The Man with the Twisted Lip - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

<v Speaker 1>The man with the twisted lip. Isa Whitney, brother of
<v Speaker 1>the late Elias Whitney, d d. Principle of the Theological
<v Speaker 1>College of Saint George's, was much addicted to opium. The
<v Speaker 1>habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish
<v Speaker 1>freak when he was at college, for having read de
<v Speaker 1>Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations, he had drenched
<v Speaker 1>his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the
<v Speaker 1>same effects. He found, as so many more have done,
<v Speaker 1>that the practice is easier to attain than to get
<v Speaker 1>rid of, And for many years he continued to be
<v Speaker 1>a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror
<v Speaker 1>and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see
<v Speaker 1>him now, with yellow pasty face, drooping lids, and pin
<v Speaker 1>point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and
<v Speaker 1>ruin of a noble man. One night, it was in
<v Speaker 1>June eighty nine, there came a ring to my bell,
<v Speaker 1>about the hour when a man gives his first yawn
<v Speaker 1>and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair,
<v Speaker 1>and my wife laid her needlework down in her lap,
<v Speaker 1>and made a little face of disappointment. A patient said
<v Speaker 1>she you'll have to go out. I groaned, for I
<v Speaker 1>was newly come back from a weary day. We heard
<v Speaker 1>the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick
<v Speaker 1>steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and
<v Speaker 1>a lady clad in some dark colored stuff with a
<v Speaker 1>black veil, entered the room. You will excuse me calling
<v Speaker 1>so late, she began, and then, suddenly losing her self control,
<v Speaker 1>she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife's neck,
<v Speaker 1>and sobbed upon her shoulder. Oh I am in such trouble,
<v Speaker 1>she cried. I do so want a little help. Why,
<v Speaker 1>said my wife, pulling up her veil. It is Kate Whitney.
<v Speaker 1>How you startled me? Kate, I had not an idea
<v Speaker 1>who you were when you came in. I didn't know
<v Speaker 1>what to do, so I came straight to you. That
<v Speaker 1>was always the way folk who were in grief came
<v Speaker 1>to my wife like birds to a lighthouse. It was
<v Speaker 1>very sweet of you to come. Now. You must have
<v Speaker 1>some wine and water and sit here comfortably and tell
<v Speaker 1>us all about it. Or should you rather that? I
<v Speaker 1>sent James off to bed. Oh no, no, I want
<v Speaker 1>the doctor's advice. And help too. It's about Isa. He
<v Speaker 1>has not been home for two days. I'm so frightened
<v Speaker 1>about him. It was not the first time that she
<v Speaker 1>had spoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me
<v Speaker 1>as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend
<v Speaker 1>and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such
<v Speaker 1>words as we could find. Did she know where her
<v Speaker 1>husband was? Was it possible that we could bring him
<v Speaker 1>back to her? It seems that it was. She had
<v Speaker 1>the surest information that of late he had when the
<v Speaker 1>fit was on him, made use of an opium den
<v Speaker 1>in the farthest east of the city. Hitherto his orgies
<v Speaker 1>had always been confined to one day, and he'd come
<v Speaker 1>back twitching and shattered in the evening. But now the
<v Speaker 1>spell had been upon him eight and forty hours, and
<v Speaker 1>he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks,
<v Speaker 1>breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects. There
<v Speaker 1>he was to be found, she was sure of it,
<v Speaker 1>at the bar of Gold in Upper Swandham Lane. But
<v Speaker 1>what was she to do? How could she, a young
<v Speaker 1>and timid woman, make her way into such a place
<v Speaker 1>and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who
<v Speaker 1>surrounded him. There was the case, and of course there
<v Speaker 1>was but one way out of it. Might I not
<v Speaker 1>escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought,
<v Speaker 1>why should she come at all? I was Asa Whitney's
<v Speaker 1>medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him.
<v Speaker 1>I could manage it better if I were alone. I
<v Speaker 1>promised her on my word that I would send him
<v Speaker 1>home in a cab within two hours if he were
<v Speaker 1>indeed at the address which she had given me, And
<v Speaker 1>so in ten minutes I had left my arm chair
<v Speaker 1>and cheery sitting room behind me, and was speeding eastward
<v Speaker 1>in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed
<v Speaker 1>to me at the time, though the future only could
<v Speaker 1>show how strange it was to be. But there was
<v Speaker 1>no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure.
<v Speaker 1>Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the
<v Speaker 1>high wharves which line the north side of the river
<v Speaker 1>to the east of London Bridge, between a slop shop
<v Speaker 1>and a gin shop. Approached by a steep flight of
<v Speaker 1>steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth
<v Speaker 1>of a cave. I found the den of which I
<v Speaker 1>was in search ordering my cab to wait, I passed
<v Speaker 1>down the steps, worn hollow in the center by the
<v Speaker 1>ceaseless tread of drunken feet, and by the light of
<v Speaker 1>a flickering oil lamp above the door. I found the
<v Speaker 1>latch and made my way into a long, low room,
<v Speaker 1>thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced
<v Speaker 1>with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship.
<v Speaker 1>Through the gloom, one could dimly catch a glimpse of
<v Speaker 1>bodies lying in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees,
<v Speaker 1>heads thrown back, and chin pointing upward, with here and
<v Speaker 1>there a dark, lackluster eye turned upon the newcomer. Out
<v Speaker 1>of the black shadows, there glimmered little red circles of light,
<v Speaker 1>now bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned.
<v Speaker 1>In the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay silent,
<v Speaker 1>but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together in
<v Speaker 1>a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes
<v Speaker 1>and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out
<v Speaker 1>his own thoughts and paying little heed to the words
<v Speaker 1>of his neighbor. At the farther end was a small
<v Speaker 1>brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three legged
<v Speaker 1>wooden stool, there sat a tall, thin old man, with
<v Speaker 1>his jaw resting upon his two fists and his elbows
<v Speaker 1>upon his knees, staring into the fire. As I entered,
<v Speaker 1>a sallow malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe
<v Speaker 1>for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me
<v Speaker 1>to an empty berth, thank you. I have not come
<v Speaker 1>to stay. There is a friend of mine here, mister
<v Speaker 1>Isa Whitney, and I wished to speak with him. There
<v Speaker 1>was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and
<v Speaker 1>peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard and unkempt,
<v Speaker 1>staring out at me. My god, it's Watson, said he.
<v Speaker 1>He was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every
<v Speaker 1>nerve in a twitter. I say, Watson, what o'clock is it?
<v Speaker 1>Nearly eleven of what day of Friday, June nineteenth? Good heavens,
<v Speaker 1>I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What do
<v Speaker 1>you want to frighten a chap for He sank his
<v Speaker 1>face unto his arms and began to sob in a
<v Speaker 1>high treble key. I tell you that it is Friday. Man.
<v Speaker 1>Your wife has been waiting this two days for you.
<v Speaker 1>You should be ashamed of yourself, so I am. But
<v Speaker 1>you've got mixed, Watson, for I've only been here a
<v Speaker 1>few hours. Three pipes, four pipes, I forget how many.
<v Speaker 1>But I'll go home with you. I wouldn't frighten Kate,
<v Speaker 1>poor little Kate. Give me your hand, and have you
<v Speaker 1>a cab? Yes, I have one waiting. Then I shall
<v Speaker 1>go in it. But I must owe something, find what
<v Speaker 1>I owe, Watson. I am all off color. I can
<v Speaker 1>do nothing for myself. I walked down the narrow passage
<v Speaker 1>between the double row of sleepers, holding my breath to
<v Speaker 1>keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, and
<v Speaker 1>looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall
<v Speaker 1>man who sat by the brazier, I felt a sudden
<v Speaker 1>pluck at my skirt, and a low voice whispered walk
<v Speaker 1>past me, and then look back at me. The words
<v Speaker 1>fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They
<v Speaker 1>could only have come from the old man at my side.
<v Speaker 1>And yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin,
<v Speaker 1>very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down
<v Speaker 1>from between his knees, as though it had dropped in
<v Speaker 1>sheer lassitude from his fingers. I took two steps forward
<v Speaker 1>and looked back. It took all my self control to
<v Speaker 1>prevent me from breaking out into a cry of astonishment.
<v Speaker 1>He turned his back so that none could see him
<v Speaker 1>but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone,
<v Speaker 1>the dull eyes had regained their fire, And there, sitting
<v Speaker 1>by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was none
<v Speaker 1>other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion to
<v Speaker 1>me to approach him, and instantly as he turned his
<v Speaker 1>face half round to the company, once more subsided into
<v Speaker 1>a doddering, loose lipped senility. Holmes, I whispered, what on
<v Speaker 1>earth are you doing in this den? As low as
<v Speaker 1>you can, he answered, I have excellent ears. If you
<v Speaker 1>would have the great kindness to get rid of that
<v Speaker 1>sawtish friend of yours, I should be exceedingly glad to
<v Speaker 1>have a little talk with you. I have a cab outside,
<v Speaker 1>then pray send him home in it. You may safely
<v Speaker 1>trust him, for he appears to be too limp to
<v Speaker 1>get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to
<v Speaker 1>send a note by the cabman to your wife to
<v Speaker 1>say that you have thrown in your lot with me.
<v Speaker 1>If you will wait outside, I shall be with you
<v Speaker 1>in five minutes. It was difficult to refuse any of
<v Speaker 1>Sherlock Holmbs's requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite
<v Speaker 1>and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery.
<v Speaker 1>I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in
<v Speaker 1>the cab, my mission was practically accomplished, and for the
<v Speaker 1>rest I could not wish anything better than to be
<v Speaker 1>associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures
<v Speaker 1>which were the normal condition of his existence. In a
<v Speaker 1>few minutes, I had written my note, paid Whitney's bill,
<v Speaker 1>led him out to the cab, and seen him driven
<v Speaker 1>through the darkness. In a very short time, a decrepit
<v Speaker 1>figure had emerged from the opium den, and I was
<v Speaker 1>walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes for two streets.
<v Speaker 1>He shuffled along with a bend back and an uncertain foot. Then,
<v Speaker 1>glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst into
<v Speaker 1>a hearty fit of laughter. I suppose Watson said he
<v Speaker 1>that you imagine that I have added opium smoking, to
<v Speaker 1>cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which
<v Speaker 1>you have favored me with your medical views. I was
<v Speaker 1>certainly surprised to find you there, but not more so
<v Speaker 1>than I to find you. I came to find a friend,
<v Speaker 1>and I to find an enemy, an enemy, yes, one
<v Speaker 1>of my natural enemies, or shall I say my natural prey? Briefly, Watson,
<v Speaker 1>I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry,
<v Speaker 1>and I have hoped to find a clue in the
<v Speaker 1>incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done before. Now.
<v Speaker 1>Had I been recognized in that den, my life would
<v Speaker 1>not have been worth an hour's purchase. For I have
<v Speaker 1>used it before now for my own purposes, and the
<v Speaker 1>rascally lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeance
<v Speaker 1>upon me. There is a trap door at the back
<v Speaker 1>of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which
<v Speaker 1>could tell some strange tales of what has passed through
<v Speaker 1>it upon the moonless nights. What you do not mean bodies? Aye, bodies, Watson.
<v Speaker 1>We should be rich men if we had a thousand
<v Speaker 1>pounds of every poor devil who had been done to
<v Speaker 1>death in that den. It is the vilest murder trap
<v Speaker 1>on the whole river side. And I fear that Neville
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair has entered it, never to leave it more.
<v Speaker 1>But our trap should be here. He put his two
<v Speaker 1>forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly, a signal, which
<v Speaker 1>was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed
<v Speaker 1>shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of
<v Speaker 1>horses hoofs now. Watson, said Holmes, as a tall dog
<v Speaker 1>cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden
<v Speaker 1>tunnels of yellow light from its side. Lands. You'll come
<v Speaker 1>with me, won't you? If I can be of use. Oh,
<v Speaker 1>A trusty comrade is always of use, and a chronicler
<v Speaker 1>still more so. My room at the Cedars is a
<v Speaker 1>double bedded one the Cedars. Yes, that is mister Saint
<v Speaker 1>Clair's house. I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry.
<v Speaker 1>Where is it then, near Lee in Kent? We have
<v Speaker 1>a seven mile drive before us. But I am all
<v Speaker 1>in the dark. Of course you are. You'll know all
<v Speaker 1>about it presently. Jump up here, all right, John, we
<v Speaker 1>shall not need you. Here's half a crown look out
<v Speaker 1>for me. Tomorrow about eleven, give her her head so long.
<v Speaker 1>Then he flicked the horse with his whip, and we
<v Speaker 1>dashed away through the endless succession of somber and deserted streets,
<v Speaker 1>which widened gradually until we were flying across a broad,
<v Speaker 1>balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us.
<v Speaker 1>Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its
<v Speaker 1>silence broken only by the heavy regular footfall of the policeman,
<v Speaker 1>or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revelers.
<v Speaker 1>A dull rack was drifting slowly across the sky, and
<v Speaker 1>a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through
<v Speaker 1>the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with
<v Speaker 1>his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of
<v Speaker 1>a man who is lost in thought, while I sat
<v Speaker 1>beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be,
<v Speaker 1>which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet
<v Speaker 1>afraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts.
<v Speaker 1>We had driven several miles and were beginning to get
<v Speaker 1>to the fringe of the belt of suburban villas when
<v Speaker 1>he shook himself shrugged his shoulders and lit up his
<v Speaker 1>pipe with the air of a man who is satisfied
<v Speaker 1>himself that he is acting for the best. You have
<v Speaker 1>a grand gift of silence, Watson said he. It makes
<v Speaker 1>you quite invaluable as a companion. Upon my word, it
<v Speaker 1>is a great thing for me to have some one
<v Speaker 1>to talk to for my own thoughts are not over pleasant.
<v Speaker 1>I was wondering what I should say to this dear
<v Speaker 1>little woman to night when she meets me at the door.
<v Speaker 1>You forget that I know nothing about it. I shall
<v Speaker 1>just have time to tell you the facts of the
<v Speaker 1>case before we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple,
<v Speaker 1>and yet somehow I can get nothing to go upon.
<v Speaker 1>There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't get
<v Speaker 1>the end of it into my hand. Now I'll state
<v Speaker 1>the case clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe
<v Speaker 1>you can see a spark where all is dark to me.
<v Speaker 1>Proceed then, some years ago to be definite. In May
<v Speaker 1>eighteen eighty four, there came to Lee a gentleman Neville,
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money.
<v Speaker 1>He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely,
<v Speaker 1>and lived generally in good style. By degrees, he made
<v Speaker 1>friends in the neighborhood, and in eighteen eighty seven he
<v Speaker 1>married the daughter of a local brewer, by whom he
<v Speaker 1>now has two children. He had no occupation, but was
<v Speaker 1>interested in several companies, and went into town as a
<v Speaker 1>rule in the morning, returning by the five fourteen from
<v Speaker 1>Cannon Street every night. Mister Saint Clair is now thirty
<v Speaker 1>seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits,
<v Speaker 1>a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man
<v Speaker 1>who's popular with all who know him. I may add
<v Speaker 1>that his whole debts at the present moment, as far
<v Speaker 1>as we have been able to ascertain, amount to eighty
<v Speaker 1>eight pounds ten shillings, while he has two hundred twenty
<v Speaker 1>pounds standing to his credit in the Capital and County's bank.
<v Speaker 1>There is no reason, therefore to think that money troubles
<v Speaker 1>have been weighing upon his mind. Last Monday, mister Neville
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair went into town rather earlier than usual, remarking
<v Speaker 1>before he started that he had two important commissions to perform,
<v Speaker 1>and that he would bring his little boy home a
<v Speaker 1>box of bricks. Now by the merest chance. His wife
<v Speaker 1>received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after
<v Speaker 1>his departure, to the effect that a small parcel of
<v Speaker 1>considerable value, which she had been expecting, was waiting for
<v Speaker 1>her the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if
<v Speaker 1>you are well up in your London, you will know
<v Speaker 1>that the office of the company is in Fresno Street,
<v Speaker 1>which branches out of upper Swandham Lane, where you found me.
<v Speaker 1>To night, Missus Saint Clair had her lunch, started for
<v Speaker 1>the city, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's office,
<v Speaker 1>got her packet, and found herself at exactly four thirty
<v Speaker 1>five walking through Swandham Lane on her way back to
<v Speaker 1>the station. Have you followed me so far? It is
<v Speaker 1>very clear if you remember. Monday was an exceedingly hot day,
<v Speaker 1>and Missus Saint Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the
<v Speaker 1>hope of seeing it cab, as she did not like
<v Speaker 1>the neighborhood in which she found herself. While she was
<v Speaker 1>walking in this way down Swandham Lane, she suddenly heard
<v Speaker 1>an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see
<v Speaker 1>her husband looking down at her, and, as it seemed
<v Speaker 1>to her beckoning to her from a second floor window.
<v Speaker 1>The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face,
<v Speaker 1>which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his
<v Speaker 1>hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window,
<v Speaker 1>so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had
<v Speaker 1>been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One
<v Speaker 1>singular point which struck her quite feminine eye was that,
<v Speaker 1>although he wore some dark coat, such as he had
<v Speaker 1>started to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie.
<v Speaker 1>Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down
<v Speaker 1>the steps, for the house was none other than the
<v Speaker 1>opium den in which you found me to night, and
<v Speaker 1>running through the front room, she attempted to ascend the stairs,
<v Speaker 1>which led to the first floor. At the foot of
<v Speaker 1>the stairs, however, she met this less scar scoundrel of
<v Speaker 1>whom I have spoken, who thrust her back, and, aided
<v Speaker 1>by a Dane who acts as assistant, there pushed her
<v Speaker 1>out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts
<v Speaker 1>and fears, she rushed down the lane, and, by rare
<v Speaker 1>good fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of constables
<v Speaker 1>with an inspector, all on their way to their beat.
<v Speaker 1>The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in
<v Speaker 1>spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made
<v Speaker 1>their way up to the room in which mister Saint
<v Speaker 1>Clair had last been seen. There was no sign of
<v Speaker 1>him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor,
<v Speaker 1>there was no one to be seen save a crippled
<v Speaker 1>wretch of hideous aspect, who it seems made his home there.
<v Speaker 1>Both he and the lascar stoutly swore that no one
<v Speaker 1>else had been in the front room during the afternoon.
<v Speaker 1>So determined was their denial that the Inspector was staggered
<v Speaker 1>and had almost come to believe that missus Sinclair had
<v Speaker 1>been deluded, when with a cry, she sprang at a
<v Speaker 1>small deal box which lay upon the table, and tore
<v Speaker 1>the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of
<v Speaker 1>children's bricks. It was a toy which he had promised
<v Speaker 1>to bring home. This discovery and the evident confusion which
<v Speaker 1>the cripple showed, made the inspector realize that the matter
<v Speaker 1>was serious. The rooms were carefully examined, and results all
<v Speaker 1>pointed to an abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished,
<v Speaker 1>as a sitting room, and led into a small bedroom
<v Speaker 1>which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves.
<v Speaker 1>Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow
<v Speaker 1>strip which is dry and low tide, but is covered
<v Speaker 1>at high tide with at least four and a half
<v Speaker 1>feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one
<v Speaker 1>and opened from below. On examination, traces of blood were
<v Speaker 1>to be seen upon the window sill, and several scattered
<v Speaker 1>drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom.
<v Speaker 1>Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were
<v Speaker 1>all the clothes of mister Neville Saint Clair, with the
<v Speaker 1>exception of his coat, his boots, his socks, his hat,
<v Speaker 1>and his watch all were there. There were no signs
<v Speaker 1>of violence upon any of these garments, and there were
<v Speaker 1>no other traces of mister Neville Saint Clair out of
<v Speaker 1>the window. He must apparently have gone for no other
<v Speaker 1>excit could be discovered, and the ominous blood stains upon
<v Speaker 1>the sill gave little promise that he could save himself
<v Speaker 1>by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest
<v Speaker 1>at the moment of the tragedy. And now as to
<v Speaker 1>the villains, who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter.
<v Speaker 1>The Lascar was known to be a man of the
<v Speaker 1>vilest antecedents, but as by Missus Saint Clair's story, he
<v Speaker 1>was known to have been at the foot of the
<v Speaker 1>stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance
<v Speaker 1>at the window, he could hardly have been more than
<v Speaker 1>an accessory to the crime. His defense was one of
<v Speaker 1>absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge
<v Speaker 1>as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and
<v Speaker 1>that he could not account in any way for the
<v Speaker 1>presence of the missing gentleman's clothes. So much for the
<v Speaker 1>Lascar manager, now for this sinister cripple who lives upon
<v Speaker 1>the second floor of the Opium Den, and who was
<v Speaker 1>certainly the last human being whose eyes upon Neville Saint Clair.
<v Speaker 1>His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is
<v Speaker 1>one which is familiar to every man who goes much
<v Speaker 1>to the city. He is a professional beggar, though in
<v Speaker 1>order to avoid the police regulations, he pretends to a
<v Speaker 1>small trade in wax veestas. Some little distance down thread
<v Speaker 1>Needle Street, upon the left hand side, there is, as
<v Speaker 1>you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall.
<v Speaker 1>Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat,
<v Speaker 1>cross legged, with his tiny stock of matches on his lap,
<v Speaker 1>And as he is a piteous spectacle, a small rain
<v Speaker 1>of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies
<v Speaker 1>upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow
<v Speaker 1>more than once before ever I thought of making his
<v Speaker 1>professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest
<v Speaker 1>which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance,
<v Speaker 1>you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass
<v Speaker 1>him without observing him. A shock of orange chair, a
<v Speaker 1>pale face disfigured by a horrible scar which, by its
<v Speaker 1>contraction has turned up the outer edges of his upper lip,
<v Speaker 1>a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes,
<v Speaker 1>which present a singular contrast to the color of his hair,
<v Speaker 1>all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants.
<v Speaker 1>And so too does his wit, for he is ever
<v Speaker 1>ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which
<v Speaker 1>may be thrown at him by the passers by. This
<v Speaker 1>is the man whom we now learned to have been
<v Speaker 1>the lodger at the Opium Den, and to have been
<v Speaker 1>the last man to see the gentleman of whom we
<v Speaker 1>are in quest, but a cripple, said I What could
<v Speaker 1>he have done single handed against a man in the
<v Speaker 1>prime of life. He is a cripple in the sense
<v Speaker 1>that he walks with a limp, but in other respects
<v Speaker 1>he appears to be a powerful and well nurtured man.
<v Speaker 1>Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness
<v Speaker 1>in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength
<v Speaker 1>and the others. Pray continue your narrative. Missus Sinclair had
<v Speaker 1>fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window,
<v Speaker 1>and she was escorted home in a cab by the police,
<v Speaker 1>as her presence could be of no help to them
<v Speaker 1>in their investigations. Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case,
<v Speaker 1>made a very careful examination of the premises, but without
<v Speaker 1>finding anything which threw any light upon the matter. One
<v Speaker 1>mistake had been made in not a resting Boone instantly,
<v Speaker 1>as he was allowed some few minutes during which he
<v Speaker 1>might have communicated with his friend the le scar. But
<v Speaker 1>this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and
<v Speaker 1>searched without anything being found which could incriminate him. Their
<v Speaker 1>word is true. Some blood stains upon his right shirt sleeve,
<v Speaker 1>but he pointed to his ring finger, which had been
<v Speaker 1>cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came
<v Speaker 1>from there, adding that he had been to the window
<v Speaker 1>not long before, and that the stains which had been
<v Speaker 1>observed there came doubtless from the same source. He denied
<v Speaker 1>strenuously having ever seen mister Neville Saint Clair, and swore
<v Speaker 1>that the presence of the clothes in his room was
<v Speaker 1>as much a mystery to him as to the police.
<v Speaker 1>As to Missus Saint Clair's assertion the she'd actually seen
<v Speaker 1>her husband at the window, he declared that she must
<v Speaker 1>have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly
<v Speaker 1>protesting to the police station, while the inspector remained upon
<v Speaker 1>the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might
<v Speaker 1>afford some fresh clue. And it did, though they hardly
<v Speaker 1>found upon the mud bank what they had feared to find.
<v Speaker 1>It was nevill Saint Clair's coat, and not Neville Saint Clair,
<v Speaker 1>which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do
<v Speaker 1>you think they found in the pockets? I cannot imagine. No,
<v Speaker 1>I don't think you would guess every pocket stuffed with
<v Speaker 1>pennies and half pennies four hundred twenty one pennies and
<v Speaker 1>two hundred seventy halfpennies. It was no wonder that it
<v Speaker 1>had not been swept away by the tide. But a
<v Speaker 1>human body is a different matter. There was a fierce
<v Speaker 1>eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely
<v Speaker 1>enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped
<v Speaker 1>body had been sucked away into the river. But I
<v Speaker 1>understand that all the other clothes were found in the room.
<v Speaker 1>Would the body be dressed in a coat alone, No, sir,
<v Speaker 1>But the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that
<v Speaker 1>this man's boone had thrust nevill Saint Clair through the window.
<v Speaker 1>There's no human eye which could have seen the deed.
<v Speaker 1>What would he do then? It would of course instantly
<v Speaker 1>strike him that he must get rid of the tell
<v Speaker 1>tale garments. He would seize the coat then, and be
<v Speaker 1>in the act of throwing it out when it would
<v Speaker 1>occur to him that it would swim and not sink.
<v Speaker 1>He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle
<v Speaker 1>downstairs when the wife tried to force her way up,
<v Speaker 1>and perhaps he's already heard from his Lascar confederate that
<v Speaker 1>the police are hurrying up the street. There's not an
<v Speaker 1>instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret horde
<v Speaker 1>where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and
<v Speaker 1>he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay
<v Speaker 1>his hands into the pockets to make sure of the
<v Speaker 1>coat's sinking. He throws it out, and would have done
<v Speaker 1>the same thing with the other garments, had not he
<v Speaker 1>heard the rush of steps below, and only just had
<v Speaker 1>time to close the window when the police appeared. It
<v Speaker 1>certainly sounds feasible. Well, we will take it as a
<v Speaker 1>working hypothesis for want of a better. Boone, as I
<v Speaker 1>have told you, was arrested and taken to the station,
<v Speaker 1>But it could not be shown that there had ever
<v Speaker 1>before been anything against him. He had for years been
<v Speaker 1>known as a professional beggar, but his life appeared to
<v Speaker 1>have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the
<v Speaker 1>matter stands at present, and the questions which have to
<v Speaker 1>be solved what Neville Saint Clair was doing in the
<v Speaker 1>Opium den, what happened to him when there, where is
<v Speaker 1>he now? And what Hugh Boone had to do with
<v Speaker 1>his disappearance, are all as far from a solution as ever.
<v Speaker 1>I confess that I cannot recall any case within my
<v Speaker 1>experience which looked at the first glance so simple and
<v Speaker 1>yet which presented such difficulties. While che la Combe had
<v Speaker 1>been detailing this singular series of events, we had been
<v Speaker 1>whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the
<v Speaker 1>last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled
<v Speaker 1>along with a country hedge upon either side of us.
<v Speaker 1>Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered
<v Speaker 1>villages where a few lights still glimmered in the windows.
<v Speaker 1>We are on the outskirts of Lee, said my companion.
<v Speaker 1>We have touched on three English counties in our short drive,
<v Speaker 1>starting in Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and
<v Speaker 1>ending in Kent. See that light among the trees, that
<v Speaker 1>is the cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman
<v Speaker 1>whose anxious ears have already I have little doubt caught
<v Speaker 1>the clink of our horses feet. But why are you
<v Speaker 1>not conducting the case from Baker Street, I asked, because
<v Speaker 1>there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Missus.
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal,
<v Speaker 1>and you may rest assured that she will have nothing
<v Speaker 1>but a welcome for my friend and colleague. I hate
<v Speaker 1>to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of
<v Speaker 1>her husband. Here we are, woa there WHOA. We had
<v Speaker 1>pulled up in front of a large villa which stood
<v Speaker 1>within its own grounds. A stable boy had run out
<v Speaker 1>to the horse's head, and springing down, I followed Holmes
<v Speaker 1>up the small winding gravel drive which led to the house.
<v Speaker 1>As we approached, the door flew open, and a little
<v Speaker 1>blond woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort
<v Speaker 1>of light musoline de sois, with a touch of fluffy
<v Speaker 1>pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with
<v Speaker 1>her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand
<v Speaker 1>upon the door, one half raised in her eagerness, her
<v Speaker 1>body slightly bent, her head and face protruded with eager
<v Speaker 1>eyes and parted lips. A standing question, well, she cried well,
<v Speaker 1>and then seeing that there were two of us, she
<v Speaker 1>gave a cry of hope, which sank into a groan
<v Speaker 1>as she saw that my companion shook his head and
<v Speaker 1>shrugged his shoulders. No good news, none, no bad no,
<v Speaker 1>thank God. For that, But come in. You must be weary,
<v Speaker 1>for you have had a long day. This is my friend,
<v Speaker 1>doctor Watson. He has been of most vital use to
<v Speaker 1>me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance
<v Speaker 1>has made it possible for me to bring him out
<v Speaker 1>and associate him with this investigation. I am delighted to
<v Speaker 1>see you, said she, pressing my hand warmly. You will,
<v Speaker 1>I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in
<v Speaker 1>our arrangements when you consider the blow which has come
<v Speaker 1>so suddenly upon us. My dear madam said I. I
<v Speaker 1>am an old campaigner, and if I were not, I
<v Speaker 1>can very well see that no apology is needed. If
<v Speaker 1>I can be of any assistance, either to you or
<v Speaker 1>to my friend here, I shall be indeed happy. Now,
<v Speaker 1>mister Sherlock Holmes, said the lady, as we entered a
<v Speaker 1>well lit dining room, upon the table of which a
<v Speaker 1>cold supper had been laid out. I should very much
<v Speaker 1>like to ask you one or two plain questions, to
<v Speaker 1>which I beg that you will give a plain answer. Certainly, madam,
<v Speaker 1>do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical
<v Speaker 1>nor given to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real,
<v Speaker 1>real opinion. Upon what point in your heart of hearts
<v Speaker 1>do you think that Neville is alive? Churlo Coombe seemed
<v Speaker 1>to be embarrassed by the question. Frankly now, she repeated,
<v Speaker 1>standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him
<v Speaker 1>as he leaned back in a basket chair. Frankly, then, Madam,
<v Speaker 1>I do not you think that he is dead? I
<v Speaker 1>do murdered? I don't say that. Perhaps, and on what
<v Speaker 1>day did he meet his death? On Monday? Then perhaps,
<v Speaker 1>mister Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how
<v Speaker 1>it is that I have received a letter from him
<v Speaker 1>to day. Churlo Combe sprang out of his chair, as
<v Speaker 1>if he had been galvanized. What he roared? Yes to day?
<v Speaker 1>She stood sling, holding up a little slip of paper
<v Speaker 1>in the air. May I see it? Certainly? He snatched
<v Speaker 1>it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out
<v Speaker 1>upon the table. He drew over the lamp and examined
<v Speaker 1>it intently. I had left my chair and was gazing
<v Speaker 1>at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very
<v Speaker 1>coarse one, and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and
<v Speaker 1>with the date of that very day, or rather of
<v Speaker 1>the day before, for it was considerably after midnight. Coarse writing,
<v Speaker 1>murmured Holmes. Surely this is not your husband's writing, madam. No,
<v Speaker 1>but the enclosure is. I perceive also that whoever addressed
<v Speaker 1>the envelope had to go and inquire as to the address.
<v Speaker 1>How can you tell that the name you see is
<v Speaker 1>in perfectly black ink which has dried itself. The rest
<v Speaker 1>is of the grayish color, which shows that blotting paper
<v Speaker 1>has been used. If it had been written straight off
<v Speaker 1>and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade.
<v Speaker 1>This man has written the name, and there has then
<v Speaker 1>been a pause before he wrote the address, which can
<v Speaker 1>only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is,
<v Speaker 1>of course a trifle, but there is nothing so important
<v Speaker 1>as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha, there's
<v Speaker 1>been an enclosure here. Yes, there was a ring, his
<v Speaker 1>signet ring. And you are sure that this is your
<v Speaker 1>husband's hand, one of his hands, one his hand when
<v Speaker 1>he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing,
<v Speaker 1>And yet I know it well, dearest, Do not be frightened.
<v Speaker 1>All will come well. There is a huge error, which
<v Speaker 1>it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in patience.
<v Speaker 1>Neville written in pencil upon the fly leaf of a
<v Speaker 1>book of Tavo size, no water mark. Hum post it
<v Speaker 1>to day in graves End by a man with a
<v Speaker 1>dirty thumb. Ah, and the flap has been gummed, if
<v Speaker 1>I am not very much in error, by a person
<v Speaker 1>who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt
<v Speaker 1>that it is your husband's hand, madam none. Neville wrote
<v Speaker 1>those words, and they were posted to day at graves End. Well, missus,
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair. The clouds lighten, though I should not venture
<v Speaker 1>to say that the danger is over. But he must
<v Speaker 1>be alive, mister Holmes, unless this is a clever forgery
<v Speaker 1>to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, after all,
<v Speaker 1>proves nothing. It may have been taken from him, No, no,
<v Speaker 1>it is. It is his very own writing. Very well.
<v Speaker 1>It may, however, have been written on Monday and only
<v Speaker 1>post it to day. That is possible, if so much
<v Speaker 1>may have happened between Oh, but you must not discourage me,
<v Speaker 1>mister Holmes. I know that all is well with him.
<v Speaker 1>There is so keen a sympathy between us that I
<v Speaker 1>should know if evil came upon him on the very
<v Speaker 1>day that I saw him last. He cut himself in
<v Speaker 1>the bedroom, and yet I, in the dining room, rushed
<v Speaker 1>upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened.
<v Speaker 1>Do you think that I would respond to such a
<v Speaker 1>trifle and yet be ignorant of his death. I have
<v Speaker 1>seen too much not to know that the impression of
<v Speaker 1>a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of
<v Speaker 1>an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have
<v Speaker 1>a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view.
<v Speaker 1>But if your husband is alive and able to write letters,
<v Speaker 1>why should he remain away from you? I cannot imagine.
<v Speaker 1>It is unthinkable. And on Monday he made no remarks
<v Speaker 1>before leaving you. No, and you were surprised to see
<v Speaker 1>him in Swandham Lane very much so was the window open? Yes,
<v Speaker 1>then he might have called to you. He might he only,
<v Speaker 1>as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry. Yes, he called
<v Speaker 1>for help. You thought, yes, he waved his hands, But
<v Speaker 1>it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at
<v Speaker 1>the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw
<v Speaker 1>up his hands. It is possible. And you thought he
<v Speaker 1>was pulled back he disappeared so suddenly he might have
<v Speaker 1>leaped back. You did not see any one else in
<v Speaker 1>the room. No, but this horrible man confessed to having
<v Speaker 1>been there, And though a scar was at the foot
<v Speaker 1>of the stairs, quite so. Your husband, as far as
<v Speaker 1>you could see, had his ordinary clothes on, but without
<v Speaker 1>his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat.
<v Speaker 1>Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane? Never had he
<v Speaker 1>ever showed any signs of having taken an opium? Never?
<v Speaker 1>Thank you, missus Saint Clair. Those are the principal points
<v Speaker 1>about which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall
<v Speaker 1>now have a little supper and then retire, for we
<v Speaker 1>may have a very busy day tomorrow. A large and
<v Speaker 1>comfortable double bedded room had been placed at our disposal,
<v Speaker 1>and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was
<v Speaker 1>weary after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who,
<v Speaker 1>when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would
<v Speaker 1>go for days and even for a week without rest,
<v Speaker 1>turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from
<v Speaker 1>every point of view, until he had either fathomed it
<v Speaker 1>or convinced himself that his data were insufficient it was
<v Speaker 1>soon evident to me that he was now preparing for
<v Speaker 1>an all night sitting. He took off his coat and waistcoat,
<v Speaker 1>put on a large blue dressing gown, and then wandered
<v Speaker 1>about the room, collecting pillows from his bed and cushions
<v Speaker 1>from the sofa and arm chairs. With these he constructed
<v Speaker 1>a sort of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself
<v Speaker 1>cross legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a
<v Speaker 1>box of matches laid out in front of him. In
<v Speaker 1>the dim light of the lamp, I saw him sitting there,
<v Speaker 1>an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed
<v Speaker 1>vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke
<v Speaker 1>curling up from him, silent, motionless, with a light shining
<v Speaker 1>upon his strong set aquiline features. So he sat as
<v Speaker 1>I dropped off to sleep, And so he sat when
<v Speaker 1>a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I
<v Speaker 1>found the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe
<v Speaker 1>was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upward,
<v Speaker 1>and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze.
<v Speaker 1>But nothing remained of the heap of shag which I
<v Speaker 1>had seen upon the previous night. Awake Watson, he asked, yes,
<v Speaker 1>game for a morning drive. Certainly then, no one is
<v Speaker 1>stirring yet, But I know where the stable boy sleeps,
<v Speaker 1>and we shall soon have the trap out. He chuckled
<v Speaker 1>to himself. As he spoke. His eyes twinkled, and he
<v Speaker 1>seemed a different man to the somber thinker of the
<v Speaker 1>previous night. As I dressed, I glanced at my watch.
<v Speaker 1>It was no wonder that no one was stirring. It
<v Speaker 1>was twenty five minutes past four. I'd hardly finish when
<v Speaker 1>Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting
<v Speaker 1>in the horse. I want to test a little theory
<v Speaker 1>of mine, said he, pulling on his boots. I think, Watson,
<v Speaker 1>that you are now standing in the presence of one
<v Speaker 1>of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to
<v Speaker 1>be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think
<v Speaker 1>I have the key of the affair now. And where
<v Speaker 1>is it? I asked, smiling in the bathroom, he answered,
<v Speaker 1>Oh yes, I'm not joking, he continued, seeing my look
<v Speaker 1>of incredulity. I have just been there, and I have
<v Speaker 1>taken it out, and I have got it in this
<v Speaker 1>gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, we shall see whether
<v Speaker 1>it will not fit the lock. We made our way
<v Speaker 1>downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright
<v Speaker 1>morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap,
<v Speaker 1>with the half clad stable boy waiting at the head.
<v Speaker 1>We both sprang in and away we dashed down the
<v Speaker 1>London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing in
<v Speaker 1>vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on
<v Speaker 1>either side were as silent and lifeless as some city
<v Speaker 1>in a dream. It has been in some points a
<v Speaker 1>singular case, said Holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop.
<v Speaker 1>I confess that I have been as blind as a mole.
<v Speaker 1>But it is better to learn wisdom late than never
<v Speaker 1>to learn it at all. In town, the earliest risers
<v Speaker 1>were just beginning to look sleepily from their windows as
<v Speaker 1>we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. Passing
<v Speaker 1>down the Waterloo Bridge Road, we crossed over the river, and,
<v Speaker 1>dashing up Wellington Street, wheeled sharply to the right and
<v Speaker 1>found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known
<v Speaker 1>to the force, and the two constables at the door
<v Speaker 1>saluted him. One of them held the horse's head, while
<v Speaker 1>the other led us in. Who's on duty? Asked Holmes,
<v Speaker 1>Inspector Bradstreet. Sir, Ah, Brad Street, how are you? A
<v Speaker 1>tall stout official had come down the stone flagged passage
<v Speaker 1>in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. I wish to
<v Speaker 1>have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet. Certainly, mister Holmes,
<v Speaker 1>step into my room. Here. It was a small office
<v Speaker 1>like rooum, with a huge ledger upon the table and
<v Speaker 1>a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down
<v Speaker 1>at his desk. What can I do for you, mister Holmes.
<v Speaker 1>I called about that beggarman Boone, the one who was
<v Speaker 1>charged with being concerned in the disappearance of mister Neville
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair of Lee. Yes, he was brought up and
<v Speaker 1>remanded for further inquiries. So I heard you have him
<v Speaker 1>here in the cells. Is he quiet? Oh? He gives
<v Speaker 1>no trouble. But he's a dirty scoundrel dirty. Yes. It
<v Speaker 1>is all we can do to make him wash his hands,
<v Speaker 1>and his face is as black as a tinker's well.
<v Speaker 1>And once his case has been settled, he will have
<v Speaker 1>a regular prison bath. And I think if you saw him,
<v Speaker 1>you would agree with me that he needed it. I
<v Speaker 1>should like to see him very much, would you. That's
<v Speaker 1>easily done. Come this way you can leave your bag. No,
<v Speaker 1>I think that I'll take it very good. Come this
<v Speaker 1>way if you please. He let us down. A passage opened,
<v Speaker 1>a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought
<v Speaker 1>us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors
<v Speaker 1>on each side. The third on the right is his,
<v Speaker 1>said the inspector. Here it is. He quietly shot back
<v Speaker 1>a panel in the upper part of the door and
<v Speaker 1>glanced through. He's asleep, said he. You can see him
<v Speaker 1>very well. We both put our eyes to the grating.
<v Speaker 1>The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a
<v Speaker 1>very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a
<v Speaker 1>middle sized man, coarsely clad, as became his calling, with
<v Speaker 1>a colored shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat.
<v Speaker 1>He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but
<v Speaker 1>the grime which covered his face could not conceal its
<v Speaker 1>repulsive ugliness. A broad wheel from an old scar ran
<v Speaker 1>right across it from eye to chin, and by its
<v Speaker 1>contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip,
<v Speaker 1>so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl.
<v Speaker 1>A shock of very bright red hair grew low over
<v Speaker 1>his eyes and forehead. He's a beauty, isn't he, said
<v Speaker 1>the inspector. He certainly needs a wash, remarked Holmes. I
<v Speaker 1>had an idea that he might, and I took the
<v Speaker 1>liberty of bringing the tools with me. He opened the
<v Speaker 1>gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment,
<v Speaker 1>a very large bath sponge. He eh, you're a funny one,
<v Speaker 1>chuckled the inspector. Now, if you will have the great
<v Speaker 1>goodness to open that door very quietly, we will soon
<v Speaker 1>make him cut a much more respectable figure. Well, I dunno,
<v Speaker 1>why not, said the inspector. He doesn't look a credit
<v Speaker 1>to the Bow Street cells, does he. He slipped his
<v Speaker 1>key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered
<v Speaker 1>the cell. The sleeper half turned and then settled down
<v Speaker 1>once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to the
<v Speaker 1>water jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice
<v Speaker 1>vigorously across and down the prisoner's face. Let me introduce you,
<v Speaker 1>he shouted to mister Neville, Saint Clair of Lee in
<v Speaker 1>the County of Kent. Never in my life have I
<v Speaker 1>seen such a sight. The man's face pealed off under
<v Speaker 1>the sponge, like the bark from a tree. Gone was
<v Speaker 1>the coarse brown tint. Gone too was the horrid scar
<v Speaker 1>which had seemed it across, and the twisted lip which
<v Speaker 1>had given the repulsive sneer to the face. A twitch
<v Speaker 1>brought away the tangled red hair. And there, sitting up
<v Speaker 1>in his bed was a pale, sad faced, refined looking man,
<v Speaker 1>black haired and smooth skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring
<v Speaker 1>about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then, suddenly realizing the exposure,
<v Speaker 1>he broke into a scream and threw himself down with
<v Speaker 1>his face to the pillow. Great Heavens, cried the inspector.
<v Speaker 1>It is indeed the missing man. I know him from
<v Speaker 1>the photograph. The prisoner turned with the reckless air of
<v Speaker 1>a man who abandons himself to his destiny. Be it so,
<v Speaker 1>said he, And pray what am I charged with with
<v Speaker 1>making away with mister Nevills. Oh? Come, you can't be
<v Speaker 1>charged with that unless they make a case of attempted
<v Speaker 1>suicide of it, said the inspector with a grin. Well,
<v Speaker 1>I have been twenty seven years in the force, but
<v Speaker 1>this really takes the cake. If I am mister Neville
<v Speaker 1>Saint Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has
<v Speaker 1>been committed, and that therefore I am illegally detained. No crime,
<v Speaker 1>but a very great error has been committed, said Holmes.
<v Speaker 1>You would have done better to have trusted your wife.
<v Speaker 1>It was not the wife, it was the children, groaned
<v Speaker 1>the prisoner. God help me, I would not have them
<v Speaker 1>ashamed of their father. My God, what an exposure. What
<v Speaker 1>can I do? Chelacombe sat down beside him on the
<v Speaker 1>couch and patted him kindly on the shoulder. If you
<v Speaker 1>leave it to a court of law to clear the
<v Speaker 1>matter up, said he. Of course, you can hardly avoid publicity.
<v Speaker 1>On the other hand, if you convince the police authorities
<v Speaker 1>that there is no possible case against you, I do
<v Speaker 1>not know that there is any reason that the details
<v Speaker 1>should find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet, would
<v Speaker 1>I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might
<v Speaker 1>tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The
<v Speaker 1>case would then never go into court at all. God
<v Speaker 1>bless you, cried the prisoner Passionately, I would have endured imprisonment,
<v Speaker 1>ay even execution, rather than I have left my miserable
<v Speaker 1>secret as a family blot to my children. You are
<v Speaker 1>the first to have ever heard my story. My father
<v Speaker 1>was a schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education.
<v Speaker 1>I traveled in my youth, took to the stage, and
<v Speaker 1>finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London.
<v Speaker 1>One day, my editor wished to have a series of
<v Speaker 1>articles upon begging in the Metropolis, and I volunteered to
<v Speaker 1>supply them. There was the point from which all my
<v Speaker 1>adventures started. It was only by trying begging as an
<v Speaker 1>amateur that I could get the facts upon which to
<v Speaker 1>base my articles. When an actor, I had of course
<v Speaker 1>learned all the secrets of making up, and had been
<v Speaker 1>famous in the green room for my skill. I took
<v Speaker 1>advantage now of my attainments. I painted my face, and
<v Speaker 1>to make myself as pitiable as possible, I made a
<v Speaker 1>good scar and fixed one side of my lip in
<v Speaker 1>a twist by the aid of a small slip of
<v Speaker 1>flesh colored plaster. Then, with a red head of hair
<v Speaker 1>and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the
<v Speaker 1>business part of the city, ostensibly as a match, but
<v Speaker 1>really as a beggar. For seven hours I applied my trade,
<v Speaker 1>and when I returned home in the evening, I found
<v Speaker 1>to my surprise that I had received no less than
<v Speaker 1>twenty six shillings and fourpence. I wrote my articles and
<v Speaker 1>thought little more of the matter until some time later
<v Speaker 1>I backed a bill for a friend and had a
<v Speaker 1>writ served upon me for twenty five pounds. I was
<v Speaker 1>at my WIT's end where to get the money, but
<v Speaker 1>a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's
<v Speaker 1>grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers,
<v Speaker 1>and spent the time in begging in the city under
<v Speaker 1>my disguise. In ten days I had the money and
<v Speaker 1>had paid the debt. Well you can imagine how hard
<v Speaker 1>it was to settle down to arduous work at two
<v Speaker 1>pounds a week, when I knew that I could earn
<v Speaker 1>as much in a day by smearing my face with
<v Speaker 1>a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and
<v Speaker 1>sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride
<v Speaker 1>and the money, but the dollars won at last, and
<v Speaker 1>I threw up reporting and sat day after day in
<v Speaker 1>the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by
<v Speaker 1>my ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers. Only
<v Speaker 1>one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of
<v Speaker 1>a low den in which I used to lodge in
<v Speaker 1>Swandham Lane, where I could every morning emerge as a
<v Speaker 1>squalid beggar, and in the evenings transform myself into a
<v Speaker 1>well dressed man about town. This fellow, a Lescar, was
<v Speaker 1>well paid by me for his rooms, so that I
<v Speaker 1>knew that my secret was safe in his possession. Well,
<v Speaker 1>very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums
<v Speaker 1>of money. I do not mean that any beggar in
<v Speaker 1>the streets of London could earn seven hundred pounds a year,
<v Speaker 1>which is less than my average takings. But I had
<v Speaker 1>exceptional advantages in my power of making up, and also
<v Speaker 1>in a facility of repartee, which improved by practice and
<v Speaker 1>made me quite a recognized character in the city. All
<v Speaker 1>day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in
<v Speaker 1>upon me, and it was a very bad day in
<v Speaker 1>which I failed to take two pounds. As I grew richer,
<v Speaker 1>I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country,
<v Speaker 1>and eventually married without any When having a suspicion as
<v Speaker 1>to my real occupation, my dear wife knew that I
<v Speaker 1>had business in the city. She little knew what. Last Monday,
<v Speaker 1>I had finished for the day and was dressing in
<v Speaker 1>my room above the opium den when I looked out
<v Speaker 1>of my window and saw, to my horror and astonishment,
<v Speaker 1>that my wife was standing in the street with her
<v Speaker 1>eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise,
<v Speaker 1>threw up my arms to cover my face, and rushing
<v Speaker 1>to my confidant, though a scar entreated him to prevent
<v Speaker 1>any one from coming up to me. I heard her
<v Speaker 1>voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend Swiftly.
<v Speaker 1>I threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar,
<v Speaker 1>and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's
<v Speaker 1>eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then
<v Speaker 1>it occurred to me that there might be a search
<v Speaker 1>in the room, and that the clothes might betray me.
<v Speaker 1>I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a
<v Speaker 1>small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the
<v Speaker 1>bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was
<v Speaker 1>waited by the coppers, which I had just transferred to
<v Speaker 1>it from the bag in which I carried my takings.
<v Speaker 1>I hurled it out of the window and it disappeared
<v Speaker 1>into the Thames. The other clothes would have followed, but
<v Speaker 1>at that moment there was a rush of constables up
<v Speaker 1>the stair, and a few minutes after I found rather,
<v Speaker 1>I confessed to my relief that instead of being identified
<v Speaker 1>as mister Neville Saint Clair, I was arrested as his murderer.
<v Speaker 1>I do not know that there is anything else for
<v Speaker 1>me to explain. I was determined to preserve my disguise
<v Speaker 1>as long as possible, and hence my preference for a
<v Speaker 1>dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious,
<v Speaker 1>I slipped off my ring and confided it to the
<v Speaker 1>lescar at a moment when no constable was watching me,
<v Speaker 1>together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had
<v Speaker 1>no cause to fear. That note only reached her yesterday,
<v Speaker 1>said Holmes. Good God, what a week she must have spent.
<v Speaker 1>The police have watched this Lascar, said Inspector Bradstreet, and
<v Speaker 1>I can quite understand that he might find it difficult
<v Speaker 1>to post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed to some
<v Speaker 1>sailor custom of his, who forgot all about it for
<v Speaker 1>some days. That was it, said Holmess, nodding approvingly. I
<v Speaker 1>have no doubt of it. But have you never been
<v Speaker 1>prosecuted for begging? Many times? But what was a fine
<v Speaker 1>to me? It must stop here, however, said Bradstreet. If
<v Speaker 1>the police are to hush this thing up, there must
<v Speaker 1>be no more of Hugh Boon. I have sworn it
<v Speaker 1>by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.
<v Speaker 1>In that case, I think that it is probable that
<v Speaker 1>no further steps may be taken. But if you are
<v Speaker 1>found again, then all must come out. I am sure,
<v Speaker 1>mister Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you
<v Speaker 1>for having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew
<v Speaker 1>how you reach your results. I reached this one, said
<v Speaker 1>my friend, by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an
<v Speaker 1>ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive
<v Speaker 1>to Baker Street, we shall just be in time for breakfast.