Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter 37 Adventure History (15)
"Then let him go back in the car! Don't worry, he obviously doesn't have the strength to cause trouble anymore. I advise you to write a note to tell your wife that we have started to cooperate on a matter again. Then you wait outside for me, I'll come to you in five minutes." It was always difficult for me to refuse any request from Holmes.Besides, as long as I get Whitney safely into the carriage, the task is considered complete, and the rest of the time, I am happy to go on adventures with old friends.This kind of thing is simply commonplace for him.After a while, I wrote a note to explain my whereabouts, and helped Whitney pay the debt, and then I took him out, and watched him leave in the carriage.Soon, an old man came out of an opium den, and we walked down the street together.Hunched and unsteady, he staggered down two streets, then took a quick look around before standing up straight.We both couldn't help laughing.

"I suppose, Watson, that you must be thinking now that injections of cocaine are barely tolerable from a medical point of view, so how can you add to your opium habit now?"

"Of course I was surprised to find you in that damn place."

"I'm more surprised than you, aren't you there too?"

"I'm looking for a friend."

"But I'm going to find an enemy."

"enemy?"

"Yes, a natural enemy, and may soon be called one of my prey. Watson, in short, I am currently investigating a strange case, and I want to find clues from the mouths of those addicts. I have done it before. Similar things, if the people in the smokehouse recognize me, I will die. The Indian man, who is the rogue who runs the smokehouse, once threatened to take revenge on me, because I went to the smokehouse to investigate before. Paul There's a house on the corner of the pier, and there's a trap door behind the house, and there's a lot of stories in there, and on dark and stormy nights, something gets sent through there."

"What! Do you mean corpses?"

"Yes, Watson, that opium-house kills a lot, and we get a thousand pounds for every smoker killed. If we get that money, we will be rich. The most dangerous conspiracy along the river That's where money got killed. I reckon Neville St. Clair went in and never came out. We set our trap here." He put his forefinger between his lips, and blew a loud whistle, The same whistle sounded in the distance.A sound of wheels and horseshoes came from a distance.

"Would you like to go out with me now, Watson?" he asked.

At this time, a two-wheeled carriage drove out of the darkness, and the chandeliers on both sides shot out two yellow lights.I said, "If I can help."

"Trustworthy friends can always help, not to mention writing notes. I have two beds in my room in Shanyuan."

"Cedar Garden?"

"Yes, lived there during the investigation of the case. It was Mr. St. Clair's house."

"where?"

"In Kent, which is very close to Lee Town, we have to travel about twenty miles."

"I don't know anything."

"Of course, but you'll know all about it soon. Come on up! Come on, John, don't bother you. Here's half a crown. See you in the morning. Wait for me at about eleven o'clock. Let go and see you!"

He lightly lashed the horse's whip, and the carriage galloped away.After crossing uninhabited streets, the road gradually widened, and finally passed a bridge with railings on both sides.The dark river flows under the bridge, and the bank stretches beyond it into a monotonous wasteland covered with piles of bricks and plaster. There is silence all around, only the heavy and regular footsteps of the patrolmen occasionally breaking the silent night.Groups of scattered clouds slowly drifted across the sky, and a few stars shone faintly in the gaps in the clouds.Accompanied by the occasional singing and shouting of revelers who do not want to return, the carriage moves forward quietly.Holmes remained silent all the time, with his head bowed, as if in deep thought. I sat by and dared not disturb him, although I was eager to know why the circumstances of the case should bother him so much.The carriage has already gone a long way, and the front is the edge of the suburban villa area.Only then did he wake up from his contemplation, shook his body, shrugged his shoulders, lit his pipe, and returned to his relaxed appearance.

"You are a genius for keeping silent, Watson," he said. "That is the prerequisite for you to be a very valuable friend to me. It is very difficult for me to communicate with people because I am not very good at point of view." Convincing. Now I really don't know how to explain it to the lovely little woman who greeted us."

"Don't forget, I don't know anything about it."

"I have enough time to tell you everything before arriving in Lee Town. This case seems simple, but it makes me feel confused, and I can't even figure it out. There is no doubt that there are not many clues, and I can't catch any clues .Now, let me give you the general circumstances of the case, Watson, and you may perhaps show me a ray of light in the darkness."

"Then you can talk about it."

"A few years ago—in May 1884 to be precise, a gentleman named Neville St. Clair came to Lee. He bought a large villa with a very beautiful and luxurious grounds, which shows that he is very rich. Gradually, he made friends with many people around him. In 5, the daughter of a brewer married him, and later gave birth to two children. Although he invested in several companies, he himself No formal occupation. As a rule, he goes into town every morning and returns from Cannon Street by train at 1887:37. Mr. St. Clair is thirty-seven years old, has no vices, is a good husband and father. I have After investigating all his current debts, there are a total of 88 pounds ten shillings. And his savings, the Metropolitan Bank alone has 220 pounds. Therefore, the assumption that he was troubled by financial problems and that something happened may not be valid.

"Last Monday, Mr. St. Clair had two important errands to attend to, plus a box of blocks for his younger son, so he went into town early. Coincidentally, on that very day, after he left home, Soon his wife received a telegram that a small parcel of importance had been sent to the offices of the Aberdeen Transport Company for her to collect. In fact, she had been waiting for this parcel. If you know the streets of London If you do, you will know that the office of the company is in Forsno Street, and that street happens to have a fork between Swan Gate Lane, which is the place where you met me today. Mrs. St. Clair Went into town after lunch, did some shopping at the store and went to pick up the package at the office of the shipping company. At 35:[-] p.m., she happened to be passing through Swan Gate Lane to catch a train at the station, did you hear me clearly?"

"Clear."

"I don't know if you remember, but it was a hot Monday. Mrs. St. Clair looked around as she walked, hoping to find a carriage as soon as possible, because she hated walking in this messy street. When passing Swan Gate Lane, she Suddenly heard a cry, following the sound, she found that her husband was looking down at her from a window on the third floor, as if he was still waving to her. Her husband looked terribly agitated, because the window was open, so she could see his face clearly. He waved at her vigorously, but disappeared in the window in an instant, as if there was an irresistible force Pulling him behind his back, the woman's keen eyes produced a miraculous effect in an instant: she saw an unusual detail. No tie before.

"Thinking something might have happened to her husband, she sprinted up the steps--the house you've been to tonight, the smokehouse I spied. She was blocked by the Indian at the top of the stairs and pushed back. Then a Dane came and they pushed her into the street. She was shocked and rushed out along the alley. On the streets of Fresno, she was very lucky to bump into an inspector and several patrolmen who were on their way to duty. After hearing her story, they returned to the smokehouse with her. Although the owner of the smokehouse insisted They entered the room in which Mr. St. Clair had just been discovered. However, there was no sign of his being there. In fact, there was no one else on that floor, except a strange person. He was limp and hideous, and looked as if he lived there often. Both the chap and the Indian swore that no one had been in the front room on that floor that afternoon. Their denials baffled the inspector for a moment, Thinking that perhaps Mrs. St. Clair had misread it, she suddenly let out a cry and threw herself on a pine box on the table. When she opened it, there rolled out a pile of children's toys and building blocks that her husband had promised to give to her. Toys bought by the son.

"What she found, and the panic shown by the cripple, showed that it was not so simple as they said. The inspector also became suspicious, and searched every house carefully. It turned out that there were indeed serious crimes here. The front room, which serves as a living room, is simply furnished and leads to another small bedroom with its back facing the pier. From the small bedroom, you can see the pier, and there is a long and narrow space between the pier and the windows. Low tide Sometimes the land is dry, but when the tide is high, the river is flooded at least four feet deep. There is a window in the bedroom that opens from the bottom up. During the search, the police found blood on the window frame and on the floor. Mr. St. Clair's boots, socks, hat and watch were found behind a curtain in the house, but not the coat. There was no sign of violence in any of these items, and Mr. St. Clair was missing. Evidently he intended to jump out of the window. , and then escaped by swimming. But it was absolutely impossible at that time, because when the tragedy happened, it was the time when the tide was rising, and it rose to its peak.

"Let's look back at those gangsters who are directly related to this case. Although the reputation of the Indian assan is well known, Mrs. St. Clair said that a few seconds after her husband appeared at the window, the Indian was already waiting at the stairs. She was killed, and therefore he was at best an accomplice in the matter. He repeatedly pleaded that he knew nothing, and that he knew nothing about Hugh Boone, the tenant upstairs. As for the missing Why did the husband's clothes appear in the house, and he couldn't tell why.

"Except for India San, the cripple on the third floor, who must have been the last to see Mr St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and he is known to frequenters of London with his hideous face. He made his living by begging, and in order to avoid police control, he often pretended to be a small wax and match seller. A short walk down Needlework Street, at the foot of a wall on the left, you may have noticed that this beggar sits there all day , with a few boxes of matches in his lap. He put an oil-stained fur hat on the sidewalk beside him. Seeing his pitiful appearance, people often rained small money I threw it into his hat. He attracted my attention. I wanted to know about his begging life. Very rich. You know, everyone who passed him couldn't help but glance at his strange features: a shaggy head of brown-red hair; When the scar shrinks, it will roll up the outer edge of the upper lip; the pug-like chin; the black eyes that contrast sharply with the color of the hair...all these are the differences between him and other beggars. In addition, he Very clever, no matter what junk was thrown at him by passers-by, he would respond calmly and appropriately. We now know that he was the boarder of the smokehouse and the last person who saw the missing gentleman."

I said, "However, how can a disabled person deal with a young and strong man alone?"

"He walks like a disabled man, but he is otherwise strong and well-nourished, unlike ordinary beggars. Your medical experience can also prove that if a person is inflexible in one limb, the other limbs are usually very strong , so as to make up for the shortcomings."

"Go on."

"Mrs. St. Clair fainted after seeing the blood on the window frame, and an inspector drove her home. Because she would interfere with the investigation. The inspector in charge of the case searched all the rooms carefully. Passed, but found nothing in favor of the case. But they neglected to arrest Hugh Boone at once, which gave him a few minutes in collusion with his Indian associates. Fortunately, this The blunder was quickly corrected and Hugh Boone was taken into custody, but nothing had yet been found to convict him. While some blood on the right cuff of his undershirt was suspicious, the fourth finger of his left hand was near a nail He pointed to the wound where the blood had flowed, and said that he had just been to the window, and the blood on the window was in the same way. At the same time, he denied seeing Mr. St. Clair. , and swore that he was as confused as the police by the clothes in the room. He thought Mrs. St. Clair must have been mad, perhaps in a dream, when she said she saw her husband at the window. But he was taken When he arrived at the police station, although he had been protesting, the inspector was still guarding the house, hoping to find new clues after the tide ebbed.

"Excitingly, there was a glimmer of hope. Although they didn't find Neville St. Clair's body on the mudflats, they did find his jacket. It was completely exposed on the sand after low tide. You Guess what I found in his pocket?"

"Can not guess."

"Yes, hard to guess. Every pocket was stuffed with pennies and halfpenny pieces - 420pence and 270 halfpence. No wonder the tide didn't wash away the coat. Yet it is to the human body. It's another thing, every time the tide goes out, the water between the house and the pier is very rough, and the body is likely to be swept away, leaving only this heavy coat."

"However, it was found that all the other clothes of this gentleman were in the house. Was he only wearing a jacket?"

"No, Watson, the matter could be more properly explained. If Boone had pushed Neville St. Clair out of the window without anyone seeing him, he would have immediately wiped out the telltale clothes. Desperate." Under the circumstances, it is a good idea to grab the clothes and throw them into the tide outside the window, but the clothes are so light that they will not sink and will float with the current. At this moment, he has heard the lady quarreling with the Indian, and Maybe he already knew from his accomplices that a group of patrolmen on the street were coming here, so he hardly had much time to think about it. Maybe he suddenly thought of the money from begging, so he rushed to the place where the money was hidden, and grabbed a handful Coins, stuffed in the pockets, so that the clothes sank, and then, when I tried to throw anything else, it was too late, and I had to hastily close the window."

"This explanation sounds plausible, but it's too forced."

"But we can't find a more reasonable hypothesis than that, and let's take it for the time being. As I said, Hugh Boone was in the police station, but the inspector couldn't find any favorable evidence." To prove what crimes he has committed before. Not even a suspect can be found. For a long time, he is just a beggar known to the world.

"His quiet life seems to have done no harm to anyone else, that's the way it is. And the questions that should have been solved have remained a mystery. These questions are: What did Mr. Neville St. Clair do in that smokehouse? Where did he go out?" What happened? Where is he now? What is Hugh Boone's role in this case? I confess: in the past cases I have handled, there are few similar cases. The case seems so simple, but it is actually suspicious Constantly, so hard to check."

While Sherlock Holmes was introducing me to this series of strange events, the carriage had driven us out of the city.Finally, the scattered houses also disappeared.As the carriage drove along a fenced country road, he had just finished speaking as we passed between two villages, and lights shone through the windows of some of the houses.

My companion said: "We are now at the edge of Lee, and it has not been a long journey for us, but we have passed through three counties, from Mittlesex to Surrey. at the corner of the town, and finally to Kent. Do you see the light through the bushes? Fir Park is there. I guess a restless woman is waiting there under the light, listening with worried ears to the sound outside. Nothing. No doubt she has heard our carriage."

"Why not stay in Baker Street and work on the case?"

"Because some reconnaissance must be carried out here. Mrs. St. Clair has kindly prepared two rooms for me. You can rest assured that she will welcome you warmly, because you are my colleague and friend. Watson, we Arrived, and to tell the truth, I was terribly afraid to see her until I knew her husband's whereabouts."

(End of this chapter)