möbel braun wohnzimmer

“the adventure of wisteria lodge" chapter 1. the singular experience of mr. john scotteccles i find it recorded in my notebook that itwas a bleak and windy day towards the end of march in the year 1892. holmes had received a telegram while we satat our lunch, and he had scribbled a reply. he made no remark, but the matter remainedin his thoughts, for he stood in front of the fire afterwards with a thoughtful face,smoking his pipe, and casting an occasional glance at the message.

suddenly he turned upon me with a mischievoustwinkle in his eyes. "i suppose, watson, we must look upon youas a man of letters," said he. "how do you define the word 'grotesque'?" "strange--remarkable," i suggested. he shook his head at my definition. "there is surely something more than that,"said he; "some underlying suggestion of the tragic and the terrible. if you cast your mind back to some of thosenarratives with which you have afflicted a long-suffering public, you will recognizehow often the grotesque has deepened into

the criminal. think of that little affair of the red-headedmen. that was grotesque enough in the outset, andyet it ended in a desperate attempt at robbery. or, again, there was that most grotesque affairof the five orange pips, which led straight to a murderous conspiracy. the word puts me on the alert." "have you it there?" i asked. he read the telegram aloud.

"have just had most incredible and grotesqueexperience. may i consult you? "scott eccles,"post office, charing cross." "man or woman?" "oh, man, of course. no woman would ever send a reply-paid telegram. she would have come." "will you see him?" "my dear watson, you know how bored i havebeen since we locked up colonel carruthers.

my mind is like a racing engine, tearing itselfto pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built. life is commonplace, the papers are sterile;audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world. can you ask me, then, whether i am ready tolook into any new problem, however trivial it may prove? but here, unless i am mistaken, is our client." a measured step was heard upon the stairs,and a moment later a stout, tall, gray-whiskered and solemnly respectable person was usheredinto the room.

his life history was written in his heavyfeatures and pompous manner. from his spats to his gold-rimmed spectacleshe was a conservative, a churchman, a good citizen, orthodox and conventional to thelast degree. but some amazing experience had disturbedhis native composure and left its traces in his bristling hair, his flushed, angry cheeks,and his flurried, excited manner. he plunged instantly into his business. "i have had a most singular and unpleasantexperience, mr. holmes," said he. "never in my life have i been placed in sucha situation. it is most improper--most outrageous.

i must insist upon some explanation." he swelled and puffed in his anger. "pray sit down, mr. scott eccles," said holmesin a soothing voice. "may i ask, in the first place, why you cameto me at all?" "well, sir, it did not appear to be a matterwhich concerned the police, and yet, when you have heard the facts, you must admit thati could not leave it where it was. private detectives are a class with whom ihave absolutely no sympathy, but none the less, having heard your name--""quite so. but, in the second place, why did you notcome at once?"

holmes glanced at his watch. "it is a quarter-past two," he said. "your telegram was dispatched about one. but no one can glance at your toilet and attirewithout seeing that your disturbance dates from the moment of your waking." our client smoothed down his unbrushed hairand felt his unshaven chin. "you are right, mr. holmes. i never gave a thought to my toilet. i was only too glad to get out of such a house.

but i have been running round making inquiriesbefore i came to you. i went to the house agents, you know, andthey said that mr. garcia's rent was paid up all right and that everything was in orderat wisteria lodge." "come, come, sir," said holmes, laughing. "you are like my friend, dr. watson, who hasa bad habit of telling his stories wrong end foremost. please arrange your thoughts and let me know,in their due sequence, exactly what those events are which have sent you out unbrushedand unkempt, with dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry, in search of advice and assistance."

our client looked down with a rueful faceat his own unconventional appearance. "i'm sure it must look very bad, mr. holmes,and i am not aware that in my whole life such a thing has ever happened before. but i will tell you the whole queer business,and when i have done so you will admit, i am sure, that there has been enough to excuseme." but his narrative was nipped in the bud. there was a bustle outside, and mrs. hudsonopened the door to usher in two robust and official-looking individuals, one of whomwas well known to us as inspector gregson of scotland yard, an energetic, gallant, and,within his limitations, a capable officer.

he shook hands with holmes and introducedhis comrade as inspector baynes, of the surrey constabulary. "we are hunting together, mr. holmes, andour trail lay in this direction." he turned his bulldog eyes upon our visitor. "are you mr. john scott eccles, of pophamhouse, lee?" "i am." "we have been following you about all themorning." "you traced him through the telegram, no doubt,"said holmes. "exactly, mr. holmes.

we picked up the scent at charing cross post-officeand came on here." "but why do you follow me? what do you want?" "we wish a statement, mr. scott eccles, asto the events which led up to the death last night of mr. aloysius garcia, of wisterialodge, near esher." our client had sat up with staring eyes andevery tinge of colour struck from his astonished face. "dead? did you say he was dead?"

"yes, sir, he is dead." "but how? an accident?" "murder, if ever there was one upon earth." "good god! this is awful! you don't mean--you don't mean that i am suspected?" "a letter of yours was found in the dead man'spocket, and we know by it that you had planned to pass last night at his house."

"so i did." "oh, you did, did you?" out came the official notebook. "wait a bit, gregson," said sherlock holmes. "all you desire is a plain statement, is itnot?" "and it is my duty to warn mr. scott ecclesthat it may be used against him." "mr. eccles was going to tell us about itwhen you entered the room. i think, watson, a brandy and soda would dohim no harm. now, sir, i suggest that you take no noticeof this addition to your audience, and that

you proceed with your narrative exactly asyou would have done had you never been interrupted." our visitor had gulped off the brandy andthe colour had returned to his face. with a dubious glance at the inspector's notebook,he plunged at once into his extraordinary statement. "i am a bachelor," said he, "and being ofa sociable turn i cultivate a large number of friends. among these are the family of a retired brewercalled melville, living at abermarle mansion, kensington. it was at his table that i met some weeksago a young fellow named garcia.

he was, i understood, of spanish descent andconnected in some way with the embassy. he spoke perfect english, was pleasing inhis manners, and as good-looking a man as ever i saw in my life. "in some way we struck up quite a friendship,this young fellow and i. he seemed to take a fancy to me from the first,and within two days of our meeting he came to see me at lee. one thing led to another, and it ended inhis inviting me out to spend a few days at his house, wisteria lodge, between esher andoxshott. yesterday evening i went to esher to fulfilthis engagement.

"he had described his household to me beforei went there. he lived with a faithful servant, a countrymanof his own, who looked after all his needs. this fellow could speak english and did hishousekeeping for him. then there was a wonderful cook, he said,a half-breed whom he had picked up in his travels, who could serve an excellent dinner. i remember that he remarked what a queer householdit was to find in the heart of surrey, and that i agreed with him, though it has proveda good deal queerer than i thought. "i drove to the place--about two miles onthe south side of esher. the house was a fair-sized one, standing backfrom the road, with a curving drive which

was banked with high evergreen shrubs. it was an old, tumbledown building in a crazystate of disrepair. when the trap pulled up on the grass-growndrive in front of the blotched and weather-stained door, i had doubts as to my wisdom in visitinga man whom i knew so slightly. he opened the door himself, however, and greetedme with a great show of cordiality. i was handed over to the manservant, a melancholy,swarthy individual, who led the way, my bag in his hand, to my bedroom. the whole place was depressing. our dinner was tete-a-tete, and though myhost did his best to be entertaining, his

thoughts seemed to continually wander, andhe talked so vaguely and wildly that i could hardly understand him. he continually drummed his fingers on thetable, gnawed his nails, and gave other signs of nervous impatience. the dinner itself was neither well servednor well cooked, and the gloomy presence of the taciturn servant did not help to enlivenus. i can assure you that many times in the courseof the evening i wished that i could invent some excuse which would take me back to lee. "one thing comes back to my memory which mayhave a bearing upon the business that you

two gentlemen are investigating. i thought nothing of it at the time. near the end of dinner a note was handed inby the servant. i noticed that after my host had read it heseemed even more distrait and strange than before. he gave up all pretence at conversation andsat, smoking endless cigarettes, lost in his own thoughts, but he made no remark as tothe contents. about eleven i was glad to go to bed. some time later garcia looked in at my door--theroom was dark at the time--and asked me if

i had rung. i said that i had not. he apologized for having disturbed me so late,saying that it was nearly one o'clock. i dropped off after this and slept soundlyall night. "and now i come to the amazing part of mytale. when i woke it was broad daylight. i glanced at my watch, and the time was nearlynine. i had particularly asked to be called at eight,so i was very much astonished at this forgetfulness. i sprang up and rang for the servant.

there was no response. i rang again and again, with the same result. then i came to the conclusion that the bellwas out of order. i huddled on my clothes and hurried downstairsin an exceedingly bad temper to order some hot water. you can imagine my surprise when i found thatthere was no one there. i shouted in the hall. there was no answer. then i ran from room to room.

all were deserted. my host had shown me which was his bedroomthe night before, so i knocked at the door. no reply. i turned the handle and walked in. the room was empty, and the bed had neverbeen slept in. he had gone with the rest. the foreign host, the foreign footman, theforeign cook, all had vanished in the night! that was the end of my visit to wisteria lodge." sherlock holmes was rubbing his hands andchuckling as he added this bizarre incident

to his collection of strange episodes. "your experience is, so far as i know, perfectlyunique," said he. "may i ask, sir, what you did then?" "i was furious. my first idea was that i had been the victimof some absurd practical joke. i packed my things, banged the hall door behindme, and set off for esher, with my bag in my hand. i called at allan brothers', the chief landagents in the village, and found that it was from this firm that the villa had been rented.

it struck me that the whole proceeding couldhardly be for the purpose of making a fool of me, and that the main object must be toget out of the rent. it is late in march, so quarter-day is athand. but this theory would not work. the agent was obliged to me for my warning,but told me that the rent had been paid in advance. then i made my way to town and called at thespanish embassy. the man was unknown there. after this i went to see melville, at whosehouse i had first met garcia, but i found

that he really knew rather less about himthan i did. finally when i got your reply to my wire icame out to you, since i gather that you are a person who gives advice in difficult cases. but now, mr. inspector, i understand, fromwhat you said when you entered the room, that you can carry the story on, and that sometragedy had occurred. i can assure you that every word i have saidis the truth, and that, outside of what i have told you, i know absolutely nothing aboutthe fate of this man. my only desire is to help the law in everypossible way." "i am sure of it, mr. scott eccles--i am sureof it," said inspector gregson in a very amiable

tone. "i am bound to say that everything which youhave said agrees very closely with the facts as they have come to our notice. for example, there was that note which arrivedduring dinner. did you chance to observe what became of it?" "yes, i did. garcia rolled it up and threw it into thefire." "what do you say to that, mr. baynes?" the country detective was a stout, puffy,red man, whose face was only redeemed from

grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes,almost hidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. with a slow smile he drew a folded and discolouredscrap of paper from his pocket. "it was a dog-grate, mr. holmes, and he overpitchedit. i picked this out unburned from the back ofit." holmes smiled his appreciation. "you must have examined the house very carefullyto find a single pellet of paper." "i did, mr. holmes. it's my way.

shall i read it, mr. gregson?" the londoner nodded. "the note is written upon ordinary cream-laidpaper without watermark. it is a quarter-sheet. the paper is cut off in two snips with a short-bladedscissors. it has been folded over three times and sealedwith purple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat oval object. it is addressed to mr. garcia, wisteria lodge. it says:"our own colours, green and white.

green open, white shut. main stair, first corridor, seventh right,green baize. godspeed. d."it is a woman's writing, done with a sharp-pointed pen, but the address is either done with anotherpen or by someone else. it is thicker and bolder, as you see." "a very remarkable note," said holmes, glancingit over. "i must compliment you, mr. baynes, upon yourattention to detail in your examination of it.

a few trifling points might perhaps be added. the oval seal is undoubtedly a plain sleeve-link--whatelse is of such a shape? the scissors were bent nail scissors. short as the two snips are, you can distinctlysee the same slight curve in each." the country detective chuckled. "i thought i had squeezed all the juice outof it, but i see there was a little over," he said. "i'm bound to say that i make nothing of thenote except that there was something on hand, and that a woman, as usual was at the bottomof it."

mr. scott eccles had fidgeted in his seatduring this conversation. "i am glad you found the note, since it corroboratesmy story," said he. "but i beg to point out that i have not yetheard what has happened to mr. garcia, nor what has become of his household." "as to garcia," said gregson, "that is easilyanswered. he was found dead this morning upon oxshottcommon, nearly a mile from his home. his head had been smashed to pulp by heavyblows of a sandbag or some such instrument, which had crushed rather than wounded. it is a lonely corner, and there is no housewithin a quarter of a mile of the spot.

he had apparently been struck down first frombehind, but his assailant had gone on beating him long after he was dead. it was a most furious assault. there are no footsteps nor any clue to thecriminals." "robbed?" "no, there was no attempt at robbery." "this is very painful--very painful and terrible,"said mr. scott eccles in a querulous voice, "but it is really uncommonly hard on me. i had nothing to do with my host going offupon a nocturnal excursion and meeting so

sad an end. how do i come to be mixed up with the case?" "very simply, sir," inspector baynes answered. "the only document found in the pocket ofthe deceased was a letter from you saying that you would be with him on the night ofhis death. it was the envelope of this letter which gaveus the dead man's name and address. it was after nine this morning when we reachedhis house and found neither you nor anyone else inside it. i wired to mr. gregson to run you down inlondon while i examined wisteria lodge.

then i came into town, joined mr. gregson,and here we are." "i think now," said gregson, rising, "we hadbest put this matter into an official shape. you will come round with us to the station,mr. scott eccles, and let us have your statement in writing." "certainly, i will come at once. but i retain your services, mr. holmes. i desire you to spare no expense and no painsto get at the truth." my friend turned to the country inspector. "i suppose that you have no objection to mycollaborating with you, mr. baynes?"

"highly honoured, sir, i am sure." "you appear to have been very prompt and businesslikein all that you have done. was there any clue, may i ask, as to the exacthour that the man met his death?" "he had been there since one o'clock. there was rain about that time, and his deathhad certainly been before the rain." "but that is perfectly impossible, mr. baynes,"cried our client. "his voice is unmistakable. i could swear to it that it was he who addressedme in my bedroom at that very hour." "remarkable, but by no means impossible,"said holmes, smiling.

"you have a clue?" asked gregson. "on the face of it the case is not a verycomplex one, though it certainly presents some novel and interesting features. a further knowledge of facts is necessarybefore i would venture to give a final and definite opinion. by the way, mr. baynes, did you find anythingremarkable besides this note in your examination of the house?" the detective looked at my friend in a singularway. "there were," said he, "one or two _very_remarkable things.

perhaps when i have finished at the police-stationyou would care to come out and give me your opinion of them." "i am entirely at your service," said sherlockholmes, ringing the bell. "you will show these gentlemen out, mrs. hudson,and kindly send the boy with this telegram. he is to pay a five-shilling reply." we sat for some time in silence after ourvisitors had left. holmes smoked hard, with his browns drawndown over his keen eyes, and his head thrust forward in the eager way characteristic ofthe man. "well, watson," he asked, turning suddenlyupon me, "what do you make of it?"

"i can make nothing of this mystificationof scott eccles." "but the crime?" "well, taken with the disappearance of theman's companions, i should say that they were in some way concerned in the murder and hadfled from justice." "that is certainly a possible point of view. on the face of it you must admit, however,that it is very strange that his two servants should have been in a conspiracy against himand should have attacked him on the one night when he had a guest. they had him alone at their mercy every othernight in the week."

"then why did they fly?" "quite so. why did they fly? there is a big fact. another big fact is the remarkable experienceof our client, scott eccles. now, my dear watson, is it beyond the limitsof human ingenuity to furnish an explanation which would cover both of these big facts? if it were one which would also admit of themysterious note with its very curious phraseology, why, then it would be worth accepting as atemporary hypothesis.

if the fresh facts which come to our knowledgeall fit themselves into the scheme, then our hypothesis may gradually become a solution." "but what is our hypothesis?" holmes leaned back in his chair with half-closedeyes. "you must admit, my dear watson, that theidea of a joke is impossible. there were grave events afoot, as the sequelshowed, and the coaxing of scott eccles to wisteria lodge had some connection with them." "but what possible connection?" "let us take it link by link.

there is, on the face of it, something unnaturalabout this strange and sudden friendship between the young spaniard and scott eccles. it was the former who forced the pace. he called upon eccles at the other end oflondon on the very day after he first met him, and he kept in close touch with him untilhe got him down to esher. now, what did he want with eccles? what could eccles supply? i see no charm in the man. he is not particularly intelligent--not aman likely to be congenial to a quick-witted

latin. why, then, was he picked out from all theother people whom garcia met as particularly suited to his purpose? has he any one outstanding quality? i say that he has. he is the very type of conventional britishrespectability, and the very man as a witness to impress another briton. you saw yourself how neither of the inspectorsdreamed of questioning his statement, extraordinary as it was."

"but what was he to witness?" "nothing, as things turned out, but everythinghad they gone another way. that is how i read the matter." "i see, he might have proved an alibi." "exactly, my dear watson; he might have provedan alibi. we will suppose, for argument's sake, thatthe household of wisteria lodge are confederates in some design. the attempt, whatever it may be, is to comeoff, we will say, before one o'clock. by some juggling of the clocks it is quitepossible that they may have got scott eccles

to bed earlier than he thought, but in anycase it is likely that when garcia went out of his way to tell him that it was one itwas really not more than twelve. if garcia could do whatever he had to do andbe back by the hour mentioned he had evidently a powerful reply to any accusation. here was this irreproachable englishman readyto swear in any court of law that the accused was in the house all the time. it was an insurance against the worst." "yes, yes, i see that. but how about the disappearance of the others?"

"i have not all my facts yet, but i do notthink there are any insuperable difficulties. still, it is an error to argue in front ofyour data. you find yourself insensibly twisting themround to fit your theories." "and the message?" "how did it run? 'our own colours, green and white.' sounds like racing. 'green open, white shut.' that is clearly a signal.

'main stair, first corridor, seventh right,green baize.' this is an assignation. we may find a jealous husband at the bottomof it all. it was clearly a dangerous quest. she would not have said 'godspeed' had itnot been so. 'd'--that should be a guide." "the man was a spaniard. i suggest that 'd' stands for dolores, a commonfemale name in spain." "good, watson, very good--but quite inadmissable.

a spaniard would write to a spaniard in spanish. the writer of this note is certainly english. well, we can only possess our soul in patienceuntil this excellent inspector come back for us. meanwhile we can thank our lucky fate whichhas rescued us for a few short hours from the insufferable fatigues of idleness." an answer had arrived to holmes's telegrambefore our surrey officer had returned. holmes read it and was about to place it inhis notebook when he caught a glimpse of my expectant face.

he tossed it across with a laugh. "we are moving in exalted circles," said he. the telegram was a list of names and addresses:lord harringby, the dingle; sir george ffolliott, oxshott towers; mr. hynes hynes, j.p., purdleyplace; mr. james baker williams, forton old hall; mr. henderson, high gable; rev. joshuastone, nether walsling. "this is a very obvious way of limiting ourfield of operations," said holmes. "no doubt baynes, with his methodical mind,has already adopted some similar plan." "i don't quite understand." "well, my dear fellow, we have already arrivedat the conclusion that the message received

by garcia at dinner was an appointment oran assignation. now, if the obvious reading of it is correct,and in order to keep the tryst one has to ascend a main stair and seek the seventh doorin a corridor, it is perfectly clear that the house is a very large one. it is equally certain that this house cannotbe more than a mile or two from oxshott, since garcia was walking in that direction and hoped,according to my reading of the facts, to be back in wisteria lodge in time to avail himselfof an alibi, which would only be valid up to one o'clock. as the number of large houses close to oxshottmust be limited, i adopted the obvious method

of sending to the agents mentioned by scotteccles and obtaining a list of them. here they are in this telegram, and the otherend of our tangled skein must lie among them." it was nearly six o'clock before we foundourselves in the pretty surrey village of esher, with inspector baynes as our companion. holmes and i had taken things for the night,and found comfortable quarters at the bull. finally we set out in the company of the detectiveon our visit to wisteria lodge. it was a cold, dark march evening, with asharp wind and a fine rain beating upon our faces, a fit setting for the wild common overwhich our road passed and the tragic goal to which it led us.

chapter 2. the tiger of san pedro a cold and melancholy walk of a couple ofmiles brought us to a high wooden gate, which opened into a gloomy avenue of chestnuts. the curved and shadowed drive led us to alow, dark house, pitch-black against a slate-coloured sky. from the front window upon the left of thedoor there peeped a glimmer of a feeble light. "there's a constable in possession," saidbaynes. "i'll knock at the window."

he stepped across the grass plot and tappedwith his hand on the pane. through the fogged glass i dimly saw a manspring up from a chair beside the fire, and heard a sharp cry from within the room. an instant later a white-faced, hard-breathingpoliceman had opened the door, the candle wavering in his trembling hand. "what's the matter, walters?" asked baynessharply. the man mopped his forehead with his handkerchiefand gave a long sigh of relief. "i am glad you have come, sir. it has been a long evening, and i don't thinkmy nerve is as good as it was."

"your nerve, walters? i should not have thought you had a nervein your body." "well, sir, it's this lonely, silent houseand the queer thing in the kitchen. then when you tapped at the window i thoughtit had come again." "that what had come again?" "the devil, sir, for all i know. it was at the window." "what was at the window, and when?" "it was just about two hours ago.

the light was just fading. i was sitting reading in the chair. i don't know what made me look up, but therewas a face looking in at me through the lower pane. lord, sir, what a face it was! i'll see it in my dreams." "tut, tut, walters. this is not talk for a police-constable." "i know, sir, i know; but it shook me, sir,and there's no use to deny it.

it wasn't black, sir, nor was it white, norany colour that i know but a kind of queer shade like clay with a splash of milk in it. then there was the size of it--it was twiceyours, sir. and the look of it--the great staring goggleeyes, and the line of white teeth like a hungry beast. i tell you, sir, i couldn't move a finger,nor get my breath, till it whisked away and was gone. out i ran and through the shrubbery, but thankgod there was no one there." "if i didn't know you were a good man, walters,i should put a black mark against you for

this. if it were the devil himself a constable onduty should never thank god that he could not lay his hands upon him. i suppose the whole thing is not a visionand a touch of nerves?" "that, at least, is very easily settled,"said holmes, lighting his little pocket lantern. "yes," he reported, after a short examinationof the grass bed, "a number twelve shoe, i should say. if he was all on the same scale as his foothe must certainly have been a giant." "what became of him?"

"he seems to have broken through the shrubberyand made for the road." "well," said the inspector with a grave andthoughtful face, "whoever he may have been, and whatever he may have wanted, he's gonefor the present, and we have more immediate things to attend to. now, mr. holmes, with your permission, i willshow you round the house." the various bedrooms and sitting-rooms hadyielded nothing to a careful search. apparently the tenants had brought littleor nothing with them, and all the furniture down to the smallest details had been takenover with the house. a good deal of clothing with the stamp ofmarx and co., high holborn, had been left

behind. telegraphic inquiries had been already madewhich showed that marx knew nothing of his customer save that he was a good payer. odds and ends, some pipes, a few novels, twoof them in spanish, an old-fashioned pinfire revolver, and a guitar were among the personalproperty. "nothing in all this," said baynes, stalking,candle in hand, from room to room. "but now, mr. holmes, i invite your attentionto the kitchen." it was a gloomy, high-ceilinged room at theback of the house, with a straw litter in one corner, which served apparently as a bedfor the cook.

the table was piled with half-eaten dishesand dirty plates, the debris of last night's dinner. "look at this," said baynes. "what do you make of it?" he held up his candle before an extraordinaryobject which stood at the back of the dresser. it was so wrinkled and shrunken and witheredthat it was difficult to say what it might have been. one could but say that it was black and leatheryand that it bore some resemblance to a dwarfish, human figure.

at first, as i examined it, i thought thatit was a mummified negro baby, and then it seemed a very twisted and ancient monkey. finally i was left in doubt as to whetherit was animal or human. a double band of white shells were strunground the centre of it. "very interesting--very interesting, indeed!"said holmes, peering at this sinister relic. "anything more?" in silence baynes led the way to the sinkand held forward his candle. the limbs and body of some large, white bird,torn savagely to pieces with the feathers still on, were littered all over it.

holmes pointed to the wattles on the severedhead. "a white cock," said he. "most interesting! it is really a very curious case." but mr. baynes had kept his most sinisterexhibit to the last. from under the sink he drew a zinc pail whichcontained a quantity of blood. then from the table he took a platter heapedwith small pieces of charred bone. "something has been killed and something hasbeen burned. we raked all these out of the fire.

we had a doctor in this morning. he says that they are not human." holmes smiled and rubbed his hands. "i must congratulate you, inspector, on handlingso distinctive and instructive a case. your powers, if i may say so without offence,seem superior to your opportunities." inspector baynes's small eyes twinkled withpleasure. "you're right, mr. holmes. we stagnate in the provinces. a case of this sort gives a man a chance,and i hope that i shall take it.

what do you make of these bones?" "a lamb, i should say, or a kid." "and the white cock?" "curious, mr. baynes, very curious. i should say almost unique." "yes, sir, there must have been some verystrange people with some very strange ways in this house. one of them is dead. did his companions follow him and kill him?

if they did we should have them, for everyport is watched. but my own views are different. yes, sir, my own views are very different." "you have a theory then?" "and i'll work it myself, mr. holmes. it's only due to my own credit to do so. your name is made, but i have still to makemine. i should be glad to be able to say afterwardsthat i had solved it without your help." holmes laughed good-humoredly.

"well, well, inspector," said he. "do you follow your path and i will followmine. my results are always very much at your serviceif you care to apply to me for them. i think that i have seen all that i wish inthis house, and that my time may be more profitably employed elsewhere. au revoir and good luck!" i could tell by numerous subtle signs, whichmight have been lost upon anyone but myself, that holmes was on a hot scent. as impassive as ever to the casual observer,there were none the less a subdued eagerness

and suggestion of tension in his brightenedeyes and brisker manner which assured me that the game was afoot. after his habit he said nothing, and aftermine i asked no questions. sufficient for me to share the sport and lendmy humble help to the capture without distracting that intent brain with needless interruption. all would come round to me in due time. i waited, therefore--but to my ever-deepeningdisappointment i waited in vain. day succeeded day, and my friend took no stepforward. one morning he spent in town, and i learnedfrom a casual reference that he had visited

the british museum. save for this one excursion, he spent hisdays in long and often solitary walks, or in chatting with a number of village gossipswhose acquaintance he had cultivated. "i'm sure, watson, a week in the country willbe invaluable to you," he remarked. "it is very pleasant to see the first greenshoots upon the hedges and the catkins on the hazels once again. with a spud, a tin box, and an elementarybook on botany, there are instructive days to be spent." he prowled about with this equipment himself,but it was a poor show of plants which he

would bring back of an evening. occasionally in our rambles we came acrossinspector baynes. his fat, red face wreathed itself in smilesand his small eyes glittered as he greeted my companion. he said little about the case, but from thatlittle we gathered that he also was not dissatisfied at the course of events. i must admit, however, that i was somewhatsurprised when, some five days after the crime, i opened my morning paper to find in largeletters: the oxshott mysterya solution

arrest of supposed assassinholmes sprang in his chair as if he had been stung when i read the headlines. "by jove!" he cried. "you don't mean that baynes has got him?" "apparently," said i as i read the followingreport: "great excitement was caused in esher andthe neighbouring district when it was learned late last night that an arrest had been effectedin connection with the oxshott murder. it will be remembered that mr. garcia, ofwisteria lodge, was found dead on oxshott common, his body showing signs of extremeviolence, and that on the same night his servant

and his cook fled, which appeared to showtheir participation in the crime. it was suggested, but never proved, that thedeceased gentleman may have had valuables in the house, and that their abstraction wasthe motive of the crime. every effort was made by inspector baynes,who has the case in hand, to ascertain the hiding place of the fugitives, and he hadgood reason to believe that they had not gone far but were lurking in some retreat whichhad been already prepared. it was certain from the first, however, thatthey would eventually be detected, as the cook, from the evidence of one or two tradespeoplewho have caught a glimpse of him through the window, was a man of most remarkable appearance--beinga huge and hideous mulatto, with yellowish

features of a pronounced negroid type. this man has been seen since the crime, forhe was detected and pursued by constable walters on the same evening, when he had the audacityto revisit wisteria lodge. inspector baynes, considering that such avisit must have some purpose in view and was likely, therefore, to be repeated, abandonedthe house but left an ambuscade in the shrubbery. the man walked into the trap and was capturedlast night after a struggle in which constable downing was badly bitten by the savage. we understand that when the prisoner is broughtbefore the magistrates a remand will be applied for by the police, and that great developmentsare hoped from his capture."

"really we must see baynes at once," criedholmes, picking up his hat. "we will just catch him before he starts." we hurried down the village street and found,as we had expected, that the inspector was just leaving his lodgings. "you've seen the paper, mr. holmes?" he asked,holding one out to us. "yes, baynes, i've seen it. pray don't think it a liberty if i give youa word of friendly warning." "of warning, mr. holmes?" "i have looked into this case with some care,and i am not convinced that you are on the

right lines. i don't want you to commit yourself too farunless you are sure." "you're very kind, mr. holmes." "i assure you i speak for your good." it seemed to me that something like a winkquivered for an instant over one of mr. baynes's tiny eyes. "we agreed to work on our own lines, mr. holmes. that's what i am doing." "oh, very good," said holmes.

"don't blame me." "no, sir; i believe you mean well by me. but we all have our own systems, mr. holmes. you have yours, and maybe i have mine." "let us say no more about it." "you're welcome always to my news. this fellow is a perfect savage, as strongas a cart-horse and as fierce as the devil. he chewed downing's thumb nearly off beforethey could master him. he hardly speaks a word of english, and wecan get nothing out of him but grunts."

"and you think you have evidence that he murderedhis late master?" "i didn't say so, mr. holmes; i didn't sayso. we all have our little ways. you try yours and i will try mine. that's the agreement." holmes shrugged his shoulders as we walkedaway together. "i can't make the man out. he seems to be riding for a fall. well, as he says, we must each try our ownway and see what comes of it.

but there's something in inspector bayneswhich i can't quite understand." "just sit down in that chair, watson," saidsherlock holmes when we had returned to our apartment at the bull. "i want to put you in touch with the situation,as i may need your help to-night. let me show you the evolution of this caseso far as i have been able to follow it. simple as it has been in its leading features,it has none the less presented surprising difficulties in the way of an arrest. there are gaps in that direction which wehave still to fill. "we will go back to the note which was handedin to garcia upon the evening of his death.

we may put aside this idea of baynes's thatgarcia's servants were concerned in the matter. the proof of this lies in the fact that itwas _he_ who had arranged for the presence of scott eccles, which could only have beendone for the purpose of an alibi. it was garcia, then, who had an enterprise,and apparently a criminal enterprise, in hand that night in the course of which he met hisdeath. i say 'criminal' because only a man with acriminal enterprise desires to establish an alibi. who, then, is most likely to have taken hislife? surely the person against whom the criminalenterprise was directed.

so far it seems to me that we are on safeground. "we can now see a reason for the disappearanceof garcia's household. they were _all_ confederates in the same unknowncrime. if it came off when garcia returned, any possiblesuspicion would be warded off by the englishman's evidence, and all would be well. but the attempt was a dangerous one, and ifgarcia did _not_ return by a certain hour it was probable that his own life had beensacrificed. it had been arranged, therefore, that in sucha case his two subordinates were to make for some prearranged spot where they could escapeinvestigation and be in a position afterwards

to renew their attempt. that would fully explain the facts, wouldit not?" the whole inexplicable tangle seemed to straightenout before me. i wondered, as i always did, how it had notbeen obvious to me before. "but why should one servant return?" "we can imagine that in the confusion of flightsomething precious, something which he could not bear to part with, had been left behind. that would explain his persistence, wouldit not?" "well, what is the next step?"

"the next step is the note received by garciaat the dinner. it indicates a confederate at the other end. now, where was the other end? i have already shown you that it could onlylie in some large house, and that the number of large houses is limited. my first days in this village were devotedto a series of walks in which in the intervals of my botanical researches i made a reconnaissanceof all the large houses and an examination of the family history of the occupants. one house, and only one, riveted my attention.

it is the famous old jacobean grange of highgable, one mile on the farther side of oxshott, and less than half a mile from the scene ofthe tragedy. the other mansions belonged to prosaic andrespectable people who live far aloof from romance. but mr. henderson, of high gable, was by allaccounts a curious man to whom curious adventures might befall. i concentrated my attention, therefore, uponhim and his household. "a singular set of people, watson--the manhimself the most singular of them all. i managed to see him on a plausible pretext,but i seemed to read in his dark, deepset,

brooding eyes that he was perfectly awareof my true business. he is a man of fifty, strong, active, withiron-gray hair, great bunched black eyebrows, the step of a deer and the air of an emperor--afierce, masterful man, with a red-hot spirit behind his parchment face. he is either a foreigner or has lived longin the tropics, for he is yellow and sapless, but tough as whipcord. his friend and secretary, mr. lucas, is undoubtedlya foreigner, chocolate brown, wily, suave, and catlike, with a poisonous gentleness ofspeech. you see, watson, we have come already upontwo sets of foreigners--one at wisteria lodge

and one at high gable--so our gaps are beginningto close. "these two men, close and confidential friends,are the centre of the household; but there is one other person who for our immediatepurpose may be even more important. henderson has two children--girls of elevenand thirteen. their governess is a miss burnet, an englishwomanof forty or thereabouts. there is also one confidential manservant. this little group forms the real family, forthey travel about together, and henderson is a great traveller, always on the move. it is only within the last weeks that he hasreturned, after a year's absence, to high

gable. i may add that he is enormously rich, andwhatever his whims may be he can very easily satisfy them. for the rest, his house is full of butlers,footmen, maidservants, and the usual overfed, underworked staff of a large english countryhouse. "so much i learned partly from village gossipand partly from my own observation. there are no better instruments than dischargedservants with a grievance, and i was lucky enough to find one. i call it luck, but it would not have comemy way had i not been looking out for it.

as baynes remarks, we all have our systems. it was my system which enabled me to findjohn warner, late gardener of high gable, sacked in a moment of temper by his imperiousemployer. he in turn had friends among the indoor servantswho unite in their fear and dislike of their master. so i had my key to the secrets of the establishment. "curious people, watson! i don't pretend to understand it all yet,but very curious people anyway. it's a double-winged house, and the servantslive on one side, the family on the other.

there's no link between the two save for henderson'sown servant, who serves the family's meals. everything is carried to a certain door, whichforms the one connection. governess and children hardly go out at all,except into the garden. henderson never by any chance walks alone. his dark secretary is like his shadow. the gossip among the servants is that theirmaster is terribly afraid of something. 'sold his soul to the devil in exchange formoney,' says warner, 'and expects his creditor to come up and claim his own.' where they came from, or who they are, nobodyhas an idea.

they are very violent. twice henderson has lashed at folk with hisdog-whip, and only his long purse and heavy compensation have kept him out of the courts. "well, now, watson, let us judge the situationby this new information. we may take it that the letter came out ofthis strange household and was an invitation to garcia to carry out some attempt whichhad already been planned. who wrote the note? it was someone within the citadel, and itwas a woman. who then but miss burnet, the governess?

all our reasoning seems to point that way. at any rate, we may take it as a hypothesisand see what consequences it would entail. i may add that miss burnet's age and charactermake it certain that my first idea that there might be a love interest in our story is outof the question. "if she wrote the note she was presumablythe friend and confederate of garcia. what, then, might she be expected to do ifshe heard of his death? if he met it in some nefarious enterpriseher lips might be sealed. still, in her heart, she must retain bitternessand hatred against those who had killed him and would presumably help so far as she couldto have revenge upon them.

could we see her, then and try to use her? that was my first thought. but now we come to a sinister fact. miss burnet has not been seen by any humaneye since the night of the murder. from that evening she has utterly vanished. is she alive? has she perhaps met her end on the same nightas the friend whom she had summoned? or is she merely a prisoner? there is the point which we still have todecide.

"you will appreciate the difficulty of thesituation, watson. there is nothing upon which we can apply fora warrant. our whole scheme might seem fantastic if laidbefore a magistrate. the woman's disappearance counts for nothing,since in that extraordinary household any member of it might be invisible for a week. and yet she may at the present moment be indanger of her life. all i can do is to watch the house and leavemy agent, warner, on guard at the gates. we can't let such a situation continue. if the law can do nothing we must take therisk ourselves."

"what do you suggest?" "i know which is her room. it is accessible from the top of an outhouse. my suggestion is that you and i go to-nightand see if we can strike at the very heart of the mystery." it was not, i must confess, a very alluringprospect. the old house with its atmosphere of murder,the singular and formidable inhabitants, the unknown dangers of the approach, and the factthat we were putting ourselves legally in a false position all combined to damp my ardour.

but there was something in the ice-cold reasoningof holmes which made it impossible to shrink from any adventure which he might recommend. one knew that thus, and only thus, could asolution be found. i clasped his hand in silence, and the diewas cast. but it was not destined that our investigationshould have so adventurous an ending. it was about five o'clock, and the shadowsof the march evening were beginning to fall, when an excited rustic rushed into our room. "they've gone, mr. holmes. they went by the last train.

the lady broke away, and i've got her in acab downstairs." "excellent, warner!" cried holmes, springingto his feet. "watson, the gaps are closing rapidly." in the cab was a woman, half-collapsed fromnervous exhaustion. she bore upon her aquiline and emaciated facethe traces of some recent tragedy. her head hung listlessly upon her breast,but as she raised it and turned her dull eyes upon us i saw that her pupils were dark dotsin the centre of the broad gray iris. she was drugged with opium. "i watched at the gate, same as you advised,mr. holmes," said our emissary, the discharged

gardener. "when the carriage came out i followed itto the station. she was like one walking in her sleep, butwhen they tried to get her into the train she came to life and struggled. they pushed her into the carriage. she fought her way out again. i took her part, got her into a cab, and herewe are. i shan't forget the face at the carriage windowas i led her away. i'd have a short life if he had his way--theblack-eyed, scowling, yellow devil."

we carried her upstairs, laid her on the sofa,and a couple of cups of the strongest coffee soon cleared her brain from the mists of thedrug. baynes had been summoned by holmes, and thesituation rapidly explained to him. "why, sir, you've got me the very evidencei want," said the inspector warmly, shaking my friend by the hand. "i was on the same scent as you from the first." "what! you were after henderson?" "why, mr. holmes, when you were crawling inthe shrubbery at high gable i was up one of

the trees in the plantation and saw you downbelow. it was just who would get his evidence first." "then why did you arrest the mulatto?" baynes chuckled. "i was sure henderson, as he calls himself,felt that he was suspected, and that he would lie low and make no move so long as he thoughthe was in any danger. i arrested the wrong man to make him believethat our eyes were off him. i knew he would be likely to clear off thenand give us a chance of getting at miss burnet." holmes laid his hand upon the inspector'sshoulder.

"you will rise high in your profession. you have instinct and intuition," said he. baynes flushed with pleasure. "i've had a plain-clothes man waiting at thestation all the week. wherever the high gable folk go he will keepthem in sight. but he must have been hard put to it whenmiss burnet broke away. however, your man picked her up, and it allends well. we can't arrest without her evidence, thatis clear, so the sooner we get a statement the better."

"every minute she gets stronger," said holmes,glancing at the governess. "but tell me, baynes, who is this man henderson?" "henderson," the inspector answered, "is donmurillo, once called the tiger of san pedro." the tiger of san pedro! the whole history of the man came back tome in a flash. he had made his name as the most lewd andbloodthirsty tyrant that had ever governed any country with a pretence to civilization. strong, fearless, and energetic, he had sufficientvirtue to enable him to impose his odious vices upon a cowering people for ten or twelveyears.

his name was a terror through all centralamerica. at the end of that time there was a universalrising against him. but he was as cunning as he was cruel, andat the first whisper of coming trouble he had secretly conveyed his treasures aboarda ship which was manned by devoted adherents. it was an empty palace which was stormed bythe insurgents next day. the dictator, his two children, his secretary,and his wealth had all escaped them. from that moment he had vanished from theworld, and his identity had been a frequent subject for comment in the european press. "yes, sir, don murillo, the tiger of san pedro,"said baynes.

"if you look it up you will find that thesan pedro colours are green and white, same as in the note, mr. holmes. henderson he called himself, but i tracedhim back, paris and rome and madrid to barcelona, where his ship came in in '86. they've been looking for him all the timefor their revenge, but it is only now that they have begun to find him out." "they discovered him a year ago," said missburnet, who had sat up and was now intently following the conversation. "once already his life has been attempted,but some evil spirit shielded him.

now, again, it is the noble, chivalrous garciawho has fallen, while the monster goes safe. but another will come, and yet another, untilsome day justice will be done; that is as certain as the rise of to-morrow's sun." her thin hands clenched, and her worn faceblanched with the passion of her hatred. "but how come you into this matter, miss burnet?"asked holmes. "how can an english lady join in such a murderousaffair?" "i join in it because there is no other wayin the world by which justice can be gained. what does the law of england care for therivers of blood shed years ago in san pedro, or for the shipload of treasure which thisman has stolen?

to you they are like crimes committed in someother planet. but _we_ know. we have learned the truth in sorrow and insuffering. to us there is no fiend in hell like juanmurillo, and no peace in life while his victims still cry for vengeance." "no doubt," said holmes, "he was as you say. i have heard that he was atrocious. but how are you affected?" "i will tell you it all.

this villain's policy was to murder, on onepretext or another, every man who showed such promise that he might in time come to be adangerous rival. my husband--yes, my real name is signora victordurando--was the san pedro minister in london. he met me and married me there. a nobler man never lived upon earth. unhappily, murillo heard of his excellence,recalled him on some pretext, and had him shot. with a premonition of his fate he had refusedto take me with him. his estates were confiscated, and i was leftwith a pittance and a broken heart.

"then came the downfall of the tyrant. he escaped as you have just described. but the many whose lives he had ruined, whosenearest and dearest had suffered torture and death at his hands, would not let the matterrest. they banded themselves into a society whichshould never be dissolved until the work was done. it was my part after we had discovered inthe transformed henderson the fallen despot, to attach myself to his household and keepthe others in touch with his movements. this i was able to do by securing the positionof governess in his family.

he little knew that the woman who faced himat every meal was the woman whose husband he had hurried at an hour's notice into eternity. i smiled on him, did my duty to his children,and bided my time. an attempt was made in paris and failed. we zig-zagged swiftly here and there overeurope to throw off the pursuers and finally returned to this house, which he had takenupon his first arrival in england. "but here also the ministers of justice werewaiting. knowing that he would return there, garcia,who is the son of the former highest dignitary in san pedro, was waiting with two trustycompanions of humble station, all three fired

with the same reasons for revenge. he could do little during the day, for murillotook every precaution and never went out save with his satellite lucas, or lopez as he wasknown in the days of his greatness. at night, however, he slept alone, and theavenger might find him. on a certain evening, which had been prearranged,i sent my friend final instructions, for the man was forever on the alert and continuallychanged his room. i was to see that the doors were open andthe signal of a green or white light in a window which faced the drive was to give noticeif all was safe or if the attempt had better be postponed.

"but everything went wrong with us. in some way i had excited the suspicion oflopez, the secretary. he crept up behind me and sprang upon me justas i had finished the note. he and his master dragged me to my room andheld judgment upon me as a convicted traitress. then and there they would have plunged theirknives into me could they have seen how to escape the consequences of the deed. finally, after much debate, they concludedthat my murder was too dangerous. but they determined to get rid forever ofgarcia. they had gagged me, and murillo twisted myarm round until i gave him the address.

i swear that he might have twisted it offhad i understood what it would mean to garcia. lopez addressed the note which i had written,sealed it with his sleeve-link, and sent it by the hand of the servant, jose. how they murdered him i do not know, savethat it was murillo's hand who struck him down, for lopez had remained to guard me. i believe he must have waited among the gorsebushes through which the path winds and struck him down as he passed. at first they were of a mind to let him enterthe house and to kill him as a detected burglar; but they argued that if they were mixed upin an inquiry their own identity would at

once be publicly disclosed and they wouldbe open to further attacks. with the death of garcia, the pursuit mightcease, since such a death might frighten others from the task. "all would now have been well for them hadit not been for my knowledge of what they had done. i have no doubt that there were times whenmy life hung in the balance. i was confined to my room, terrorized by themost horrible threats, cruelly ill-used to break my spirit--see this stab on my shoulderand the bruises from end to end of my arms--and a gag was thrust into my mouth on the oneoccasion when i tried to call from the window.

for five days this cruel imprisonment continued,with hardly enough food to hold body and soul together. this afternoon a good lunch was brought me,but the moment after i took it i knew that i had been drugged. in a sort of dream i remember being half-led,half-carried to the carriage; in the same state i was conveyed to the train. only then, when the wheels were almost moving,did i suddenly realize that my liberty lay in my own hands. i sprang out, they tried to drag me back,and had it not been for the help of this good

man, who led me to the cab, i should neverhad broken away. now, thank god, i am beyond their power forever." we had all listened intently to this remarkablestatement. it was holmes who broke the silence. "our difficulties are not over," he remarked,shaking his head. "our police work ends, but our legal workbegins." "exactly," said i. "a plausible lawyer could make it out as anact of self-defence. there may be a hundred crimes in the background,but it is only on this one that they can be

tried." "come, come," said baynes cheerily, "i thinkbetter of the law than that. self-defence is one thing. to entice a man in cold blood with the objectof murdering him is another, whatever danger you may fear from him. no, no, we shall all be justified when wesee the tenants of high gable at the next guildford assizes." it is a matter of history, however, that alittle time was still to elapse before the tiger of san pedro should meet with his deserts.

wily and bold, he and his companion threwtheir pursuer off their track by entering a lodging-house in edmonton street and leavingby the back-gate into curzon square. from that day they were seen no more in england. some six months afterwards the marquess ofmontalva and signor rulli, his secretary, were both murdered in their rooms at the hotelescurial at madrid. the crime was ascribed to nihilism, and themurderers were never arrested. inspector baynes visited us at baker streetwith a printed description of the dark face of the secretary, and of the masterful features,the magnetic black eyes, and the tufted brows of his master.

we could not doubt that justice, if belated,had come at last. "a chaotic case, my dear watson," said holmesover an evening pipe. "it will not be possible for you to presentin that compact form which is dear to your heart. it covers two continents, concerns two groupsof mysterious persons, and is further complicated by the highly respectable presence of ourfriend, scott eccles, whose inclusion shows me that the deceased garcia had a schemingmind and a well-developed instinct of self-preservation. it is remarkable only for the fact that amida perfect jungle of possibilities we, with our worthy collaborator, the inspector, havekept our close hold on the essentials and

so been guided along the crooked and windingpath. is there any point which is not quite clearto you?" "the object of the mulatto cook's return?" "i think that the strange creature in thekitchen may account for it. the man was a primitive savage from the backwoodsof san pedro, and this was his fetish. when his companion and he had fled to someprearranged retreat--already occupied, no doubt by a confederate--the companion hadpersuaded him to leave so compromising an article of furniture. but the mulatto's heart was with it, and hewas driven back to it next day, when, on reconnoitering

through the window, he found policeman waltersin possession. he waited three days longer, and then hispiety or his superstition drove him to try once more. inspector baynes, who, with his usual astuteness,had minimized the incident before me, had really recognized its importance and had lefta trap into which the creature walked. any other point, watson?" "the torn bird, the pail of blood, the charredbones, all the mystery of that weird kitchen?" holmes smiled as he turned up an entry inhis note-book. "i spent a morning in the british museum readingup on that and other points.

here is a quotation from eckermann's voodooismand the negroid religions: "'the true voodoo-worshipper attempts nothingof importance without certain sacrifices which are intended to propitiate his unclean gods. in extreme cases these rites take the formof human sacrifices followed by cannibalism. the more usual victims are a white cock, whichis plucked in pieces alive, or a black goat, whose throat is cut and body burned.' "so you see our savage friend was very orthodoxin his ritual. it is grotesque, watson," holmes added, ashe slowly fastened his notebook, "but, as i have had occasion to remark, there is butone step from the grotesque to

the horrible."

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