The return of Sherlock Holmes (completed)

The Return Of Sherlock Holmes (part 7 and full book completion)

(The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle)

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. The Randall gang were arrested in New York
this morning."

"Dear me, Hopkins! That is certainly rather against your theory
that they committed a murder in Kent last night."

"It is fatal, Mr. Holmes--absolutely fatal. Still, there are
other gangs of three besides the Randalls, or it may be some new
gang of which the police have never heard."

"Quite so, it is perfectly possible. What, are you off?"

Yes, Mr. Holmes, there is no rest for me until I have got to the
bottom of the business. I suppose you have no hint to give me?"

"I have given you one."

"Which?"

"Well, I suggested a blind."

"But why, Mr. Holmes, why?"

"Ah, that's the question, of course. But I commend the idea to
your mind. You might possibly find that there was something in
it. You won't stop for dinner? Well, good-bye, and let us know
how you get on."

Dinner was over, and the table cleared before Holmes alluded to
the matter again. He had lit his pipe and held his slippered
feet to the cheerful blaze of the fire. Suddenly he looked at
his watch.

"I expect developments, Watson."

"When?"

"Now--within a few minutes. I dare say you thought I acted
rather badly to Stanley Hopkins just now?"

"I trust your judgment."

"A very sensible reply, Watson. You must look at it this way:
what I know is unofficial, what he knows is official. I have the
right to private judgment, but he has none. He must disclose
all, or he is a traitor to his service. In a doubtful case I
would not put him in so painful a position, and so I reserve my
information until my own mind is clear upon the matter."

"But when will that be?"

"The time has come. You will now be present at the last scene of
a remarkable little drama."

There was a sound upon the stairs, and our door was opened to
admit as fine a specimen of manhood as ever passed through it.
He was a very tall young man, golden-moustached, blue-eyed, with
a skin which had been burned by tropical suns, and a springy
step, which showed that the huge frame was as active as it was
strong. He closed the door behind him, and then he stood with
clenched hands and heaving breast, choking down some
overmastering emotion.

"Sit down, Captain Crocker. You got my telegram?"

Our visitor sank into an armchair and looked from one to the
other of us with questioning eyes.

"I got your telegram, and I came at the hour you said. I heard
that you had been down to the office. There was no getting away
from you. Let's hear the worst. What are you going to do with
me? Arrest me? Speak out, man! You can't sit there and play with
me like a cat with a mouse."

"Give him a cigar," said Holmes. "Bite on that, Captain Crocker,
and don't let your nerves run away with you. I should not sit
here smoking with you if I thought that you were a common
criminal, you may be sure of that. Be frank with me and we may
do some good. Play tricks with me, and I'll crush you."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"To give me a true account of all that happened at the Abbey
Grange last night--a TRUE account, mind you, with nothing added
and nothing taken off. I know so much already that if you go one
inch off the straight, I'll blow this police whistle from my
window and the affair goes out of my hands forever."