On glancing over my notes of the cases in which I have studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number strange, but no commonplace cases. He worked rather for the love of his art than for money and he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not have anything unusual and even fantastic in it. Of all these cases, however, I cannot recall any which was more unusual than that which was associated with the well-known family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran[1]. The events occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms in Baker Street.

It was early in April in the year 1883 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser[2], as a rule, and as the clock showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I looked up at him in some surprise.

“Very sorry to wake you up, Watson,” said he, “but Mrs. Hudson has been woken up, and she woke me up.”

“What is it, then – a fire?”

“No, a client. A young lady has arrived. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. When young ladies call on you at this hour of the morning, I think that it is something very pressing. If it is an interesting case, I am sure, you would like to follow it from the beginning.”

“My dear fellow, I shall be ready in a minute.”

I put on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black rose as we entered.

“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has lighted the fire. Please sit near it, and I shall ask a cup of hot coffee for you, for I see that you are shivering.”

“It is not cold which makes me shiver[3],” said the woman in a low voice.

“What, then?”

“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She looked up as she spoke, and we could see her pale face with frightened eyes. She must be a woman of thirty[4], but her hair was turning gray.

“You must not fear,” said he. “We shall soon help you, I have no doubt. You have come to London by train this morning, I see.”

“You know me, then?”

“No, but I see your return ticket in your left glove. You must have started early[5], and you had a long drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.”

The lady looked in bewilderment at my companion.

“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm of your jacket is covered with mud. The marks are perfectly fresh. Only a dog-cart throws up mud in that way.”

“You are perfectly correct,” said she. “I started from home before six, and came in by the first train to Waterloo[6]. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer[7]; I shall go mad if it continues. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too? At present I cannot reward you, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married and shall have my own income, and then you will not find me ungrateful.”

Holmes turned to his desk and took a small book, which he consulted.

“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to investigate your case as I did for your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you can pay me at the time which suits you best. And now I ask you to tell us everything that may help us in to form an opinion upon the matter.”

“Alas!” said our visitor, “the horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, that even the man who cares for me looks upon all that I tell him as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it in his eyes.”

“I am all attention, madam.”

1. Answer the questions:

1. When did Sherlock Holmes investigate the case of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran?

2. Where did Sherlock Holmes live? Who did he share the rooms with?

3. Why did Sherlock Holmes wake up Dr.Watson very early one morning?

4. What did the client look like?

5. How did Sherlock Holmes surprise their visitor?

6. How did he learn all the information about the client?

7. Who did the client learn about the detective from?

8. Why did the client come to Holmes for help?

9. What did she tell Holmes about her financial position?

“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last of one of the oldest families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.

“The family was at one time among the richest in England, but at present only a few acres of land and an old house are left. The last squire lived the horrible life of a poor aristocrat; but his only son, my stepfather took a medical degree[8] and went to India, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, he beat his native servant to death and went to prison. After that he returned to England a gloomy and disappointed man.

“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother’s second marriage. She had a considerable sum of money and all this she left to Dr. Roylott while we lived with him, but a certain sum should be paid to each of us every year in the event of our marriage[9]. After our return to England my mother died – she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident. Dr. Roylott then left London and took us to live with him in the old house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and it seemed we could be happy.

“But a terrible change occurred to our stepfather at this time. Instead of making friends with our neighbours, who at first were happy to see a Roylott back in Stoke Moran, he shut himself up in his house. When he seldom came out, he started quarrels with anyone whom he met. A number of horrible quarrels occurred, two of which ended in the court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the people hid at his approach, for he is a man of great strength in his terrible fits of anger.

“He has no friends at all except gypsies, and he allows them to stay in the park near the house. He loves also Indian animals, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which go freely over the park and are feared by the people of the village almost as much as their master.

“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant stayed with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was thirty at the time of her death, but her hair was turning gray like mine.”

“Your sister is dead, then?”

“She died two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we saw very few people. We had, however, an aunt, who we were allowed to visit. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a young officer, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and did not say anything against the marriage; but two weeks before the wedding, the terrible event occurred and I lost my only companion.”

Sherlock Holmes had been sitting in his chair with his eyes closed, but now he glanced at his visitor.

“Please give us all the details,” said he.

“It is easy for me to do so, for I remember every event of that time. The house is, as I have already said, very old, and only the bedrooms are on the ground floor. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second is my sister’s, and the third is my own. There are no doors between them, but they all open out into the same corridor.

“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the park. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not gone to bed, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which he smoked. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, talking about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back.

“ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle at night?’

“ ‘Never. But why?’ said I.

“ ‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I cannot tell where it came from – perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the park. I thought that I would ask you whether you had heard it.’

‘No, I have not. It must be those gypsies in the park[10].’

“ ‘Very likely. And if it were in the park, it is strange that you did not hear it also.’

“ ‘Ah, but I do not hear anything when I am asleep.’

She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock.”

“Did you always lock yourselves in at night?” asked Holmes.

“Always.”

“And why?”

“I think that I said that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security if our doors were not locked.”

“I see. But forgive me for interrupting you. Please continue your story.”

1. Answer the questions:

1. What did you learn about the Roylotts of Stoke Moran?

2. Why did Dr. Roylott return to England from India a gloomy and disappointed man?

3. How did it happen that Dr. Roylott lived in Stoke Moran with his two stepdaughters?

4. Who else lived in the house?

5. What were the relations between Dr. Roylott and other people in the village?

6. Why weren’t Julia and Helen happy?

7. How did it happen that Julia became engaged to be married?

8. What did you learn about the house where Julia’s tragic death occurred?

9. What did the sisters speak about before Julia’s death?

10. Why did the sisters lock their bedrooms?

“I could not sleep that night. I had a vague feeling that something bad was coming. It was a wild night. The wind was very strong outside, and the rain was beating against the windows. Suddenly, there was a wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice. I got out of my bed, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a strange sound, as if metal had fallen. As I ran down the corridor, my sister’s door was unlocked, and opened slowly. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear in the doorway, her face pale with terror, she could hardly stand. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment she fell to the ground. She seemed to be in terrible pain. As I bent over her she suddenly cried out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else which she wanted to say, and she pointed her finger at the door of the doctor’s room, but she could not speak. I called loudly for my stepfather, and I saw him running from his room. When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious, and though he sent for a doctor from the village, she died without having recovered her consciousness[11].”

“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound?”

“That was what the police asked me. I believe I heard it, but I may have made a mistake.[12]”

“Was your sister dressed?”

“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand wе found a burnt match, and in her left a match-box.”

“It shows that she struck a light and looked about her when she heard a noise. That is important. And what conclusions did the police come to?”

“They investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott had a very bad reputation, but they were unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. The door was locked on the inside, and the windows were blocked. The walls and the floor were examined, with no result. It is clear, therefore, that my sister was alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.”

“How about poison?”

“The doctors examined her for it, but without any result.”

“What do you think your sister died of, then?”

“I believe she died of fear and nervous shock, though what frightened her I cannot imagine.”

“Were there gypsies in the park at the time?”

“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”

“Ah, and what did you think of her last words – a speckled band?”

“Sometimes I have thought that she spoke of some band of people, perhaps of the gypsies in the park. So many of them wear the speckled handkerchiefs over their heads.”

Holmes shook his head like a man who was not satisfied.

“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, asked my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage – Percy Armitage. My stepfather has nothing against the marriage, and we are to be married in spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the house, and I had to move into the room in which my sister died, and to sleep in the bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, terror when last night I suddenly heard the low whistle which my sister had heard before her death. I got up and lit the lamp, but saw nothing unusual in the room. I was too frightened to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I left the house, got a dog-cart and drove to the station, from where I have come on this morning to see you and to ask your advice.”

“You have done well,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?”

“Yes, all.”

“Miss Roylott, you have not.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

For answer Holmes took her hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. The marks of a very strong hand were printed on it.

“Your stepfather has been cruel to you,” said Holmes.

“He is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.”

There was a long silence, during which Holmes looked into the fire.

“This is a very deep business[13],” he said at last. “There are a thousand details which I should like to know before I decide what to do. We have not a moment to lose. If we come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see these rooms without the knowledge[14] of your stepfather?”

“He spoke of going to town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish.”

“Perfect. You are not against this trip, Watson?”

“No, I am not.”

“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?”

“I have one or two things to do now in town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, and I shall be there in time for your coming.”

1. Answer the questions:

1. Why couldn’t Helen sleep that night?

2. What sounds did Helen Stoner hear that night?

3. What did Julia look like when she came into the corridor?

4. How did Julia die?

5. What did Helen think Julia’s last words meant?

6. What did the police investigation show? Was it careful?

7. What were Helen’s plans for the near future?

8. Why was she terrified?

9. What was Sherlock Holmes going to do?

10. Why was Sherlock Holmes interested in Dr. Roylott’s plans for that day?

“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes after Miss Stoner left the room.

“It seems to me to be a most dark and gloomy business.”

“Dark enough and gloomy enough.”

“If the lady is correct when she said that no one could get into the room from the outside, then there is no doubt that her sister was alone when she met her end.”

“What about these whistles, and the very strange words of the dying woman?”

“I have no idea.”

“Whistles at night, a band of gypsies in the park, the fact that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying woman’s words, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic sound… Probably it was caused by the gypsies’ attempt to force the window.”

“But what, then, did the gypsies do?”

“I cannot imagine.”

“That is why we are going to Stoke Moran today. I want to see whether we can explain all this. But what in the name of the devil![15]”

Our door suddenly opened, and a very big man was in the doorway. So tall was he that his hat reached the doorway. A large face, marked with every evil passion[16], was turned from one to the other of us.

“Which of you is Holmes?” asked the man.

“This is my name, sir,” said my companion in a low voice.

“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”

“Ah, Doctor,” said Holmes. “Please take your seat.”

“I will do nothing of the kind[17]. My stepdaughter has been here. I have followed her. What has she said to you?”

“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.

“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor. “I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before.”

My friend smiled.

“Your words are most pleasant,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for the open door makes the room cold.”

“I will go when I have said what I want. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I followed her! I am a dangerous man! See here.”

He took the poker, and bent it with his very strong hands.

“Keep yourself out of my grip,” he said, threw the poker, and went out of the room.

“He seems a very friendly person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am not so big, but my grip is as strong as his own.” He took the poker and straightened it out again.

“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter.”

It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned home. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, covered with notes.

“I have seen the will of Miss Stoner’s mother,” said he. “The income is now not more than 750 pounds. Each daughter can have an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage. It is clear, therefore, that if both girls had married, our pleasant visitor would have had very little left, even one marriage would take a lot of money from him. He has the strongest motives for preventing his stepdaughters’ marriage. And now, Watson, this is very serious and we must hurry, as the old man knows of our interest in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. And remember to take your revolver with you. It is a good argument with gentlemen who can bend pokers.”

At Waterloo we took a train for Leatherhead, the station nearest to Stoke Moran, where we got into a cab and drove for four or five miles to our client’s house. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few clouds in the sky. The trees were just throwing out their first green leaves, and the air was full of the pleasant smell. To me there was a strange contrast between the beautiful spring day and the tragic event we had arrived to investigate. My companion sat in the cab, his hat pulled down over his eyes, lost in the deepest thought[18]. Suddenly, however, he pointed to the left.

“Look there!” said he.

I saw a park with a very old house in it.

“Stoke Moran?” said he.

“Yes, sir, that is the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” answered the driver.

“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to some houses to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you’ll find a road over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.”

“And the lady, I believe, is Miss Stoner,” said Holmes.

We got off and the cab drove back to Leatherhead.

1. Answer the questions:

1. Did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson come to any conclusion about the case?

2. Who suddenly came into the room?

3. What did Dr. Roylott look like?

4. How did he learn about Miss Stoner’s visit to Sherlock Holmes?

5. Why did Dr. Roylott come to Sherlock Holmes?

6. What did Sherlock Holmes find out about Dr. Roylott’s financial position?

7. How did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson reach Stoke Moran?

Our client had hurried forward to meet us with joy. “I have been waiting for you,” she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is not likely that he will be back before evening.”

“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance[19],” said Holmes, and in a few words he told her what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white as she listened.

“Good heavens!”[20] she cried, “he has followed me, then.”

“So it seems.”

“What will he say when he returns?”

“You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he does anything to you, we shall take you away to your aunt. Now, you must take us at once to the rooms which we have come to examine.”

The building was gray. Most part of it was a ruin. Holmes examined with great attention the outsides of the windows.

“Is this the window of the room in which you used to sleep[21], the central one of your sister’s, and the next of Dr. Roylott’s room?”

“Yes. But I am now sleeping in the middle room.”

“There are some repairs, as I understand. By the way, I cannot see any very pressing need for repairs in this part of the house.”

“You are right. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room.”

“Ah! that is interesting. These three rooms open into a corridor. There are windows in it, of course?”

“Yes, but very small ones. Too small for anyone to get in.”

“As you both locked your doors at night, no one could get into your rooms from that side. Now, go into your room and shut your window.”

Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination, attempted in every way to force the window open, but without any result. “Hum!” said he, “No one could get into the room from here. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter.”

We went to the corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. We passed at once to the second room, in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met her end. It was a little room, with a low ceiling and a big fireplace, like in many old country-houses. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round the room.

“Where does that bell go to?” he asked at last, pointing to a bell-rope which hung down beside the bed.

“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”

“It looks newer than the other things.”

“Yes, it was only put there two years ago.”

“Your sister asked for it?”

“No, she never used it. We always got what we wanted ourselves.”

“It seemed unnecessary to put a bell-rope there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I examine this floor.” He examined carefully the floor with his lens in his hand, then he did the same with the walls. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time looking at it and at the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and pulled it.

“It won’t ring[22],” said he. “It is not connected to anything. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened above a little opening for the ventilator.”

“How very strange! I never noticed that before.”

“Very strange!” answered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one or two very unusual things about this room. For example, the ventilator opens into another room, when it might have opened on the outside![23]”

“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.

“Was it done about the same time as the bell-rope?” asked Holmes.

“Yes, there were several little changes done at that time.”

“They seem to be very interesting – bells that do not ring and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now continue our investigation in the next room.”

Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s room was larger than that of his stepdaughter. A camp-bed, a small shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a chair against the wall, a round table, and a large safe were the principal things in the room. Holmes walked slowly round and examined all of them with interest.

“What’s in here?” he asked, pointing to the safe.

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

“Oh! you have seen inside, then?”

“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”

“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”

“No. What a strange idea!”

“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.

“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”

“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk will not satisfy its wants. There is one thing which I should like to see for myself.” He bent over the chair and examined it with the greatest attention.

“Thank you. That is quite clear,” said he, putting his lens in his pocket. “Hello! Here is something interesting!”

He pointed to a small dog lash that hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was tied into a loop.

“What do you think of that, Watson?”

“It’s a common lash. But I don’t know why it is tied.”

“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, it’s a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime[24] it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall go outside.”

I had never seen my friend’s face so gloomy.

1. Answer the questions:

1. Who met Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson on the road leading to Stoke Moran?

2. What did the house look like?

3. What did Sherlock Holmes and Miss Stoner think about the repairs in the house?

4. Why did Sherlock Holmes examine the window of Miss Stoner’s room? What did he find?

5. What did Miss Stoner’s room look like?

6. What did Sherlock Holmes find out about the bell and the ventilator in the room?

7. What was Dr. Roylott’s room like?

8. What seemed unusual to Sherlock Holmes in Dr. Roylott’s room?

9. What did Sherlock Holmes say after he examined Dr. Roylott’s room?

“It is very important, Miss Stoner,” said he, as we have already left the house and were standing in the park, “that you should absolutely follow my advice in every detail.”

“I shall certainly do so. I am in your hands.”

“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room.”

Both Miss Stoner and I looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that there is a hotel in the village over there?”

“Yes, the Crown.”

“Very good. Your windows can be seen from there?”

“Certainly.”

“You must go to your room, saying you have a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when he goes to his room, you must open your window, and put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then go quietly into the room where you slept before. I have no doubt that you can sleep there for one night.”

“Oh, yes, easily. But what will you do?”

“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which you heard.”

“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already come to some conclusion,” said Miss Stoner.

“Perhaps I have.”

“Then, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s death.”

“I should like to have clearer evidence before I speak.”

“But you can tell me whether my own idea is correct, and if she died of fear.”

“No, I do not think so. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you, for Dr. Roylott must not see us here. Good-bye, and if you do what I have told you, nothing will threaten you.”

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in getting a room at the Crown. It was on the upper floor, and from our window we could see Stoke Moran. In the evening we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, and a few minutes later we saw a light among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in our hotel room, “I have really some doubts about taking you to-night. It is certainly dangerous.”

“Can I be of help to you?[25]”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then I shall certainly come.”

“It is very kind of you.”

“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than I have.”

“No. I imagine that you saw all that I did.”

“I saw nothing unusual except the bell-rope, but why it is important I cannot imagine.”

“You saw the ventilator, too?”

“Yes, but I do not think that it is such an unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that no one could pass through it.”

“I knew that we should find a ventilator even before we came to Stoke Moran.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“Oh, yes, I did. You remember Miss Stoner said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that meant that there was an opening between the two rooms.”

“But it is so small!”

“Well, the dates are strange. A ventilator is made, a bell-rope is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does that not strike you?”

“I cannot see any connection.”

“Did you notice anything very unusual about that bed?”

“No.”

“It was fastened to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?”

“Never.”

“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same position to the ventilator and to the bell-rope – or so we may call it, for it was clearly never meant for a bell.”

“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see what you mean[26]. We are in time to prevent some horrible crime.”

“Horrible enough. When a doctor turns to crime[27] he is the first of criminals. But we shall have enough horrors before the night is over; let us rest and think for a few hours about something more pleasant.”

About eleven o’clock a bright light appeared in the window.

“That is our signal,” said Holmes, “it comes from the middle window.”

A moment later we were out on the dark road, one yellow light guiding us to the house.

We had little difficulty in entering the park. Walking among the trees, I saw someone like a child running and jumping on the grass.the grass.

“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”

“That is the baboon.”

I had forgotten the strange pets of the doctor. There was a cheetah, too; it could be upon our backs at any moment. I must say I felt less nervous when we got into the bedroom through the window.

1. Answer the questions:

1. What plans did Holmes make for the night?

2. How did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson spend the evening?

3. What facts did Sherlock Holmes think were important in the case?

4. How did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson get into Stoke Moran that night? Did anything unusual happen to them on the way there?

My companion closed the window, moved the lamp onto the table, and looked round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Holmes whispered into my ear:

“Any sound can be fatal to our plans.”

I nodded to show that I had heard.

“We must sit without light. He will see it through the ventilator.”

I nodded again.

“Do not go asleep; your life may depend upon it. Have your revolver ready. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair.”

I took out my revolver and put it on the table.

Holmes had brought a long thin cane, which he put upon the bed beside him. He also put there a box of matches and a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

I shall never forget that awful night! I could not hear a sound, but I knew that my companion sat beside me, as nervous as I was myself. We waited in absolute darkness. How long seemed those hours! The clock of the village church struck twelve, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for we did not know what.

Suddenly there was light up in the opening of the ventilator. It was followed by a strong smell of burning oil and metal. Someone in the next room had lit a lamp. I heard somebody move there, and then all was silent again, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat listening. Then suddenly I heard another sound – a very low hissing sound. The moment we heard it, Holmes struck a match, and lashed with his cane at the bell-rope.

“You see it, Watson?” he shouted. “You see it?”

But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but I could not see anything in the sudden light. I could, however, see that Holmes stopped striking and was looking up at the ventilator when suddenly there came the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It grew louder and louder, a horrible cry of pain and fear and anger. They say that that cry could be heard in the village.

“What can it mean?” I whispered.

“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your revolver, and we will enter Dr. Roylott’s room.”

With a serious face he lit the lamp and went down the corridor. Twice he struck at the door of Dr. Roylott’s room without any answer. Then he entered, I followed him, with the revolver in my hand.

On the table stood a lamp, throwing light upon the safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott. In his hand he had the long lash which we had seen during the day. Round his head he had a yellow speckled band. As we entered he did not move.

“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes.

I took a step forward. In a moment the strange band began to move, among his hair we saw the head of a snake.

“It is the deadliest snake in India!” cried Holmes; “He died ten seconds after he was bitten. The schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another[28]. Let us put it back into the safe, and we can then let the police know what has happened.”

As he spoke he drew lash from the dead man’s hand, and throwing the loop round the reptile’s head he drew it from Dr. Roylott’s head, threw it into the safe, and closed it.

Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary for me to tell how we accompanied the terrified girl to the morning train which took her to her aunt.

The police came to the conclusion that the doctor met his end while playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I did not know of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.

“I came,” said he, “to an absolutely wrong conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how important it always is to have evidence. The gypsies in Stoke Moran, the word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, put me upon an entirely wrong scent[29]. However, soon it became clear to me that danger could not come either from the window or the door. The ventilator and the bell-rope which hung down to the bed drew my attention. The discovery that the bell did not ring, and that the bed was fastened to the floor, gave me an idea that the rope was there as a bridge for something to pass through the opening and to come to the bed. The idea of a snake occurred to me at once, and when I recalled that the doctor kept animals from India, I felt that I was probably right. The idea of using poison which could not be discovered by any chemical test could occur to a clever man who had lived in India. Not every policeman could see the two little dark spots left by the snake’s teeth. Then I thought of the whistle. He had used it to call the snake back to him, he had, probably, trained the snake to go through the ventilator by the use of the milk which we saw, to go down the rope and onto the bed. It might or might not bite the girl, perhaps he did it every night for a week, but sooner or later the snake must bite the poor girl.

“I had come to these conclusions before ever I entered his room. His chair showed me that he had been standing on it, which of course would be necessary to reach the ventilator. The safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of lash showed that I was right. The metallic sound heard by Miss Stoner was that of the closing door of the safe upon the snake. I came to the right conclusion, and you know what I did to finish the case. I heard the snake hiss as I have no doubt you did also, and I lit the light and attacked it.”

“And you drove it through the ventilator.”

“And it turned upon its master at the other side. The snake was angry, so it attacked the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s death, and I cannot say that I am very sorry about it.”

1. Answer the questions:

1. What did Holmes and Dr. Watson do after they got into the house?

2. How long did they have to wait for Dr. Roylott to start acting?

3. What did Dr. Watson hear and smell after a long wait?

4. What did Sherlock Holmes do after there was a hissing sound?

5. What did they see in Dr. Roylott’s room?

6. Did Sherlock Holmes come to the correct conclusion at once? What put him on a wrong scent at first?

7. When did the idea of a snake occur to the detective?

8. Was Sherlock Holmes sorry about his role in the affair?

I called on my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last year and found him speaking to an elderly gentleman with fiery red hair.

“You could not have come at a better time[30], my dear Watson,” Holmes said.

“I was afraid that you were engaged.”

“So I am.”

“Then I can wait in the next room.”

“Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of use to me in yours also.”

The gentleman half rose from his chair and nodded.

“I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is outside the routine of everyday life. You have shown it by the enthusiasm with which you chronicled so many of my adventures,” said Holmes.

“Your cases have been of the greatest interest to me,” I observed.

“Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning and go begin a story which promises to be one of the most unusual which I have listened to for some time. As far as I have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether this case is an example of crime or not, but events are certainly very unusual. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would repeat your story. I ask you not only because my friend, Dr. Watson, has not heard the beginning but also because your story makes me anxious to hear every detail. As a rule, when I have heard some story, I am able to think of the thousands of other similar cases. But not now.”

The client, looking a little proud, took a newspaper from the pocket of his coat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, I took a good look at the man and tried, like my companion, to read what his dress or appearance could tell me.

I did not learn very much, however. Our visitor looked like a common British tradesman. There was nothing remarkable about the man except his blazing red head.

Sherlock Holmes saw my glances. “Except the facts that he has at some time worked with his hands, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a lot of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.”

“How did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?” Mr. Jabez Wilson asked. “How did you know, for example, that I worked with my hands? It’s true, for I began as a carpenter.”

“Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is much larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed.”

“Well, and the Freemasonry?”

“I won’t tell you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass breastpin[31].”

“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?”

“Your right cuff is so shiny, and the left one has a patch near the elbow where you put it on the desk.”

“Well, but China?”

“The fish that you have tattooed on your hand could only be done in China. I have made a small study of tattoos.”

Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed. “Well, I never![32]” said he. “I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it, after all.”

“I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake in explaining. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?”

“Yes, I have got it now,” he answered. “Here it is. This is what began it all. You just read it for yourself, sir.”

I took the paper from him and read as follows.

TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A.[33], there is now another vacancy open for a member of the League with a salary of 4 pounds a week. All red-headed men who are above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply on Monday, at eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7, Fleet Street.

“What does this mean?” I exclaimed after I had twice read the advertisement.

“And now, Mr. Wilson, tell us all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had on your life. Make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date.”

“It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago.”

“Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?”

“Well, it is just as I told you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said Jabez Wilson; “I have a small pawnbroker’s business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not very large, and it has just given me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I keep one; and I can do it only because he agrees to work for half wages to learn the business.”

“What is the name of this young man?” asked Sherlock Holmes.

“His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he’s not very young. It’s hard to say his age. I do not wish a better assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?[34]”

“Why, indeed? You seem most lucky to have an assistant for half wages. Your assistant is as remarkable as your advertisement.”

“Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “He is very much interested in photography. He slips away with a camera when he ought to be working, and then dives down into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but he’s a good worker.”

“He is still with you, I presume?”

“Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does simple cooking and keeps the place clean – that’s all I have in the house, for I am a widower. We live very quietly, sir, the three of us.

“Spaulding, he came into the office eight weeks ago, with this paper in his hand and said:

“‘I wish, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.’

“‘Why?’ I asked.

“‘Here’s a vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men,’ said he. ‘It’s worth a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men.’

“‘Why, what is it?’ I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home man, and, as my business came to me instead of my going to it[35], I often stayed in for several weeks. So I didn’t know much of what was going on outside, and I was always glad of any news.

“‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?’ he asked with his eyes open.

“‘Never.’

“‘Why, how strange, for you are eligibile yourself for one of the vacancies.’

“‘And what are they worth?’ I asked.

“‘Oh, a couple of hundred a year, but the work is easy, and you can do some other work at the same time.’

“Well, the business has not been very good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would be very handy.

“‘Tell me all about it,’ said I.

“‘Well,’ said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you can see for yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you can apply. As far as I know, the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; so when he died it was found that he had left his enormous fortune with instructions to help men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is good pay, and very little to do.’

“‘But,’ said I, ‘there are millions of red-headed men who can apply.’

“‘Not so many as you think,’ he answered. ‘They must be Londoners, and grown men. This American started from London when he was young. Then I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red.’

“Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my hair is of that very colour, so it seemed to me that if there was any competition I had a good chance. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I ordered him to come with me. So we shut the business up and started off for the address that was given us in the advertisement.

“I never hope to see anything like that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had come to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was crowded with red-headed men. I had not thought there were so many in the whole country as were brought together by that advertisement. Every shade of red they were; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real blazing red. When I saw how many were waiting, I was in despair; but Spaulding got me through the crowd, and up to the steps which led to the office, and soon we found ourselves in the office.

“There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and then he always found some fault in them which would disqualify them [36]. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such an easy matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he might speak in private with us.

“‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, ‘and he wishes to fill a vacancy in the League.’

“‘And he suits us,’ the other answered. ‘I do not remember when I saw anything so fine.’ He took a step backward, and looked at my hair. Then suddenly he ran forward, shook my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my success.

“‘I am sure, you will excuse me for taking a precaution.’ With those words he seized my hair in both his hands, and pulled until I cried with pain. ‘I think that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint,’ said he as he released me. He went to the window and shouted at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled.

“‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Mr. Duncan Ross. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?’

“I answered that I had not.

“His face fell.

“‘Dear me[37]!’ he said, ‘that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The league was founded for the propagation of the red-headed men. It is very bad that you are a bachelor.’

“My face fell at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I would not have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes he said that it would be all right.

“‘We cannot lose a man with such a head of hair as yours. When will you be able to start work?’ said he.

“‘Well, I have a business already,’ said I.

“‘Oh, never mind about that[38], Mr. Wilson!’ said Vincent Spaulding. ‘I am able to look after that for you.’

“‘What will be the working hours?’ I asked.

“‘Ten to two.’

“A pawnbroker’s business is mostly done in the evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so it suited me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anything that turned up.

“‘That will suit me very well,’ said I. ‘And the pay?’

“‘It is 4 pounds a week.’

“‘And the work?’

“‘Very simple.’

“‘What do you call very simple?’

“‘Well, you have to be in the office the whole time. If you leave, you will lose your position.’

“‘It’s only four hours a day, and I shall not leave,’ said I.

“‘Neither sickness, nor business, nor anything else will excuse you,’ said Mr. Duncan Ross; ‘you must stay there, or you lose your position.’

“‘And the work?’

“‘You are to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. You must find your ink, pens, and paper, but we give you this table and chair. Will you be ready tomorrow?’

“‘Certainly,’ I answered.

“‘Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you have received.’ He showed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant. I was so pleased at my good fortune.”

1. Answer the questions:

1. What client called on Sherlock Holmes one day? What did he look like?

2. What did Sherlock Holmes tell Dr. Watson about Mr. Wilson’s case?

3. What did Sherlock Holmes guess about Mr. Wilson? What details helped him? Was Mr. Wilson impressed? Why (not)?

4. What did Mr. Wilson tell Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson about his business and household?

5. What did you learn about Mr. Wilson’s assistant?

6. How did Mr. Wilson learn about a vacancy on the Red-headed League?

7. Was Mr. Wilson enthusiastic about the vacancy? Why (not)?

8. Why did Mr. Wilson go to Fleet Street in the end?

9. Why did he take his assistant with him?

10. What did Mr. Wilson see in Fleet Street and in the office of the Red-headed League?

11. Whom did Mr. Wilson meet in the office? Did Mr. Ross employ him at once?

12. What was the work like?

“Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for now I was sure that the whole affair must be some great fraud. It seemed very strange that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. However, in the morning I decided to have a look at it after all, so I bought a bottle of ink, and with a pen and seven sheets of paper, I started off for Fleet Street.

“Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was all right. The table was ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see that I started work. He told me to start with the letter A, and then he left me; but he came from time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o’clock he said good-bye to me, and locked the door of the office after me.

“This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager came in and paid four golden sovereigns for my week’s work. It was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. Usually Mr. Duncan Ross came in the morning, but after a time, he stopped coming in at all. Still, of course, I never left the room for a moment, for I was not sure when he might come, and the position was so good, and suited me so well, that I did not want to risk losing it.

“Eight weeks passed like this, and I had written almost all the letter A, and hoped that I soon might get on to the B.

“This morning I went to my work as usual at ten o’clock, but the door was locked, with a little note on it. Here it is, and you can read for yourself.”

He showed us a piece of paper. It read:

THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED.

October 9, 1890.

Sherlock Holmes and I read this short note and looked at the sad face behind it, and the comical side of the affair was so obvious that we both burst out laughing.

“I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our client. “If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go to another detective.”

“No, no,” cried Holmes. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for the world[39]. It is most unusual. But there is something a little funny about it. What did you do when you found the note on the door?”

“I was astonished, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the offices round, but nobody knew anything about it. I went to the landlord, who is living on the ground-floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of it. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him.

“‘Well,’ said I, ‘the gentleman at No. 4.’

“‘What, the red-headed man?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Oh,’ said he, ‘his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and was using my room until his new office was ready. He moved out yesterday.’

“‘Where can I find him?’

“‘Oh, at his new office. He told me the address. Yes, 17 King Edward Street.’

“I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a manufactory, and no one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.”

“And what did you do then?” asked Holmes.

“I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant. But he could not help me. He could only say that if I waited I might get a letter. But that was not good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you gave good advice to poor people, I came to you.”

“And you did very well,” said Holmes. “Your case is remarkable, and I shall be happy to look into it. The affair may be very serious.”

“Of course serious!” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “I have lost four pounds a week.”

“As far as you are personally concerned[40],” remarked Holmes, “I do not see that you have anything against this extraordinary league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by about 30 pounds, to say nothing of the knowledge which you have got on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing.”

“No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and why they played this trick – if it was a trick – on me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them thirty-two pounds.”

“We shall try to clear up these points for you. And, first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first brought you the advertisement – how long had he been with you?”

“About a month then.”

“How did he come?”

“In answer to an advertisement.”

“Was he the only who answered the advertisement?”

“No, I had a dozen.”

“Why did you choose him?”

“Because he was cheap.”

“At half wages.”

“Yes.”

“What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?”

“Small, very quick, no hair on his face, about thirty. He has a white scar on his forehead.”

Holmes sat up in his chair very much excited. “I thought as much[41],” said he. “Are his ears pierced for earrings?”

“Yes, sir. He told me he had done it when he was a boy.”

“He is still with you?”

“Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.”

“And has he worked well in your absence?”

“Yes, sir. There’s never very much to do in the morning.”

“That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion on the matter in a day or two. Today is Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.”

“Well, Watson,” said Holmes when our visitor had left us, “what do you make of it all[42]?”

“I make nothing of it,” I answered. “It is a very mysterious business.”

“As a rule,” said Holmes, “the more unusual a thing is the less mysterious it is in the end. But I must hurry up.”

“What are you going to do, then?” I asked.

“To smoke,” he answered. “It is a three pipe problem[43], and I ask you not to speak to me for fifty minutes.” He sat in his chair, with his eyes closed. I had come to the conclusion that he had fallen asleep, when he suddenly sprang out of his chair like a man who had made up his mind and put his pipe down on the table.

“What do you think, Watson? Could you come with me for a few hours?” he said.

“I have nothing to do today. My practice is never very busy.”

We travelled by the Underground first; and then a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the unusual story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a little, shabby place, where two-storeyed houses looked out into a small garden. A brown board with “JABEZ WILSON” in white letters on a corner house showed us the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it and looked it all over. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still looking at the houses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker’s, struck on the ground with his stick two or three times, went up to the door and knocked. It was opened by a young fellow, who asked him to come in.

“Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you how I could go from here to the Strand[44].”

“The first turning to the left,” answered the assistant, closing the door.

“Smart fellow,” remarked Holmes as we walked away. “I think, he is the fourth smartest man in London. I have known something of him before.”

“Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson’s assistant is involved in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you asked your way only to see him.”

“Not him.”

“What then?”

“The knees of his trousers.”

“And what did you see?”

“What I expected to see.”

“Why did you strike the ground?”

“My dear doctor, this is a time for action, not for talk. We are spies in an enemy’s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now see some other places.”

The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from Saxe-Coburg Square was a great contrast to it. It was one of the main arteries with busy traffic. It was difficult to realize as we looked at the line of fine shops and business offices that they were really on the other side of the quiet square which we had just left.

“Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the street, “I should like to remember the order of the houses here. There is Mortimer’s, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank[45], the Vegetarian Restaurant. And now, Doctor, we’ve done our work.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Yes.”

“And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious.”

“Why serious?”

“A crime is being prepared. I believe that we shall be in time to stop it. I shall want your help tonight.”

“At what time?”

“At ten. There may be some danger, so put your army revolver in your pocket.” And he disappeared in the crowd.

I must say I always felt stupid when I was with Sherlock Holmes. I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was going to happen, while to me the whole business was still a mystery. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over it. Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this pawnbroker’s assistant was a criminal. But I could not think what he was up to and then decided that the night would bring an explanation.

1. Answer the questions:

1. What was Mr. Wilson’s working day like? How long did he work at the office of the League?

2. What happened on the morning of the day Mr. Wilson called on Sherlock Holmes?

3. What did Mr. Wilson do after he found the office locked? What did he find out?

4. Why did he come to Sherlock Holmes? What do you think he wanted?

5. What did Mr. Wilson tell Holmes and Watson about his assistant?

6. Did Sherlock Holmes think it would take him long to solve the problem?

7. Where did Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson go and what did they see there?

8. What did Mr. Wilson’s house look like? What kind of neighbourhood was it in?

9. What did Sherlock Holmes do in Saxe-Coburg Square? Who did he speak to?

10. Why did Sherlock Holmes want to see Mr. Wilson’s assistant? What did he tell Dr. Watson about him?

11. What did they see when they turned round the corner?

12. What did Sherlock Holmes say was going on? What was he going to do?

13. What did Dr. Watson feel when he helped Sherlock Holmes in his cases? Why?

It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way to Baker Street. Two cabs were standing at the door, and as I entered the house I heard voices from above. On entering his room I found Holmes speaking to two men, one of whom I recognized as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a hat and very respectable coat.

“Ha! Our party is complete. Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in tonight’s adventure,” said Holmes.

“You may have confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said the police agent. “He has his own methods, which are a little too theoretical and fantastic, but once or twice he has been more correct than the police.”

“Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the stranger. “Still, I miss my game of cards. It is the first Saturday night for twenty-seven years that I have not played cards.”

“I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that the play tonight will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you, Jones, it will be the man on whom you wish to lay your hands.

“John Clay, the murderer, thief, and forger. He’s a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, one of the most dangerous in London. He’s a remarkable man. His grandfather was a duke, and he himself has been to Eton[46] and Oxford. His brain is as good as his fingers. I’ve been on his track for years and have never had any evidence against him yet.”

“I’ve met Mr. John Clay once or twice, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, and it is time to start.”

We drove through a labyrinth of streets until we found ourselves in Farrington Street.

“We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I wished to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute fool in his profession, but he is as brave as a bulldog.”

We had reached the same crowded street in which we had been in the morning. Mr. Merryweather opened a side door for us. We saw a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and we went downstairs to another iron gate. Mr. Merryweather showed us down a dark corridor to a third door, and into a huge cellar with massive boxes.

“You are not very vulnerable from above,” Holmes remarked as he looked about him.

“Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick on the floor. “Why, it sounds quite hollow!” he remarked, looking up in surprise.

“I must ask you to be a little more quiet!” said Holmes. “Would you sit down on one of those boxes, and be quiet?”

Mr. Merryweather sat down on a box, while Holmes fell on his knees on the floor and, with a lens, began to examine it. A few moments later he sprang to his feet again and put his lens in his pocket.

“We have at least an hour,” he remarked, “for they can hardly do anything until the pawnbroker is in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor, in the cellar of the City branch of one of the biggest London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the director, and he will explain to you why the criminals are interested in this cellar at present.”

“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had several warnings.”

“Your French gold?”

“Yes. Some months ago we borrowed 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It has become known that the money is still lying in our cellar. The box on which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons. The amount is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the directors have had fears on the matter.”

“And they were right about that,” observed Holmes. “And now it is time to put the screen over the lantern.”

“And sit in the dark?”

“I am afraid so. The enemy is very near and we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose our positions. I shall stand behind this box, and you will be behind those. If they fire, Watson, shoot them down.”

I put my revolver on the box behind which I hid. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in such an absolute darkness as I had never seen before.

“They have one way of escape,” whispered Holmes. “That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?”

“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.”

“Then we must be silent and wait.”

What a time it seemed! We waited for only an hour and a quarter, but it seemed to me that it was all the night.

Suddenly saw a light. At first it was only a spark on the floor. Then it became a yellow line, and then a hand appeared; a white hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area of light. With a loud noise, one of the broad, white stones turned over on its side and left a hole. I saw a boyish face, which looked about, and then a man drew himself up into the cellar. In another moment he stood at the side of the hole and was helping his companion, small like himself, with a pale face and very red hair.

Sherlock Holmes sprang out and seized the first man by the collar. The other dived down the hole, and I saw the first man holding a revolver, but Holmes struck the man’s hand, and the revolver fell on the floor.

“It’s no use, John Clay,” said Holmes. “You have no chance at all.”

“So I see,” the other answered. “But I think that my friend is all right.”

“There are three men waiting for him at the door,” said Holmes.

“Oh, indeed! You did your work very thoroughly. I must compliment you.”

“And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed idea was very new and effective.”

“Do not touch me with your filthy hands,” remarked our prisoner as Jones clicked the handcuffs. “You may not know that I have royal blood in my veins. When you address me, always say ‘sir’ and ‘please.’”

“All right,” said Jones. “Well, would you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your Highness to the police station?”

“That is better,” said John Clay. He bowed to the three of us and walked quietly off.

“Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar, “I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated one of the most dangerous attempts at bank robbery that I have ever heard of.”

“I am repaid by having defeated Mr. John Clay[47], and by hearing the very remarkable story of the Red-headed League,” said Holmes.

“You see, Watson,” he explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, “it was obvious from the first that the only possible object of this fantastic advertisement of the League, and the copying of the Encyclopaedia must be to get this not very clever pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of doing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Clay by the colour of his accomplice’s hair. The 4 pounds a week is a big sum, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one of them takes an office, the other makes the man apply for the position, and together they have him away from home every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistant who came for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive to get the position.”

“But how did you know what the motive was?”

“The man’s business was small, and there was nothing in his house worth such preparations. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant’s interest in photography, and his trick of diving into the cellar. The cellar! I made inquiries about this mysterious assistant and found that he was a well-known criminal in London. He was doing something in the cellar – something which took many hours a day for months. What could it be? I could think of nothing else but that he was digging a tunnel to some other building.

“When we went to visit the scene of action I surprised you by striking on the ground with my stick. I wanted to know whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn and dirty they were. They spoke of those hours of digging. I only wished to know what they were digging for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank next to our client’s house, and felt that I had solved my problem.”

“And how could you tell that they would make their attempt tonight?” I asked.

“Well, when they closed their League offices that showed that they did not need Mr. Jabez Wilson’s absence any longer – in other words, that their tunnel was ready. It was important to use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the money might be taken away. It was Saturday, and it gave them two days for their escape. So I expected them to come tonight.”

“Your ideas are brilliant,” I exclaimed in admiration.

“These little problems help me to escape from boredom of life,” he answered.

1. Answer the questions:

1. Whom did Dr. Watson meet when he arrived at Baker Street that night?

2. What did you learn about John Clay?

3. Where did Mr. Merryweather lead them?

4. What surprised Mr. Merryweather in the cellar?

5. What did Sherlock Holmes examine in the cellar?

6. Why were the criminals interested in the bank cellar at that very time?

7. Why did Sherlock Holmes want everybody to be quiet and sit in the dark?

8. What precautions had Sherlock Holmes taken before they came to the bank cellar?

9. Did they catch the criminals in the cellar?

10. How did Sherlock Holmes explain the purpose of Mr. Wilson’s work at the Red-headed League?

11. Why did Sherlock Holmes strike on the ground in front of the pawnbroker’s?

12. Why did Sherlock Holmes think that the criminals would try robbing the bank on that very night?

I had visited my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, in order to wish him the compliments of the season[48]. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack beside him on the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear[49], and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been hung ready for examination.

“You are busy,” said I. “Perhaps I interrupt you.”

“Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one,” – he pointed at the old hat, – “but there is something interesting and informative in connection with it.”

I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, because a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I said, “that, though it looks homely, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it – that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime.”

“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense crowd of people, every possible combination of events can take place, and many little problems will appear which may be striking and unusual without being criminal. We have already had experience of such cases.”

“So much so[50],” l remarked, “that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been free of any legal crime.”

“Exactly. You mean my attempt to get back Irene Adler’s papers, the unusual case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will be innocent too. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?”

“Yes.”

“This trophy belongs to him.”

“It is his hat.”

“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. Please, look upon it not as a seedy hat but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small celebration and was walking down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tall man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row began between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of them knocked off the man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to protect himself and, swinging it over his head, broke the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels[51], and vanished in the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also run away at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left alone on the field of battle. There remained also the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most excellent Christmas goose.”

“Which surely he restored to their owner?”

“My dear Watson, that is the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs. Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them.”

“What, then, did Peterson do?”

“He brought to me both hat and goose on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are interesting to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten as soon as possible. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.”

“Did he not advertise?”

“No.”

“Then, who could it be?”

“We can only deduce.”

“From his hat?”

“Precisely.”

“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old hat?”

“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this thing?”

I took the battered object in my hands and turned it over rather pitifully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were written upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. Apart from that, it was cracked, very dusty, and there were spots in several places, although he had tried to hide the discoloured places by concealing them with ink.

“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend.

“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. But you can not deduce from what you see. You are too uncertain in making your conclusions.”

“Then, please tell me what it is that you can deduce from this hat?”

He picked it up and gazed at it in the special introspective manner which was typical of him. “It is perhaps not so informative than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few conclusions which are very clear, and a few others which are highly probable too. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the look of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than before. It is a sign of a moral retrogression, which, when we take with the decline of his fortunes, seems to show some evil influence, probably drink, upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife stopped loving him.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, ignoring my objection. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grey hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.”

“You are certainly joking, Holmes.”

“Not in the least[52]. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you can not see how I have received them?”

“I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I can’t follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?”

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is a question of cubic capacity[53],” said he; “a man with so large a brain must have something in it.”

“The decline of his fortunes, then?”

“This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge appeared at that time. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has certainly gone down in the world.”

“Well, that is clear enough. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?”

Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. “They are never sold together with hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, as he went out of his way[54] to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is an obvious proof of retrogression. On the other hand, he has tried to conceal some of these stains upon the felt with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect.”

“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.”

“The other points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grey, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. There are a large number of hair ends, cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be sticky, and there is a smell of lime-cream. This dust, you will see, is not the grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside prove that the owner perspired very freely[55], and that’s why he could hardly be in good form.”

“But his wife – you said that she had stopped loving him.”

“This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with such a dusty hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s affection.”

“But he might be a bachelor.”

“No, he was bringing home the goose as a gift to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.”

“You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?”

“One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt[56] that the man must often be brought into contact with burning tallow – walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a candle in the other. Are you satisfied?”

“Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done except for the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.”

Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the room with the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment.

“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped.

“Eh? What’s the matter with it? Has it returned to life and flew out of the kitchen window?”

“Look, sir! Look what my wife found in its crop!” He held out his hand and showed a brilliantly shiny blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size. But it was so pure and radiant that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove[57], Peterson!” said he, “you’ve found a real treasure. I suppose you know what you have got?”

“A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty.”

“It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.”

“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I realized.

“Precisely so. l should know its size and shape, because I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and we can only imagine its value. The reward of 1000 pounds is offered, but it doesn’t make even a twentieth part of the market price.”

“A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy[58]!” The commissionaire sat down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us.

“That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would make the Countess give half her fortune away if she could but get the gem back.”

“It was lost, if I remember right, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I remarked.

“Precisely so, on December 22d, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having stolen it from the lady’s jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes[59]. I have something about it here, I believe.” He looked through his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he read the following paragraph:

“Hum! So much for[60] the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, putting aside the paper. “The question is what sequence of events is leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly become much more important and less innocent. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must find this gentleman and reveal his part in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first and advertise in all the evening papers.”

“What will you say?”

“Give me a pencil and that sheet of paper. Now, then:

Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have these things by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.

That is short and clear.”

“Very. But will he see it?”

“Well, I am sure he is keeping an eye on the papers because he has lost too much for a poor man. He was clearly so scared by breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that all he wanted was to run away, but since then he must have bitterly regretted dropping the bird. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers.”

“In which, sir?”

“Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James’s, Evening News Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you.”

“Very well, sir. And this stone?”

“Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say[61], Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring.”

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. “It’s a bonny[62] thing,” said he. “Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody crime. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and it is remarkable because it has every characteristic of the carbuncle, except that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would lead to the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strongbox now and write to the Countess to say that we have it.”

“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?”

“I cannot tell.”

“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?”

“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall know by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement.”

“And you can do nothing until then?”

“Nothing.”

“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, because I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.”

“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent events, perhaps I should ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.”

I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I returned to Baker Street. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle of the light. Just as l arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes’s room.

“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily take on. “Please take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I can see that your clothing is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?”

“Yes, sir, that is certainly my hat.”

He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, a broad, intelligent face, and a grey beard. A shade of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his hand, recalled Holmes’s proposition about his habits. His seedy black coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and there was no sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow manner, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a learned man who has been unfortunate recently.

“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I can not understand now why you did not advertise.”

Our visitor laughed shyly. “Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he said. “I was sure that the gang of roughs who attacked me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not want to spend more money hopelessly trying to find them.”

“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we had to eat it.”

“To eat it!” Our visitor has stood up in excitement.

“Yes, if we didn’t do so, it would be of no use to anyone. But I believe that this other goose, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will suit you equally well?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—”

The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as souvenirs of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see why I would need the disjecta membra[63] of my late acquaintance. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will take the excellent bird which I can see upon the sideboard.”

Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fancier, and I have rarely seen a better grown goose.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had stood up and taken his restored property under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum – we work in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, organised a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am so grateful to you, sir.” He bowed to both of us in a comical manner and left.

“So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?”

“Not really.”

“Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot.”

“Certainly.”

It was a cold night, so we wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we walked through the doctors’ quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes opened the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the red-faced landlord.

“Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” said he.

“My geese!” The man seemed surprised.

“Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club.”

“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, they are not our geese.”

“Indeed! Whose, then?”

“Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.”

“Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?”

“Breckinridge is his name.”

“Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night.”

“Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude unless we can prove his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may confirm his guilt but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police. A unique chance has placed it in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end[64]. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!”

We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. There was the name of Breckinridge upon one of the largest stalls, and the owner a horsy-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the shutters.

“Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes.

The salesman nodded and glanced questioningly at my companion.

“Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble.

“Let you have five hundred tomorrow morning.”

“That’s no good.”

“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.”

“Ah, but I was recommended to you.”

“Who by?”

“The landlord of the Alpha.”

“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.”

“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?”

To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman.

“Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head tossed and his arms akimbo, “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.”

“It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha.”

“Well then, I won’t tell you. So now!”

“Oh, it is not important; but I don’t know why you should be so angry over such a trifle.”

“Angry! You’d be as angry as me, maybe, if you were as annoyed as I am. When I pay good money for a good thing there should be an end of the business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you sell the geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them.”

“Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver[65] on it that the bird I ate is country bred.”

“Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped the salesman.

“It’s nothing of the kind.[66]”

“I say it is.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred.”

“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.”

“Will you bet, then?”

“It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I’ll have a sovereign on with you[67], just to teach you not to be stubborn.”

The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said he.

The small boy brought round a small thin book and a great greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.

“Now then, Mr. Cocksure[68],” said the salesman, “I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is still one left in my shop. You see this little book?”

“Well?”

“That’s the list of the people from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, then, here on this page are the country people, and the numbers after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.”

“Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road – 249,” read Holmes.

“Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.”

Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ”

“Now, then, what’s the last entry?”

“ ‘December 22d. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ”

“Quite so. There you are. And underneath?”

“ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ”

“What have you to say now?”

Sherlock Holmes looked deeply disappointed. He took a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamppost and laughed in the hearty, noiseless manner which was typical of him.

“When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ‘un’[69] in his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” said he. “I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I guess, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott tonight, or whether we should reserve it for tomorrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should—”

His remarks were suddenly interrupted by a loud noise which broke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, standing at the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure.

“I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come annoying me with your silly talk again I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?”

“No; but one of them was mine,” whined the little man.

“Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.”

“She told me to ask you.”

“Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care[70]. I’ve had enough of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

“Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. “Come with me, and we will see who this fellow is.” Making his way through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the stalls, my companion speedily caught the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He jumped off round, and I could see in the gaslight that every vestige of colour had disappeared from his face.

“Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering voice.

“You will excuse me,” said Holmes politely, “but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I think that I could be useful to you.”

“You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?”

“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don’t know.”

“But you can know nothing of this?”

“Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are triyng to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.”

“Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have needed to meet,” cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. “I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.”

Sherlock Holmes called a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept marketplace,” said he. “But please tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of helping.”

The man hesitated for a moment. “My name is John Robinson,” he answered with a sidelong glance.

“No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always awkward doing business with a fictious name.”

A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” said he, “my real name is James Ryder.”

“Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Please step into the cab, and I will soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know.”

The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the edge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, revealed the nervous tension within him.

“Here we are!” said Holmes cheerly as we entered the room. “The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Please take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Or rather, I believe, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested – white, with a black bar across the tail.”

Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell me where it went to?”

“It came here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, and it turned out to be a most remarkable bird. I don’t wonder that you should be interested in it. It laid an egg after it was dead – the brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum.”

Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the fireplace with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strongbox and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood staring at it with a tense face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.

“The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or you’ll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He’s not got blood enough[71] to go in for crime with impunity. Give him a drop of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!”

For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a shade of color into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser.

“I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need to tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar’s?”

“It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a crackling voice.

“I see – her ladyship’s[72] waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you[73]. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady’s room – you and your confederate Cusack – and you managed that he should be sent for. Then, when he had left, you opened the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and this unfortunate man was arrested. You then—”

Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion’s knees. “For God’s sake[74], have mercy!” he cried. “Think of my father! of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s sake, don’t!”

“Get back into your chair!” said Holmes strictly. “It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you haven’t thought of this poor Horner in the court for a crime of which he knew nothing.”

“I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will stop.”

“Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear the truth about what happened next. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, because there lies your only hope of safety.”

Ryder passed his tongue over his dry lips. “I will tell you it just as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I went to my sister’s house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and, though it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do.

“I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad[75], and has just been serving his time[76] in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I decided to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through on the way from the hotel. I might at any moment be caught and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were walking about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.

“My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word[77]. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds – a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I pushed the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the goose freed and lost himself among the others.

“ ‘What were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she.

“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.’

“ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you – Jem’s bird, we call it. It’s the big white one over there. There’s twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.’

“ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, I’d rather have that one I was handling just now.’

“ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we fattened it specially for you.’

“ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I.

“ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little offended. ‘Which is it you want, then?’

“ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.’

“ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’

“Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my friend what I had done, because he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had happened. I left the bird rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there.

“ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried.

“ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’

“ ‘Which dealer’s?’

“ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’

“ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same as the one I chose?’

“ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart.’

“Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as fast as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves tonight. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now – and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!” He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face closed with his hands.

There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’s fingertips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and opened the door.

“Get out!” said he.

“What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you[78]!”

“No more words. Get out!”

And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street.

“After all, Watson,” said Holmes, taking his pipe, “I am not engaged by the police to supply their inaccuracies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a crime, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you make him a jail-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the main feature.”

Holmes had been sitting for some hours in silence over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing something very unpleasant. His head was sunk upon his breast[79], and he looked from my point of view like a strange, skinny bird.

“So, Watson,” he said, suddenly, “you are not going to[80] invest money in South African securities[81]?”

I was very much surprised. Although I was accustomed to Holmes’s curious abilities, this sudden intrusion into my thoughts was rather incomprehensible.

“How on earth[82] do you know that?” I asked in amazement.

He turned his chair, holding a steaming test-tube[83] in his hand. I saw a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.

“Now, Watson, confess, you are confused,” he said.

“I am.”

“I should make you write this on the piece of paper and leave your signature.”[84]

“Why?”

“Because in five minutes you will say that it is all very simple and obvious.”

“I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind.”

“You see, my dear Watson”– he put aside his test-tube and began to lecture like a professor addressing his class —“it is not really difficult to construct a series of conclusions, each dependent on the previous one. And if you simply take away all the central elements and show your audience only the first and the last ones, it will produce an amazing effect. Now, when I noticed the groove between your left forefinger and thumb[85], it was not really difficult to understand that you do not want to invest your small capital in the goldfields.”

“I see no connection.”

“Well, I believe you, but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk between your left finger and thumb when you returned from the club last night. 2. You put chalk there for the cue[86] when you play billiards. 3. You play billiards only with Thurston. 4. You told me four weeks ago[87] that Thurston wanted to buy some South African securities and share them with you. 5. Your cheque-book is locked in my table, and you have not asked for the key. 6. You are not going to invest your money in anything.”

“So simple!” I cried.

“Yes, it is!” he said. “Every problem becomes very simple when it is explained to you. But here you are[88], this one is not explained yet. Let’s see what you can say, my friend Watson.” He gave me a sheet of paper and turned to his chemical analysis.

I looked with amazement at the strange symbols on the paper.

“Well, Holmes, it is a child’s drawing,” I said.

“Oh, that’s your idea!”

‘What else should it be?”

“That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt from Norfolk wants to know. He sent us this little puzzle and every minute we expect him. Oh, there’s a ring at the bell, Watson. I am not very much surprised if it is our guest.”

We heard heavy steps on the stairs, and a second later a tall gentleman entered. He had clear eyes and florid cheeks which told us that he led his life far from the fogs of Baker Street. He seemed to bring[89] strong, fresh air with him as he entered. He shook hands with[90] each of us and was going to sit down when he noticed the paper with the curious symbols, which I had just examined and left on the table.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you think about it?” he cried. “I heard that you liked strange mysteries, and this one is the strangest, I think! I sent the paper ahead so that you have time to study it before I came.”

“Yes, it is very curious,” said Holmes. “At first sight[91] one can think that it’s a child’s drawing. It consists of funny little dancing figures. Why do you pay so much attention on[92] such an object?”

“I don’t, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her to death[93]. She says nothing, but I can see fear in her eyes. That’s why I want to find everything out.”

Holmes took the paper and turned to the sunlight. It was a page from a note-book. The symbols were done in pencil, and were in this order —

Holmes examined it for some time, and then folded it carefully and put it in his pocket-book.

“This promises to be a very interesting and unusual case,” he said. “You gave me a few details in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I would be very grateful if you tell the story again, for my friend, Dr. Watson.”

“I’m not good at telling stories,” said our visitor. He was rather nervous. “You’ll just ask questions if something is unclear. I’ll begin from my marriage last year; but I want to say first of all, that although I’m not a rich man, my family has been at Ridling Thorpe for five centuries and it is well-known in the County of Norfolk. Last year I came to London and stopped at a boarding-house[94] in Russell Square. There was an American young lady there… Elsie Patrick. Somehow we became friends, until I fell in love with[95] her as a man could be. We got quietly married and returned to Norfolk as a couple. You’ll think it is very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good old family could marry a woman like this, knowing nothing of her past or of her family. But if you saw her and knew her it would help you to understand.”

“Elsie was very straight. She gave me an opportunity to think it over and cancel the wedding if I wanted to do so. ‘I have had something very unpleasant in my life,’ she said; ‘I want to forget all about it, because it is very painful to me. If you marry me, Hilton, you will marry a woman who did nothing wrong. But you will have to believe me and to allow me to be silent about my past to the time when I became yours. If these conditions are too difficult, then leave me and go back to Norfolk. And I’ll lead my lonely life here in which you found me.’ It was the day before our wedding. I told her that I agreed with her conditions, and I keep my word.”

“Well, we have been happily married already for a year. But about a month ago, at the end of June, for the first time I saw some signs of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from America. I saw the American stamp. She turned white[96], read the letter and threw it into the fire. She didn’t tell me anything, and I didn’t say a word, because a promise is a promise; but from that moment she has always been uneasy. There is always a look of fear on her face… a look as if she is expecting something. If only she trusted me – she would see that I was her best friend. But if she doesn’t speak, I can say nothing. She is an honest woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever trouble have been in her past life it is not her fault. I am only a simple Norfolk squire, but there is no one in England who values his family honour more than I do. She knows it well, and she knew it well before she married me. She will never leave any stain on it… I am sure.”

“Well, now I come to the strange part of my story. About a week ago… it was the Tuesday of last week… I found on one of the windowsills[97] some little dancing figures, like these on the paper. They were written with chalk. I thought that it was the stable-boy[98] who had drawn them, but he swore he knew nothing about it. Anyway, they had appeared there during the night. I had them washed out and mentioned the matter to my wife afterwards. To my surprise she took it very seriously[99], and asked me if any more figures appeared to let her see them. And yesterday morning I found this paper on the sun-dial in the garden. I showed it to Elsie, and she fainted. Since then her eyes have been full of terror. That’s why I wrote and sent the paper to you, Mr. Holmes. I think I couldn’t take it to the police, because they would have laughed at me[100], but you will tell me what to do. I am not a rich man; but if there is any danger threatening my wife I would spend my last money to save her.”

He was a kind person, this man of the old English soil, simple, straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue eyes and broad face. His love for his wife was true and his trust in her was touching. Holmes had listened to his story with the greatest attention, and now he sat for some time in silence.

“Don’t you think, Mr. Cubitt,” he said at last, “that it will be better to talk to your wife directly and to ask her to share her secret with you?”

Hilton Cubitt shook his big head.

“A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me she would. If not, I can’t make her to do[101] so. But I have the right to find out everything myself… and I will.”

“Then I will help you with all my heart[102]. So, first of all, have you heard of any strangers in your neighbourhood?”

“No.”

“I suppose that it is a very quiet place. You would notice any new face, wouldn’t you?”

“In my neighbourhood, yes. But we have several small villages not very far away. And the farmers rent houses.”

“These symbols have evidently a meaning. If it is random, it may be impossible for us to solve it. If, on the other hand[103], it is systematic, I am sure that we shall read this riddle. But this one is so short that I can do nothing. And the facts which you have told us are not enough that we have a basis for investigation. I would suggest that you return to Norfolk, that you watch everything closely, and that you take an exact copy of any dancing men which may appear. It is a pity[104] that we have not a copy of those which were done in chalk on the windowsill. Make inquiries[105] about any strangers in the neighbourhood. When you have collected some evidence, come to me again. That is the best advice which I can give you, Mr. Hilton Cubitt. If you need my help, I shall be always ready to come and see you in your Norfolk house.”

1. How did Sherlock Holmes impress Dr. Watson?

1) He knew what Dr. Watson wanted to say.

2) He knew what Dr. Watson was thinking about.

3) He managed to make a love potion.

4) He played the violin the whole day.

2. What method Sherlock Holmes use to produce an amazing effect on Dr. Watson?

1) He constructed a series of conclusions, each dependent on the previous one and took away all the central elements and showed only the first and the last ones.

2) He constructed a series of conclusions, each dependent on the previous one and showed only the last one.

3) He didn’t construct any series of conclusions and just guessed.

4) It is not mentioned in the text.

3. What did Dr. Watson think of a sheet of paper that Holmes gave him?

1) He thought it was a letter from Mr.Cubitt.

2) He thought it was a puzzle.

3) He thought it meant nothing.

4) He thought it was a child’s drawing.

4. What did Mr. Hilton Cubitt send to Sherlock Holmes?

1) A letter

2) A telegram

3) A letter and a puzzle

4) A postcard

5. What conditions did Elsie have before the marriage? Choose the right variants:

1) To let her be silent about her past.

2) To buy a lot of jewelry.

3) To believe her that she didn’t do anything wrong.

4) To invite all her relatives to the marriage.

6. How long have the Cubitts been married?

1) Six months

2) 10 years

3) 5 years

4) 1 year

7. Did Mr. Cubitt want to talk to his wife directly?

1) Yes, he did.

2) Yes, he did, but he couldn’t.

3) No, he didn’t. He didn’t take care of her.

4) No, he didn’t. He was afraid of her.

8. What was “the homework” for Mr Cubitt?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

9. Choose the right verbs:

She…………… me an opportunity to…………… it over and…………… the wedding if I wanted to…………… so.

1) gave, thought, canceled, do

2) gives, think, cancels, do

3) gave, think, cancel, do

4) had given, think, canceled, did

10. Complete the sentences with these words and expressions:

ago, at first sight, turned white, took it, shook hands, with all my heart

1) She……………, read the letter and threw it into the fire.

2) You told me four weeks…………… that Thurston wanted to buy some South African securities and share them with you.

3) Then I will help you…………….

4) To my surprise she…………… very seriously, and asked me if any more dancing figures appeared to let her see them.

5) …………… one can think that it’s a child’s drawing.

6) He…………… with each of us and was going to sit down.

11. Insert the right prepositions:

at, aside, to, from, for (2), about, in, of, into

1) But…………… a month ago…………… the end of June…………… the first time I saw some signs of trouble.

2) Although I was accustomed…………… Holmes’s curious abilities, this sudden intrusion…………… my thoughts was rather incomprehensible.

3) He looked…………… my point of view like a strange, skinny bird.

4) It consists…………… funny little dancing figures.

5) He put…………… his test-tube and began to lecture like a professor addressing his class.

6) Your cheque-book is locked…………… my table, and you have not asked…………… the key.

12. Complete the table:

After the interview Sherlock Holmes was very thoughtful. Several times in the next few days he took this piece of paper from his note-book and looked long at the curious figures on it. He didn’t share his ideas with me. But one day, two weeks later, when I was going out he said to me:

“You had better[106] stay here, Watson.”

“Why?”

“Because Hilton Cubitt called me this morning. Do you remember Hilton Cubitt, the case of the dancing men? He may be here at any moment. As far as I understood[107] there were some new incidents.”

We didn’t have to wait for a long time, because our Norfolk squire came straight from the station as fast as he could. He looked worried and depressed, his eyes were tired.

“It’s getting on my nerves[108], this business, Mr. Holmes,” he said, as he seated into the armchair. “I feel really bad, I’m surrounded by invisible unknown people, who want something from me and my family. But in addition to that it’s frightening to see that it’s slowly killing your wife. She’s just dying before my eyes, Mr. Holmes!”

“Has she said anything yet?”

“No, Mr. Holmes, she has not. Sometimes I saw that my poor wife wanted to speak, but could not do it. I have tried to help her; but I must say I’m a clumsy man in these things, and scared her off from it[109]. She has spoken about my old family, and our reputation in the county, and our pride and honour. And I always felt it was very close to the point… but somehow she couldn’t go further.”

“But you have found out something, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes. I have several fresh dancing men pictures for you, and, what is more important, I have seen that man.”

“What, the man who draws them?”

“Yes, I saw him while he was doing it. But I will tell you everything in order. When I got back after my visit to you, the very first thing I saw next morning was some fresh dancing men. They were drawn in chalk on the black wooden door of the tool-house, which stands beside the lawn in front of windows. I took an exact copy, and here it is.” He took out a paper and laid it on the table. Here is a copy of it:

“Excellent!” said Holmes. “Excellent! Pray, continue!”

“When I had taken the copy I washed the marks out. But two mornings later fresh symbols appeared. I have a copy of it here”:

Holmes rubbed his hands[110] and said with delight:

“Our material is quickly growing.”

“Three days later another message was left written on the paper. I found it on the sun-dial. Here it is. The symbols are, as you see, exactly the same as the last one. After that I decided to hide and wait. So I got out my revolver and I sat up in my room, from where I could see the lawn and garden. About two in the morning I was seated by the window, it was very dark, when I heard steps behind me, and there was my wife in her dressing-gown. She tried to persuade me to come to bed. I told her frankly that I wished to see who it was who played such stupid tricks on us[111]. She answered that it was just a silly joke, and that I should not think about it.

“‘If it really annoys you, Hilton, we might go and travel, you and I, and so avoid this nuisance.’

“‘What? It means that we will leave our own house because of some jokers?’ I said. ‘The whole county will be laughing at us.’

“‘Well, come to bed,’ she said, ‘and we can discuss it in the morning.’

“Suddenly, as she spoke, I saw that her pale face became paler, and her hand grabbed mine. Something was moving in the shadow of the tool-house. I saw a dark figure which stopped in front of the door. I took my revolver and was going to run out, when my wife tried to stop me and held me with her arms. I tried to get rid of her, but she held me very desperately. At last I broke free[112], but by the time I had opened the door and reached the house the man disappeared. He had left some dancing men, but their arrangement was the same, which the previous and which I have copied on that paper. I couldn’t find that man anywhere, although I ran all over the garden. But the amazing thing is that he must have been there all the time, because when I examined the door again, he had drawn some more of his pictures under the line which I had already seen.”

“Do you have that fresh drawing?”

“Yes, it is very short, but I made a copy of it, and here it is.”

Again he showed a paper. The new dance was in this form:

“Tell me,” said Holmes – and I could see that he was very much excited – “was this an addition to the first, or did it appear separately?”

“It was on a different panel of the door.”

“Excellent! This is very important for us. It fills me with hopes. Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, please continue your interesting story.”

“I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was angry with my wife that night. She held me when I could catch this terrible man. She said that she feared that he could hurt me. For a second an idea came to my mind that perhaps what she really feared was that I could hurt him. I could not doubt that she knew who this man was and what he meant by these strange symbols. But my wife has such a tone in her voice, Mr. Holmes, and a look in her eyes which forbid doubt – I am sure that she told me the truth. That’s it, and now I want your advice, what I should do. My own idea is to ask my farm friends to hide in the garden, and when this man comes again we can give him such a lesson[113] that he will leave us in peace.”

“I fear it will not be enough,” said Holmes. “How long can you stay in London?”

“I must come back today. I can’t leave my wife alone all night. She is very nervous and begged me to come back.”

“I think you are right. But then we could return together in a day or two. Anyway, leave me these papers, and I think that I’ll visit your house soon. And we’ll be able to throw some light on[114] your case.”

Sherlock Holmes looked professionally calm until our visitor had left us. But it was easy for me, who knew him so well, to see that he was very excited. The moment that Hilton Cubitt’s left, my friend rushed to the table, laid out all the pieces of paper containing dancing men in front of him and began examining them.

For two hours I watched him – he was very busy copying dancing men and writing letters, he was so completely occupied with this task that he had evidently forgotten about me. Sometimes he was making progress[115] and whistled or sang something. Sometimes he became puzzled, and could sit for hours looking absent-minded. Finally he jumped up from his chair with a cry of satisfaction, and walked up and down the room rubbing his hands together. Then he wrote a long telegram.

“If my answer to this is right, you will have a very pretty case to your collection, Watson,” he said. “I think that we should go down to Norfolk tomorrow. And we will finally solve this puzzle, which worries our friend so much.”

Of course I was filled with curiosity, but I knew that Holmes liked to make his conclusions at his own time and in his own way. So I waited.

1. When did Mr. Cubitt visit Sherlock Holmes again?

1) The next day

2) A week later

3) A month later

4) Two weeks later

2. Why did Mr. Cubitt look worried and depressed?

1) His wife was very afraid.

2) This business was getting on his nerves.

3) He didn’t like London.

4) Sherlock Holmes couldn’t help him.

3. Why couldn’t Mr. Cubitt just talk to his wife and find out the truth?

1) He was afraid of his wife.

2) He was scary and he didn’t want to scary her off.

3) He had no time for it.

4) He was a clumsy man in these things.

4. What did he find out?

1) He brought some new drawings of dancing men and saw the man who drew them.

2) He caught the joker – it was his stable-boy.

3) He didn’t find out anything.

4) He found out that there were several men who drew these pictures.

5. What was Mrs. Cubitt’s suggestion?

1) To hide and wait

2) To travel in order to avoid this nuisance

3) To sell the house

4) To call the police

6. Why was Mr. Cubitt angry with his wife?

1) She didn’t want to come to bed.

2) She didn’t want to talk to him.

3) She told him that she knew this man.

4) She held him when he could catch this man.

7. What did Sherlock Holmes do when Mr. Cubitt left?

1) He was tired and went to bed.

2) He decided to have dinner and then started working.

3) He started working, he was very busy copying dancing men and writing letters.

4) He solved the riddle very quickly and wrote a long telegram.

8. Why didn’t Sherlock Holmes share his ideas with Dr. Watson?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

9. Choose the right line:

Sherlock Holmes…………… to the table…………… out all the pieces of paper…………… dancing men in front of him and…………… examining them.

1) was rushing, lay, contained, began

2) rushed, lay, containing, began

3) rushed, laid, containing, began

4) was rushing, laid, containing, beginning

10. Complete the sentences with these words and expressions:

as far as, played such stupid tricks, on my nerves, a lesson, progress, had better

1) When this man comes again we can give him such…………… that he will leave us in peace.

2) I told her frankly that I wished to see who it was who…………… on us.

3) “…………… I understood there were some new incidents.”

4) Sometimes he was making…………… and whistled or sang something.

5) “You…………… stay here, Watson.”

6) “It’s getting……………, this business, Mr. Holmes,” he said.

11. Insert the right prepositions:

out, by, from(3), for, about, in, of(2), with

1) So I got…………… my revolver and I sat up in my room…………… where I could see the lawn and garden.

2) Something was moving…………… the shadow…………… the tool-house.

3) He was so completely occupied…………… this task that he had evidently forgotten…………… me.

4) We didn’t have to wait…………… a long time, because our Norfolk squire came straight…………… the station as fast as he could.

5) It means that we will leave our own house because…………… some jokers?

6) I’m surrounded…………… invisible unknown people, who want something…………… me.

12. Complete the table:

But the answer came only in two days, during which Holmes was very impatient. At every ring at the bell he jumped to his feet. In the evening we received a letter from Hilton Cubitt. He said that all was quiet there, but that morning a long inscription had appeared on the sun-dial. He sent us a copy of it, here it is:

Holmes stood with this piece of paper for some minutes, examining it, and then suddenly he turned to me. His eyes were full with anxiety.

“We have let this affair go far enough[116],” he said. “Is there a train to North Walsham tonight?”

I looked it up in the time-table. The last train had just gone.

“Then we shall have breakfast early and take the very first train in the morning,” said Holmes. “We must be there. Ah! And here is also our expected telegram. One moment, Mrs. Hudson. There must be an answer. Yes, it means I was right. This message makes it evident that we should not lose any minute. We must explain what’s the matter[117] to Hilton Cubitt. It is a very dangerous web in which our simple Norfolk squire is caught.”

So, as I come to this part of my story (which before had seemed to me only childish and strange) I feel once again the fear and horror with which I was filled then. I’d like to tell my readers that there will be a happy end, but I can’t. This book should be truthful. I must tell the facts and I must follow them to the strange chain of events which some day will be the talk of the whole England.[118]

We had hardly arrived at[119] North Walsham, and said where we were going to, when the station-master[120] came up to us. “I suppose that you are the detectives from London?” he said.

Holmes was very much worried.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because Inspector Martin from Norwich has just arrived. But maybe you are the doctors. She’s not dead… not yet. You may be in time[121] to save her… although it doesn’t matter – she will come to the gallows[122].”

Holmes’s eyes became very anxious.

“We are going to Ridling Thorpe Manor,” he said, “but we haven’t heard anything what had happened there.”

“It’s a terrible business,” said the station-master. “They are shot, both Mr. Hilton Cubitt and his wife. She shot him and then herself… so the servants say. He’s dead and she is doomed to death. Oh my God, one of the oldest families in the County of Norfolk, and one of the most honoured.”

Without a word Holmes hurried to a carriage, and during the long seven miles’ drive he didn’t open his mouth. Seldom have I seen him so gloomy. He had been uneasy during all our journey from Baker Street, and I had seen that he had turned over the morning papers with anxious attention. But now this sudden realization of his worst fears came. He was sitting in his seat, thinking about everything. But there were a lot of interesting views there. We were passing through a country-side of England, where there were few houses, beautiful churches. Green landscape told of the glory and prosperity of old East Anglia. At last the driver pointed on the two roofs out of trees.

“That’s Ridling Thorpe Manor,” he said.

We came up to the front door. I looked around and saw the black tool-house, the sun-dial, with which we had such strange associations. An active little man with moustache had just come down from the carriage. He introduced himself as Inspector Martin, and he was very much surprised when he heard the name of my friend.

“But Mr. Holmes, the crime was only committed at three this morning. How could you hear of it in London and come here as soon as I?”

“I guessed it. I was hoping I could stop it.”

“Then I think you have some important evidence that we haven’t. Because we don’t know what to think – they were a very united couple.”

“I have only the evidence of the dancing men,” said Holmes. “I will explain everything to you later. However, it is very sad that it is too late to stop this tragedy… I hope that I can use the information that I know in order to help justice. Will you allow me to help you in your investigation, or will you prefer me to act independently?”

“I will be proud if we are working together, Mr. Holmes,” said the inspector.

“In that case I’ll be glad to hear the evidence[123] and to examine the place where it had happened.”

Inspector Martin was a clever man. He allowed my friend to do everything in his own way, he just watched and made some notes. The local doctor, an old, white-haired man, had just come down from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt’s room. He said that her injuries were serious, but not fatal. The bullet had hit her brain[124], and it would take some time[125] before she could speak. But the doctor couldn’t answer the question whether she had been shot or had shot herself. But certainly it happened at a very short distance. They found only one revolver in the room. Mr. Hilton Cubitt was shot in the heart. It was equally possible that he had shot her and then himself, or that she was the criminal, because the revolver lay on the floor right between them.

“Has anyone moved him?” asked Holmes.

“We have moved nothing except the lady. We could not leave her here, she was wounded and lying on the floor.”

“How long have you been here, doctor?”

“Since four o’clock.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yes, the policeman is here.”

“Have you touched nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Good. Who sent for you?”

“The housemaid, Saunders.”

“Was it she who gave the alarm[126]?”

“She and Mrs. King, the cook.”

“Where are they now?”

“In the kitchen, I think.”

“Then I think we had better hear their story now.”

The old hall with big windows turned into a court of investigation[127]. Holmes sat in a great, old-fashioned chair. I could read in his severe eyes that he was ready to devote his life to this case. He didn’t manage to save his client, it was too late. But at least he could take revenge[128]. Inspector Martin, the old country doctor, myself and a policeman made up the rest of that company.

The two women told their story clearly enough. They woke up because of a loud sound of an explosion, in a minute they heard a second one. They slept in different rooms, and Mrs. King had run to Saunders. Together they came to the room – the door was open and a candle was burning on the table. Their master lay on his face in the centre of the room. He was dead. Near the window his wife was sitting. She was horribly wounded, and her face was red with blood. She breathed heavily, but couldn’t say anything. The corridor and the room were full of smoke and the smell of powder. The window was shut. Both women were sure of it. They had sent for the doctor and for the policeman at once. Then, with the help of the groom and the stable-boy, they carried Mrs Cubitt to her room. She had a dress on, Mr. Cubitt was in his dressing-gown, over his night clothes. Nothing had been moved in the room. As far as Mrs. King and Saunders knew, husband and wife never quarreled. They were a very united couple.

These were the main points of the servants’ evidence. They were sure that every door was locked from the inside, and that no one could have escaped from the house. They both remembered that they noticed the smell of powder when they ran out of their rooms. “It’s important to pay attention to[129] this fact,” said Holmes to us. “And now I think that we can do a careful examination of the room.”

The room was really small. There were a lot of book shelves and a writing-table at the window, which looked out on the garden. The body of the poor squire was lying on the floor. The bullet was fired at him from the front, and remained in his body. His death was certainly painless. There was no powder on his dressing-gown or on his hands. The country doctor said the lady had stains on her face, but none on her hands.

“Well, it means nothing, although the stains on the hands may mean everything,” said Holmes. “I think that Mr. Cubitt’s body may be removed now. So, doctor, you have not taken the bullet out which wounded the lady?”

“A serious operation is necessary. But there are still four patrons in the revolver. Two have been fired and there are two wounds.”

“It only seems so,” Holmes said. “Could you explain me then what’s this on the window-frame? It’s a mark of one more bullet.”

He turned suddenly, and his long, thin finger was pointing to a hole in the window-frame.

“Oh my!”[130] cried the inspector. “How did you notice that?”

“Because I looked for it.”

“Wonderful!” the country doctor said. “You are certainly right, sir. Then there was a third shot, and a third person must have been there. But who? And how did he manage to run away?”

“That is the problem which we have to solve,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Do you remember, Inspector Martin, when the servants said that they noticed a smell of powder when they left their rooms? And I said that this is very important?”

“Yes, sir. But I am afraid that I do not understand you.”

“It means that the door and the window were open during the firing. A draught was necessary to spread the smell of powder through the house. Both door and window were only open for a very short time, however.”

“How can you prove that?”

“Because the candle didn’t go out[131].”

“True!” the inspector cried.

“So if the window had been open at the time of the tragedy, it means that there was a third person, who stood outside and shot through the window. Any shot at this person might hit the window-frame. I looked there and yes, there was the bullet mark!”

“But the window was shut and locked…”

“The woman’s first instinct would be to shut and lock the window. But… what is this?”

It was a lady’s hand-bag which lay on the table, a little hand-bag of crocodile-skin and silver. Holmes opened it. There were twenty fifty-pound notes of the Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band[132].

“It will be necessary in the trial,” said Holmes and gave the bag to the inspector. “Now let us concentrate on this third bullet. It was certainly fired from the inside of the room. I’d like to see Mrs. King, the cook, again… You said, Mrs. King, that you woke up because of a loud explosion. When you said that, did you mean that it was louder than the second one?”

“Well, sir, it is hard to say, because the moment before I was sleeping. But yes, it was very loud.”

“Don’t you think that it was two shots fired almost at the same time?”

“I am not sure, sir.”

“I believe it was. Inspector Martin, I think we’ve learned everything from this room. If you don’t mind, we shall see what fresh evidence are there in the garden.”

There was a flower-bed just under the window and we were very much surprised when we saw that it was in a mess[133]. There were a lot of footmarks on it. Large feet of a man with long, sharp toes. Holmes started looking for something, like a retriever for a wounded bird. Then he cried with satisfaction and picked up a little bullet.

“I thought so,” he said, “I think, Inspector Martin, that our case is almost complete.”

1. Was Holmes happy to receive a letter and a telegram?

1) Yes, he was. He wanted to finish the case as fast as he could.

2) Yes, he was. He needed good news.

3) No, he wasn’t. He was worried when he received them.

4) No, he wasn’t. He didn’t want to work.

2. Why did Holmes decide to visit the Cubitts at once?

1) He wanted to talk with Mrs. Cubitt.

2) He was tired with Baker Street.

3) He solved the riddle and wanted to explain everything to Mr. Cubitt.

4) He wanted to know some details for his investigation.

3. How did Holmes feel when he found out what had happened?

1) He was worried and nervous and couldn’t work.

2) He was very gloomy and decided to come back home.

3) He was ready to devote his life to this case, he wanted to take revenge.

4) He started crying.

4. What were Mrs. King and Saunders sure of?

1) That Mrs. Cubitt killed her husband.

2) That the window was shut.

3) That there were only two shots.

4) That the cubitts were not united.

5. How did Holmes explain that the window was shut?

1) The smell of the powder didn’t spread through the house.

2) The man’s first instinct would be to shut and lock the window.

3) The woman’s first instinct would be to shut and lock the window.

4) The criminal was very careful.

6. What was in the lady’s hand-bag?

1) A letter with the dancing men

2) A gun

3) A ticket to America

4) Twenty fifty-pound notes of the bank of England

7. Where did Holmes find the third bullet?

1) In the window-frame

2) In the garden

3) On the floor

4) In the lady’s hand-bag

8. Describe Inspector Martin:

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

9. Choose the right verbs:

Together they…………… to the room – the door…………… open and a candle…………… on the table.

1) were coming, was, burned

2) come, was, was burning

3) were coming, was, was burning

4) came, was, was burning

10. Complete the sentences with these words and expressions:

the alarm, the talk of, in a mess, what’s the matter, time, pay attention

1) It would take some…………… before she could speak.

2) I must tell the facts and I must follow them to the strange chain of events which some day will be…………… the whole England.

3) We must explain…………… to Hilton Cubitt.

4) Was it she who gave……………?

5) We were very much surprised when we saw that the flower-bed was…………….

6) “It’s important to…………… to this fact,” said Holmes to us.

11. Insert the right prepositions:

of, for (2), in (2), to, with, on (2)

1) There were a lot of footmarks…………… it. Large feet of a man…………… long, sharp toes.

2) Now let us concentrate…………… this third bullet.

3) Mr. Hilton Cubitt was shot…………… the heart.

4) Holmes stood with this piece of paper…………… some minutes, examining it, and then suddenly he turned…………… me.

5) Both door and window were only open…………… a very short time, however.

6) They woke up because…………… a loud sound of an explosion…………… a minute they heard a second one.

12. Complete the table:

The country inspector’s face showed amazement. At first he had his own position, but now he was filled with admiration and was ready to follow without question wherever Holmes led.

“Whom do you suspect?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you later. There are several points in this problem which I haven’t explained to you yet. But I think it will be better if we wait a bit, and then I’ll explain everything.”

“As you wish, Mr. Holmes, but we must catch the murderer.”

“I don’t want to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment to start long and difficult explanations. I have the threads of this affair all in my hand[134]. Even if this lady should never recover we can still reconstruct the events of last night. First of all I’d like to know whether there is a hotel in this neighbourhood, called ‘Elrige’s’?”

We asked the servants, but none of them had heard of such a place. Only the stable-boy remembered that a farmer of that name lived some miles in the direction of East Ruston.

“Is it a lonely farm?”

“Very lonely, sir.”

“Perhaps they have not heard yet of all that happened here during the night?”

“Maybe not, sir.”

Holmes thought for a little and then he suddenly smiled.

“Saddle a horse, boy,” he said. “Take a note to Elrige’s Farm.”

He took out from his pocket all the pieces of paper with the dancing men. He worked with them for some time at the table. Finally he gave a note to the boy. He said to put it into the hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially not to answer any questions. I saw the note – it was addressed to Mr. Abe Slaney, Elrige’s Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.

“I think, inspector,” Holmes said, “if my calculations are correct, you should telegraph for an escort. We may catch a very dangerous prisoner. The boy who takes this note could help with your telegram. If there is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we should take it, because I have to finish my chemical analysis, and this investigation comes to an end.”

When the boy with the note left, Sherlock Holmes gave some instructions to the servants. If any visitor came to Mrs. Cubitt, they shouldn’t tell him anything about what had happened. And he should be led right to the living-room. He said it was very important. Finally he seated in the living-room and said that we must wait until we could see what would happen. The doctor left to his patients, and only the inspector and I remained.

“I think that now I can help you to spend this hour in an interesting way,” said Holmes. He came up to the table and spread out in front of him the various papers on which were drawn the dancing men.

“As to you, my friend Watson, I should finally satisfy your curiosity. To you, inspector, the whole story may seem remarkable. I must tell you how I met Mr. Hilton Cubitt in Baker Street.” He shortly told the facts which have already been mentioned.

“So who knew that these childish symbols could lead to such a tragedy! I know all forms of secret writings and I am the author of some, by the way[135]. But this is new to me. The man who invented this one, tried to conceal that these symbols could have a meaning and presented them as drawings of children.”

“However, when I understood that the symbols stood for the letters, the solution was easy enough. The first message was so short that it was impossible for me to read it. But I guessed that the symbol

meant E. As all we know, E is the most common letter in the English alphabet, and even in a short sentence we could find it most often[136]. There were fifteen symbols in the first message, four were the same. So it was reasonable to mark them as E. In some cases the figure was with a flag in his hands and in some cases not. And I came to an idea that the flags were used to break the sentence up into words.”

“And that’s it. It would be an endless task to try all the letters until the message was meaningful. That’s why I waited for fresh material. In my second interview with Mr. Hilton Cubitt he gave me two other short sentences and one message, which was (there was no flag) a single word. Here are the symbols. Now, in the single word I have already got the two E’s: the second and the fourth letter in a word of five letters. It might be ‘sever’, or ‘lever’ or… ‘never’. There is no doubt[137] the latter as a reply is the most probable. And we can assume that it was a reply written by the lady. Now we can say that these symbols mean N, V and R.”

“Even now I was in some difficulty[138], but suddenly it occurred to me[139] that if this person, who drew these dancing men, had been close with the lady in her past, a combination which contained two E’s with three letters between might mean the name ‘ELSIE’. It was certainly some appeal to ‘Elsie’. In this way I had got my L, S, and I. But what appeal could it be? There were only four letters in the word before ‘Elsie,’ and it ended in E. Surely the word must be ‘COME. ‘ I tried all other words ending in E, but ‘COME’ was the most appropriate. So now I had C, O, and M. And I started reading the first message once more. It was like this:

M.ERE..E SL.NE.

“Now the first letter can only be A, which repeats three times in this short sentence. And the H is also obvious in the second word. Now it becomes:

AM HERE A.E SLANE.

Or, if we fill the rest in the name:

AM HERE ABE SLANEY.

I had so many letters now that I could read the second message, which was:

A. ELRI.ES.

Here I could only put T and G for the missing letters. I thought it was the name of some house or hotel at which the man was staying[140].”

Inspector Martin and I had listened with interest to the full story how our friend managed to solve this riddle of the dancing men.

“What did you do then, sir?” asked the inspector.

“I guessed that this Slaney was an American, because Abe is an American name, and because a letter from America gave a start of all the trouble. I was sure that there was some criminal secret here. The way the lady spoke about her past helped me to think so. I called my friend from New York, Wilson Hargreave, policeman. I asked him whether the name of Abe Slaney was known to him. Here is his reply: ‘The most dangerous cheater in Chicago’. That evening Hilton Cubitt sent me the last message from Slaney. It took this form:

ELSIE.RE.ARE TO MEET THY[141] GO.

I completed the message with a P and a D which showed me that this man was now threatening. I at once came to Norfolk with my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, but, unfortunately, the worst had already happened.”

“It is great to work with you, Mr. Holmes,” said the inspector, warmly. “You will excuse me, however, if I speak frankly to you. I’m responsible for this case. If this Abe Slaney is really the murderer and if he has escaped while I’m sitting here, I’ll get into serious trouble[142].”

“Don’t worry. He will not escape.”

“How do you know?”

“To escape would be a confession of guilt.”

“Then let us go to arrest him.”

“No, we expect him here every minute.”

“But why should he come?”

“Because I have written to him and asked him.”

“But this is incredible, Mr. Holmes! Why should he come because you have asked him? Isn’t it suspicious?”

“I think I have written the letter correctly,” said Sherlock Holmes. “In fact, if I am not mistaken[143], here he comes.”

A man was walking up the path which led to the door. He was very tall and handsome, dressed in a grey suit, with a Panama hat. He had a black beard and a great hooked nose. He walked up the path with the face as if the place belonged to him. We heard a ring at the bell.

“I think, gentlemen,” said Holmes, quietly, “that we had better take up our position behind the door. It is necessary to take every precaution[144] when you deal with such a person. You will need your handcuffs, inspector. I will talk.”

We waited in silence for a minute… one of those minutes which one can never forget. Then the door opened and the man stepped in.

1. Was Inspector Martin happy to work with Mr. Holmes?

1) Yes, he was, it was great to work with him.

2) Yes, he was but at first he didn’t like him.

3) No, he wasn’t but at first he liked him.

4) No, he wasn’t because he could get into serious trouble.

2. Why didn’t Sherlock Holmes explain everything to his colleagues at once?

1) He liked to make mysteries.

2) He didn’t want to share it with anybody.

3) He had no time.

4) It would take time and he wanted to act immediately.

3. Who was Elrige?

1) A farmer

2) A policeman

3) A doctor

4) A cheater

4. What was the first letter that Holmes guessed?

1) K

2) M

3) I

4) E

Why?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

5. Why was Inspector Martin worried that Abe Slaney could escape?

1) He was responsible for this case.

2) He forgot his handcuffs.

3) He had no escort to help him.

4) Sherlock Holmes talked too much.

6. Why did Holmes call the policeman from New York?

1) He wanted to know if the name Abe Slaney was American.

2) He wanted to know if Mrs. Cubitt was known to him.

3) He wanted to ask for his advice.

4) He wanted to know if Abe Slaney was a criminal.

7. Why couldn’t Slaney escape?

1) He was in handcuffs.

2) He wanted to be sent in prison.

3) It would be a confession of guilt.

4) It wasn’t mentioned in the text.

8. Describe Abe Slaney:

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

9. Choose the right verbs:

If any visitor…………… to Mrs. Cubitt, they shouldn’t…………… him anything about what…………….

1) came, told, happened

2) came, tell, had happened

3) had come, tell, had happened

4) come, told, happened

10. Complete the sentences with these words and expressions:

no doubt, difficulty, by the way, every precaution, mistaken, get into, occurred

1) In fact, if I am not……………, here he comes.

2) Even now I was in some……………, but suddenly it…………… to me that this person had been close with the lady in her past.

3) It is necessary to take…………… when you deal with such a person.

4) There is…………… that the latter as a reply is the most probable.

5) If this Abe Slaney is really the murderer and if he has escaped while I’m sitting here, I’ll…………… serious trouble.

6) I know all forms of secret writings and I am the author of some…………….

11. Insert the right prepositions:

by, into, for, in, to, with, at, without

1) He worked with them…………… some time…………… the table.

2) Finally he gave a note…………… the boy.

3) And we can assume that it was a reply written…………… the lady.

4) I think that now I can help you to spend this hour…………… an interesting way.

5) Inspector Martin was filled……… admiration and ready to follow…………… question wherever Holmes led.

6) And I came to an idea that the flags were used to break the sentence up…………… words.

12. Complete the table:

In a second Holmes put a pistol to the man’s head[145] and Martin put the handcuffs on. It was all done so quickly that the man was helpless before he knew that he was attacked. He looked at us and started laughing.

“Well, gentlemen, you have caught me this time. I have no choice. But I came here in answer to a letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt. Don’t tell me that she is with you! Don’t tell me that she helped to set a trap for me[146]!”

“Mrs. Hilton Cubitt was seriously injured and is dying now.”

“You’re crazy!” he cried, furiosly. “It was he who was hurt, not she! Who could hurt my little Elsie? Yes, I threatened her, God forgive me, but I didn’t touch a hair of her pretty head. Don’t say such things… you! Say that she is not hurt!”

“We found her near her dead husband, and she was terribly wounded.”

He groaned and hid his face in his hands. For five minutes he was silent. Then he raised his face and spoke with cold despair.

“I have nothing to hide from you, gentlemen,” he said. “I shot the man but he also had his shot at me, so it’s not a murder. But if you think that I could hurt that woman, then you don’t know me… and her. I always loved her. No one loved a woman more than I loved her. I had a right to her.[147] Who was this Englishman that came between us? I tell you that I had the first right to her, and that I was here to get her back.”

“She ran away from you when she found out who you are,” said Holmes, severely. “She left America to escape from you, and she married an honourable gentleman in England. You followed and frightened her. You wanted to persuade her to leave the husband whom she loved and respected. She feared and hated you. So you killed Mr. Cubitt and nearly made Mrs. Cubitt to commit suicide.[148] That is what you’ve done, Mr. Abe Slaney, and you will answer for it in the trial.”

“If Elsie dies I don’t care what happens,” said the American. He opened one of his hands and saw a note.

“Look, mister!”, he cried, with suspicion in his eyes, “You’re not trying to cheat me, are you? If the lady is hurt, who wrote this note?” He threw it on the table.

“I wrote it,” said Holmes.

“You? No one except us knew the secret of the dancing men! How could you write it?”

“What one man can invent another can discover,” said Holmes. “A cab is coming to escort you to Norwich, Mr. Slaney. However, you have time to make something useful. Do you know that Mrs. Hilton Cubitt has been accused of the murder of her own husband? And that it was only the knowledge which I had that has saved her from the accusation? The least that you can do for her is to say to the world that she was in no way[149] responsible for his tragic end.”

“I’ll do it,” said the American. “I guess I should tell you the whole truth.”

“It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you,” cried the inspector.

“I’ll try,” Slaney said. “First of all, you should understand that I have known this lady since she was a child. There were seven of us in a gang in Chicago, and Elsie’s father was the boss. He was a clever man. It was he who invented that writing. Well, Elsie found out who we were and she didn’t like it. She had some honest money and decided to leave the country and go to London. Elsie was engaged to me, and she said that she would marry me if only I had taken another profession. But she didn’t want to marry a cheater.

Only after her marriage to this Englishman I found out where she was. I wrote to her, but didn’t get an answer. After that I came to London and, as letters were useless, I wrote my messages where she could read them.”

“Well, I have been here a month now. I lived in that farm, where I had a room downstairs, and could get in and out every night, and no one could see me. I tried to persuade Elsie to come back. I knew that she read the messages, because once she wrote an answer under one of them. Then I began to threaten her. She sent me a letter then, she asked me to go away and said that it would break her heart if anyone found out something. She said that she would come down when her husband was asleep at three in the morning. She said she would speak with me through the window, if I would go away afterwards and leave her in peace. She came down and brought money with her, she tried to pay me. This made me mad[150], and I caught her arm and tried to pull her through the window. At that moment her husband ran in with the revolver in his hand. Elsie fainted, and we were face to face[151]. I was armed also, and I raised my gun to frighten him and let me get away. But he fired and missed. I shot almost at the same moment, and he fell backwards. I ran across the garden and I heard that someone shut the window. That’s all, gentlemen, every word is truthful. And I heard nothing until that boy came with a note, which made me walk here and give myself into your hands.”

A cab was already here. Two policemen sat inside. Inspector Martin rose and said:

“It is time for us to go.”

“Can I see her?”

“No, she is not ready for this. Mr. Holmes, I’m pleased to work with you. I hope that if I have another important case, I’ll be lucky to meet you again.”

We stood at the window and watched the cab. I turned my back and saw a piece of paper which Slaney had thrown on the table. It was the note which Holmes had written to him.

“See if you can read it, Watson,” he said, with a smile.

There was this little line of dancing men.

“If you use the code which I have explained,” said Holmes, “you will find that it means simply ‘Come here at once’. I was sure that he wouldn’t refuse, because he couldn’t even imagine that someone else except Mrs. Cubitt could write it. So, my dear Watson, finally we’ve managed to use these dancing men for something good, when they have been so often the agents of evil. And I think that I was right, now you can add this curious story to your collection. It’s three-forty, our train is soon. We’ll be back in Baker Street for dinner.”

Only one word of epilogue. The American, Abe Slaney, was sentenced to death[152] at Norwich. But the punishment was changed to hard labour[153], as it was proved that Hilton Cubitt had fired first. As for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt, I only know that she recovered completely, and that she still remains a widow. She has devoted her life to the care of the poor and to the administration of her husband’s estate.

1. What did Abe Slaney do after he had been attacked?

1) He started fighting.

2) He started laughing.

3) He started crying.

4) He was so amazed that he couldn’t do anything.

2. Why was Slaney shocked when Holmes told him that Mrs. Cubitt was hurt?

1) He never shot at women.

2) He didn’t want to believe that she could have commited suicide.

3) He loved her.

4) He thought that he missed.

3. Why did he say that he had a right to her?

1) They were married.

2) He was too confident.

3) They were engaged.

4) He usually got everything what he wanted.

4. Why did Elsie run away from Slaney?

1) He threatened her.

2) He hit her.

3) She wanted to be independent.

4) She found out that he was a cheater.

5. Who invented the secret writing with the dancing men?

1) the boss of the gang

2) Elgie

3) Abe Slaney

4) Sherlock Holmes

6. How did Slaney know that Elsie was reading his messages?

1) She washed them out.

2) She left an answer once.

3) She called him.

4) It is not mentioned in the text.

7. Did Slaney want to kill Elsie’s husband?

1) Yes, he did. Mr. Cubitt made him mad.

2) Yes, he did but he couldn’t do it.

3) No, didn’t. He wanted just to frighten him.

4) No, he didn’t but Elsie asked him for it.

8. Why was Abe’s punishment changed?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

9. Choose the right verbs:

She asked me to…………… and said that it…………… her heart if anyone…………… something.

1) went away, would break, found out

2) go away, will break, found out

3) go away, would break, would find out

4) go away, would break, found out

10. Complete the sentences with these words and expressions:

set a trap, in no way, was sentenced, commit, put, made

1) This…………… me mad, and I caught her arm and tried to pull her through the window.

2) Abe Slaney…………… to death at Norwich.

3) So you killed Mr. Cubitt and nearly made Mrs. Cubitt to…………… suicide.

4) The least that you can do for her is to say to the world that she was…………… responsible for his tragic end.

5) Don’t tell me that she helped to…………… for me!

6) In a second Holmes…………… a pistol to the man’s head.

11. Insert the right prepositions:

after, of, out(2), into, with, to(3), in(2)

1) I had a room downstairs and could get……… and……… every night.

2) She has devoted her life……… the care of the poor.

3) Mrs. Hilton Cubitt has been accused……… the murder of her own husband.

4) I heard nothing until that boy came……… a note, which made me walk here and give myself……… your hands.

5) ……… her marriage……… this Englishman I found……… where she was.

6) But I came here……… answer……… a letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt.

12. Complete the table:

13. Questions to think about:

1) What helps Sherlock Holmes to solve such difficult riddles?

2) Is Slaney the only man who is guilty in this story?

3) For whom do you feel sorry?

4) What are the starting point, culmination and outcome of this story?

5) Try to reconstruct the alphabet of the dancing men.