The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 104 The Return (19)
"So you sent letters to my husband, the noblest man in the world, and I was not worthy to tie his shoes. Those letters broke his righteous heart, and he died. You remember last night, I came in through that door and begged you to have mercy on me. You laughed at me, and you still want to laugh at me, but your cowardly heart makes your lips tremble. Yes, you never thought we were here again, and just now It was that night that I learned how to see you face to face, and alone. Charles Milverton, what have you got to say?"

He stood up and said, "Don't think you can threaten me. I just have to yell and my servants will arrest you in no time. But I forgive you for not being able to restrain your anger, and you will be as soon as you come." No matter how you go, I won't say anything."

The woman stood with her hands on her breast, still with a murderous smile on her thin lips.

"You will never destroy more people's lives like you destroyed mine. You will never strangle more people's hearts like you did my heart. I will kill you for the world This poison, you vicious dog, take this shot, one shot, one shot, one shot, and another shot!"

She pulled out a shiny little pistol, and bullet after bullet fired into Milverton's chest, within two feet of his chest.He flinched, then fell forward on the desk, coughing violently, scratching among the papers with his hands.At last he staggered to his feet, was shot again, rolled on the floor, said aloud, "You killed me," and lay still.The woman looked at him intently before kicking him in the upturned face with her heel.She glanced at him again, but still saw nothing from him.Then there was a rustling of clothes, and the cold night air blew into the accidental room, and the Avengers were gone.

Even if we intervene, this man will inevitably die.As the woman shot after shot hit Milverton's crouching body, I wanted to spring out, and Holmes' icy hand squeezed hard around my wrist.I understood what he meant: this is none of our business, it is justice to bring down a villain, and we should not forget the responsibility and purpose of our coming here.No sooner had the woman rushed out than Holmes, taking a few brisk steps, appeared at the other door, and turned the key of the lock.Then we heard voices and hurried steps in the house.The gunshots alarmed everyone in the house.Holmes walked quickly and composedly to the opposite side, stood by the safe, took up the bundle of letters in both hands, and threw them all into the fireplace.He held it again and again until the safe was empty.At this moment someone turned the doorknob and knocked hastily on the door.Holmes looked back quickly.The letter that pronounced Milverton's doom still lay on the table, spattered with his blood.Holmes threw it, too, into the blazing flames.He drew the key of a door leading to the outside, and we went out one after the other, locking it from the outside.He said: "This way, Watson. This way we can get out over the garden wall."

It's unbelievable how quickly the alarm spread.I looked back and saw that all the lights in this big house were on.The front door was open, a figure was running down the path, and the whole garden was noisy and full of people.When we came out of the balcony, a guy yelled "catch" and followed us closely.Holmes, who seemed to know the terrain like the back of his hand, moved swiftly through the undergrowth, and I followed him, our pursuer panting.There was a six-foot wall in front of us, and Holmes scrambled over it in one fell swoop.As I jumped up, I felt a hand catch my ankle, but I kicked it away, climbed over the grassy wall, and fell on my face among the bushes, where Holmes picked me up instantly. .Together we galloped on, across the Helmsted Heath, and continued for two miles before stopping to listen for a moment.There is silence behind us, we have got rid of our pursuers, and we are safe and sound.

I recorded this unusual adventure above.We were smoking our cigarettes after breakfast the next morning when Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, was ushered into our humble drawing-room by a stern-looking servant.

He said, "Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Excuse me, are you busy now?"

"It's not too busy to answer you."

"I thought that if you had nothing special at hand, you might be willing to assist us in a very curious case which took place in Hampstead last night."

"Ah, what kind of case?" said Holmes.

"Murder--a monstrous and unusual murder. I know you are very interested in such cases, and I would be most obliged if you would go to the Abeldota and give us some advice. .we've been spying on this Mr. Milverton for a while and honestly he's just a villain. He's been known to have written material from other people for extortion and profiteering. The killers burn it all No valuables were taken, so the prisoners may have been people of status, and their purpose was simply to prevent these materials from being passed on to society."

"Prisoners? Is there more than one?" said Holmes.

"Yes, there were two of them, and they were almost caught red-handed. We have their shoe prints, we know what they look like, and nine times out of ten we'll track them down. The first man was pretty nimble, the second A man was captured by an apprentice gardener and managed to escape after a struggle. The man was of medium height, strong, with a square jaw, a thick neck, sideburns, and a mask."

Sherlock Holmes said: "That is rather vague. It sounds as if you are describing Watson."

Lestrade quipped: "Really, I seem to be describing Watson."

Holmes said: "Lestrade, I'm afraid I can't do you a favor. I know this fellow Milverton, and I think he's one of the most dangerous men in London. I think the law has crimes beyond its control, so in To a certain extent, private revenge is justified. No, there is no need to say any more. I have already decided. I have sympathy for the prisoner, not for the victim, so I will not pursue this case."

Holmes said not a word to me that morning about the murder we had witnessed.I could see that he had been brooding, and from his bewildered eyes and absent-mindedness he gave me the impression that he was trying to remember something.We were having lunch when he stood up suddenly and exclaimed: "My God! Watson, I remember! Put on your hat! Let's go together!" He walked quickly out of Baker Street to Oxford Street and continued on. Go on, we're almost at Regent Street Square.Just to the left, there is a shop window filled with photographs of famous people and ladies of the time.Holmes stared at one of them, and I followed his gaze to see an elegant and stately royal woman in royal attire, with a high diamond-studded tiara on her head.I carefully looked at the gently curved nose, the thick eyebrows, the straight mouth, and the strong chin.I held my breath as I read the old and noble title of this woman's husband - a great statesman and nobleman.We glanced at each other, and as we turned away from the window he put a finger to his lips and signaled me to keep silent on the matter.

Six busts of Napoleon
Mr Lestrade of Scotland Yard used to come to our place in the evenings for a chat.Holmes welcomed his arrival, because he could learn from the sheriff what cases the police headquarters was handling.Holmes always listened attentively to the details of this gentleman's handling of the case. At the same time, he combined his profound knowledge and rich experience to put forward some suggestions and opinions to the other party in a timely manner.

One evening after Lestrade had talked about the weather and the news in the papers, he smoked his cigar in silence.Holmes looked at him eagerly, and asked: "Any unusual case at hand?"

"Ah, Mr. Holmes, there is no—nothing in particular."

"Then tell me."

Lestrade smiled, and said: "Well, Mr. Holmes, there is no need to hide my feelings. But the incident is so grotesque that I hesitate to tell you. On the other hand, it is a small matter, but Very strange. Of course I know you are interested in all things unusual. But it seems to me that this matter has more to do with Dr. Watson."

I said, "Illness?"

"Madness, to say the least, and strange madness at that. Can you imagine such a thing? People who live today hate Napoleon so much that they would smash his image."

Holmes leaned back in his chair and said, "The matter really has nothing to do with me."

"Yes, I said it was none of our business. But when this man breaks in and smashes someone else's Napoleon, it's not as simple as sending him to the doctor, it's sending him to the doctor." Come to the police."

Holmes sat up straight again, and asked curiously, "Robbery? This is very interesting. Please tell me the details."

Lestrade took out his diary and opened it, in case he missed something.He said: "The first case was reported four days ago. It happened at Moss Hudson's shop. He had a picture and figurine shop on Connington Street. The clerk had just left the counter for a moment when he Hearing something being smashed, he ran outside the shop and found a statue of Napoleon on the counter with other works of art smashed to pieces. He rushed into the street, although several passers-by said They saw a man running out of the store, but he didn't find him, and he didn't recognize the hooligan. It was like a random act of hooliganism that happens every now and then. The clerk reported the incident to the patrol. A few shillings, and this was more of a hoax than worthy of a special investigation.

"However, the second case is far more serious and peculiar. It happened just last night.

"About two or three hundred yards from Moss Hudson's shop in Connington Street, there lived a doctor named Barnico, who was visited by many people all over the South Bank of the Thames. His house and The main practice was in Connington Street, and he had a branch and dispensary two miles away in Lower Brixton Street. The Barnico admired Napoleon so much that his house was full of references to the French Emperor. Books, paintings, and relics. Not long ago he bought two replicas of a bust of Napoleon from a shop in the Hudson. in the hall of the house, and another on the mantelpiece of the clinic in Lower Brixton Street. Dr. Barnico was surprised when he came downstairs this morning to find that his house had been broken into during the night, but nothing but the hall Nothing else was lost except the plaster head of Napoleon inside, which appeared outside under the garden wall, smashed to pieces."

"It is indeed a novelty," said Holmes, rubbing his hands repeatedly.

"I think this will certainly interest you. But I'm not done yet. Dr. Barnico came to his clinic at twelve o'clock at noon and found the windows open and the room full of another bust of Napoleon." You can imagine his astonishment. The base of the bust was also broken into tiny pieces. These two events did not leave any clues to the culprit, or madman, who perpetrated this prank. This, Mr Holmes, is what happened."

"It is a strange thing," said Holmes, "and certainly absurd. I wonder if the two busts smashed at Dr. Barnico's house and clinic are the same as the one at the Hudson store?" Replica of the model?"

"It's made from a model."

"This fact negates the assertion that the man broke the bust out of hatred for Napoleon. We know that there are tens of thousands of statues of the French Emperor throughout the city of London. It is impossible for anyone to express objection only from these three replicas. Therefore, this view is inappropriate."

Said Lestrade: "I thought so at first, too. But Moss Hudson was the only statue dealer in that part of London, and these three statues were in his shop for a long time. So, although as you say, there are tens of thousands of statues in London, it is very likely that there are only these three statues in that area. Therefore, the madmen in this area start with these three. What do you think, Dr. Watson ?”

I replied: "The manifestations of paranoia are various and unlimited. There is a kind of manifestation called "paranoid idea" by contemporary French psychologists, which means that you are only stubborn on one small thing, and the In other respects, he is completely sober. A person who has read too much Napoleon's deeds, is too impressed, or his family has inherited some psychological defects caused by the war at that time, can completely form a kind of paranoid idea', under the influence of which he may go into a frenzy of fantasies and do crazy things."

Holmes shook his head and said: "My dear Watson, it cannot be explained in this way. For whatever the influence of the 'paranoid idea', the paranoid patient will not be allowed to find out where these heads are distributed."

"Then how do you explain it?"

"I don't want to explain. I just observed that these eccentric behaviors of this gentleman follow a certain method. For example, in the hall of Dr. Barnicker's house, the slightest noise will wake up the whole family, so the bust is taken first. It was shattered outside; while in the clinic, there was no danger of alarming others, the bust was shattered on the spot. These seemingly insignificant details, but experience tells me that I should not easily regard anything as irrelevant. Do you remember, Watson, how that nuisance at the Abagnetts was brought to my attention? It was merely from seeing how deep celery sinks in butter on a hot day. Lestrade, so I can't just laugh at your three broken busts, if there is any new development in this series of strange events, if you can tell me in time, I will be deeply grateful to you."

What my friend wanted to know about unfolded faster and more tragically than he could have imagined.I was dressing in my bedroom early the next morning when I heard a knock at the door when Holmes appeared with a telegram in his hand.He read it aloud to me:

Come to 131 Pitt Street, Kensington at once.

Lestrade
I asked: "What's going on?"

"Don't know--anything could happen. But I'm guessing it's a new development in the bust story. If so, our bust-breaking friend has already started moving around in other parts of London. Coffee on the table, Watson, I have summoned a carriage, hurry up!"

Half an hour later we were in Pitt Street.It's a spooky alley in the neighborhood of one of the busiest parts of London. 131 is one in a row of neatly beautiful and functional homes.Before our carriage had reached us, we saw curious people crowding the fence in front of the house.Holmes passed through the crowd whistling.

"My God, at least it's a murder! Now London's newsboys are yelling all over the street. Look, that man's shoulders are hunched, his neck is stretched out, and what is it if it's not violence? Watson, what is this?" What's the matter? The upper steps were washed, and the others were dry? Oh, and there's a lot of footprints! Here, Lestrade's at the front window. We'll know all about it in a moment."

The officer greeted us with a serious face and led us into a living room.An old man in a flannel dressing gown was seen pacing unsteadily up and down.Lestrade introduced to us that he was the owner of the house, Mr. Horace Harker of the Central News Syndicate.

"The bust of Napoleon again," said Lestrade. "Mr. Holmes, you seemed very interested in it last night, so I thought you would be glad to be here. Now it's getting very serious."

"How serious is it?"

"It's serious enough to be murder. Please, Mr. Harker, tell these gentlemen exactly what happened."

Mr. Harker said: "This incident is too strange. I have been collecting other people's news all my life, but now a real news happened to me, so I was confused, disturbed, and couldn't write a word. Yes. If I came here as a reporter, I would have to interview myself and write two stories for the Evening Post. In fact, I did cover a lot of different people because of my work, but I am at my wit's end today. I have heard your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and if you can explain this singularity, I shall not be wasting my time in telling you."

Holmes sat down and listened quietly.

(End of this chapter)