Reading Help The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Ch.I-IV
waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to `
` himself than to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he `
` was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are `
` deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his `
` story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are `
` the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It `
` is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? `
` Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite `
` unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again--of course `
` that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up `
` and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we `
` were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a `
` great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced `
` his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon `
` his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he `
` remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, `
` gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and `
` examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of `
` the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among `
` the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then `
` he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the `
` highroad, where all traces were lost. `
` `
` "It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, `
` returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this grey house on `
` the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a `
` word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done `
` that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, `
` and I shall be with you presently." `
` `
` It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove `
` back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he `
` had picked up in the wood. `
` `
` "This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. `
` "The murder was done with it." `
` `
` "I see no marks." `
` `
` "There are none." `
` `
` "How do you know, then?" `
` `
` "The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few `
` days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It `
` corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other `
` weapon." `
` `
` "And the murderer?" `
` `
` "Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears `
` thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian `
` cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his `
` pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be `
` enough to aid us in our search." `
` `
` Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he `
` said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a `
` hard-headed British jury." `
` `
` "Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your own `
` method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, `
` and shall probably return to London by the evening train." `
` `
` "And leave your case unfinished?" `
` `
` "No, finished." `
` `
` "But the mystery?" `
` `
` "It is solved." `
` `
` "Who was the criminal, then?" `
` `
` "The gentleman I describe." `
` `
` "But who is he?" `
` `
` "Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a `
` populous neighbourhood." `
` `
` Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, `
` "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking `
` for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the `
` laughing-stock of Scotland Yard." `
` `
` "All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. `
` Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before `
` I leave." `
` `
` Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where `
` we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in `
` thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds `
` himself in a perplexing position. `
` `
` "Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit `
` down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't `
` know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a `
` cigar and let me expound." `
` `
` "Pray do so." `
` `
` "Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about `
` young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, `
` although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One `
` was the fact that his father should, according to his account, `
` cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying `
` reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but `
` that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double `
` point our research must commence, and we will begin it by `
` presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true." `
` `
` "What of this 'Cooee!' then?" `
` `
` "Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The `
` son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that `
` he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the `
` attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But `
` 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used `
` between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the `
` person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was `
` someone who had been in Australia." `
` `
` "What of the rat, then?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened `
` it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," `
` he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand `
` over part of the map. "What do you read?" `
` `
` "ARAT," I read. `
` `
` "And now?" He raised his hand. `
` `
` "BALLARAT." `
` `
` "Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his `
` son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter `
` the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat." `
` `
` "It is wonderful!" I exclaimed. `
` `
` "It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down `
` considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point `
` which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a `
` certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite `
` conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak." `
` `
` "Certainly." `
` `
` "And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only `
` be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could `
` hardly wander." `
` `
` "Quite so." `
` `
` "Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the `
` ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that `
` imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal." `
` `
` "But how did you gain them?" `
` `
` "You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of `
` trifles." `
` `
` "His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length `
` of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces." `
` `
` "Yes, they were peculiar boots." `
` `
` "But his lameness?" `
` `
` "The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than `
` his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped--he `
` was lame." `
` `
` "But his left-handedness." `
` `
` "You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded `
` by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from `
` immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can `
` that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind `
` that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had `
` even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special `
` knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian `
` cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and `
` written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different `
` varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the `
` ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss `
` where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety `
` which are rolled in Rotterdam." `
` `
` "And the cigar-holder?" `
` `
` "I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he `
` used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the `
` cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife." `
` `
` "Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which `
` he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as `
` truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the `
`
` himself than to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he `
` was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are `
` deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his `
` story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are `
` the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It `
` is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? `
` Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite `
` unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again--of course `
` that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up `
` and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we `
` were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a `
` great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced `
` his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon `
` his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he `
` remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, `
` gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and `
` examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of `
` the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among `
` the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then `
` he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the `
` highroad, where all traces were lost. `
` `
` "It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, `
` returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this grey house on `
` the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a `
` word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done `
` that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, `
` and I shall be with you presently." `
` `
` It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove `
` back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he `
` had picked up in the wood. `
` `
` "This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. `
` "The murder was done with it." `
` `
` "I see no marks." `
` `
` "There are none." `
` `
` "How do you know, then?" `
` `
` "The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few `
` days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It `
` corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other `
` weapon." `
` `
` "And the murderer?" `
` `
` "Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears `
` thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian `
` cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his `
` pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be `
` enough to aid us in our search." `
` `
` Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he `
` said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a `
` hard-headed British jury." `
` `
` "Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your own `
` method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, `
` and shall probably return to London by the evening train." `
` `
` "And leave your case unfinished?" `
` `
` "No, finished." `
` `
` "But the mystery?" `
` `
` "It is solved." `
` `
` "Who was the criminal, then?" `
` `
` "The gentleman I describe." `
` `
` "But who is he?" `
` `
` "Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a `
` populous neighbourhood." `
` `
` Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, `
` "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking `
` for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the `
` laughing-stock of Scotland Yard." `
` `
` "All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. `
` Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before `
` I leave." `
` `
` Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where `
` we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in `
` thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds `
` himself in a perplexing position. `
` `
` "Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit `
` down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't `
` know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a `
` cigar and let me expound." `
` `
` "Pray do so." `
` `
` "Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about `
` young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, `
` although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One `
` was the fact that his father should, according to his account, `
` cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying `
` reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but `
` that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double `
` point our research must commence, and we will begin it by `
` presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true." `
` `
` "What of this 'Cooee!' then?" `
` `
` "Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The `
` son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that `
` he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the `
` attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But `
` 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used `
` between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the `
` person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was `
` someone who had been in Australia." `
` `
` "What of the rat, then?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened `
` it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," `
` he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand `
` over part of the map. "What do you read?" `
` `
` "ARAT," I read. `
` `
` "And now?" He raised his hand. `
` `
` "BALLARAT." `
` `
` "Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his `
` son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter `
` the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat." `
` `
` "It is wonderful!" I exclaimed. `
` `
` "It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down `
` considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point `
` which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a `
` certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite `
` conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak." `
` `
` "Certainly." `
` `
` "And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only `
` be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could `
` hardly wander." `
` `
` "Quite so." `
` `
` "Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the `
` ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that `
` imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal." `
` `
` "But how did you gain them?" `
` `
` "You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of `
` trifles." `
` `
` "His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length `
` of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces." `
` `
` "Yes, they were peculiar boots." `
` `
` "But his lameness?" `
` `
` "The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than `
` his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped--he `
` was lame." `
` `
` "But his left-handedness." `
` `
` "You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded `
` by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from `
` immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can `
` that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind `
` that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had `
` even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special `
` knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian `
` cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and `
` written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different `
` varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the `
` ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss `
` where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety `
` which are rolled in Rotterdam." `
` `
` "And the cigar-holder?" `
` `
` "I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he `
` used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the `
` cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife." `
` `
` "Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which `
` he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as `
` truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the `
`