The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 166 The Last Greeting (9)
"I was born in Posillipo, near Naples," she said, "I am the daughter of Chief Justice Augusto Barreri. My father was a member of the local council. Gennaro was my father's staff. And Like any woman, I fell in love with him. He had neither money nor status, he had nothing but good looks, strength and vitality. So my father forbade us to marry. We eloped together and got married in Bari , sold the jewelry and used the money to get us to America. That was four years ago. We've been in New York ever since.

"At first we had good luck. Gennaro helped an Italian gentleman who was besieged by outlaws at a place called the Bowery, and thus made a powerful friend. The gentleman His name is Tito Castalotti. He is one of the founders of the large Castalotti-Zamba Company. The company is a major importer of fruit in New York. Mr. Zamba is ill and our new The friend I met, Castalotti, is in charge of the company. The company employs more than 300 employees. He found a job for my husband in the company, appointed him as the head of a department, and took care of us everywhere. Castalo Mr Tee is a bachelor and I think he sees Gennaro as his son and my husband and I respect him like a father. We bought a small house in Brooklyn and our future looks secure At this time, dark clouds suddenly appeared and soon covered our sky.

"One evening Gennaro came home from work and brought with him a fellow countryman named Giorgiano, also from Posillipo. This man was a tall man, and you all saw his body. Not only was he tall, but he Everything about him was weird and frightening. His voice was like thunder in our little house. There wasn't room in the house wide enough for him to swing his giant arms when he spoke. His thoughts, his emotions were Intense and strange, he spoke in a very loud voice, almost roaring, and others could only sit and listen obediently to him talking endlessly. His eyes were piercing, with a frightening light, he saw You're at his mercy. He's a horrible monster. Thank God he's dead!
"He comes to our house again and again. But I know that Gennaro doesn't seem to welcome him as much as I do. My poor husband sits with a blank face, listening to our guests with no interest. Speechless. He talked about nothing more than endless gibberish on political and social issues. Gennaro didn't say anything to me, but I know, I know him. I can see His emotions. At first, I thought it was disgust. Later, I gradually understood that it was not only disgust, but also fear, a kind of fear that was hidden in the depths and was not easy to detect. That night, I was the one who saw what was in his heart. That night of fear, I hugged him and begged him to tell me why this big man could make him so mad. Because I knew he loved me and his feelings for me were genuine, He never hides anything from me.

"He told me everything. When I heard it, I couldn't help feeling cold. My poor Gennaro, nothing went well with him in those troubled days, and the unfair treatment drove him to the point of madness. It was around that time that he joined a group in Naples called the Red Circle, which was an organization with the old Carbonari. This organization has terrible oaths and secrets, once you join it, you can't try to get it out. When we fled to America , Gennaro thought he could get away from it and disown it. One night he bumped into a man in the street. That man was the big Giorgiano who had introduced him to the group in Naples. In southern Italy, People call him 'Death' because he is a murderer! To escape the police in Italy, he ran to New York. He established a branch of this terrorist organization in his new residence. Gennaro put it all He told me everything, and that day I read a notice he received. There was a red circle drawn at the top of the notice. The notice told him that he would have a rally on a certain day, and he had to attend the meeting when he received the notice.

"It was terrible. But the worst was yet to come. I noticed that there were times when Giorgiano came to our house in the evenings and always looked for a chance to talk to me. Although most of the time he was talking to my husband. Talking, but his demonic eyes were always on me. One night, he finally showed his true colors. I finally understood his so-called love, but the behavior of animals. When he came, Genna Luo hadn't come home yet. He walked into the house, grabbed me with his thick hands, hugged him into his bear-like arms, kissed me rudely, and told me to go with him. I struggled and shouted Then, Gennaro came in and rushed to him. He knocked Gennaro unconscious and ran away. Since then, he never came to our house. Also since that night, we became Enemy against each other.

"There was a meeting a few days later. The look on Gennaro's face when he came back from the meeting told me that something terrible must have happened. It was far worse than we could have imagined. The Red Circle was funded by Raised by blackmailing wealthy Italians with threats of violence if they don't pay. It appears that the Red Circle has found our close friend and benefactor Castalotti on his head. He Not afraid of threats, not yielding to their demands, but also handed over the letter to the police. The Red Circle decided to make an example of him and use him for surgery to prevent others from resisting. The meeting decided to blow him up with his house with explosives. Draw lots Decide who will carry out the task. As Gennaro reached into the bag to draw lots, he saw a faint smile on the murderous face of our enemy. No doubt some arrangements had been made beforehand, He had drawn the lot because the fatal red circle on it represented an order to kill, and he had only two choices, kill his best friend, or subject him and me to the vengeance of his associates. As long as it is someone they fear or hate, they must punish, not only hurting these people, but also hurting the people they love. This is one of their cruel rules. This kind of fear and worry goes to the root Naro hit him, driving him so anxious that he nearly lost his mind.

"All night we sat together, hand in hand, facing the suffering we were about to face. The hands-on time was set for the next night. Around twelve o'clock, my husband and I set off for London together, but We have not had time to inform our benefactor that he is in danger, nor have we had time to report this matter to the police to protect his future life.

"Gentlemen, you know the rest for yourselves. We know that our enemies follow us like a shadow. Giorgiano has his own reasons for taking revenge on us, but in any case we know how cruel, cunning, and obstinate he is. All of Italy and America are talking about his terrible power. If there is ever a time to prove his power, now is the best proof. My husband took advantage of the few days of good weather to help me find one The hiding place, in this way, can keep me safe. As for him, he also wants to get rid of them, so that he can get in touch with the police in the United States and Italy. I don't know where he lives and how he lives. About him I only found out about it from a missing person advertisement in a newspaper. Once I looked out of the window and saw that the house was being watched by two Italians. That's when I knew that Giorgiano had finally found Our whereabouts. Finally, from the newspapers, I learned that Gennaro was going to send me a signal from a certain window. But the signal that appeared was only a warning, nothing else, and it was interrupted suddenly. Now I understand, he Knew I was being watched by Giorgiano. Thank goodness that this guy was on his guard when he came. Gentlemen, now I have a question for you, what do we have to worry about according to the law? What judge in the world would convict Gennaro for what he did?"

"Well, Mr. Grayson," said the American, after glancing at the officer, "I don't know what you Brits think, but I think the lady's husband will be generally appreciated in New York." .”

"She must come with me to the Commissioner," replied Grayson. "If what she says is true, I don't think there is anything terrible about her or her husband. But what puzzles me, Mr. Holmes, is that Why did you even intervene in this matter?"

"Study, Grayson, study, you still need to go back to the university to learn something. Well, Watson, you can set down one more tragic and queer material. By the way, it is not yet eight o'clock, Wagner's opera is being played at Covent Garden tonight! Go now, and you'll still be in time for the second act."

Bruce-Partington plan
During the third week of November, [-], London was very foggy.I really doubt that we could see the outlines of the houses opposite from our window in Baker Street from Monday to Thursday.Holmes spent the whole of the first day indexing his enormous reference volume.He spent the second and third days working on a subject he had recently become fond of - medieval music.On the fourth day, after breakfast, after we had pushed our chairs back under the table, the damp mist rushed towards us, forming oily droplets on the window sill, and my impatient friend seemed unable to bear it any longer. A monotonous state.He suppressed his temper and kept walking up and down in the living room, sometimes biting his nails and sometimes knocking on the furniture, obviously very annoyed by this lifeless life.

"Is there anything interesting in the paper, Watson?" he asked.

I knew that by interesting news Holmes meant interesting incidents of crime.The newspapers carried news of a revolution, of a possible war, and of an imminent reshuffle of the government.But these, my companions are not interested.And the reports of crime I've seen have been extremely unremarkable.Holmes sighed, and continued pacing up and down.

"London's criminals are so brainless," he muttered, like a frustrated athlete, "Look, Watson, a figure looms outside the window and disappears in the fog In this weather, thieves and murderers can roam London as freely as a tiger in the woods, and no one will see it unless it pounces on its victim. Of course only the victim can see clearly."

"There are a lot of thieves." I said.

Holmes snorted disdainfully.

"This big gray stage is set for something bigger than that," he said. "I'm not a criminal. It's just the luck of this society."

"Indeed." I said sincerely.

"If I were Brooks or Woodhouse, or any of the fifty men who had every reason to kill me, how long would I live under my own scrutiny? A subpoena, a sham date, It's all right. Thankfully there's no fog in those Latin countries--assassination countries. Ha! There's something for us to do at last, and the monotony is coming to an end."

Holmes opened a telegram from the maid and laughed aloud.

"Well! well! what's more unexpected?" said he. "My brother Mycroft is coming."

"Why not come?" I asked.

"Why can't you come? It's like a tram coming in on a country road. Mycroft has his track, and he's only fit to run on his track. Pall Mall—his place, Dio The Kenny Club, Whitehall—those are his circles. Here, he's only been here once, and only once. What brought him here this time?"

"Didn't he tell you why you came?"

Holmes handed me his brother's telegram.

Must see you about Cadogan West, coming soon.

Mycroft

"Cadogan West? I've heard that name before."

"I don't have much impression. But Mycroft came suddenly, it's a bit abnormal, and the planet will also go out of orbit. By the way, do you know what Mycroft does?"

I have a vague impression that I heard about it when I was investigating the "Greek Interpreter" case. "You mentioned to me that he was in the British government."

Holmes laughed.

"I didn't know you very well then. You have to be careful when you talk about the government. It's true that he works for the government, but in a sense you can call him the British government."

"My dear Holmes!"

"I expected my words to surprise you. Mycroft, who earns £450 a year, is a small clerk, without any ambition, without fame or profit, and yet the most indispensable man in our country. "

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, his position is very extraordinary, and he has achieved it by his own efforts. His talents are unprecedented. He is shrewd, thoughtful, orderly, and has a good memory. No one can match him. He is as good as I am. Ordinary people have advantages in thinking. I use this advantage in case investigation, and he uses this advantage in his special affairs. The data analysis and summary made by each department are sent to him. It's the clearinghouse, the clearinghouse, and he weighs everything. Others are experts, and he's a jack-of-all-trades. On the subject of standardism, the Minister could obtain disparate information from different departments. But only Mycroft could put this information together and make an immediate analysis of how the various factors interacted. At first, They used him as a handy tool; now he has become an indispensable key. In his great mind, everything is kept in categories and can be retrieved at once when needed. His opinions are time and time again. He lives in this kind of life. Unless I go to him and ask him a little question or two, he should practice his intelligence and relax. He doesn't think about anything else. But Cupid fell from the sky today. What's the matter? Who is Cadogan West? What has he to do with Mycroft?"

"I know," I exclaimed, throwing myself on the sofa piled with newspapers, "here, yes, yes, it must be because of this! Cadogan West is a young man who was found dead on Tuesday morning in On the subway tracks."

Holmes straightened up, stopped the pipe he was about to put to his lips, and concentrated on his thoughts.

"It must be a serious matter, Watson. It seems very unusual that the death of a man should have caused my brother to change his habit and come to me. What has this man to do with him? It seems to me that the matter has not yet been settled." Clearly, the young man apparently fell to his death from the train. He was not mugged, and there is no particular evidence to suspect a case of violence, is there?"

"The body has been examined," I said, "and many doubts have been found. Come to think of it, this case is very strange."

"Judging from my brother's reaction, I think this case must be extraordinary." He leaned back in his chair. "Watson, let's go through the information on the case."

"The man's name is Arthur Cadogan West, aged 27, single, clerk at Woolwich Arsenal."

"Government clerk. See, involved with Brother Mycroft!"

"He left Woolwich abruptly on Monday night and was last seen by his fiancée, Miss Violet Westbury. He left her abruptly at 07:30 on that foggy evening. They didn't have a conflict, and she didn't know what caused him to leave without saying goodbye. Another thing about him is that his body was found by a railway worker named Mason outside Algate station on the London Underground. "

"When?"

"The body was found at six o'clock on Tuesday morning at the left-hand end of the eastbound tracks, just a short distance from the station, where the line emerges from the tunnel. He had a broken head and was badly wounded. It may be caused by falling from the train. It can only be caused by falling from the train. If you want to carry the body from a nearby street, you must pass the platform. There are always inspectors at the platform entrance. This point There is no doubt about it."

"Well, the situation is clear now. This man was thrown off the train either dead or alive. I see that, and I will go on."

"West to east trains passed along the tracks near the body, some from the city, some from Willesden and neighboring stations. It is certain that the young man who died that night was late in the day. He went in this direction by car. However, there is no way to determine where he got on the car."

"Just look at his ticket."

"No ticket was found in his pocket."

"No ticket? Why, Watson, that is strange. In my experience, one cannot enter a subway platform without presenting one's ticket. If he had a ticket, it was taken from him so that no one would know that he was on the platform. Is it the station of the train? It is possible. Maybe he threw the ticket in the compartment? It is also possible. This is very strange and interesting, and there is no sign of being robbed, right?"

"Apparently not. Here's a list of his belongings. Two pounds fifteen shillings in the wallet. And a check from the Woolwich branch of the Capital and County Bank. These things will identify him. And Ur Two tickets to a special at the Welch Theatre, dated the night of the incident. And a small bundle of technical papers."

Holmes exclaimed in a tone of satisfaction:
(End of this chapter)