Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 November 1894 — A STUDU IN SCARLET. [ARTICLE]

A STUDU IN SCARLET.

BY A. CONAN DOYLE.

• j PART I. £®b tag % reprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watsok, I£. D., late of the Army Madlca Department.] ' CHAPTER VII.

LIOHT IN THE DARKNESS. The intelligence with which Lestrade greeted us was so momentous -Bad so unexpected that we were all three fairly dumfounded. Gregson sprang out of his chair and upset the reinainder of his whiskyand water. I stared in silence at Sherlock Holmes, whose lips werecompressed and his brows drawn down dyer his eyes. “Stangerson, too!” he muttered. “The plot thickens." “It was quite thick enough before,” grumbled Lestrade, taking n chair. “I seem to have dropped into a sort of council of war." “Are you—are you sure of this piece of " intelligence?” stammered Gregs on. “1 have just come from his room," said Lestrade. “I was the first to discover what had occurred.” “We have been hearing Gregson’s view of the matter," Holmes observed. “Would you mind letting us know what you have seen and done?" “I have no objection," Lestrade answered, seating himself. “I freely confess that I was of the opinion that Stangerson was concerned in the death of Drebber. This fresh development has shown me that I was completely mistaken. Full of the < one -idea, I set myself to find out what had become o£ the secretary. They had been together at Euston Station about half past •eight on the evening of the third. At two in the morning Drebber had been found in the Brixton Road. The question which confronted me was to find out how Stangerson had been employed between 8:30 and the time of the crime, and whaFhad become of him afterward. I telegraphed to Liveroool, giving a description of the man, and warning them to keep a yatch upon the American boats. F then set to work calling upon all the hotels and lodg-ing-houses in the vicinity of Euston. You see, I argued that if Drebber aad his companion had become separated, the natural course for the latter would be to put up somewhere in the vicinity for the night, and then to hang about the station again next morning!” “Thej' would be likely to agree on .■some meeting-place beforehand,” remarked Holmes. “So it proved, I spent the whole of yesterday in making inquiries entirely without avail. This morning I began very early, and at eight o’clock I reached Hailiday’s Private Hotel, in Little George Street. On my inquiry as to whether a Mr.Stangerson was living there, they at once answered me in the affirmative. “ ‘No doubt you are the gentleman he was expecting,’ they said. ‘He has been waiting for a gentleman for two days.’ “ ‘Where is he now?’ I asked. “ *He is upstairs in bed. He wished to be called at nine.’ “It seemed to me that my sudden appearance might shake his nerves and lead him to say something unguarded. The Boots volunteered to show me the room; it was on the second floor, and there was a small corridor leading up to it. The Boots pointed out the door to me, and was about to go downstairs again, when I saw something that made me feel sickish, in spite of my twenty years’ experience. From under the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandeivd across the passage and jiSrmcd a little pool along the skirting of the other side. I gave a cry, which brought the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it. The -door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it and knocked it in. The window of the ■room was open, and beside the window, all huddled up, lay the body of a man his night-dress. He was quite dead, and had been for some time, for his limbs were rigid and cold. When we turned him •over, the Boots recognized him at once as being the same gentleman who had engaged the room under the name of Joseph Stangerson. T£e cause of death was a deep stab in the left side, which must have penetrated the heart. Aud now comes the strangest part of the affair. "What, do you suppose was above the murdered man?” T felt a creeping of flesh and a presentiment of coming horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered. “The word IRache’ written in letters of blood," he said. “That was it,” said Lestrade, in ma awe-struck voice; aud we were Mil silent for a while. There was something so methodical and incomprehensible about the deeds of this unknown asassin, that it imparted a fresh ghastliness to bis crimes. Mv nerves, which were' •teady enough on the field of battle, tangled as l thought of it. “The man was seen,” continued Xeetrade. “A milk-boy, passing on bis way to the dairy, happened to walk down the lane which leads from the mews at the back of the hotel, fie noticed that a ladder, which usually lay there, was raised against «ae of <be windows of the second floor, which was wide open. After aassing he looked buck and saw a Oban descend the ladder. He came (

down so quietly and openly that the boy imagined him to be some carpenter or joiner at work in the hotel. He took no particular notice of him, beyond thinking in his own mind that it was early for him to be at work. He has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish face, and was dressed in a long, brownish coat. He must have stayed in the room some little .time after the murder, for we found blood-stained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks on the sheets where- he had deliberately wiped his knife.” I glanced at Holmes on hearing the description of the murderer, which tallied—fle—-exactly with h.is own. There was, however, no trace of exultation or satisfaction upon his face. “Did you find nothing in the room which could furnish a clew to the murderer?” he asked. “Nothing. Stangerson had Drebber’s purse in his pocket, but it seems that this was usual, as he did all the paying. There was eighty odd pounds in it, but nothing had been taken. Whatever the motives of these extraordinary crimes, robbery is certainlv not one of them. There were jio papers or memoranda in the murdered man’s pocket, except a single telegram, dated from Cleveland about a month ago, and containing the words, ‘J. H. is in There was no name appended to this message.” “And there was nothing else?” “Nothing of any importance. The man’s novel, with which he had read himself to sleep, was lying upon the bed, and his pipe was upon a chair beside him. There was a glass of water on the table, and on the window sill a small chip ointment box containing a couple of pills.” Sherlock Holmes sprang from his chair with an exclamation of delight. “The last link!" he cried, exultantly. “My case is complete." The two detectives stared at him in amazement. “I have now in my hands,” my companion said, confidently, “all the threads which have formed such a tangle. There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts, frojn the time that Drebber parted from Stangerson at the station, up to the discovery of the body of the latter, as if I had seen them with my own eyes. I will giveyou a proof of my knowledge. Could you lay your hand upon those pills? ’’ “I have them, ” said Lestrade, producing a small white box; “I took them and the purse and the telegram, intending to have them put in a place'of safety at the police station. It was the merest chance my taking these pills, for I am bound to say that I do not attach any importance to them.” ' “Give them here,” said Holmes. “Now. doctor,” turning to me, “are those ordinary pills?” They certainly were not. They were of a pearly gray color, small, round, and almost transparent, against the light. “From their lightness and transparency, I should imagine that they are soluble in water,” I remarked. “Precisely so,” answered Holmes. “Now would you mind going down and fetching that poor little devil of a terrier which has been bad so long, and which the landlady wanted you to put out of its pain yesterday?” I went downstairs and carried the dog uftfetairs in my arms. Its labored breathing and glazing eye showed that it was not far from its end. Indeed, its snow-white muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual term of canine existence. I placed it upon a cushion on the rug. “I will now cut one of these pills in two," said Holmes, and drawing his penknife, he suited the action to ! the word. “One-half we return into I the box for future purposes. The j other half I wilkplace in this wine- ! glass, in which is a teaspoonful of | water. You perceive that our i friend, the doctor, is right, and that | it readilv dissolves.” “This may be very interesting,” i said Lestrade, in the injured tone of one who suspects that he is being laughed at. “I cannot see, however, what it has to do with the death of Mr. Joseph StangersoD.” “Patience, my friend, patience! You will find in time that it has everything to do with it. I shall now add a little milk to make the | mixture palatable, and on present- ! ing it to the dog we find that he laps it up readily enough.” As he spoke he turned the contents of the wine-glass into a saucer and placed it in front of the terrier, who speedily licked it dry. Sherlock Holmes’s earnest demeanor had so far convinced us that we all sat in watching the animal intently, and expecting some startling effect. None such appeared, however. The dog continued to lie stretched upon the cushion, breathing in a labored way, but apparently neither the better nor the worse for its draught. Holmes had taken out his watch, and as minute followed minute without result, an explosion of the utmost chagrin and disappointment appeared upoa his feature*. He

gnawed his lip, drummed upon the table, and showed every other symptom of acute impatience. So great was his emotion that I felt sincerely sorry for him, while the two detectives smiled derisively, by no means displeased at this check which he had met. “It can’t be a coincidence,” he cried, at last springing from his chair and pacing wildly up and down the room; “it is impossible that it should be a mere coincidence. The very pills which I suspected in the case of Drebber are actually found after the death of Stangerson. And yet they are inert. What can it mean? Surety my whole chain of reasoning cannot have been false. It is impossible! And yet this wretched dog is none the worse. Ah, I have it! I have it!” With a perfect shriek of delight he rushed to the box, cut the other pill in two, dissolved it, added milk, and presented it to the terrier. The unfortunate creature’s tongue seemed hardly to have been moistened in it before it gave a convulsive shudder in every limb and lay as rigid and as lifeless as if it had been struck by lightning. ... .„ Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I should have more faith,” he said; ‘‘l ought to know by ’this time that when a fact appears to be opposed to a long train of deductions it invaribly proves to be capable of bearing some other interpretation. Of the two pills in that box one was the most deadly poison and the other was entirely harmless. I ought to have known that before I ever saw the box at all.” This last statement appeared to me to be so startling that I could hardly believe he was in his sober senses. There was the dead dog, however, to prove that his conjecture had been correct. It seemed to me that the mists in my own mind were gradually clearing away and I began to have a dim, vague perception of the truth.

“All this seems strange to you,” continued Holmes, “because you failed at the beginning of the inquiry to grasp the importance of the single real clew which was presented to you. I had the good fortune to seize upon that, and everything which has occurred since then has served to confirm my original supposition, and, indeed, was the logical sequence of it. Hence things which have perplexed you and made" the case more obscure have served to enlighten me and strengthen my convictions. It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery. The most commonplace crime is often the most mysterious because it presents no new or special features from which deductions may be drawn. This murder would have been infinitely more difficult to unravel had the body of the victim been simply found lying in the roadway without any of those outre and sensational accompaniments which have rendered it remarkable. These strange details, far from making the case more difficult, have really had the effect of making it-less so.” Mr. Gregson, who had listened to this address with considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer. “Look here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he said, “we are all ready to acknowledge that you are a smart man, and that you have your own methods of working. We want something more than mere theory aud preaching now, though. Tt is a case of taking a man. I have made my case out aud it seems I was wrong. Young Charpentier could not have been engaged in this second affair. Lestrade went after this man Stangerson, and it appears that he was wrong, too. You have thrown out hints here and hints there, and seem to know more than we do, but the time has come when we feel that we have a right to ask you straight howmuch you do know of this business. Can you name the man who did it?” “I cannot but feel that Gregson is right, sir,” remarked Lestrade. “We have both tried, and we have both failed. You have remarked more than once since I have been in the room that you have all the evidence which you require. Surely you will not withhold it any longer." “Any delay in arresting the assas-' sin,” I observed, “must give him time to perpetrate some fresh atrocity.” Thus pressed by us all, showed signs of irresolution. He continued to walk up and down the room wit-l\ his head sunk on his chest and his brows drawn down, as was his habit when lost in thought. “There will be no more murders,” he said, at last, stopping abruptly stud facing us. “You can put that consideration out of the question. You have asked me if I know the name of the assassin. 1 do. The mere knowing of his name is a small thing, however, compared with the power of laying our hands upon him. This I expect very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements; but it is a thing which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man tfFoeal with, who is supported, as I hftve had occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as himself. As long as this man has no idea that any one can have a clew, there is some chance of securing him; but if he had the slightest suspicion, he would change his name, and vanish ip an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city. Without meaning to hurt any of your feelings, I am bound to say that I consider either of these men to be more than a match for the official force, and that is why I have not asked your assistance. If I fail I shall at course iacur all the blame

due to this omission; but that I am prepared for. At present lam to promise that the instanl without endangering my own combinations, I shall do so.” Gregson and Lestrade seemed tc be far from satisfied by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the detective police. The former had flushed up to the roots of hia flaxen hair, while the other’s beady eyes glistened with curiosity and resentment. Neither of them had time to speak, however, before there was a tap at the door and the spokesman of the street arabs, young Wiggins, introduced 1 his insignificant and urd savory person. “Please, sir,” he said, touching his forelock, “I have the cab downstairs." “Good boy,” said Holmes, blandly. “Why don’t you introduce this pa’t-i tern at Scotland Yard?” he continued, taking a pair of steel handcuffs from a drawer. “See how beauti-i fully the spring works. They fasten in an instant.” “The old pattern is good enough,”: remarked Lestaade, “if we can find the man to put them on.” “Very good, very good,” said Holmes, smiiing. “The cabman may as well help me with my boxes.; Just ask him to step up, Wiggins. ’’ I was surprised to find my com -> panion speaking as though he were about to-set out on a journey, since he had not said anything to me about it. There was a small portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out) and began to strap. He was busily engaged at it when the cabman entered the room. JiJu.st give me a help with this buckle, cabman,” he said, kneeling over his task, apd never turning his head. The fellow came forward with a; somewhat sullen, defiant air, and put] down his hands to assist. At that instant there was a sharp click, thej jangling of metal, and Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet again. “Gentlemen,” he cried, with flashing eyes, “let me introduce you to Mr. Jefferson Hope, the murderer of Enoch Drebber and Joseph Stanger > son.”

The whole thing occurred in a moment —so quickly that I had no time, to realize it. I have a vivid recol-i lection of that instant, of Holmes’s triumphant expression and the ring of his voice, of the cabman’s dazed j savage face, as he glared at the glit-j tering handcuffs, which had appeared as if by magic upon his wrists. Fop a second or two we might have beeq a group of statues. Then, with an, inarticulate roar of fury, the pris-; oner wrenched himself free from Holmes’s grasp, and hurled himseif through the window. Woodwork; and glass gave wav before him; but before he got quite through Gregson, Lestrade and Holmes sprang upon him like.so many stag-hounds. (to BE CONTINUED.!