Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter 156 The Last Greeting (18)
"You threw two or three handfuls of stones before Trekens came to the window. You told him to go downstairs, and when he realized it was you, he hurriedly dressed and went down to the living room. You Go in through the window, the two of you meet for a relatively short time, you keep walking up and down the house, and then you go out, close the window, stand outside on the lawn, smoking a cigarette and watching what happens inside , After confirming that Trekens was dead, you returned the same way. Dr. Stedale, what evidence can you produce now to prove that your actions are legal, and what is the purpose of your actions? If you Don't tell me the truth, but lie to me or make nonsense, I tell you, I will never care about this matter again, you think it over and tell the truth."

The doctor's face changed when he heard these words. He covered his face with his hands and sat there thinking. Suddenly, he had a sudden impulse, took out a photo from his pocket, and threw it on the rough stone table in front of us. .

"It was all for her that I did that," he said bitterly.

It was a bust of the face of a very beautiful woman.Holmes looked down at the photograph. "Broda Trekens," he said.

"Yes, Broda Trekens," repeated the guest, "I have loved her all these years, and she has loved me, and that is why I have lived in seclusion in Kernish. I have lived in seclusion Here, I can get close to the one thing that is most precious to me in this world, but I can't marry her because I already have a wife. Damn English laws, my wife has been away from me for many years, but I can't divorce, I I have been in love with Broda for many years, but now we have waited for such a result, all this is too..."

He couldn't go on, whimpering in pain.He pinched his throat with one hand, desperately suppressing his emotions, and then said: "The pastor knows our secret, if you ask him, he will definitely tell you that she is an angel on earth, so the pastor sent a message I came back as soon as the newspaper told me of her misfortune. Baggage and Africa mean nothing to me, Mr. Holmes, and at this point you know the clues to my course of action. .”

"Go on," my friend told him.

Dr. Sturdell took out a paper package from his pocket and put it on the table. On the paper were written the words "Radix Pedis Diaboli" (Devil's Foot Root), with a red mark underneath, indicating that it was poisonous.

He handed me the packet, and said: "Watson, I know you are a doctor. Have you heard of this reagent?"

"Devil's feet! No, I've never heard of it." I was ashamed of my ignorance.

"You can't blame your expertise," he said, "only one specimen is kept in the laboratory in Buda (place name), and there are no other specimens in the whole of Europe, and there is no record in the pharmacopoeia or drug literature. This kind of root looks like a foot, half like a human foot, half like a sheep's foot. Therefore, a missionary who specializes in medicinal materials gave it this interesting name. In some parts of West Africa, witch doctors use it as a trial sentence It is a legal experimental poison and kept strictly. I obtained this rare specimen in the Ubangui area under extremely special circumstances."

As he spoke, he opened the paper bag, which contained a heap of yellow powder like snuff.

"And what else, Mr. Studdale?" asked Holmes gravely.

"Mr. Holmes, let me tell you everything. You know a great deal, and the matter is obviously connected with me, and the whole situation should be told to you. I have told you about my relationship with the Trekens family. I got on well with the brothers, all because of their sister, and they quarreled over money, which alienated Mortick from everyone, but made up. He's very sinister and calculating, and I'm sure He had doubts, but there was no reason to have a direct quarrel with him.

"One day two weeks ago, he came to the place where I lived, and I showed him some African curios, and this medicinal powder, and I told him its strange effect, and told him what the medicine would do. Stimulate the nerve centers that govern fear. He also told him that when some unfortunate natives in Africa were persecuted by the tribal priest trial sentence, they were frightened to death or mad, and European scientists at that time had no way to test and analyze it.

"I don't understand how he stole this powder, because I never left the house, but it may be that when I opened the cupboard and stooped to rummage through the box, he stole part of the devil's foot. He kept asking me The amount and time to produce the effect, I did not expect him to be ill-intentioned at the time.

"I didn't think about it until I got a telegram from the vicar in Plymouth. The bastard thought I must have gone to sea before I heard the news, and he thought I would be in Africa for a few years. No word from him so he can go completely unsanctioned, but I came back as soon as I heard the news. From these details, you can conclude that he used the poison he stole from me. I came to you, I hope you There can be other explanations for this, but there is absolutely no other explanation. I am convinced that Mortik Trekens is the murderer. The only heir to the family. He can take the fortune all to himself, so he used the devil's foot, which made his two brothers sick and his sister dead. Oh, Broda, my beloved, and the one who loves me the most. I I know it's true, but can I convince a jury of my fellow countrymen that this quaint story is true? Maybe I can, maybe I can't, but I can't fail, I must avenge my beloved Broda, my The heart demands my vengeance. I told you, Mr. Holmes, that I have not been under the law for the greater part of my life. I have my own laws, and I will use my own laws to punish this villain.

"I made up my mind to make him pay the price, and let him experience the misfortune he caused others to suffer. I decided to uphold justice myself. Now, no one cares more about my own life than I do.

"I told you everything, and you know everything else. As you said, I couldn't sleep all night. I left the house early in the morning. I expected it would be difficult to wake him up, so I mentioned it from you. I grabbed some stones from the pile of stones and prepared to knock on his window. After he went downstairs, he told me to go in through the window. I exposed him to his face. For him, finding him was both a judge and an execution. This scoundrel fell into a chair. He saw that I had a gun in my hand, and he was paralyzed with fright. I lit the lamp and sprinkled the powder, and stood outside the window. If he escaped, I shot him dead. In five minutes he was dead, oh god, he was dead! But I was not relenting, for he suffered and suffered exactly as my beautiful and innocent love had.

"This is my story. Mr. Holmes, if you fell in love with a woman, you may do the same. I have nothing to say now, and I will do whatever you want. You know, I am not afraid of death."

Holmes sat very still, not saying a word.

"What are you going to do?" he asked finally.

"I was going to bury my body in central Africa. I'm only halfway there."

"Then go and finish your other half of the work. I will never stop you. Go!" Holmes said.

Dr. Steddale stood up, gave us a solemn nod of thanks, and hurried away.Holmes handed me a bag of tobacco, and lit his own pipe.

"For a change, non-poisonous smoke is refreshing. You won't object, Watson? There is no need for us to intervene in this case. We are free investigators, and we are free to act. You shouldn't." Go and expose him?"

"Of course not," I said.

"Watson, I have never had the experience of loving and being loved. If I had, if something happened to my beloved woman, I would definitely ignore the existence of the law like a lion hunter. I would definitely..."

"There are cases, Watson, which are so obvious that I shall not repeat them, so as not to upset you. The pebbles in the Vicarage's garden are peculiar, and are the starting point of the study, the lamps burning during the day, and the powders left on the lamp-shades. are the other two keys on this thread. My dear friend, I am now free from this matter, and can safely go back to the roots of the Chaldean language." The Death of a Spy

At nine o'clock in the evening, it was the second day of August—the most terrible August in the history of the world. The weather was hot and dry, and people were full of terror, but hopelessly silent. God-fearing curse on this increasingly depraved world.The sun has already set, but its afterglow still burns the colorful clouds in the sky red.The stars were twinkling in the sky, and on the sea, the lights of the ships flickered in the dark bay.

At this moment, two well-known Germans were standing by the stone railing of a garden walk, behind which was a long row of low, dilapidated small houses.They breathed a long sigh of relief, looking at the yellow beach under the cliff in the distance.Four years ago V. Poka had perched on this cliff, like a hungry wandering eagle.While they were smoking, they talked in a low voice, and the two cigars glowed red, like the eyes of the devil in hell, revealing the fierce light, spying on everything in the world.Plot plots at any time, ready to create terror.

One of the many spies serving the German Kaiser, Fur Bocca was quite good and possessed extraordinary abilities.It is precisely for this reason that he was sent to the UK as the backbone of espionage to perform an extremely important task.

It was through this mission that those in the know saw his brilliance more clearly.One of them was the man standing beside him - Baron von Heller, First Secretary of the Legation.The baron's [-]-horsepower Benz car was parked on a country road not far away, ready to take its owner to London.

"If nothing else happens," the baron touched his chin, "you may be able to return to Berlin this week." After a pause, he continued: "Dear friend, you may be surprised when you get there, because you will be treated with special care." Welcome, the highest authority in the country attaches great importance to your work. I have also heard a little bit about this." The baron is tall, with broad shoulders and thick chest, and a calm voice, which played a key role in his political career.

Von Poca laughed.

"It's very easy to deceive them, just blame them for being too naive." He said.

"I don't think so." The baron lowered his head and said thoughtfully.

"They have strange traditions, so they have strange constraints, so we have to learn to obey them, otherwise we will not see their trap - what they say to a stranger, someone they don't believe They set a trap. Their first impression is gentle, but later, you will encounter sudden serious incidents, and then you will know the limit of your reach. You have to adapt yourself to facts, such as having to comply with their inherent customs."

"You mean 'good manners' stuff?" Fer Poca sighed, as if he'd been through something like that.

"It should be. To be more specific, it is those unimaginable things that they call traditions and we call bad habits and prejudices. I made the biggest mistake once-I think I am qualified to talk about my mistakes. If a person knows my work well, he will know my achievements. At that time, when I first came here, I was invited to a party at the home of a cabinet minister. It could not be called a villa, it was a Louvre, I don't know what the emperor thinks of him. It was a very grand and serious party."

V. Poka nodded. "I know that place. I've been there."

"It was surprising how casual the conversation was, and it goes without saying that I briefed Berlin as a matter of course. Unfortunately, our Prime Minister was so careless that he went on the radio talking about what was being said this time. I know all about it, ah—" said the baron with a sigh.

"Of course they blame you!" V. Poka said flatly.

"Yes, bad luck has befallen me. You don't know what I've suffered this time, and I tell you, their Englishmen are no longer as gentle and honest as sheep in this situation. , spent two years, was left out for two full years, without any achievements. But now, like you are a sportsman—"

"No, no, don't call it posture, posture is contrived, not like me at all, I was born an athlete, naturally from the inside out, I love it." Fer Poca said proudly.

"Well, that's great, you're an old sportsman, 'a great German guy', you can row, play rowing with them, you know polo, play polo with them, put Show your skills and compete with them in various sports. It is said that you have won a four-horse carriage at Olympia, and you have boxed with a young army officer. Amazing, who would have thought of a drunk, nightclub , a fearless lad who hangs around town, a sports-loving gentleman who is the best secret service in Europe? No one would have guessed that this peaceful country home would be a center for half of the UK's sabotage It's all done here. Genius! My dear V. Poka is a real genius!" laughed the Baron.

"Thank you, baron, but I'm sure I haven't wasted my time in the past four years. You don't know, I have a small warehouse, go in and have a look."

They climbed the steps and walked through the living room to a small wooden door. V. Pocca pushed the door open and went in to turn on the light. The tall baron followed.Fu Pocara lowered the thick curtains to cover the room airtightly, without any light showing. After taking all precautions, he turned to face the guests.

"Some documents have been transferred," he said. "My wife and family members left here yesterday and went to Fulixi. They took away those unimportant documents. I asked the embassy to keep other important documents."

"Don't worry, your name has been included in the private attache list of the embassy. You and your luggage are fine. Of course, we don't have to leave. Britain may leave France alone and leave it to its fate. We speculate that between Britain and France No binding treaty has been signed."

"What about Belgium?"

"It should be the same."

V. Pocca shook his head and said, "I don't know how this works. There is a signed treaty there. Belgium may never get rid of this humiliation."

"At least she will have peace for a while."

"What about her honor?"

"Hmph!" the baron sneered, "we live in an age of utilitarianism, sir, and honor is a thing of the past, and that notion belongs to the old medieval. Besides, it is unimaginable that England had no other preparations. You know , our war tax is as high as 5000 million, everyone can see what we are trying to do, it is as obvious as an advertisement in The Times, it is on the 'front page news', and the British have not yet woken up from their dreams, This is unbelievable. People in China are also speculating on this question, and my task is to find the answer. In addition, we can also see that there is a resentment against us everywhere, and my task is to calm these grievances, but it seems impossible. Nobody believes a man who tramples to death while reciting scriptures. But I am sure that they are not prepared in certain important matters, such as the stockpiling of munitions, the equipping of submarines, the manufacture of high explosives, etc. Especially our The Irish Civil War was provoked, and there was a mess inside, and Britain couldn't take care of itself, how could it participate in the war?"

"She really has to think about her own future."

"This may be another matter. I think we will have a clear plan for Britain in the near future. Maybe your intelligence will be extremely important to us. For Britain, this will happen sooner or later. Any day will do, and we are all ready to attack England. Tomorrow we will be better prepared, and then England must be wiser not to fight with her allies. Leave him alone, that's none of our business. Their fate will be decided this week, and we'll move on to your papers." He sat leisurely in a chair with a deep purple flowered cloth cover, smoking a cigar, and the smoke From time to time, it comes out of the nostrils, just like a legendary fire-breathing dragon breathing fire.

There were curtained bookshelves all around the study, and V. Poka removed one of them, revealing a large brass safe.He took a key from the fob, fiddled with the combination, put the key in, and with a click, the door swung open.

"Look," he said.

The baron looked at the rows of sorting shelves in the large safe, and there were many labels on them. He squatted down and carefully read the titles on them, "Port Defense Aircraft Base", "Portsmouth Fortress", etc., each box was full documents and plans.

"It's not easy!" said the baron, his long-unsmoked cigar already extinguished.

"I got these in four years, Baron. Not a bad job for a wandering, drinking squire! But my treasure is coming soon, and I've got a place for it." He pointed to a bookshelf labeled "Naval Signals."

"Isn't there a document here?"

"Well, that's what I managed to get, but the Admiralty was too cunning and changed all the codes, and they became useless papers. This was a major blow, the worst of all my campaigns, and all previous efforts were wasted. But , Fortunately, I have a passbook and a good assistant, Ali Timon, and it will come to a successful conclusion tonight."

The baron let out a sigh, as if a little disappointed.

"I don't want to wait anymore, you know, we are all in our place, we have to do our job, and we have to be on time. I hoped to bring the news of this great success, but it's too late. Didn't Ali Timon say the specific time? ?”

"Look at this telegram." Fer Poca opened the telegram:

Be sure to bring spark plugs tonight.

Alitimon
"What spark plug?"

(End of this chapter)