Reading Help The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Ch.V-VIII
"Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been `
` making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us `
` the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my `
` opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the `
` bird I ate is country bred." `
` `
` "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped `
` the salesman. `
` `
` "It's nothing of the kind." `
` `
` "I say it is." `
` `
` "I don't believe it." `
` `
` "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled `
` them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that `
` went to the Alpha were town bred." `
` `
` "You'll never persuade me to believe that." `
` `
` "Will you bet, then?" `
` `
` "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But `
` I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be `
` obstinate." `
` `
` The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said `
` he. `
` `
` The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great `
` greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging `
` lamp. `
` `
` "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I `
` was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is `
` still one left in my shop. You see this little book?" `
` `
` "Well?" `
` `
` "That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, `
` then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers `
` after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. `
` Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a `
` list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just `
` read it out to me." `
` `
` "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes. `
` `
` "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger." `
` `
` Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs. `
` Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'" `
` `
` "Now, then, what's the last entry?" `
` `
` "'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.'" `
` `
` "Quite so. There you are. And underneath?" `
` `
` "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'" `
` `
` "What have you to say now?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from `
` his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the `
` air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off `
` he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless `
` fashion which was peculiar to him. `
` `
` "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' `
` protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," `
` said he. "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of `
` him, that man would not have given me such complete information `
` as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a `
` wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our `
` quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is `
` whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or `
` whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what `
` that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves `
` who are anxious about the matter, and I should--" `
` `
` His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke `
` out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a `
` little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of `
` yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while `
` Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was `
` shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. `
` `
` "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you `
` were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more `
` with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. `
` Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with `
` it? Did I buy the geese off you?" `
` `
` "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little `
` man. `
` `
` "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." `
` `
` "She told me to ask you." `
` `
` "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had `
` enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and `
` the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. `
` `
` "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. `
` "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this `
` fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people who `
` lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook `
` the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang `
` round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of `
` colour had been driven from his face. `
` `
` "Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering `
` voice. `
` `
` "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help `
` overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. `
` I think that I could be of assistance to you." `
` `
` "You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?" `
` `
` "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other `
` people don't know." `
` `
` "But you can know nothing of this?" `
` `
` "Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to `
` trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton `
` Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. `
` Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. `
` Henry Baker is a member." `
` `
` "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried `
` the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. `
` "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter." `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that `
` case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this `
` wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we `
` go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting." `
` `
` The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he `
` answered with a sidelong glance. `
` `
` "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always `
` awkward doing business with an alias." `
` `
` A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," `
` said he, "my real name is James Ryder." `
` `
` "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray `
` step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you `
` everything which you would wish to know." `
` `
` The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with `
` half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure `
` whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. `
` Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in `
` the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during `
` our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and `
` the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous `
` tension within him. `
` `
` "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. `
` "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, `
` Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my `
` slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! `
` You want to know what became of those geese?" `
` `
` "Yes, sir." `
` `
` "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in `
` which you were interested--white, with a black bar across the `
` tail." `
` `
` Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell `
` me where it went to?" `
` `
` "It came here." `
` `
` "Here?" `
` `
` "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that `
` you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was `
` dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. `
` I have it here in my museum." `
` `
` Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece `
` with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up `
` the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, `
` brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a `
` drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. `
` `
` "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up, man, or `
` you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, `
` Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with `
` impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little `
` more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!" `
` `
`
` making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us `
` the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my `
` opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the `
` bird I ate is country bred." `
` `
` "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped `
` the salesman. `
` `
` "It's nothing of the kind." `
` `
` "I say it is." `
` `
` "I don't believe it." `
` `
` "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled `
` them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that `
` went to the Alpha were town bred." `
` `
` "You'll never persuade me to believe that." `
` `
` "Will you bet, then?" `
` `
` "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But `
` I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be `
` obstinate." `
` `
` The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said `
` he. `
` `
` The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great `
` greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging `
` lamp. `
` `
` "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I `
` was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is `
` still one left in my shop. You see this little book?" `
` `
` "Well?" `
` `
` "That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, `
` then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers `
` after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. `
` Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a `
` list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just `
` read it out to me." `
` `
` "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes. `
` `
` "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger." `
` `
` Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs. `
` Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'" `
` `
` "Now, then, what's the last entry?" `
` `
` "'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.'" `
` `
` "Quite so. There you are. And underneath?" `
` `
` "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'" `
` `
` "What have you to say now?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from `
` his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the `
` air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off `
` he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless `
` fashion which was peculiar to him. `
` `
` "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' `
` protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," `
` said he. "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of `
` him, that man would not have given me such complete information `
` as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a `
` wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our `
` quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is `
` whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or `
` whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what `
` that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves `
` who are anxious about the matter, and I should--" `
` `
` His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke `
` out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a `
` little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of `
` yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while `
` Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was `
` shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. `
` `
` "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you `
` were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more `
` with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. `
` Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with `
` it? Did I buy the geese off you?" `
` `
` "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little `
` man. `
` `
` "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." `
` `
` "She told me to ask you." `
` `
` "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had `
` enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and `
` the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. `
` `
` "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. `
` "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this `
` fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people who `
` lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook `
` the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang `
` round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of `
` colour had been driven from his face. `
` `
` "Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering `
` voice. `
` `
` "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help `
` overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. `
` I think that I could be of assistance to you." `
` `
` "You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?" `
` `
` "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other `
` people don't know." `
` `
` "But you can know nothing of this?" `
` `
` "Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to `
` trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton `
` Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. `
` Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. `
` Henry Baker is a member." `
` `
` "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried `
` the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. `
` "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter." `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that `
` case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this `
` wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we `
` go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting." `
` `
` The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he `
` answered with a sidelong glance. `
` `
` "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always `
` awkward doing business with an alias." `
` `
` A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," `
` said he, "my real name is James Ryder." `
` `
` "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray `
` step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you `
` everything which you would wish to know." `
` `
` The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with `
` half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure `
` whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. `
` Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in `
` the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during `
` our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and `
` the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous `
` tension within him. `
` `
` "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. `
` "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, `
` Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my `
` slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! `
` You want to know what became of those geese?" `
` `
` "Yes, sir." `
` `
` "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in `
` which you were interested--white, with a black bar across the `
` tail." `
` `
` Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell `
` me where it went to?" `
` `
` "It came here." `
` `
` "Here?" `
` `
` "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that `
` you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was `
` dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. `
` I have it here in my museum." `
` `
` Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece `
` with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up `
` the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, `
` brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a `
` drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. `
` `
` "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up, man, or `
` you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, `
` Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with `
` impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little `
` more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!" `
` `
`