The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (polar express read aloud .TXT) ๐
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- Author: Arthur Conan Doyle
Read book online ยซThe Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (polar express read aloud .TXT) ๐ยป. Author - Arthur Conan Doyle
โIt was a joke, my good sirโa practical joke, nothing more,โ he whined incessantly. โI assure you, sir, that I simply concealed myself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane.โ
โThatโs for a jury to decide,โ said Lestrade. โAnyhow, we shall have you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder.โ
โAnd youโll probably find that your creditors will impound the banking account of Mr. Cornelius,โ said Holmes.
The little man started, and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.
โI have to thank you for a good deal,โ said he. โPerhaps Iโll pay my debt some day.โ
Holmes smiled indulgently.
โI fancy that, for some few years, you will find your time very fully occupied,โ said he. โBy the way, what was it you put into the wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You wonโt tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I daresay that a couple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn.โ
Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long, thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing a particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his breast, and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with dull grey plumage and a black top-knot.
โSo, Watson,โ said he, suddenly, โyou do not propose to invest in South African securities?โ
I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmesโs curious faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimate thoughts was utterly inexplicable.
โHow on earth do you know that?โ I asked.
He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in his hand, and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.
โNow, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback,โ said he.
โI am.โ
โI ought to make you sign a paper to that effect.โ
โWhy?โ
โBecause in five minutes you will say that it is all so absurdly simple.โ
โI am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind.โ
โYou see, my dear Watson,โโhe propped his test-tube in the rack, and began to lecture with the air of a professor addressing his classโโit is not really difficult to construct a series of inferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simple in itself. If, after doing so, one simply knocks out all the central inferences and presents oneโs audience with the starting-point and the conclusion, one may produce a startling, though possibly a meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult, by an inspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb, to feel sure that you did not propose to invest your small capital in the gold fields.โ
โI see no connection.โ
โVery likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk between your left finger and thumb when you returned from the club last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards, to steady the cue. 3. You never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You told me, four weeks ago, that Thurston had an option on some South African property which would expire in a month, and which he desired you to share with him. 5. Your check book is locked in my drawer, and you have not asked for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner.โ
โHow absurdly simple!โ I cried.
โQuite so!โ said he, a little nettled. โEvery problem becomes very childish when once it is explained to you. Here is an unexplained one. See what you can make of that, friend Watson.โ He tossed a sheet of paper upon the table, and turned once more to his chemical analysis.
I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.
โWhy, Holmes, it is a childโs drawing,โ I cried.
โOh, thatโs your idea!โ
โWhat else should it be?โ
โThat is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, is very anxious to know. This little conundrum came by the first post, and he was to follow by the next train. Thereโs a ring at the bell, Watson. I should not be very much surprised if this were he.โ
A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later there entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman, whose clear eyes and florid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of Baker Street. He seemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast air with him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, he was about to sit down, when his eye rested upon the paper with the curious markings, which I had just examined and left upon the table.
โWell, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?โ he cried. โThey told me that you were fond of queer mysteries, and I donโt think you can find a queerer one than that. I sent the paper on ahead, so that you might have time to study it before I came.โ
โIt is certainly rather a curious production,โ said Holmes. โAt first sight it would appear to be some childish prank. It consists of a number of absurd little figures dancing across the paper upon which they are drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so grotesque an object?โ
โI never should, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her to death. She says nothing, but I can see terror in her eyes. Thatโs why I want to sift the matter to the bottom.โ
Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was a page torn from a notebook. The markings were done in pencil, and ran in this way:
Holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it carefully up, he placed it in his pocketbook.
โThis promises to be a most interesting and unusual case,โ said he. โYou gave me a few particulars in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I should be very much obliged if you would kindly go over it all again for the benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson.โ
โIโm not much of a story-teller,โ said our visitor, nervously clasping and unclasping his great, strong hands. โYouโll just ask me anything that I donโt make clear. Iโll begin at the time of my marriage last year, but I
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