The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 60 Memoirs (1) ([-])
silver white fronted horse

One morning, as Holmes and I were breakfasting together, he said:

"I think, Watson, I must go once."

"Go once?! Where?"

"Dartmoor, to King's Pillane."

I was not surprised to hear that.I should have wondered at the indifference of Holmes to the current discussion of a singular case all over England.All day long he frowns, bows his head in thought, walks up and down the room, smoking pipe after pipe of strong tobacco, and ignores my questions completely.The newspaper delivery man brought us various newspapers of the day, and he just flipped through them and threw them aside.Yet, notwithstanding his silence, it was perfectly clear to me that Holmes was thinking carefully.At present, there is only one problem before people, that is, the mysterious disappearance of the famous horse in the Wessex Cup Championship and the tragic death of the horse trainer, which urgently needs to be solved by Holmes' analysis and deduction.So, he suddenly decided to set out to investigate this bizarre case, which is not what I expected.

"If you don't mind, I'd love to go with you."

"My dear Watson, I am very glad that you can go with me. I do not think you will be wasting your time on this trip, for there are some peculiarities in this case which seem to suggest that it may be quite unique. I I think we'll get to Paddington just in time to catch the train, and I'll tell you more about the case on the way. You'd better take your binoculars with you."

An hour later we were sitting in a first-class carriage on the way to Exeter, Holmes's chiseled face concealed by a traveling cap with earflaps, looking through a pile of the Newspaper of the day.We were well past Reading station and he stuffed the last newspaper he read under his seat and handed me a cigarette case to smoke.

"The train is moving very fast," said Holmes, looking out of the window at his watch. "We are traveling at fifty-three and a half miles an hour."

"I didn't pay attention to the quarter-mile count," I said.

"I didn't notice either. But the poles are sixty yards apart around this railway line, so it's an easy calculation. I wonder if you've heard the news about the murder of John Straker and the disappearance of the silver white-fronted horse." thing?"

"I've seen the news reports."

"In this case, I believe that the art of reasoning should be employed in carefully ascertaining the details of the facts, rather than in finding new evidence. Conjectures, conjectures, and assumptions. The difficulty lies in the need to distinguish those indisputable facts from those fictional whitewashing words of theorists and journalists. Our responsibility is to draw conclusions based on sound evidence and determine What are the particulars of the case that need to be focused on? On Tuesday night I had telegrams from both Colonel Ross, the owner of the horse, and from Sergeant Gregory, asking me to join him in the investigation of the case."

"Tuesday night?!" I exclaimed. "It's already Thursday morning. Why didn't you leave yesterday?"

"My dear Watson, it is my fault, and I am afraid that many mistakes have happened to me, and I am not what those who know me only from your memoirs imagine. I do not, in fact, trust the famous English horse. To be missing for so long, especially in such a sparsely populated part of North Dartmoor. I was counting on every moment yesterday to hear that the horse had been found and that the man who stole it was the murderer of John Straker Who knows, as of today, they haven't made any progress except to catch the young man Fitzroy Simpson. I think it's time for me to act. However, I don't think I wasted yesterday. "

"Then you have reached a judgment?"

"At least I have learned some of the principal facts of the case. I can now set them out for you. I think the best way to make a case clear is to be able to explain it to another person. Besides, if If I don't tell you what we have now, it will be difficult for me to get your help."

I leaned back in my chair and smoked my cigar while Holmes, stooping and drawing with his elongated forefinger on the palm of his left hand, gave me a general account of the events which had led to our journey.

"The Silver Grenade," said Holmes, "is of the Somomy breed, and like his celebrated progenitor, has kept an excellent record. He is five years old, and he is always honored by his luck at the racetrack." His owner, Colonel Ross, won the first prize. Before this unfortunate incident, he was the winner of the Wessex Cup Championship, and people bet on him at three to one. He is a favorite horse for horse racing fans, and Never disappointing his fans, it is such an out-of-pocket stake that many will be hurt if the Silver Blazer is not able to race next Tuesday.

"This fact is well known at Kings Pillane, where the Colonel's stables are, and every precaution has been taken with this famous horse. John Straker, the trainer, was Colonel Ross' jockey. , and later changed to another because of his gain of weight. Straker was five years jockey and seven years horse trainer at the colonel's house, and was usually a kind and reliable honest servant. Straker had three stable boys The stables are not very large, and there are only four horses in all. A stable boy lives in the stable every night, and the other two sleep in the straw shed. All three boys are of good character. John Straker Married, and living in a cottage two hundred yards from the stables. He has no children, and lives reasonably comfortably with a maid. The place is wild, and half a mile to the north, there are several towns by the town of Tavistock. The contractor built a cottage for the sick and others who came to Dartmoor to breathe the fresh air. Two miles to the west is the town of Tavistock, and about two miles across the moors, there is a The Mapleton Stables belonged to Lord Buckwater, and the caretaker was Silas Brown. The rest of the moor was very deserted, except for a few wandering gypsies. The unfortunate incident occurred on a Monday night, and the basic situation That's it.

"This evening, as usual, the stables were locked at nine o'clock after the horses had been trained and brushed. Two of the stableboys went to the Stryker's kitchen for supper. A third stableboy, Ned Hunter stayed to watch the stables. A few minutes after nine, Edith Baxter, the maid, brought Hunter's supper to the stables. It was a plate of mutton curry. She did not bring drinks, as a rule, see the stables The man on duty could not drink other drinks. Because it was dark and he was walking through the moor, the maid carried a lamp.

"When Edith Baxter was within thirty yards of the stables, a man came out of the shadows and called to her. In the yellow light she saw that the man was dressed like a gentleman. He was dressed in a gray tweed suit, a fedora hat, and high gaiters, and he carried a heavy round cane in his hand. What impressed Edith most, however, was His face was too pale and nervous. She thought that this person must be at least 30 years old.

"'Can you tell me where this is?' he asked, 'if I hadn't seen your light, I think I should have passed the night in the wilderness.'

"'You have come to Kingspiran's stable,' said the maid.

"'Ah, really? What luck!' cried he. 'I know a stableboy who sleeps here alone every night. I suppose that's the supper you brought him? I'm sure you won't even Don't you bother to earn money for a new dress?" The man took out a folded piece of white paper from his vest pocket and said, "Be sure to give this paper to that child tonight, and you can get money for the most beautiful dress.'

"His earnestness surprised Edith, and she ran past him to the window, through which she was wont to pass her meals. The window was open, Hunter. Sitting next to the small table, Edith was about to open her mouth to tell him what had happened when the stranger approached again.

"'Good night,' said the stranger, looking in from the window, 'I have something to tell you.' The girl swore that, as he spoke, she caught a corner of the little paper he was clutching. .

"'What do you want to do here?' asked the stable boy.

"'This thing will put something in your pocket,' said the stranger, 'and you have two horses in the Wessex Cup Stakes, a Silver Blaze and a Bayard. As long as If you give me reliable information, I will not treat you badly. I heard that in the five-furlong distance horse race, Bayard can surpass the silver white-fronted horse by a hundred yards, and even you all bet on Bayard. on De, is that true?'

"'Then you're a bloody race scout!' cried the stable boy, 'and now I'll show you what we do with them in King's Pillane.' He ran and set the dog free. Come out. The girl ran home quickly, but she looked back as she ran. She saw the stranger leaning over the window to visit. However, after a minute, when Hunter ran out with the hound, The man has disappeared, and although Hunter took the dogs around the stables, he was not found."

"Wait a minute," I asked, "didn't the stableman lock the door when he ran out with the dog?"

"Excellent, Watson!" murmured my companion. "I think this point is so important that I sent a special telegram to Dartmoor yesterday to inquire about it. The stableman locked the door before leaving." It's locked. I might add that the window is too small to get through.

"Hunter waited for the two stable boys to arrive, and sent someone to report to the horse trainer, telling him what had happened. When Straker heard the report, he was very alarmed, but he didn't know what the real intention was. What. The incident disturbed him, and Mrs. Straker awoke at one o'clock in the morning to find him dressing. Straker replied to his wife's inquiries that he had missed the horses and had been unable to Falling asleep, he intended to go to the stables to see if they were all right. When Straker's wife heard the rain ticking outside the window, she begged him not to go out, but he ignored her plea, put on his raincoat and hurried out of the house.

"When Mrs. Straker awoke at seven o'clock in the morning, and found that her husband had not returned, she dressed hastily, woke the maid, and together they hurried to the stable. The stable door was wide open, and Hunter sat Sitting on the chair, he huddled into a ball, completely unconscious, the famous horse in the stable disappeared, and the horse trainer disappeared.

"They hastened to wake the two stable boys who were sleeping in the straw shed, but they slept soundly and heard nothing at night. Hunter was obviously under the influence of strong narcotics, and it was impossible to wake him at all. The stableman and the two women left Hunter to sleep there and ran out to find the missing horse and the trainer. They thought the trainer had taken the horse out for morning training for some reason, but they climbed up The small hill next to the house looked out over the surrounding wilderness, but there was no shadow of the famous horse, but they found something, and they had a premonition that something was wrong.

"A quarter of a mile from the stables, Straker's coat was exposed among the gorse bushes. In a hollow in the moors near there they found the body of the unfortunate trainer. His head smashed He was shattered, obviously by some blunt force. He also had a wound on his thigh, a long, neat gash, apparently cut by a sharp object. Straker held a handful of The knife, blood clotted to the handle, evidently he had fought an opponent. His left hand clutched a black and red silk tie which the maid had recognized as the one worn the night before by the stranger at the stable. When Te regained consciousness, he also proved that the tie belonged to the stranger. He was convinced that the stranger had drugged the mutton curry while he was standing at the window, thus depriving the stable of its keeper. As for the lost name The foal, from the marks left in the mud at the bottom of the valley, they were sure that the famous horse was present at the time of the fight. But it disappeared the next morning. Although a huge reward was offered, all the gypsies in Dartmoor were watching , but there is no news. Another point is that the stable boy's dinner contained a large amount of narcotics, while the Stryker family ate the same dish without any adverse effects.

"That is the basics of the case. I have told it with the exception of all speculation, and with as little pretense as possible. Now I will tell you what the police did in the matter.

"Inspector Gregory, who was called upon to investigate the case, was a shrewd constable. Had he had a little imagination in his powers, he would have risen in the profession. When he got to the scene, he found out found the suspect and took him into custody. It wasn't that hard to find him, since he lived in one of those cottages I just mentioned. His name appears to be Fitzroy Simpson. He was a A noble, well-educated man, who had invested large sums in the racetracks, and now earns his living as an advanceseller at the London Sports Club. Examination of his betting-book shows that he bet a total of £2 All bet on the defeat of the silver white fronted horse. After Simpson was arrested, he took the initiative to explain that he was planning to inquire about the famous Kings Pilan horse in Dartmoor, and also wanted to know about the No.[-] horse Despa Desborough was in the care of Silas Brown of the Mapleton Stables. He did not deny what happened that night, but explained that he meant no malice but simply wanted first place. After showing him the tie, his face paled for a moment, not knowing how his tie fell into the hands of the victim. His clothes were still wet, indicating that he had gone out in the rain that night, and he Simpson, on the other hand, had no scars on his body, while Sterling The blood on Lake's knife suggests that at least one of his assailants was wounded. Anyhow, that is the case. Watson, I would be most grateful if you could enlighten me."

Holmes, with his peculiar talent, presented the case with such clarity that I was fascinated by it.Although I already knew most of the situation, I still couldn't see how these things related to each other, and what these relationships meant.

"Could it be that during the fight, Strike got a brain injury and cut himself?" I suggested.

"The probability is so great that it is nine times out of ten," said Holmes. "In that case there would be no evidence in favor of the defendant."

"And," said I, "I don't know what the police think of it yet."

"I am afraid that our inferences will be contrary to their opinion," my friend returned to the subject. "As far as I know, the police believe that after Fitzroy Simpson drugged the stable boy who was guarding the stables, he used his pre-medicated A good key opened the gate of the stable, and led the silver white-fronted horse out, intending to steal the horse. Since there was no bridle, Simpson had to put this tie on the horse's mouth, lead the horse into the wilderness, and let the door Wide open. On the way, he met the trainer, or was overtaken by him, and they quarreled. Although Strike had defended himself with the knife, Simpson was unharmed, and Simpson Smashed the trainer's head with his heavy cane. Then the horse-stealer hid the horse in a concealed place, or while they were fighting, the horse ran off into the moor. This is the police My opinion on this case. Although this statement is not very reliable, other explanations are even less likely. In any case, as long as we get to the scene, I will soon find out the truth. Before that, I really do No more constructive inferences can be made."

It was evening when we reached the small town of Tavistock.Tavistock stood like a bas-relief on a shield, in the heart of the vast fields of Dartmoor, and two gentlemen were waiting for us at the station, a tall and handsome man with curly hair and beard, and a pair of pale The blue eyes are piercing.The other was short, with a trim beard, a single eyeglass, a frock coat, and tall boots with gaiters, and was alert and agile.This man was Colonel Ross, a well-known sports enthusiast.The former is Sheriff Gregory, who is well-known in the British detective industry.

"Mr. Holmes, I am glad you are here," said the colonel. "The Sheriff has done everything in his power to investigate for us, and I hope to do everything in my power to avenge poor Stryker and find my famous horse."

"Any new development?" asked Holmes.

"I'm sorry, we haven't made any progress yet," said the sheriff. "There is an open carriage outside. You must hope to arrive at the scene before dark, and we can talk about it on the road."

A few moments later we were in the comfort of our four-wheeled carriage, traveling briskly through quaint Devon.Inspector Gregory rattled off the case that filled his head.Holmes occasionally asked questions, or interjected a sentence or two.I listened with interest to the conversation of the two detectives, as Colonel Ross leaned with his arms folded, his hat tilted over his eyes.Gregory's methodically recounted views are almost the same as Holmes' prophecy on the train.

"Fitzroy Simpson has been brought to justice," Gregory said. "I personally believe that he is the murderer; at the same time, I also recognize that the evidence is not convincing and that any new developments may overturn this evidence. .”

"Then how did Strike get his knife wound?"

"We concluded that he scratched himself when he fell."

(End of this chapter)