Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 1

Chapter 4 Research on Scarlet Characters 4
Holmes' speculation was once again confirmed.This surprised me again, and I was in awe of his ability to analyze the problem like this.Still, a thought popped into my mind again: Was the whole thing prearranged to dazzle me?But what is the motive for deceiving me like this?I have no way of knowing.When I turned to look at him, he had finished reading the letter, looking thoughtful, with a vacant look in his eyes.

"How did you figure that out?" I asked.

He asked gruffly, "What do you speculate?"

"How do you know that man is a retired Marine sergeant?"

"I don't have time to talk about it," he said impatiently, and then he smiled again, "forgive me for being rude, because you interrupted my train of thought just now, but it's all right. Can't you see that the man Ever been a Sergeant in the Marine Corps?"

"Yes, I can't see it."

"Actually, it's easy, but it's hard for me to explain how to deduce it. It's like asking you to prove that two plus two equals four. Although you know it's an indisputable fact, if someone asks you Prove this, and you'll be at a loss. I saw a man across the street with a big blue anchor tattooed on the back of his hand, which is the symbol of a sailor. He has a military demeanor and a military beard. , so I said he was a Marine. I presume he was a Sergeant because of his haughty attitude and commanding air, and you'll probably notice the way he swung his staff, too, and A steady middle-aged man. All this leads me to believe he was a sergeant."

"Wonderful!" I couldn't help exclaiming.

"That's nothing," said Holmes, though judging by his expression, he was pleased at my surprise and admiration. "I said just now that there are no criminals, but now it seems that I was wrong-look at this!" He threw the letter he had just received in front of me.

I glanced at it briefly, and couldn't help but exclaimed: "Oh, this is terrible!"

"There is something extraordinary about it," he said quietly. "Would you please read it aloud to me?"

Here is the letter I read to him: "Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

There was a homicide last night at [-] Garden Street, Lauriston, at the end of Brixton Road.Our patrolman saw a light there around [-]am.Since it was an empty house, the patrolman suspected that something was wrong.He found the door open and the front room empty of any furniture, but with the dead body of a man.The corpse is well-dressed and has a business card in its pocket that reads 'Enoch? J?Draper, Cleveland, Ohio'.There was no sign of looting at the scene, nor was there any evidence to indicate the cause of death of the deceased.There was blood in the room, but there were no marks on the body of the deceased.We have not been able to determine how the deceased entered the empty house.The whole case is a mystery.If you can come to the venue before twelve o'clock, I will be here waiting for you.I'm going to leave everything as it is until I get your pointers.If you can't come, I'll let you know the details.It would be very grateful for your advice.

Your faithful Tobia?Gregson"

Holmes said: "Gregson is a very able officer at Scotland Yard. He and Ray Mired are the best of the lot. They are quick and energetic, but old-fashioned--surprisingly old-fashioned." And they're as jealous of each other as two women who are laughing. If they're both involved in the same case, it's going to be a good show."

I couldn't help being extremely surprised to see how calm he still looked. "You can't lose a minute now," I cried. "Shall I fetch you a carriage?"

"I haven't made up my mind whether to go there or not. I'm one of the few lazy people in the world—when I'm lazy, of course. I'm usually very hardworking."

"But isn't this the opportunity you've been looking forward to for a long time?"

"My good man, what does this matter have to do with me? Even if I solve this mystery, Gregson and Remired will definitely credit them. This is the unofficial people's results."

"But he's begging you to help him."

"Yes. He knows I'm better than him, and admits it to my face, but he'd rather cut out his own tongue than admit it in front of a third party. But we might as well go Take a look. I can do some research myself. Even if I can't find anything, I can read their jokes. Come on!"

He hastily put on his overcoat, and the haste in which he showed that he was getting ready, the previous indifference was gone.

"Put your hat on," he said.

"Do you want me to go too?"

"Yes, if you have nothing else to do." A minute later we were all in a two-seater carriage and sped down Brixton Road.

It was a misty morning with dark clouds in the sky.The roof is covered with a gray curtain, which looks like a "reflection" of the muddy street below.My companion was in high spirits, babbling on about violins from Cremona, Italy, and the difference between a Stradivari violin and an Emmadi violin, while I was silent because of the dreary weather and the unfortunate events that had happened .

At last I could not help interrupting Holmes' conversation, saying: "You seem not to be paying much attention to the case."

"I don't have any materials. I won't make any assumptions and judgments before I fully understand it." He replied.

"You will be able to grasp all the materials soon." I pointed to the front, "That's where the accident happened."

"Yes, that's right here, coachman, stop quickly!" When we were still a hundred yards away from the accident site, we got out of the car and walked over.

No. 3 Lauriston Garden Street is gloomy and ominous, and it looks like a haunted house.There are a total of four houses here, a little far from the street, two of which are occupied, and two of which are vacant, and No. 3 is one of them.It faced the street, with three rows of windows, and on the dusty panes there were "for rent" posters, as if the eyes had grown cataracts, and the scenery was bleak and lifeless.There is a small garden in front of each house, separating them from the street.The small garden is overgrown with weeds and gives people a sense of ruin.The garden was surrounded by a low wall of palisades, fully three feet high.There is a small road in the middle, paved with clay and stones. It rained heavily last night and the road is already muddy.Outside the garden, some loafers, with wide-eyed eyes, stretched their necks and looked into the house. A tall policeman leaned against the wall to watch outside.

Holmes was not so anxious to enter the house as I had imagined.He walked up and down the sidewalk, seemingly indifferently, staring at the ground, at the sky, at the house and at the wooden fence on top of the wall.I thought at the time that his appearance was simply mystifying.After surveying, my friend took the path in the garden and walked slowly with his head down.In fact, he walked along the grass beside the road, carefully surveying the road.During the survey, he stopped twice, and once with a satisfied smile on his face.He also heard a cry of satisfaction.I wondered what he was expecting to find on this muddy, police-trodden road.For, although there were many footprints on the road, anyone could see that they were left by the policemen coming and going.The original footprints may have been covered by the footprints of the police.However, I still believe in his keen observation ability, and believe that he can find many things that I can't see.

At the door of the house, a tall policeman ran over enthusiastically, with yellow hair and white face, holding a notepad in his hand, holding my partner's hand, and said happily: "You are finally here, I have secured the scene , intact."

"Except that!" said Holmes, pointing to the path. "It is worse than a herd of buffalo had trodden it. Gregson, you seem to have come to that conclusion."

The detective said: "I am busy in the house, and Mr. Raymond is in charge of the outside." His hesitant and evasive appearance obviously concealed his uneasiness.

"With people like you and Raymond present, of course the third person won't find anything," Holmes said slightly mockingly.

"I think we have tried our best. This case is a bit bizarre, which suits your appetite." Gregson was a little proud.

"Have you come in a carriage?" asked Holmes.

"No, and neither is Remy Red."

"Then let's go into the room and have a look." After asking these puzzling words, Holmes strode into the room.Gregson followed, surprised.

A passage leading to the kitchen was covered with dust.There is a door on the left and right of the aisle.One of them looked like it hadn't been opened in a long time.The other is the door of the restaurant, where the tragedy happened.Holmes went in, and I followed, feeling heavy and nervous at the thought that this was a scene of murder.

The dining room was large, and the lack of furniture made the square room seem even more spacious.The walls are pasted with gaudy wallpaper, some places are already covered with patches of mildew, and some places the wallpaper has peeled off in large pieces, exposing the yellow whitewashed walls.Directly opposite the door was an ornamented fireplace with a mantel of artificial marble and a red wax head at one corner.The only window was very dirty, and the light that came in after adding decorations made it appear gray, which also made everything in the room cast a layer of dark gray luster, and the thick accumulation of dust added to the gloomy atmosphere.

(End of this chapter)