Reading Help The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Ch.V-VIII
heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his `
` calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his `
` tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely `
` dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its `
` repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right `
` across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up `
` one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a `
` perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over `
` his eyes and forehead. `
` `
` "He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector. `
` `
` "He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that `
` he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." `
` He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my `
` astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. `
` `
` "He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. `
` `
` "Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very `
` quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable `
` figure." `
` `
` "Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't `
` look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his `
` key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The `
` sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep `
` slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, `
` and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the `
` prisoner's face. `
` `
` "Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of `
` Lee, in the county of Kent." `
` `
` Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled `
` off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the `
` coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had `
` seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the `
` repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled `
` red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, `
` sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, `
` rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. `
` Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and `
` threw himself down with his face to the pillow. `
` `
` "Great heavens!" cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing `
` man. I know him from the photograph." `
` `
` The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons `
` himself to his destiny. "Be it so," said he. "And pray what am I `
` charged with?" `
` `
` "With making away with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh, come, you can't be `
` charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of `
` it," said the inspector with a grin. "Well, I have been `
` twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake." `
` `
` "If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime `
` has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally `
` detained." `
` `
` "No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said `
` Holmes. "You would have done better to have trusted you wife." `
` `
` "It was not the wife; it was the children," groaned the prisoner. `
` "God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My `
` God! What an exposure! What can I do?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him `
` kindly on the shoulder. `
` `
` "If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said `
` he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, `
` if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible `
` case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the `
` details should find their way into the papers. Inspector `
` Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you `
` might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case `
` would then never go into court at all." `
` `
` "God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately. "I would have `
` endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left `
` my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. `
` `
` "You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a `
` schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent `
` education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and `
` finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day `
` my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the `
` metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point `
` from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying `
` begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to `
` base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the `
` secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for `
` my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my `
` face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good `
` scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a `
` small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of `
` hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business `
` part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a `
` beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned `
` home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no `
` less than 26s. 4d. `
` `
` "I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, `
` some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ `
` served upon me for 25 pounds. I was at my wit's end where to get `
` the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's `
` grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, `
` and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In `
` ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. `
` `
` "Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous `
` work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in `
` a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on `
` the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my `
` pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up `
` reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first `
` chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets `
` with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a `
` low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could `
` every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings `
` transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, `
` a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that `
` my secret was safe in his possession. `
` `
` "Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of `
` money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London `
` could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my average `
` takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making `
` up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by `
` practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. `
` All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, `
` and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds. `
` `
` "As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the `
` country, and eventually married, without anyone having a `
` suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had `
` business in the City. She little knew what. `
` `
` "Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my `
` room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, `
` to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the `
` street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of `
` surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my `
` confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from `
` coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that `
` she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on `
` those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's `
` eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it `
` occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that `
` the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening `
` by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in `
` the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was `
` weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from `
` the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of `
` the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes `
` would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of `
` constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, `
` I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. `
` Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. `
` `
` "I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I `
` was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and `
` hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would `
` be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the `
` Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together `
` with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to `
` fear." `
` `
` "That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes. `
` `
` "Good God! What a week she must have spent!" `
` `
` "The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, `
` "and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to `
` post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor `
` customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days." `
` `
` "That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt `
` of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?" `
` `
` "Many times; but what was a fine to me?" `
` `
` "It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are `
` to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone." `
` `
` "I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take." `
` `
` "In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps `
` may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. `
` I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for `
` having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your `
` results." `
` `
` "I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five `
` pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if `
` we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast." `
` `
` `
` `
`
` calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his `
` tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely `
` dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its `
` repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right `
` across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up `
` one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a `
` perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over `
` his eyes and forehead. `
` `
` "He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector. `
` `
` "He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that `
` he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." `
` He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my `
` astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. `
` `
` "He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. `
` `
` "Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very `
` quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable `
` figure." `
` `
` "Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't `
` look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his `
` key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The `
` sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep `
` slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, `
` and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the `
` prisoner's face. `
` `
` "Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of `
` Lee, in the county of Kent." `
` `
` Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled `
` off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the `
` coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had `
` seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the `
` repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled `
` red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, `
` sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, `
` rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. `
` Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and `
` threw himself down with his face to the pillow. `
` `
` "Great heavens!" cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing `
` man. I know him from the photograph." `
` `
` The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons `
` himself to his destiny. "Be it so," said he. "And pray what am I `
` charged with?" `
` `
` "With making away with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh, come, you can't be `
` charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of `
` it," said the inspector with a grin. "Well, I have been `
` twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake." `
` `
` "If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime `
` has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally `
` detained." `
` `
` "No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said `
` Holmes. "You would have done better to have trusted you wife." `
` `
` "It was not the wife; it was the children," groaned the prisoner. `
` "God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My `
` God! What an exposure! What can I do?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him `
` kindly on the shoulder. `
` `
` "If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said `
` he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, `
` if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible `
` case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the `
` details should find their way into the papers. Inspector `
` Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you `
` might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case `
` would then never go into court at all." `
` `
` "God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately. "I would have `
` endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left `
` my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. `
` `
` "You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a `
` schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent `
` education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and `
` finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day `
` my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the `
` metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point `
` from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying `
` begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to `
` base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the `
` secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for `
` my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my `
` face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good `
` scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a `
` small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of `
` hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business `
` part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a `
` beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned `
` home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no `
` less than 26s. 4d. `
` `
` "I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, `
` some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ `
` served upon me for 25 pounds. I was at my wit's end where to get `
` the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's `
` grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, `
` and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In `
` ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. `
` `
` "Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous `
` work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in `
` a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on `
` the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my `
` pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up `
` reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first `
` chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets `
` with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a `
` low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could `
` every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings `
` transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, `
` a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that `
` my secret was safe in his possession. `
` `
` "Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of `
` money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London `
` could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my average `
` takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making `
` up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by `
` practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. `
` All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, `
` and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds. `
` `
` "As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the `
` country, and eventually married, without anyone having a `
` suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had `
` business in the City. She little knew what. `
` `
` "Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my `
` room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, `
` to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the `
` street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of `
` surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my `
` confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from `
` coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that `
` she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on `
` those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's `
` eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it `
` occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that `
` the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening `
` by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in `
` the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was `
` weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from `
` the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of `
` the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes `
` would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of `
` constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, `
` I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. `
` Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. `
` `
` "I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I `
` was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and `
` hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would `
` be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the `
` Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together `
` with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to `
` fear." `
` `
` "That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes. `
` `
` "Good God! What a week she must have spent!" `
` `
` "The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, `
` "and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to `
` post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor `
` customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days." `
` `
` "That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt `
` of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?" `
` `
` "Many times; but what was a fine to me?" `
` `
` "It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are `
` to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone." `
` `
` "I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take." `
` `
` "In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps `
` may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. `
` I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for `
` having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your `
` results." `
` `
` "I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five `
` pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if `
` we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast." `
` `
` `
` `
`