The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 86 The Return (1)
Empty house
In the spring of [-], the inexplicable murder of the venerable Ronald Adair, under the most extraordinary circumstances, attracted the attention of all London, and greatly alarmed high society.The facts of the case released after the police investigation are known to everyone, but many details have been redacted.Because the reasons for the prosecution are already very sufficient, it is not necessary to disclose all the evidence.It is now, nearly ten years after the crime, that I am allowed to fill in some missing details from the investigation.Although the case itself is intriguing, it is nothing compared to the unimaginable ending in my opinion.Of all the adventures I have had in my life, the outcome of this case shocked and surprised me the most.Even after all these years, I still get chills thinking about it, and I can relive the excitement, wonder, and confusion that flooded my mind like a sudden tide.To those readers who care about the words and deeds of a remarkable man whom I occasionally speak of, let me say a word to them: don't reproach me for not letting them share all I know.If he hadn't personally ordered the ban, I would have made this the first thing to do.The ban was not lifted until the third day of last month.

It is not difficult to imagine that my close association with Sherlock Holmes gave me a keen interest in criminal cases.After his disappearance, I carefully read all the mysterious cases that were published publicly.To satisfy my own interests, I have repeatedly used his method to reinterpret these mysteries, without much success.Yet no mystery has fascinated me so much as the tragic death of Ronald Adel.When I read the evidence presented at the trial and on the basis of which an unidentified person or persons were convicted of murder, I realized more than ever the great loss to society of Holmes' death.I am sure that several doubtful points in this strange incident must have fascinated him deeply.Holmes, Europe's leading criminal detective, with his well-trained observation skills and quick mind, makes up for the lack of police forces, and more often prompts them to act in advance.I made my daily rounds with this mystery always in my mind, but could find no good explanation to convince myself of it.At the risk of telling an old story, I briefly recounted what had been announced at the close of the trial.

Ronald Adair was the second son of the Earl of Merluth, Governor of an Australian colony.His mother had returned from Australia for cataract surgery and lived with her son Adel and daughter Hilda at 427 Park Lane.This young man was in high society, he had no enemies and no vices.He was engaged to Miss Edith Woodley, of Castles, which had been broken off by mutual agreement some months before, and there was no apparent mutual attachment afterwards.He usually spends his time in a small, conservative circle, his temperament is cold, and he is used to living a life of no change.However, on the night of March [-], [-], between ten o'clock and eleven twenty o'clock, the strangest mode of death assailed this lazy and undisciplined youth.

Ronald Adair liked to play cards, and he played them continuously, for stakes ranging from small enough to discredit him.He was a member of the three card clubs of Baldwin, Cavendish and Baggertell.On the day of his murder he played a game of whist after dinner at the Cavendish Club, where he had also played that afternoon.Mr. Murray, Sir John Hardy, and Colonel Moran, who played with him, proved that they were playing whist, and that each had about as good a hand as any, and Adair probably lost five pounds at most.He has a considerable fortune and a win or loss like this will never matter to him.Every day, he played at one club or another, but he was careful and often left the table as a winner.It was also mentioned in the evidence that, some weeks before, he had won Godfrey Milner and Lord Balmoral £420 in one sitting with Colonel Moran.This is the current situation about him in the investigation report.

It was exactly ten o'clock when he returned home from the club on the night of the accident.His mother and sister went to visit relatives and did not return.The maid stated that she heard him enter the vestibule on the second floor, the room he used to use as his living room.She lit a fire in the house, and because of the smoke she opened the window.There was no movement in the house until twenty past eleven, when Mrs. Melouth and her daughter returned.Mrs. Maylous wanted to go into her son's room to say good night, but found the door locked from the inside.The mother and daughter called and knocked on the door, but there was no response.So they had the door thrown open, and there was the unfortunate young man lying at the table, his head crushed by a revolver bullet.He looked terrible, but there were no weapons in the room.There were two ten-pound notes on the table, and eleven pounds and ten shillings in gold and silver, in ten little piles of varying amounts.There was also a note on the table with some numbers and the names of some friends in the club.It is speculated that he was calculating the winning or losing of playing cards before he was killed.

After examining the scene in detail, the case became more complicated.First, there is no reason why the young man should have barred the door in the house.It is possible that the murderer bolted the door and escaped by jumping through the window.And the height from the window to the ground was at least thirty feet, and the flowerbed under the window was full of crocuses, but neither the flowers nor the ground seemed to have been stepped on. There are no traces of trampling.So, it was clear that the young man himself had bolted the door.If a man had fired a revolver at a window outside, and it had been a fatal shot, causing such fatal wounds, he must have been a good shooter.In addition, Park Road is a large road with people coming and going, and there is a carriage stop less than 100 meters from the house.Someone had been shot and killed here, and a revolver bullet that exploded like all lead-nosed bullets, and its instant-killing wound, hadn't been heard by anyone.These circumstances of the Park Road mystery were further complicated by the absence of a motive, since, as has been said, young Adair was not known to have had any enemies, nor had any money or valuables been lost in his house. .

I ruminated over these facts all day long, trying to find a theory that would explain it, and thus discover the shortest path of least effort, which my deceased friend called the starting point of all investigations.In the evening I strolled through the park, and at about six o'clock I reached the end of the park road where it joins Oxford Street.A crowd of loafers gathered on the sidewalk looked up at a window.They pointed out the house that I had come to look at.A tall, lanky man in dark glasses was narrating some of his speculations, and the others were listening. I very much doubted that he was a plainclothes detective.I tried my best to move forward. His remarks sounded so ridiculous that I squeezed out of the crowd with a little disgust.At this moment, I bumped into a disabled old man behind and knocked off a few books he was holding.When I picked up those books, I remembered that one of them was called "The Origin of Tree Worship."This reminds me that the old man must be a poor bibliophile, collecting some little-known books as a profession or hobby.I do my best to apologize for the unexpectedness, but unfortunately, the books I dropped were obviously very precious in the eyes of their owners.He growled unhappily, turned and left.I watched his hunched back and gray sideburns slowly disappear into the crowd.

I've looked at 427 Parkway many times, but it doesn't help me figure out what concerns me.The house was separated from the street only by a low wall, half a fence, no more than five feet high, and it was easy for anyone to climb over the wall to enter.But that window was totally out of reach, because there were no water pipes or other things outside the wall that would help a light-bodied person climb up.I was more bewildered than ever, and could only return to Kensington.I hadn't been in the study for five minutes when the maid came in and said someone wanted to see me.To my surprise, it was none other than the eccentric collector of poor old books.His chiseled, thin face was covered with a gray beard, and at least a dozen beloved books were tucked under his right arm.

"You didn't expect it to be me, sir." His voice was hoarse and strange.

I admit I didn't think it was him.

"I am very sorry, sir. I was limping after you just now, and I happened to see you enter this house. I said to myself, I will come in and call on the good gentleman, and I will say to him, My attitude just now was a bit rough, but there was no malice, and I would also like to thank him for helping me pick up the book."

"You take this trivial matter too seriously," I said. "May I ask how you recognized me?"

"Sir, if I'm not being too presumptuous, I'm your neighbour, and my little bookshop is just around the corner from Church Street. You probably collect books too, sir. I have The Birds of England, The Cetura Adams, Holy War--very cheap, each at a very cheap price. Five books and you just fill up the second shelf of the bookcase. There's room now, and it doesn't look quite neat, does it, sir?"

I turned my head to look at the bookcase behind.When I turned my head, Sherlock Holmes was standing at the desk and looking at me with a smile.I stood up and stared at him in amazement for a few seconds before I seemed to pass out.This is the first and last time in my life.Indeed, there was a white mist swirling in front of my eyes.It was only when the mist cleared that I realized my collar was unbuttoned, the brandy still lingered on my lips, and Holmes was leaning over my chair with the flask he always carried with him in one hand.

"My dear Watson," said a familiar voice, "I am terribly sorry. I never thought you would be so overwhelmed."

I gripped his arms tightly.

"Holmes!" I cried. "Is it really you? Are you still alive? How was it possible for you to climb up from that dreadful abyss?"

"Wait," he said, "do you think you've got the energy to talk about this now? Look at how excited you are by my superfluous dramatic presence!"

"I'm all right. But seriously, Holmes, I can't believe my eyes. My God! There are so many people in the world, and you're the only one standing in my study." I took another of his sleeves. , touching the lean and powerful arm hidden inside. "But you are not a ghost, anyway," said I. "My dear friend, I am glad to see you. Sit down and tell me how you escaped from that dreadful ravine."

Holmes sat opposite me, and, as before, lit a cigarette as if nothing had happened.He was wearing a shabby long coat worn by a bookseller, with only a pile of white hair sticking out, and the old books were on the table.He looked thinner and more alert than before, but there was an unconcealable pallor on his hawk-like face, which made it easy for me to see that he had been living an irregular life recently.

"I am glad to be able to straighten myself, Watson," said he. "It is no joke to make a tall man shrink a foot for hours on end. How shall I explain all this, my dear old friend, we —if I may beseech your cooperation—there is another night of arduous work ahead. Perhaps it will be best when this work is over that I shall give you all the details."

"I'm eager to know, and I want to hear it now."

"Would you like to come with me tonight?"

"When and where you want to go, as you say."

"It's the same as before. There's still time for dinner before we start. Well, I'll just talk about the canyon. I've had no trouble getting out of it. The reason is simple—I didn't fall in at all."

"You didn't fall in at all?"

"No, Watson. I did not fall in at all. But the note I gave you was entirely true. When I spotted the sinister-looking Professor Moriarty standing on the narrow passage leading to safety Doubt my end is at hand. In his gray eyes, I perceive a merciless intent. So I exchanged a few words with him, and he politely nodded his assent, and I wrote the letter you received later I left the letter, the cigarette case, and the cane there, and walked up the narrow lane, with Moriarty still on my heels. I was cornered at the end. He didn't draw his weapon, Instead he rushed over and hugged me out of the blue. He knew he was doomed and just wanted to get back at me. We wrestled at the edge of a waterfall. But I know a bit of Japanese wrestling, which has come in handy a few times in the past. I learned from his He escaped with both arms. He let out a horrific scream, kicked wildly a few times, and grabbed the air with both hands. Despite his great efforts, he still couldn't keep his balance and finally fell. I poked my head I saw him fall very deep, then hit a protruding rock, was ejected again, and fell into the water."

I listened with great wonder as Holmes related this experience while smoking a cigarette.

"But there are still footprints!" I exclaimed. "I saw with my own eyes the footprints of two people walking forward on that road, but not one walking back."

"The situation is this: at the moment when the professor fell into the deep pool, I suddenly realized that fate had arranged an ingenious opportunity for me. On the one hand, I knew that it was not only Moriarty who had sworn to kill me One, and at least three others, whose desire to take revenge on me will grow stronger because their leader died because of me. They are all the most dangerous people. Of the three, one will definitely find me. The other On the one hand, if the whole world believes that I am dead, these people will let down their vigilance, show up soon, and act casually, so that I will have a chance to eliminate them sooner or later. At that time, I can declare that I am still alive. Brain activity Fast as lightning, I believe I thought of all this before Moriarty sank to the bottom of the deep pool at the Reichenbach Falls.

"I stood up and looked at the cliff behind. In your vivid article, which I read with relish later, you asserted that it was a cliff. You are not quite right. There are still a few narrow cliffs exposed on the cliff. There is a foothold, and there is a place that looks like a ledge. It is obviously impossible to climb such a high cliff with a few footholds, and it is also impossible to go out along the wet narrow path without leaving footprints Yes. I could, of course, walk out with my shoes upside down, as I have done on similar occasions before, but the presence of three pairs of footprints in the same direction would undoubtedly suggest a trick. So, the trade-off Well, it's better to venture up it. It's not a thing I'd like to do, Watson. The waterfall is rumbling at my feet. I'm not good at fantasies, but I can hear Moriarty rushing down the abyss. The sound of my shouting is true. Several times, when I lost my grip on the grass around me, or slipped my foot through a slippery opening in the rock, I thought I was done. But I scrambled up, At last climbed a ledge a few feet wide, covered with soft green moss, where I could lie comfortably unseen. My dear Watson, when you and your entourage are sympathetic but I lay on the ledge while futilely investigating the scene of my death.

"You came back to the hotel after drawing completely wrong conclusions, and I was left alone at last. I thought my danger was over, but another accident occurred, and I felt that there was still more to come. What surprised me was that it was right in front of me. A huge rock fell from above, brushed past me with a bang, hit the path below, jumped up and fell into the abyss. I thought this rock was naturally rolled It fell. After a while, I looked up and saw a human head peeking out of the darkened sky. Then another rock fell and hit me where I lay, not a foot from my head. Of course, this meant It's clear. Moriarty didn't act alone. When he attacked me, there was another accomplice watching, and I saw at a glance that this was an extremely dangerous guy. He was hiding in a place I couldn't see, Witnessing his friend falling into the abyss and drowning and my escape, he waited in the shadows, and then made his way to the top of the cliff in an attempt to accomplish what his friend had failed to do.

"I didn't spend much time thinking about this, Watson. I saw the grim face looking down from the top of the cliff again, and there was another omen of a stone coming down. I aimed for the path below the cliff and climbed down. ...I don't think I'll be able to climb down without much effort, in fact it's a hundred times harder than climbing up. However, I didn't have time to think about the dangers of climbing down. A stone fell past me with a whoosh. I was halfway up and my foot was empty. Fortunately, God forbid, I fell on the narrow path, only to fall with a bloody head. I got up and ran away, in the I walked ten miles in the dark in the hills, and a week later I was in Florence, and so no one in the world knew what happened to me.

(End of this chapter)