Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter 83 Memoirs (17)
I had never heard of the club, and Holmes read it from my expression. He took out his watch and said, "Diogenes is the queerest club in London, and my brother is the strangest of them all." Odd guy. He's there every day from 45:[-]pm to [-]:[-]pm. It's six o'clock and if you're willing to go for a walk on a nice evening I'd love to tell you about these two 'rare' things .”

Five minutes later, we were on the street, heading towards Regens' Circus.

"You must wonder why Mycroft didn't become a detective when he has such a talent, but he can't do it."

"But I heard you say..."

"I'm just saying that he's better at observation and reasoning than I am. If detective work was all about sitting around and reasoning, my brother would be the best detective in the world. But he has neither the desire nor the energy to learn to be a detective. He didn't even bother to prove his reasoning was correct, and would rather be considered absurd than prove it. Moreover, if he was required to produce evidence before a case went to a judge or jury, he would Totally blind."

"So he didn't do detective work?"

"True. The detective work which I earn a living from is only a hobby to him. He is good at mathematics, and is in charge of audits and audits between government departments. He lives in Pall Mall Street, Whitehall (Whitehall is the British Government The office - Translator's Note) was just around the corner from it. He left early and returned late every day, walking to work in Whitehall. If there was no activity, he almost never went anywhere else, except for the Diogenes Club, which was opposite his residence. "

"I have never heard of such a club."

"You probably don't know. In London, there are some people, some naturally shy, some complaining, they don't like to socialize with other people, but they like to sit in a comfortable place and read the latest magazine. In order to satisfy their Need, and the Diogenes Club was born, which accepted the least gregarious part of the town. There, members were not allowed to speak to each other, except in the drawing room. If a man committed three fouls and caused a slap from the club committee Watch out, he'll be fired. My brother was one of the founders of the club and personally I feel very comfortable there."

As we walked and talked, we came to the end of James Street and entered Pall Mall.Holmes stopped at a door not far from Carleton Hall, told me not to speak, and led me into the hall.From the glass on the door, you can see the luxurious and spacious room inside. Many people sit and read newspapers inside, but each sits in a corner.

He took me into a room overlooking Pall Mall and went out.After a while another person was ushered in. I recognized him at a glance. He must be Holmes' brother.

Mycroft was tall and stout, with a broad face, but in some respects he resembled his brother, with the same sharp features.His eyes were bright, gray, and watery, and seemed always to be absorbed in thought.It was that familiar expression I always saw when Holmes was thinking.

He held out a generous hand and said: "It's a great honor to meet you, sir. It's your work that has made Sherlock famous. By the way, Sherlock, I thought you'd come to talk to me last week. What about the manor house case. Maybe you need my help?"

My friend smiled and said, "On the contrary, that case has been satisfactorily closed."

"It must have been Adams."

"Yes, it's him."

"I thought it was him at first." They sat down by the oriel window of the club, and Mycroft said: "It's a good place to watch a man. Look, take those two to us. What a good example for those who come here!"

"Are you talking about the billiard marker and the people around him?"

"Yes, how do you analyze them?"

At this time, the two people just walked across the window.One of them, I found, had chalk marks on its vest pocket, characteristic of a pinball game.The other was dark and thin, with a hat pushed back and several shopping bags tucked under his arm.

"I think he's a veteran," Sherlock said.

His brother said: "And he was recently discharged from the army."

"He served in India."

"Still a sergeant."

Sherlock added: "He's in the Royal Artillery."

"He lost his wife."

"And only one child."

"Not one, my dear brother, I think he has several children."

I smiled and said, "Oh, come on, this is too mysterious for me."

Sherlock smiled and said, "It's not difficult to see. He looks mighty, and his skin is obviously exposed to the sun for a long time, which is enough to show that he is a soldier, and he is not an ordinary soldier. He has just returned from India."

Mycroft added: "He's still wearing those 'artillery boots', which means he's just been discharged."

"He's not a cavalryman from the way he walks. His cap may often have to be worn on one side, so he's lighter on one side of the brow than the other. He's also not the right weight for a sapper, so he's an artilleryman."

"You can see from his very sad expression that he has just lost the person he loves the most. He wants to go out and buy things by himself to prove that there is no wife at home. Look at the things he bought for the children. A rattle shows that he has a A very young child, his wife may have died after giving birth, and there is a little book under his arm, indicating that he still has a child."

At this time, I knew that Sherlock's brother's observation was indeed more keen than Sherlock's.Sherlock glanced at me and smiled slightly.Mycroft drew snuff from a tortoiseshell case, and brushed the dust off himself with a red silk scarf.

Mycroft said: "By the way, Sherlock, there is a case for you. I am working on a curious case which I would like to get to the bottom of, but I have no energy for. This is a good opportunity to exercise your powers of reasoning. , if you will listen to..."

"My dear brother, I would love to hear it very much."

Mycroft tore a page from his notebook, scribbled something hastily, rang the bell, and handed the paper to the waiter.

He said: "I have sent for Mr. Melas. He lives above me. We know him very well. He usually comes to me when he is in trouble. As far as I know, Mr. Melas is of Greek descent." , masters several languages. Half of his total income comes from being an interpreter at the courts, and the other half from being a guide to Orientals at the generous Northumberland Street Inn. I think he should be allowed to personally relate his adventures to You listen."

A few minutes later a thick, short man entered the room where we were.His face was olive-coloured, his hair very black, and he looked like a Southern European.But listening to him sound like a well-educated Englishman.He shook hands with Holmes cordially, and his eyes shone with delight at the news that the expert wanted to hear about his adventures.

He said despondently: "The police don't believe my story because they have never heard of such a thing. But I know that if I don't know what happened to the man with the sticking plaster on his face, I will have a hard time. .”

"Go ahead," said Holmes. "We are all interested to hear."

Mr. Melas said: "Tonight is Wednesday, so it happened on Monday night, two days ago. Maybe my neighbors told you too. I can handle it. But since I was born in Greece and have a Greek name, I still translate the most Greek. Over the years I have gradually become the best Greek translator in London and hotels know my name.

"Foreigners who are in trouble, or tourists who arrive too late, are always on call for me to be an interpreter. I am used to it. So, on a Monday night, when a very fashionable young man, Mr. Latimer I didn't think much of it when he came to my house and asked me to go out with him in a carriage waiting outside. He told me that he had a Greek friend who was going to visit him, but he knew nothing but English. , so an interpreter is needed. He said he lived a long way from here, in Kensington. He seemed in a hurry, for as soon as I got to the carriage he pushed me into it.

"As soon as I got into the carriage, I was puzzled, because I found that it was not an ordinary carriage. It was very spacious, and the interior decoration, although worn, was still very elegant, and it was not at all like a common London carriage. Ratty Mr. Mo sat across from me. The car passed Charing Cross Road, quickly entered Sifdesbury Street, and then turned into Oxford Street. When I was about to tell them to take this detour, I was shocked by the strange behavior of my companion. broken.

"He took out a scary short stick from his arms, one end was bigger, as if filled with lead, and danced it in the air a few times, as if to show its power, and then silently put it on the seat beside him Then, he closed the glass windows on both sides. To my surprise, the windows were all pasted with paper, deliberately preventing me from seeing the outside.

"'I am very sorry to have blocked your view, Mr. Melas, because I do not want you to know where we are going. It will be very bad for us if you return the same way.' He said nonchalantly.
"It's conceivable how surprised I was by this statement. He's a big and thick guy, even if I don't have a weapon, I can't beat him.

"I stammered: 'That's disrespectful, Mr Latimer, and you know it's illegal for you to do it.'

"He said: 'It's certainly, and it is, very rude. However, we will make it up to you. But I will tell you that if you try to call the police or do anything else against us tonight, your safety is at your fingertips. No security. I remind you that no one knows where you are now, and you cannot escape, either in the carriage or in my house.'

"His tone was still calm, but it was full of threats. I had to sit silently, wondering why they would kidnap me. But, no matter what, I knew that resistance would not help, and I had to play by ear.

"I walked for about two hours, and I didn't know where I was. Sometimes the carriage was walking on the stone road, making a rattling sound, and sometimes it was walking on the asphalt road, calm and quiet. Along the way, I couldn't hear anything except these sounds. Yes. The paper on the window blocked the light, and the front window was blocked by blue curtains. We started at [-]:[-], and when we stopped again, it was already [-]:[-]. The fellow car Opening the glass window, I saw a low arched door with a lamp hanging on it. The door opened, and I jumped out of the carriage and followed him into the yard. A large lawn lined with trees, but I'm not sure if that's a private yard or the country.

"There was a colorful kerosene lamp in the hall, but the flame was very small. I only noticed that the house was spacious and there were some paintings hanging in it. I saw nothing but these. A middle-aged man stood under the dim light , he is short, ugly, with hunched shoulders. When he turned around, I found that he was wearing glasses.

"He asked: 'Is Mr. Melas here?'

"'yes.'

"'Very well! We mean no harm, Mr. Melas, but we can't do without you. If you're honest, you'll be worth the trip, but if you play tricks, God bless you! For that , You might as well not be born.' His voice was a little trembling, and there were a few sneers mixed in. I don't know why, but he gave me a scarier impression than that young man.

"He opened the door as he spoke, and led me into a large and luxurious room. When I entered, there were soft carpets under my feet, which showed that it was unusually decorated. However, one of the lights in the room was still dim. I still Found soft chairs covered in velvet, a tall white marble mantelpiece, and a pair of Japanese armor. There was a chair under the lamp, and the middle-aged man motioned for me to sit down. The young man went out first, but soon came in through another door , leading a man in a baggy pajamas. When he approached the light, I saw that his face was so terrifying. His face was ashen and haggard, only two eyes were bright and protruding, showing that he The situation is not too bad. And what surprised me the most is that his face is covered with strange plaster in a mess, and he has a large piece of gauze plaster stuck to his mouth.

"As the eccentric slumped in the chair, the older man asked: 'Is the slate brought, Harold? Has his hand been let go? Yes, hand him a pen. Melas Would you please ask him a few questions, sir, and let him write down his answers. First, would you ask him if he intends to sign?'

"The man stared angrily.

"He wrote 'no' on the slate in Greek.

"As I was ordered, I asked again: 'Is there any room for negotiation?'

"'Unless I see a Greek priest whom I know as witnesses for her wedding, there is no other choice.'

"The older guy laughed viciously and said: 'Well, do you know where you end up?'

"'I don't care about anything.'

"The above question and answer are just a few paragraphs in this conversation. I have asked him countless times whether he is willing to compromise and sign the document, and every time I get the same firm answer. Suddenly, I have It's a bold idea to add my own questions every time I ask him. At the beginning, I asked some irrelevant questions, trying to test whether the two people could understand. I found that they didn't respond, and then I asked Ask boldly.

"Our conversation went something like this:

"'You're no good being stubborn. Who are you?'

"'It doesn't matter. I'm in London for the first time.'

"'Your fate is in your own hands. How long have you been here?'

"'Whatever you want. About three weeks.'

"'These estates will never be yours again. How did they torment you?'

"'I won't let it fall to you rascals. They won't let me eat.'

"'If you will sign it, you will be free. What is this place?'

"'I will never sign. I don't know.'

"'Don't you think of her? What's your name?'

"'I will believe it only if she tells me herself. Clantiette.'

"'If you sign, you can meet her. Where are you from?'

"'Then I would rather not see her. Athens.'

"Give me five more minutes, Mr. Holmes, and it may be possible to clarify the matter. I may solve the mystery by asking one more question, but at this moment a woman walked in. I didn't see her face clearly. I think she has a slender figure, black hair, and is wearing fat and big white pajamas.

"The woman said in broken English: 'Harold, I can't stay here any longer, it's too boring to just... God, this is Paul!'

"She spoke the last two sentences in Greek. Before the words fell, the man tore off the gauze from his mouth forcefully, and cried out: 'Sophie! Sophie!' As he spoke, he threw himself on the woman. But he only hugged her. In a few seconds, the young man pushed the woman out of the door. The older man easily grabbed the victim and dragged him out through another door. I was the only one left in the room at this time, so I quickly stood up. I got up and tried to find some clues to see where this was. Fortunately, I didn't have time to act, because I looked up and saw the older man, who was standing in the doorway and staring at me.

"He said: 'Well, Mr. Melas, you know we don't treat you as an outsider, we don't shy away from you even in private matters. We had a Greek-speaking friend at first, and we asked him for help, but Then he had to go on some urgent business, or I would not bother you. We are honored, and I heard that your Greek is very good.'

"I just nodded.

"He came up to me and said: 'Here's five pounds, I think that's enough for you.' Then he patted me again, smiled and said: 'But remember. If You tell this to anyone else, just wait and let God bless you.'

"This ugly man disgusted and frightened me. When the light shone on him, I could see his face clearly. He had a very haggard face, a small sparse beard, and he always put his face forward when he spoke. , his lips and eyelids quivered, like a patient with chorea. I immediately thought that his weird laughter was indeed a bit neurotic. The most terrifying thing was his eyes, which were cold and cold from beginning to end. Cruel light.

"He went on: 'If you give the matter away, we shall have easy access to the news. There is a carriage waiting at the door, and my companion will see you off.'

"I hurried across the vestibule to get into the carriage, taking another look at the surroundings. Mr. Latimer, who had been following me, sat opposite me again when he got into the carriage. Again we began our 'relatively wordless' It was a long journey. The windows were still blocked, and the car didn't stop until midnight.

"The young man said; 'Get out of the carriage, Mr. Melas. I'm sorry to be so far from your house, but we can't help it. If you dare to follow the carriage, it will be very bad for you.'

"He opened the car door as he spoke. As soon as I jumped down, the coachman drove the carriage away quickly. I looked around and found that I was in the wilderness, surrounded by bushes, and there was a row of houses in the distance , a light came out of the window. On the other side, I saw the red signal light of the railway.

"The carriage that brought me had long since disappeared. I stood there blankly, looking around, desperately trying to identify the direction. At this moment, a figure walked towards me. I only saw it clearly when I passed by. It was a railway porter. .

"I asked, 'Where is this, please?'

"He said: 'The Wandsworth Common.'

"'Is there a train to town here?'

"He said: 'If you walk another mile and you get to Clapham Junction, you can catch the last train to Victoria.'

"And thus concludes my adventure. Apart from what has been said, Mr. Holmes, I know neither where I have been nor with whom I have spoken. I only know that there is a crime going on." I tried to help the poor man as best I could. I told Mycroft the next morning, and then called the police."

After hearing this bizarre experience, we were all silent.Sherlock looked at his brother, and said: "Have measures been taken?"

Mycroft picked up the Daily News from the case, and it read:

Here is a Greek gentleman, Paul Krantit, from Athens, who does not know English.Another Greek woman, Sophie, is missing.Anyone who knows, please let me know, thank you very much, number X2473.

(End of this chapter)