The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 198 New Detective Case (20)
Back in the study, we find Murdoch recovered enough to sit up.He felt dizzy and convulsed with pain.He said intermittently that he didn't know what happened at all, only that he suddenly felt extreme pain all over his body, and he tried his best to get ashore.

"Here is a book," I said, "that sheds light for the first time on a problem that may never be understood. The title is Out of Doors, and it is written by the eminent naturalist JG Wood. He once came upon this This animal was nearly lethal, so he elaborated on it, using his vast knowledge. This venomous animal was no less venomous than a cobra, and caused far more pain. Let me read a little summary:
"'When swimmers see a fluffy round mass of brown mucous membrane and fibers, like a huge lion's mane and silver thread, then be very alert. This is the terrible stinging animal cyano-jellyfish.'

"Look, can this be described more clearly?

"Then he relates an experience of encountering one of these animals while swimming on the Kent seashore. He observed that the animal extended a nearly invisible filament fifty feet in length, and that anyone who touched the filament Everyone is in danger of death. Although touched at a distance, Wood almost lost his life.

"'Innumerable filaments cause red streaks on the skin, and on closer inspection they are fine spots or vesicles, and each spot is like a red-hot needle piercing the nerve.'

"He explained that the localized pain was only the slightest part of the whole unspeakable misery.

"'The pain radiated through the whole chest, and I fell as if shot. The heart stopped suddenly, followed by six or seven wild beatings, as if the heart was about to burst out of the chest.'

"He almost died, although he only touched the poison thread in the turbulent sea, not in the still limited lagoon. He said that after being poisoned, he didn't even recognize his own face. His face was very pale. , wrinkled, emaciated and disfigured. He drank brandy and swallowed a whole bottle, and seemed to survive. Mr. Inspector, I give you this book, which fully describes the tragedy of McPherson."

"And cleared my suspicions at the same time," Murdoch interrupted, with a sarcastic smile on his face, "Mr. Inspector, I do not blame you, nor do I blame you, Mr. Holmes, because your suspicions are understandable." .I feel that I cleared myself on the eve of my arrest only by sharing my poor friend's fate."

"No, Mr. Murdoch. I have already set about solving the case. If I had been to the beach earlier as planned, I might have spared you this disaster."

"But how do you know, Mr. Holmes?"

"I read a lot, and I remember all the miscellaneous knowledge in my head. The word 'lion's mane' is always in my head. I remember reading it in some strange records. You all See, those words do describe the monstrosity. I believe that when McPherson saw it, it must have been floating on the water, and these words are the only description he could come up with to remind us .”

"Well, at least I've been clarified," Murdoch said, standing up slowly, "but I have a couple of things to explain, because I know you investigated me. I did love that girl, But since she chose my friend McPherson, my only desire is to help her achieve happiness. I am willing to hide aside and be their liaison. I often send them letters. Because I am their bosom friend, because of my I hastened to report my friend's death to her because she was my nearest and dearest, lest I should be preceded by others who would inform her of the calamity in a sudden and cruel manner. She would not tell you about our relationship, is it? I'm afraid you'll hurt me by blaming me. Well, excuse me, I have to go back to school and I need to lie in bed."

Stadhurst held out his hand to him and said: "Our nerves have been overly tense for the past two days, Murdoch, please forgive the past. I hope we will understand each other in the future." After finishing speaking, the two of them were friendly. He walked out hand in hand.

The officer didn't leave. He looked at me with wide eyes and said, "Oh, you can do it! I've read about you before, but I never believed it. Hearing is believing, seeing is believing, and you really deserve your reputation!"

I shook my head. I don't bother to hear such compliments.

"I was slow at first—it was a mistake. If the body had been found in the water, I would have solved the case immediately. It was the dry towel that fooled me for a while, and poor McPherson didn't bother to dry himself. , so I thought he hadn't been in the water. Anyway, that was my mistake. Haha, Mr. Police, I used to make fun of you police department gentlemen, and now I have this joke in your hands gone."

veiled tenant
Mr. Holmes has been investigating for 23 years, and I have been his collaborator and recorder for 17 years, so I have a huge amount of information in my hands.For me, the question is always how to choose, not how to find materials.The long rows of year-by-year papers on the bookshelves, and the many delivery boxes full of material, are a repository not only for those who study crime, but even for those who study late Victorian society and official scandals. , is also a complete database.Of the latter I may say that those who have written anxious letters demanding the secrecy of their family honours, and famous ancestors, may be at ease.My friend Mr. Holmes not only has a superb ability to solve cases, but also has a noble character and a rigorous and responsible spirit.When I choose materials to publish my memoirs, we insist on a responsible attitude and will never abuse the trust placed in us by others.However, I am firmly opposed to the recent attempts to seize and destroy these documents.Who is the instigator of this incident, we already know. On behalf of Mr. Holmes, I declare that if similar acts happen again, all the secrets about a certain politician, a certain lighthouse and domesticated cormorants will be made public.At least one reader understands this.

Although I have spared no effort to describe Holmes's peculiar insight and genius of observation and analysis in my memoirs.But he didn't have the opportunity to display those instincts in every case.Sometimes he had to use great effort to pick the fruit, but sometimes the fruit fell into his arms by itself.But often the most appalling human tragedies are the cases that least allow him to show his personal talents and opportunities. Now I am going to tell about such a case.I changed the names and locations slightly, but other than that, it's a true story.

One morning--it was towards the end of [-]--I received a hastily written note from Holmes asking me to go at once.When I arrived, I saw him sitting in a room filled with cigarettes, and in the chair opposite him sat a slightly older, mother-in-law, fat landlady-type woman.

"This is Mrs. McLilow of South Brixton," my friend introduced. "Mrs. McLilow is not against smoking, Watson, and you can enjoy it without worry. Mrs. McLilow has an interesting story to tell." Well, it might go a little further, and it might be useful for you to be there to hear."

"If I can help--"

"Mrs. McLilow, if I call on Mrs. Rundle, I would like a witness to be present. Please go back and explain that to her first."

"God bless you, Mr. Holmes," said the visitor, "she is so anxious to see you that she would not mind if you took the whole parish with you."

"Then let's go early this afternoon. Before we go, we'll make sure we get the facts right. Let's recount them, and that will help Dr. Watson get the situation right. You said that Mrs. Rundle has lived in your house for seven years." , and you've only seen her face once."

"I swear to God, I'd rather not have seen it once!" said Mrs. McLilow.

"Is her face very frightening?"

"Mr. Holmes, that face is not human at all. It is very frightening. Once the milkman saw her looking at the upstairs window. The milkman was so frightened that he threw the milk pail, and the front garden was full of milk. Once I caught sight of her face, and she quickly put her veil on, and she said, 'Mrs. McLilow, now you know why I never take off my veil.'"

"Do you know her past?"

"I don't know at all."

"Did she have any letters of introduction when she first came to live?"

"No, but she is very rich. She paid a quarter's rent in advance without saying a word, and the price was not mentioned. It is rare to meet such a generous tenant. These days, a homeless person like me How can a reliable person refuse such a guest?"

"Has she given any reason for choosing your house?"

"My house is far from the main road, and it is quieter than other rental houses. Besides, I only have one tenant, and I have no family of my own. I guess she has seen other houses, and my house is her favorite. She is a People who like to be alone, so they are not afraid to spend money."

"You said she hasn't shown her face at all since she came here, except for that time. It's a strange thing, very strange. No wonder you asked for an investigation."

"I don't ask, Mr. Holmes. As far as I get the rent, I am content. There is no quieter and more convenient tenant."

"Then how could it be a problem?"

"The state of her health, Mr. Holmes. She seemed to be dying, and she had a terrible burden on her mind. Sometimes she cried: 'Help, help!' Once I heard her cry: 'You cruel beast! You are a Devil!' It was at night, but the shouting was heard all over the house, and it gave me goosebumps. I went to her the next morning. I said to her, 'Randall If you have any unspeakable burdens, ma'am, you can go to the priest, and the police, they can always help you." "Well, I don't want the police!" she said, "the pastor can't change the past. .But if someone knows what's on my mind before I die, I'll be relieved." "Well," I said, "if you don't want the regular cops, there's that guy who's in the papers as a detective. '--Excuse me, Mr. Holmes. She agreed immediately. 'Yes, that's the right man,' said she. Come on. If he won't come, say I'm the wife of Rondel of the Circus. Say so, and give him a place: Abbas Barwah.' It was she who wrote the note, Ah. Bass Barr wow. She said, 'If he's the one I know, he'll come when he sees the place.'”

"I will go," said Holmes. "Very well, Mrs. McLilow. I will consult with Dr. Watson, and we shall be at your house about three o'clock in the afternoon."

No sooner had our guest wrung out like a duck—there was no other verb to describe her manner of acting— than Sherlock Holmes sprang up and rummaged among the pile of extracts in the corner of the room.For a few minutes all that was heard was the rustling of pages, followed by a grunt of satisfaction as he seemed to have found what he needed.He was so excited that he didn't bother to get up, but sat on the floor like a strange Buddha, with his legs crossed, and there were large piles of books all around him, and one on his lap.

"The case gave me a headache at the time, Watson. Here is a marginal note to prove it. I was suspicious of the case at the time, but I couldn't do anything to solve it. You don't remember that Abbas... Is Barwa a tragedy?"

"No memory, Holmes."

"And you went with me at the time. But my personal impression is not deep. Because there is no clear conclusion, and the person involved did not ask me for help. Would you like to see the record?"

"Can you tell me something?"

"That's easy. Maybe you'll remember it when I tell you. Rundle is a household name. He was a rival of Warmwell and Sanger, who was the biggest circus troupe in those days." .However, at the time of the accident, Rundall had become a drunkard, himself and his circus were going downhill. It happened when his group was sleeping overnight in Abbas Barwa, a small village in Berkshire It was a tragedy. They were on their way to Wimbledon, overland, and they were just bivouacing, not performing, as the village was too small to be worth performing.

"They had a majestic North African lion called King Sahara. It was the custom of Rondel and his wife to perform in a cage. Here's a picture of the show in action, and Rundell was a massive, boar-type man. , and his wife was a very respectable woman. At the post-mortem it was sworn that the lion had shown signs of danger, but that the men, always despised by their daily contact, did not heed these signs.

"Usually Rondel or his wife feed the lions at night. Sometimes alone, sometimes with two, but never let others feed, because they think that as long as they are feeders, the lions will treat them as benefactors." Do them no harm. The two of them went together that night seven years ago, but a tragedy occurred, the details of which have never been ascertained.

"At midnight, the whole circus was awakened by the lion's roar and the woman's screams. The coachmen and workers ran out from their respective tents with lanterns. When they held up the lights, they saw a terrible scene. Del was lying on his stomach about ten meters away from the cage, with the back of his head sunken inward, and there were deep paw prints on it. The cage door had been opened, and just outside the door, Mrs. Rundle was lying on her back, and the lion squatted on her and roared. .Her face was torn into a mess, and no one expected her to survive. Led by the Hercules Leonardo and the Clown Griggs, several circus performers drove the lion away with long poles, and it jumped back The cage. The door was shut immediately. But how the lion got out is a mystery. The general guess is that the two men intended to enter the cage, but as soon as the door was opened the lion jumped out and threw them down. The only instructive in the evidence The point is that the woman in her coma after being carried back to the caravan where she spent the night kept shouting 'Cowards! Cowards!' She did not recover enough to testify until six months later, but the autopsy had already been carried out as usual, of course. The verdict is accidental death."

"Is there any doubt?" I said.

"There were doubts. There were a few doubts raised by a young Sergeant named Edmund of the Berkshire Constabulary at the time. He was sent to Allahabad. He visited me once or twice, and we Talked about the case while smoking a cigarette. That's how I learned about it."

"He's a thin, yellow-haired young man, isn't he?"

"Exactly. I knew you'd remember."

"What links does he think are worth considering?"

"Both he and I were troubled. Because it was impossible to recreate the full sequence of events. From the lion's point of view, he was released. What did he do? He jumped five or six steps forward, and he jumped in front of Rondel. Lang Dell turned and ran away, and the lion's paw slapped him on the back of the head. But why didn't the lion run away now? Why did it turn and attack Mrs. Rundle instead? She was at the cage, and the lion threw her down , bit her face. She screamed in a coma as if her husband had betrayed her and failed to save her. But at that time he was already killed by a lion, how could he step forward to help her? You see the flaw right?"

"Yes."

"One more thing. I remember. There is evidence that at the same time as the lion's roar and the woman's cry, there was a man's horrible cry."

"Of course it's Rondel."

"If his skull had been recessed, it would have been difficult to scream. At least two witnesses spoke of men shouting mixed with women's screams."

"I think the whole camp was shouting by then. As for the other doubts, I have an explanation."

"Tell me."

"The two of them were together, and when the lion came out, they were ten meters away from the cage. The woman wanted to rush into the cage and close the door, which was her only refuge. She ran towards the cage and was just about to reach the door when the lion Jumped over and threw her down. She hated her husband turning and running away provoking the lion, making it even more rampant, and perhaps scaring it off if they confronted it head-on. So she yelled 'Coward!'"

"The reasoning is very good, Watson! But there is a little hole."

"What's the loophole?"

"If both of them are ten meters away, how did the lion get out?"

"Could it be released by the enemy?"

"Then why did the lion usually play with them and perform tricks with them in the cage, but this time it pounced on them?"

"Perhaps the enemy deliberately provoked the lion."

Holmes fell into deep thought, and remained silent for some minutes.

"There is one thing in favor of your theory, Watson. Rundle had many enemies. Edmund told me that he went berserk after drinking. He was a big thug, who swore and smoked everywhere he met. I think, Mrs. Rundle, as the visitor mentioned, is dreaming of her dead relatives when she calls out the devil at night. But in any case, our speculation is useless until we have the facts. Well, Watson, there is cold pheasant in the cupboard. , and a bottle of white burgundy. Let's fill our stomachs before visiting."

When our carriage pulled up in front of Mrs. Merrilow's house, we saw her fat body blocking the door, a simple and secluded house.It was evident that her chief intention was the fear of losing a valuable lodger, and she enjoined us, before taking us up, to say or do anything that would cause her to lose him.We obliged her, followed her up a straight staircase with ragged carpets, and were ushered into the room of the mysterious lodger.

(End of this chapter)