American library books ยป Fiction ยป The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (polar express read aloud .TXT) ๐Ÿ“•

Read book online ยซThe Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (polar express read aloud .TXT) ๐Ÿ“•ยป.   Author   -   Arthur Conan Doyle



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and waited to see what would come of it. When we got back to Scotland it was easily hushed up, and nobody asked any questions. A stranger died by accident and it was nobodyโ€™s business to inquire. Shortly after Peter Carey gave up the sea, and it was long years before I could find where he was. I guessed that he had done the deed for the sake of what was in that tin box, and that he could afford now to pay me well for keeping my mouth shut. I found out where he was through a sailor man that had met him in London, and down I went to squeeze him. The first night he was reasonable enough, and was ready to give me what would make me free of the sea for life. We were to fix it all two nights later. When I came, I found him three parts drunk and in a vile temper. We sat down and we drank and we yarned about old times, but the more he drank the less I liked the look on his face. I spotted that harpoon upon the wall, and I thought I might need it before I was through. Then at last he broke out at me, spitting and cursing, with murder in his eyes and a great clasp-knife in his hand. He had not time to get it from the sheath before I had the harpoon through him. Heavens! what a yell he gave! and his face gets between me and my sleep. I stood there, with his blood splashing round me, and I waited for a bit, but all was quiet, so I took heart once more. I looked round, and there was the tin box on the shelf. I had as much right to it as Peter Carey, anyhow, so I took it with me and left the hut. Like a fool I left my baccy-pouch upon the table.

โ€œNow Iโ€™ll tell you the queerest part of the whole story. I had hardly got outside the hut when I heard someone coming, and I hid among the bushes. A man came slinking along, went into the hut, gave a cry as if he had seen a ghost, and legged it as hard as he could run until he was out of sight. Who he was or what he wanted is more than I can tell. For my part I walked ten miles, got a train at Tunbridge Wells, and so reached London, and no one the wiser.

โ€œWell, when I came to examine the box I found there was no money in it, and nothing but papers that I would not dare to sell. I had lost my hold on Black Peter and was stranded in London without a shilling. There was only my trade left. I saw these advertisements about harpooners, and high wages, so I went to the shipping agents, and they sent me here. Thatโ€™s all I know, and I say again that if I killed Black Peter, the law should give me thanks, for I saved them the price of a hempen rope.โ€

โ€œA very clear statement said Holmes,โ€ rising and lighting his pipe. โ€œI think, Hopkins, that you should lose no time in conveying your prisoner to a place of safety. This room is not well adapted for a cell, and Mr. Patrick Cairns occupies too large a proportion of our carpet.โ€

โ€œMr. Holmes,โ€ said Hopkins, โ€œI do not know how to express my gratitude. Even now I do not understand how you attained this result.โ€

โ€œSimply by having the good fortune to get the right clue from the beginning. It is very possible if I had known about this notebook it might have led away my thoughts, as it did yours. But all I heard pointed in the one direction. The amazing strength, the skill in the use of the harpoon, the rum and water, the sealskin tobacco-pouch with the coarse tobaccoโ€”all these pointed to a seaman, and one who had been a whaler. I was convinced that the initials โ€˜P.C.โ€™ upon the pouch were a coincidence, and not those of Peter Carey, since he seldom smoked, and no pipe was found in his cabin. You remember that I asked whether whisky and brandy were in the cabin. You said they were. How many landsmen are there who would drink rum when they could get these other spirits? Yes, I was certain it was a seaman.โ€

โ€œAnd how did you find him?โ€

โ€œMy dear sir, the problem had become a very simple one. If it were a seaman, it could only be a seaman who had been with him on the Sea Unicorn. So far as I could learn he had sailed in no other ship. I spent three days in wiring to Dundee, and at the end of that time I had ascertained the names of the crew of the Sea Unicorn in 1883. When I found Patrick Cairns among the harpooners, my research was nearing its end. I argued that the man was probably in London, and that he would desire to leave the country for a time. I therefore spent some days in the East End, devised an Arctic expedition, put forth tempting terms for harpooners who would serve under Captain Basilโ€”and behold the result!โ€

โ€œWonderful!โ€ cried Hopkins. โ€œWonderful!โ€

โ€œYou must obtain the release of young Neligan as soon as possible,โ€ said Holmes. โ€œI confess that I think you owe him some apology. The tin box must be returned to him, but, of course, the securities which Peter Carey has sold are lost forever. Thereโ€™s the cab, Hopkins, and you can remove your man. If you want me for the trial, my address and that of Watson will be somewhere in Norwayโ€”Iโ€™ll send particulars later.โ€

THE ADVENTURE OF CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON

It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public, but now the principal person concerned is beyond the reach of human law, and with due suppression the story may be told in such fashion as to injure no one. It records an absolutely unique experience in the career both of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and of myself. The reader will excuse me if I conceal the date or any other fact by which he might trace the actual occurrence.

We had been out for one of our evening rambles, Holmes and I, and had returned about six oโ€™clock on a cold, frosty winterโ€™s evening. As Holmes turned up the lamp the light fell upon a card on the table. He glanced at it, and then, with an ejaculation of disgust, threw it on the floor. I picked it up and read:

CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON,
Appledore Towers,
Hampstead.
Agent.

โ€œWho is he?โ€ I asked.

โ€œThe worst man in London,โ€ Holmes answered, as he sat down and stretched his legs before the fire. โ€œIs anything on the back of the card?โ€

I turned it over.

โ€œWill call at 6:30โ€”C.A.M.,โ€ I read.

โ€œHum! Heโ€™s about due. Do you feel a creeping, shrinking sensation, Watson, when you stand before the serpents in the Zoo, and see the slithery, gliding, venomous creatures, with their deadly eyes and wicked, flattened faces? Well, thatโ€™s how Milverton impresses me. Iโ€™ve had to do with fifty murderers in my career, but the worst of them never gave me the repulsion which I have for this fellow. And yet I canโ€™t get out of doing business with himโ€”indeed, he is here at my invitation.โ€

โ€œBut who is he?โ€

โ€œIโ€™ll tell you, Watson. He is the king of all the blackmailers. Heaven help

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