The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 187 New Detective Case (9)
"I grabbed him, but he threw me off, and maybe another man hit me, because I don't remember anything after that. Mary, the maid, heard the noise and yelled out the window, and the police came, But the rogue has escaped."

"What did they take?"

"It doesn't seem to have taken anything of value. They just rummaged around my son's box. I know there is nothing in my son's box."

"Did they leave no trace?"

"There is a piece of paper that I may have snatched from the man, and it fell on the floor, very crumpled, in my son's handwriting."

"Since it's his handwriting, the paper is useless," said the inspector. "If it's the prisoner's handwriting, then—"

"Smart," said Holmes, "sound common sense! Still, I am curious to see the paper."

The officer produced a large sheet of writing paper from his notebook.

"I never let anything go unnoticed," he said solemnly. "And that is my advice to you, Mr. Holmes. I have learned something in twenty years' work, and there is always the possibility of finding fingerprints." What."

Holmes examined the paper.

"What do you think, Mr. Inspector?"

"It looks to me like the end of a queer novel."

"It may be the end of a queer story," said Holmes. "You see the number of pages above. 240 five pages. Where are the 240 four pages?"

"The prisoner took it, I think. What use is it to them!"

"It's a very strange thing to break into a house and steal something like that. What do you think it means?"

"Yeah, it goes to show that in the panic they get what they get. I hope they're happy with what they got."

"Why go through my son's things at all?" asked Mrs. Maberley.

"Well, they didn't find anything of value downstairs, so they went upstairs. That's my analysis. What do you think, Mr. Holmes?"

"I must think it over. Come to the window, Watson." We stood while he read the paper.It begins with a half-sentence, which reads:

... There was a lot of blood on his face from knife wounds and fist wounds, but compared to the pain in his heart, this was nothing.He looked at the face for which he would have given everything, and the face looked indifferently at his grief and humiliation.He raised his head to look at her, she actually smiled, she actually laughed!Just like a devil!In this instant, love dies and hate arises.One must live with a purpose.Miss, since I can't hug you, let me make your destruction and revenge my goal in life.

"What a strange grammar!" Holmes returned the paper to the officer with a smile. "Did you notice that 'he' suddenly became 'I'? The author was too excited, and at the critical moment he fancied himself the protagonist."

"The article is not very good," said the inspector, putting the paper back into his book. "Why, are you going away, Mr. Holmes?"

"Since the case is being investigated by capable men, I can't be of much help here. By the way, Mrs. Maberley, you seem to have said that you wanted to travel abroad, didn't you?"

"That has always been my dream, Mr. Holmes."

"Where are you going, Cairo? Madeira? Or the Riviera?"

"Well, if I had money, I'd travel all over the world."

"Yes, world tour. All right. Good-bye. I might send you a letter this afternoon." As I passed the window, I caught sight of the officer smiling and shaking his head.His smile seemed to say, "This kind of smart person is somewhat crazy."

"Well, Watson, our journey has come to an end," said Holmes, as we returned to the hustle and bustle of central London. "I think it best to get this matter over with at once. You'd better be able to Come with me, because with a lady like Isadora Klein, it's safer to have a witness."

We hired a cab and drove quickly to an address in Grosvenor Square.Holmes, who had been brooding and silent, suddenly spoke to me.

"I say, Watson, do you understand what is the matter?"

"Not yet. All I know is that we're going to meet the lady behind the scenes."

"That's right! But don't you remember the name Isadora Klein? Of course, she is that famous beauty. There has never been a woman comparable to her. She is of pure Spanish descent, the descendant of the conqueror of South America. of blood, her family had ruled Pernambuco, Brazil for generations. She married Klein, the old German sugar magnate, and soon became the most beautiful and richest widow in the world. During the period, she became free and had several lovers, and Douglas Maberley, one of the most extraordinary figures in London, was also one of her lovers. From the general reports, he was not a society. A flashy boy, but a strong and proud person, and he did not pursue her impulsively. He gave everything he had and expected everything. She, on the other hand, was a ruthless beauty in a romance novel. Her After the requirements are met, she will break up with the other party, and if the other party does not accept her opinion, she will use any means to achieve her goal."

"So it was his own story—"

"Yes, now we have roughly seen the outline of the whole incident! I heard that she is about to marry the young Duke of Lomont, who is almost old enough to be her son. The Duke's mother may not mind her age, but If another serious scandal were to come out at this time, the marriage would be in jeopardy, so it was necessary—oh, here we are."

This is one of the most sophisticated homes in London's West End.A stolid, staring servant brought up our cards and came back to say that the mistress was not at home."Then we shall wait for her return," said Holmes without disappointment.

The mechanical servant panicked.

"Not at home is not at home for you," said the servant.

"Very well," said Holmes, "then we shall not have to wait. Please give this note to your mistress."

As he spoke, he tore off a page from the diary, wrote three or four words in a hurry, folded it and handed it to the servant.

"What did you write?" I asked.

"I simply wrote: 'Turn over to the police?' I believe this will let us in."

Sure enough - surprisingly fast. A minute later we were in a slightly eerily offbeat living room, large and elegant, half-dark against the pink electric lights of a special occasion.It seemed to me that the mistress had reached a certain age at which even the most flamboyant beauties prefer a darker light.As soon as we entered the room, she stood up from the armchair, tall, dignified, with a beautiful figure, a face like a statue, and two beautiful Spanish eyes that gleamed fiercely at us.

"Why meddle with me—why this insulting note?" she said, holding the note in her hand.

"Ma'am, I don't need to explain. I'm sure you're a clever man, but I have to admit that you've been a little out of your head lately."

"What do you mean?"

"Because you hired scoundrels to threaten me. You should know that Detective Sherlock Holmes never backs down from any intimidation. I chose this profession precisely because I like adventure and excitement. So, you forced me to investigate young Mabel Lee's case."

"I don't understand what you're talking about. What have I to do with hired hoodlums?"

"Yes, I did underestimate your intellect. Well, good-bye." Holmes turned away impatiently.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Scotland Yard."

Before we could reach the door she came after us and took Holmes by the arm.Her attitude immediately changed from rough and indifferent to gentle and kind.

"Sit down, gentlemen. Let us have a good talk. Mr. Holmes, I think I can tell you the truth. You have a gentleman's sentiments. How sensitive a woman's instinct is to this. I may consider you a friend." Treat it like that."

"I cannot vouch for you to be treated that way, ma'am. I am not the law, but to the extent that I can, I represent justice. I will listen to you, and then I will tell you how I will act."

"There is no doubt that I was too foolish to threaten such a brave man as you."

"No, what's really stupid is that you give yourself over to a bunch of hooligans who might blackmail or sell you out."

"No! I'm not that simple. Since I promised to tell the truth, I can confess that no one but Barney and his wife Susan really know who their customers are. As for the two of them, it's not First time—" She smiled, nodding playfully.

"So it is. You tested them?"

"They're hounds that don't give a shit."

"Sooner or later these hounds will bite the hand that feeds them. They will be arrested for the theft. The police are tracking them."

"They're going to accept it. It's a condition of their employment. Anyway, I'm not going to show up."

"So, I'm the only one here to show you your true colors?"

"No, you won't, because you're a dignified gentleman. You won't reveal a woman's secret."

"Then, you must return Douglas's manuscript."

She let out a quick laugh and walked towards the fireplace.She poked a pile of paper ashes with a poker. "Shall I return this?" she asked.She smiled at us defiantly, with an air so rascally and well-mannered that, of all Holmes' criminals, I thought she was probably the most difficult for him to deal with.Holmes, however, was unmoved.

"This seals your fate," he said coldly. "You are quick, ma'am, but you have gone too far this time."

She dropped the poker with a snap.

"You are so cruel!" she exclaimed. "Shall I tell you the whole story?"

"I thought I might tell you."

"But you must see the matter with my eyes, Mr. Holmes. You must see that it is the action of a woman who sees her life's ambitions about to be destroyed. What crime does such a woman have to defend herself?" ?"

"The original sin is yours."

"Of course, of course, I admit. Douglas is a lovely boy, but as fate has it, he does not fit into my scheme. He asks to marry--marry, Mr. Holmes--to a penniless commoner. He insists. Not this, nothing else. Then he became unreasonable. Since I gave, he thought I had to give forever, and only to him. This was intolerable. Finally I had to make him see Reality."

"Hire hooligans to beat him up."

"Looks like you do know it all. Yes. Barney and the lads turned him off, which I admit went a little too far. But what did he do afterwards? How can I trust a gentleman with self-respect How could such a thing happen? He wrote an autobiographical novel to attack me! He wrote my life experience, everything about him and me in it. Although he used a fake name, who in London would read it? Not coming out? What do you think of this behaviour, Mr. Holmes?"

"Me, I don't think he has gone beyond the scope of legal rights."

"It was as if his blood had been infused with the Italian climate and at the same time with the spirit of old Italian cruelty. He wrote to me and sent me a copy, just to torture me. He said the manuscript was in duplicate—one One for me and another for his publisher."

"How do you know the publisher hasn't received the manuscript yet?"

"I had known his publisher for a long time. It was not his only novel. I found out that the publisher had not yet received a letter from Italy. Then came the news that Douglas had died of sudden illness. As long as that manuscript is still alive, Then there is no safety for me. The manuscript must be among his relics, and the relics must be given to his mother. I asked those people to take action, and one of them broke into the house and became a maid. I originally wanted to use legitimate I did so with all my heart. I would have bought the house and everything in it, and would have given any price. It was only when all else had failed that I resorted to other means. You see, Holmes Sir, even if I were cruel to Douglas--God knows how I regret it! But what choice would I have when all my careers were at stake?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, well," he said, "looks like I'm going to have to do the usual damages again without suing. How much does it cost to travel the world first class?"

The hostess looked at him with wide-eyed inexplicable eyes.

"Is five thousand pounds enough?"

"Yes, I've seen enough!"

"Very well. I think you can sign me a check, which I will forward to Mrs. Maberley. It is your duty to change her surroundings. Besides, Miss," he warned, holding out his forefinger, "you must be careful! Beware! You will never play with fire so often without burning your tender hands."

vampire woman
Holmes read carefully a letter he had just received, and then, with an indifferent smile--which was the last thing he was on the verge of laughing--had thrown the letter at me.

"This letter is really a combination of modern and medieval, fact and fantasy." He said, "Watson, please read it too."

I took the letter and it said:
about vampires

Dear Sirs:
A customer of our shop, Mr. Robert Ferguson of Ferguson Millhead Tea Distribution Company in Minshing Avenue, wrote today to inquire about vampires.Since our shop only specializes in machinery valuation business, this consultation is not within the scope of our shop, so we would like to introduce Mr. Ferguson to visit your place.It is memorable to hear that your Excellency was successful in the case of Matilda Briggs.

Morrison-Dow

Sincerely, Morrison

Handled by eJc.

46 Old Curry Road
November [-]
"Matilda was not a maiden's name," recalled Holmes. "It was a ship, and it had something to do with a giant rat in Sumatra, and that case did surprise the public. But what have we to do with vampires? That's our business." The scope? Of course, any case is better than idle work. But this time we have entered the Grimm's fairy tale. Watson, look it up and see what the letter V says."

I turned around and took down the big index and showed it to him.With the book in his lap, Holmes turned slowly and cheerfully through the records of the old case, mingled with the knowledge accumulated over a lifetime.

"Voyage of the Gloria Scott," he read, "was a pretty bad case. I remember you made some notes, but it didn't end well. Counterfeiter Victor Lynch. Poison Lizard, that's a great case. Vittoria the Circuswoman, Vanderbilt and the Thief, the Viper, Vigil the Strange Blacksmith. Ha! My old index book. You really have it all. Listen to this, Watson. Hungarian vampire witchcraft. And, the case of the vampire in Transylvania." He read the book enthusiastically for a long time, then snorted in disappointment, and threw the book on the table.

"Nonsense, Watson, it is all nonsense! What have we to do with zombies who have to be splinted in their graves to keep them from moving about? Pure nonsense."

"However," I said, "maybe a vampire doesn't have to be a dead person? A living person can also have the habit of sucking blood. For example, I read in a book that some old people suck the blood of young people to stay young."

"You are quite right. This kind of legend is mentioned in this index. But can we believe this kind of thing? This manager is standing on the earth with two feet, so he can't leave the earth. This world is right We're old enough for us not to get involved in Ghostland. I don't think Ferguson should be taken too seriously. The following letter may have been written by him, and may shed some light on what it is that's troubling him."

As he spoke, he picked up another letter from the table. He was so absorbed in studying the first letter just now that he didn't notice it.He began to read the letter with a smile, which changed into a concentrated and nervous expression as he read.After reading it, he leaned back in his chair and meditated, the letter still between his fingers.Then he was startled and woke up from deep thought.

"Lambury, Cheeseman Park. Watson, where is Lamberley?"

"In Sussex, just south of Horsham."

"It's not very far, is it? How about Cheeseman Park?"

"I'm more familiar with the countryside in that area. There are many old houses there, all named after the surnames of the original owners centuries ago, such as Audley Manor, Harvey Manor, Kellyton Manor, etc., although Those families have long been forgotten, but their surnames are still passed down through the house."

"Very well," said Holmes coldly.It was a feature of his proud and self-possessed temperament that, though he tended to bring all new knowledge into his head quietly and accurately, he seldom thanked the purveyors of it. "I think we'll learn more about Cheesman before long. The letter is from Ferguson himself, as I expected. By the way, he claims to know you."

"What, know me?!"

"Read the letter yourself."

As he spoke, he handed over the letter.The sender's address was the one he read just now.I read:

Dear Mr. Holmes:
My lawyer referred me to you, but my issue is too sensitive to know where to start.I was entrusted by a friend to consult.My friend, who is a gentleman, married, five years ago, a young lady from Peru, the daughter of a Peruvian merchant whom my friend had met in the course of importing nitric acid.She was beautiful, but differences in nationality and religion always created an emotional and practical divide between the couple.As a result, his affection for her may have cooled after a while, and he may have considered the marriage a mistake.He felt that there was something in her character which he could never fathom or understand.It was all the more painful, for she was one of those rare tender and loving wives—one who loved her husband absolutely faithfully in every way.

(End of this chapter)