Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 October 1894 — A STUDY IN SCARLET. [ARTICLE]

A STUDY IN SCARLET.

BY A. CONAN DOYLE.

PART I. [Betas • reprint from the reminiscences of John 11. Watson, M. D., late of the Army Medica ' Department.] ~" 7— CHAPTER IT— ContincedT 7-

"You mean the retired sergeant of marines,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Brag and bounce!” thought I to myself. “He knows that I can not verify his guess.” _ . — —- The thought had hardly passed through my mind when the man whom we were watching caught sight of the number on our door, and ran rapidly across the roadway. We heard a loud knock, a deep voice below, and heavy steps ascending the stair. “For Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he said, stepping into the room and handing my friend the letter. Here was an opportunity of taking the conceit out of him. He little thought of this when he made that random shot. “May I ask, my lad,” I said, blandly, “what your trade may be?” “Commissionaire, sir;” he said, gruffly. I ‘Uniform away for repairs.” “And you were?” 1 asked, with a slightly malicious glance at my companion. “A sergeant, sir; Royal Marine Light Infantry, sir. No answer? Right, sir.” He clicked his] heels together, raised his hand in salute, and was gone. CHAPTER 111. THE LAERISTON GARDENS MYSTERY. I confess that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion’s theories. My repect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurking suspicion in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a prearranged episode, intended to- dazzle me. though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension. When I looked at him he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-luster expression which showed mental abstraction. “How in the world did you deduce that?” I asked. “Deduce what?” said he, ly“Why, that he was a retired sergeant of marines.” “I have no time for trifles,” he replied, brusquely; then, with a smile, “Excuse my rudeness. You broke the thread of my thoughts; but perhaps it is as well. So you actually were not able to see that that man was a sergeant of marines?” “No, indeed.” “It was easier to know it than to explain why I know it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could see a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fellow’s hand. That smacked of the sea. He had amilitary carriage, however, and regulation side-whis-kers. There we have the marine. He was a man with some amount of self-impoHance and a certain air of command. You must have observed the way in which he held his head and swung his cane. A steady, respectable, middle-aged man. too, on the face of him—all facts which led ine to believe that he had been a sergeant.” “Wonderful 1” I ejaculated. “Commonplace," said Holmes, though I thought from his expression 1 hat he was pleased at my evident surprise and admiration. “I said just now that there were no criminals. It appears that lam wrong—look at this 1” He threw me over the note which the commissionaire had brought. “Why.” I cried, as I cast my eye over it, “this is terrible I” “It does seem to be a little out of the common,” he remarked, calmly. “Would you mind reading it to me aloud ?” Tins is the letter which I read to him: “My Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes: There has been a bad business during the night at3Lauriston Gardens, off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beat saw a light there about two in the morning, and as the house was an empty one, suspected that something was amiss. He found the door open, and in the front room, which is bare of furniture, discovered the body of a gentleman, well-dressed, and having cards in his rcket bearing the name of ‘Enoch Drebber, Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A.’ The, re had been no robbery, nor is there any evidence as to how the man met his death. There are marks of blood in the room, but there is no wound upon his person. We are at a loss as to how he came into the empty house; indeed, the whole affair is a puzzler. If you can come 1 ■ around to the bouse, any time before twelve you will find me there. I have lejt everything in statu quo until I hear from you. If you are unable to come I shall give you fuller details, and would esteem it a great kindness if you would favor me with your opinion. Yours faithfully. “Tobias Gregson.” I “Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders,” my friend remarked; “he and Lestrade are the pick 'of a bad lot They are both quick and energetic, but al —shockingly' sb. They have their knives into each other, too. They are as jealous as a pair rsf proses-

sional beauties. There will be some fun over this case if they are both put upon the scent.” I was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on. “Surely there is not a moment to be lost." I cried: “shall I go and order you a cab?”“I am not sure whether I shall go. I am the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather —that is, when the fit is on me, for I can be spry enough at times." " ‘ Why, it is just such a chance as you have beer, longing for.” “My dear fellow, what does it matter to me? Supposing I unravel the whole matter, you may be sure that Gregson, Lestrade & Co. will pocket all the credit. That comes of being an unofficial personage.” “But he begs you to help him.” “Yes. He- knows that 1- am his superior, and acknowledges it to me, but he would cut his tongue out .before he would own it to a third person. However, we may as well go and have a look. I shall work it out on my own hook. I may have a laugh at them, if I have nothing else. Come on!” ___.Ha..hustled—oa -his overcoat, and bustled about in a way that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the apathetic one. “Get your hat,” he said. “You wish me to come?” “Yes, if you have nothing better to do.” —A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously' for trie Brixton Road. It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun-colored veil hungover the housetops,"looking like the reflection of the mud-covered streets beneath. My companion was in the best of spirits, and prattled away about Cremona fiddles, and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati, As for myself, I was silent, for the dull weather and the melancholy business upon which we were engaged depressed my spirits. “You don’t seem to give much thought to the matter in band,” I said, at last, interrupting Holmes’s musical disquisition. “No data yet,” he answered. “It is a capital mistake to theorize be- I fore you have all the evidence. It I biases the judgment,” “You will have your data soon,” I remarked, pointing with my finger; “this is the Brixton Road,and that is the house, if I am not very much mistaken.” ~ “So it is., Stop, driver, stop!” We were still a hundred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alighting, and we finished our journey upon foot. No. 3 Lauriston Gardens wore an ill-omened and minatory look. It was one of four which stood back some little way from the street, two being occupied and two empty. The latter looked out with three!jtiers of vacant, melancholy windows, which were blank and dreary; save that here and there a “Tb Let" card had developed like a cataract upon the bleared panes. A small garden sprinkled over with a small eruption of sickly plants separated each of these houses from the street, and was traversed by a narrow pathway, yellowish in color, and consisting apparently of a mixture of clay and gravel. The whole place was very sloppy from the rain which had fallen through the night. The garden was bounded by a three-foot brick wall with a fringe of wood rails upon the top, and against this wall was leaning a stalwart police constable, sur-rounded-by a small knot of loafers, who craned their necks and strained their eyes in the vain hope of catching some glimpse of the proceedings within. I had imagined that Sherlock Holmes would at once have hurried in to the house and plunged in to study of the mystery. Nothing appeared to be further from his intention. With an air of nonchalence which, under the circumstances, seemed to border upon affectation, he lounged up and down the pavement and gazed vacantly at the ground, the sky, the opposite houses and the line of railings. Having finished his scrutiny, he proceeded slowly down the path, or, rather down the fringe of grass which flanked the path, keeping his eyes riveted upon the ground. Twice he stopped and once I saw him smile and heard him utter an exclamation of satisfaction. There were many marks of footsteps upon the wet, clayey soil, but since police had been coming and going over it I was unable to see how my companion could hope to learn anything from it. Still I had had such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties that I had no doubt that he could see a great deal which was hidden from me. At the door of the house we were met by a tall, white faced, flaxen haired man, with a note book in his hand, who rushed forward and wrung my companion’s hand with effusion. > “It is indeed kind of you tooome,” he said; “I have had everything left untouched.” “Except thatl" my friend answered to the pathway. “If a herd of buffaloes had passed there could not be a greater mess. No doubt, however, you had drawn

your own conclusions, Gregson, before you permitted this.” “I had so much to do inside the house,” the detective said evasively. “My colleague, Mr. Lestrade, is -here.. I relied on him to look after this.” Holmes glanced at me and raised his eyebrows sardonically. “With two such men as yourself and Lestrade upon the ground there will not be much for a third party to find out,” he said. Gregson rubbed his hands in a self-satisfied way. “I think we have done all that can be done,” he answered; “It is a queer case, though, and I knew your taste for such things." ■, , , , ■ “You did not come here in a cab?” asked Sherlock Holmes. “No, sir.” z “Nor Lestrade?” “No, sir?" “Then let us go and look at the room.” With this inconsequent remark he strode on into the house, followed by Gregson, whose features expressed astonishment. A short passage, bare planked and dusty, led to the kitchen and offices. Two doors opened out of it to the left and to the right. One of these had obviously been closed for many weeks. The other belonged to the dining room, which was the apartment in which the mysterious affair had occurred. Holmes walked in and I followed him with that subdued feeling at my heart which the presence of death inspires. It was a large, square room, looking all the larger for the absence of all furniture. A vulgar, flaring paper adorned the walls, but it was blotched in places with mildew, and here and there .great strips had become detached and hung down, exposing the yellow plaster beneath. Opposite the door was a showy, fireplace surmounted by a mantel piece of imitation white marble. On one corner of this was stuck the solitary window was so dirty that the light was hazy and uncertain, giving a dull gray tinge to everything, which was intensified by the thick layer of dust which coated the whole apartment. All these details I observed afterward. At present my attention was centered upon the single grim, motionless figure which lay stretched upbn the boards, with vacant, sightless eyes staring up at the-discolored ceiling. It was that of a man about forty-three or forty-four years of age, middle sized, brogd-shouldered, with crisp, curling black hair and a short, stubby beard. He was dressed in a heavy broadcloth frockcoat and waistcoat, with lightcolored trousers and immaculate collar and cuffs. A top hat, well brushed and trim, was placed upon the floor beside him. His hands were clinched and his arms thrown abroad, while bis lower limbs were in terlocked as tho ugh his death struggle had been a greiyous one. On his rigid face there stood an expression of horror,‘and, as it seemed to me, of hatred, such as I have never seen upon human features. This malignant and terrible contortion, combined with the low forehead, blunt nose and pugnacious jaw, gave the dead man a singularly simibus and ape-like appearance; which was increased by his writhing, unnatural posture. I have seen death in many forms, bnt never has it appeared to me in a more fearsome aspect than in that dark, grimV apartment, which looked out upon one of the main arteries of I suburban London. Lestrade, lean and ferret-eyed as ever, was standing by the doorway and greeted my companion and myself, “This case will make a stir, sir," he remarked. “It beats anything I have seen, and I am no chicken.” “There is no clew,” said~Gregson. “None at all,” chimed in Lestrade. Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling down, examined it intently. “You are sure that there is no wound?" he asked, pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all around. “Positive!” cried both detectives. “Then, of course, this blood belongs to a second individual—presumably the murderer, if murder has been committed. It reminds me of the circumstances attendant on the death of Van Jansen, in Utrecht, in the year '34. Do you remember the case, Gregson?” “No, sir.” “Read it up—you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before." As he spoke his nimble fingers were flying here, there and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes wore the same far-away expression which I have already remarked upon. So swiftly was the examination made that one would hardly have guessed Vie minuteness with which it was conducted. Finally he sniffed the dead man's lips, ana then glanced at the soles of his patent leather boots. “He has not been moved at all?” he asked. “No more than was necessarySfor the purpose of our examination.” “You can take him to the mortuary now,” he said. “There is nothing more to bejearned." Gregson had a stretcher and four men at hand. At his call they entered the room, and the stranger was lifted and carried out. As they raised him, a ring tinkled down and rolled across the floor. Lestrade grabbed it up and stared at it with mystified eyes. “There's been a woman here,” he eried. . v lt’s a woman's wedding ring.” He held it out, as he spoke, upon the palm of his band. We all gath-

ered round him and gazed at it There could be no doubt that that circle of plain gold had once adorned the finger of a bride. “This complicates matters," said Gregson. “Heaven knows, they were complicated enough before!” “You're sure it doesn’t simplify them?” observed Holmes; “There’s nothing to be learned by staring at it. What did you find in his pocketc?" “We have it ad here,” said Gregson, pointing to a litter of objects upon one of the bottom steps of the stairs. “A gold watch No. 97,163, by Barraud, of London. Gold Albert chain, very heavy and solid. Gold—ring,' wi th Mason io device. Gold pin—bull dog’s head, with rubies as eyes. Russian leather card case, with cards of Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland, corresponding with the E. J. D. upon the linen. No purse, but loose money to the extent of seven pounds thirteen. Pocket edition of Boccaccio’s ‘Decameron,’ with name of Joseph Stangerson upon the fly leaf. Two' letters—one addressed to E. J. Drebber and one to Joseph Stangerson.”' “At what address?” “American Exchange, Strand —to be. left till called for. They are both from the Guion Steamship Company, and refer to the sailing of their boats-from Liverpool. It is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return to New York.” “Have you made any inquiries as to this man Stangerson?” “I did it at once, sir,” said Gregson. “I have had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the American Exchange, but he has not returned yet.” “Have you sent to Cleveland?” ‘‘ We tel egraphed th is mo r ning. ’ : “How.did you word your inquiries?” “We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that we should be .jzUml of. imy in. formut i o nwhich could.; help us.” “You did not ask for particulars on any point which appeared to you to be crucial?” “I asked about Stangerson.” “Nothing elge? Is there no circumstance on which this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not telegraph again?” “I have said all I have to say,” said Gregson, in an offended voice. Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared to be about to make some remark, when Lestrade, who had been in the front room while we were holding this conversation in the hall, reapp&red upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner. “Mr. Gregson,” he said, “I have just made a discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have been overlooked had I not made a careful examination of the walls.” The 1 itile m an' s eyes sparkled as he spoke-, and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having scored a point against his colleague. “Come here,” he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt cleaner since the removal of its ghastly inmate. “Now, stand there.” He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall. (TO BS CONI'INU ED.)