The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 159 The Last Greeting (2)
"Very simple, sir," replied Inspector Baynes, "the only clue to be found in the dead man's pocket is your letter to him. It says that you spent the night at his house, and that he died that night. That is. We have the name and address of the deceased from the envelope of this letter. When we arrived at his house after nine o'clock this morning, neither you nor anyone else was there. I telegraphed Mr. Grayson to find him in London. You, while investigating Westeria House. Later I went into town and came here with Mr. Grayson."

"Now," said Mr. Grayson, rising, "I think business is best. Mr. Scott Eccles, come with me to the Bureau and write your statement. "

"Of course I can. I'll go right away. But, Mr. Holmes, I still hire you to help. I hope you will try your best to find out the truth of the matter at any cost."

My friend turned to look at the town detective.

"I suppose you have no objection to my cooperation, Mr. Baynes?"

"Of course not, sir, I am extremely honored."

"From the way you do things, you do things neatly and methodically. I can ask, when is the exact time of the deceased's death? Is there any clue?"

"He's been there since one o'clock in the morning. It was raining and he must have died before it rained."

"But it's impossible, Mr. Baynes," cried our client, "I could never have misheard his voice. I'll swear he was talking to me in my bedroom at that very hour."

"Strange, but not impossible," said Holmes, smiling.

"Have you got a clue?" Grayson asked.

"On the face of it, the case is not very complicated, although it has some novel and interesting features. Before I venture to express my final conclusions, I must learn a little more. Oh, by the way, Mr. Baynes, you are examining Did you find any other strange things besides this note when you were at the house?"

The detective looked at my friend strangely.

"Yes," he said, "and one or two very odd things. Maybe you can say something about those things after I'm done with the police."

"At your disposal," said Holmes, ringing the bell. "Mrs. Hudson, send these gentlemen away, and by the way, please send this telegram. Ask him to pay five shillings in return. Electricity bill."

After the guests had left, we sat for a while in silence.Holmes was smoking furiously, his piercing eyes were frowning, and his head was thrust forward in the air of absorption that was characteristic of him.

"Well, Watson," he asked me, turning suddenly, "what do you think of the matter?"

"I still can't make sense of Mr. Scott Eccles' shaming."

"What about the crime?"

"Well, judging from the fact that that person's companions have disappeared without a trace, it should be said that they must have something to do with this murder case and fled to avoid legal sanctions."

"That view is possible. You have to admit, however, that it is strange why two of his servants should attack him on a night when he had company, given the apparent partnership in his murder. That week, Except for that day, for the rest of the days, he was alone, and they could do what they wanted to do with him."

"And why did they escape?"

"Yes, why did they escape? There must be a great deal to it. The other important circumstance is that of our client, Scott Eccles. Now, my dear Watson, it is time to explain the two Wouldn't that be simply beyond the reach of the human intellect? If an explanation could be devised that would also account for the strange and mysterious note, it would be worthwhile as a provisional hypothesis. If The new facts we have learned are completely consistent with this conspiracy, so our hypothesis can gradually become the answer."

"But what is our hypothesis?"

Holmes leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes.

"You must admit, my dear Watson, that this could not have been a practical joke. As the ending shows, the matter was serious. The coaxing of Scott Eccles to Westeria House had something to do with it."

"What connection?"

"Let's go through it piece by piece. On the face of it, the strange and sudden friendship between this young Spaniard and Scott Eccles is somewhat irrational. It is the Spanish People. On the very day he first met Eccles, he rushed to the other end of London to visit Eccles, and kept in close contact with him, and finally invited him to Usher. Then, he What is Eccles for? What can Eccles offer him? I don't see much charm in this guy. He's not particularly bright, and it's not likely that he would be kindred spirits with a witty Latino. People. So, why did Garcia choose him among the people he knew? What is it that suits his needs? Does he have any outstanding temperament? I say he has. He is just a traditional decent Englishman, Just a witness to impress another Briton. You have seen for yourself that, despite the strangeness of his account, it never occurred to either of the sheriffs to question his confession."

"But what do you want him to witness?"

"Since things have become like this, he can't witness anything, but if it is another situation, he can witness everything. This is my view on this matter."

"I get it so he can prove his alibi."

"Yes, my dear Watson, he may have been seeking proof of his alibi. For the purpose of further discussion, let us suppose that the family at Westeria House conspired to conspire of some kind. Whether their intention is What, we may assume they wanted to leave before one o'clock in the morning. They fiddled with the clock. It is likely that they sent Eccles to bed earlier than Eccles thought. At any rate, it may be that it was not past twelve when Garcia went to tell Eccles that it was one o'clock. If Garcia could have done what he wanted to do within the time mentioned and returned to his own room, then he will obviously be able to make a strong defense to any charge. Our blameless Englishman can swear in any court that the defendant has been in the house. This is the worst case a guarantee."

"Yes, yes, I understand. But how do you explain the disappearance of the other people?"

"I haven't grasped the whole situation yet, but I don't think there are any difficulties that cannot be overcome. However, it is wrong to make a conclusion based on the materials in front of me. It can only be fiddling with the materials and justifying itself."

"What about the note?"

"What does it say on the note? 'Our own colours, green and white.' Sounds a lot like racehorses. 'Green on, white off.' That's obviously a signal." Main stairs, first corridor, seventh right, Green.' This is the appointed place. We might run into a jealous husband at the end of this one. Clearly a dangerous quest, otherwise she wouldn't have said 'good luck'.'D' --this should be the getting started guide."

"The man was Spanish. I presume the 'D' stands for Dolores, which is a very common woman's name in Spain."

"Well, Watson, very well, but the reasoning is very difficult. Spaniards write letters to Spaniards, and they can use Spanish. The person who wrote this letter must be English. Well, we can only wait patiently, and wait for that." The great Sheriff returns to us. But we can congratulate ourselves on our good fortune, which has spared us these few hours of intolerable idleness and ennui."

Holmes was called back before our Surrey Constable returned.Holmes read the reply, and was about to put it into his notebook when he caught a glimpse of my expectant face.He smiled and handed me the call back.

"We're in aristocratic circles," he said.

The telegram listed a number of names and addresses:

Sir Harringby, of Dingle; Sir George Flyot, of Oxshott Tower; Mr. Haynes Haynes, Magistrate, of Paddy Place; and Mr. James Buck Williams, Forton Hull; Mr. Henderson, High Gables; the Reverend Joshua Stone, Nate Walslin.

"This obviously narrows our field of action," said Holmes. "There can be no doubt that the shrewd Baynes has resorted to some similar scheme."

"I do not quite understand."

"Oh, my dear fellow, we have come to the conclusion that what García received at dinner was a letter from a date or a tryst. Now, if this conjecture is correct, in order to keep the date, he will have to climb the main Stairs, go up the walkway and look for the seventh door. We all know that the house is big. It is also certain that the house is not more than a mile or two from Oxshott, because Garcia is going in that direction Yes. And, from my conjectures of the circumstances, Garcia had intended to be back at the Westeria House before one o'clock in the morning to show that he was not there. Since the number of large houses near Oxshott is limited Well, I took the easy way out and telegraphed a few of the managers Scott Eccles mentioned. Their names are on this call back. They must be on the other side of our mess. .”

It was nearly six o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived at the pretty Surrey village of Usher, accompanied by Sheriff Baynes.

Holmes and I dined at Bull, and found comfortable accommodation.At last we went to Westeria Lodge, accompanied by the officer.It was a cold, dark March night, with a drizzle of wind and rain, and it was a fitting scene as we walked across the desolate clearing towards the scene of tragedy. background.

Two Tigers of San Pedro
After a few miles of cold and dreary walking, we came to a tall wooden door.Inside the door was a dark chestnut-lined avenue.The winding and gloomy road led us to a small, pitch-black house, which looked very dark and black against the blue-grey night sky.There was a faint light in the window to the left of the door.

"There's a policeman on duty," Baynes said. "I'll knock on the window." He walked across the lawn and tapped on the window.There was a scream, and through the dim glass I vaguely saw a man springing up from a chair by the fire.After a while, a pale and panting policeman opened the door. He held a candle in his hand, and because his hand was shaking, the candle kept shaking.

"What's the matter, Walters?" Baynes asked sharply.

The man wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and heaved a long sigh of relief, which was relieved.

"I'm glad you're here, sir. It's been a long night, and I don't think my nerves can bear it any longer."

"Your nerves, Walters? It never occurred to me that you had nerves in you."

"Oh, sir, I mean this lonely house, and that strange thing in the kitchen. I thought it was there again when you knocked on the window."

"What's coming again?"

"The ghost, sir, is at the window as far as I know."

"What's in the window? When?"

"About two hours ago, just after dark, I was sitting in a chair reading a paper. I somehow looked up and saw a face staring at me from outside the lower window frame. My God, sir, what a look that was." A face! I can't get rid of that face in my dreams."

"Tut, tsk, Walters, that's not like a police officer's words!"

"I know, sir, I know, but it frightens me, sir, and it won't help if I don't admit it. The face is neither black nor white, it can't say what color it is, a very strange color, like dirt Stirred the milk. As for the face, it was as big as two of yours, sir. And the look, with the big protruding eyes and the white teeth, was like a hungry wolf. You and I Said, sir, I dared not move a finger or breath till it suddenly disappeared. I ran out to look, and I walked through the bushes, and thank God there was nothing there."

"If I hadn't known you were a good man, Walters, I could have put a black point on you just for that. If it really was a ghost, then an officer on duty should never have dared to use it for him." Touch it with your hand and thank God. I think it must be your hallucination."

"That, at least, is easily explained," said Holmes, lighting his little lamp. "Yes," he said, after a quick inspection of the grass, "he's wearing No. 12s, I think. Judging by the size of his feet, he must be a big man."

"What's up with him?"

"He seemed to be running through the bushes toward the road."

"Well," said the Inspector, with a serious and pensive face, "whoever he is, and whatever he may wish to do, he is gone now, and we have more urgent matters to attend to. Mr. Holmes, if With your permission, I will show you the house."

After searching every bedroom and living room, we found nothing.Apparently, the lodger had brought very little.From furniture to small objects, they are all rented.Many of the clothes that remain bear the logo of Marx & Co. in High Holborn.It was clear from telegraphic inquiries that Marx & Co. knew nothing other than that his customers paid their bills readily.His personal effects were odds and ends, a few pipes, novels, two of which were in Spanish, an old revolver, and a guitar.

"There's nothing in here," Baynes said, holding a candle in his hand, and strode out of this room into another room. "Mr. Holmes, I now ask your attention to the kitchen."

The kitchen is dark, with a high ceiling, at the back of the house.In the corner of the kitchen stood a straw bunk, apparently the cook's bunk.The table was littered with leftover plates and dirty cutlery, leftovers from yesterday's dinner.

"Look here," Baynes said, "what do you see here?"

He held up the candle to a strange object behind a cupboard.The thing was crumpled and shriveled, and there was no telling what it was.It can only be said that it is black, made of leather, and its shape is a bit like a short person. There are two strings of white shells hanging from the middle of its body.When I examined it, I first thought it was a desiccated black baby, and then it looked like a distorted ancient monkey.I'm also not sure if it's a human or an animal.

"Very interesting, indeed!" said Holmes, gazing at the wicked relic. "What else?"

Baynes said nothing, and led us to the sink.He shone the candle forward, and saw some great white bird, with its wings and body torn apart, and its feathers still on it, filling a basin.Holmes pointed to the dewlap on the severed head of the bird.

"A white cock," said he, "is very interesting! It is a very curious case."

However, Mr Baynes insisted on showing his most inauspicious.He pulled an aluminum bucket from under the sink, full of blood.He took another plate from the table, on which were blackened bones.

"Killed something and burned it. These are the things we collected from the fire. I had a doctor come over this morning to examine these things, and the doctor's test result is that they are not human. thing."

Holmes rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"Congratulations, Sergeant, on such a remarkable and instructive case. I must venture to say that your talents far outstrip your opportunities."

There was a look of pleasure in Sheriff Baynes' eyes.

"Mr. Holmes is right. Our work is moving too slowly, and cases like this present opportunities which I hope I can make the most of. What do you think of these bones?"

"I think it's a lamb, or a kid."

"What about the white rooster?"

"It's very strange, Mr. Baynes, really very strange. It can even be said that I have never seen it before."

"Yes, sir. The people who live in this house are very strange, and his behavior must be very strange. And one of them is dead. Could it be that his accomplices followed him and beat him to death? If this Assuming it was true, we would have caught them long ago, for all the ports are under watch. But I see it differently, yes, sir, quite differently from that."

"So, do you have your own way?"

"I will solve the case myself, Mr. Holmes. For the sake of my own reputation, I can only do so. You are famous, and I will be famous. If in the end I can solve the case independently, and not rely on your help, then I'm so happy!"

Holmes laughed heartily.

"Well, well, Sheriff," he said, "then we'll go our separate ways. My results are readily available to you if you like. I've seen all the house I wanted to see, and perhaps I should Focus on other things. Goodbye and good luck!"

There were many subtle expressions of Holmes which would have indicated that he was anxiously following a lead, and which no one but me would have noticed.To ordinary eyes Holmes appeared calm, as usual, but his luminous eyes and brisk manner betrayed a subdued enthusiasm and nervousness, and I was sure he was considering his next move. Countermeasures.He still has the old habit of not saying a word, and I still have my temper, not asking anything.It was enough for me to join him in the game, to offer my small help in catching the criminal without distracting him with unnecessary interruptions.

(End of this chapter)