Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 2

Chapter 25 Return 1
In the spring of 1894, the respected Ronald Adel was inexplicably murdered.The details of the case, which were released in the police investigation but with many details removed, are known to all.This is because the reasons for the prosecution are very strong, and it is not necessary to disclose all the evidence.It is only now, some ten years later, that I am allowed to fill in some of the omitted elements of the crime-solving process.While the case itself is intriguing, the unexpected ending is even more intriguing.The outcome of this case was one of the most shocking and surprising to me of the adventures of my life.Let me say a word to the general reader who cares about the snippets of words and deeds of a remarkable man whom I have occasionally spoken of: Don't blame me for not telling you all I know.But he himself ordered me not to do so.The ban was not lifted until the 3rd of last month.

My interest in criminal cases arose from my close association with Sherlock Holmes.Since his disappearance, I have carefully studied all the difficult cases that have been published.But only the mystery of the tragic death of Ronald Adair fascinated me.When I read the evidence presented at the interrogation, which led to the conviction of deliberate murder by an unknown person or persons, I realized more deeply that Holmes' death is indeed a great loss to society.I think there are several things about this oddity that particularly appeal to him.And the best criminal detective in Europe can certainly make up for the lack of police power.Although I was out on rounds all day, the case was always on my mind.I would rather, at the risk of telling an old story, briefly recount what was announced at the conclusion of the trial.

The deceased was the second son of the Earl of Melos, a governor of a colony in Australia.His mother returned to the UK from Australia for cataract surgery and lived with the deceased and her daughter Hilda at 427 Park Road.This young man was a frequenter of high society, and he had neither enemies nor bad habits.He was engaged, but the engagement was broken off by mutual agreement a few months ago.He is indifferent by nature and usually stays in a small, conservative circle.But on March 1894, 3, between 30:10 and 11:20 in the evening, he was suddenly killed.

The deceased, Ronald Adair, was fond of poker, and played it often, but the small stakes did him no harm.He was a member of three card clubs: Baldwin, Cavendish and Baggetl.On the day of his murder, he played a game of whist at the Cavendish Club after dinner.He also played cards there in the afternoon.Everyone's cards were about the same, and Adel lost about five pounds.With considerable property, he would never care about winning or losing the five pounds.He came to this club almost every day to play poker, but he played very carefully and often won only to leave.The testimony also stated that a few weeks earlier he had won Godfrey Milner and Lord Balmoral £420 in a straight match with Colonel Moran.

On the night of the murder, when he returned home from the club at exactly 10 o'clock, his mother and sister went to a relative's house.The maid said she heard Mr. Adair enter the second-floor vestibule—his sitting room.She had built a fire in the room and opened the window because of the smoke.It was very quiet in the house until 11:20 when Mrs. Melouth and her daughter returned.Mrs. Merluth wanted to say good night to her son, but found the door was locked.No matter how much the mother and daughter yelled, no one responded.Someone knocked down the door and found the unfortunate young man lying on the table with a bullet in the head.On the table were some gold and silver coins, piled up in ten small piles of varying numbers.There is also a note with several numbers and the names of some club friends written on it, from which it can be known that he was calculating the winning or losing of playing cards before he was killed.

These field investigations only complicate the case.First, there was no reason why the young man had to lock the door from the inside.Although it is also possible that the murderer inserted the door in order to escape by jumping out of the window.But it was at least thirty feet from the window to the ground, and neither the flowers nor the ground under the window seemed to have been trodden on, and there was nothing left on the grass between the house and the street.So obviously the door was plugged in by the youth.If anyone can put a revolver through a window from the outside, he must be a sharpshooter.In addition, Park Road is a bustling pedestrian road, and there is a carriage stop within a hundred yards nearby.People have been killed here, did no one hear the gunshots? These situations are further complicated by the lack of motive.Moreover, Adel has no enemies, and there is no shortage of valuables in his house.

I considered these facts, and thought that the least troublesome way was the starting point of all the investigations my dead friend had spoken of.Around 6 o'clock I walked to the end of Park Road where it joins Oxford Street.A group of people gathered on the sidewalk stared up at a window.They pointed me to the house I had come to see.One of them, a tall man in dark glasses, probably an undercover detective, was describing some kind of speculation of his own, and the others surrounded him.I squeezed my way in, but his absurd reasoning made me retreat from the crowd in disgust.I didn't want to but bumped into a disabled old man and knocked out a few books in his arms.When I picked up those books, I saw a book called "The Origin of the Cult of the Woods."I do my best to apologize for the accident, but the books I just accidentally knocked off are obviously very precious in the eyes of their owners.He yelled, turned and walked away.

I have looked at 427 Park Road many times, but to no avail. The house is separated from the street by a low wall, five feet high, which is half a fence, and access to the garden is easy.But that window is hard to get to because there's no plumbing or anything in the wall.I found nothing and had to return to Kensington.As soon as I entered the study, the maid came in and said that someone wanted to see me.The visitor was that weird second-hand book collector, with a chiseled face exposed from the gray beard and hair, with at least a dozen of his beloved books under his right arm.

"I didn't expect it to be me, sir." His voice was strange and slightly hoarse.

I never thought it was him.

"I'm sorry. I happened to see you enter this house when I was limping after you just now. I wanted to say sorry for what happened and thank you for picking up the book for me."

"Never mind," I said, "can you tell me how you recognized me?"

"Sir, if I venture to say that I'm your neighbour, I have a little bookshop just around the corner in Church Street. You probably collect books too, sir. I have Birds of England, Cetulus, Holy War "—and each one is cheap. Filling up the gaps on the second shelf of your bookshelf just looks neat, doesn't it, sir?"

I looked back.When I looked back, I saw Sherlock Holmes standing across the desk, smiling at me.I seemed to lose consciousness, for the first and last time in my life.A white mist swirls before my eyes, and when the white mist clears, I find my neckline open and the spicy aftertaste of brandy still on my lips.Holmes was sitting in my chair with the flask that he always carried with him.

"My dear Watson," cried a rather familiar voice, "I am sorry, but I never imagined that you would be so overwhelmed."

I gripped his arms tightly.

"Holmes! Is it really you? Are you not dead? How did you crawl out of that dreadful abyss?" I cried.

He said, "Wait, do you think you're recovered now? Look how thrilled you are by my superfluous miraculous reappearance!"

"I'm all right!" I cried. "Holmes, I can't believe my eyes." I felt my lean, strong arm under my sleeve. "But it's all true, dear friend, I'm so glad to see you. Tell me about your escape from that dreadful ravine," I said excitedly.

He sat down facing me and lit a cigarette leisurely as usual.He was thinner and more alert.But I could see from the pallor of his eagle-like face that he had been living irregularly lately.

"I am very glad to have straightened my waist, Watson," said he; "it is a pain to have a tall man cut off a foot in length for hours at a time. As to the explanation of all this, perhaps I will tell you all Your best time is after a job is done."

"I'd rather be told now."

"Would you like to come with me tonight?"

"Whenever, wherever."

"It's really the same as before. Well, let's talk about the canyon first. I escaped from the canyon miraculously, and the reason is: I didn't fall in at all."

"You didn't fall in at all?"

"Yes, Watson, I did not fall in at all. The note I left you was entirely true, for when I found the sinister-looking Professor Moriarty standing in the narrow lane leading to safety On the road, I was convinced that my end was at hand. So I asked his permission to write the note you later received. There I left the letter, the cigarette case, and the walking stick, and went on along the narrow road, Morrie. Artie followed closely. I got to the end and there was nowhere to go. He didn't draw a weapon, but suddenly ran to hug me, he knew everything was over for him, and he wanted revenge on me. We twisted into a ball. But I know a little bit of Japanese taekwondo, and I've used it a few times in the past. I backed away from between his arms. He let out a horrific scream, kicked wildly, and clawed wildly. Finally He still fell because he couldn't keep his balance."

I listened with wide eyes.

I asked loudly: "I saw with my own eyes the footprints of two people walking forward on that road, and no one walked back."

"Well, the moment he fell into the abyss, I suddenly thought that fate had given me a wonderful opportunity. I knew that there were at least three other people who had vowed to kill me, besides Moriarty. My desire for revenge is only intensified by the death of their leader. They are the most dangerous people, and one of the three will always find me. On the other hand, if the whole world thinks that I am dead, these people will Will show up soon and it will save a lot of trouble.

"I stood up and took a closer look at the cliff behind me. In your description, which I read with gusto later, you affirmed that it was a cliff. You were not quite right. There were dews on the so-called 'cliff' There are a few narrow footholds outside, and there is a place that looks like a ledge. It is impossible to walk out along that wet narrow path without leaving footprints. Of course I can wear my shoes backwards, but Three pairs of footprints in one direction can only lead to the idea that this is a trick. So, it is better to risk climbing up. Several times when my hands missed the grass near me or my feet slipped through the wet rock gaps I almost despaired as I descended, but I scrambled upward until I reached a ledge a few feet across with green moss on it.

"You made a mistake and left after making a conclusion, but another very sudden accident happened. Suddenly a huge boulder fell from above, brushed past me with a bang, hit the path below, and fell into the abyss At that time, I thought that the rock fell down by accident. Unexpectedly, after a while, I looked up and saw a head protruding from the dark sky. At the same time, another rock fell and hit the place where I was lying, not far from my head. Less than a foot. Obviously Moriarty didn't act alone. When he attacked me, there was another henchman watching, and I knew at a glance how insidious this guy has been. He hid in the dark and saw it with his own eyes. Everything that happened when his friend drowned and I escaped. He bided his time trying to kill me.

(End of this chapter)