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