The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 18 Four Signatures (2)
I felt that it was an inconvenience for me to be there, so I stood up and said, "Forgive me for your excuse."

Unexpectedly, the young girl held out her gloved hand to stop me, and said, "If you will sit down for a while, you may be able to help me a lot."

So I sat back in my seat.

She continued: "Simply put, here's what happened. My father was an officer in India and I was sent back to England when I was very young. My mother died early and I had no relatives in the country, so I was sent to the UK. I was sent to the city of Edinburgh, in a comfortable boarding-school, and remained there until I was seventeen. In 17 my father--he was the oldest captain in the regiment-- Twelve months' leave to return to his country. He telegraphed from London to tell me that he had arrived safely in London and was lodging at the Langham Hotel, urging me to meet at once. I remember that in his telegram Full of kindness. I drove to the Langham Hotel as soon as I arrived in London. The sexton told me that Captain Morstan did live there, but he hasn't returned since he went out the night before. I waited all day and there was no Any news. At night, on the advice of the manager of the hotel, I reported to the police, and placed a missing person in the major newspapers next morning. Our inquiries came to nothing. From that day until now, I have never heard any news about my unfortunate father. He returned to his motherland with great hopes in his heart. He thought he could enjoy his old age in peace, but unexpectedly..."

She touched her throat with her hands, and before she finished speaking, she was already sobbing.

Holmes opened his notebook and asked, "Do you remember those days?"

"He disappeared on December [-]rd, [-]--nearly ten years."

"Where's his luggage?"

"Still in the hotel. Nothing in the luggage could be found to serve as a clue--some clothes and books, and a lot of curios from the Andaman Islands. He used to be an officer in charge of prisoners there."

"Has he any friends in London?"

"We only know of one—Major Sholto of the No. 30 Fourth Regiment of the Bombay Army, who was in his regiment. The major was retired by then, and lived in Upper Norwood. Of course we had contact with him, But he doesn't even know that my father has returned to England."

Holmes said, "What a strange thing."

"The strangest thing I haven't come across yet. About six years ago--the exact date is May [-], [-]--I found an advertisement in The Times asking May Miss Lee Morstan's address, and said it would be to her advantage if she responded. There was no signature or address under the ad. I had just arrived as governess at Mrs. Sissel Forrester. I and her After discussion, my address was published in the advertisement column of the newspaper. On the same day, someone sent me a small cardboard box from the post office, which contained a large and very shiny bead, and there was no word in the box. Since then From then on, I always received the same carton with the same bead inside on the same day every year, but I have never been able to find any clues to the sender. These beads were identified by experts and said to be rare. They are very valuable. Look at these pearls, they are very fine." As she spoke, she opened a flat case, and I saw six fine pearls that I had never seen in my life.

"What you say is very interesting," said Holmes. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I received this letter this morning. Please read it. That is why I have come to ask you for advice."

"Thank you," said Holmes. "Give me the envelope, too. Postmarked, South West London. Date, September [-]th. Ah, there is a thumb-print in the corner, probably from the postman. The paper is very good, and the envelope is worth six." A penny, the writer is particular about the paper envelope, no sender's address.' Please wait for me at the third pillar from the left outside the Lytheham Theater at seven o'clock tonight. If in doubt, take two friends Come along. You are a wronged woman, and justice will be done. Don't bring the police, and you will never meet. Your unknown friend.' This is a fun mystery, Miss Morstan, you are ready How to do it?"

"That's what I want to discuss with you."

"We must go. You and I, and—yes, Dr. Watson is what we need. The letter says, two friends, that he and I have been working together."

"But will he go?" she asked Holmes, looking at me imploringly.

I said enthusiastically: "As long as I can play, it is my honor."

She said excitedly: "I am very grateful for the generosity of the two of you. I am lonely and have no friends to turn to. I will come here at six o'clock in the evening, okay?"

Holmes said: "But it can't be too late. One more point. Is the handwriting on this letter the same as the handwriting on the locket in which you sent the beads?"

She took out six pieces of paper and said, "It's all here."

"You are very thoughtful, and you are a model among my clients. Let us take a look now." He spread all the letter papers on the table and continued to compare them one by one, "Except for this letter Except for the letter, the handwriting is all camouflage, but there is no doubt that it is the work of one person. You see how prominent the Greek e is, and the way the s is bent at the end. Miss Morstan, I don’t want to give You have unrealistic hopes, but I would like to know if there is any resemblance between these handwriting and your father's?"

"Never the same."

"I think so too. Then we will be waiting for you here at six o'clock in the evening. Please leave these letters, I need to study them first. It is 03:30 in the afternoon. Good-bye."

"Farewell," replied our guest, and looking at us again with kind eyes, she put the case of beads on her breast, and hurried out.I stood at the window and watched her walk briskly down the street until her gray cap and white plume disappeared into the crowd.

I turned to my partner and said, "What a beautiful girl she is!"

He had already relighted his pipe, leaned back on the chair, closed his eyes, and said weakly, "Really? I didn't pay attention."

I yelled, "You're a robot, a computer! Sometimes you have absolutely no humanity at all."

He smiled gently and said: "Don't let a person's characteristics affect your ability to judge, this is the most important thing. A client is just a unit to me—a factor in the problem. Emotional effects will affect rational sobriety One of the most beautiful women I ever saw in my life was hanged for poisoning three children for insurance payouts. But one of the most unlovable men I ever knew was a philanthropist, He donated £25 to the poor in London."

"But this time—"

"I have no exceptions here. There are no exceptions to the laws. Have you ever studied the characteristics of handwriting? What do you think of this man's handwriting?"

I replied, "It's fairly clear and neat, written by a man with business experience and a strong character."

Holmes shook his head and said, "You can see that the long letters he wrote are almost not taller than ordinary letters. The letter D is like a letter A, and the letter C is like an E letter. No matter how difficult it is for a person with a strong character to read, the letter He is always tall and short. His K letter is not neatly written, but his uppercase letters are still neat. Now I am going out, and I have some problems to figure out. I introduce you to a book--a most extraordinary book. This is Winwood Rhett's "Chengrenji", I will be back in an hour after I go out." I sat by the window with a book, but my mind was not on studying the author's masterpiece.My mind was occupied with the new visitor--her beauty, her manners, and her strange encounter.If she had been seventeen when her father disappeared, she would be twenty-seven now—the stage at which youth fades into a more sophisticated age.I just sat there brooding, until dangerous delusions came into my head.I hastily sat down at my desk, pulled out a recent paper on pathology, and pored over it to curb my paranoia.What kind of person am I?How could an army doctor with a broken leg and no money have such delusions?She was just a unit, a factor in the case -- nothing more.If my future is dark, it's better to take on the future resolutely instead of thinking wildly and trying to reverse my destiny.

Three looking for answers
Sherlock Holmes did not return until 05:30 in the afternoon.He was full of energy, very excited--it was obvious that he had seen the light of day in this most difficult problem.

Holding a cup of tea I poured him, he said, "There is nothing mysterious about this case. There seems to be only one explanation for all the facts."

"What?! You've already figured out the truth?!"

"Can't say that yet. But I've found a suggestive fact, a very useful thread, and of course some details to piece together. I've just found out from an old Times Obituary of Wood's ex-Major Sholto, No. 30, Fourth Regiment, Army, Bombay, died April 28, [-]."

"I may be dull, Holmes, but I don't see what this obituary has to say about the case."

"Don't you really understand? Didn't think so? Let's look at it this way, then. Captain Morstan is missing. Major Sholto was probably the only one he was going to call on in London, but Major Sholto said nothing at all." It was not known that he had been in London. Four years later Sholto died. Within a week of his death Captain Morstan's daughter received a present of great value, and received it every year thereafter. Now she Received a letter saying that she was a wronged person. So what could be wronged besides the loss of her own father? And why only a few days after Sholto's death Did gifts begin to be sent to her? Could it be that Sholto’s heirs knew the secret and wanted to use these gifts to make up for the sins of their ancestors? Do you have any different opinions on the above facts?”

"Why this way of atonement? It's such a strange way! Besides, why did he write now and not six years ago? Besides, the letter said to give her justice. What justice can she get? If she Father is still alive, so that may not be too optimistic. But you don't know what other grievances she has suffered. "

"It is true that there are difficulties, and there are some inexplicable points." Holmes pondered. "But we will take a walk this evening, and we will understand everything. Ah, there is a carriage, and Miss Morstan is in it. You Are you ready? We'd better hurry down, it's getting late."

I put on my hat, and took the heaviest cane, while Holmes took his pistol from the drawer, and put it in his pocket.This showed that he expected that tonight's work might be a risky venture.

Miss Morstan was dressed in black and wore a scarf, and although she tried to keep her composure, she was pale.If she hadn't felt the slightest bit of uneasiness about our strange adventure tonight, she would have had more stamina than any ordinary woman.She was in complete control of her emotions, and she was able to answer at once the few new questions that Sherlock Holmes posed.

She said: "Major Sholto is a very good friend of Dad. He is always mentioned in Dad's letters. He and Dad are both commanders of the Andaman Islands Garrison, so they are often together. Still Yes, I found a note in my father's desk that no one could read, and I thought it might have nothing to do with the case, but you might like to see it, so I brought it. Here it is."

Holmes carefully unfolded the paper, laid it flat on his lap, and examined it methodically with a double magnifying glass.

He said: "This paper is indigenous to India and this paper has been nailed on boards in the past. The diagram on the paper seems to be part of a large building plan, with many large rooms, corridors and passages. There is red ink in the middle. The drawn cross, on which there is a vague word written in pencil 'from the left 3.37'. There is a mysterious strange character in the upper left corner of the paper, like four connected crosses. It is written in extremely rough brushwork next to it Four signatures - Jonnozan Small, Mohamit Singh, Abdul Khan, Durst Akbur'. I really can't conclude that this has anything to do with this case. But it is undoubtedly an important document. The paper was carefully stored in a wallet, for both sides were equally clean."

"We found it in his wallet."

"Miss Morstan, please keep it well, it may be useful to us in the future. Now I think this case is more profound and incomprehensible than I thought at first. I need to reconsider." He said Just lean back on the back of the seat.From his furrowed brows and dazed eyes, I could see that he was thinking deeply.Miss Morstan and I chatted softly about our present actions and possible outcomes, but our companions remained silent till we reached the end of our journey.

It was an evening in September, it was not yet seven o'clock, the weather was gloomy, and a thick fog enveloped the city.The streets were muddy, and the sky was filled with depressing black clouds.The dim street lamps on London's riverside road cast only dots of light on the muddy sidewalks.A faint yellow light shines through the glass windows of the shops on both sides, through the mist, and shines on the street crowded with cars and horses.I thought to myself, under the twinkling lights, the continuous stream of pedestrians, their facial expressions ranged from joy to sorrow, haggard and joy—but they contained infinite grotesques and strangeness.It's like a person's life, from darkness to light, and from light to darkness.I am not a man of impressions, but on this dreary night, before the wonders we were about to meet, my spirits were strained.I could tell by Miss Morstan's expression that she felt the same way I did.Only Sherlock Holmes is immune to outside influences.With the light of the flashlight in his arms, he kept writing on the notepad.

The entrances to both sides of the Lyceham Theater were filled with water.Two-wheeled and four-wheeled carriages kept coming like a stream.Men in gowns with white breasts exposed and women in scarves and jewels got out of the car one by one.No sooner had we approached the third pillar than we had agreed to, when a short, dark-faced, well-built man dressed as a coachman came and greeted us.

"Are you Miss Morstan's companions?" he asked.

She replied, "I am Miss Morstan, and these two are my friends."

The man looked at us with fierce eyes, and said bluntly: "Miss, please forgive me, I need you to make sure that there are no police officers among your companions."

"I can guarantee it," she replied.

He whistled once with his lips, and a tramp came up to him leading a carriage, and he opened the door.The person who talked to us jumped onto the coachman's seat, and we got into the car one after another. Before we could sit down, the coachman had whipped his horse and drove quickly on the foggy street.

The circumstances in which we live are peculiar.We neither knew where we were going nor what we were going to do.If it is to be fooled by others, it seems impossible, maybe it is not a waste of time, and some important results can always be obtained.Miss Morstan's attitude was as firm and composed as before.I tried to encourage and comfort her, and I told her stories of my adventures in Afghanistan.However, to be honest, I am also nervous and uneasy about our environment and unknown destiny, so that the stories I tell seem messy.To this day she jokes about my vivid stories of how I killed a double-barreled gun that came into the tent in the middle of the night with a tiger cub.At first I could make out the road we were taking, but before long the thick fog, and my unfamiliarity with London, made me lose my way.I don't know anything about it, except that the itinerary seems to be far away.But Holmes was not lost, and he could murmur the names of the places where the car passed.

He said: "Rochester Road, this is Vincent Square. Now we seem to be going from Vauxhall Bridge Road to Surrey. Yes, that's the way. We are now on the bridge, You can see the glint on the river."

We did catch a view of the Thames illuminated by lights, but we drove on and soon reached the bewildering street on the other side of the river.

Again my companion cried: "Wadsworth Road, Abbey Road, Larkhall Lane, Stockwell Street, Robert Street, Cold Harbor Lane, we don't seem to be going in the direction of noble districts."

We did reach a suspicious, scary area.Until you saw some vulgar, dazzling wine shops on the corner of the street, there were continuous dark gray brick buildings on both sides.Then came rows of two-story dwellings, each with a small garden in front of them, interspersed with new brick buildings—the new suburban extension of the great city.Finally, the car stopped in front of the third gate of the new district.The other houses are still unoccupied.In front of the house where we parked, it was as dark as the others except for a faint light from the kitchen window.Immediately after we knocked on the door, an Indian servant in a yellow turban, a baggy white suit, and a yellow belt opened the door.It seemed rather incongruous that an Oriental servant appeared at the door of this ordinary third-class suburban residence.

He said, "My master is waiting." Before he could finish his words, someone in the house shouted, "Jitmutga, please come to me, please come all the way to me."

A Tale of Four Bald Men
(End of this chapter)