The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 197 New Detective Case (19)
Strayhurst, who would have been a patient man, but whose nerves had grown irritated after the stress of the day, heard that.He couldn't control his temper at all.

"Mr. Murdoch, your answer is pure presumptuousness."

"Your own question falls into the same category."

"You have shown such insolence time and time again. I cannot stand it any longer. Please find another employment as soon as possible!"

"I already want to go. Today I lost the only person who made me want to stay in your school."

With that, he strode away, with Stadhurst glaring at him resentfully. "Have you ever seen such an outrageous person?" he shouted angrily.

What impresses me most is that Murdoch took the first opportunity to get him out of the crime scene.At this moment a vague doubt began to form in my mind.Perhaps a visit to Bellamy's home would shed more light on this matter.Strayhurst calmed his anger and pulled himself together, and we entered the house together.

Mr. Bellamy was a middle-aged man with a big red beard.He seemed to be angry, and soon his face turned red.

"No, sir, I don't want to know the details. My son," he pointed to a strong, sullen young man in the corner of the room, "and I both consider Mr. McPherson's courtship of Maud an insult. Marriage, sir, has never been proposed, but there are frequent correspondences, appointments, and a host of other practices we disapprove of. She has no mother, and we are her only guardians. We are determined—"

At this time the lady came in, and he didn't continue.There is no denying that she is indeed a radiant and beautiful woman.This is very disproportionate to her growing up in such an environment and such a family.For me, women have never been an attraction, because my mind always controls emotions, but when I see her pretty face and moist skin, I believe that any young man will be in front of her. be her captive.When she came in, she stood in front of Stadhurst with wide, nervous eyes.

"I already know that Fitzroy is dead," she said, "I just ask the truth to be told."

"It was the gentleman who just left who gave us the news," explained her father.

"This matter has nothing to do with my sister, please don't pester her!" her brother roared.

The sister gave him a hard look. "This is my business, William. Please let me handle this myself. From the looks of it, someone has committed a crime. If I can help you find the murderer, it is The tiniest sympathy I can do for the dead."

She listened to my companion briefly describe the situation.Her calm and attentive look made me feel that she not only has special beauty, but also has a strong character.Maud Bellamy will always be in my memory as a perfect and outstanding woman.She seemed to have recognized me, for she said to me: "Mr. Holmes, I implore you to find out and bring to justice the murderers. Whoever they may be, I will give you my full support." It seemed to me that she As she spoke, she glanced defiantly at her father and brother.

"Thank you," I said, "I always trust a woman's instincts in these matters. When you said 'they', do you think there was more than one person involved?"

"Because I know Mr. McPherson very well. He is a brave and strong man, and he cannot be defeated by himself."

"Can I speak to you alone?"

"Maud," cried her father angrily, "don't get yourself involved in this."

She looked at me helplessly, "What can I do?"

"Since your father won't allow you to talk to me alone, let's talk here and take the opportunity to let everyone discuss it together," I said. "Anyway, this matter is no longer a secret, and the whole society will know about the case." Then I spoke of the note found in the pocket of the deceased.

"The note must be published at the autopsy. Could you explain something?"

"There is nothing to keep secret," she answered. "We were engaged. The reason why it was not announced was out of concern for Fitzroy's succession. His old and dying uncle claimed that if Fitzroy To disinherit Fitzroy by not marrying as he wished. There is no other reason."

"You should have told us earlier," growled Mr. Bellamy.

"Dad, if you showed any sympathy, I would have told you."

"I don't approve of my daughter dealing with people of social status."

"It's your prejudice against him that keeps us from telling you. As for that appointment—" She took a crumpled note from her pocket, "I wrote this note on him. reply."

Dear:
Old place on the beach at sunset on Tuesday.This is the only time I can get away.

FM
"Tuesday is today. I was supposed to see him tonight."

I flipped over to read the note, "This didn't come in the mail. How did you get it?"

"I don't want to answer this question. It really has nothing to do with the case you are investigating. I promise to answer all relevant questions truthfully."

She did, but none of the situations reported were of much value.She doesn't think her fiancé has hidden enemies, but admits she has several ardent suitors.

"Can I ask you, is Mr Murdoch one of them?"

She blushed and looked flustered.

"There was a period when I thought he was. But when he found out about Fitzroy's relationship with me, he quit."

This incident deepened my suspicions about this eccentric man, and Stadhurst agreed with me.So when I suggested a secret search of Murdoch's room, Stadhurst readily agreed and offered to undertake the search.So when we came back from Harbor Heights we felt we had at least found a thread in the mess.

A week has passed.Since no new clues were found, the trial of the case had to be suspended to seek new evidence.A cautious inquiry of his subordinates, and a brief inspection of his room, by Stadhurst were inconclusive.I personally checked the whole scene again, and there is no new conclusion.The reader will see that never in our investigative record has I been so powerless as this one.Not even my imagination could conceive a solution.Then came the dog incident.

That's what my steward heard first from that wonderful radio by which people gather country news.

"Sir, bad news, Mr. McPherson's dog," she said suddenly one night.

Originally, I didn't talk to her about these frivolous topics, but McPherson's name caught my attention.

"What happened to McPherson's dog?"

"Dead, sir, of grief for his master."

"Who told you that?"

"Everybody's talking about it. The dog was so excited that he hadn't eaten for a week. Two boys at the Gable School found him dead today--and on the seashore, where his master died."

"In that place", these words are very prominent in my memory.I wondered suddenly, this must be an important question.The dog is dead, which is also in line with the kind and loyal nature of the dog.But how could they die in the same place?Why is this deserted seaside dangerous for dogs?Is it also a victim of the enemy?Could it be... yes, the feeling is still vague, but an idea has formed in my mind.I hurried to the school at once, and found Mr. Stadhurst.At my request, he sent for the two students who had discovered the dog, Sudbury and Blunt.

"Yes, the dog is lying on the edge of the lake," said a student. "It must have followed the master's tracks."

I later went to see the faithful puppy, the Airedale Spaniel, lying on a mat in the hall.The corpse was stiff, with protruding eyes, spasms of limbs, and signs of pain everywhere.

After I got out of school, I went straight to the lagoon, and I wanted to do some more field research.The sun had gone down, and the shadows of the cliffs hung over the lake, which gleamed dimly like a sheet of lead.There is no one here, only two waterfowls are circling and singing in the sky.In the fading light, I could just make out the dog's tracks in the sand, around the rock where his master had put the towel.The twilight was getting darker, and I stood there thinking for a long time, with a lot of thoughts in my mind.Anyone has experienced that nightmarish rumination where you know what you're searching for is the key thing, and you know it's in your head, but you just can't think it out.Such was the state of my mind that night I stood alone in that place of death.Finally, I turned and walked slowly home.

When I got to the top of the trail, I suddenly had a flash of inspiration, and I suddenly remembered the thing I had been thinking about.As the reader knows, Watson has repeatedly described me as a man who has in his head a great deal of unscientific knowledge, which, though not scientifically systematic, is useful to my business.My mind is like a storeroom filled with packages of all kinds, so numerous that I myself have only a vague notion of them.Now I have found a breakthrough, even of great importance to the case, which is unbelievably grotesque, but always possible.I'm going to do a thorough experiment to confirm my guess.

As soon as I got home, I plunged into the library in the attic. After rummaging for an hour, I came out with a brown book with silver letters in it.I anxiously found the chapter I vaguely remembered.Sure enough, that was a far-fetched and unlikely idea, but I had to find out that it was, or I couldn't rest easy.I slept extremely late, eagerly anticipating tomorrow's experiment.

But my experimental plans have encountered annoying interruptions.I had a hasty breakfast and was just getting up to go to the sea when Inspector Buddle of Sussex Police arrived.It was a calm, steady man with slow, thoughtful eyes, who looked at me with puzzled eyes and said, "Sir, I know you have a lot of experience in cases. I'm here today to ask you for advice. McPherson The case really bothers me. I don't know if I should arrest him."

"Do you mean Mr Murdoch?"

"Yes. After thinking about it, there is indeed no one else. In this remote place, we have narrowed the circle of suspicious characters to an extremely small size. If not him, who else?"

"What evidence do you have against him?"

His route of gathering information was the same as I had originally imagined.The first is Murdoch's character and mysterious behavior, his occasional tantrums such as in the puppy incident, and the fact that he has had fights with McPherson in the past, and the fact that he may resent McPherson's treatment of him. Miss Bellamy's quest.He has all my old points, but nothing new, except that Murdoch seems to be getting ready to go.

"With all this evidence against him, where would I be if I let him go?"

The stout and dull officer was indeed troubled.

"Consider it," I said, "that there are some important holes in your reasoning. First, he was lecturing at school on the morning of the accident. A few minutes after McPherson's Lu walked to meet us. Secondly, don’t forget that he couldn’t have killed someone as strong as him by himself. Finally, there is also a question of what kind of instrument was used in the attack.”

"What else but a soft whip?"

"Have you carefully observed the wound?"

"I saw it, and so did the doctor."

"But I looked closely at the wound with a magnifying glass. There was something special about it."

"What is it, Mr. Holmes?"

I went to the desk and pulled out an enlarged photo. "That's how I handle cases like this," I explained.

"Mr. Holmes, you are indeed thorough."

"That's my style of case, otherwise I wouldn't be a detective. Let's study this scar around the right shoulder. Do you see anything special?"

"I can't see it."

"Apparently the scar isn't evenly deep. A spot of blood here, a spot of blood there. So is a scar here. What do you say it means?"

"I can't. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure at the moment. I may be able to give a more definite answer soon. As long as the means of committing the crime are identified, it will not be difficult to find the murderer."

"I have a funny analogy," said the officer, "if you put a red-hot net on your back, the spots of blood will show where the wires cross."

"That's a nice analogy. Or shall we say more properly, one of those nine thongs with many hard bumps?"

"Exactly, Mr. Holmes, you guessed right."

"But it could have been caused by something quite different, Mr. Bardell. In any case, the evidence for your arrest is weak. Also, the dying words of the deceased—'lion's mane.'"

"I wondered if 'Lion' was pronounced like 'Ian'--"

"I've thought about it too. But the second word doesn't look like 'Murdoch' at all. He screeches it, and I'm sure it's 'lion's mane.'"

"Have you any other ideas, Mr. Holmes?"

"A little. But I don't intend to discuss it until I have more solid evidence."

"Then when will the evidence be found?"

"In an hour—maybe it won't work."

The officer stroked his chin and looked at me suspiciously.

"I wish I could understand what was going on in your head, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps it was the fishing boats."

"No, those ships are too far away."

"Well, is it Bellamy and his burly son? They don't like McPherson at all. Are they going to give him a break?"

"No, I won't say anything until I'm ready," I said with a smile. "Mr. Inspector, let's split up and if you come here at noon—"

Before I finished speaking, another accident happened, but this actually accelerated the process of solving the case.

The door to my outer room was flung open, and there was a sound of tumbling footsteps in the corridor, and Ian Murdoch staggered in, pale, loose hair, disheveled, clutching The table barely stood upright on the ground. "Brandy! Bring the brandy!" he gasped, and then fell back on the sofa with a groan.

He is not alone.Behind him came Stadhurst, hatless and almost as disheveled as Murdoch.

"Bring the brandy!" he cried too. "He's dying. I brought him here as hard as I could, and he fainted twice on the way."

After drinking half a glass of spirits, a wonderful change occurred.Supporting himself on one hand, Murdoch lifted himself up and threw off his jacket. "Quick, bring oil, morphine, morphine!" he shouted, "anything will do, as long as it relieves the pain. Come on, this is unbearable pain!"

Seeing the wound on his back, the officer and I cried out in unison.The man's shoulders were criss-crossed with the same red, swollen web of welts as McPherson's fatal wounds.

The pain was obviously terrible, and it was by no means a local symptom, for his breathing stopped from time to time, his face turned blue, he clutched his chest with his hands and panted, and large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.He could die at any moment.Brandy was repeatedly poured down upon him, each revived him.The wound was coated with cotton dipped in vegetable oil, which seemed to ease his pain.At last his head fell heavily on the mat and he fell into a heavy sleep.

It was impossible to ask him, and as soon as the situation had settled, Stadhurst said to me: "My God! What is the matter, Holmes, what is the matter?"

"Where did you find him?"

"On the waterfront. Right where McPherson died. If his heart was as weak as McPherson's, he would have died. Twice on the way I thought he was going to die. Too far to school, so You are here now."

"Did you see him on the beach?"

"I was walking on the precipice path when I heard his cry. He was standing by the water, swaying like a drunken man. I ran down at once, dressed him, and helped him up. Ah, Holmes Well, for God's sake, please do something about this side, it's just uninhabitable. Is there nothing you can do about your reputation?"

"I think I can do it anyway, Stighurst. Come with me! And you, Sergeant, come! I'll see if I can catch the murderer."

Leaving the comatose patient in the care of the steward, the three of us came to the deadly lagoon.There is a small pile of towels and clothes on the stone.I walked slowly around the water's edge, and the two followed me in turn.The lake is shallow for the most part, but is four or five feet deep below the cliff where the shore bends in.This is the natural place for swimmers, where the green waves are clear and crystal clear.There was a row of stones at the base of the cliff, and I walked along them to peer into the depths of the water below.In the deepest and stillest place of the water, my eyes finally found what I was looking for, and I cried out in triumph.

"Cyan jellyfish!" I yelled, "Cyan jellyfish! Come see Lion's Mane!"

The strange thing really looked like a tuft of hair torn from a lion's mane.It was on a reef three feet below the water, a monstrous drifting creature with many silvery streaks beneath tufts of yellow hair.It moves slowly and heavily.

"This murderous fellow must be killed!" I cried. "Stayhurst, help me to finish this murderer!"

There was a big rock just above the reef, we pushed hard, and it fell into the water with a splash.After the water waves cleared up, we saw that the boulder was pressing on the reef, and the yellow mucous membrane was exposed on the side, which indicated that the jellyfish was crushed below.A thick, oily mucus squeezed out from under the stone, stained the water, and slowly rose to the surface.

"Hey, this thing has me stumped!" cried the Inspector. "What the hell is this, Mr. Holmes? I grew up around here, but I've never seen anything like it. It's not Sussex." Local product."

"Better without it," said I, "perhaps the South-West has brought it. Come home with me, gentlemen, and I will read to you the dreadful experience of a man who never forgot his peril at sea. "

(End of this chapter)