The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 196 New Detective Case (18)
Suddenly something happened!It wasn't that the chain broke, but the dog's neck slipped out of the leather loop, because that leather loop was made for thick-necked dogs.I only heard the sound of the iron chain falling to the ground, and then I saw people and dogs rolling together, the dogs were roaring, and the people were screaming strangely.The professor nearly died.The wolfhound was biting his throat, the teeth were deep in his teeth, and he was unconscious when we caught up and separated them.It would have been dangerous for us, but fortunately Burnett came along, and his yelling instantly brought the dog back to his senses.The cries drew the sleepy coachman from his room above the stables. "I knew it was going to happen," he said, shaking his head. "I've seen him tease the dog like that. I knew the dog was going to bite him sooner or later."

After the dog was tied up, we carried the professor to his bedroom together.Burnett, who has a medical degree, helped me with the professor's bitten throat.The canine teeth almost bit off the carotid artery, and the bleeding was severe.After half an hour the danger was over.I injected the patient with morphine and he fell into a deep sleep.Until then, we all breathed a sigh of relief, looked at each other, and began to assess the situation.

"I think he should be seen by a surgical authority," I said.

"No!" cried Burnett. "The scandal is now within the family. We are safe. Once it is out of the family, it is boundless. Consider his position in the University, his reputation in Europe, And his daughter's feelings."

"Indeed," said Holmes, "I feel that we can keep it a secret from others, and that, now that we have freedom of action, we should prevent it from happening again. Mr. Burnett, here is the key from the fob-chain." .McPhee is keeping watch over the patients and will report to us immediately if there is any change. Let's go and see what's in the professor's mysterious box."

Not much, but enough to illustrate the point--two medicine bottles, one empty, the other still containing liquid; a syringe; a few letters written crookedly by foreigners.The envelopes were marked so that it was not necessary to look at them carefully, and each letter was from London's Commercial Road, and was signed by "Dorak".The content is only a list of new drugs to be mailed, or a receipt for payment.But there was another letter, in a literate hand, with an Austrian stamp and a Prague postmark. "There is proof now!" cried Holmes, drawing out the paper.It says:

Dear colleagues:
Since your lord's visit, I have considered your situation over and over again, and although there are special reasons for the need for treatment, I still advocate caution, as previous treatments have shown that the drug has quite dangerous side effects.

Ape serum may have a better effect.But as I said, for such specimens I sampled black-faced apes.Black-faced apes are crawling and climbing, while apes are upright, so they are closer to humans.

I would like to ask you to proceed with caution, this drug is only in the experimental stage, do not spread this therapy in its immature stage.I have another client in England, both with Dorak as my agent.

Please report the curative effect on time every week.

Sincerely,
Noble salute

H. Lowenstein
It was Lowenstein!The name reminds me of a newspaper excerpt in which an unknown scientist is working on rejuvenation and elixirs of youth in a curious way.This is Lowenstein in Prague!He has a fortifying serum that is banned by the medical profession because he refuses to publish the prescription.I briefly explained the situation.Burnett took a zoological handbook from the shelf and read: "'The black-faced ape, the great black-faced ape of the foothills of the Himalayas, is the largest humanoid reptile.' There are many details here. Ah Thanks to your help, Mr. Holmes, we have now found the root cause."

"But the real root," said Holmes, "is the professor's untimely love affair, which made the impetuous professor think that the only way to achieve his goal was to regain his youth. However, the laws of nature cannot be violated, and anyone who tries to surpass them will eventually be thrown away. into the abyss." With the vial in his hand, he sat for a moment in thought, his eyes fixed on the clear liquid. "When I write the man a letter and tell him I think the sale of this poison is a crime, our business will be over. But the same thing will happen. Someone else will come up with a better way. But always It is dangerous, it is a real threat to human beings. Watson, think about it, if those who pursue material enjoyment and sensory stimulation are allowed to violate the laws of nature to prolong the life of Wuwei, while those who pursue spiritual values ​​follow the laws of nature , then can this world still be called the world?" Suddenly, the imaginative Holmes jumped up from his chair and became a man of action again. "Mr. Burnett, I think the matter is clear. Every detail fits the clues of the case. Of course, the dog noticed the change earlier than the man. The professor's smell cannot escape the dog's nose. It was not the professor that Roy bit, but the It's an ape, just as it's an ape that teases a dog. Climbing is only an instinct for an ape, and it's pure chance that he put his head in his daughter's window. Watson, there's a train to London, but let's have a drink at the hotel first. Let's go for tea."

seaside mystery
After retiring, I left the gloomy London where I lived for many years, retired to a small Sussex cottage, and lived a quiet pastoral life wholeheartedly. My partner Watson, except for occasional weekends, we seldom interacted with each other.But just at this moment, a strange and difficult case came to me. If Watson was with me, I would have been able to tell the twists and turns vividly. Every step of the difficult road to the discovery of the Lion's Mane mystery, presented to the author in my own words.

My villa is located at the southern foot of the Sussex Downs, facing the vast channel.On this promontory, the whole coast is covered with chalk cliffs, and the only way to go down to the sea is by a long, rough, steep and slippery path.At the end of the path there is 100 meters of pebbly beach even at high tide.But here and there there are pits, large and small, that refill with water after each high tide, forming naturally good swimming pools.On the stretch of coastline, there is only one small bay, the village of Falworth.

My villa is not adjacent to other houses.The big house is just me, the old housekeeper and my bees.The villa is less than 1000 meters from Harold Styehurst's famous private school, the Gables School.The school consisted of a rather large building, with dozens of young students training for different professions, and several teachers.In his youth, Stadhurst was a well-known rower at Cambridge University and an all-round outstanding student.We have become good friends since I moved to the seaside, and we see each other not only frequently, but quite casually.

One night at the end of July in [-], a strong sea breeze blew, and the potholes on the beach were naturally filled with seawater.The next morning the wind had calmed down, and the beach was very fresh after being washed.In such a pleasant and fresh morning, I put down the work at hand and went out for a walk before breakfast to breathe the fresh air and enjoy the beautiful scenery of the sea.I walked along the path from the cliff to the beach.I heard someone shouting behind me, and it was Stadhurst waving for joy.

"What a morning, Mr. Holmes! I knew I'd see you here."

"Are you going swimming?"

"It's your inference again." He smiled, pointing to his bulging pocket, "Yes, McPherson came out early in the morning, I'll go swim with him."

Fitzroy McPherson was a science teacher, a fit young man, but unfortunately he also had heart problems due to rheumatic fever.But he's a natural athlete anyway, excelling in a variety of less strenuous sports.Regardless of winter and summer, he insists on swimming. Because I also love swimming, I often meet him.

That's when we saw him.His head poked out over the edge of the cliff at the end of the path, and then there was his figure on the cliff, staggering as if drunk.Suddenly he threw his hands over his head, uttered a cry of pain, and fell forward.Stadhurst and I ran over and helped him onto his back.He is obviously dying.Those sunken eyes and bluish cheeks were only signs of death.In an instant, a glimmer of life returned to his face, and he uttered two or three words with a serious warning expression.The voice was continuous and indistinct, and I only vaguely heard the words "lion's mane".Its meaning is far-fetched, incomprehensible, and perhaps I have misheard.After finishing speaking, he half raised his body, stretched out his hands, and fell sideways.he died.

My companion was overwhelmed by the sight.And I, as you can imagine, had every nerve on alert.Based on my many years of experience in judging cases, this is indeed an unusual case.He was only wearing a raincoat, trousers, and espadrilles without laces.As he fell, his raincoat, hastily thrown over his shoulders, slid off, exposing his torso.And the scars on his body surprised us even more.There were many dark red stripes on his back, as if he had been whipped with a very thin whip, making his back, even his shoulders and ribs red and swollen.Due to the extreme pain, his face was distorted and his lower lip was bitten and bleeding.It must be extremely cruel to whip a person into such a killer with something like a whip.

As I knelt beside the dead man for further examination, while Stadhurst stood bewildered, a shadow fell over us and it was Ian Murdoch who came to us.He was a teacher of mathematics, a tall, thin, dark man with few friends because of his taciturn and withdrawn temperament.Everything around him seems to have nothing to do with him, he only lives in the highly abstract world of conic sections and irrational numbers.Although the students regarded him as a monster, they did not dare to mock him face to face, because this man had a certain foreign temperament, which was not only reflected in his jet-black eyes and dark skin, but also in his occasional temper, which was It can only be described by the word "violence".Once, he was so annoyed by McPherson's puppy that he picked it up and threw it out of the window.Had he not been an excellent teacher, Stighurst would have sent him away on that account.It was this complex weirdo that came to us.It seems that he was indeed stunned by the horror of the deceased, although the puppy incident showed that there was a lack of affection between the deceased and him.

"Poor man! Poor man! What can I do? Can I help?"

"Were you with him just now? Can you tell us what happened?"

"Not together. I'm late today. I haven't been to the beach yet. I just got out of school. What can I do?"

"Then please report to the Woolworth Police Station immediately."

Without another word, he turned around and ran away.I took it upon myself to solve the case, while Stadhurst, terrified, remained beside the dead man.The first step I took, of course, was to note who was on the waterfront.From the top of the path I could see the whole seashore, and there was no one, only three or two figures in the distance moving towards Falworth.Having established this, I descended the trail.The chalky soil was mingled with clay and stucco, and I saw on the trail the same man's ascending and descending footprints.No one else has been down this road to the sea this morning.At one point, I saw palm marks on the slope, which could only mean that poor McPherson had fallen on the way up.There are also small circular pits, indicating that he has knelt down more than once.At the bottom of the trail, there is a saltwater lake left by the ebb tide.McPherson once undressed by the lake because his towel lay on a rock.The towels were folded and dry, so it looked like he hadn't been in the water.As I searched among the hard pebbles, I found the prints of his espadrilles and bare feet.This shows that he is ready to go into the water, although the dry towel shows that he has not actually gone into the water.

The problem was clearly presented—arguably one of the weirdest problems I've ever encountered in my life.The person in question has been at the beach for at most a quarter of an hour.Stadhurst had followed from school, so there was no doubt about that.He went swimming and had already taken off his clothes, as evidenced by the barefoot footprints.Then he suddenly put on his messy clothes again, didn't even have time to button them - and came back without getting in the water or at least not drying off.The reason he changed his mind was that he was suddenly and cruelly whipped, tortured to such an extent that he bit his lip, and with the last of his strength he crawled out of the place and died.So who is the murderer?Although there are some small caves at the base of the cliff, the rising sun shines directly in the caves, and there is no hiding place at all.The figures in the distance were too far away, and the place where McPherson died was still separated by a saltwater lake. It was impossible for them to fly over and fly away after committing the crime.There are two or three fishing boats not too far away on the sea, so you can ask the people in the boat.But it seems that there is not much hope. There are currently several clues available for investigation, and none of them is a major suspect.

When I finally returned to the dead man, several people were already watching.Stradhurst was still there, of course, and Murdoch had just called Anderson, the village policeman.The latter was a tall, yellow-whiskered, dull, stocky Sussex type of man who often hides a sensible mind under a heavy, silent exterior.He listened in silence, taking down the main points we had said, and finally took me aside and said, "I need your advice, Mr. Holmes. Wrong, my superior Lewis will not spare me."

I advised him to get his immediate superior at once, and another doctor, and not to move anything on the scene until they arrived, with as few new footprints as possible.Taking advantage of this time, I searched the pockets of the dead man.Inside were a handkerchief, a jackknife, and a folding business card holder with a corner of paper protruding from the inside.I opened it up and handed it over to the police.Above is the woman's scribbled handwriting:

I will definitely come, please rest assured.

Maud
It appears to be a lover's date, but the time and place are unknown.The policeman put the paper back in the card holder and put it, among other things, in the pocket of the raincoat.As there were no other circumstances, I went home to breakfast after suggesting a thorough search of the base of the cliff.

An hour or two later, Stadhurst came to tell me that the body had been taken to the school, where an autopsy would be carried out.He also brought some important and definite news.As I expected, the search at the bottom of the wall turned up nothing.But he examined McPherson's desk, and found several closely related letters, which corresponded with Miss Maud Bellamy of Falworth Village.In this way we found the author of the note on his body.

"The letter was taken by the police," he explained, "and I can't get it back. But it's a serious love affair for sure. I don't see how it has anything to do with the accident, though, except that That girl has an appointment with him."

"Yes, the date will not be arranged at a swimming pool that you all often go to." I said.

"Usually McPherson always goes swimming with a few students. It was just a temporary change this morning, and those students didn't go."

"Is it really such a coincidence?"

Stadhurst frowned thoughtfully.

“Murdoch was the one who kept the students,” he said. “He insisted on algebra before breakfast. For that, he was very saddened by today’s tragedy.”

"But I heard that the relationship between the two of them is not very good."

"There was a bad period. But for a year, Murdoch and McPherson can be said to be very close. Murdoch has never been so close to anyone. You know his temperament is not very easy-going."

"So it is. I remember you telling me about the puppy incident, and the quarrel they had."

"That incident is long gone."

"Maybe leave a grudge."

"Impossible, impossible, I believe they are really good friends."

"Then we have to look into that girl. Do you know her?"

"Everyone knows her. She's a local beauty, and a real beauty, and she'll be noticed wherever she goes. I knew that McPherson was after her, but I didn't expect it to go to the extent it was written in the letter. "

"What about her family?"

"Her father's name is Tom Bellamy. He was a fisherman, but now he owns the fishing boats and swimming pool changing rooms in Volworth, and his life is quite prosperous. He and his son William jointly run the business."

"Shall we go down to Falworth and see them?"

"In what name?"

"Excuses can always be found. Anyway, the dead didn't torture themselves to death, did they? If the whip really caused the wound, someone always held the handle of the whip. In this remote place, the people he associates with is limited. If we searched everywhere, we could always find some motive, and the motive would lead to the criminal."

The village of Falworth sits in a semicircle around the bay, and the scenery around it is very charming, and it would have been a pleasant walk in the thyme-scented prairie, but this morning's tragic scene spoiled my mood.Behind the old-style hamlet, several modern houses have been built.Stadhurst led me towards one of the houses.

"It's what Bellamy calls 'Port House,' and it's this house with turrets and bluestone tiles. Not a lot for a self-made man—hey, look!"

The garden door of the villa opened, and a person came out.The tall, thin, languid figure is none other than the mathematician Murdoch. A minute later we met him on the road.

"Hello!" Stedhurst called to him.He nodded and gave us a quick look with his weird black eyes before we passed.But the principal held him back.

"What are you doing there?" the headmaster asked him.

Murdoch flushed with anger, "Sir, I am your subordinate in school, but I don't understand my obligation to report my private actions to you."

(End of this chapter)