Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Valley of Fear PART 1 THE TRAGEDY OF BIRLSTONE Chapter 1 THE WARNING

"I AM inclined to think- -" said I."I should do so," Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but I'lladmit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. "Really, Holmes,"said I severely, "you are a little trying at times."He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give anyimmediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with hisuntasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which hehad just drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held itup to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the flap."It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully. "I can hardly doubt thatit is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only twice before. The Greeke with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then itmust be something of the very first importance."He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexationdisappeared in the interest which the words awakened."Who then is Porlock?" I asked."Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; butbehind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he franklyinformed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to tracehim among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important,not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture toyourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion-anythingthat is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: not onlyformidable, Watson, but sinister-in the highest degree sinister. That iswhere he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak ofProfessor Moriarty?""The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as- -""My blushes, Watson!" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice."I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public.""A touch! A distinct touch!" cried Holmes. "You are developing acertain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I mustlearn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are utteringlibel in the eyes of the law-and there lie the glory and the wonder of it!The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made ormarred the destiny of nations -that's the man! But so [770] aloof is hefrom general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in hismanagement and self-effacement, that for those very words that you haveuttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pensionas a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author ofThe Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book which ascends to such rarefiedheights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in thescientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor-such would be your respectiveroles! That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men, our daywill surely come.""May I be there to see!" I exclaimed devoutly. "But you were speakingof this man Porlock.""Ah, yes-the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little wayfrom its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link-betweenourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able totest it.""But no chain is stronger than its weakest link.""Exactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock.Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged bythe judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him bydevious methods, he has once or twice given me advance informationwhich has been of value-that highest value which anticipates andprevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we had thecipher, we should find that this communication is of the nature that Iindicate."Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and,leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran asfollows:534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171"What do you make of it, Holmes?""It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information.""But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?""In this instance, none at all.""Why do you say 'in this instance'?""Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I dothe apocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices amuse theintelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly areference to the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which pageand which book I am powerless.""But why 'Douglas' and 'Birlstone'?""Clearly because those are words which were not contained in the pagein question.""Then why has he not indicated the book?""Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning whichis the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from inclosingcipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry, you areundone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it.Our second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does notbring us either a further letter of explanation, or, as is more probable, thevery volume to which these figures refer."Holmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by theappearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we wereexpecting. [771] "The same writing," remarked Holmes, as he opened theenvelope, "and actually signed," he added in an exultant voice as heunfolded the epistle. "Come, we are getting on, Watson." His browclouded, however, as he glanced over the contents."Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all ourexpectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to noharm."DEAR MR. HOLMES [he says]:"I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous-hesuspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quiteunexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with theintention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to coverit up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I readsuspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which cannow be of no use to you."FRED PORLOCK."Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his fingers,and frowning, as he stared into the fire."After all," he said at last, "there may be nothing in it. It may be onlyhis guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have readthe accusation in the other's eyes.""The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty.""No less! When any of that party talk about 'He' you know whom theymean. There is one predominant 'He' for all of them.""But what can he do?""Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the first brainsof Europe up against you, and all the powers of darkness at his back, thereare infinite possibilities. Anyhow, Friend Porlock is evidently scared outof his senses-kindly compare the writing in the note to that upon itsenvelope; which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. Theone is clear and firm. The other hardly legible.""Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?""Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case,and possibly bring trouble on him.""No doubt," said I. "Of course." I had picked up the original ciphermessage and was bending my brows over it. "It's pretty maddening tothink that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and that itis beyond human power to penetrate it."Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit theunsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations. "Iwonder!" said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Perhaps thereare points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect. Let usconsider the problem in the light of pure reason. This man's reference isto a book. That is our point of departure.""A somewhat vague one." "Let us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it,it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to thisbook?""None.""Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher messagebegins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a workinghypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. Soour book has already become a large book, which is surely somethinggained. What other indications have we as [772] to the nature of this largebook? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?""Chapter the second, no doubt.""Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if thepage be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one musthave been really intolerable.""Column!" I cried."Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is notcolumn, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin tovisualize a large book, printed in double columns, which are each of aconsiderable length, since one of the words is numbered in the documentas the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of whatreason can supply?""I fear that we have.""Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dearWatson -yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been an unusual one,he would have sent it to me. Instead of that, he had intended, before hisplans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so in hisnote. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he thought Iwould have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it-and he imaginedthat I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book.""What you say certainly sounds plausible.""So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed indouble columns and in common use.""The Bible!" I cried triumphantly."Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough!Even if I accepted the compliment for myself, I could hardly name anyvolume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriarty'sassociates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that hecould hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination.This is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that hispage 534 will exactly agree with my page 534.""But very few books would correspond with that.""Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down tostandardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess.""Bradshaw!""There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervousand terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself tothe sending of general messages. We will eliminate Bradshaw. Thedictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What then is left?" "An almanac!""Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touchedthe spot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of Whitaker's Almanac.It is in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in doublecolumn. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if Iremember right, quite garrulous towards the end." He picked the volumefrom his desk. "Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of printdealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. Jot downthe words, Watson! Number thirteen is 'Mahratta.' Not, I fear, a veryauspicious beginning. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is'Government'; which at least makes sense, though somewhat irrelevant toourselves and Professor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What does theMahratta government [773] do? Alas! the next word is 'pig's-bristles.' Weare undone, my good Watson! It is finished!"He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrowsbespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy,staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden exclamationfrom Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with asecond yellow-covered volume in his hand."We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!" he cried. "Weare before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh ofJanuary, we have very properly laid in the new almanac. It is more thanlikely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he wouldhave told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us seewhat page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is 'There,' which is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is'is'-'There is'"-Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and histhin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words-"'danger.' Ha!Ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. 'There isdanger-may-come-very-soon-one.' Then we have the name'Douglas'-'rich-country-now-at-Birlstone-House-Birlstone-confidence-is-pressing.'There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If thegreen-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billyround for it."I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as hedeciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee."What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" said I."On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well," said Holmes."When you search a single column for words with which to express yourmeaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You arebound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent. Thepurport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one Douglas,whoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He issure-'confidence' was as near as he could get to 'confident'-that it ispressing. There is our result-and a very workmanlike little bit of analysisit was!"Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, evenas he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which heaspired. He was still chuckling over his success when Billy swung openthe door and Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ushered into theroom.Those were the early days at the end of the '80's, when AlecMacDonald was far from having attained the national fame which he hasnow achieved. He was a young but trusted member of the detective force,who had distinguished himself in several cases which had been intrustedto him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of exceptional physicalstrength, while his great cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no lessclearly of the keen intelligence which twinkled out from behind his bushyeyebrows. He was a silent, precise man with a dour nature and a hardAberdonian accent.Twice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain success,his own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the problem. For thisreason the affection and respect of the Scotchman for his amateurcolleague were profound, and he showed them by the frankness withwhich he consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Mediocrity knows nothinghigher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonaldhad talent enough for his profession to enable him to perceive [774] thatthere was no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who alreadystood alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes wasnot prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big Scotchman, andsmiled at the sight of him."You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with yourworm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot." "If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth, I'mthinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a knowing grin."Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, Iwon't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for theearly hours of a case are the precious ones, as no man knows better thanyour own self. But-but- -"The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look ofabsolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the sheet uponwhich I had scrawled the enigmatic message."Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man,it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you getthose names?""It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. Butwhy-what's amiss with the names?"The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment."Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House washorribly murdered last night!"