The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 141 Uncanny Valley (3)
The building of the manor is piled up of triangular stones, inlaid with jewel-shaped lattice windows, and still retains its original appearance in the seventeenth century.The original two moats used to protect its martial ancestors, the outer rivers have long since dried up, are now used as vegetable gardens.The inland river that circled the estate still existed, and though it was only a few feet deep now, it was still forty feet wide.The river gurgles here and meanders endlessly, so although the water is turbid, it is not as unhygienic as stagnant water in ditches.The windows on the ground floor of the manor building are only a foot or so above the water.

The only way to the manor is a suspension bridge.The chains and winches of the drawbridge were rusted and broken.However, the new owner of the estate was energetic and restored the drawbridge.Not only can it be hoisted, but in fact it is hoisted every night and lowered in the morning to restore it to its old feudal appearance, and every time night falls, the place becomes an island-a fact that is consistent with It is directly related to the case that is about to cause a sensation throughout the UK.

The estate, which had been unoccupied for many years before Douglas bought it, threatened to collapse into a dramatic pile of ruins at any moment.There were only two people in this family: John Douglas and his wife.No matter in terms of character or character, Douglas is unusual.He was about fifty years old, with a broad jaw, a rough face, a gray beard, and a pair of sharp gray eyes.He was always upbeat and amiable.But it seemed from his informal demeanor that he had experienced a life far below the social class in Sussex.

However, despite the curious and wary eyes of his educated neighbors, his generous donations to local welfare causes, his active participation in their fireworks and other grand gatherings, and his rich and mellow voice , was very popular with everyone, and was often invited to present a beautiful song, so Douglas soon became very popular among the villagers.He looked wealthy and was said to be in the gold mining business in California.In conversations with himself and his wife, it was learned that Douglas had lived in the United States for some time.

Douglas made a good impression as a man of generosity and affability, and his reputation was enhanced by his fearlessness and delicacy in the face of danger.Although he was not a very good rider, he was invited to participate in every hunt. Not only did he persevere to the end with his determination, but he did not flinch from a strong opponent.Once the vicarage caught fire and the local fire brigade had declared it impossible to extinguish it, he gained a reputation for fearlessly rushing into flames to salvage property.So, although John Douglas had not been here five years, he was already a man of distinction.

Although according to the English custom, people seldom visit a foreigner who has immigrated to this country without introduction, but his wife is also loved by acquaintances.Although she doesn't like socializing and is lonely by nature, she just takes care of her husband and does housework.She was rumored to be an Englishwoman who had met Mr. Douglas in London, when he was a widower.She was a beautiful woman, tall, dark and slender, 20 years younger than her husband.The age gap doesn't seem to affect their happy family life.

However, according to those in the know, their mutual trust was not entirely defenseless, for Mrs. Douglas did not know much about her husband's past life rather than her reluctance to speak of her husband's past life.A few observant persons have noticed and remarked that Mrs. Douglas sometimes appeared to be excessively anxious, and that whenever her husband came home late she displayed extreme restlessness.The quiet countryside is prone to gossip, and of course the weakness of the hostess of the manor inevitably becomes a topic of discussion.After the incident, this incident was endowed with special significance in people's various speculations, which made it extremely important.

But there was another person, to be honest, he only lived in the manor occasionally, but because he was also present when this strange case happened, his name was particularly eye-catching in the eyes of the public.His name was Cecil Barker, of Hails Rocky, Hampsteadshire.

Cecil Barker was a tall and agile man, well known in the high streets of Birlstone, for he was a frequent visitor to the estate, and was quite popular with its master.Most of the attention paid to Cecil Barker is that he was an old friend of Mr. Douglas in London and the only person who knew anything about Douglas' little-known past life.Barker was doubtless an Englishman, but it is obvious that he and Douglas had first met in America, and became close, by his own account.It appeared that Buck was a rich man, and a notorious bachelor at that.

In terms of age, he is much younger than Douglas, at most 45 years old.He was tall and round, like a professional boxer.Under the thick black and bushy eyebrows are a pair of black eyes that look like torches. Even without relying on his powerful hands, he can break through the encirclement of many opponents.He doesn't like horseback riding, nor is he keen on hunting. He always walks around this ancient rural town with a pipe in his mouth.Otherwise, he would go for a drive with his master, or drive with his mistress when the master was away, and enjoy the beautiful country scenery together.

"He's a generous, easy-going gentleman," said the butler, Ames, "but, my God, I dare not offend him!" Buck had a close relationship with Douglas, and an extraordinary relationship with Mrs. Douglas— - This friendship seemed to annoy her husband on more than one occasion, even to the servants in her house.This was the third figure in the family when the disaster happened.

There were other people living in the old house, but it will suffice to mention Ames and Mrs Allen--Ames, the housekeeper, was a respectable, meticulous and capable person; Strong, cheerful and optimistic, he shared a lot of housework for the hostess.The remaining six servants had nothing to do with the events of the night of January [-]th.

At 45:[-] that night, the local police station received the first report.The police station is headed by Constable Wilson from the Sussex Security Force.At that time, an emotional Cecil Barker rushed to the gate of the police station and rang the alarm bell desperately. "There was a tragedy in the manor, and John Douglas was killed." Out of breath, he reported the case, and hurried back to the manor.Inspector Wilson arrived at the estate a few minutes later, just after twelve o'clock.Earlier, he had urgently reported the major case that occurred that night to Sussex County authorities.

When Police Officer Wilson arrived at the manor, he found that the drawbridge had been lowered, the room was brightly lit, the manor was in chaos, and everyone present panicked.In the hall, the pale servants stood close to each other, and the terrified butler stood in the aisle, constantly rubbing his hands. Only Cecil Barker seemed relatively calm.He opened the door at the end of the corridor and motioned for the officer to come in.Dr. Wood also arrived at this time, an active and competent practitioner.The three entered the unfortunate room together, followed by the panic-stricken butler, who shut the door behind him to prevent the maids from witnessing the shocking scene.

The deceased was lying flat on his back in the center of the room, with his limbs spread out, wearing a pink dressing gown with a pajamas underneath, and a pair of felt slippers on his bare feet.The doctor knelt down beside him, held an oil lamp on the table in his hand, and after only one glance, he knew that it was beyond cure.The victim was badly wounded, and across his chest was an oddly shaped weapon: a musket, the barrel sawn off a foot before the trigger.The two triggers are tied together with wire and fired at the same time, which can cause greater lethality.And apparently the range was very short, and all the gunpowder was sprayed on the face of the deceased, and the head was almost blown to pieces.

There was nothing the village police officer could do. He was too bewildered to bear the weight of responsibility that had suddenly fallen upon him. "Don't move anything, wait for someone from above to come." He stared at the terrifying head in horror, and whispered.

"We haven't touched anything so far," said Cecil Barker. "I assure you, everything here is exactly as I found it."

"What time was the tragedy?" The police officer said as he took out his notebook from his pocket.

"It was just after 11:30 and I was still in my coat. I was warming up by the fireplace in my bedroom when I heard the gunshots. It wasn't loud - muffled by something. I ran downstairs to It's only half a minute in a room."

"Was the door open?"

"It was on. Poor Douglas lay there as he is now. There was a lamp on the table in his bedroom, and it was a few minutes before I lit it."

"You didn't see anyone else?"

"No. Then I heard Mrs. Douglas coming down the stairs, and I ran to stop her, lest she see the dreadful sight. Mrs. Allen came too, and she took Mrs. Ames away. Then we went back to that room again."

"But I'm sure I've heard that drawbridges are raised at night."

"Yes, the bridge was up until I put it down."

"Then how did the murderer get away? It's impossible! Mr. Douglas must have committed suicide."

"That's what we thought at first, but look!" Buck drew back the curtains, and a long glass window was fully open. "Look here again!" He lowered the lamp a bit, and illuminated a bloodstain on the wooden window sill, which looked like shoe prints left by boots. "Someone was standing here after the incident."

"You mean someone waded through the moat?"

"Exactly!"

"Then, if you were here within half a minute of hearing the gunfire, the criminal must still be in the moat."

"I have no doubt about it. My God, if only I had run to the window! But as you can see, the window was covered with curtains, so I didn't think of it. Then I heard Douglas Mrs.'s footsteps, I must prevent her from entering this room, or she will faint from fright."

"This is terrible!" said the doctor, looking at the shattered head and the blood around the body. "I haven't seen such injuries since the Birlstone train crash."

"But, I think," said the police officer from the country, his mind still stuck on the open window, "you are right to say that a man escaped by wading across the moat, but I have a question, since The drawbridge has been lifted, how did he slip in?"

"Ah, that's the problem," Buck said.

"When was the drawbridge erected?"

"Around six o'clock in the afternoon," said the butler Ames.

"I've heard," said the officer, "that the drawbridge is usually hoisted at sunset. So in this season the sunset should be around 04:30 p.m., not six o'clock."

"Mrs. Douglas invited guests to tea," Ames said. "I couldn't pull the drawbridge until the guests left. Later, I pulled the drawbridge myself."

"So," said the Inspector, "if anyone is going to sneak in from outside—if that's the case—they must come in by the drawbridge before six o'clock, and remain hidden somewhere until after eleven o'clock, Mr. Douglas. Go into the house."

"Exactly! Mr. Douglas walks round the estate every night, checking at last to see if the lights are out in the rooms. So he came to this room. The man was waiting for him here, so he shot him, dropped his musket, and Window escape. I think that's how it is, and that explains what we're actually seeing now."

The officer picked up a card from the floor next to the deceased, with two capital letters "VV" scrawled in pen on it, and the number "341" underneath.

"What's this?" the officer asked, holding up the card.

Buck looked at the card curiously, and said, "I've never seen this before, it must be left by the murderer."

"VV, 341. I have no idea what this refers to."

In the hands of the police officer, the cards were flipped back and forth. "What does VV stand for? Perhaps the initials of a name. Dr. Wood, have you found anything?"

On the rug in front of the fireplace was a large hammer, an iron tool used by craftsmen.

Cecil Barker pointed to the nail box on the mantelpiece, and said: "Mr. Douglas used it to hang his oil painting yesterday, and I saw him standing on a chair and hanging it on the wall. That's how the hammer came. of."

"Let's put the hammer back where it was," said the police officer, puzzled, scratching his hair with his hands. "I'm afraid only the most skilled detectives will be able to figure out the truth of this matter. Let's wait for the London detectives to come." Deal with it." He held up the lamp and walked slowly around the house.

"Look!" The police officer excitedly pulled the curtain aside. "When was the curtain drawn?"

"The lamps were just being lit at that time," replied the butler, "about four o'clock in the afternoon."

"Someone must have been hiding here," said the sergeant, lowering the light a little.In the corner, the mud prints left by the boots are clearly visible.

"I think you are right, Mr. Buck, and your theory is confirmed. It appears that the murderer slipped into the house before the drawbridge was raised, between four and six o'clock in the afternoon. He first It was this room that he saw, and because he could not find a place to hide, he hid behind the curtains. It became clear that the murderer was actually going to steal, but Mr. Douglas discovered it by accident, so he told He did it, and he ran away."

"I think so too," Buck said, "but why don't we seal off the town now before the murderer is far away, instead of wasting time here in vain."

The police officer thought for a while and said: "There is no train before six o'clock in the morning, so it is impossible for him to escape by train. If he walks on the road with wet trousers, he will look weird and attract people's attention. In any case, in other police affairs I can't leave here until the people get here. But I don't think you'd better leave until the facts of the case come to light."

Dr. Wood went to pick up the lamp, and began to examine the body carefully.

"What sign is that?" he asked. "Has it any connection with the case?"

The right arm of the corpse is exposed from under the dressing gown up to the elbow.Near the middle of the forearm, there is a strange brown mark: a triangle is set in a circle, and the traces of the lines are raised, which is very eye-catching against the gray-white skin.

"It's not an ordinary tattoo," Dr. Wood said, peering through his glasses at the mark. "I've never seen a mark like this. This man was branded once, branded like an animal, and it represented What?"

"I can't tell what the mark means, but I've seen it on his arm more than once in ten years," replied Cecil Barker.

"I've seen it too," said the steward, "every time my master rolls up his sleeves, I see that sign. I never understood what it meant."

"Well, it has nothing to do with the case," said the inspector, "but it's queer. Everything connected with the case is so queer. Now, what's there?"

Pointing to the arm, the butler exclaimed and gasped, "They took his wedding ring!"

"what?"

"That's right, it's really taken away! The pure gold wedding ring has been worn on the little finger of the owner's right hand. There is also a ring with a natural nugget on it, and a snake-shaped ring on the middle finger. Now you Look, the nugget ring and the serpentine ring are still there, but the wedding ring is gone."

"Exactly," said Buck.

"You mean that wedding ring has been worn under another ring?" the officer asked.

"Always."

"Then the murderer, or whoever it was, first took off this nugget ring you speak of, then took off the wedding ring, and put the nugget back on?"

"That's it."

The venerable country police officer shook his head and said: "In my opinion, this case is best left to the police in London, the sooner the better. White Mason is a quick-witted man, and local cases There's nothing he can't do, and he'll be on his way to help us soon. But I think we're all hoping someone from London will come in as soon as possible to get this sorted out. But anyway, I'm sorry for a tricky job like this The case is really powerless for a policeman like me."

four dark
At three o'clock in the morning the Sussex Inspector, following an urgent report from Constable Wilson of Birlstone, came overnight from headquarters in a one-horse buggy, the horse out of breath.He sent the report to Scotland Yard by train at [-]:[-] in the morning.At twelve noon he was at Birlstone Station to meet us.Mr. White Mason was a good-natured, suave man, in a baggy tweed coat, with a ruddy, clean-shaven face.He has a strong body, with two strong and powerful legs slightly bent inwards, and a pair of high-top boots with buckles on his feet, looking energetic.He looked small, like a farmer or a retired gamekeeper, whoever he was, but he just didn't look like a typical criminal officer in a local police department.

(End of this chapter)