Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter 153 The Last Greeting (15)
This is a restaurant.A half-lit chandelier hangs above.The coffin was placed on the table.My friend slowly opened the coffin lid.There was a thin corpse inside, and under the light, I saw the old face of an old man. Seeing this, I felt a little relieved.Even tortured and starved, that beautiful face shouldn't be like this.

"Thank goodness!" said Holmes, "it is another man."

"You have made a great mistake this time, Mr. Holmes," said Peters triumphantly, and he followed us in.

"Who is this woman?" said Holmes quietly.

"If you really want to know, I can tell you, of course, Mr. Holmes. She was my wife's nurse, Rose Spender. We found it in the clinic attached to the Brixton Asylum. She We moved here, and invited Dr. Holling, who lived in No. 131 Fairbank Villa, to take care of her carefully and to fulfill the responsibility of a Christian friend. But after three days, she died. The doctor also issued a certificate of aging and died. Then I called Sim & Co., Kensington Road, to take care of the matter. Burial at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. What kind of loopholes can you find here? My lord sir, you should honestly admit that you committed a crime. You made a big mistake. You opened the lid, expecting to see Lady Frances Carfax, but instead, you found a dry old lady in her nineties I thought it would be fun if I took a picture of your expression just now."

Under his cynicism, Holmes remained indifferent.But his clenched hands showed great anger. "I want to search your house," replied Holmes coldly.

"Are you still searching?" Peters yelled.

At this moment, a lady's heavy footsteps came from the passage.

"We'll see right and wrong in a moment. Come here, officers. These two are breaking and entering. I can't get them out of here, please help me get them out of here."

The two officers stood in the passage, and Holmes showed them his cards.

"Here is my name and address. He is my friend, Dr. Watson."

"Well, sir, I've known you for a long time," said the inspector, "but you two can't stay here without legal papers."

"Of course I know it won't work."

"Get him!" Peters yelled again.

"Of course we know what to do if need be," replied the Inspector with the utmost gravity. "But Mr. Holmes, you must get out of here now."

"Well, Watson, we must go."

We were presently back in the street again, Holmes indifferent, as usual, and I very annoyed, the Inspector walking behind us.

"I am sorry, Mr. Holmes, but the law is as it is, and we cannot change it."

"Yes, Mr. Police Officer, I know, you can't help it either."

"I think there must be a purpose for you to come here. If you need help—" "Mr. Inspector, it is about a missing lady. I think she is in this house. I am waiting for a search warrant. It should be delivered soon." .”

"Then what should we do? Monitor them, yes, monitor them, and report to you if there is any movement."

It was about nine o'clock then, and we searched for clues as best we could.We first went to the Brixton Almshouse, where we learned that indeed a charitable couple had visited a few days ago, and they said that the demented old woman was a servant of their almshouse, and they asked to take her back.The poorhouse did not show any surprise when they heard the news that she died after going there.

The second target was a doctor who had been called to see the old woman and found that she had indeed died of excessive old age.So he signed the official medical certificate.

"I am sure that everything is normal. There is no loophole in this matter."

He said that nothing suspicious was found in the house, but he didn't quite understand that such a family would have no servants. The doctor provided these information and nothing else.

We ended up going to Scotland Yard and had trouble getting a search warrant. It took a while to get a signature from the Sheriff's Department the next day.

If Holmes called at about nine o'clock, he and Lethreid could go and get a warrant.

And so the day passed.Near midnight, our Mr. Sheriff brought us unexpected news: he saw candles moving to and fro in the windows of the big dark house, but no one was coming in or out.

We'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Holmes was so anxious that he said nothing, fidgeted, and did not even want to sleep.He took a few puffs of cigarette vigorously, frowned again, his slender fingers tapped on the back of the chair for a while, and then swayed back and forth for a while.He is thinking about the problem at this time.

I heard him up and down the night, walking up and down the house.The next day, he woke me up. I saw that his face was pale and his eyes were dark, which was the result of staying up late. "Is the burial at nine?" he asked anxiously. "Well, it's eight-fifteen, Watson, and we must hurry before we are too late—this is a very important business. Hurry up!"

We got into the carriage and set off in less than 10 minutes. Although it was so fast, it was already nine o'clock when we arrived at the destination. It was really dangerous!But, fortunately, the other party was also late, it was past nine ten, and the hearse was still by the door.When our carriage stopped, three coffin-bearers appeared at the door, and Holmes rushed to block them.

"Bring it back!" he yelled, putting one hand on the chest of the person in front, "Why are you in a daze, carry it back immediately!"

"What do you want? Do you have a search warrant?" cried Peters viciously, his flushed face kept looking at the coffin. "Don't worry, the search warrant will arrive soon. Take it back and bury it when the search warrant arrives. Do you hear me?" Holmes ordered.

The coffin bearers were stunned by Holmes' stern tone, and at some point, Peters had retreated into the house.The coffin bearers obey orders.

"Quick, Watson! Loosen the screw!"

"Brother, take it, as long as you open the coffin lid within 2 minutes, I will reward you with a pound of gold coins."

"—Don't ask, hurry up! Do you hear me?"

"Okay, that's it, great!"

"Hurry up, work hard together, one, two, three, okay, it will open right away."

We lifted the lid of the coffin, and an extremely unpleasant smell of chloroform almost made everyone faint. Inside lay a body with gauze soaked in anesthetics wrapped around its head. It could be vaguely seen that it was a middle-aged woman, beautiful. Her face was charming, elegant, and generous, like an ancient Greek statue, and he immediately walked over to help her up.

"Watson, see if she is dead. Is she still angry? I think we are not too late."

It has been more than half an hour, and she still hasn't woken up. Maybe we are late, because chloroform is poisonous, and Ms. Frances is almost unconscious.

We have tried all scientific methods that can be used, such as artificial respiration and ether injection.Her eyelids could finally move, and there was a faint light in her eyes, oh, finally alive.A carriage approached, and Holmes opened the shutter to look out. "Very well, Lethred is here with a warrant. It's a pity that the man he wanted to catch has escaped. But there is another one." When there was a rush of footsteps on the corridor, he said again: "This man will have more right to take care of this lady than we do. Good morning, Mr. Green! I think we had better send Miss Frances away. I also declare that the funeral will begin now, and the coffin lies The old woman can finally rest in peace alone."

"If you wish to enter this case into your notebook, Watson, you may do so only as a small instance of the temporary deception which most men, however sane, fall into. It cannot be avoided. The best thing to do is to find ways to remedy it, luckily, I finally recognized it and repaired it well, and my reputation was finally preserved...” said my friend.

I asked, "Is there anything else that needs to be said?"

"Yes, I was tormented by a thought for a long time that night, and I thought I found a clue there, but I just couldn't figure it out.

"Is it an odd discourse, a questionable external phenomenon, or . . .

"After dawn, my mind suddenly jumped, and I had an idea. I remembered what Mr. Green told me about the funeral lady owner. She said that it should have been delivered earlier, but it would take a little longer. The coffin is different from ordinary items. Same, it must be made according to a certain size. Why such a big coffin is used to hold such a small person, I don't know why. Yes, yes, there must be another person, it must be.

"They intend to bury two bodies with a certificate. If my view is not blocked, I can see that they are going to bury Lady Frances at nine o'clock, and we must stop this.

"It may be found that she is not dead, even if there is a slight hope, but it has to be done. It is said that these people never kill directly, they always try to avoid violence when they kill.

"The trick is really good. If you bury people without showing any suspicious signs, even if you dig it up, they may still escape.

"I hope I'm thinking reasonably, and you can recall the situation again. That gloomy hut upstairs is the cell where they locked up the lady for a long time. Suddenly one day, someone rushed in and put chloroform over her mouth. , put her in a coffin, put chloroform inside to prevent her from waking up, and finally nailed the coffin.

"It's the best way, isn't it? Watson, it's really brilliant.

"It's a miracle in the annals of crime, and if our former missionary escapes from Lethred, there's bound to be more to come.

"Just wait and see!" Devil's feet

My friend Sherlock Holmes has often encountered strange and curious incidents, but as he would not make them known to the public, I have difficulty in recording these thrilling adventures.

He has a queer temper and hates any kind of compliment, genuine or false.He thinks the most ridiculous thing is to report the case to the officials after the case is over, and listen to people's congratulations with a fake smile on his face. He just doesn't like worldly things like this and treats honor indifferently.

In fact, I took part in several exciting adventures with him during the next few years. His weird temper, I had to give up.

But things are always unexpected.I was surprised to receive a telegram suddenly last Sunday, for it was from Holmes, who would never have written a letter himself if he had the opportunity to do so.What surprised me was the content of the telegram:

Why not publish to our readers some of the scariest and most bizarre Kernish horrors we've ever experienced?
I don't know what it was, maybe a gadget, or a scene, that brought him back to it, maybe the thought of memory brought him back to yesterday.I don't know what strange notion it was that would lead him to ask me to speak publicly about this frightening experience.

I opened the records right away, I'm not sure if he's going to change his mind, maybe he'll send another telegram asking for this plan to be reversed, I have to act fast.The records in the notes are true and detailed, providing the detailed content of the case, which is now shown to the readers.

In the spring of 1897, Holmes was gradually exhausted due to his busy work. His iron body was a little unable to support him. He usually did not pay attention to his diet, and his health began to deteriorate.

In March of that year, Dr. Moore Agaga—I will tell you about the drama of his introduction to Holmes at another day—expressly ordered the private investigator to drop all cases and take a break. , otherwise he will be completely destroyed.Although Holmes is a workaholic, he only cares about his work and doesn't care about his body at all, but once he really collapses, it will be impossible for him to work for a long time, and this finally attracted his attention.He decided to follow the advice and go on vacation for a change of scenery and some fresh air.

In the early spring of that year, we came together to an elegant small villa near the Bordeaux Bay at the end of the Kenish peninsula.

It was a beautiful place, and it suited the bad mood of my patient, Sherlock Holmes.The villa was freshly painted and very clean, and it was built on a grassy promontory.Looking out from the window, you can see the semi-circular terrain of the entire Momonis Bay, like a natural harbor.But there are often accidents of sea ships here, surrounded by black cliffs and reefs, and many sailors died here.

Whenever the north wind blows, the calm and secluded harbor always attracts ships that have been hit by wind and waves to anchor to shelter from the wind and rain, but the wind direction will suddenly change again. The shore is dying in the waves.The sea water beat against the cliffs and reefs, and instantly turned into sharp teeth of monsters, engulfing the ships that came to shelter from the wind.A wise crew will always avoid this dangerous place far away.

The land around us is as gloomy as the sea.In the wet swamp, occasionally a church bell tower appears, indicating that this is the site of an ancient village.On the swamp, there are relics of a certain nation that has been submerged and disappeared everywhere. Those strange steles, the chaotic mounds with the ashes of the dead buried, and the earthen weapons used in prehistoric wars are left by human activities. the only record of .

The charm of this place, and the ominous atmosphere of that forgotten people, infected my friend's imagination.

He often walks and thinks alone on the swamp.He also noticed the ancient Kernish language, which I remember he deduced was similar to Chaldean and probably came from Phoenician traders who traded tin.He has collected books on linguistics and is currently concentrating on this problem.

However, some things made me worry, but made him happy.That is, in this dreamy place, we are still caught in a conundrum that happened on our doorstep.It was more tense, more fascinating, more mysterious than what we encountered in London, and it disturbed our simple and quiet life.Inadvertently, we are drawn into a series of events that have shaken Cornwalla and the whole of the West of England.

Those events were called the "Kernish Horror" at the time.Its circumstances, the reader may recall, although the reports sent to the London press are by no means complete, have now passed thirty years, when I shall endeavor to bring out the truth of these incredible events.

I have said that the scattered church towers speak of the scattered villages in this part of Cornwalla.Among them, the small village of Tredanick Wallas is the closest to our villa. Hundreds of villagers live there, and an old moss-covered church is surrounded by their huts.The parish priest, Mr. Longett, was an archaeologist, and Holmes knew him as an archaeologist. Mr. Longett was very good-looking, approachable, quite learned, and knew the local conditions very well.

He invited us to tea at his parish-house, and thus introduced us to Mr. Mortick Trekens, a self-sufficient gentleman who rented some of the parsonage's rooms, so that the vicar received a meager income.The clergyman, being a lonely bachelor, was happy to make such an arrangement, though he was very different from the lodger.

Mr. Trekens was somewhat misshapen, dark and thin, with glasses and a stooped waist.During our visit, the Vicar talked all the time, but his lodger sat silent, looking out of the window, evidently thinking of his own thoughts.

March No. 16, that is, Tuesday, after having breakfast with Holmes, I was smoking leisurely together, and when I was about to go to the swamp for my daily stroll, Mr. Longaid and Mr. Trekens suddenly Come and visit.

"Mr. Holmes," said the vicar excitedly, "the most singular and tragic event that has never been heard of happened here last night. It is a blessing that you are here. You are the only one we have in all England. people in need."

I eyed the uninvited guest unfriendly.Holmes took his pipe from his mouth, and sitting up straight, like a seasoned hound hearing the call, he pointed to the sofa and seated his two guests.So the terrified visitor and his anxious companion sat down on the sofa. Mr. Mortick Trekens was calmer than the priest, but his thin hands were still shaking and his eyes were fixed. They stared blankly at us, which showed that they both were equally agitated and looked extremely nervous.

"Do you speak or shall I speak?" he asked the pastor.

"Well, anyway, you were the first to discover it, and the pastor also knew it from you, so let you tell the story!" Holmes said.

I looked at the pastor: the clothes he put on in a hurry were still a little messy, but the tenant sitting next to him was neatly dressed.I find it ridiculous that Holmes' few simple inferences shocked them.

"Let me say a few words first," said the priest, "and then you decide whether to listen to Mr. Trekens' account of the details, or to go at once to the scene of the strange occurrence."

The chaplain paused for a moment, as if the recounting of the matter had terrified him.

"The first thing to say is that last night our friend was with his two brothers Okun and Joss and sister Broda at Terry Dannick Vasa's house on a stone cross in the swamp. Nearby. They were in good health, playing cards at the table cheerfully, and our friend left them just after ten o'clock.

"He usually gets up very early. Before he had breakfast this morning, he walked in that direction. Dr. Charles Des came to him in a carriage and told him that he was invited to go to Terry Danny Vassar for a medical examination. Emergency. Mr. Mortick Trekens went away with him. When they got there, they found a strange thing."

"Oh, I don't know what to say, it's unbelievable." The pastor paused again.

(End of this chapter)