Reading Help The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Ch.V-VIII
`
` "Nothing?" `
` `
` "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white `
` hands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor `
` rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in `
` the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight `
` and no precautions can guard against." `
` `
` "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are `
` lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for `
` despair." `
` `
` "I have seen the police." `
` `
` "Ah!" `
` `
` "But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that `
` the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all `
` practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really `
` accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with `
` the warnings." `
` `
` Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible `
` imbecility!" he cried. `
` `
` "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in `
` the house with me." `
` `
` "Has he come with you to-night?" `
` `
` "No. His orders were to stay in the house." `
` `
` Again Holmes raved in the air. `
` `
` "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you `
` not come at once?" `
` `
` "I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major `
` Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to `
` you." `
` `
` "It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have `
` acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than `
` that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which `
` might help us?" `
` `
` "There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat `
` pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted `
` paper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," `
` said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I `
` observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the `
` ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet `
` upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it `
` may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from `
` among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond `
` the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think `
` myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is `
` undoubtedly my uncle's." `
` `
` Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, `
` which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from `
` a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the `
` following enigmatical notices: `
` `
` "4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. `
` `
` "7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and `
` John Swain, of St. Augustine. `
` `
` "9th. McCauley cleared. `
` `
` "10th. John Swain cleared. `
` `
` "12th. Visited Paramore. All well." `
` `
` "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it `
` to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another `
` instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told `
` me. You must get home instantly and act." `
` `
` "What shall I do?" `
` `
` "There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must `
` put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass `
` box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say `
` that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that `
` this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such `
` words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you `
` must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do `
` you understand?" `
` `
` "Entirely." `
` `
` "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I `
` think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our `
` web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first `
` consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens `
` you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the `
` guilty parties." `
` `
` "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his `
` overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall `
` certainly do as you advise." `
` `
` "Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in `
` the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that `
` you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you `
` go back?" `
` `
` "By train from Waterloo." `
` `
` "It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that `
` you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too `
` closely." `
` `
` "I am armed." `
` `
` "That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case." `
` `
` "I shall see you at Horsham, then?" `
` `
` "No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek `
` it." `
` `
` "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news `
` as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every `
` particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside `
` the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered `
` against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come `
` to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet `
` of sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them `
` once more. `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk `
` forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he `
` lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue `
` smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. `
` `
` "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we `
` have had none more fantastic than this." `
` `
` "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four." `
` `
` "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems `
` to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the `
` Sholtos." `
` `
` "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to `
` what these perils are?" `
` `
` "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered. `
` `
` "Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue `
` this unhappy family?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the `
` arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal `
` reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a `
` single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the `
` chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which `
` would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole `
` animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who `
` has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents `
` should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both `
` before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the `
` reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study `
` which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the `
` aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest `
` pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to `
` utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this `
` in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all `
` knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and `
` encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so `
` impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge `
` which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have `
` endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one `
` occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits `
` in a very precise fashion." `
` `
` "Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. `
` Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I `
` remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the `
` mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry `
` eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime `
` records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and `
` self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the `
` main points of my analysis." `
` `
` Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as `
` I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic `
` stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the `
` rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he `
` can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which `
` has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster `
` all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the `
` 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you. `
` Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be `
` deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong `
` presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for `
` leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their `
`
` "Nothing?" `
` `
` "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white `
` hands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor `
` rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in `
` the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight `
` and no precautions can guard against." `
` `
` "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are `
` lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for `
` despair." `
` `
` "I have seen the police." `
` `
` "Ah!" `
` `
` "But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that `
` the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all `
` practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really `
` accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with `
` the warnings." `
` `
` Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible `
` imbecility!" he cried. `
` `
` "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in `
` the house with me." `
` `
` "Has he come with you to-night?" `
` `
` "No. His orders were to stay in the house." `
` `
` Again Holmes raved in the air. `
` `
` "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you `
` not come at once?" `
` `
` "I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major `
` Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to `
` you." `
` `
` "It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have `
` acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than `
` that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which `
` might help us?" `
` `
` "There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat `
` pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted `
` paper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," `
` said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I `
` observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the `
` ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet `
` upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it `
` may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from `
` among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond `
` the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think `
` myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is `
` undoubtedly my uncle's." `
` `
` Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, `
` which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from `
` a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the `
` following enigmatical notices: `
` `
` "4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. `
` `
` "7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and `
` John Swain, of St. Augustine. `
` `
` "9th. McCauley cleared. `
` `
` "10th. John Swain cleared. `
` `
` "12th. Visited Paramore. All well." `
` `
` "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it `
` to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another `
` instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told `
` me. You must get home instantly and act." `
` `
` "What shall I do?" `
` `
` "There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must `
` put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass `
` box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say `
` that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that `
` this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such `
` words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you `
` must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do `
` you understand?" `
` `
` "Entirely." `
` `
` "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I `
` think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our `
` web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first `
` consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens `
` you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the `
` guilty parties." `
` `
` "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his `
` overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall `
` certainly do as you advise." `
` `
` "Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in `
` the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that `
` you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you `
` go back?" `
` `
` "By train from Waterloo." `
` `
` "It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that `
` you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too `
` closely." `
` `
` "I am armed." `
` `
` "That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case." `
` `
` "I shall see you at Horsham, then?" `
` `
` "No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek `
` it." `
` `
` "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news `
` as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every `
` particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside `
` the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered `
` against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come `
` to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet `
` of sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them `
` once more. `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk `
` forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he `
` lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue `
` smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. `
` `
` "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we `
` have had none more fantastic than this." `
` `
` "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four." `
` `
` "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems `
` to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the `
` Sholtos." `
` `
` "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to `
` what these perils are?" `
` `
` "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered. `
` `
` "Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue `
` this unhappy family?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the `
` arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal `
` reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a `
` single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the `
` chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which `
` would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole `
` animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who `
` has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents `
` should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both `
` before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the `
` reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study `
` which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the `
` aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest `
` pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to `
` utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this `
` in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all `
` knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and `
` encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so `
` impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge `
` which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have `
` endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one `
` occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits `
` in a very precise fashion." `
` `
` "Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. `
` Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I `
` remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the `
` mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry `
` eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime `
` records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and `
` self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the `
` main points of my analysis." `
` `
` Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as `
` I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic `
` stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the `
` rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he `
` can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which `
` has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster `
` all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the `
` 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you. `
` Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be `
` deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong `
` presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for `
` leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their `
`