afterwards turnedback to salt lake city. had they carried back
both of his companions with them? jeffersonhope had almost persuaded himself that they must have done so, when his eye fell uponan object which made every nerve of his body tingle within him. a little way on one sideof the camp was a low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly not been there before.there was no mistaking it for anything but a newly-dug grave. as the young hunter approachedit, he perceived that a stick had been planted on it, with a sheet of paper stuck in thecleft fork of it. the inscription upon the paper was brief, but to the point: john ferrier,formerly of salt lake city, 22 died august 4th, 1860.
the sturdy old man, whom he had left so shorta time before, was gone, then, and this was all his epitaph. jefferson hope looked wildlyround to see if there was a second grave, but there was no sign of one. lucy had beencarried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfil her original destiny, by becoming oneof the harem of the elder's son. as the young fellow realized the certainty of her fate,and his own powerlessness to prevent it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the oldfarmer in his last silent resting-place. again, however, his active spirit shook offthe lethargy which springs from despair. if there was nothing else left to him, he couldat least devote his life to revenge. with indomitable patience and perseverance, jeffersonhope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness,
which he may have learned from the indiansamongst whom he had lived. as he stood by the desolate fire, he felt that the only onething which could assuage his grief would be thorough and complete retribution, broughtby his own hand upon his enemies. his strong will and untiring energy should, he determined,be devoted to that one end. with a grim, white face, he retraced his steps to where he haddropped the food, and having stirred up the smouldering fire, he cooked enough to lasthim for a few days. this he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was, he set himselfto walk back through the mountains upon the track of the avenging angels. for five days he toiled footsore and wearythrough the defiles which he had already traversed
on horseback. at night he flung himself downamong the rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak he was alwayswell on his way. on the sixth day, he reached the eagle caãƒâ±on, from which they had commencedtheir ill-fated flight. thence he could look down upon the home of the saints. worn andexhausted, he leaned upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silent widespreadcity beneath him. as he looked at it, he observed that there were flags in some of the principalstreets, and other signs of festivity. he was still speculating as to what this mightmean when he heard the clatter of horse's hoofs, and saw a mounted man riding towardshim. as he approached, he recognized him as a mormon named cowper, to whom he had renderedservices at different times. he therefore
accosted him when he got up to him, with theobject of finding out what lucy ferrier's fate had been. "i am jefferson hope," he said. "you rememberme." the mormon looked at him with undisguisedastonishmentã¢â‚¬â€indeed, it was difficult to recognize in this tattered, unkempt wanderer,with ghastly white face and fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of former days. having,however, at last, satisfied himself as to his identity, the man's surprise changed toconsternation. "you are mad to come here," he cried. "itis as much as my own life is worth to be seen talking with you. there is a warrant againstyou from the holy four for assisting the ferriers
away." "i don't fear them, or their warrant," hopesaid, earnestly. "you must know something of this matter, cowper. i conjure you by everythingyou hold dear to answer a few questions. we have always been friends. for god's sake,don't refuse to answer me." "what is it?" the mormon asked uneasily. "bequick. the very rocks have ears and the trees eyes." "what has become of lucy ferrier?" "she was married yesterday to young drebber.hold up, man, hold up, you have no life left in you."
"don't mind me," said hope faintly. he waswhite to the very lips, and had sunk down on the stone against which he had been leaning."married, you say?" "married yesterdayã¢â‚¬â€that's what those flagsare for on the endowment house. there was some words between young drebber and youngstangerson as to which was to have her. they'd both been in the party that followed them,and stangerson had shot her father, which seemed to give him the best claim; but whenthey argued it out in council, drebber's party was the stronger, so the prophet gave herover to him. no one won't have her very long though, for i saw death in her face yesterday.she is more like a ghost than a woman. are you off, then?"
"yes, i am off," said jefferson hope, whohad risen from his seat. his face might have been chiselled out of marble, so hard andset was its expression, while its eyes glowed with a baleful light. "where are you going?" "never mind," he answered; and, slinging hisweapon over his shoulder, strode off down the gorge and so away into the heart of themountains to the haunts of the wild beasts. amongst them all there was none so fierceand so dangerous as himself. the prediction of the mormon was only toowell fulfilled. whether it was the terrible death of her father or the effects of thehateful marriage into which she had been forced,
poor lucy never held up her head again, butpined away and died within a month. her sottish husband, who had married her principally forthe sake of john ferrier's property, did not affect any great grief at his bereavement;but his other wives mourned over her, and sat up with her the night before the burial,as is the mormon custom. they were grouped round the bier in the early hours of the morning,when, to their inexpressible fear and astonishment, the door was flung open, and a savage-looking,weather-beaten man in tattered garments strode into the room. without a glance or a wordto the cowering women, he walked up to the white silent figure which had once containedthe pure soul of lucy ferrier. stooping over her, he pressed his lips reverently to hercold forehead, and then, snatching up her
hand, he took the wedding-ring from her finger."she shall not be buried in that," he cried with a fierce snarl, and before an alarm couldbe raised sprang down the stairs and was gone. so strange and so brief was the episode, thatthe watchers might have found it hard to believe it themselves or persuade other people ofit, had it not been for the undeniable fact that the circlet of gold which marked heras having been a bride had disappeared. for some months jefferson hope lingered amongthe mountains, leading a strange wild life, and nursing in his heart the fierce desirefor vengeance which possessed him. tales were told in the city of the weird figure whichwas seen prowling about the suburbs, and which haunted the lonely mountain gorges. once abullet whistled through stangerson's window
and flattened itself upon the wall withina foot of him. on another occasion, as drebber passed under a cliff a great boulder crasheddown on him, and he only escaped a terrible death by throwing himself upon his face. thetwo young mormons were not long in discovering the reason of these attempts upon their lives,and led repeated expeditions into the mountains in the hope of capturing or killing theirenemy, but always without success. then they adopted the precaution of never going outalone or after nightfall, and of having their houses guarded. after a time they were ableto relax these measures, for nothing was either heard or seen of their opponent, and theyhoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness. far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmentedit. the hunter's mind was of a hard, unyielding
nature, and the predominant idea of revengehad taken such complete possession of it that there was no room for any other emotion. hewas, however, above all things practical. he soon realized that even his iron constitutioncould not stand the incessant strain which he was putting upon it. exposure and wantof wholesome food were wearing him out. if he died like a dog among the mountains, whatwas to become of his revenge then? and yet such a death was sure to overtake him if hepersisted. he felt that that was to play his enemy's game, so he reluctantly returned tothe old nevada mines, there to recruit his health and to amass money enough to allowhim to pursue his object without privation. his intention had been to be absent a yearat the most, but a combination of unforeseen
circumstances prevented his leaving the minesfor nearly five. at the end of that time, however, his memory of his wrongs and hiscraving for revenge were quite as keen as on that memorable night when he had stoodby john ferrier's grave. disguised, and under an assumed name, he returned to salt lakecity, careless what became of his own life, as long as he obtained what he knew to bejustice. there he found evil tidings awaiting him. there had been a schism among the chosenpeople a few months before, some of the younger members of the church having rebelled againstthe authority of the elders, and the result had been the secession of a certain numberof the malcontents, who had left utah and become gentiles. among these had been drebberand stangerson; and no one knew whither they
had gone. rumour reported that drebber hadmanaged to convert a large part of his property into money, and that he had departed a wealthyman, while his companion, stangerson, was comparatively poor. there was no clue at all,however, as to their whereabouts. many a man, however vindictive, would haveabandoned all thought of revenge in the face of such a difficulty, but jefferson hope neverfaltered for a moment. with the small competence he possessed, eked out by such employmentas he could pick up, he travelled from town to town through the united states in questof his enemies. year passed into year, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he wanderedon, a human bloodhound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object upon which he haddevoted his life. at last his perseverance
was rewarded. it was but a glance of a facein a window, but that one glance told him that cleveland in ohio possessed the men whomhe was in pursuit of. he returned to his miserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance all arranged.it chanced, however, that drebber, looking from his window, had recognized the vagrantin the street, and had read murder in his eyes. he hurried before a justice of the peace,accompanied by stangerson, who had become his private secretary, and represented tohim that they were in danger of their lives from the jealousy and hatred of an old rival.that evening jefferson hope was taken into custody, and not being able to find sureties,was detained for some weeks. when at last he was liberated, it was only to find thatdrebber's house was deserted, and that he
and his secretary had departed for europe. again the avenger had been foiled, and againhis concentrated hatred urged him to continue the pursuit. funds were wanting, however,and for some time he had to return to work, saving every dollar for his approaching journey.at last, having collected enough to keep life in him, he departed for europe, and trackedhis enemies from city to city, working his way in any menial capacity, but never overtakingthe fugitives. when he reached st. petersburg they had departed for paris; and when he followedthem there he learned that they had just set off for copenhagen. at the danish capitalhe was again a few days late, for they had journeyed on to london, where he at last succeededin running them to earth. as to what occurred
there, we cannot do better than quote theold hunter's own account, as duly recorded in dr. watson's journal, to which we are alreadyunder such obligations. chapter vi. a continuation of the reminiscencesof john watson, m.d. our prisoner's furious resistance did notapparently indicate any ferocity in his disposition towards ourselves, for on finding himselfpowerless, he smiled in an affable manner, and expressed his hopes that he had not hurtany of us in the scuffle. "i guess you're going to take me to the police-station," heremarked to sherlock holmes. "my cab's at the door. if you'll loose my legs i'll walkdown to it. i'm not so light to lift as i used to be."
gregson and lestrade exchanged glances asif they thought this proposition rather a bold one; but holmes at once took the prisonerat his word, and loosened the towel which we had bound round his ancles. 23 he roseand stretched his legs, as though to assure himself that they were free once more. i rememberthat i thought to myself, as i eyed him, that i had seldom seen a more powerfully builtman; and his dark sunburned face bore an expression of determination and energy which was as formidableas his personal strength. "if there's a vacant place for a chief ofthe police, i reckon you are the man for it," he said, gazing with undisguised admirationat my fellow-lodger. "the way you kept on my trail was a caution."
"you had better come with me," said holmesto the two detectives. "i can drive you," said lestrade. "good! and gregson can come inside with me.you too, doctor, you have taken an interest in the case and may as well stick to us." i assented gladly, and we all descended together.our prisoner made no attempt at escape, but stepped calmly into the cab which had beenhis, and we followed him. lestrade mounted the box, whipped up the horse, and broughtus in a very short time to our destination. we were ushered into a small chamber wherea police inspector noted down our prisoner's name and the names of the men with whose murderhe had been charged. the official was a white-faced
unemotional man, who went through his dutiesin a dull mechanical way. "the prisoner will be put before the magistrates in the courseof the week," he said; "in the mean time, mr. jefferson hope, have you anything thatyou wish to say? i must warn you that your words will be taken down, and may be usedagainst you." "i've got a good deal to say," our prisonersaid slowly. "i want to tell you gentlemen all about it." "hadn't you better reserve that for your trial?"asked the inspector. "i may never be tried," he answered. "youneedn't look startled. it isn't suicide i am thinking of. are you a doctor?" he turnedhis fierce dark eyes upon me as he asked this
last question. "yes; i am," i answered. "then put your hand here," he said, with asmile, motioning with his manacled wrists towards his chest. i did so; and became at once conscious ofan extraordinary throbbing and commotion which was going on inside. the walls of his chestseemed to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some powerful enginewas at work. in the silence of the room i could hear a dull humming and buzzing noisewhich proceeded from the same source. "why," i cried, "you have an aortic aneurism!"
"that's what they call it," he said, placidly."i went to a doctor last week about it, and he told me that it is bound to burst beforemany days passed. it has been getting worse for years. i got it from over-exposure andunder-feeding among the salt lake mountains. i've done my work now, and i don't care howsoon i go, but i should like to leave some account of the business behind me. i don'twant to be remembered as a common cut-throat." the inspector and the two detectives had ahurried discussion as to the advisability of allowing him to tell his story. "do you consider, doctor, that there is immediatedanger?" the former asked, 24 "most certainly there is," i answered.
"in that case it is clearly our duty, in theinterests of justice, to take his statement," said the inspector. "you are at liberty, sir,to give your account, which i again warn you will be taken down." "i'll sit down, with your leave," the prisonersaid, suiting the action to the word. "this aneurism of mine makes me easily tired, andthe tussle we had half an hour ago has not mended matters. i'm on the brink of the grave,and i am not likely to lie to you. every word i say is the absolute truth, and how you useit is a matter of no consequence to me." with these words, jefferson hope leaned backin his chair and began the following remarkable statement. he spoke in a calm and methodicalmanner, as though the events which he narrated
were commonplace enough. i can vouch for theaccuracy of the subjoined account, for i have had access to lestrade's note-book, in whichthe prisoner's words were taken down exactly as they were uttered. "it don't much matter to you why i hated thesemen," he said; "it's enough that they were guilty of the death of two human beingsã¢â‚¬â€afather and a daughterã¢â‚¬â€and that they had, therefore, forfeited their own lives. afterthe lapse of time that has passed since their crime, it was impossible for me to securea conviction against them in any court. i knew of their guilt though, and i determinedthat i should be judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one. you'd have done the same,if you have any manhood in you, if you had
been in my place. "that girl that i spoke of was to have marriedme twenty years ago. she was forced into marrying that same drebber, and broke her heart overit. i took the marriage ring from her dead finger, and i vowed that his dying eyes shouldrest upon that very ring, and that his last thoughts should be of the crime for whichhe was punished. i have carried it about with me, and have followed him and his accompliceover two continents until i caught them. they thought to tire me out, but they could notdo it. if i die to-morrow, as is likely enough, i die knowing that my work in this world isdone, and well done. they have perished, and by my hand. there is nothing left for me tohope for, or to desire.
"they were rich and i was poor, so that itwas no easy matter for me to follow them. when i got to london my pocket was about empty,and i found that i must turn my hand to something for my living. driving and riding are as naturalto me as walking, so i applied at a cabowner's office, and soon got employment. i was tobring a certain sum a week to the owner, and whatever was over that i might keep for myself.there was seldom much over, but i managed to scrape along somehow. the hardest job wasto learn my way about, for i reckon that of all the mazes that ever were contrived, thiscity is the most confusing. i had a map beside me though, and when once i had spotted theprincipal hotels and stations, i got on pretty well.
"it was some time before i found out wheremy two gentlemen were living; but i inquired and inquired until at last i dropped acrossthem. they were at a boarding-house at camberwell, over on the other side of the river. whenonce i found them out i knew that i had them at my mercy. i had grown my beard, and therewas no chance of their recognizing me. i would dog them and follow them until i saw my opportunity.i was determined that they should not escape me again. "they were very near doing it for all that.go where they would about london, i was always at their heels. sometimes i followed themon my cab, and sometimes on foot, but the former was the best, for then they could notget away from me. it was only early in the
morning or late at night that i could earnanything, so that i began to get behind hand with my employer. i did not mind that, however,as long as i could lay my hand upon the men i wanted. "they were very cunning, though. they musthave thought that there was some chance of their being followed, for they would nevergo out alone, and never after nightfall. during two weeks i drove behind them every day, andnever once saw them separate. drebber himself was drunk half the time, but stangerson wasnot to be caught napping. i watched them late and early, but never saw the ghost of a chance;but i was not discouraged, for something told me that the hour had almost come. my onlyfear was that this thing in my chest might
burst a little too soon and leave my workundone. "at last, one evening i was driving up anddown torquay terrace, as the street was called in which they boarded, when i saw a cab driveup to their door. presently some luggage was brought out, and after a time drebber andstangerson followed it, and drove off. i whipped up my horse and kept within sight of them,feeling very ill at ease, for i feared that they were going to shift their quarters. ateuston station they got out, and i left a boy to hold my horse, and followed them onto the platform. i heard them ask for the liverpool train, and the guard answer thatone had just gone and there would not be another for some hours. stangerson seemed to be putout at that, but drebber was rather pleased
than otherwise. i got so close to them inthe bustle that i could hear every word that passed between them. drebber said that hehad a little business of his own to do, and that if the other would wait for him he wouldsoon rejoin him. his companion remonstrated with him, and reminded him that they had resolvedto stick together. drebber answered that the matter was a delicate one, and that he mustgo alone. i could not catch what stangerson said to that, but the other burst out swearing,and reminded him that he was nothing more than his paid servant, and that he must notpresume to dictate to him. on that the secretary gave it up as a bad job, and simply bargainedwith him that if he missed the last train he should rejoin him at halliday's privatehotel; to which drebber answered that he would
be back on the platform before eleven, andmade his way out of the station. "the moment for which i had waited so longhad at last come. i had my enemies within my power. together they could protect eachother, but singly they were at my mercy. i did not act, however, with undue precipitation.my plans were already formed. there is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offenderhas time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution has come upon him.i had my plans arranged by which i should have the opportunity of making the man whohad wronged me understand that his old sin had found him out. it chanced that some daysbefore a gentleman who had been engaged in looking over some houses in the brixton roadhad dropped the key of one of them in my carriage.
it was claimed that same evening, and returned;but in the interval i had taken a moulding of it, and had a duplicate constructed. bymeans of this i had access to at least one spot in this great city where i could relyupon being free from interruption. how to get drebber to that house was the difficultproblem which i had now to solve. "he walked down the road and went into oneor two liquor shops, staying for nearly half-an-hour in the last of them. when he came out he staggeredin his walk, and was evidently pretty well on. there was a hansom just in front of me,and he hailed it. i followed it so close that the nose of my horse was within a yard ofhis driver the whole way. we rattled across waterloo bridge and through miles of streets,until, to my astonishment, we found ourselves
back in the terrace in which he had boarded.i could not imagine what his intention was in returning there; but i went on and pulledup my cab a hundred yards or so from the house. he entered it, and his hansom drove away.give me a glass of water, if you please. my mouth gets dry with the talking." i handed him the glass, and he drank it down. "that's better," he said. "well, i waitedfor a quarter of an hour, or more, when suddenly there came a noise like people strugglinginside the house. next moment the door was flung open and two men appeared, one of whomwas drebber, and the other was a young chap whom i had never seen before. this fellowhad drebber by the collar, and when they came
to the head of the steps he gave him a shoveand a kick which sent him half across the road. 'you hound,' he cried, shaking his stickat him; 'i'll teach you to insult an honest girl!' he was so hot that i think he wouldhave thrashed drebber with his cudgel, only that the cur staggered away down the roadas fast as his legs would carry him. he ran as far as the corner, and then, seeing mycab, he hailed me and jumped in. 'drive me to halliday's private hotel,' said he. "when i had him fairly inside my cab, my heartjumped so with joy that i feared lest at this last moment my aneurism might go wrong. idrove along slowly, weighing in my own mind what it was best to do. i might take him rightout into the country, and there in some deserted
lane have my last interview with him. i hadalmost decided upon this, when he solved the problem for me. the craze for drink had seizedhim again, and he ordered me to pull up outside a gin palace. he went in, leaving word thati should wait for him. there he remained until closing time, and when he came out he wasso far gone that i knew the game was in my own hands. "don't imagine that i intended to kill himin cold blood. it would only have been rigid justice if i had done so, but i could notbring myself to do it. i had long determined that he should have a show for his life ifhe chose to take advantage of it. among the many billets which i have filled in americaduring my wandering life, i was once janitor
and sweeper out of the laboratory at yorkcollege. one day the professor was lecturing on poisions, 25 and he showed his studentssome alkaloid, as he called it, which he had extracted from some south american arrow poison,and which was so powerful that the least grain meant instant death. i spotted the bottlein which this preparation was kept, and when they were all gone, i helped myself to a littleof it. i was a fairly good dispenser, so i worked this alkaloid into small, soluble pills,and each pill i put in a box with a similar pill made without the poison. i determinedat the time that when i had my chance, my gentlemen should each have a draw out of oneof these boxes, while i ate the pill that remained. it would be quite as deadly, anda good deal less noisy than firing across
a handkerchief. from that day i had alwaysmy pill boxes about with me, and the time had now come when i was to use them. "it was nearer one than twelve, and a wild,bleak night, blowing hard and raining in torrents. dismal as it was outside, i was glad withinã¢â‚¬â€soglad that i could have shouted out from pure exultation. if any of you gentlemen have everpined for a thing, and longed for it during twenty long years, and then suddenly foundit within your reach, you would understand my feelings. i lit a cigar, and puffed atit to steady my nerves, but my hands were trembling, and my temples throbbing with excitement.as i drove, i could see old john ferrier and sweet lucy looking at me out of the darknessand smiling at me, just as plain as i see
you all in this room. all the way they wereahead of me, one on each side of the horse until i pulled up at the house in the brixtonroad. "there was not a soul to be seen, nor a soundto be heard, except the dripping of the rain. when i looked in at the window, i found drebberall huddled together in a drunken sleep. i shook him by the arm, 'it's time to get out,'i said. "'all right, cabby,' said he. "i suppose he thought we had come to the hotelthat he had mentioned, for he got out without another word, and followed me down the garden.i had to walk beside him to keep him steady, for he was still a little top-heavy. whenwe came to the door, i opened it, and led
him into the front room. i give you my wordthat all the way, the father and the daughter were walking in front of us. "'it's infernally dark,' said he, stampingabout. "'we'll soon have a light,' i said, strikinga match and putting it to a wax candle which i had brought with me. 'now, enoch drebber,'i continued, turning to him, and holding the light to my own face, 'who am i?' "he gazed at me with bleared, drunken eyesfor a moment, and then i saw a horror spring up in them, and convulse his whole features,which showed me that he knew me. he staggered back with a livid face, and i saw the perspirationbreak out upon his brow, while his teeth chattered
in his head. at the sight, i leaned my backagainst the door and laughed loud and long. i had always known that vengeance would besweet, but i had never hoped for the contentment of soul which now possessed me. "'you dog!' i said; 'i have hunted you fromsalt lake city to st. petersburg, and you have always escaped me. now, at last yourwanderings have come to an end, for either you or i shall never see to-morrow's sun rise.'he shrunk still further away as i spoke, and i could see on his face that he thought iwas mad. so i was for the time. the pulses in my temples beat like sledge-hammers, andi believe i would have had a fit of some sort if the blood had not gushed from my nose andrelieved me.
"'what do you think of lucy ferrier now?'i cried, locking the door, and shaking the key in his face. 'punishment has been slowin coming, but it has overtaken you at last.' i saw his coward lips tremble as i spoke.he would have begged for his life, but he knew well that it was useless. "'would you murder me?' he stammered. "'there is no murder,' i answered. 'who talksof murdering a mad dog? what mercy had you upon my poor darling, when you dragged herfrom her slaughtered father, and bore her away to your accursed and shameless harem.' "'it was not i who killed her father,' hecried.
"'but it was you who broke her innocent heart,'i shrieked, thrusting the box before him. 'let the high god judge between us. chooseand eat. there is death in one and life in the other. i shall take what you leave. letus see if there is justice upon the earth, or if we are ruled by chance.' "he cowered away with wild cries and prayersfor mercy, but i drew my knife and held it to his throat until he had obeyed me. theni swallowed the other, and we stood facing one another in silence for a minute or more,waiting to see which was to live and which was to die. shall i ever forget the look whichcame over his face when the first warning pangs told him that the poison was in hissystem? i laughed as i saw it, and held lucy's
marriage ring in front of his eyes. it wasbut for a moment, for the action of the alkaloid is rapid. a spasm of pain contorted his features;he threw his hands out in front of him, staggered, and then, with a hoarse cry, fell heavilyupon the floor. i turned him over with my foot, and placed my hand upon his heart. therewas no movement. he was dead! "the blood had been streaming from my nose,but i had taken no notice of it. i don't know what it was that put it into my head to writeupon the wall with it. perhaps it was some mischievous idea of setting the police upona wrong track, for i felt light-hearted and cheerful. i remembered a german being foundin new york with rache written up above him, and it was argued at the time in the newspapersthat the secret societies must have done it.
i guessed that what puzzled the new yorkerswould puzzle the londoners, so i dipped my finger in my own blood and printed it on aconvenient place on the wall. then i walked down to my cab and found that there was nobodyabout, and that the night was still very wild. i had driven some distance when i put my handinto the pocket in which i usually kept lucy's ring, and found that it was not there. i wasthunderstruck at this, for it was the only memento that i had of her. thinking that imight have dropped it when i stooped over drebber's body, i drove back, and leavingmy cab in a side street, i went boldly up to the houseã¢â‚¬â€for i was ready to dare anythingrather than lose the ring. when i arrived there, i walked right into the arms of a police-officerwho was coming out, and only managed to disarm
his suspicions by pretending to be hopelesslydrunk. "that was how enoch drebber came to his end.all i had to do then was to do as much for stangerson, and so pay off john ferrier'sdebt. i knew that he was staying at halliday's private hotel, and i hung about all day, buthe never came out. 26 fancy that he suspected something when drebber failed to put in anappearance. he was cunning, was stangerson, and always on his guard. if he thought hecould keep me off by staying indoors he was very much mistaken. i soon found out whichwas the window of his bedroom, and early next morning i took advantage of some ladders whichwere lying in the lane behind the hotel, and so made my way into his room in the grey ofthe dawn. i woke him up and told him that
the hour had come when he was to answer forthe life he had taken so long before. i described drebber's death to him, and i gave him thesame choice of the poisoned pills. instead of grasping at the chance of safety whichthat offered him, he sprang from his bed and flew at my throat. in self-defence i stabbedhim to the heart. it would have been the same in any case, for providence would never haveallowed his guilty hand to pick out anything but the poison. "i have little more to say, and it's as well,for i am about done up. i went on cabbing it for a day or so, intending to keep at ituntil i could save enough to take me back to america. i was standing in the yard whena ragged youngster asked if there was a cabby
there called jefferson hope, and said thathis cab was wanted by a gentleman at 221b, baker street. i went round, suspecting noharm, and the next thing i knew, this young man here had the bracelets on my wrists, andas neatly snackled 27 as ever i saw in my life. that's the whole of my story, gentlemen.you may consider me to be a murderer; but i hold that i am just as much an officer ofjustice as you are." so thrilling had the man's narrative been,and his manner was so impressive that we had sat silent and absorbed. even the professionaldetectives, blasãƒâ© as they were in every detail of crime, appeared to be keenly interestedin the man's story. when he finished we sat for some minutes in a stillness which wasonly broken by the scratching of lestrade's
pencil as he gave the finishing touches tohis shorthand account. "there is only one point on which i shouldlike a little more information," sherlock holmes said at last. "who was your accomplicewho came for the ring which i advertised?" the prisoner winked at my friend jocosely."i can tell my own secrets," he said, "but i don't get other people into trouble. i sawyour advertisement, and i thought it might be a plant, or it might be the ring whichi wanted. my friend volunteered to go and see. i think you'll own he did it smartly." "not a doubt of that," said holmes heartily. "now, gentlemen," the inspector remarked gravely,"the forms of the law must be complied with.
on thursday the prisoner will be brought beforethe magistrates, and your attendance will be required. until then i will be responsiblefor him." he rang the bell as he spoke, and jefferson hope was led off by a couple ofwarders, while my friend and i made our way out of the station and took a cab back tobaker street. chapter vii. the conclusion. we had all been warned to appear before themagistrates upon the thursday; but when the thursday came there was no occasion for ourtestimony. a higher judge had taken the matter in hand, and jefferson hope had been summonedbefore a tribunal where strict justice would be meted out to him. on the very night afterhis capture the aneurism burst, and he was
found in the morning stretched upon the floorof the cell, with a placid smile upon his face, as though he had been able in his dyingmoments to look back upon a useful life, and on work well done. "gregson and lestrade will be wild about hisdeath," holmes remarked, as we chatted it over next evening. "where will their grandadvertisement be now?" "i don't see that they had very much to dowith his capture," i answered. "what you do in this world is a matter ofno consequence," returned my companion, bitterly. "the question is, what can you make peoplebelieve that you have done. never mind," he continued, more brightly, after a pause. "iwould not have missed the investigation for
anything. there has been no better case withinmy recollection. simple as it was, there were several most instructive points about it." "simple!" i ejaculated. "well, really, it can hardly be describedas otherwise," said sherlock holmes, smiling at my surprise. "the proof of its intrinsicsimplicity is, that without any help save a few very ordinary deductions i was ableto lay my hand upon the criminal within three days." "that is true," said i. "i have already explained to you that whatis out of the common is usually a guide rather
than a hindrance. in solving a problem ofthis sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backwards. that is a very useful accomplishment,and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. in the every-day affairs of lifeit is more useful to reason forwards, and so the other comes to be neglected. thereare fifty who can reason synthetically for one who can reason analytically." "i confess," said i, "that i do not quitefollow you." "i hardly expected that you would. let mesee if i can make it clearer. most people, if you describe a train of events to them,will tell you what the result would be. they can put those events together in their minds,and argue from them that something will come
to pass. there are few people, however, who,if you told them a result, would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousnesswhat the steps were which led up to that result. this power is what i mean when i talk of reasoningbackwards, or analytically." "i understand," said i. "now this was a case in which you were giventhe result and had to find everything else for yourself. now let me endeavour to showyou the different steps in my reasoning. to begin at the beginning. i approached the house,as you know, on foot, and with my mind entirely free from all impressions. i naturally beganby examining the roadway, and there, as i have already explained to you, i saw clearlythe marks of a cab, which, i ascertained by
inquiry, must have been there during the night.i satisfied myself that it was a cab and not a private carriage by the narrow gauge ofthe wheels. the ordinary london growler is considerably less wide than a gentleman'sbrougham. "this was the first point gained. i then walkedslowly down the garden path, which happened to be composed of a clay soil, peculiarlysuitable for taking impressions. no doubt it appeared to you to be a mere trampled lineof slush, but to my trained eyes every mark upon its surface had a meaning. there is nobranch of detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracingfootsteps. happily, i have always laid great stress upon it, and much practice has madeit second nature to me. i saw the heavy footmarks
of the constables, but i saw also the trackof the two men who had first passed through the garden. it was easy to tell that theyhad been before the others, because in places their marks had been entirely obliteratedby the others coming upon the top of them. in this way my second link was formed, whichtold me that the nocturnal visitors were two in number, one remarkable for his height (asi calculated from the length of his stride), and the other fashionably dressed, to judgefrom the small and elegant impression left by his boots. "on entering the house this last inferencewas confirmed. my well-booted man lay before me. the tall one, then, had done the murder,if murder there was. there was no wound upon
the dead man's person, but the agitated expressionupon his face assured me that he had foreseen his fate before it came upon him. men whodie from heart disease, or any sudden natural cause, never by any chance exhibit agitationupon their features. having sniffed the dead man's lips i detected a slightly sour smell,and i came to the conclusion that he had had poison forced upon him. again, i argued thatit had been forced upon him from the hatred and fear expressed upon his face. by the methodof exclusion, i had arrived at this result, for no other hypothesis would meet the facts.do not imagine that it was a very unheard of idea. the forcible administration of poisonis by no means a new thing in criminal annals. the cases of dolsky in odessa, and of leturierin montpellier, will occur at once to any
toxicologist. "and now came the great question as to thereason why. robbery had not been the object of the murder, for nothing was taken. wasit politics, then, or was it a woman? that was the question which confronted me. i wasinclined from the first to the latter supposition. political assassins are only too glad to dotheir work and to fly. this murder had, on the contrary, been done most deliberately,and the perpetrator had left his tracks all over the room, showing that he had been thereall the time. it must have been a private wrong, and not a political one, which calledfor such a methodical revenge. when the inscription was discovered upon the wall i was more inclinedthan ever to my opinion. the thing was too
evidently a blind. when the ring was found,however, it settled the question. clearly the murderer had used it to remind his victimof some dead or absent woman. it was at this point that i asked gregson whether he hadenquired in his telegram to cleveland as to any particular point in mr. drebber's formercareer. he answered, you remember, in the negative. "i then proceeded to make a careful examinationof the room, which confirmed me in my opinion as to the murderer's height, and furnishedme with the additional details as to the trichinopoly cigar and the length of his nails. i had alreadycome to the conclusion, since there were no signs of a struggle, that the blood whichcovered the floor had burst from the murderer's
nose in his excitement. i could perceive thatthe track of blood coincided with the track of his feet. it is seldom that any man, unlesshe is very full-blooded, breaks out in this way through emotion, so i hazarded the opinionthat the criminal was probably a robust and ruddy-faced man. events proved that i hadjudged correctly. "having left the house, i proceeded to dowhat gregson had neglected. i telegraphed to the head of the police at cleveland, limitingmy enquiry to the circumstances connected with the marriage of enoch drebber. the answerwas conclusive. it told me that drebber had already applied for the protection of thelaw against an old rival in love, named jefferson hope, and that this same hope was at presentin europe. i knew now that i held the clue
to the mystery in my hand, and all that remainedwas to secure the murderer. "i had already determined in my own mind thatthe man who had walked into the house with drebber, was none other than the man who haddriven the cab. the marks in the road showed me that the horse had wandered on in a waywhich would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it. where, then,could the driver be, unless he were inside the house? again, it is absurd to supposethat any sane man would carry out a deliberate crime under the very eyes, as it were, ofa third person, who was sure to betray him. lastly, supposing one man wished to dog anotherthrough london, what better means could he adopt than to turn cabdriver. all these considerationsled me to the irresistible conclusion that
jefferson hope was to be found among the jarveysof the metropolis. "if he had been one there was no reason tobelieve that he had ceased to be. on the contrary, from his point of view, any sudden changewould be likely to draw attention to himself. he would, probably, for a time at least, continueto perform his duties. there was no reason to suppose that he was going under an assumedname. why should he change his name in a country where no one knew his original one? i thereforeorganized my street arab detective corps, and sent them systematically to every cabproprietor in london until they ferreted out the man that i wanted. how well they succeeded,and how quickly i took advantage of it, are still fresh in your recollection. the murderof stangerson was an incident which was entirely
unexpected, but which could hardly in anycase have been prevented. through it, as you know, i came into possession of the pills,the existence of which i had already surmised. you see the whole thing is a chain of logicalsequences without a break or flaw." "it is wonderful!" i cried. "your merits shouldbe publicly recognized. you should publish an account of the case. if you won't, i willfor you." "you may do what you like, doctor," he answered."see here!" he continued, handing a paper over to me, "look at this!" it was the echo for the day, and the paragraphto which he pointed was devoted to the case in question.
"the public," it said, "have lost a sensationaltreat through the sudden death of the man hope, who was suspected of the murder of mr.enoch drebber and of mr. joseph stangerson. the details of the case will probably be neverknown now, though we are informed upon good authority that the crime was the result ofan old standing and romantic feud, in which love and mormonism bore a part. it seems thatboth the victims belonged, in their younger days, to the latter day saints, and hope,the deceased prisoner, hails also from salt lake city. if the case has had no other effect,it, at least, brings out in the most striking manner the efficiency of our detective policeforce, and will serve as a lesson to all foreigners that they will do wisely to settle their feudsat home, and not to carry them on to british
soil. it is an open secret that the creditof this smart capture belongs entirely to the well-known scotland yard officials, messrs.lestrade and gregson. the man was apprehended, it appears, in the rooms of a certain mr.sherlock holmes, who has himself, as an amateur, shown some talent in the detective line, andwho, with such instructors, may hope in time to attain to some degree of their skill. itis expected that a testimonial of some sort will be presented to the two officers as afitting recognition of their services." "didn't i tell you so when we started?" criedsherlock holmes with a laugh. "that's the result of all our study in scarlet: to getthem a testimonial!" "never mind," i answered, "i have all thefacts in my journal, and the public shall
know them. in the meantime you must make yourselfcontented by the consciousness of success, like the roman miserã¢â‚¬â€ "'populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudoipse domi simul ac nummos contemplor in arca.'"