Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Return of Sherlock Holmes BLACK PETER

I HAVE never known my friend to be in better form, both mental andphysical, than in the year '95. His increasing fame had brought with it animmense practice, and I should be guilty of an indiscretion if I were evento hint at the identity of some of [559] the illustrious clients who crossedour humble threshold in Baker Street. Holmes, however, like all greatartists, lived for his art's sake, and, save in the case of the Duke ofHoldernesse, I have seldom known him claim any large reward for hisinestimable services. So unworldly was he-or so capricious-that hefrequently refused his help to the powerful and wealthy where theproblem made no appeal to his sympathies, while he would devote weeksof most intense application to the affairs of some humble client whosecase presented those strange and dramatic qualities which appealed to hisimagination and challenged his ingenuity.In this memorable year '95, a curious and incongruous succession ofcases had engaged his attention, ranging from his famous investigation ofthe sudden death of Cardinal Tosca-an inquiry which was carried out byhim at the express desire of His Holiness the Pope-down to his arrest ofWilson, the notorious canary-trainer, which removed a plague-spot fromthe East End of London. Close on the heels of these two famous casescame the tragedy of Woodman's Lee, and the very obscure circumstanceswhich surrounded the death of Captain Peter Carey. No record of thedoings of Mr. Sherlock Holmes would be complete which did not includesome account of this very unusual affair.During the first week of July, my friend had been absent so often andso long from our lodgings that I knew he had something on hand. The factthat several rough-looking men called during that time and inquired forCaptain Basil made me understand that Holmes was working somewhereunder one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealedhis own formidable identity. He had at least five small refuges in differentparts of London, in which he was able to change his personality. He saidnothing of his business to me, and it was not my habit to force aconfidence. The first positive sign which he gave me of the directionwhich his investigation was taking was an extraordinary one. He had goneout before breakfast, and I had sat down to mine when he strode into theroom, his hat upon his head and a huge barbed-headed spear tucked likean umbrella under his arm."Good gracious, Holmes!" I cried. "You don't mean to say that youhave been walking about London with that thing?""I drove to the butcher's and back.""The butcher's?""And I return with an excellent appetite. There can be no question, mydear Watson, of the value of exercise before breakfast. But I am preparedto bet that you will not guess the form that my exercise has taken.""I will not attempt it."He chuckled as he poured out the coffee."If you could have looked into Allardyce's back shop, you would haveseen a dead pig swung from a hook in the ceiling, and a gentleman in hisshirt sleeves furiously stabbing at it with this weapon. I was that energeticperson, and I have satisfied myself that by no exertion of my strength canI transfix the pig with a single blow. Perhaps you would care to try?""Not for worlds. But why were you doing this?""Because it seemed to me to have an indirect bearing upon the mysteryof Woodman's Lee. Ah, Hopkins, I got your wire last night, and I havebeen expecting you. Come and join us."Our visitor was an exceedingly alert man, thirty years of age, dressed ina quiet tweed suit, but retaining the erect bearing of one who wasaccustomed to official [560] uniform. I recognized him at once as StanleyHopkins, a young police inspector, for whose future Holmes had highhopes, while he in turn professed the admiration and respect of a pupil forthe scientific methods of the famous amateur. Hopkins's brow wasclouded, and he sat down with an air of deep dejection."No, thank you, sir. I breakfasted before I came round. I spent the nightin town, for I came up yesterday to report.""And what had you to report?""Failure, sir, absolute failure.""You have made no progress?""None.""Dear me! I must have a look at the matter.""I wish to heavens that you would, Mr. Holmes. It's my first bigchance, and I am at my wit's end. For goodness' sake, come down andlend me a hand.""Well, well, it just happens that I have already read all the available evidence, including the report of the inquest, with some care. By the way,what do you make of that tobacco pouch, found on the scene of thecrime? Is there no clue there?"Hopkins looked surprised."It was the man's own pouch, sir. His initials were inside it. And it wasof sealskin-and he was an old sealer.""But he had no pipe.""No, sir, we could find no pipe. Indeed, he smoked very little, and yethe might have kept some tobacco for his friends.""No doubt. I only mention it because, if I had been handling the case, Ishould have been inclined to make that the starting-point of myinvestigation. However, my friend, Dr. Watson, knows nothing of thismatter, and I should be none the worse for hearing the sequence of eventsonce more. Just give us some short sketches of the essentials."Stanley Hopkins drew a slip of paper from his pocket."I have a few dates here which will give you the career of the deadman, Captain Peter Carey. He was born in '45-fifty years of age. He wasa most daring and successful seal and whale fisher. In 1883 hecommanded the steam sealer Sea Unicorn, of Dundee. He had then hadseveral successful voyages in succession, and in the following year, 1884,he retired. After that he travelled for some years, and finally he bought asmall place called Woodman's Lee, near Forest Row, in Sussex. There hehas lived for six years, and there he died just a week ago to-day."There were some most singular points about the man. In ordinary life,he was a strict Puritan-a silent, gloomy fellow. His household consistedof his wife, his daughter, aged twenty, and two female servants. Theselast were continually changing, for it was never a very cheery situation,and sometimes it became past all bearing. The man was an intermittentdrunkard, and when he had the fit on him he was a perfect fiend. He hasbeen known to drive his wife and daughter out of doors in the middle ofthe night and flog them through the park until the whole village outsidethe gates was aroused by their screams."He was summoned once for a savage assault upon the old vicar, whohad called upon him to remonstrate with him upon his conduct. In short,Mr. Holmes, you would go far before you found a more dangerous manthan Peter Carey, and I have heard that he bore the same character whenhe commanded his ship. He was known in the trade as Black Peter, andthe name was given him, not only on [561] account of his swarthy featuresand the colour of his huge beard, but for the humours which were theterror of all around him. I need not say that he was loathed and avoidedby every one of his neighbours, and that I have not heard one single wordof sorrow about his terrible end."You must have read in the account of the inquest about the man'scabin, Mr. Holmes, but perhaps your friend here has not heard of it. Hehad built himself a wooden outhouse-he always called it the 'cabin'-afew hundred yards from his house, and it was here that he slept everynight. It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten. He kept thekey in his pocket, made his own bed, cleaned it himself, and allowed noother foot to cross the threshold. There are small windows on each side, which were covered by curtains and never opened. One of these windowswas turned towards the high road, and when the light burned in it at nightthe folk used to point it out to each other and wonder what Black Peterwas doing in there. That's the window, Mr. Holmes, which gave us one ofthe few bits of positive evidence that came out at the inquest."You remember that a stonemason, named Slater, walking from ForestRow about one o'clock in the morning-two days before themurder-stopped as he passed the grounds and looked at the square oflight still shining among the trees. He swears that the shadow of a man'shead turned sideways was clearly visible on the blind, and that thisshadow was certainly not that of Peter Carey, whom he knew well. It wasthat of a bearded man, but the beard was short and bristled forward in away very different from that of the captain. So he says, but he had beentwo hours in the public-house, and it is some distance from the road to thewindow. Besides, this refers to the Monday, and the crime was done uponthe Wednesday."On the Tuesday, Peter Carey was in one of his blackest moods,flushed with drink and as savage as a dangerous wild beast. He roamedabout the house, and the women ran for it when they heard him coming.Late in the evening, he went down to his own hut. About two o'clock thefollowing morning, his daughter, who slept with her window open, hearda most fearful yell from that direction, but it was no unusual thing for himto bawl and shout when he was in drink, so no notice was taken. On risingat seven, one of the maids noticed that the door of the hut was open, butso great was the terror which the man caused that it was midday beforeanyone would venture down to see what had become of him. Peeping intothe open door, they saw a sight which sent them flying, with white faces,into the village. Within an hour, I was on the spot and had taken over thecase."Well, I have fairly steady nerves, as you know, Mr. Holmes, but I giveyou my word, that I got a shake when I put my head into that little house.It was droning like a harmonium with the flies and bluebottles, and thefloor and walls were like a slaughter-house. He had called it a cabin, anda cabin it was, sure enough, for you would have thought that you were ina ship. There was a bunk at one end, a sea-chest, maps and charts, apicture of the Sea Unicorn, a line of logbooks on a shelf, all exactly asone would expect to find it in a captain's room. And there, in the middleof it, was the man himself-his face twisted like a lost soul in torment, andhis great brindled beard stuck upward in his agony. Right through hisbroad breast a steel harpoon had been driven, and it had sunk deep intothe wood of the wall behind him. He was pinned like a beetle on a card.Of course, he was quite dead, and had been so from the instant that he haduttered that last yell of agony.[562] "I know your methods, sir, and I applied them. Before I permittedanything to be moved, I examined most carefully the ground outside, andalso the floor of the room. There were no footmarks.""Meaning that you saw none?""I assure you, sir, that there were none.""My good Hopkins, I have investigated many crimes, but I have never yet seen one which was committed by a flying creature. As long as thecriminal remains upon two legs so long must there be some indentation,some abrasion, some trifling displacement which can be detected by thescientific searcher. It is incredible that this blood-bespattered roomcontained no trace which could have aided us. I understand, however,from the inquest that there were some objects which you failed tooverlook?"The young inspector winced at my companion's ironical comments."I was a fool not to call you in at the time, Mr. Holmes. However,that's past praying for now. Yes, there were several objects in the roomwhich called for special attention. One was the harpoon with which thedeed was committed. It had been snatched down from a rack on the wall.Two others remained there, and there was a vacant place for the third. Onthe stock was engraved 'SS. Sea Unicorn, Dundee.' This seemed toestablish that the crime had been done in a moment of fury, and that themurderer had seized the first weapon which came in his way. The factthat the crime was committed at two in the morning, and yet Peter Careywas fully dressed, suggested that he had an appointment with themurderer, which is borne out by the fact that a bottle of rum and two dirtyglasses stood upon the table.""Yes," said Holmes; "I think that both inferences are permissible. Wasthere any other spirit but rum in the room?""Yes, there was a tantalus containing brandy and whisky on the seachest. It is of no importance to us, however, since the decanters were full,and it had therefore not been used.""For all that, its presence has some significance," said Holmes."However, let us hear some more about the objects which do seem to youto bear upon the case.""There was this tobacco-pouch upon the table.""What part of the table?""It lay in the middle. It was of coarse sealskin-the straight-haired skin,with a leather thong to bind it. Inside was 'P. C.' on the flap. There washalf an ounce of strong ship's tobacco in it.""Excellent! What more?"Stanley Hopkins drew from his pocket a drab-covered notebook. Theoutside was rough and worn, the leaves discoloured. On the first pagewere written the initials "J. H. N." and the date "1883." Holmes laid it onthe table and examined it in his minute way, while Hopkins and I gazedover each shoulder. On the second page were the printed letters "C. P.R.," and then came several sheets of numbers. Another heading was"Argentine," another "Costa Rica," and another "San Paulo," each withpages of signs and figures after it. "What do you make of these?" asked Holmes."They appear to be lists of Stock Exchange securities. I thought that 'J.H. N.' were the initials of a broker, and that 'C. P. R.' may have been hisclient.""Try Canadian Pacific Railway," said Holmes.Stanley Hopkins swore between his teeth, and struck his thigh with hisclenched hand.[563] "What a fool I have been!" he cried. "Of course, it is as you say.Then 'J. H. N.' are the only initials we have to solve. I have alreadyexamined the old Stock Exchange lists, and I can find no one in 1883,either in the house or among the outside brokers, whose initialscorrespond with these. Yet I feel that the clue is the most important onethat I hold. You will admit, Mr. Holmes, that there is a possibility thatthese initials are those of the second person who was present-in otherwords, of the murderer. I would also urge that the introduction into thecase of a document relating to large masses of valuable securities gives usfor the first time some indication of a motive for the crime."Sherlock Holmes's face showed that he was thoroughly taken aback bythis new development."I must admit both your points," said he. "I confess that this notebook,which did not appear at the inquest, modifies any views which I may haveformed. I had come to a theory of the crime in which I can find no placefor this. Have you endeavoured to trace any of the securities herementioned?""Inquiries are now being made at the offices, but I fear that thecomplete register of the stockholders of these South American concerns isin South America, and that some weeks must elapse before we can tracethe shares." Holmes had been examining the cover of the notebook with hismagnifying lens."Surely there is some discolouration here," said he."Yes, sir, it is a blood-stain. I told you that I picked the book off thefloor.""Was the blood-stain above or below?""On the side next the boards.""Which proves, of course, that the book was dropped after the crimewas committed.""Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I appreciated that point, and I conjectured that itwas dropped by the murderer in his hurried flight. It lay near the door.""I suppose that none of these securities have been found among theproperty of the dead man?""No, sir.""Have you any reason to suspect robbery?""No, sir. Nothing seemed to have been touched.""Dear me, it is certainly a very interesting case. Then there was a knife,was there not?""A sheath-knife, still in its sheath. It lay at the feet of the dead man.Mrs. Carey has identified it as being her husband's property."Holmes was lost in thought for some time."Well," said he, at last, "I suppose I shall have to come out and have alook at it."Stanley Hopkins gave a cry of joy."Thank you, sir. That will, indeed, be a weight off my mind."Holmes shook his finger at the inspector."It would have been an easier task a week ago," said he. "But even nowmy visit may not be entirely fruitless. Watson, if you can spare the time, Ishould be very glad of your company. If you will call a four-wheeler,Hopkins, we shall be ready to start for Forest Row in a quarter of anhour."Alighting at the small wayside station, we drove for some milesthrough the remains of widespread woods, which were once part of thatgreat forest which for [564] so long held the Saxon invaders at bay-theimpenetrable "weald," for sixty years the bulwark of Britain. Vastsections of it have been cleared, for this is the seat of the first iron-worksof the country, and the trees have been felled to smelt the ore. Now thericher fields of the North have absorbed the trade, and nothing save theseravaged groves and great scars in the earth show the work of the past.Here, in a clearing upon the green slope of a hill, stood a long, low, stonehouse, approached by a curving drive running through the fields. Nearerthe road, and surrounded on three sides by bushes, was a small outhouse,one window and the door facing in our direction. It was the scene of themurder.Stanley Hopkins led us first to the house, where he introduced us to ahaggard, gray-haired woman, the widow of the murdered man, whosegaunt and deep-lined face, with the furtive look of terror in the depths ofher red-rimmed eyes, told of the years of hardship and ill-usage which she had endured. With her was her daughter, a pale, fair-haired girl, whoseeyes blazed defiantly at us as she told us that she was glad that her fatherwas dead, and that she blessed the hand which had struck him down. Itwas a terrible household that Black Peter Carey had made for himself, andit was with a sense of relief that we found ourselves in the sunlight againand making our way along a path which had been worn across the fieldsby the feet of the dead man.The outhouse was the simplest of dwellings, wooden-walled, shingleroofed, one window beside the door and one on the farther side. StanleyHopkins drew the key from his pocket and had stooped to the lock, whenhe paused with a look of attention and surprise upon his face."Someone has been tampering with it," he said.There could be no doubt of the fact. The woodwork was cut, and thescratches showed white through the paint, as if they had been that instantdone. Holmes had been examining the window."Someone has tried to force this also. Whoever it was has failed tomake his way in. He must have been a very poor burglar.""This is a most extraordinary thing," said the inspector, "I could swearthat these marks were not here yesterday evening.""Some curious person from the village, perhaps," I suggested."Very unlikely. Few of them would dare to set foot in the grounds, farless try to force their way into the cabin. What do you think of it, Mr.Holmes?""I think that fortune is very kind to us.""You mean that the person will come again?" "It is very probable. He came expecting to find the door open. He triedto get in with the blade of a very small penknife. He could not manage it.What would he do?""Come again next night with a more useful tool.""So I should say. It will be our fault if we are not there to receive him.Meanwhile, let me see the inside of the cabin."The traces of the tragedy had been removed, but the furniture within thelittle room still stood as it had been on the night of the crime. For twohours, with most intense concentration, Holmes examined every object inturn, but his face showed that his quest was not a successful one. Onceonly he paused in his patient investigation."Have you taken anything off this shelf, Hopkins?""No, I have moved nothing."[565] "Something has been taken. There is less dust in this corner of theshelf than elsewhere. It may have been a book lying on its side. It mayhave been a box. Well, well, I can do nothing more. Let us walk in thesebeautiful woods, Watson, and give a few hours to the birds and theflowers. We shall meet you here later, Hopkins, and see if we can come tocloser quarters with the gentleman who has paid this visit in the night."It was past eleven o'clock when we formed our little ambuscade.Hopkins was for leaving the door of the hut open, but Holmes was of theopinion that this would rouse the suspicions of the stranger. The lock wasa perfectly simple one, and only a strong blade was needed to push itback. Holmes also suggested that we should wait, not inside the hut, butoutside it, among the bushes which grew round the farther window. Inthis way we should be able to watch our man if he struck a light, and seewhat his object was in this stealthy nocturnal visit.It was a long and melancholy vigil, and yet brought with it something of the thrill which the hunter feels when he lies beside the water-pool, andwaits for the coming of the thirsty beast of prey. What savage creaturewas it which might steal upon us out of the darkness? Was it a fierce tigerof crime, which could only be taken fighting hard with flashing fang andclaw, or would it prove to be some skulking jackal, dangerous only to theweak and unguarded?In absolute silence we crouched amongst the bushes, waiting forwhatever might come. At first the steps of a few belated villagers, or thesound of voices from the village, lightened our vigil, but one by one theseinterruptions died away, and an absolute stillness fell upon us, save forthe chimes of the distant church, which told us of the progress of thenight, and for the rustle and whisper of a fine rain falling amid the foliagewhich roofed us in.Half-past two had chimed, and it was the darkest hour which precedesthe dawn, when we all started as a low but sharp click came from thedirection of the gate. Someone had entered the drive. Again there was along silence, and I had begun to fear that it was a false alarm, when astealthy step was heard upon the other side of the hut, and a moment latera metallic scraping and clinking. The man was trying to force the lock.This time his skill was greater or his tool was better, for there was asudden snap and the creak of the hinges. Then a match was struck, andnext instant the steady light from a candle filled the interior of the hut.Through the gauze curtain our eyes were all riveted upon the scene within.The nocturnal visitor was a young man, frail and thin, with a blackmoustache, which intensified the deadly pallor of his face. He could not have been much above twenty years of age. I have never seen any humanbeing who appeared to be in such a pitiable fright, for his teeth werevisibly chattering, and he was shaking in every limb. He was dressed likea gentleman, in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a cloth cap uponhis head. We watched him staring round with frightened eyes. Then helaid the candle-end upon the table and disappeared from our view into oneof the corners. He returned with a large book, one of the logbooks whichformed a line upon the shelves. Leaning on the table, he rapidly turnedover the leaves of this volume until he came to the entry which he sought.Then, with an angry gesture of his clenched hand, he closed the book,replaced it in the corner, and put out the light. He had hardly turned toleave the hut when Hopkins's hand was on the fellow's collar, and I heardhis loud gasp of terror as he understood that he was taken. The candle wasrelit, and there was our wretched captive, shivering [566] and cowering inthe grasp of the detective. He sank down upon the sea-chest, and lookedhelplessly from one of us to the other."Now, my fine fellow," said Stanley Hopkins, "who are you, and whatdo you want here?"The man pulled himself together, and faced us with an effort at selfcomposure."You are detectives, I suppose?" said he. "You imagine I am connectedwith the death of Captain Peter Carey. I assure you that I am innocent.""We'll see about that," said Hopkins. "First of all, what is your name?""It is John Hopley Neligan."I saw Holmes and Hopkins exchange a quick glance. "What are you doing here?""Can I speak confidentially?""No, certainly not.""Why should I tell you?""If you have no answer, it may go badly with you at the trial."The young man winced."Well, I will tell you," he said. "Why should I not? And yet I hate tothink of this old scandal gaining a new lease of life. Did you ever hear ofDawson and Neligan?"I could see, from Hopkins's face, that he never had, but Holmes waskeenly interested."You mean the West Country bankers," said he. "They failed for amillion, ruined half the county families of Cornwall, and Neligandisappeared.""Exactly. Neligan was my father."At last we were getting something positive, and yet it seemed a longgap between an absconding banker and Captain Peter Carey pinnedagainst the wall with one of his own harpoons. We all listened intently tothe young man's words."It was my father who was really concerned. Dawson had retired. I wasonly ten years of age at the time, but I was old enough to feel the shameand horror of it all. It has always been said that my father stole all thesecurities and fled. It is not true. It was his belief that if he were giventime in which to realize them, all would be well and every creditor paid infull. He started in his little yacht for Norway just before the warrant wasissued for his arrest. I can remember that last night, when he badefarewell to my mother. He left us a list of the securities he was taking, andhe swore that he would come back with his honour cleared, and that nonewho had trusted him would suffer. Well, no word was ever heard fromhim again. Both the yacht and he vanished utterly. We believed, mymother and I, that he and it, with the securities that he had taken with him,were at the bottom of the sea. We had a faithful friend, however, who is abusiness man, and it was he who discovered some time ago that some ofthe securities which my father had with him had reappeared on theLondon market. You can imagine our amazement. I spent months intrying to trace them, and at last, after many doubtings and difficulties, Idiscovered that the original seller had been Captain Peter Carey, theowner of this hut."Naturally, I made some inquiries about the man. I found that he hadbeen in command of a whaler which was due to return from the Arcticseas at the very time when my father was crossing to Norway. Theautumn of that year was a stormy one, and there was a long succession ofsoutherly gales. My father's yacht may well have been blown to the north,and there met by Captain Peter Carey's [567] ship. If that were so, whathad become of my father? In any case, if I could prove from Peter Carey'sevidence how these securities came on the market it would be a proof thatmy father had not sold them, and that he had no view to personal profitwhen he took them."I came down to Sussex with the intention of seeing the captain, but it was at this moment that his terrible death occurred. I read at the inquest adescription of his cabin, in which it stated that the old logbooks of hisvessel were preserved in it. It struck me that if I could see what occurredin the month of August, 1883, on board the Sea Unicorn, I might settlethe mystery of my father's fate. I tried last night to get at these logbooks,but was unable to open the door. To-night I tried again and succeeded, butI find that the pages which deal with that month have been torn from thebook. It was at that moment I found myself a prisoner in your hands.""Is that all?" asked Hopkins."Yes, that is all." His eyes shifted as he said it."You have nothing else to tell us?"He hesitated."No, there is nothing.""You have not been here before last night?""No.""Then how do you account for that?" cried Hopkins, as he held up thedamning notebook, with the initials of our prisoner on the first leaf andthe blood-stain on the cover.The wretched man collapsed. He sank his face in his hands, andtrembled all over."Where did you get it?" he groaned. "I did not know. I thought I hadlost it at the hotel.""That is enough," said Hopkins, sternly. "Whatever else you have tosay, you must say in court. You will walk down with me now to thepolice-station. Well, Mr. Holmes, I am very much obliged to you and toyour friend for coming down to help me. As it turns out your presencewas unnecessary, and I would have brought the case to this successfulissue without you, but, none the less, I am grateful. Rooms have beenreserved for you at the Brambletye Hotel, so we can all walk down to thevillage together.""Well, Watson, what do you think of it?" asked Holmes, as wetravelled back next morning."I can see that you are not satisfied.""Oh, yes, my dear Watson, I am perfectly satisfied. At the same time,Stanley Hopkins's methods do not commend themselves to me. I amdisappointed in Stanley Hopkins. I had hoped for better things from him.One should always look for a possible alternative, and provide against it.It is the first rule of criminal investigation.""What, then, is the alternative?""The line of investigation which I have myself been pursuing. It maygive us nothing. I cannot tell. But at least I shall follow it to the end."Several letters were waiting for Holmes at Baker Street. He snatchedone of them up, opened it, and burst out into a triumphant chuckle oflaughter."Excellent, Watson! The alternative develops. Have you telegraphforms? Just write a couple of messages for me: 'Sumner, Shipping Agent,Ratcliff Highway. [568] Send three men on, to arrive ten to-morrowmorning.-Basil.' That's my name in those parts. The other is: 'InspectorStanley Hopkins, 46 Lord Street, Brixton. Come breakfast to-morrow at nine-thirty. Important. Wire if unable to come.-Sherlock Holmes.' There,Watson, this infernal case has haunted me for ten days. I hereby banish itcompletely from my presence. To-morrow, I trust that we shall hear thelast of it forever."Sharp at the hour named Inspector Stanley Hopkins appeared, and wesat down together to the excellent breakfast which Mrs. Hudson hadprepared. The young detective was in high spirits at his success."You really think that your solution must be correct?" asked Holmes."I could not imagine a more complete case.""It did not seem to me conclusive.""You astonish me, Mr. Holmes. What more could one ask for?""Does your explanation cover every point?""Undoubtedly. I find that young Neligan arrived at the BrambletyeHotel on the very day of the crime. He came on the pretence of playinggolf. His room was on the ground-floor, and he could get out when heliked. That very night he went down to Woodman's Lee, saw Peter Careyat the hut, quarrelled with him, and killed him with the harpoon. Then,horrified by what he had done, he fled out of the hut, dropping thenotebook which he had brought with him in order to question Peter Careyabout these different securities. You may have observed that some ofthem were marked with ticks, and the others-the great majority -werenot. Those which are ticked have been traced on the London market, butthe others, presumably, were still in the possession of Carey, and youngNeligan, according to his own account, was anxious to recover them inorder to do the right thing by his father's creditors. After his flight he didnot dare to approach the hut again for some time, but at last he forcedhimself to do so in order to obtain the information which he needed.Surely that is all simple and obvious?"Holmes smiled and shook his head."It seems to me to have only one drawback, Hopkins, and that is that itis intrinsically impossible. Have you tried to drive a harpoon through abody? No? Tut, tut, my dear sir, you must really pay attention to thesedetails. My friend Watson could tell you that I spent a whole morning inthat exercise. It is no easy matter, and requires a strong and practised arm.But this blow was delivered with such violence that the head of theweapon sank deep into the wall. Do you imagine that this anaemic youthwas capable of so frightful an assault? Is he the man who hobnobbed inrum and water with Black Peter in the dead of the night? Was it hisprofile that was seen on the blind two nights before? No, no, Hopkins, itis another and more formidable person for whom we must seek."The detective's face had grown longer and longer during Holmes'sspeech. His hopes and his ambitions were all crumbling about him. But hewould not abandon his position without a struggle."You can't deny that Neligan was present that night, Mr. Holmes. Thebook will prove that. I fancy that I have evidence enough to satisfy a jury,even if you are able to pick a hole in it. Besides, Mr. Holmes, I have laidmy hand upon my man. As to this terrible person of yours, where is he?""I rather fancy that he is on the stair," said Holmes, serenely. "I think,Watson, that you would do well to put that revolver where you can reach it." He rose and laid a written paper upon a side-table. "Now we areready," said he.[569] There had been some talking in gruff voices outside, and nowMrs. Hudson opened the door to say that there were three men inquiringfor Captain Basil."Show them in one by one," said Holmes.The first who entered was a little Ribston pippin of a man, with ruddycheeks and fluffy white side-whiskers. Holmes had drawn a letter fromhis pocket."What name?" he asked."James Lancaster.""I am sorry, Lancaster, but the berth is full. Here is half a sovereign foryour trouble. Just step into this room and wait there for a few minutes."The second man was a long, dried-up creature, with lank hair andsallow cheeks. His name was Hugh Pattins. He also received hisdismissal, his half-sovereign, and the order to wait.The third applicant was a man of remarkable appearance. A fierce bulldog face was framed in a tangle of hair and beard, and two bold, darkeyes gleamed behind the cover of thick, tufted, overhung eyebrows. Hesaluted and stood sailor-fashion, turning his cap round in his hands."Your name?" asked Holmes."Patrick Cairns.""Harpooner?""Yes, sir. Twenty-six voyages.""Dundee, I suppose?""Yes, sir.""And ready to start with an exploring ship?""Yes, sir.""What wages?""Eight pounds a month.""Could you start at once?""As soon as I get my kit.""Have you your papers?""Yes, sir." He took a sheaf of worn and greasy forms from his pocket.Holmes glanced over them and returned them."You are just the man I want," said he. "Here's the agreement on theside-table. If you sign it the whole matter will be settled."The seaman lurched across the room and took up the pen."Shall I sign here?" he asked, stooping over the table.Holmes leaned over his shoulder and passed both hands over his neck."This will do," said he.I heard a click of steel and a bellow like an enraged bull. The nextinstant Holmes and the seaman were rolling on the ground together. Hewas a man of such gigantic strength that, even with the handcuffs whichHolmes had so deftly fastened upon his wrists, he would have veryquickly overpowered my friend had Hopkins and I not rushed to hisrescue. Only when I pressed the cold muzzle of the revolver to his templedid he at last understand that resistance was vain. We lashed his ankleswith cord, and rose breathless from the struggle."I must really apologize, Hopkins," said Sherlock Holmes. "I fear thatthe scrambled eggs are cold. However, you will enjoy the rest of yourbreakfast all the better, will you not, for the thought that you have broughtyour case to a triumphant conclusion."Stanley Hopkins was speechless with amazement.[570] "I don't know what to say, Mr. Holmes," he blurted out at last,with a very red face. "It seems to me that I have been making a fool ofmyself from the beginning. I understand now, what I should never haveforgotten, that I am the pupil and you are the master. Even now I see whatyou have done, but I don't know how you did it or what it signifies.""Well, well," said Holmes, good-humouredly. "We all learn byexperience, and your lesson this time is that you should never lose sightof the alternative. You were so absorbed in young Neligan that you couldnot spare a thought to Patrick Cairns, the true murderer of Peter Carey."The hoarse voice of the seaman broke in on our conversation."See here, mister," said he, "I make no complaint of being manhandled in this fashion, but I would have you call things by their rightnames. You say I murdered Peter Carey, I say I killed Peter Carey, andthere's all the difference. Maybe you don't believe what I say. Maybe youthink I am just slinging you a yarn.""Not at all," said Holmes. "Let us hear what you have to say.""It's soon told, and, by the Lord, every word of it is truth. I knew BlackPeter, and when he pulled out his knife I whipped a harpoon through himsharp, for I knew that it was him or me. That's how he died. You can callit murder. Anyhow, I'd as soon die with a rope round my neck as withBlack Peter's knife in my heart.""How came you there?" asked Holmes."I'll tell it you from the beginning. Just sit me up a little, so as I can speak easy. It was in '83 that it happened-August of that year. PeterCarey was master of the Sea Unicorn, and I was spare harpooner. Wewere coming out of the ice-pack on our way home, with head winds and aweek's southerly gale, when we picked up a little craft that had beenblown north. There was one man on her -a landsman. The crew hadthought she would founder and had made for the Norwegian coast in thedinghy. I guess they were all drowned. Well, we took him on board, thisman, and he and the skipper had some long talks in the cabin. All thebaggage we took off with him was one tin box. So far as I know, theman's name was never mentioned, and on the second night hedisappeared as if he had never been. It was given out that he had eitherthrown himself overboard or fallen overboard in the heavy weather thatwe were having. Only one man knew what had happened to him, and thatwas me, for, with my own eyes, I saw the skipper tip up his heels and puthim over the rail in the middle watch of a dark night, two days before wesighted the Shetland Lights."Well, I kept my knowledge to myself, and waited to see what wouldcome of it. When we got back to Scotland it was easily hushed up, andnobody asked any questions. A stranger died by accident, and it wasnobody's business to inquire. Shortly after Peter Carey gave up the sea,and it was long years before I could find where he was. I guessed that hehad done the deed for the sake of what was in that tin box, and that hecould afford now to pay me well for keeping my mouth shut."I found out where he was through a sailor man that had met him in London, and down I went to squeeze him. The first night he wasreasonable enough, and was ready to give me what would make me freeof the sea for life. We were to fix it all two nights later. When I came, Ifound him three parts drunk and in a vile temper. We sat down and wedrank and we yarned about old times, but the more he drank the less Iliked the look on his face. I spotted that harpoon upon the wall, and Ithought I might need it before I was through. Then at last he broke out at[571] me, spitting and cursing, with murder in his eyes and a great claspknife in his hand. He had not time to get it from the sheath before I hadthe harpoon through him. Heavens! what a yell he gave! and his face getsbetween me and my sleep. I stood there, with his blood splashing roundme, and I waited for a bit, but all was quiet, so I took heart once more. Ilooked round, and there was the tin box on the shelf. I had as much rightto it as Peter Carey, anyhow, so I took it with me and left the hut. Like afool I left my baccy-pouch upon the table."Now I'll tell you the queerest part of the whole story. I had hardly gotoutside the hut when I heard someone coming, and I hid among thebushes. A man came slinking along, went into the hut, gave a cry as if hehad seen a ghost, and legged it as hard as he could run until he was out ofsight. Who he was or what he wanted is more than I can tell. For my part Iwalked ten miles, got a train at Tunbridge Wells, and so reached London,and no one the wiser."Well, when I came to examine the box I found there was no money init, and nothing but papers that I would not dare to sell. I had lost my holdon Black Peter and was stranded in London without a shilling. There wasonly my trade left. I saw these advertisements about harpooners, and highwages, so I went to the shipping agents, and they sent me here. That's allI know, and I say again that if I killed Black Peter, the law should give methanks, for I saved them the price of a hempen rope.""A very clear statement," said Holmes, rising and lighting his pipe. "Ithink, Hopkins, that you should lose no time in conveying your prisonerto a place of safety. This room is not well adapted for a cell, and Mr.Patrick Cairns occupies too large a proportion of our carpet.""Mr. Holmes," said Hopkins, "I do not know how to express mygratitude. Even now I do not understand how you attained this result.""Simply by having the good fortune to get the right clue from thebeginning. It is very possible if I had known about this notebook it mighthave led away my thoughts, as it did yours. But all I heard pointed in theone direction. The amazing strength, the skill in the use of the harpoon,the rum and water, the sealskin tobacco-pouch with the coarse tobacco-allthese pointed to a seaman, and one who had been a whaler. I wasconvinced that the initials 'P. C.' upon the pouch were a coincidence, andnot those of Peter Carey, since he seldom smoked, and no pipe was foundin his cabin. You remember that I asked whether whisky and brandy werein the cabin. You said they were. How many landsmen are there whowould drink rum when they could get these other spirits? Yes, I wascertain it was a seaman.""And how did you find him?""My dear sir, the problem had become a very simple one. If it were a seaman, it could only be a seaman who had been with him on the SeaUnicorn. So far as I could learn he had sailed in no other ship. I spentthree days in wiring to Dundee, and at the end of that time I hadascertained the names of the crew of the Sea Unicorn in 1883. When Ifound Patrick Cairns among the harpooners, my research was nearing itsend. I argued that the man was probably in London, and that he woulddesire to leave the country for a time. I therefore spent some days in theEast End, devised an Arctic expedition, put forth tempting terms forharpooners who would serve under Captain Basil-and behold the result!""Wonderful!" cried Hopkins. "Wonderful!""You must obtain the release of young Neligan as soon as possible,"said Holmes. [572] "I confess that I think you owe him some apology. Thetin box must be returned to him, but, of course, the securities which PeterCarey has sold are lost forever. There's the cab, Hopkins, and you canremove your man. If you want me for the trial, my address and that ofWatson will be somewhere in Norway -I'll send particulars later."