The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 92 The Return (7)
"No, Mr. Holmes. She didn't say anything. However, my poor wife has tried several times, but has not the courage to do so. I have tried to help her, too, but I have probably been too clumsy to frighten her." I don't dare to say it. I always thought she was going to get to the point when she talked about my old family and our reputation throughout the county and our proud clean reputation, but somehow, Before I even got to the point, I branched out."

"What did you discover yourself?"

"I have discovered many new things, Mr. Holmes. I have brought you some new pictures, and more importantly, I have seen the fellow."

"Who? The one who drew these symbols?"

"It was he, I saw him draw it. I'll tell you from the beginning. The first thing I saw when I got home the morning after my last visit was a new line of dancers. Chalked on the door of the tool shed. The tool shed is on the lawn, facing the front window. I copied one, and it's here." He unfolded a folded paper and put it on the table.

"Excellent!" said Holmes. "Excellent! Go on, please."

"After copying, I wiped off these marks on the door, but after two days, new ones appeared. I also copied one here."

Holmes rubbed his hands together, and laughed a little with pleasure.

"Our data is accumulating very quickly!" he said.

"Three days later, I found a note on the sundial with a pebble pressed on it. There was a line of little people scribbled on the note, exactly the same as last time. Watched. So took out my revolver, and sat in the study, for there was a view of the lawn and garden. About two o'clock in the morning, I heard footsteps behind me, and it was my wife in her pajamas. Yes. She begged me to go to bed and I told her I wanted to see who was playing tricks on us. She said it was a senseless prank and told me to ignore it.

"'If it really pissed you off, Hilton, we could go on a trip and get away from this nuisance.'

"'What? Let a prankster throw us out of the house? People will laugh at us.'

"'Go to bed,' she said, 'and we'll discuss it tomorrow.'

"As she was talking, I saw her face suddenly paler in the moonlight, and she grabbed my shoulder with one hand. Just in the shadow of the tool room opposite, something was moving. I saw a dark The figure sneaked around the corner of the room, went to the door of the tool room and squatted down. I grabbed the pistol and was about to rush out. My wife hugged me hard. I tried to shake her off, but she hugged me desperately and refused to let go. Finally I I broke free, and when I opened the door and ran to the tool room, the guy was gone. But he left a mark, and a line of dancing people was drawn on the door, the same arrangement as the previous two, and I copied them there On a piece of paper. I've searched all over the yard, and I can't see the guy. But it's just that he didn't go away, because when I checked the door again the next morning , I found that besides the line of villains I have seen, I have added a few new ones."

"Have you copied those new paintings?"

"I copied it anyway, it's very short, it's this one."

"Please tell me," said Holmes, with a twinkle of excitement in his eyes, "is this drawn under the previous line, or is it quite separate?"

"It was painted on another door panel."

"Excellent! This is the most important point for our research. I think it is very promising. Mr. Hilton Cupid, please continue to tell your most interesting story."

"There is nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was very angry with my wife that night for holding me back just as I was about to catch the rogue who had sneaked in. She said she was afraid I would Misfortune. It occurred to me that perhaps she feared misfortune to the man, for I already suspected that she knew who he was, and that she understood what the odd symbols meant. But, Mr. Holmes , her voice, her eyes are unmistakable. I believe she is really concerned about my safety. That's the whole situation, and now I need your advice on what to do. I'm going to get five or six farm boys to hide in the bushes myself Cong Li, when that guy reappears, give him a good beating, and he won’t dare to disturb us in the future.”

"He is a very cunning man, and I am afraid he will be difficult to deal with by such simple means," said Holmes. "How long have you been in London?"

"Today I have to go back. I don't feel comfortable leaving my wife home alone all night. She is very nervous and asked me to go back."

"Perhaps you are right to go back. If you can stay longer, maybe I can go back with you in a day or two. You give me these notes first, and I will visit you soon and help you solve your problems." trouble."

Holmes maintained his professional composure until our visitor departed.But knowing him well, it was easy to see that he was very excited.As soon as Hilton Cupid's burly figure disappeared from the doorway, my partner hurried to the table, laid all the notes in front of him, and began a complex analysis.I watched for two hours as he shifted the slips of paper with figures and letters on them, one by one, back and forth.He was so engrossed in the work that he completely forgot that I was there.When he was doing well, he would whistle for a while and sing for a while; sometimes when he was stumped, he would frown and stare blankly.At last, with a cry of satisfaction, he jumped up from his chair, and walked up and down the room, rubbing his hands together.Then he wrote a long telegram on the telegraph. "Watson, if there is anything I wish to hear in return, you will be able to add a very interesting case to your record," said he. "I hope we can go to Norfolk tomorrow and give our friend Bring some very clear messages about what's bothering him."

To be honest, I was tempted to ask why, but I knew that Holmes liked to reveal his discoveries in his own way when he thought it appropriate.So I just have to wait until the day he feels fit to explain everything to me.

However, there was no call back.We waited for two whole days in restraint, and Holmes listened whenever the doorbell rang.The next night came a letter from Hilton Cupid, saying that nothing was going on in his house, except that early that morning a long line of dancing figures had been drawn on the sundial.He copied one and sent it in a letter.

Holmes, stooped on the table, gazed at the grotesque picture for some minutes, then rose abruptly, with a cry of astonishment and dismay.He looked even more haggard because of his anxiety.

"We can't let this matter go any longer," said he. "Is there a train for North Walsham tonight?"

I found out the train timetable.The last train just left.

"Then we shall have an early breakfast tomorrow, and take the first train," said Holmes.

"Now we must appear. Ah, here comes the telegram we've been waiting for. Wait a minute, Mrs. Hudson, perhaps a telegram. No, everything is as I expected. This telegram makes us want more." Let Hilton Cupid know what is going on without delaying an hour, for this bewildered gentleman from Norfolk has fallen into a strange and dangerous net."

This later proved to be the case.Just when I was about to end this childish, ridiculous and outlandish story, my heart was filled with the astonishment and horror I felt at that time.Though I would very much like to give my readers a somewhat hopeful conclusion, I must, as a record of fact, carry on the true account of this strange chain of events to its unhappy conclusion.The occurrence of these events made "Racing Village Manor" a well-known term in the whole of Britain.

We alighted at North Walsham, and as soon as we mentioned our destination the station master hurried towards us. "You are detectives from London, aren't you?" he said.

Holmes had a look of impatience on his face.

"Why do you think of this?"

"Because Sergeant Martin of Norwich just came by. Maybe you two are surgeons. She's not dead, at least that's what the last word says. Maybe you managed to save her in time, but it's only by letting her go." Hang on the gallows alive."

Holmes' face was sullen and anxious. "We're going to Racecourse Village," he said, "but we haven't heard anything happened there."

"It's a terrible thing," said the station master. "Hilton Cupid and his wife were both shot. She shot her husband and then herself, as their servants say. The man is dead, There's not much hope for the girls. Why, they're the oldest and most respectable family in Norfolk!"

Holmes said nothing, and hastened into a carriage.He didn't say a word during the seven miles.Rarely have I seen him so thoroughly disappointed.All the way from London to here Holmes was restless, and I noticed him as he turned carefully from page to page in the various morning papers.Now, the sudden reality of his worst fears left him bewildered.He leaned back in his seat, silently thinking about this depressing turn of events.There was, however, much to interest us in this area, for we were passing through a country which is quite unique in England, and the few scattered farmhouses indicated that there were not many people living in this area.Square-towered churches can be seen all around, standing in a green and flat landscape, telling the prosperity of the former East Anglia kingdom.A blue-purple Germanic Sea finally appeared on the green Norfolk shore, and the coachman pointed with his whip to the old-fashioned brick-and-timber gable that emerged from the grove, and said, "That's the Racecourse Village."

The carriage drove up to the gate with the columned porch, and I saw ahead, by the tennis court, the black tool shed and the sundial which had aroused our strange associations.A short, quick, bearded man, who had just stepped out of a one-horse carriage, introduced himself as Sergeant Martin of the Norfolk Police.He looked surprised when he heard my companion's name.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes, the case took place at three o'clock this morning. How did you hear it in London, and be there as quickly as I was?"

"I've seen it all. I'm here hoping to prevent it from happening."

"Then you must have very important and crucial evidence, but we don't know anything, because they are said to be the most harmonious couple."

"I have only some physical evidence of dancing figures," said Holmes. "I will explain to you later. At present, since I have not had time to prevent this tragedy, I very much hope to use the material I have now to do justice. Will you let Shall I join your investigative work, or would you rather let me act freely?"

"It would be my honor if I could really act together with you," said the sheriff sincerely.

"In this case, I hope to hear the testimony and conduct an inspection immediately, and there will be no delay."

Inspector Martin was a wise man, and he let my friend go his own way, while he himself was content to write down the results carefully.The local surgeon, a gray-haired old man, had just come down from Mrs. Cupid's bedroom and reported that her injuries were serious but not fatal.The bullet went through her forehead, and it took her some time to regain consciousness.As for whether she was injured or self-injured, he dared not take the liberty to express a clear opinion.The shot must have been fired from very close to her.Only one pistol was found in the room, with only two rounds loaded.Mr. Hilton Cupid was shot through the heart.It can be assumed that Hilton shot his wife first, or that his wife was the murderer, since the revolver fell on the floor between them.

"Has he been moved?"

"No, just carried his wife out. We can't see her lying on the floor bruised like that."

"How long have you been here, Doctor?"

"From four o'clock until now."

"Anyone else?"

"Yes, it is the sheriff."

"You didn't touch anything, did you?"

"No."

"You are very thoughtful. Who sent you here?"

"Maid Saunders."

"She found out and called the police?"

"She and Mrs. Jin, the cook."

"Where are they now?"

"I think they're in the kitchen."

"I think we'd better hear what they have to say at once."

The ancient hall, paneled with oak and high windows, became the Court of Inquiry.Holmes sat in a large old-fashioned chair, his face was haggard, but his steady eyes gleamed.I could see in his eyes the unshakable determination to pursue the case with all his wits, to finally avenge the client he had failed to deliver.Among the strange company sitting in the hall was the well-dressed Inspector Martin, the gray-haired country doctor, myself, and a dull-witted village policeman.

The two women spoke very clearly.A bang woke them from their slumber, and then another.They slept in two adjoining rooms, and Mrs. King had come to Sanders' room by then.They went downstairs together.The door of the study was open, and a candle was burning on the table.The master was lying face down in the middle of the study, already dead.His wife was curled up near the window with her head against the wall.She was seriously injured, her face was covered with blood, and she was panting heavily, but she was already speechless.The corridors and study smelled of smoke and gunpowder.The windows are closed and plugged in from the inside.On this point, both of them said with certainty.Immediately they sent for the doctor and the police, and with the help of the groom and the stable boy, the wounded mistress was carried back to her bedroom.Before the accident, the couple had already gone to bed, she was wearing clothes, and he was wearing a dressing gown over his pajamas.Nothing in the study has been touched.As far as they know, there has never been a quarrel between husband and wife.They always thought they were a very harmonious couple.

These are the gist of the testimony of the two maids.In answer to Inspector Martin's question, they affirmed that all the doors were bolted from the inside and no one could get out.In answer to Holmes' question, they all said that they remembered the smell of gunpowder when they came out of their rooms on the attic."I draw your attention to this fact," said Holmes to his fellow Inspector Martin. "I think we may now begin to examine the room thoroughly."

The study is not big, with books on three walls.A desk faces a window that opens onto the garden.The first thing we notice is the remains of the poor gentleman.His burly body was sprawled across the room.The bullet was shot at him from the front, and after passing through the heart, it was inside the body, so he died immediately without pain.There were no traces of gunpowder on his dressing gown or on his hands.According to the country doctor, the mistress had marks of gunpowder on her face, but not on her hands.

"The absence of traces of powder means nothing, but it would make a very different case if there were any," said Holmes. "Unless it is a very ill-suited cartridge, the powder of which will be ejected backwards, no number of shots will leave any traces of powder." I suggest that Mr. Cupid's body should be removed now. Doctor, I don't think you have taken out the bullet that wounded your mistress?"

"It took a complicated operation to get the bullets out. But there were still four bullets in the revolver, and the other two had already been fired, causing two wounds, so all six bullets fell."

"It seems so," said Holmes. "Perhaps you can also explain the bullet that struck the window frame?" Turning suddenly, he pointed with his long thin finger to a distance from the bottom edge of the window frame. A small hole in the middle of the inch.

"Exactly!" exclaimed the Inspector. "How did you see that?"

"Because I was looking for it."

"Surprising discovery!" said the country doctor. "You are quite right, sir. There were three shots fired, so a third person must have been present. But who could it be? How did he get away?" ?”

"That is exactly the problem we have to solve," said Holmes. "Inspector Martin, you recall that I said that this was of the utmost importance when the maids spoke of the smell of gunpowder they smelled as soon as they left the room. no?"

"Yes, sir. But, frankly, I didn't quite understand you then."

"That means the doors and windows are all open when shooting, otherwise the gunpowder smoke would not blow upstairs so quickly. There must be a draft in the study. But the doors and windows are open for a short time."

"How do you prove that?"

"Because the candle wasn't blown to drip wax."

"Exactly!" exclaimed the Inspector. "Exactly!"

"I was sure that the window was open when the tragedy happened, and I thought that there might be a third person standing outside the window and shooting into the house. If you shoot at someone outside the window from the house at this time, it will be Possibly hit the window frame. I searched, and sure enough, I found the bullet hole there."

"But how did the windows close?"

"The mistress instinctively closed the window first. Ah, what is this?"

(End of this chapter)