Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes THE THREE GARRIDEBS

IT MAY have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost oneman his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man thepenalties of the law. Yet there was certainly an element of comedy. Well,you shall judge for yourselves.I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month thatHolmes refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some daybe described. I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my position ofpartner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to avoid anyindiscretion. I repeat, however, that this enables me to fix the date, whichwas the latter end of June, 1902, shortly after the conclusion of the SouthAfrican War. Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit fromtime to time, but he emerged that morning with a long foolscap documentin his hand and a twinkle of amusement in his austere gray eyes."There is a chance for you to make some money, friend Watson," saidhe. "Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?"I admitted that I had not."Well, if you can lay your hand upon a Garrideb, there's money in it.""Why?""Ah, that's a long story-rather a whimsical one, too. I don't think in allour explorations of human complexities we have ever come uponanything more [1045] singular. The fellow will be here presently for crossexamination, so I won't open the matter up till he comes. But, meanwhile,that's the name we want."The telephone directory lay on the table beside me, and I turned overthe pages in a rather hopeless quest. But to my amazement there was thisstrange name in its due place. I gave a cry of triumph."Here you are, Holmes! Here it is!"Holmes took the book from my hand." 'Garrideb, N.,' " he read, " '136 Little Ryder Street, W.' Sorry todisappoint you, my dear Watson, but this is the man himself. That is theaddress upon his letter. We want another to match him."Mrs. Hudson had come in with a card upon a tray. I took it up andglanced at it."Why, here it is!" I cried in amazement. "This is a different initial. JohnGarrideb, Counsellor at Law, Moorville, Kansas, U. S. A."Holmes smiled as he looked at the card. "I am afraid you must makeyet another effort, Watson," said he. "This gentleman is also in the plotalready, though I certainly did not expect to see him this morning.However, he is in a position to tell us a good deal which I want to know."A moment later he was in the room. Mr. John Garrideb, Counsellor atLaw, was a short, powerful man with the round, fresh, clean-shaven face characteristic of so many American men of affairs. The general effect waschubby and rather childlike, so that one received the impression of quite ayoung man with a broad set smile upon his face. His eyes, however, werearresting. Seldom in any human head have I seen a pair which bespoke amore intense inward life, so bright were they, so alert, so responsive toevery change of thought. His accent was American, but was notaccompanied by any eccentricity of speech."Mr. Holmes?" he asked, glancing from one to the other. "Ah, yes!Your pictures are not unlike you, sir, if I may say so. I believe you havehad a letter from my namesake, Mr. Nathan Garrideb, have you not?""Pray sit down," said Sherlock Holmes. "We shall, I fancy, have a gooddeal to discuss." He took up his sheets of foolscap. "You are, of course,the Mr. John Garrideb mentioned in this document. But surely you havebeen in England some time?""Why do you say that, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to read suddensuspicion in those expressive eyes."Your whole outfit is English."Mr. Garrideb forced a laugh. "I've read of your tricks, Mr. Holmes, butI never thought I would be the subject of them. Where do you read that?""The shoulder cut of your coat, the toes of your boots-could anyonedoubt it?""Well, well, I had no idea I was so obvious a Britisher. But businessbrought me over here some time ago, and so, as you say, my outfit isnearly all London. However, I guess your time is of value, and we did notmeet to talk about the cut of my socks. What about getting down to thatpaper you hold in your hand?"Holmes had in some way ruffled our visitor, whose chubby face hadassumed a far less amiable expression."Patience! Patience, Mr. Garrideb!" said my friend in a soothing voice."Dr. Watson would tell you that these little digressions of minesometimes prove in the end to have some bearing on the matter. But whydid Mr. Nathan Garrideb not come with you?""Why did he ever drag you into it at all?" asked our visitor with asudden [1046] outflame of anger. "What in thunder had you to do with it?Here was a bit of professional business between two gentlemen, and oneof them must needs call in a detective! I saw him this morning, and hetold me this fool-trick he had played me, and that's why I am here. But Ifeel bad about it, all the same.""There was no reflection upon you, Mr. Garrideb. It was simply zealupon his part to gain your end-an end which is, I understand, equally vitalfor both of you. He knew that I had means of getting information, and,therefore, it was very natural that he should apply to me."Our visitor's angry face gradually cleared."Well, that puts it different," said he. "When I went to see him thismorning and he told me he had sent to a detective, I just asked for youraddress and came right away. I don't want police butting into a privatematter. But if you are content just to help us find the man, there can be noharm in that.""Well, that is just how it stands," said Holmes. "And now, sir, sinceyou are here, we had best have a clear account from your own lips. Myfriend here knows nothing of the details."Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze."Need he know?" he asked."We usually work together.""Well, there's no reason it should be kept a secret. I'll give you thefacts as short as I can make them. If you came from Kansas I would notneed to explain to you who Alexander Hamilton Garrideb was. He madehis money in real estate, and afterwards in the wheat pit at Chicago, but he spent it in buying up as much land as would make one of yourcounties, lying along the Arkansas River, west of Fort Dodge. It's grazingland and lumber-land and arable-land and mineralized-land, and justevery sort of land that brings dollars to the man that owns it."He had no kith nor kin-or, if he had, I never heard of it. But he took akind of pride in the queerness of his name. That was what brought ustogether. I was in the law at Topeka, and one day I had a visit from theold man, and he was tickled to death to meet another man with his ownname. It was his pet fad, and he was dead set to find out if there were anymore Garridebs in the world. 'Find me another!' said he. I told him I wasa busy man and could not spend my life hiking round the world in searchof Garridebs. 'None the less,' said he, 'that is just what you will do ifthings pan out as I planned them.' I thought he was joking, but there wasa powerful lot of meaning in the words, as I was soon to discover."For he died within a year of saying them, and he left a will behindhim. It was the queerest will that has ever been filed in the State ofKansas. His property was divided into three parts, and I was to have oneon condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the remainder.It's five million dollars for each if it is a cent, but we can't lay a finger onit until we all three stand in a row."It was so big a chance that I just let my legal practice slide and I setforth looking for Garridebs. There is not one in the United States. I wentthrough it, sir, with a fine-toothed comb and never a Garrideb could Icatch. Then I tried the old country. Sure enough there was the name in theLondon telephone directory. I went after him two days ago and explainedthe whole matter to him. But he is a lone man, like myself, with somewomen relations, but no men. It says three adult men in the will. So yousee we still have a vacancy, and if you can help to fill it we will be veryready to pay your charges."[1047] "Well, Watson," said Holmes with a smile, "I said it was ratherwhimsical, did I not? I should have thought, sir, that your obvious waywas to advertise in the agony columns of the papers.""I have done that, Mr. Holmes. No replies.""Dear me! Well, it is certainly a most curious little problem. I may takea glance at it in my leisure. By the way, it is curious that you should havecome from Topeka. I used to have a correspondent-he is dead now-oldDr. Lysander Starr, who was mayor in 1890.""Good old Dr. Starr!" said our visitor. "His name is still honoured.Well, Mr. Holmes, I suppose all we can do is to report to you and let youknow how we progress. I reckon you will hear within a day or two." Withthis assurance our American bowed and departed.Holmes had lit his pipe, and he sat for some time with a curious smileupon his face."Well?" I asked at last."I am wondering, Watson-just wondering!""At what?"Holmes took his pipe from his lips."I was wondering, Watson, what on earth could be the object of thisman in telling us such a rigmarole of lies. I nearly asked him so-for there are times when a brutal frontal attack is the best policy-but I judged itbetter to let him think he had fooled us. Here is a man with an Englishcoat frayed at the elbow and trousers bagged at the knee with a year'swear, and yet by this document and by his own account he is a provincialAmerican lately landed in London. There have been no advertisements inthe agony columns. You know that I miss nothing there. They are myfavourite covert for putting up a bird, and I would never have overlookedsuch a cock pheasant as that. I never knew a Dr. Lysander Starr, ofTopeka. Touch him where you would he was false. I think the fellow isreally an American, but he has worn his accent smooth with years ofLondon. What is his game, then, and what motive lies behind thispreposterous search for Garridebs? It's worth our attention, for, grantingthat the man is a rascal, he is certainly a complex and ingenious one. Wemust now find out if our other correspondent is a fraud also. Just ring himup, Watson."I did so, and heard a thin, quavering voice at the other end of the line."Yes, yes, I am Mr. Nathan Garrideb. Is Mr. Holmes there? I shouldvery much like to have a word with Mr. Holmes."My friend took the instrument and I heard the usual syncopateddialogue."Yes, he has been here. I understand that you don't know him. ... Howlong? ... Only two days! ... Yes, yes, of course, it is a most captivatingprospect. Will you be at home this evening? I suppose your namesake willnot be there? ... Very good, we will come then, for I would rather have achat without him. ... Dr. Watson will come with me. ... I understand fromyour note that you did not go out often. ... Well, we shall be round about six. You need not mention it to the American lawyer. ... Very good. Goodbye!"It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder Street,one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a stone-castof old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and wonderful in theslanting rays of the setting sun. The particular house to which we weredirected was a large, [1048] old-fashioned, Early Georgian edifice, with aflat brick face broken only by two deep bay windows on the ground floor.It was on this ground floor that our client lived, and, indeed, the lowwindows proved to be the front of the huge room in which he spent hiswaking hours. Holmes pointed as we passed to the small brass platewhich bore the curious name."Up some years, Watson," he remarked, indicating its discolouredsurface. "It's his real name, anyhow, and that is something to note."The house had a common stair, and there were a number of namespainted in the hall, some indicating offices and some private chambers. Itwas not a collection of residential flats, but rather the abode of Bohemianbachelors. Our client opened the door for us himself and apologized bysaying that the woman in charge left at four o'clock. Mr. Nathan Garridebproved to be a very tall, loose-jointed, round-backed person, gaunt andbald, some sixty-odd years of age. He had a cadaverous face, with the dulldead skin of a man to whom exercise was unknown. Large roundspectacles and a small projecting goat's beard combined with his stoopingattitude to give him an expression of peering curiosity. The general effect,however, was amiable, though eccentric.The room was as curious as its occupant. It looked like a smallmuseum. It was both broad and deep, with cupboards and cabinets allround, crowded with specimens, geological and anatomical. Cases ofbutterflies and moths flanked each side of the entrance. A large table inthe centre was littered with all sorts of debris, while the tall brass tube ofa powerful microscope bristled up among them. As I glanced round I wassurprised at the universality of the man's interests. Here was a case ofancient coins. There was a cabinet of flint instruments. Behind his centraltable was a large cupboard of fossil bones. Above was a line of plasterskulls with such names as "Neanderthal," "Heidelberg," "Cro-Magnon"printed beneath them. It was clear that he was a student of many subjects.As he stood in front of us now, he held a piece of chamois leather in hisright hand with which he was polishing a coin."Syracusan-of the best period," he explained, holding it up. "Theydegenerated greatly towards the end. At their best I hold them supreme,though some prefer the Alexandrian school. You will find a chair here,Mr. Holmes. Pray allow me to clear these bones. And you, sir-ah, yes,Dr. Watson-if you would have the goodness to put the Japanese vase toone side. You see round me my little interests in life. My doctor lecturesme about never going out, but why should I go out when I have so muchto hold me here? I can assure you that the adequate cataloguing of one ofthose cabinets would take me three good months."Holmes looked round him with curiosity."But do you tell me that you never go out?" he said. "Now and again I drive down to Sotheby's or Christie's. Otherwise Ivery seldom leave my room. I am not too strong, and my researches arevery absorbing. But you can imagine, Mr. Holmes, what a terrificshock-pleasant but terrific-it was for me when I heard of thisunparalleled good fortune. It only needs one more Garrideb to completethe matter, and surely we can find one. I had a brother, but he is dead, andfemale relatives are disqualified. But there must surely be others in theworld. I had heard that you handled strange cases, and that was why I sentto you. Of course, this American gentleman is quite right, and I shouldhave taken his advice first, but I acted for the best."[1049] "I think you acted very wisely indeed," said Holmes. "But areyou really anxious to acquire an estate in America?""Certainly not, sir. Nothing would induce me to leave my collection.But this gentleman has assured me that he will buy me out as soon as wehave established our claim. Five million dollars was the sum named.There are a dozen specimens in the market at the present moment whichfill gaps in my collection, and which I am unable to purchase for want ofa few hundred pounds. Just think what I could do with five milliondollars. Why, I have the nucleus of a national collection. I shall be theHans Sloane of my age."His eyes gleamed behind his great spectacles. It was very clear that nopains would be spared by Mr. Nathan Garrideb in finding a namesake."I merely called to make your acquaintance, and there is no reason whyI should interrupt your studies," said Holmes. "I prefer to establishpersonal touch with those with whom I do business. There are fewquestions I need ask, for I have your very clear narrative in my pocket,and I filled up the blanks when this American gentleman called. Iunderstand that up to this week you were unaware of his existence.""That is so. He called last Tuesday.""Did he tell you of our interview to-day?""Yes, he came straight back to me. He had been very angry.""Why should he be angry?""He seemed to think it was some reflection on his honour. But he wasquite cheerful again when he returned.""Did he suggest any course of action?""No, sir, he did not.""Has he had, or asked for, any money from you?""No, sir, never!""You see no possible object he has in view?""None, except what he states.""Did you tell him of our telephone appointment?""Yes, sir, I did."Holmes was lost in thought. I could see that he was puzzled."Have you any articles of great value in your collection?""No, sir. I am not a rich man. It is a good collection, but not a veryvaluable one.""You have no fear of burglars?""Not the least.""How long have you been in these rooms?" "Nearly five years."Holmes's cross-examination was interrupted by an imperative knockingat the door. No sooner had our client unlatched it than the Americanlawyer burst excitedly into the room."Here you are!" he cried, waving a paper over his head. "I thought Ishould be in time to get you. Mr. Nathan Garrideb, my congratulations!You are a rich man, sir. Our business is happily finished and all is well.As to you, Mr. Holmes, we can only say we are sorry if we have givenyou any useless trouble."He handed over the paper to our client, who stood staring at a markedadvertisement. Holmes and I leaned forward and read it over his shoulder.This is how it ran:[1050] HOWARD GARRIDEBCONSTRUCTOR OF AGRICULTURAL MACHINERYBinders, reapers, steam and hand plows, drills, harrows, farmers'carts, buckboards, and all other appliances.Estimates for Artesian WellsApply Grosvenor Buildings, Aston"Glorious!" gasped our host. "That makes our third man.""I had opened up inquiries in Birmingham," said the American, "andmy agent there has sent me this advertisement from a local paper. Wemust hustle and put the thing through. I have written to this man and toldhim that you will see him in his office to-morrow afternoon at fouro'clock.""You want me to see him?""What do you say, Mr. Holmes? Don't you think it would be wiser?Here am I, a wandering American with a wonderful tale. Why should hebelieve what I tell him? But you are a Britisher with solid references, andhe is bound to take notice of what you say. I would go with you if youwished, but I have a very busy day to-morrow, and I could always followyou if you are in any trouble.""Well, I have not made such a journey for years.""It is nothing, Mr. Garrideb. I have figured out our connections. Youleave at twelve and should be there soon after two. Then you can be backthe same night. All you have to do is to see this man, explain the matter,and get an affidavit of his existence. By the Lord!" he added hotly,"considering I've come all the way from the centre of America, it issurely little enough if you go a hundred miles in order to put this matterthrough.""Quite so," said Holmes. "I think what this gentleman says is very true."Mr. Nathan Garrideb shrugged his shoulders with a disconsolate air."Well, if you insist I shall go," said he. "It is certainly hard for me torefuse you anything, considering the glory of hope that you have broughtinto my life.""Then that is agreed," said Holmes, "and no doubt you will let me havea report as soon as you can.""I'll see to that," said the American. "Well," he added, looking at his watch, "I'll have to get on. I'll call to-morrow, Mr. Nathan, and see youoff to Birmingham. Coming my way, Mr. Holmes? Well, then, good-bye,and we may have good news for you to-morrow night."I noticed that my friend's face cleared when the American left theroom, and the look of thoughtful perplexity had vanished."I wish I could look over your collection, Mr. Garrideb," said he. "Inmy profession all sorts of odd knowledge comes useful, and this room ofyours is a storehouse of it."Our client shone with pleasure and his eyes gleamed from behind hisbig glasses."I had always heard, sir, that you were a very intelligent man," said he."I could take you round now if you have the time.""Unfortunately, I have not. But these specimens are so well labelledand classified that they hardly need your personal explanation. If I shouldbe able to look in to-morrow, I presume that there would be no objectionto my glancing over them?""None at all. You are most welcome. The place will, of course, be shutup, but Mrs. Saunders is in the basement up to four o'clock and would letyou in with her key."[1051] "Well, I happen to be clear to-morrow afternoon. If you wouldsay a word to Mrs. Saunders it would be quite in order. By the way, whois your house-agent?"Our client was amazed at the sudden question."Holloway and Steele, in the Edgware Road. But why?""I am a bit of an archaeologist myself when it comes to houses," saidHolmes, laughing. "I was wondering if this was Queen Anne orGeorgian.""Georgian, beyond doubt.""Really. I should have thought a little earlier. However, it is easilyascertained. Well, good-bye, Mr. Garrideb, and may you have everysuccess in your Birmingham journey."The house-agent's was close by, but we found that it was closed for theday, so we made our way back to Baker Street. It was not till after dinnerthat Holmes reverted to the subject."Our little problem draws to a close," said he. "No doubt you haveoutlined the solution in your own mind.""I can make neither head nor tail of it.""The head is surely clear enough and the tail we should see to-morrow.Did you notice nothing curious about that advertisement?""I saw that the word 'plough' was misspelt.""Oh, you did notice that, did you? Come, Watson, you improve all thetime. Yes, it was bad English but good American. The printer had set it upas received. Then the buckboards. That is American also. And artesianwells are commoner with them than with us. It was a typical Americanadvertisement, but purporting to be from an English firm. What do youmake of that?""I can only suppose that this American lawyer put it in himself. Whathis object was I fail to understand.""Well, there are alternative explanations. Anyhow, he wanted to get this good old fossil up to Birmingham. That is very clear. I might havetold him that he was clearly going on a wild-goose chase, but, on secondthoughts, it seemed better to clear the stage by letting him go. To-morrow,Watson-well, to-morrow will speak for itself."Holmes was up and out early. When he returned at lunchtime I noticedthat his face was very grave."This is a more serious matter than I had expected, Watson," said he."It is fair to tell you so, though I know it will only be an additional reasonto you for running your head into danger. I should know my Watson bynow. But there is danger, and you should know it.""Well, it is not the first we have shared, Holmes. I hope it may not bethe last. What is the particular danger this time?""We are up against a very hard case. I have identified Mr. JohnGarrideb, Counsellor at Law. He is none other than 'Killer' Evans, ofsinister and murderous reputation.""I fear I am none the wiser.""Ah, it is not part of your profession to carry about a portable NewgateCalendar in your memory. I have been down to see friend Lestrade at theYard. There may be an occasional want of imaginative intuition downthere, but they lead the world for thoroughness and method. I had an ideathat we might get on the track of our American friend in their records.Sure enough, I found his chubby face smiling up at me from the rogues'portrait gallery. 'James Winter, alias Morecroft, [1052] alias Killer Evans,'was the inscription below." Holmes drew an envelope from his pocket. "Iscribbled down a few points from his dossier: Aged forty-four. Native ofChicago. Known to have shot three men in the States. Escaped frompenitentiary through political influence. Came to London in 1893. Shot aman over cards in a night-club in the Waterloo Road in January, 1895.Man died, but he was shown to have been the aggressor in the row. Deadman was identified as Rodger Prescott, famous as forger and coiner inChicago. Killer Evans released in 1901. Has been under policesupervision since, but so far as known has led an honest life. Verydangerous man, usually carries arms and is prepared to use them. That isour bird, Watson-a sporting bird, as you must admit.""But what is his game?""Well, it begins to define itself. I have been to the house-agent's. Ourclient, as he told us, has been there five years. It was unlet for a yearbefore then. The previous tenant was a gentleman at large namedWaldron. Waldron's appearance was well remembered at the office. Hehad suddenly vanished and nothing more been heard of him. He was atall, bearded man with very dark features. Now, Prescott, the man whomKiller Evans had shot, was, according to Scotland Yard, a tall, dark manwith a beard. As a working hypothesis, I think we may take it thatPrescott, the American criminal, used to live in the very room which ourinnocent friend now devotes to his museum. So at last we get a link, yousee.""And the next link?""Well, we must go now and look for that."He took a revolver from the drawer and handed it to me. "I have my old favourite with me. If our Wild West friend tries to liveup to his nickname, we must be ready for him. I'll give you an hour for asiesta, Watson, and then I think it will be time for our Ryder Streetadventure."It was just four o'clock when we reached the curious apartment ofNathan Garrideb. Mrs. Saunders, the caretaker, was about to leave, butshe had no hesitation in admitting us, for the door shut with a spring lock,and Holmes promised to see that all was safe before we left. Shortlyafterwards the outer door closed, her bonnet passed the bow window, andwe knew that we were alone in the lower floor of the house. Holmes madea rapid examination of the premises. There was one cupboard in a darkcorner which stood out a little from the wall. It was behind this that weeventually crouched while Holmes in a whisper outlined his intentions."He wanted to get our amiable friend out of his room-that is very clear,and, as the collector never went out, it took some planning to do it. Thewhole of this Garrideb invention was apparently for no other end. I mustsay, Watson, that there is a certain devilish ingenuity about it, even if thequeer name of the tenant did give him an opening which he could hardlyhave expected. He wove his plot with remarkable cunning.""But what did he want?""Well, that is what we are here to find out. It has nothing whatever todo with our client, so far as I can read the situation. It is somethingconnected with the man he murdered-the man who may have been hisconfederate in crime. There is some guilty secret in the room. That is howI read it. At first I thought our friend might have something in hiscollection more valuable than he knew-something worth the attention of abig criminal. But the fact that Rodger Prescott of evil memory [1053]inhabited these rooms points to some deeper reason. Well, Watson, wecan but possess our souls in patience and see what the hour may bring."That hour was not long in striking. We crouched closer in the shadowas we heard the outer door open and shut. Then came the sharp, metallicsnap of a key, and the American was in the room. He closed the doorsoftly behind him, took a sharp glance around him to see that all was safe,threw off his overcoat, and walked up to the central table with the briskmanner of one who knows exactly what he has to do and how to do it. Hepushed the table to one side, tore up the square of carpet on which itrested, rolled it completely back, and then, drawing a jemmy from hisinside pocket, he knelt down and worked vigorously upon the floor.Presently we heard the sound of sliding boards, and an instant later asquare had opened in the planks. Killer Evans struck a match, lit a stumpof candle, and vanished from our view.Clearly our moment had come. Holmes touched my wrist as a signal,and together we stole across to the open trap-door. Gently as we moved,however, the old floor must have creaked under our feet, for the head ofour American, peering anxiously round, emerged suddenly from the openspace. His face turned upon us with a glare of baffled rage, whichgradually softened into a rather shamefaced grin as he realized that twopistols were pointed at his head."Well, well!" said he coolly as he scrambled to the surface. "I guessyou have been one too many for me, Mr. Holmes. Saw through my game,I suppose, and played me for a sucker from the first. Well, sir, I hand it toyou; you have me beat and- -"In an instant he had whisked out a revolver from his breast and hadfired two shots. I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had beenpressed to my thigh. There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down onthe man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with bloodrunning down his face while Holmes rummaged him for weapons. Thenmy friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair."You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!"It was worth a wound-it was worth many wounds-to know the depth ofloyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyeswere dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the oneand only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a greatbrain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated inthat moment of revelation."It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch."He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife."You are right," he cried with an immense sigh of relief. "It is quitesuperficial." His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who wassitting up with a dazed face. "By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you hadkilled Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir,what have you to say for yourself?"He had nothing to say for himself. He only sat and scowled. I leaned onHolmes's arm, and together we looked down into the small cellar whichhad been disclosed by the secret flap. It was still illuminated by the candlewhich Evans had taken down with him. Our eyes fell upon a mass ofrusted machinery, great rolls of paper, a litter of bottles, and, neatlyarranged upon a small table, a number of neat little bundles."A printing press-a counterfeiter's outfit," said Holmes."Yes, sir," said our prisoner, staggering slowly to his feet and thensinking into [1054] the chair. "The greatest counterfeiter London ever saw.That's Prescott's machine, and those bundles on the table are twothousand of Prescott's notes worth a hundred each and fit to passanywhere. Help yourselves, gentlemen. Call it a deal and let me beat it."Holmes laughed."We don't do things like that, Mr. Evans. There is no bolt-hole for youin this country. You shot this man Prescott, did you not?""Yes, sir, and got five years for it, though it was he who pulled on me.Five years-when I should have had a medal the size of a soup plate. Noliving man could tell a Prescott from a Bank of England, and if I hadn'tput him out he would have flooded London with them. I was the only onein the world who knew where he made them. Can you wonder that Iwanted to get to the place? And can you wonder that when I found thiscrazy boob of a bug-hunter with the queer name squatting right on the topof it, and never quitting his room, I had to do the best I could to shift him?Maybe I would have been wiser if I had put him away. It would havebeen easy enough, but I'm a soft-hearted guy that can't begin shootingunless the other man has a gun also. But say, Mr. Holmes, what have Idone wrong, anyhow? I've not used this plant. I've not hurt this old stiff.Where do you get me?""Only attempted murder, so far as I can see," said Holmes. "But that'snot our job. They take that at the next stage. What we wanted at presentwas just your sweet self. Please give the Yard a call, Watson. It won't beentirely unexpected."So those were the facts about Killer Evans and his remarkableinvention of the three Garridebs. We heard later that our poor old friendnever got over the shock of his dissipated dreams. When his castle in the air fell down, it buried him beneath the ruins. He was last heard of at anursing-home in Brixton. It was a glad day at the Yard when the Prescottoutfit was discovered, for, though they knew that it existed, they hadnever been able, after the death of the man, to find out where it was.Evans had indeed done great service and caused several worthy C. I. D.men to sleep the sounder, for the counterfeiter stands in a class by himselfas a public danger. They would willingly have subscribed to that soupplate medal of which the criminal had spoken, but an unappreciativebench took a less favourable view, and the Killer returned to those shadesfrom which he had just emerged.