The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 124 The Hound of the Baskervilles (5)
We walked down Regent Street as we talked, and Dr. Mortimer and his companions ahead of us were long gone.

"There is no point in following them now," said Holmes. "The stalker will never return when he is gone. We must consider which cards we have left in our hands and use them to our advantage." Decisive. Can you recognize the face of the person in the car?"

"I only recognize his beard."

"I could too—but I reckon it's a false beard. A lock of beard is of no use to a clever man engaged in such delicate work but to conceal his features. Come in, Watson! "

He walked into a local helper's agency, and the manager gave us a warm welcome.

"Oh, Wilson, I don't think you've forgotten that little case I helped you with?"

"No, sir, I really haven't. You saved my reputation, and maybe even my life."

"That's an exaggeration, old chap. Wilson, I recall a boy named Cartley among your men who was quite capable during that investigation."

"Yes, sir, he's still with us."

"Can you call him out? Thank you! And I hope you will change this five-pound note."

A bright, quick-witted 14-year-old kid came at the manager's beck and call.He stood there, staring at the great detective in reverence.

"Give me the London Hotel Guide," said Holmes. "Thank you! Well, Cartley, here are the names of twenty-three hotels, all of which are near Cherine's Cross. Do you see that?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're going to visit these hotels one by one."

"Yes, sir."

"You give the porter a shilling every time you come to a house, here is twenty-three shillings."

"Yes, sir."

"You tell them you're looking for yesterday's scraps. You say you're looking for an important telegram that's been mis-delivered. Do you understand?"

"Understood, sir."

"But what you're really looking for is a copy of The Times with scissors making little holes in it. Here's a copy of The Times, this one. You'll recognize it easily, can you Do you recognize it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Each time, the gate keeper calls the parlour keeper and asks, and you give him a shilling. Another 23 shillings. In 23 hotels you'll probably find most of the waste paper yesterday They've all been burned or shipped away, and three or four of them may point you to a pile of scrap papers, where you'll look for the Times, and you'll probably find nothing there. Here. Another ten shillings for urgent needs. Send a telegram to my house in Baker Street before evening to report the results of the search. Now, Watson, the next thing we have to do is to telegraph to find out. The coachman with the number No. 2704, and go to an art gallery on Securities Street to while away the time before we go to the hotel."

Five, three broken clues
Sherlock Holmes has a high degree of self-control and is free to control his emotions.

The strangeness that haunted us seemed to have been forgotten for two hours, and he was absorbed in the paintings of the late Belgian masters.From the time we left the gallery until we reached the Northumberland Hotel he talked of nothing but art.In fact, his understanding of art is very superficial.

"Sir Henry Baskerville is waiting for you upstairs," said the cashier. "He told me to wait for you, and take you up as soon as he comes."

"You don't mind if I wish to see your passenger register?" said Holmes.

"Not at all."

It can be seen from the register that after Baskerville there were two more groups of guests.One was the Shophaelus Johansen family of Newcastle, and the other was Mrs. Omor and her maid from High Rocky, Oton.

"I must know this Johnson," said Holmes to the porter. "He is a lawyer, with gray hair and a limp, is he not?"

"No, sir, this Mr. Johansen is a coal mine owner, a lively gentleman, not older than you."

"You must have mistaken his occupation?"

"Yes, sir! He has lived in our hotel for many years, and we know him well."

"Ah, that's fine. And Mrs. Omo, I seem to remember the name, please forgive my curiosity, but when visiting a friend, I often meet another friend, this is also a common thing."

"She's a very sick lady, sir. Her husband was Lord Mayor of Gloucestershire. She always stays with us when she comes to London."

"Thank you. I'm afraid I can't say she is my acquaintance."

"These questions we have just asked illustrate a very important fact, Watson," he continued in a low voice, as we went upstairs together, "that we now know that those who are most interested in our friend, Didn't live in the same hotel as him. That is to say, while they were as keen to spy on him as we've seen, they were also very concerned about being seen by him. Ah, the fact That's pretty telling."

"What does it mean?"

"It says—God, my dear friend, what's the matter?"

We were almost at the top of the stairs when we met Sir Henry Baskerville approaching.His face was flushed with anger, and he held an old dusty high leather shoe in his hand.He was too angry to speak, and when he spoke, his voice was much higher than it had been in the morning, and his accent was much stronger.

"They in this hotel look like I'm a bully," he cried. "Let them be careful, or they'll know they've got the wrong man for their joke. What a shame! If they can't find me Lost shoes, and there will be serious trouble. I am the last person to be afraid of a joke, Mr. Holmes, but this time they have gone too far."

"Still looking for your leather shoes?"

"Yes, sir, it must be found."

"But you said that what you lost was a new high brown leather shoe?"

"Yes, sir. But now I've lost an old black shoe."

"What, didn't you say..."

"I was just about to say that I have three pairs of shoes, the new brown ones, the old black ones, and the patent leather shoes I'm wearing now. They took one of my brown shoes last night and today they stole it from me A black one—hey, did you find it? Come on, hey, don't just stand there staring!"

A terrified German waiter came and said, "No, sir. I've asked all over the hotel, but I can't find anything."

"Well, bring me back the shoes before sunset, or I'll go to the boss and tell him, and I'll leave the hotel immediately."

"It will be found, sir, as long as you can bear it a little longer, I promise you will find it."

"I hope so. I shall not lose any more in this den of thieves--Kah, Mr. Holmes, please forgive me for troubling you with such trifles..."

"I think it's a very remarkable thing."

"Oh, you take it too seriously."

"How do you explain this?"

"I don't want to explain at all. It seems like the most infuriating and strange thing that has ever happened to me."

"Perhaps the strangest thing..." said Holmes meaningfully.

"What do you think of the matter?"

"Oh, I dare not say I understand it now. This case of yours is a complicated one, Sir Henry. To connect it with your uncle's death, I dare not say that, after the five hundred Is there one of the most important cases that has as many twists and turns as this one. But we have several clues in our hands, and one of them must lead us to the truth. We may also waste some time on the wrong road. But sooner or later we'll find the right clue."

We had a pleasant lunch, during which we seldom talked about the case.After dinner, Holmes asked Baskerville in the drawing-room what his plans were.

"To Baskerville Hall."

"When?"

"weekend."

"In short," said Holmes, "I think your decision is wise. I have good evidence that you are being followed in London, and in such a large city it would be difficult to ascertain who these people were in the crowds." Who, what is their purpose. If they are malicious, they may cause misfortune to you, and we are afraid that there is nothing we can do to prevent it from happening. Doctor Mortimer, you do not know that you have been stared at since you came out of my house this morning. Are you on?"

Dr. Mortimer was taken aback, and asked, "Targeted?! By whom?"

"I'm sorry, but we haven't figured this out. Are there any neighbors and acquaintances in Dart Moor who have long black beards?"

"No... well, let me see... Ah, by the way, Sir Charles' steward, Barrymore, has a black beard."

"Ah! where is Barrymore?"

"He's in charge of the estate."

"We'd better check to see if he's actually still there, maybe he's in London."

"How can you prove that?"

"Give me a telegram. Write 'Is everything ready for Sir Henry?' and that will do. Send it to Baskerville Hall, to Mr. Barrymore. Where is the nearest telegraph office to the Hall? Is it Greenpings?" Well, we'll send another telegram to the postmaster at Greenping, and write 'Mr. Barrymore's telegram to me. If not available, please call back and inform Sir Henry Baskerville of the Northumberland Inn'. That's it. Come on, we can find out before night if Barrymore is still at his job."

"That's a good idea," said Baskerville, "but, Doctor Mortimer, what kind of man is this Barrymore?"

"He is the son of the late old housekeeper, whose family has looked after the estate for four generations, and as far as I know, he and his wife were a very respectable couple in the country."

"At the same time," said Baskerville, "it is clear that as long as no one from our family lives on the estate, these people are too comfortable to do anything."

"This is the truth."

"What did Barrymore benefit from Sir Childs' will?" asked Holmes.

"He and his wife got five hundred pounds each."

"Ah! Did they know they were going to get the money?"

"Yes, Sir Childs is fond of talking about his will."

"It's interesting."

"I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you will not cast a suspicious eye upon anyone who benefits from Sir Childs' will, for he also left me a thousand pounds."

"Really? Who else got it?"

"The will also gave small sums to some persons and a large sum to public charity, and the rest went to Sir Henry."

"How much surplus is there?"

"74 pounds."

Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I really did not expect such a large number."

"Sir Childs is famously rich, but we did not know how rich he was until we examined his securities. It turned out that the total value of the whole property was about a million pounds."

"Dear me! One must gamble as hard as one can at such a stake. But there is one more question, Dr. Mortimer, and if any misfortune should happen to our young friend--please forgive me." It's an inappropriate assumption—who will inherit the property?"

"As Roger Baskerville, brother of Sir Childs, died unmarried, the property should have passed to his distant cousin, the Desmonds. James Desmonds of Westmoreland an elderly pastor."

"Thank you. These details are remarkable. Have you seen Mr. James Desman?"

"Yes, he came to visit Sir Charles once. He was a dignified man, and lived the life of a saint. I also remember that he refused to accept any inheritance from Sir Charles, although Charles Sir Zeus has insisted on giving it."

"Is this man of no taste to be the heir to Sir Charles's great fortune?"

"He will be the heir to the estate, because that is what the law says. He will also inherit the money, unless the present owner makes another will, and of course he has the power to dispose of it as he pleases."

"Sir Henry, have you made a will?"

"No, Mr. Holmes. I haven't had time yet, for I learned the truth of the matter only yesterday. But, in any case, I feel that money should not be separated from title and estate. Such is the will of my poor uncle." Yes. How can the master revive the Baskervilles if he does not have enough money to maintain the estate? The estate must never be separated from the money."

"Exactly. Ah, Sir Henry, I agree with you that you should go to Devonshire at once. On one condition, however, that you must not go alone."

"Dr. Mortimer will go back with me."

"However, Dr. Mortimer has his medical staff, and his home is miles away from yours, and I am afraid that, though he takes great care for you, he cannot help you. No, Sir Henry, you must find another worthy A trustworthy person, he must always be with you."

"Is it possible for you to go yourself, Mr. Holmes?"

"If it came to a serious crisis, I would do my best to do it myself, but you know I have to be consulted and asked from all sides, and it is impossible for me to leave London indefinitely. At present there is a very respectable English characters are being threatened and slandered, and only I can stop this grievous slander. You can see how impossible it is now to send me to Dutt Moor."

"Then who are you going to let go?"

Holmes patted the back of my hand and said: "If my friend is willing, there is no one more suitable than him to have a companion and protection in your desperate situation. And no one can make me feel more at ease."

I was momentarily overwhelmed by this unexpected suggestion.Before I could answer, Baskerville took my hand, and shook it enthusiastically.

"Ah, Dr. Watson, thank you very much," said he; "you know my position, you know as much about it as I do, and if you would come to Baskerville Hall to accompany me, I would Will always be in my heart.”

Adventure has always fascinated me, and I was touched by the compliments I received from Holmes, and from the Baronet as a companion.

"Sure, I'd love to," I said, "and it's a very worthwhile use of my time."

"You will report to me carefully," said Holmes, "and when the danger comes--and it will come sooner or later--I will instruct you how to proceed. I suppose Saturday will be ready for departure?"

"Is Dr. Watson convenient?"

"convenient."

"Then, unless I tell you otherwise, we shall meet at the station on Saturday for the ten-thirty train from Paddington."

As we rose to take our leave, Baskerville gave a sudden shout of triumph, and dashing to the corner of the room, dragged a tall brown leather shoe from under a cupboard.

"It's my lost shoe," cried the baronet.

"May all our difficulties vanish like this one!" said Sherlock Holmes.

"But it is a curious thing," said Dr. Mortimer. "I searched the room carefully before lunch."

"I've searched too!" said Baskerville. "I've searched everywhere."

"At that time, there must have been no high-top shoes in the house."

"Then the waiter must have put it there while we were at lunch."

The German waiter was called, but he said he knew nothing of the matter, and could not find out, no matter how hard he asked.Mysterious incidents with unknown purposes occurred one after another, and now there is one more.In addition to the whole gruesome story of Sir Childs' violent death, a series of unexplained and strange events unexpectedly happened in the course of two days, including the receipt of letters made of typefaces, and black hair in the carriage. The bearded stalker, the loss of the new brown shoes and the disappearance of the old black shoes, and the new brown shoes now being returned.As we drove back to Baker Street, Holmes sat in silence, and I could see by his furrowed brows and stern face that his mind, like mine, was trying to make various conjectures to explain it. All these strange and apparently unconnected episodes.All afternoon and late into the night he sat immobile, lost in tobacco and deep thought.

Two telegrams arrived just before supper, the first of which read: "It is understood that Barrymore is indeed at the estate. Baskerville."

The second read: "Twenty-three hotels were visited as instructed, but the torn Times was not found. My apologies. Cartley."

"My two leads are exhausted, Watson. There is nothing so disturbing as a case when things go wrong. We must turn around and find another lead."

"We can still find the coachman who drives the stalker."

"Indeed. I have telegraphed to the Licensing Section to find out his name and address—I should not be surprised if this is the answer to my telegram."

As it turns out, the doorbell's results are more satisfying than the answers we'd hoped for.As soon as the door opened came in a rude fellow who was obviously exactly what we were looking for.

"I received a notification from the General Administration that there is a gentleman here looking for the driver of No. 2704 carriage!" He said, "I have been driving a carriage for seven years, and I have never heard a word of dissatisfaction from a passenger; When I come here, I want to ask face to face what dissatisfaction you have with me."

"I have nothing against you, brother," said Holmes. "On the contrary, if you will answer my question clearly, I will give you a half-pound."

The coachman grinned and said, "Oh, I'm really lucky today. Sir, what do you want to ask me?"

"First of all, I want to ask for your name and address, so that I can go to you again when I need it."

"John Clayton, at 3 Turpy Street. My car is hired from Hipbury Yard near Waterloo Station."

Sherlock Holmes wrote these down.

"Now, Clayton, please tell me about the passenger who came to watch the house this morning, and then followed the two gentlemen in Regent Street."

(End of this chapter)