His Last Bow by Arthur Conan Doyle (good books to read in english .txt) 📕

“I did not wish her to tell me anything. I only wanted to look

at her. However, I think that I have got all that I want. Drive

us to some decent hotel, cabby, where we may have some lunch, and

afterwards we shall drop down upon friend Lestrade at the police-station.”

We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmes would

talk about nothing but violins, narrating with great exultation

how he had purchased his own Stradivarius, which was worth at

least five hundred guineas, at a Jew broker’s in Tottenham Court

Road for fifty-five shillings. This led him to Paganini, and we

sat for an hour over a bottle of claret while he told me anecdote

after anecdote of that extraordinary man. The afternoon was far

advanced and the hot glare had softened into a mellow glow before

we found ourselves at the police-station. Lestrade was waiting

for us at the door.

“A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes,” said he.

“Ha! It is the answer!” He tore it open, glanced his eyes over

it, and crumpled it into his pocket. “That’s all right,” said

he.

“Have you found out anything?”

“I have found out everything!”

“What!” Lestrade stared at him in amazement. “You are joking.”

“I was never more serious in my life. A shocking crime has been

committed, and I think I have now laid bare every detail of it.”

“And the criminal?”

Holmes scribbled a few words upon the back of one of his visiting

cards and threw it over to Lestrade.

“That is the name,” he said. “You cannot effect an arrest until

tomorrow night at the earliest. I should prefer that you do not

mention my name at all in connection with the case, as I choose

to be only associated with those crimes which present some

difficulty in their solution. Come on, Watson.” We strode off

together to the station, leaving Lestrade still staring with a

delighted face at the card which Holmes had thrown him.

“The case,” said Sherlock Holmes as we chatted over or cigars

that night in our rooms at Baker Street, “is one where, as in the

investigations which you have chronicled under the names of ‘A

Study in Scarlet’ and of ‘The Sign of Four,’ we have been

compelled to reason backward from effects to causes. I have

written to Lestrade asking him to supply us with the details

which are now wanting, and which he will only get after he had

secured his man. That he may be safely trusted to do, for

although he is absolutely devoid of reason, he is as tenacious as

a bulldog when he once understands what he has to do, and indeed,

it is just this tenacity which has brought him to the top at

Scotland Yard.”

“Your case is not complete, then?” I asked.

“It is fairly complete in essentials. We know who the author of

the revolting business is, although one of the victims still

escapes us. Of course, you have formed your own conclusions.”

“I presume that this Jim Browner, the steward of a Liverpool

boat, is the man whom you suspect?”

“Oh! it is more than a suspicion.”

“And yet I cannot see anything save very vague indications.”

“On the contrary, to my mind nothing could be more clear. Let me

run over the principal steps. We approached the case, you

remember, with an absolutely blank mind, which is always an

advantage. We had formed no theories. We were simply there to

observe and to draw inferences from our observations. What did

we see first? A very placid and respectable lady, who seemed

quite innocent of any secret, and a portrait which showed me that

she had two younger sisters. It instantly flashed across my mind

that the box might have been meant for one of these. I set the

idea aside as one which could be disproved or confirmed at our

leisure. Then we went to the garden, as you remember, and we saw

the very singular contents of the little yellow box.

“The string was of the quality which is used by sail-makers

aboard ship, and at once a whiff of the sea was perceptible in

our investigation. When I observed that the knot was one which

is popular with sailors, that the parcel had been posted at a

port, and that the male ear was pierced for an earring which is

so much more common among sailors than landsmen, I was quite

certain that all the actors in the tragedy were to be found among

our seafaring classes.

“When I came to examine the address of the packet I observed that

it was to Miss S. Cushing. Now, the oldest sister would, of

course, be Miss Cushing, and although her initial was ‘S’ it

might belong to one of the others as well. In that case we

should have to commence our investigation from a fresh basis

altogether. I therefore went into the house with the intention

of clearing up this point. I was about to assure Miss Cushing

that I was convinced that a mistake had been made when you may

remember that I came suddenly to a stop. The fact was that I had

just seen something which filled me with surprise and at the same

time narrowed the field of our inquiry immensely.

“As a medical man, you are aware, Watson, that there is no part

of the body which varies so much as the human ear. Each ear is

as a rule quite distinctive and differs from all other ones. In

last year’s Anthropological Journal you will find two short

monographs from my pen upon the subject. I had, therefore,

examined the ears in the box with the eyes of an expert and had

carefully noted their anatomical peculiarities. Imagine my

surprise, then, when on looking at Miss Cushing I perceived that

her ear corresponded exactly with the female ear which I had just

inspected. The matter was entirely beyond coincidence. There

was the same shortening of the pinna, the same broad curve of the

upper lobe, the same convolution of the inner cartilage. In all

essentials it was the same ear.

“In the first place, her sister’s name was Sarah, and her address

had until recently been the same, so that it was quite obvious

how the mistake had occurred and for whom the packet was meant.

Then we heard of this steward, married to the third sister, and

learned that he had at one time been so intimate with Miss Sarah

that she had actually gone up to Liverpool to be near the

Browners, but a quarrel had afterwards divided them. This

quarrel had put a stop to all communications for some months, so

that if Browner had occasion to address a packet to Miss Sarah,

he would undoubtedly have done so to her old address.

“And now the matter had begun to straighten itself out

wonderfully. We had learned of the existence of this steward, an

impulsive man, of strong passions—you remember that he threw up

what must have been a very superior berth in order to be nearer

to his wife—subject, too, to occasional fits of hard drinking.

We had reason to believe that his wife had been murdered, and

that a man—presumably a seafaring man—had been murdered at the

same time. Jealousy, of course, at once suggests itself as the

motive for the crime. And why should these proofs of the deed be

sent to Miss Sarah Cushing? Probably because during her

residence in Liverpool she had some hand in bringing about the

events which led to the tragedy. You will observe that this line

of boats call at Belfast, Dublin, and Waterford; so that,

presuming that Browner had committed the deed and had embarked at

once upon his steamer, the May Day, Belfast would be the first

place at which he cold post his terrible packet.

“A second solution was at this stage obviously possible, and

although I thought it exceedingly unlikely, I was determined to

elucidate it before going further. An unsuccessful lover might

have killed Mr. and Mrs. Browner, and the male ear might have

belonged to the husband. There were many grave objections to

this theory, but it was conceivable. I therefore sent off a

telegram to my friend Algar, of the Liverpool force, and asked

him to find our if Mrs. Browner were at home, and if Browner had

departed in the May Day. Then we went on to Wallington to visit

Miss Sarah.

“I was curious, in the first place, to see how far the family ear

had been reproduced in her. Then, of course, she might give us

very important information, but I was not sanguine that she

would. She must have heard of the business the day before, since

all Croydon was ringing with it, and she alone could have

understood for whom the packet was meant. If she had been

willing to help justice she would probably have communicated with

the police already. However, it was clearly our duty to see her,

so we went. We found that the news of the arrival of the packet-

-for her illness dated from that time—had such an effect upon

her as to bring on brain fever. It was clearer than ever that

she understood its full significance, but equally clear that we

should have to wait some time for any assistance from her.

“However, we were really independent of her help. Our answers

were waiting for us at the police-station, where I had directed

Algar to send them. Nothing could be more conclusive. Mrs.

Browner’s house had been closed for more than three days, and the

neighbours were of opinion that she had gone south to see her

relatives. It had been ascertained at the shipping offices that

Browner had left aboard of the May Day, and I calculate that she

is due in the Thames tomorrow night. When he arrives he will be

met by the obtuse but resolute Lestrade, and I have no doubt that

we shall have all our details filled in.”

Sherlock Holmes was not disappointed in his expectations. Two

days later he received a bulky envelope, which contained a short

note from the detective, and a typewritten document, which

covered several pages of foolscap.

“Lestrade has got him all right,” said Holmes, glancing up at me.

“Perhaps it would interest you to hear what he says.

“My dear Mr. Holmes:

In accordance with the scheme which we had formed in order to

test our theories” [“the ‘we’ is rather fine, Watson, is it

not?”] “I went down to the Albert Dock yesterday at 6 p.m., and

boarded the S.S. May Day, belonging to the Liverpool, Dublin, and

London Steam Packet Company. On inquiry, I found that there was

a steward on board of the name of James Browner and that he had

acted during the voyage in such an extraordinary manner that the

captain had been compelled to relieve him of his duties. On

descending to his berth, I found him seated upon a chest with his

head sunk upon his hands, rocking himself to and fro. He is a

big, powerful chap, clean-shaven, and very swarthy—something

like Aldrige, who helped us in the bogus laundry affair. He

jumped up when he heard my business, and I had my whistle to my

lips to call a couple of river police, who were round the corner,

but he seemed to have no heart in him, and he held out his hands

quietly enough for the darbies. We brought him along to the

cells, and his box as well, for we thought there might be

something incriminating; but, bar a big sharp knife such as most

sailors have, we got nothing for our