Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 2

Chapter 14 Memoirs 14
"Well, we saw some very interesting things. First, we saw the unfortunate body, who did die from a gunshot wound."

"Then what doubts do you have?"

"Well, it would be better to examine everything, and my reconnaissance was not in vain. We had interviews with Mr. Cunningham and his son, as they were able to point out the exact spot where the murderer had fled over the garden fence. is very important."

"Of course."

"We saw the poor man's mother again, but she was old and infirm and we couldn't get any information from her."

"So, what was the result of your investigation?"

"The result is that I am convinced that the crime is singular. I think we both agree that it is very important that the time written on this piece of paper in the deceased's hand is exactly the time of his death."

"That gives us a clue, Mr. Holmes."

"That does give us a clue. The man who wrote the note was the man who asked William Kirwan to get up at that hour. But where's the other half?"

"I patiently and carefully searched the grounds hoping to find it," the officer added.

"It was torn from the hands of the dead. Why would anyone want it in such a hurry? Because it would prove his guilt. After tearing it off, he stuffed it in his pocket, probably not noticing that a corner of the paper was still scratched. In the hands of the dead. It would be of great help to us in unraveling this mystery if we could get hold of the torn piece of paper."

"Yes, but how can you get it out of the criminal's pocket if the criminal is not caught?"

"Ah, ah, that's certainly something to think about. Also, the note is for William, and the person who wrote it wouldn't have handed it to him. Who, then, brought the note to the dead man? Perhaps By the post office?"

"I have checked, yesterday afternoon, William received a letter, but he destroyed the envelope." The police officer said.

"Excellent!" cried Holmes, patting the Inspector on the back. "It is a pleasure to work with you. Well, this is the servant's quarters, Colonel, and I will show you the scene of the crime if you wish." look."

We came to a handsome old Queen Anne house with the date of its construction engraved on the lintel.A policeman stood by the kitchen door.

"Open the door, sir," said Holmes. "Well, it is on the stairs that Mr. Cunningham Jr. saw those two wrestling, and that is where we stand. Old Mr. Cunningham was standing there." Saw the guy at the second window from the left just run to the left of the bush. They both mentioned the bush. Then Mr. Alec came out and knelt beside the wounded man, and you see, the ground here is too It was hard and didn't leave us the slightest trace." Just as he was speaking, two people walked up the path in the garden.One was older, with a resolute face, deep wrinkles, and melancholy eyes; the other was a well-dressed young man with a lively expression, in sharp contrast to the case for which we came.

"Are you still investigating the matter?" he said to Holmes. "I think you Londoners will not fail. But it seems unlikely that you will be able to solve the case anytime soon."

"Well, you must give us some time," replied Holmes cheerfully.

"It's necessary for you," said Alec Cunningham, "I, I don't see any clue at all."

"There's only one clue," replied the policeman. "I think we'll just have to find out... Oh, my God! What's the matter, Mr. Holmes?"

My poor friend suddenly assumed a terrible expression, his eyes were rolled up, and his face was distorted with pain.He fell face down to the ground.His sudden onset, and its severity, really startled us.We hastily lifted him to a large chair in the kitchen, and he took a few breaths and stood up, ashamed and sorry for being so weak.

"To take you home in my carriage?" asked old Cunningham.

"Well, now that I'm here, there's one thing I want to make clear."

"What is it?"

"Well, I think that poor William's arrival probably came after the burglar came into the house, rather than before the fellow came in."

"That's all too obvious," said old Mr. Cunningham gravely. "Well, my son Alec was up at the time, and if anyone moved he must have heard it."

"Where was he sitting?"

"I was smoking in the locker room."

"Excuse me, which window is the dressing room?"

"The last door on the left, next to my father's bedroom."

"That is, the lights were still on in both of your rooms?"

"Correct."

"Now there are a few odd points," said Holmes, smiling. "Isn't it true that an experienced thief, knowing by the light that there are at least two sleepless persons in the house, would still try to break into the house?" Strange? I thought he must be a cool-witted veteran."

"Oh, of course, if the case were not strange, we would not have consulted you," said Mr. Alec Cunningham dryly; "but you say the thief was in the kitchen before William came into the kitchen." I found this room absurd to me. There was no mess in the room, and nothing was found missing."

"It depends," continued Holmes, "and please don't forget what kind of robber we are dealing with, and he is very good."

"Well, we entrust everything to you, Mr. Holmes," said old Mr. Cunningham. "Everything is at the discretion of you and the Inspector."

"In the first place," said Holmes, "I would like to ask you for a reward, as it may take some time for the official to agree to pay this amount, and it is unlikely to be done quickly. I have already made a draft. If If you have no objection, please sign it, I think fifty pounds is enough."

"I would offer five hundred pounds," said the magistrate, taking the paper and pencil from Holmes, "but that is not quite right," added old Mr. Cunningham, scanning the manuscript.

"I was writing in too much haste."

"You see what you wrote at the beginning: 'Given that there was an attempted robbery at a quarter to three on Tuesday morning,' etc., but actually it happened at a quarter to eleven."

Holmes was evidently distressed at the mistake, for Holmes was always embarrassed by such omissions.Getting the facts right is his forte.But the recent illness has tormented him enough, and his body is far from being recovered.It was obvious that he was embarrassed.The officer raised his eyebrows, and Alec Cunningham laughed.The old gentleman immediately corrected the mistake, and returned the paper to Holmes.

"Send it off for a copy," said old Mr. Cunningham. "I think your method is very clever."

Holmes carefully clipped the paper in his notebook.

"Now," said he, "we'd better go over the grounds together, and see if it's true that the queer thief hasn't stolen anything."

Before entering the room, Holmes examined the broken door carefully.Apparently a chisel or a sturdy pocket knife had been inserted in and the lock had been broken.We can clearly see the marks left on the wood after the sharps were driven in.

"Don't you use bolts?" asked Holmes suddenly.

"We didn't think it was necessary."

"So do you have a dog?"

"If you keep it, you can tie it to the other side of the house."

"When do the servants usually go to bed?"

"About ten o'clock."

"I heard that William usually goes to bed at this time?"

"Yes."

"It is strange that he was up on the very night when it happened. Now, I should be very glad if you would agree to show us the house, Mr. Cunningham."

We went straight to the second floor of the house.We ascended the landing.On the opposite side, there is another more beautiful staircase leading to the vestibule.Directly across this landing are the drawing-room and several bedrooms, among them Mr. Cunningham's and his son's.Holmes walked unhurriedly, staring at the pattern of the house.He was following a lead closely.

"I say, sir," said old Mr. Cunningham, with some impatience, "that is obviously a very unnecessary thing. I ask you: if the burglar came upstairs, and neither of us was aware of it, it might ?"

"I feel that you should look around the house for new clues." Little Cunningham smiled sinisterly.

"I would also like to ask you to give me a little more time, for, for example, I should like to know how far I can see from a bedroom window. This is your son's bedroom," said Holmes, pushing the door open. The dressing-room where he was smoking when the alarm was issued! Where does its window face?" Holmes pushed open the door and looked carefully into the other room.

"I suppose you should be satisfied now?" said Mr. Cunningham bitterly.

"Thanks, I think I've seen it all."

"Then, if you think it necessary, you may come and see in my room."

"If it doesn't bother you, then go!"

The sheriff shrugged and led us into his bedroom.This is an ordinary room.As we made our way towards the window, Holmes walked so slowly that we both fell behind the others.On the bedside table stood a plate of oranges and a glass of water, which Holmes deliberately knocked down as I passed the bed.The glass bottle shattered and the fruit rolled everywhere.

"Look at what you have done, Watson," said Holmes calmly, "how dirty you have made the carpet."

I bent down to pick the fruit in a hurry, and I knew my friend wanted me to take responsibility for a reason.Others also helped the table up while picking fruit.

"Ouch!" exclaimed the inspector. "Where has he been?"

Holmes was gone.

"Wait here, everyone," said Alec Cunningham, "I think this man is a little out of order, Father, let's see where he goes!"

They rushed out the door, and the officer, the colonel, and I remained in the room bewildered.

"I agree with the master," said the inspector, "that it is almost the result of his illness, but I think--"

Suddenly there was a scream: "Come here! Come here! Kill someone!" I couldn't help but feel terrified.I rushed frantically from the room to the landing, and the shouting became a hoarse, inarticulate shout from the room we had entered in the first place.I went straight in and ran all the way to the innermost locker room.The Cunninghams were pinning Sherlock Holmes to the ground, young Cunningham was putting his hands around his throat, and old Cunningham seemed to be twisting one of his wrists.The three of us immediately pulled them away from Holmes, who stood up unsteadily, pale and evidently exhausted.

"Arrest these two at once, Inspector," said Holmes breathlessly.

"What crime?"

"The charge is the murder of their coachman, William Kirwan."

The Inspector stared blankly at Holmes.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," said the Inspector at last, "I don't think you really mean--"

"Well, sir, look at their faces," cried Holmes.

(End of this chapter)