The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 158 The Last Greeting (1)
Friends of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you may take comfort in the fact that Holmes is still alive, though somewhat lame from rheumatism.For many years he lived on a farm in the hills and prairie, five miles from Eastbourne, and devoted himself to the study of philosophy and agronomy.During that time, he turned down many lucrative cases and decided to retire.But because of the German invasion, for the sake of the country, he began to combine wisdom and practice, and achieved these historical achievements recorded in "The Last Salute".Previous records, which had long been in my briefcase, have also been included in Last Regards so that they may be collected and edited for publication.

medical doctor
John H. Watson
warning readers

Westeria Residence
The Strange Experience of Mr. John Scott Eccles

It was a cold and windy day at the end of March, [-], from my notebooks.We were sitting at lunch when Holmes received a telegram, which he answered immediately.Afterwards he said nothing, and looked preoccupied, for afterwards he stood before the fire with a pensive look on his face, smoking his pipe, and reading now and then the telegram.Suddenly, he turned around and looked at me with a mysterious look in his eyes.

"If you were a man of letters, Watson," he said, "how would you interpret the word 'grotesque'?"

"Strange...abnormal." I replied.

He shook his head, not very satisfied with my explanation.

"There's definitely more to it," he said, "essentially tragic and horrific. If you think back to your articles that have long tormented the public, you realize the deeper meaning of the word 'grotesque'." Often the meaning is crime. Consider the case of the 'Redheads', which started out rather grotesquely and ended in a desperate robbery attempt. Or the case of 'Five Orange Pieces', which was also grotesque and ended in A murder case is drawn directly. Therefore, the word 'grotesque' always makes me vigilant."

"Is that word in the telegram?" I asked.

He then read the contents of the telegram aloud.

Encountered the most grotesque and unbelievable things.Can I ask you for advice?
Scott Eccles
Charing Cross Post Office
"Is it a man or a woman?" I asked.

"Of course it's a man. Women don't send such telegrams to pay back the electricity bill first. If it's a woman, you can come by yourself."

"Do you want to see him?"

"My dear Watson, you know how disturbed I have been since we imprisoned Colonel Carruces. My brain is like a running engine, broken to pieces, not connected to the work it was intended to make. Life is dull, newspapers are boring, and daring and romance seem to have been extinct forever in this criminal world. So you can ask me if I am prepared to study any new problem, however trivial it turns out. But now, if I If there is no miscalculation, our client has already arrived."

There were rhythmic footsteps on the stairs.After a while a tall, strong man with a gray beard and a dignified countenance was brought in.His solemn face and haughty attitude all reflect his parentage.From his shoe spats to his gold-rimmed spectacles, he was a Conservative, a clergyman, a good citizen, orthodox and old-fashioned through and through.But some sudden and startling event disturbed his original composure, and it left its mark on his bristling hair, his flushed, sullen face, and his flustered and excited air.He immediately cut to the chase with his affairs.

"A very peculiar and unpleasant incident has befell me, Mr. Holmes," said he. "I have never seen anything like it in my life. It is an outrage and intolerable. I insist that it be done." Some reasonable explanation," he said angrily.

"Sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles," said Holmes in a soothing tone. "First of all, may I ask a question, why on earth have you come to me?"

"Well, sir, it doesn't seem to me that this has anything to do with the police, and, if you've heard it all, you'll agree with me that I can't just ignore it. I've always Not interested, but I found you anyway because I have long admired your name."

"Oh, yes. But why don't you come right away?"

"What does it mean?"

Holmes glanced at his watch.

"It's a quarter past two," he said, "and your telegram was sent about one. However, you can see that you were in trouble as soon as you woke up, otherwise you would never have looked like this." Dressed up."

Our client straightened his tangled hair and stroked his unshaven chin.

"You're right, Mr. Holmes. It never occurred to me to wash. I wish I could fly away from the house. Before I came here, I made inquiries. I went to the estate agent. They said Mr. Garcia, you know. The rent has been paid, and all is well at Westeria Flats."

"Ah, ah, sir," said Holmes, laughing, "you are very like my friend Dr. Watson, who has a bad habit of not explaining things clearly when he opens his mouth. Please sort out your thoughts in an orderly manner. Tell me reasonably what has happened that you ran out to seek help without combing your hair or shaving your beard or buttoning your boots and waistcoat."

Our client looked down, looking down at his unusual appearance.

"It must be very impolite of me to look like this, Mr. Holmes. But I am really anxious to get to the bottom of the matter. It has never happened to me in my life. Let me tell you the whole story of this strange incident." .After you listen to it, you will definitely understand me and feel that I can be forgiven for doing this."

However, he was interrupted as soon as he began to tell us his story.There was an uproar outside, and Mrs. Hudson opened the door and ushered in two sturdy, official-looking figures.One of these was Sergeant Grayson, who we all know as Scotland Yard, a man of great energy and bearing, and an expert in his circle of business.He shook hands with Holmes, and introduced his colleague, Inspector Baynes of Surrey Police.

"Mr. Holmes, we have been following Mr. Eccles, and we have come here." His piercing eyes turned to our guest. Is that you, Mr. Ernes?"

"Yes."

"We followed you all morning today."

"One thing is certain, you have followed him here by the wire," said Holmes.

"Exactly, Mr. Holmes. We found the clue at the Charing Cross Post Office, and we followed it all the way here."

"Why follow me? What do you want to do?"

"We would like a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles, and we would like some information in connection with yesterday's death of Mr. Aloysus Garcia of Westeria Residence near Usher."

Our client's eyes widened in surprise, and there was no blood on his panicked face.

"What? You mean he's dead?"

"Yes, sir, he is dead."

"How did he die? Was there an accident?"

"Murder, if ever there was murder in the world."

"My God! How terrible! Don't you...don't you suspect me?"

"A letter of yours was found in the deceased's pocket, and from its contents we know that you intended to spend the night at his house last night."

"Yes."

"Oh, you spent the night at his house last night, didn't you?"

As they asked, they took out their official notebooks.

"Wait, Grayson," said Sherlock Holmes, "you want a clear statement, don't you?"

"It is my duty to remind Mr. Scott Eccles that this statement can be used against him."

"Mr. Eccles was about to tell us about it when you came in. I don't think a glass of soda brandy would do him any harm, Watson. There are now two more listeners here, sir, and I suggest you Don't mind, just keep talking like no one interrupted you, like you said at the beginning."

Our guest gulped down the brandy, and some color came to his face.He glanced distrustfully at the sheriff's notebook, and then began his extraordinary narrative.

"I'm a bachelor," he said, "and I've made a lot of friends because of my gregariousness. Among them was a defunct brewer named Melville, who lived at Abermale House in Kensington. A few weeks ago, I I met a young man named Garcia when I was having dinner at his house. I know he is Spanish and has some relationship with the embassy. He can speak fluent English and is very likable. He is the most handsome I have ever seen man.

"I got on very well with this young man, and he seemed to take a liking to me from the first. In the two days after we met he came to visit me in the Lane Street. His home was between Usher and Oxshott Westeria House, after a few visits, he invited me to stay at his house for a few days. I went to his house last night at his invitation.

"Before going to his house, he had told me about his house. He had a faithful servant, also a Spaniard, who lived with him and took care of everything for him. This man spoke English and was his Housekeeper. He said he also had a very good cook who cooked great food and was of mixed race and he met him on the trip. I remember him saying how it was to find such a place to live in the heart of Surrey Strange. Although I agreed with him at the time, the facts have proved that it is infinitely stranger than I thought.

"I drove to his apartment, about two miles south of Usher. It was a big house, set back from the road, with a winding driveway lined with tall evergreen shrubs. The house was old and Dilapidated and old. When the carriage stopped on the overgrown road and came to the mottled, dirty and weather-beaten gate, I hesitated, thinking about visiting such a place I don't know much about. wise man. He opened the door for me himself, and gave me a very cordial welcome. Then he handed me over to a sad, dark-faced valet, who carried my purse for me, and led me to the The whole room was gloomy. Later, we sat face to face at dinner. Although my host entertained me well, he seemed to be absent-minded, incoherent and incomprehensible. He kept fingering Tapping on the table, biting his nails, and other small gestures showed that he was restless. As for the meal, it was neither well attended nor cooked, and the silence of the servant The gloomy expression really makes people feel uncomfortable. To be honest, that night, I really wanted to find a reason to go back to the inner street.

"One detail, which I recall, may have something to do with the case which you two gentlemen are investigating. At the time, I paid no attention to it. A note was brought by the servant when we were about to finish supper. I see Now, after reading the note, my master seemed to be more restless and strange than before. He no longer pretended to chat with me, but sat there smoking and thinking about something. As for He didn't say what was written on the note. Fortunately, I went to bed around eleven o'clock in the evening. After a while, Garcia looked at me from the door. The room was dark at the time. After the bell, I said no. He apologized for disturbing me so late, and said that it was almost one o'clock. Afterwards, I fell asleep and slept until morning.

"Now I come to the strangest part of the story. When I awoke, it was broad daylight, and I looked at my watch. It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning. I had specifically ordered them to The bell woke me up, and I wondered how they had forgotten. I jumped up and rang the bell to call the servants, but no one answered. I rang the bell again, but no one answered. I guessed that the bell must have come out. Fault. I was very angry, put on my clothes indiscriminately, and rushed downstairs to ask someone to bring hot water. But when I saw that there was no one downstairs, you can imagine how surprised I was. I yelled in the hall , nobody answered me, and I ran from room to room, and there was no one. My master had shown me his bedroom the night before, so I knocked on his door, but there was no Answer. I opened the door and walked in. It was empty, and there was no sign of anyone sleeping on the bed. He and everyone else disappeared. Foreign guests, foreign servants, and foreign cooks disappeared overnight! I went to Wei Thus ended this visit to the Stryan's apartment."

Sherlock Holmes laughed and rubbed his hands, and recorded the strange incident in his handbook of anecdotes.

"It's the first time I've heard of such a thing," said he. "I may ask, sir, what did you do next?"

"I was furious. At first I thought I was in for some ridiculous mischief. I packed my things, slammed the door, and went to Usher with my purse. I went to the biggest Allen Brothers, a real estate agent in the United States, learned that the villa was rented out by this firm. I thought about the whole incident back and forth, and it suddenly occurred to me that this incident could not be to fool me. The main purpose must be It was to evade rent. Now it is the end of March, and the quarterly billing deadline is approaching. However, this is also unreasonable. The manager thanked me for reminding me, but he told me that the rent has been paid in advance. Later, I went to the city to The Spanish embassy inquired, and the embassy said they did not know this person. Later, I went to Melville, and it was at his home that I met Garcia for the first time. But I found that he knew more about Garcia than I did. .Finally, I got your call back and came to you. Because I heard that you are a good problem solver. But now, Mr. Sheriff, from what you said when you entered the room, I know What other tragedies were involved in this incident. It is for you to go on. I can assure you that every word I have said is true, and that there is nothing about this man other than what I have already told you. Death, of which I know absolutely nothing. My only wish is to serve the law as best I can."

"I believe it, Mr. Scott Eccles, I believe it," said Inspector Grayson in a friendly tone. "It should be said that what you say is completely consistent with the facts we have investigated. Did you notice what happened to the note when I sent it around?"

"Well, I noticed that Garcia crumpled it up and threw it on the fire."

"Have you anything to add to this, Mr. Baynes?"

The officer was a stocky, fat, red-skinned man.Fortunately, he has two piercing eyes to make up for the lack of his big face.He smiled slightly, and took a discolored, creased piece of paper from his pocket.

"Mr. Holmes, there is a grate outside the stove. He threw the note over the grate. I found this unburnt wad of paper from behind the stove."

Holmes smiled appreciatively.

"You must have inspected the house very carefully to find such a little ball of paper."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. That is my style. May I read it, Mr. Grayson?"

The Cockney nodded.

"The note was written on plain beige ruled paper without a watermark. It was a quarter of a page, cut open in two strokes with short-bladed scissors, folded in half three times, sealed with purple wax, and sealed with some An oval object was hastily stamped over wax. The note, addressed to Mr. Garcia of Westeria House, read as follows:
Our own colours, green and white.Green on, white off.Main staircase, first corridor, seventh on the right, green.Good luck.

D.
"It's a woman's handwriting, with a fine point. But the address is written in a different pen, or someone else's, in a much bolder hand. You see."

"A very curious note," said Holmes, with a quick glance. "I admire you, Mr. Baynes, very much for your earnestness, and attention to these details. Perhaps one more detail could be added, the oval seal." , no doubt a flat cuff-link—what else is that shape? There are also creases where there are cuts."

The officer chuckled.

"I thought I'd seen every detail, and now I know I'm missing something," he said. "I should say, I didn't pay much attention to this note, I just knew they were going to do something. What a trick, and this matter should involve a woman."

While this conversation was going on, Mr. Scott Eccles sat restless.

"I'm glad you found such a note, because it confirms what I said," he said, "but, excuse me for interrupting, what happened to Mr. Garcia, what happened to his family , I don’t know yet.”

"About Garcia," said Grayson, "is an easy answer. His body was found this morning in a field in Oxshott, about a mile from his home. His head had been beaten to a pulp, with sandbags or Hit something like that, pretty hard, not wounded, but bloomed. The place was out of the way, no one was around for a quarter of a mile. Someone apparently knocked him down from behind. The assailant The beating continued for a long time after beating him to death. It was a brutal murder. The perpetrator did not leave any footprints or clues."

"Have been robbed?"

"No, there is no sign of robbery."

"It is very tragic, tragic and dreadful," said Mr. Scott Eccles indignantly, "but it is very unfair to me. My master went out at night and met such a tragic end. This has nothing to do with me, how could I be involved in this case?"

(End of this chapter)