The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 42 Four Signatures (26)
A tall carriage drove over from the darkness, and the chandeliers on both sides of the car emitted two yellow lights."Would you like to come with me now, Watson?" said Holmes.

"If you can use me."

"Ah, a confidant is like a companion, you can always help me. In Shanyuan, my room has two beds, and we can live together."

"Cedar Garden?"

"Yes, that's Mr. St. Clair's house. I've lived there since I started the case."

"So, where?"

"In Kent, near Lee, seven miles away."

"But I don't know anything about the case you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. You'll know all about it in a moment. Get in!" Turning to the coachman again, he said, "Well, John, I won't trouble you. Here's a half-crown for you. To-morrow." Come and see me at eleven. Goodbye."

He lashed the horse with the whip, and the carriage started galloping, and we drove through the dirt road, and the road behind gradually widened, and we crossed a bridge under which the water was very dirty.Apart from the heaps of bricks and plaster on the street, the silence was occasionally broken by the heavy footsteps of patrolmen and the shouts of alcoholics.A bunch of scattered clouds drifted across the sky, and a few stars shone brightly in the gaps in the clouds.Holmes drove in silence, his head bowed to his chest, as if in deep thought.Sitting next to him, I wondered what it was about this new case that had cost him so much energy, but I dared not ask him for fear of interrupting his thoughts.We drove a few miles to the suburbs.Then he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit his pipe with a look of triumph.

He said: "You have the power of silence, Watson, which makes you a rare companion. It is very important to me, however, to have someone to talk to, because my own ideas may not always please everyone. I don't know what to say to that lovely young woman when she greets me at the door."

"I'm afraid you've forgotten that I don't know anything about it."

"Well, I just had time to tell you the facts of the case before we get there. It looks simple, but I'm a little confused. There are clues, but I have no clue. Now I put The case will be told briefly to you. Perhaps, Watson, you can give me some fresh ideas."

"Then, tell me."

"A few years ago, in May 37 to be more exact, a gentleman called Neville St. Clair came to Leetown suddenly. The man was very rich. He is very beautiful and lives comfortably. He is also very friendly with his neighbors. In 88 he married the daughter of a local wine merchant, and now he has two children. He has no occupation, but in several There are shares in the company. He goes into the city every morning as a rule, and takes the car home from Cannon Street at 220:35 in the evening. Mr. St. Clair is [-] years old, has no bad habits, is a conscientious husband and a loving father. Everyone who knows him thinks he is a good man. I would like to add that I have checked his debts, which are £[-] ten shillings, but he has £[-] in the bank. Therefore, his financial aspects are not a problem at all. One Monday, Mr. St. Clair went into town earlier than usual, promising to bring back a box of blocks for the children when he went out. That day, shortly after his departure, his wife received a telegram that she had been The waiting parcel has arrived, tell her to pick it up at the Aberdeen Transport Company office. If you are familiar with London, Watson, you should know that the Aberdeen Company is on Fresno Street, which is on Sundan Road. A side road, that's where you'll meet me tonight. Mrs. St. Clair went into town after lunch, did some shopping at the store, and went to the Aberdeen corporate office to pick up the package. At four thirty-five, she Go to the station via the Upper Sandin Road. Do you understand?"

"I heard it very clearly."

"It was a very hot Monday, you remember, and Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, looking about for a cab. Just as she was passing the Upper Sandin Road, she heard someone call her, and she went up Look, but saw her husband looking down at her from the window on the second floor, and waving at her. The window was open, and she saw his pale face clearly, and heard her say that he looked terrible at that time, He waved to her desperately, and suddenly disappeared again, as if there was a great force behind him pulling him. She could see clearly that the clothes he wore when he entered the city were still on him, but the clothes on his neck No collar, no cravat. She figured some accident must have happened, and hurried down the steps—for the house is in the same smokehouse where you saw me tonight—when she was trying to cross the house On the second floor, at the top of the stairs, she met the thug Lusger, the man I told you about earlier. He pushed her into the street with his assistant. She was full of doubts and fears, and hurried to the On the street, fortunately, on Fresno Street, she met an inspector and some policemen, and she told them what had happened, and the inspector and two policemen followed her to the room where Mr. St. Clair had been staying. But there was no sign of his presence in that room. There was no one else in the place except a hideous, ragged cripple. Both he and Rusger swore that the former No one has been in the house. The inspector can't determine what's going on, and can't search without evidence. He almost thinks that Mrs. St. Clair has misunderstood the person. At this moment, Mrs. St. Clair suddenly yelled and rushed to the house. In front of a small wooden box on the table, with the lid opened, there are children's building blocks inside. This is the toy that Mr. St. Clair promised to bring back to the children. After this thing was found, the lame man showed panic, which made the police Realizing the seriousness of the situation, the various rooms were examined with great care. The front room was a simply furnished living room leading to the rear bedroom, the window of which looked out onto the back of a pier. The pier and bedroom Between the windows of the house was a narrow channel, dry at low tide, and with no less than four feet of water at high tide. The bedroom window was wide and opened from below. On examination, some blood was found above the frame a few drops on the floor of the bedroom. Mr. St. Clair's full suit was again found behind the curtain in the front room, except for the jacket. His boots, socks, hat and watch were all there, no evidence of his clothes. There were signs of a struggle, and no clue as to where Mr. St. Clair was. He had evidently gone out through the window, as no other exit had been found. Judging by the blood on the window frame, he could not have swum to escape, as this tragic event It was at the height of the tide. From this point of view, the two people in the house must have something to do with the case. That Lusger was a notorious villain, but Mrs. St. Clair said that when her husband appeared at the window In a few seconds he was at the stairs, an accomplice at best. He argued that neither he nor the upstairs tenant, Hugh Boone, knew anything about the matter. Nor did he know why the missing gentleman's clothes will be in that house.As for the lame man on the second floor, he must have been the last to see Mr. St. Clair.His name is Hugh Boone.He had an ugly face and was known to anyone who frequented Old London.He made a living by begging, and in order to avoid police control, he pretended to be a peddler in the candle and candle business.Not far from Needlework Street, in a corner on the left, is where he sits cross-legged every day.He put the pitiful few boxes of matches on his lap.Passers-by, seeing him in pity, gave him some coins and put them in a greasy fur hat in front of him.I have watched him several times and think his income is really good.You've seen him too, and you know he has a special look.No one who walked by him did not look at him.A shaggy head of red hair, a large hideous scar on his pale face, an upper lip that flared out when retracted, a pug-dog jaw, and deep-set black eyes that seemed out of place with his red hair.These all show that he is different from other beggars.And he likes to talk, no matter what rags passers-by give him, he has something to say.This man is the subject of our study, for he was the tenant of the den, and was the last man to have seen Mr. St. Clair. "

I said: "But how can a lame man stand alone against a strong man? He walks with a limp, but is otherwise strong and powerful. You have medical experience, Watson, and you know that one foot is not Well, it's often compensated by extra robustness in other limbs."

"Please continue to talk about this matter."

"Mrs. St. Clair was horrified to see blood on the window frame, and the police took her home in a carriage, as she was of no use to the case there either. Inspector Patton, who was in charge of the case, had carefully scoured the front and back of the house. Checked, but still no breakthrough in the case. They made a mistake in not arresting Hugh Boone at once, so that he would have time to conspire with Rusger. But the mistake was quickly remedied. He has been arrested by the police, but no incriminating evidence has been found. It is true that there is blood on the sleeve of his right hand, but he said that the nail on the fourth finger of his left hand was cut with a knife, and the blood came from there. He also said that he had stood at the window when his finger was wounded, and that the blood was his. But he denied having seen Mr. St. Clair, and he was as clueless as the police about the clothes found in his room. I know. Mrs. St. Clair once said that she did see her husband at the window, for which he said she was mad or dreaming. Now Hugh Boone is in the police station. The police are still on the second floor St. Clair's coat, but not himself. Guess what they found in the pocket?"

"I can't guess."

"I don't think you'd guess either. The two pockets of the coat were full of pennies and halfpenny. There were 420 pennies and 270 halfpenny. No wonder it wasn't swept away by the tide. But the human body is another matter." .The low tide between the pier and the house, the water was strong. It is likely that people were washed into the river, and this heavy clothing was left behind."

"But I know all his other clothes are in that room. Is he only wearing a coat?"

"No, Watson, there are other possibilities for the matter. Suppose Hugh Boone pushed St. Clair out of the window, but was not seen. What would he do next? I think he would destroy the leakers. He grabbed the clothes and threw them out of the window. But he was afraid that the clothes would float and not sink, so he wanted to put something heavy in his pocket and let the clothes sink to the bottom of the river. But he suddenly heard that Mrs. St. Clair wanted to go to the bottom of the river. Louer and Rusger were noisy. Time was running out, so he rushed to the place where he kept the money he got from begging, took out the penny, put it in his pocket, and threw his coat. He wanted to use the same He could dispose of other clothes in the same way, but he heard footsteps downstairs, and he had just closed the window when the police came upstairs."

"It seems quite likely to be so."

"Let us assume that. As I have said, Hugh Boone is in the police station, but there is no evidence against him. He is known to be a beggar, and seems to have lived a clean life. Now the case The question that needs to be resolved is what was Neville St Clair doing in the Smokehouse? What happened to him there? Where is he now? How does his disappearance relate to Hugh Boone? In my experience, no Which case is like this one, which is easy at first but becomes more and more difficult later on.”

While Holmes related this curious case, our carriage had driven through the suburbs, leaving the tall houses behind.Then the carriage gradually entered the village.By the time he finished, we were passing between two villages, and some faint lights were coming from the windows.

"We are now on the outskirts of Lee," said Holmes. "Though our journey is short, we pass through three counties, starting from Middlesex, passing the corner of Surrey, and at last reaching Kent. Seeing the woods over there Is there a light in the house? That is Cedar Garden. By that light sits a worried woman, whose keen ears must have heard the clatter of our horses' hooves."

"Then why don't you take the case in Baker Street?" I asked.

"Because there are many things to investigate here. Mrs. St. Clair kindly gave me two rooms. You can rest assured that she will welcome you warmly. I am afraid to see her husband until I have news." She. Here we are."

Our carriage stopped in front of a large villa, when a coachman ran over to hold the horse's head.Holmes and I jumped out of the car and walked up the gravel path leading to the villa.As we approached, the door opened and a young, beautiful woman stood in the doorway.She was dressed in light gauze, with pink sheer fluffy tulle trims around the neckline and cuffs.Her body was slightly bent, she looked at us with longing eyes, her lips were slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something.

She said, "How is it?" Seeing the two of us, she was hopeful at first, but when my partner shook his head, she returned to her sad face."Any good news?" she asked.

"No," said Holmes.

"Any bad news?"

"nor."

"Thank God! Please come in, you must have worked hard all day."

Holmes introduced to her: "This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of great help to me in many cases. I am very glad to have him here to investigate with me."

She shook my hand warmly, and said, "I am very glad to see you. I hope you will understand that I have not been treated well because of the unfortunate thing that has happened to me."

I said: "My dear lady, Holmes and I are old friends, and even if we are not, you need not be polite to me. I shall be glad if I can be of any help to you or my old friend."

We walked into the brightly lit dining room where food was already set on the table.Mrs. St. Clare said: "Mr. Holmes, I would like to ask you a direct question or two, and I hope you will answer me truthfully."

"Certainly," said Holmes.

"You don't have to worry about my feelings, I won't be hysterical or faint. I just want to hear your honest opinion."

"what do you wish to ask?"

"Do you think Neville is alive?"

Holmes seemed perplexed by the question.Mrs. St. Clair stood on the carpet, fixed her eyes on Holmes sitting in the rocking chair, and repeated: "Please tell the truth."

"So, to be honest, I don't think so," he said.

"You think he's dead?"

"I think so."

"Murdered?"

"I'm not sure, maybe."

"What day was he killed?"

"Monday."

"Then, Mr. Holmes, I have received a letter from him today. What is the matter?"

Holmes suddenly jumped up from his chair as if he had been electrocuted, and exclaimed, "What?!"

She stood smiling, holding a piece of paper, and said, "Yes, today."

"Can I see it?" he asked.

"of course can."

He eagerly took the paper, laid it flat on the table, moved the lamp over, and looked at it carefully.I got out of my chair, looked over his shoulder, and stared at the paper.The envelope was rough paper, postmarked Gravesend, and was dated today, or yesterday, as it was past midnight.

Holmes murmured: "Madam, the handwriting on this envelope is scribbled. It must not be your husband's handwriting."

"Yes, but he wrote the letter inside."

"I think the person who wrote the letter must have asked someone else to know the address here."

"Why do you say that?"

"You can see that the name is written in black ink. The ink in other places is gray, which means that it has been absorbed by absorbent paper. If the name and address are written together and then blotted together, the ink should be the same color. This The man wrote the name first, and then the address after a while, obviously because he was not familiar with the address. Of course, this is a small thing, but the little things are often the key to the matter. Let us now look at the letter Right. Haha, there is something attached here!"

"Yes, a ring, his signet ring."

"Are you sure it's your husband's handwriting?"

"It's a type of his handwriting."

"A sort of?"

"If he writes in a hurry, it's not the same handwriting as usual, but I can recognize it."

The letter read:

My dear, don't panic and be afraid, all is well.But there was one big mistake that took some time to make up.Please wait.

Neville

"It was written in pencil on a little octavo-page," said Holmes, "for there is no water mark on the paper. Why, this letter is from Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. The seal of the envelope has been sucked by a tobacco chewer. Ma'am, are you sure this is your husband's handwriting?"

"I'm sure it's Neville's handwriting."

"The letter was posted from Gravesend today. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds have lifted, but I dare not say that the danger is over."

"Mr. Holmes, but he must be alive."

"If the handwriting is not forged, and the purpose is to lead us astray, your statement is certainly reasonable. As for the ring, which proves nothing, it may have been taken from his hand."

"No, no, it was really written by him."

"Very well," said Holmes. "But it may have been written on Monday and posted today."

"It's also possible."

"If that's the case, I'm afraid there have been a lot of changes during this time."

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, don't pour cold water on me. I know he will be all right. I have a heart with him, and I shall know if any misfortune happens to him. On Monday he cut his head in his bedroom. I was in the dining room, but I felt something was wrong, so I ran upstairs immediately, and this little accident happened. You think I have a sense of such small things. If he really died, I would How could there be no reaction?"

(End of this chapter)