Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS

WHEN I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes casesbetween the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which presentstrange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which tochoose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained publicitythrough the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiarqualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it isthe object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled hisanalytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without anending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and have theirexplanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on thatabsolute logical proof which was so dear to him. There is, however, oneof these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in itsresults that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact thatthere are points in connection with it which never have been, andprobably never will be, entirely cleared up.[218] The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater orless interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under thisone twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the ParadolChamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious clubin the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected withthe loss of the British bark Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures ofthe Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwellpoisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmeswas able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to prove that it had beenwound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had gone tobed within that time-a deduction which was of the greatest importance inclearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, butnone of them present such singular features as the strange train ofcircumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe.It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had setin with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rainhad beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great,hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant fromthe routine of life, and to recognize the presence of those great elementalforces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilization, likeuntamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew higher andlouder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney.Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexinghis records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of ClarkRussell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemedto blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother's, andfor a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at BakerStreet."Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell.Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?""Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encouragevisitors.""A client, then?""If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on sucha day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be somecrony of the landlady's."Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there camea step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his longarm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chairupon which a newcomer must sit. "Come in!" said he.The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside,well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacyin his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and hislong shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he hadcome. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and Icould see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a manwho is weighed down with some great anxiety."I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez to hiseyes. "I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought some tracesof the storm and rain into your snug chamber.""Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes. "They may rest hereon the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the southwest, I see.""Yes, from Horsham."[219] "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps isquite distinctive.""I have come for advice.""That is easily got.""And help.""That is not always so easy.""I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast howyou saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal.""Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.""He said that you could solve anything.""He said too much.""That you are never beaten.""I have been beaten four times-three times by men, and once by awoman.""But what is that compared with the number of your successes?""It is true that I have been generally successful.""Then you may be so with me.""I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me withsome details as to your case.""It is no ordinary one.""None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal.""And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have everlistened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than thosewhich have happened in my own family.""You fill me with interest," said Holmes. "Pray give us the essentialfacts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as tothose details which seem to me to be most important."The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towardsthe blaze."My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, asfar as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is ahereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must goback to the commencement of the affair."You must know that my grandfather had two sons-my uncle Elias and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which heenlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee ofthe Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such successthat he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence."My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man andbecame a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done verywell. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army, and afterwardsunder Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid down his armsmy uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained for three or fouryears. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and took a smallestate in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very considerable fortunein the States, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to thenegroes, and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending thefranchise to them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered,very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition.During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot inthe town. He had a garden and two or three fields round his house, andthere he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks on end hewould never leave his room. He drank [220] a great deal of brandy andsmoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want anyfriends, not even his own brother."He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time whenhe saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be in theyear 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He beggedmy father to let me live with him, and he was very kind to me in his way.When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon anddraughts with me, and he would make me his representative both with theservants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen Iwas quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where Iliked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy.There was one singular exception, however, for he had a single room, alumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, andwhich he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. With aboy's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able tosee more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would beexpected in such a room."One day-it was in March, 1883-a letter with a foreign stamp lay uponthe table in front of the colonel's plate. It was not a common thing for himto receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had nofriends of any sort. 'From India!' said he as he took it up, 'Pondicherrypostmark! What can this be?' Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped fivelittle dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began tolaugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of hisface. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour ofputty, and he glared at the envelope which he still held in his tremblinghand, 'K. K. K.!' he shrieked, and then, 'My God, my God, my sins haveovertaken me!'"'What is it, uncle?' I cried."'Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and sawscrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter Kthree times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried pips.What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the breakfasttable, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with an oldrusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a smallbrass box, like a cashbox, in the other."'They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,' said hewith an oath. 'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, andsend down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.'"I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to stepup to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was amass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box stoodopen and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, with a start,that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in the morningupon the envelope."'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leave myestate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my brother,your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you can enjoy itin peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy,and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to give you such a twoedged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to take. Kindlysign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.'"I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him.The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impressionupon me, and [221] I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mindwithout being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off thevague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation grew lesskeen as the weeks passed, and nothing happened to disturb the usualroutine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. He drankmore than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most ofhis time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon theinside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy andwould burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver inhis hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, and that he was notto be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man or devil. When these hotfits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door andlock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it out no longeragainst the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I haveseen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it werenew raised from a basin."Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuseyour patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunkensallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went tosearch for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which layat the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the waterwas but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his knowneccentricity, brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how hewinced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myselfthat he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, however,and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of some £14,000,which lay to his credit at the bank.""One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee, oneof the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have thedate of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of hissupposed suicide.""The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weekslater, upon the night of May 2d.""Thank you. Pray proceed.""When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request,made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always lockedup. We found the brass box there, although its contents had beendestroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials ofK. K. K. repeated upon it, and 'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and aregister' written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of thepapers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest,there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great manyscattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in America.Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his dutywell and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a dateduring the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostlyconcerned with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from theNorth."Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live atHorsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85.On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry ofsurprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, sittingwith a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips inthe outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what hecalled my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but [222] he looked veryscared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself."'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered."My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I."He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here are the veryletters. But what is this written above them?'"'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his shoulder."'What papers? What sundial?' he asked."'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but the papersmust be those that are destroyed.'"'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in a civilizedland here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does thething come from?'"'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark."'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he. 'What have I to do withsundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.'"'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said."'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.'"'Then let me do so?'"'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.' "It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. Iwent about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings."On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went fromhome to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command ofone of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for itseemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away fromhome. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of hisabsence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come atonce. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which aboundin the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. Ihurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered hisconsciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in thetwilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pitunfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'deathfrom accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connectedwith his death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the ideaof murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, norecord of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need nottell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nighcertain that some foul plot had been woven round him."In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why Idid not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that ourtroubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle's life,and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another."It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and two yearsand eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have livedhappily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passedaway from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I hadbegun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fellin the very shape in which it had come upon my father."The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, andturning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips."This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is London-eastern[223] division. Within are the very words which were upon my father'slast message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'""What have you done?" asked Holmes."Nothing.""Nothing?""To tell the truth"-he sank his face into his thin, white hands-"I havefelt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake iswrithing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless,inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against.""Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are lost.Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair.""I have seen the police.""Ah!""But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that theinspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes,and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the jurystated, and were not to be connected with the warnings."Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!" hecried."They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in thehouse with me.""Has he come with you to-night?""No. His orders were to stay in the house."Again Holmes raved in the air. "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you notcome at once?""I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergastabout my troubles and was advised by him to come to you.""It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have actedbefore this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which youhave placed before us-no suggestive detail which might help us?""There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coatpocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he laidit out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said he, "that on theday when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, unburnedmargins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour. I foundthis single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think thatit may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from amongthe others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mentionof pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a pagefrom some private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's."Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper,which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from abook. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the followingenigmatical notices:4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain, ofSt. Augustine.9th. McCauley cleared.10th. John Swain cleared.12th. Visited Paramore. All well.[224] "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning itto our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. Wecannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must gethome instantly and act.""What shall I do?""There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must putthis piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which youhave described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other paperswere burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one which remains.You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them.Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, asdirected. Do you understand?""Entirely.""Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think thatwe may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave,while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove thepressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up themystery and to punish the guilty parties.""I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat."You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you advise.""Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in themeanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you arethreatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?""By train from Waterloo.""It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you maybe in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely.""I am armed.""That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.""I shall see you at Horsham, then?""No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it.""Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to thebox and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular." He shookhands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still screamed and therain splashed and pattered against the windows. This strange, wild storyseemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements-blown in uponus like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale-and now to have been reabsorbed bythem once more.Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunkforward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit hispipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings asthey chased each other up to the ceiling."I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we havehad none more fantastic than this.""Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four.""Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems tome to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos.""But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to whatthese perils are?""There can be no question as to their nature," he answered."Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursuethis unhappy family?"Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the armsof his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," heremarked, "would, [225] when he had once been shown a single fact in allits bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led upto it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier couldcorrectly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone,so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series ofincidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both beforeand after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone canattain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled allthose who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. To carry theart, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner shouldbe able to utilize all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and thisin itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge,which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is asomewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that aman should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him inhis work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I rememberrightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion.""Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy,astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botanyvariable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any regionwithin fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic,sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer,swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, Ithink, were the main points of my analysis."Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as I saidthen, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all thefurniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in thelumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it. Now, forsuch a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we needcertainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K ofthe American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you.Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may bededuced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumptionthat Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America.Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchangewillingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an Englishprovincial town. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests theidea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as aworking hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drovehim from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce thatby considering the formidable letters which were received by himself andhis successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?""The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and thethird from London.""From East London. What do you deduce from that?""They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship.""Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that theprobability-the strong probability-is that the writer was on board of aship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry,seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfillment, in Dundee itwas only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?""A greater distance to travel.""But the letter had also a greater distance to come."[226] "Then I do not see the point.""There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man ormen are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always sent their singularwarning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You seehow quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. Ifthey had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrivedalmost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weekselapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the difference betweenthe mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel whichbrought the writer.""It is possible.""More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow hasalways fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders totravel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore wecannot count upon delay.""Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentless persecution?""The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importanceto the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite clearthat there must be more than one of them. A single man could not havecarried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. Theremust have been several in it, and they must have been men of resourceand determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of themwho it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of anindividual and becomes the badge of a society.""But of what society?""Have you never-" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinkinghis voice-"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?""I never have."Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here it is,"said he presently:"Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblanceto the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secretsociety was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in theSouthern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed localbranches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee,Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was usedfor political purposes, principally for the terrorizing of the negrovoters and the murdering and driving from the country of thosewho were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually precededby a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic butgenerally recognized shape-a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts,melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victimmight either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly from thecountry. If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly comeupon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. Soperfect was the organization of the society, and so systematic itsmethods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any mansucceeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of itsoutrages were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years theorganization flourished in spite of the efforts of the United Statesgovernment and of the better classes of the community in theSouth. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenlycollapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of thesame sort since that date.[227] "You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "thatthe sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with thedisappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may wellhave been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can understandthat this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in theSouth, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until itis recovered.""Then the page we have seen- -""Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pipsto A, B, and C'-that is, sent the society's warning to them. Then there aresuccessive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and finallythat C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, I think,Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe thatthe only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what Ihave told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done to-night, sohand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour themiserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellowmen."It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subduedbrightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. SherlockHolmes was already at breakfast when I came down."You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, Iforesee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of youngOpenshaw's.""What steps will you take?" I asked."It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I mayhave to go down to Horsham, after all.""You will not go there first?""No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maidwill bring up your coffee."As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table andglanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to myheart."Holmes," I cried, "you are too late.""Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was itdone?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved."My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy NearWaterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:"Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of theH Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help anda splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark andstormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it wasquite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, wasgiven, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventuallyrecovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name,as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, wasJohn Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It isconjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch the lasttrain from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and the extremedarkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one ofthe small landing-places for river steamboats. The body exhibitedno traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the deceasedhad been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which [228] shouldhave the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to thecondition of the riverside landing-stages."We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed andshaken than I had ever seen him."That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty feeling, nodoubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me now,and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to hisdeath- -!" He sprang from his chair and paced about the room inuncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and anervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands."They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could theyhave decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct lineto the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such anight, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in thelong run. I am going out now!""To the police?""No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they maytake the flies, but not before."All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in theevening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not comeback yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale andworn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf hedevoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of water."You are hungry," I remarked."Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing sincebreakfast.""Nothing?""Not a bite. I had no time to think of it.""And how have you succeeded?""Well.""You have a clue?" "I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall notlong remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trademark upon them. It is well thought of!""What do you mean?"He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces hesqueezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrustthem into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote "S. H. for J. O."Then he sealed it and addressed it to "Captain James Calhoun, Bark LoneStar, Savannah, Georgia.""That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling. "It maygive him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his fate asOpenshaw did before him.""And who is this Captain Calhoun?""The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.""How did you trace it, then?"He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with datesand names."I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registers and filesof the old papers, following the future career of every vessel whichtouched at Pondicherry in January and February in '83. There were thirtysix ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months.Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly [229] attracted my attention, since,although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is thatwhich is given to one of the states of the Union.""Texas, I think.""I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must havean American origin.""What then?""I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the bark LoneStar was there in January, '85, my suspicion became a certainty. I theninquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London.""Yes?""The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the AlbertDock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tidethis morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to Gravesend andlearned that she had passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly Ihave no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not very far fromthe Isle of Wight.""What will you do, then?""Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are, as I learn,the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns andGermans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship lastnight. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. Bythe time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will havecarried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police ofSavannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a chargeof murder."There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and themurderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves,was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the equinoctialgales that year. We waited long for news of the Lone Star of Savannah,but none ever reached us. We did at last hear that somewhere far out inthe Atlantic a shattered stern-post of the boat was seen swinging in thetrough of a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that is allwhich we shall ever know of the fate of the Lone Star.