The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 72 Memoirs (1) ([-])
Reigate's Mystery

In the spring of [-] my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes had not yet recovered from the exhaustion of his body from overwork.The memory of the Holland-Sumatra Company and Baron Maupertuiz's colossal plans was still fresh.Since these cases are closely related to politics and economy, it is inconvenient to record them in my series of memoirs.But, in another sense, the complex and unique nature of those two cases allowed Holmes to confirm the importance of a new method of combat, one that he had employed in numerous ways throughout his life in the fight against crime. One of.

Consulting my notes, I see that on the fourteenth of April I had received a telegram from Lyons.I was informed by telegram that Holmes had fallen ill at the Durand Hotel.In less than 24 hours, I rushed to his room and was relieved to find that his symptoms were not serious.Under the exhaustion of more than two months of investigation, his steel-like physique inevitably collapsed.During this time he worked at least fifteen hours a day, and he told me that on one occasion he worked day and night for five days.Nor could the joy of success revive him after such a terrible toil.While his name was well known in Europe, and congratulatory telegrams from all over the world piled up in his house, I found Holmes still suffering and depressed.The news came that the policemen of the three countries had failed, but he had succeeded, and he had completely thwarted the tricks of Europe's most accomplished fraudsters.Even so, it couldn't cheer him up from his exhaustion.

Three days later we returned to Baker Street together.My friend would obviously be better off in a different environment, and the idea of ​​spending a week in the country in this beautiful spring appealed to me, too.In Afghanistan I treated my old friend Colonel Haight.He now has a house near Reigate in Surrey, and I am often invited to visit him there.Hayter recently said that he would happily entertain my friends if they would go with me.I said this in a roundabout way, and when Holmes heard that the master was a bachelor, and that he was quite free to move about, he agreed to my suggestion.A week after returning from Lyon, we came to Hayter's residence.Hayter, a hearty old soldier with a lot of experience, soon found that he and Holmes got along very well, which was not beyond my expectation.

We were sitting in the colonel's gun-room after dinner on the day of our arrival, Holmes stretched out on the sofa, while Hayter and I were looking at his little armory where the oriental arms were stored.

"By the way," said the colonel suddenly, "I want to take a pistol from here and take me upstairs in case of an alarm."

"Alarm?!" I said.

"Yes, we've had a lot of trouble lately in our part of the country. Old Acton is a rich gentry in the country. Someone broke into his house last Monday. He didn't suffer much, But those guys are still getting away with it."

"Is there no clue?" asked Holmes, looking at the Colonel.

"There are no clues yet. It is a trivial matter, a small crime in our village, and it will not come to your attention, Mr. Holmes, if you have solved a huge international case."

Holmes waved him away from his compliments, but smiled to show that he was well served by the compliments.

"Anything important?"

"I don't think so. The burglar found nothing, despite his laborious searches in the library. The whole library was turned upside down, drawers were opened, and books were thrown all over the place. Only A volume of Pope's translation of Homer, two gilt candlesticks, an ivory paperweight, an oak barometer, and a ball of thread are missing."

"How queer!" I exclaimed.

"Well, these guys are obviously taking advantage of it, and taking whatever they encounter."

Holmes snorted on the sofa.

"The district police should find something in this," said Holmes. "Well, it is evident that--"

However, I pointed out my finger and warned him: "You have come here to rest, my dear friend. Please don't start a new case while you are still very tired."

Holmes shrugged his shoulders, cast a resigned glance at the Colonel, and we turned to insignificant topics.

However, it was fate that all those words that I, as a doctor, warned him were in vain.The next morning the case itself compelled us not to ignore it.Our country visit took a turn that neither of us expected.We were having breakfast when the Colonel's butler rudely barged in.

"Have you heard, sir?" he gasped. "At the Cunningham's! Sir."

"Isn't it theft again?" the colonel said aloud, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Killed someone!"

The colonel couldn't help exclaiming: "My God! Who was killed? The sheriff, or his son?"

"Neither, sir. It was William the coachman who was killed. The bullet went through his heart, and he can't speak anymore."

"Who killed him?"

"It was the thief, sir. He fled away without a trace. He had just climbed in through the kitchen window when William found him. William lost his life defending the master's property."

"When was that?"

"Last night, sir, about twelve o'clock in the evening."

"Ah, let's go and have a look." After speaking, the colonel calmly sat down and continued to eat breakfast.

"It is a very unfortunate business," added the colonel, when the steward had gone. "Old Cunningham is the head of our village, and a very decent man. He must be very sad, for the man has worked for him for several years." A good servant in [-]. The culprit is evidently the same villain who broke into the Acton house."

"The same man who stole that curious mass?" asked Holmes thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"It's probably the easiest thing in the world, but, at first glance, it's a little strange, isn't it? A gang of country thieves always changes their location, never Two home break-ins in the same area within a few days. Last night when you spoke of taking precautions, a thought crossed my mind that this place might be the least likely parish for thieves in England. It appears that I There is still a lot to learn.”

"I think it was done by local thieves," said the colonel. "The Actons and Cunninghams are the biggest houses in the place, and that's where he's going."

"Is it also the richest family?"

"Yes, they should be considered the richest. However, the two of them have been in a lawsuit for several years. This lawsuit has cost them both a lot of money. Old Acton once asked for half of the Cunningham family. property, and lawyers take advantage of it."

"If this is the work of a local villain, it will not be very difficult to track him down," said Holmes, yawning. "Well, Watson, I don't want to be involved in it."

"Officer Forrest wants to see you, sir," said the butler, opening the door suddenly.

An alert young police officer entered the room.

"Good morning, Colonel," said he. "I did not wish to disturb you, but we have heard that Mr. Holmes of Baker Street is here."

The Colonel pointed to my friend, and the Inspector nodded, and said: "We wish you to guide us, Mr. Holmes."

"It didn't work out, Watson," said Holmes, smiling. "We were discussing the case when you came in, Inspector. Perhaps you can let us know more about it." When he habitually leaned back As I leaned back in my chair, I knew my plan had failed again.

"In the Acton case, we have no clues yet. But in this current case, we have many leads to work on. Obviously, the two cases were committed by the same gang. We have eyewitnesses."

"what?!"

"Yes, sir. The perpetrator shot poor William Kirwan, and as he fled, Mr. Cunningham saw him from the bedroom window, and Mr. Alec saw him from the back corridor. Night At a quarter past eleven, Mr. Cunningham had just fallen asleep, and Mr. Alec was smoking upstairs in his pajamas. They both heard William the coachman calling for help, and Mr. Alec ran downstairs to see what had happened. What. When he got to the foot of the stairs, the back door was open and he saw two men wrestling outside. One shot and the other fell. The killer ran across the garden, over the fence, and got away. Kan Mr. Ningan, looking out of his bedroom, saw the fellow run out into the road, and in the blink of an eye he was gone. Mr. Alec's attempt to save the dying man, instead of pursuing the murderer, allowed the scoundrel to flee. We have no clue as to his appearance, other than the fact that he is of medium height and dark clothes, but we are doing our best to investigate, and if he is a foreigner, we can find him immediately."

"What about William? Did he say anything before he died?"

"Not a word was said. He lived with his mother in the servants' quarters. As he was so faithful to his master, we thought he might have gone into the kitchen to see if everything was all right there. After the Acton case, here's Everyone raised their guard. The robber had just picked the lock and opened the door when William found him."

"Did William say anything to his mother before he went out?"

"His mother was old and deaf, and she gave us no useful clues. This frightened her into a sort of dementia. However, as far as I know, she is not usually very shrewd. However, we have A very important situation. Take a look!"

The officer took a torn piece of paper from his notebook and spread it on his lap.

"We found the paper tightly held in the dead man's hand. It appeared to have been torn from a larger piece of paper. You see, the time written on it matches exactly when the poor fellow was killed. Either the murderer tore a piece from the dead man's hand, or the dead man took the corner from the murderer. The contents of this paper are like a date note."

Holmes picked up the little scrap of paper and examined it carefully.Below is a reproduction of it.

"Let's assume that this is a date," the police officer continued, "of course we can speculate: Although William seems loyal, it does not rule out the possibility that he has colluded with the thieves. He may be there to meet the thieves, and may even be helping After the thieves entered the house, the two of them fell out for some reason."

"That's a very interesting handwriting," said Holmes, examining the note carefully. "It's more complicated than I imagined." He put his head in his hands and mused. A famous detective can't help but feel a little proud of taking so much trouble.

Holmes said after a while: "You just said that there may be collusion between the thief and the servant. This piece of paper may be a secret letter from one person to another. This idea is indeed unique, and it is not entirely impossible. But this note It clearly says..." He put his head in his hands and pondered for a moment.When he raised his head again, I was surprised to see that his face was rosy again, his eyes were hale and full of energy, and he jumped up.

He said: "I would very much like to go quietly to the place where the crime happened and get some details. This case is very interesting to me. If you will allow me, Colonel, I would like to leave for a while and go with the police officer to verify my one. Two thoughts. I'll be back in half an hour."

An hour and a half later, the officer came back alone.

"Mr. Holmes is walking up and down in the fields, and he wants the four of us to go and see the house," said the inspector.

"To Mr. Cunningham's?"

"Yes, sir."

"What are you doing there?"

The Inspector shrugged his shoulders, and said: "I don't know, sir. I don't think Mr. Holmes is fully recovered. He is behaving very oddly, and agitated."

"I don't think you should be surprised," I said. "I'm used to it. When he's crazy, he knows it."

"His methods, some will say, are insane," muttered the Inspector, "but he is in a hurry to investigate, Colonel, so if you are ready, we'd better set off now."

When we came out into the field, we saw Holmes pacing up and down with his head bowed and his hands in his trouser pockets.

"The matter is becoming more and more interesting," said Holmes. "Your country excursion, Watson, has evidently been a success. I have had a marvelous morning."

"I know, you have been to the scene of the crime." The colonel said.

"Yes, I checked the crime scene with the police officer."

"Any gains?"

"Yes, we saw some very interesting things. Let's talk as we go. First of all, the unfortunate body did die from a gunshot wound, as the officer said it would."

"Do you think there is any doubt?"

"Well, it's better to think everything over. We've been successful. We've interviewed Mr. Cunningham and his son, because they were able to point out the exact spot where the murderer fled over the garden fence. It's the most important thing. It's important."

"of course."

"Later we visited the poor man's mother. But she was old and infirm, and we could not get any useful clues from her."

"So, what's the result of your investigation?"

"The result is that I am convinced that this is a strange crime. Perhaps the interview we are going to make will shed some light on the case. The time written on this piece of paper in the deceased's hand is the time when he died. is of the utmost importance. On this, officer, we agree."

"That gives us a clue, Mr. Holmes."

"Indeed, the man who wrote this note was the one who asked William Kirwan to get up at that hour. But who has the other half of the paper?"

"I checked the ground carefully hoping to find it," the officer said.

"It was torn from the hands of the dead by the murderer. Why would anyone want it so desperately? Because it was evidence of a crime. What would he do with it after it was torn off? Note that a corner of the paper is still held by the dead man. If we can find the piece of paper that has been torn away, we will obviously have no trouble solving the mystery."

"Yes, but how can we find it in the criminal's pocket if we have not caught the criminal?"

"Yes, it deserves careful consideration. It is also obvious. This note is for William. The person who wrote it would not have handed it to William himself, otherwise he could have told it himself. William. Who is the bearer, then? By the post office?"

"I have made inquiries," said the inspector. "William received a letter from the post office yesterday afternoon, but he has destroyed the envelope."

"Excellent!" cried Holmes, slapping the Inspector on the back. "You have met the postman. It is a great honor to work with you. Well, here is the servants' room, Colonel, if you will come in, I'll show you the crime scene."

Passing the pretty cottage where the victim had lived, and along an oak-lined avenue, we came to a splendid Queen Anne mansion with the date of Marlborough engraved on the lintel.Holmes and the police officer led us around to the side door.Outside the gate is the garden, and beyond the fence is the avenue.A policeman was standing outside the kitchen door.

"Open the door, sir," said Holmes. "Well, it is on the stairs that Mr. Cunningham Jr. saw the two wrestling. We are standing where Mr. Cunningham is. The murderer is seen at the second window from the left having just fled to the left of the bush. Both of them mentioned the bush and their account agrees. Then Mr. Cunningham Jr. ran out and knelt beside the wounded. You see, the ground here is very hard, and has left us no trace." As Holmes was speaking, two figures rounded the corner of the house, walked up the garden path, and came towards us.One of them was older, resolute, deeply wrinkled, and unhappy; the other was a well-dressed young man with a lively, smiling face, in sharp contrast to the case for which we had come.

"Are you still investigating that matter?" he said to Holmes. "Aren't you Londoners good at solving crimes? But it seems that you can't solve the case at once."

"Ah, we need a little more time," said Holmes cheerfully.

"It does seem necessary to you," said Alec Cunningham. "Oh, I don't see any clue at all."

"There is only one clue," replied the Inspector. "We think that if only we can find it. . . Good heavens! What is the matter with you, Mr. Holmes?"

My poor friend suddenly put on a frightening expression.His eyes rolled upward, his face contorted with pain.He couldn't help grunting in pain, and fell headlong to the ground.His sudden onset, and its severity, startled us all.We quickly lifted him onto a large chair in the kitchen.He breathed heavily for a while, then finally stood up, ashamed and sorry for his weakness.

"Watson will tell you that I am recovering from a serious illness," explained Holmes. "This kind of neuralgia is prone to sudden attacks."

"Shall I take you home in a carriage?" asked old Cunningham.

"Well, now that I'm here, there's one more thing I want to get straight to. The case will be cleared up soon."

"What is the problem?"

"It seems to me that poor William probably came into the kitchen not before the burglar entered, but after. It seems that you just take it for granted that the robber did not enter, though the door was thrown open."

"I think it is certain," said Mr. Cunningham gravely. "My son Alec is awake, and if anyone moves about he will hear it."

"Where was he sitting then?"

"I was smoking in the locker room."

"Which window is the dressing room?"

(End of this chapter)