643 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
643 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
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-----=====Earth's Dreamlands=====-----
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(313)558-5024 {14.4} (313)558-5517
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A BBS for text file junkies
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RPGNet GM File Archive Site
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.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
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The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire
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Holmes had read carefully a note which the last post had
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brought him. Then, with the dry chuckle which was his nearest
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approach to a laugh, he tossed it over to me.
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"For a mixture of the modern and the mediaeval, of the
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practical and of the wildly fanciful, I think this is surely the
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limit," said he. "What do you make of it, Watson?"
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I read as follows:
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46, OLD JEWRY,
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Nov. 19th.
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Re Vampires
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SIR:
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Our client, Mr. Robert Ferguson, of Ferguson and
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Muirhead, tea brokers, of Mincing Lane, has made some
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inquiry from us in a communication of even date concerning
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vampires. As our firm specializes entirely upon the as-
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sessment of machinery the matter hardly comes within our
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purview, and we have therefore recommended Mr. Fergu-
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son to call upon you and lay the matter before you. We
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have not forgotten your successful action in the case of
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Matilda Briggs.
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We are, sir,
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Faithfully yours,
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MORRISON, MORRISON, AND DODD.
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per E. J. C.
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"Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Wat-
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son," said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. "It was a ship which
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is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the
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world is not yet prepared. But what do we know about vampires?
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Does it come within our purview either? Anything is better than
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stagnation, but really we seem to have been switched on to a
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Grimms' fairy tale. Make a long arm, Watson, and see what V
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has to say."
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I leaned back and took down the great index volume to which
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he referred. Holmes balanced it on his knee, and his eyes moved
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slowly and lovingly over the record of old cases, mixed with the
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accumulated information of a lifetime.
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"Voyage of the Gloria Scott," he read. "That was a bad
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business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it,
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Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result.
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Victor Lynch, the forger. Venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable
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case, that! Vittoria, the circus belle. Vanderbilt and the Yegg-
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man. Vipers. Vigor, the Hammersmith wonder. Hullo! Hullo!
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Good old index. You can't beat it. Listen to this, Watson.
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Vampirism in Hungary. And again, Vampires in Transylvania."
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He turned over the pages with eagerness, but after a short
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intent perusal he threw down the great book with a snarl of disap-
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pointment.
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"Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking
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corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven
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through their hearts? It's pure lunacy."
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"But surely," said I, "the vampire was not necessarily a dead
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man? A living person might have the habit. I have read, for
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example, of the old sucking the blood of the young in order to
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retain their youth."
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"You are right, Watson. It mentions the legend in one of
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these references. But are we to give serious attention to such
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things? This agency stands flat-footed upon the ground, and
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there it must remain. The world is big enough for us. No ghosts
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need apply. I fear that we cannot take Mr. Robert Ferguson very
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seriously. Possibly this note may be from him and may throw
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some light upon what is worrying him."
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He took up a second letter which had lain unnoticed upon the
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table while he had been absorbed with the first. This he began to
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read with a smile of amusement upon his face which gradually
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faded away into an expression of intense interest and concentra-
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tion. When he had finished he sat for some little time lost in
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thought with the letter dangling from his fingers. Finally, with a
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start, he aroused himself from his reverie.
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"Cheeseman's, Lamberley. Where is Lamberley, Watson?"
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"lt is in Sussex, South of Horsham."
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"Not very far, eh? And Cheeseman's?"
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"I know that country, Holmes. It is full of old houses which
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are named after the men who built them centuries ago. You get
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Odley's and Harvey's and Carriton's -- the folk are forgotten but
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their names live in their houses."
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"Precisely," said Holmes coldly. It was one of the peculiari-
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ties of his proud, self-contained nature that though he docketed
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any fresh information very quietly and accurately in his brain, he
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seldom made any acknowledgment to the giver. "I rather fancy
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we shall know a good deal more about Cheeseman's, Lamberley,
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before we are through. The letter is, as I had hoped, from Robert
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Ferguson. By the way, he claims acquaintance with you."
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"With me!"
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"You had better read it."
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He handed the letter across. It was headed with the address
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quoted.
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DEAR MR HOLMES [it said]:
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I have been recommended to you by my lawyers, but
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indeed the matter is so extraordinarily delicate that it is most
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difficult to discuss. It concerns a friend for whom I am
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acting. This gentleman married some five years ago a Peruvian
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lady the daughter of a Peruvian merchant, whom he had
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met in connection with the importation of nitrates. The lady
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was very beautiful, but the fact of her foreign birth and of
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her alien religion always caused a separation of interests and
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of feelings between husband and wife, so that after a time
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his love may have cooled towards her and he may have
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come to regard their union as a mistake. He felt there were
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sides of her character which he could never explore or
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understand. This was the more painful as she was as loving
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a wife as a man could have -- to all appearance absolutely
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devoted.
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Now for the point which I will make more plain when we
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meet. Indeed, this note is merely to give you a general idea
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of the situation and to ascertain whether you would care to
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interest yourself in the matter. The lady began to show
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some curious traits quite alien to her ordinarily sweet and
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gentle disposition. The gentleman had been married twice
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and he had one son by the first wife. This boy was now
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fifteen, a very charming and affectionate youth, though
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unhappily injured through an accident in childhood. Twice
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the wife was caught in the act of assaulting this poor lad in
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the most unprovoked way. Once she struck him with a stick
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and left a great weal on his arm.
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This was a small matter, however, compared with her
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conduct to her own child, a dear boy just under one year of
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age. On one occasion about a month ago this child had
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been left by its nurse for a few minutes. A loud cry from the
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baby, as of pain, called the nurse back. As she ran into the
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room she saw her employer, the lady, leaning over the baby
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and apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in
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the neck from which a stream of blood had escaped. The
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nurse was so horrified that she wished to call the husband,
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but the lady implored her not to do so and actually gave her
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five pounds as a price for her silence. No explanation was
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ever given, and for the moment the matter was passed over.
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It left, however, a terrible impression upon the nurse's
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mind, and from that time she began to watch her mistress
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closely and to keep a closer guard upon the baby, whom she
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tenderly loved. It seemed to her that even as she watched
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the mother, so the mother watched her, and that every time
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she was compelled to leave the baby alone the mother was
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waiting to get at it. Day and night the nurse covered the
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child, and day and night the silent, watchful mother seemed
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to be lying in wait as a wolf waits for a lamb. It must read
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most incredible to you, and yet I beg you to take it seri-
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ously, for a child's life and a man's sanity may depend
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upon it.
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At last there came one dreadful day when the facts could
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no longer be concealed from the husband. The nurse's nerve
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had given way; she could stand the strain no longer, and
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she made a clean breast of it all to the man. To him it
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seemed as wild a tale as it may now seem to you.He knew
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his wife to be a loving wife, and, save for the assaults
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upon her stepson, a loving mother. Why, then, should
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she wound her own dear little baby? He told the nurse that
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she was dreaming, that her suspicions were those of a
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lunatic, and that such libels upon her mistress were not to be
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tolerated. While they were talking a sudden cry of pain was
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heard. Nurse and master rushed together to the nursery.
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Imagine his feelings, Mr. Holmes, as he saw his wife rise
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from a kneeling position beside the cot and saw blood upon
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the child's exposed neck and upon the sheet. With a cry of
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horror, he turned his wife's face to the light and saw blood
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all round her lips. It was she -- she beyond all question --
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who had drunk the poor baby's blood.
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So the matter stands. She is now confined to her room.
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There has been no explanation. The husband is half de-
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mented. He knows, and I know, little of vampirism beyond
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the name. We had thought it was some wild tale of foreign
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parts. And yet here in the very heart of the English Sussex --
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well, all this can be discussed with you in the morning. Will
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you see me? Will you use your great powers in aiding a
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distracted man? If so, kindly wire to Ferguson, Cheeseman's,
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Lamberley, and I will be at your rooms by ten o'clock.
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Yours faithfully,
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ROBERT FERGUSON.
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P. S. I believe your friend Watson played Rugby for
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Blackheath when I was three-quarter for Richmond. It is the
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only personal introduction which I can give.
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"Of course I remembered him," said I as I laid down the
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letter. "Big Bob Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond
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ever had. He was always a good-natured chap. It's like him to be
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so concerned over a friend's case."
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Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head.
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"I never get your limits, Watson," said he. "There are
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unexplored possibilities about you. Take a wire down, like a
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good fellow. 'Will examine your case with pleasure.' "
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"Your case!"
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"We must not let him think that this agency is a home for the
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weak-minded. Of course it is his case. Send him that wire and let
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the matter rest till morning."
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Promptly at ten o'clock next morning Ferguson strode into our
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room. I had remembered him as a long, slab-sided man with
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loose limbs and a fine turn of speed which had carried him round
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many an opposing back. There is surely nothing in life more
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painful than to meet the wreck of a fine athlete whom one has
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known in his prime. His great frame had fallen in, his flaxen hair
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was scanty, and his shoulders were bowed. I fear that I roused
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corresponding emotions in him.
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"Hullo, Watson," said he, and his voice was still deep and
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hearty. "You don't look quite the man you did when I threw you
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over the ropes into the crowd at the Old Deer Park. I expect I
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have changed a bit also. But it's this last day or two that has
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aged me. I see by your telegram, Mr. Holmes, that it is no use
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my pretending to be anyone's deputy." .
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"It is simpler to deal direct," said Holmes.
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"Of course it is. But you can imagine how difficult it is when
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you are speaking of the one woman whom you are bound to
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protect and help. What can I do? How am I to go to the police
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with such a story? And yet the kiddies have got to be protected.
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Is it madness, Mr. Holmes? Is it something in the blood? Have
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you any similar case in your experience? For God's sake, give
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me some advice, for I am at my wit's end."
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"Very naturally, Mr. Ferguson. Now sit here and pull your-
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self together and give me a few clear answers. I can assure you
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that I am very far from being at my wit's end, and that I am
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confident we shall find some solution. First of all, tell me what
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steps you have taken. Is your wife still near the children?"
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"We had a dreadful scene. She is a most loving woman, Mr.
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Holmes. If ever a woman loved a man with all her heart and
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soul, she loves me. She was cut to the heart that I should have
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discovered this horrible, this incredible, secret. She would not
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even speak. She gave no answer to my reproaches, save to gaze
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at me with a sort of wild, despairing look in her eyes. Then she
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rushed to her room and locked herself in. Since then she has
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refused to see me. She has a maid who was with her before her
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marriage, Dolores by name -- a friend rather than a servant. She
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takes her food to her."
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"Then the child is in no immediate danger?"
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"Mrs. Mason, the nurse, has sworn that she will not leave it
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night or day. I can absolutely trust her. I am more uneasy about
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poor little Jack, for, as I told you in my note, he has twice been
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assaulted by her."
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"But never wounded?"
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"No, she struck him savagely. It is the more terrible as he is a
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poor little inoffensive cripple." Ferguson's gaunt features soft-
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ened as he spoke of his boy. "You would think that the dear
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lad's condition would soften anyone's heart. A fall in childhood
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and a twisted spine, Mr. Holmes. But the dearest, most loving
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heart within."
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Holmes had picked up the letter of yesterday and was reading
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it over. "What other inmates are there in your house, Mr.
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Ferguson?"
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"Two servants who have not been long with us. One stable-
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hand, Michael, who sleeps in the house. My wife, myself, my
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boy Jack, baby, Dolores, and Mrs. Mason. That is all."
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"I gather that you did not know your wife well at the time of
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your marriage?"
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"I had only known her a few weeks."
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"How long had this maid Dolores been with her?"
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"Some years."
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"Then your wife's character would really be better known by
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Dolores than by you?"
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"Yes, you may say so."
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Holmes made a note.
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"I fancy," said he, "that I may be of more use at Lamberley
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than here. It is eminently a case for personal investigation. If the
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lady remains in her room, our presence could not annoy or
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inconvenience her. Of course, we would stay at the inn."
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Ferguson gave a gesture of relief.
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"It is what I hoped, Mr. Holmes. There is an excellent train at
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two from Victoria if you could come."
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"Of course we could come. There is a lull at present. I can
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give you my undivided energies. Watson, of course, comes with
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us. But there are one or two points upon which I wish to be very
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sure before I start. This unhappy lady, as I understand it, has
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appeared to assault both the children, her own baby and your
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little son?"
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"That is so."
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"But the assaults take different forms, do they not? She has
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beaten your son."
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"Once with a stick and once very savagely with her hands."
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"Did she give no explanation why she struck him?"
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"None save that she hated him. Again and again she said so."
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"Well, that is not unknown among stepmothers. A posthu-
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mous jealousy, we will say. Is the lady jealous by nature?"
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"Yes, she is very jealous -- jealous with all the strength of her
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fiery tropical love."
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"But the boy -- he is fifteen, I understand, and probably very
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developed in mind, since his body has been circumscribed in
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action. Did he give you no explanation of these assaults?"
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"No, he declared there was no reason."
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"Were they good friends at other times?"
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"No, there was never any love between them."
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"Yet you say he is affectionate?"
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"Never in the world could there be so devoted a son. My life is
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his life. He is absorbed in what I say or do."
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Once again Holmes made a note. For some time he sat lost in
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thought.
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"No doubt you and the boy were great comrades before this
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second marriage. You were thrown very close together, were
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you not?"
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"Very much so."
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"And the boy, having so affectionate a nature, was devoted,
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no doubt, to the memory of his mother?"
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"Most devoted."
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"He would certainly seem to be a most interesting lad. There
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is one other point about these assaults. Were the strange attacks
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upon the baby and the assaults upon yow son at the same
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period?"
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"In the first case it was so. It was as if some frenzy had seized
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her, and she had vented her rage upon both. In the second case it
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was only Jack who suffered. Mrs. Mason had no complaint to
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make about the baby."
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"That certainly complicates matters."
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"I don't quite follow you, Mr. Holmes."
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"Possibly not. One forms provisional theories and waits for
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time or fuller knowledge to explode them. A bad habit, Mr.
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Ferguson, but human nature is weak. I fear that your old friend
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here has given an exaggerated view of my scientific methods.
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However, I will only say at the present stage that your problem
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does not appear to me to be insoluble, and that you may expect
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to find us at Victoria at two o'clock."
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It was evening of a dull, foggy November day when, having
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left our bags at the Chequers, Lamberley, we drove through the
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Sussex clay of a long winding lane and finally reached the
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isolated and ancient farmhouse in which Ferguson dwelt. It was
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a large, straggling building, very old in the centre, very new at
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the wings with towering Tudor chimneys and a lichen-spotted,
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high-pitched roof of Horsham slabs. The doorsteps were worn
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into curves, and the ancient tiles which lined the porch were
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marked with the rebus of a cheese and a man after the original
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builder. Within, the ceilings were corrugated with heavy oaken
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beams, and the uneven floors sagged into sharp curves. An
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odour of age and decay pervaded the whole crumbling building.
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There was one very large central room into which Ferguson
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led us. Here, in a huge old-fashioned fireplace with an iron
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screen behind it dated 1670, there blazed and spluttered a splen-
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did log fire.
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The room, as I gazed round, was a most singular mixture of
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dates and of places. The half-panelled walls may well have
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belonged to the original yeoman farmer of the seventeenth cen-
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tury. They were ornamented, however, on the lower part by a
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line of well-chosen modern water-colours; while above, where
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yellow plaster took the place of oak, there was hung a fine
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collection of South American utensils and weapons, which had
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been brought, no doubt, by the Peruvian lady upstairs. Holmes
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rose, with that quick curiosity which sprang from his eager
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mind, and examined them with some care. He returned with his
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eyes full of thought.
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"Hullo!" he cried. "Hullo!"
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A spaniel had lain in a basket in the corner. It came slowly
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forward towards its master, walking with difficulty. Its hind legs
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moved irregularly and its tail was on the ground. It licked
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Ferguson's hand.
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"What is it, Mr. Holmes?"
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"The dog. What's the matter with it?"
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"That's what puzzled the vet. A sort of paralysis. Spinal
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meningitis, he thought. But it is passing. He'll be all right
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soon -- won't you, Carlo?"
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A shiver of assent passed through the drooping tail. The dog's
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mournful eyes passed from one of us to the other. He knew that
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we were discussing his case.
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"Did it come on suddenly?"
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"In a single night."
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"How long ago?"
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"It may have been four months ago."
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"Very remarkable. Very suggestive."
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"What do you see in it, Mr. Holmes?"
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"A confirmation of what I had already thought."
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"For God's sake, what do you think, Mr. Holmes? It may be
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a mere intellectual puzzle to you, but it is life and death to me!
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My wife a would-be murderer -- my child in constant danger!
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Don't play with me, Mr. Holmes. It is too terribly serious."
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The big Rugby three-quarter was trembling all over. Holmes
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put his hand soothingly upon his arm.
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"I fear that there is pain for you, Mr. Ferguson, whatever the
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solution may be," said he. "I would spare you all I can. I
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cannot say more for the instant, but before I leave this house I
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hope I may have something definite."
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"Please God you may! If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I
|
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will go up to my wife's room and see if there has been any
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change."
|
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He was away some minutes, during which Holmes resumed
|
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his examination of the curiosities upon the wall. When our host
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returned it was clear from his downcast face that he had made no
|
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progress. He brought with him a tall, slim, brown-faced girl.
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"The tea is ready, Dolores," said Ferguson. "See that your
|
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mistress has everything she can wish."
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"She verra ill," cried the girl, looking with indignant eyes at
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her master. "She no ask for food. She verra ill. She need doctor.
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I frightened stay alone with her without doctor."
|
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Ferguson looked at me with a question in his eyes.
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"I should be so glad if I could be of use."
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"Would your mistress see Dr. Watson?"
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"I take him. I no ask leave. She needs doctor."
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"Then I'll come with you at once."
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I followed the girl, who was quivering with strong emotion,
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up the staircase and down an ancient corridor. At the end was an
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iron-clamped and massive door. It struck me as I looked at it that
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if Ferguson tried to force his way to his wife he would find it no
|
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easy matter. The girl drew a key from her pocket, and the heavy
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oaken planks creaked upon their old hinges. I passed in and she
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swiftly followed, fastening the door behind her.
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On the bed a woman was lying who was clearly in a high
|
||
fever. She was only half conscious, but as I entered she raised a
|
||
pair of frightened but beautiful eyes and glared at me in appre-
|
||
hension. Seeing a stranger, she appeared to be relieved and sank
|
||
back with a sigh upon the pillow. I stepped up to her with a few
|
||
reassuring words, and she lay still while I took her pulse and
|
||
temperature. Both were high, and yet my impression was that the
|
||
condition was rather that of mental and nervous excitement than
|
||
of any actual seizure.
|
||
"She lie like that one day, two day. I 'fraid she die," said the
|
||
girl.
|
||
The woman turned her flushed and handsome face towards
|
||
me.
|
||
"Where is my husband?"
|
||
"He is below and would wish to see you."
|
||
"I will not see him. I will not see him." Then she seemed to
|
||
wander off into delirium. "A fiend! A fiend! Oh, what shall I do
|
||
with this devil?"
|
||
"Can I help you in any way?"
|
||
"No. No one can help. It is finished. All is destroyed. Do
|
||
what I will, all is destroyed."
|
||
The woman must have some strange delusion. I could not see
|
||
honest Bob Ferguson in the character of fiend or devil.
|
||
"Madame," I said, "your husband loves you dearly. He is
|
||
deeply grieved at this happening."
|
||
Again she turned on me those glorious eyes.
|
||
"He loves me. Yes. But do I not love him? Do I not love him
|
||
even to sacrifice myself rather than break his dear heart? That is
|
||
how I love him. And yet he could think of me -- he could speak
|
||
of me so."
|
||
"He is full of grief, but he cannot understand."
|
||
"No, he cannot understand. But he should trust."
|
||
"Will you not see him?" I suggested.
|
||
"No, no, I cannot forget those terrible words nor the look
|
||
upon his face. I will not see him. Go now. You can do nothing
|
||
for me. Tell him only one thing. I want my child. I have a right
|
||
to my child. That is the only message I can send him." She
|
||
turned her face to the wall and would say no more.
|
||
I returned to the room downstairs, where Ferguson and Holmes
|
||
still sat by the fire. Ferguson listened moodily to my account of
|
||
the interview.
|
||
"How can I send her the child?" he said. "How do I know
|
||
what strange impulse might come upon her? How can I ever
|
||
forget how she rose from beside it with its blood upon her lips?"
|
||
He shuddered at the recollection. "The child is safe with Mrs.
|
||
Mason, and there he must remain."
|
||
A smart maid, the only modern thing which we had seen in
|
||
the house, had brought in some tea. As she was serving it the
|
||
door opened and a youth entered the room. He was a remarkable
|
||
lad, pale-faced and fair-haired, with excitable light blue eyes
|
||
which blazed into a sudden flame of emotion and joy as they
|
||
rested upon his father. He rushed forward and threw his arms
|
||
round his neck with the abandon of a loving girl.
|
||
"Oh, daddy," he cried, "I did not know that you were due
|
||
yet. I should have been here to meet you. Oh, I am so glad to
|
||
see you!"
|
||
Ferguson gently disengaged himself from the embrace with
|
||
some little show of embarrassment.
|
||
"Dear old chap," said he, patting the flaxen head with a very
|
||
tender hand. "I came early because my friends, Mr. Holmes and
|
||
Dr. Watson, have been persuaded to come down and spend an
|
||
evening with us."
|
||
"Is that Mr. Holmes, the detective?"
|
||
"Yes."
|
||
The youth looked at us with a very penetrating and, as it
|
||
seemed to me, unfriendly gaze.
|
||
"What about your other child, Mr. Ferguson?" asked Holmes.
|
||
"Might we make the acquaintance of the baby?"
|
||
"Ask Mrs. Mason to bring baby down," said Ferguson. The
|
||
boy went off with a curious, shambling gait which told my
|
||
surgical eyes that he was suffering from a weak spine. Presently
|
||
he returned, and behind him came a tall, gaunt woman bearing in
|
||
her arms a very beautiful child, dark-eyed, golden-haired, a
|
||
wonderful mixture of the Saxon and the Latin. Ferguson was
|
||
evidently devoted to it, for he took it into his arms and fondled it
|
||
most tenderly.
|
||
"Fancy anyone having the heart to hurt him," he muttered as
|
||
he glanced down at the small, angry red pucker upon the cherub
|
||
throat.
|
||
It was at this moment that I chanced to glance at Holmes and
|
||
saw a most singular intentness in his expression. His face was as
|
||
set as if it had been carved out of old ivory, and his eyes, which
|
||
had glanced for a moment at father and child, were now fixed
|
||
with eager curiosity upon something at the other side of the
|
||
room. Following his gaze I could only guess that he was looking
|
||
out through the window at the melancholy, dripping garden. It is
|
||
true that a shutter had half closed outside and obstructed the
|
||
view, but none the less it was certainly at the window that
|
||
Holmes was fixing his concentrated attention. Then he smiled,
|
||
and his eyes came back to the baby. On its chubby neck there
|
||
was this small puckered mark. Without speaking, Holmes exam-
|
||
ined it with care. Finally he shook one of the dimpled fists which
|
||
waved in front of him.
|
||
"Good-bye, little man. You have made a strange start in life.
|
||
Nurse, I should wish to have a word with you in private."
|
||
He took her aside and spoke earnestly for a few minutes. I
|
||
only heard the last words, which were: "Your anxiety will soon,
|
||
I hope, be set at rest." The woman, who seemed to be a sour,
|
||
silent kind of creature, withdrew with the child.
|
||
"What is Mrs. Mason like?" asked Holmes.
|
||
"Not very prepossessing externally, as you can see, but a
|
||
heart of gold, and devoted to the child."
|
||
"Do you like her, Jack?" Holmes turned suddenly upon the
|
||
boy. His expressive mobile face shadowed over, and he shook
|
||
his head.
|
||
"Jacky has very strong likes and dislikes," said Ferguson,
|
||
putting his arm round the boy. "Luckily I am one of his likes."
|
||
The boy cooed and nestled his head upon his father's breast.
|
||
Ferguson gently disengaged him.
|
||
"Run away, little Jacky," said he, and he watched his son
|
||
with loving eyes until he disappeared. "Now, Mr. Holmes," he
|
||
continued when the boy was gone, "I really feel that I have
|
||
brought you on a fool's errand, for what can you possibly do
|
||
save give me your sympathy? It must be an exceedingly delicate
|
||
and complex affair from your point of view."
|
||
"It is certainly delicate," said my friend with an amused
|
||
smile, "but I have not been struck up to now with its complex-
|
||
ity. It has been a case for intellectual deduction, but when this
|
||
original intellectual deduction is confirmed point by point by
|
||
quite a number of independent incidents, then the subjective
|
||
becomes objective and we can say confidently that we have
|
||
reached our goal. I had, in fact, reached it before we left Baker
|
||
Street, and the rest has merely been observation and confirmation."
|
||
Ferguson put his big hand to his furrowed forehead.
|
||
"For heaven's sake, Holmes," he said hoarsely; "if you can
|
||
see the truth in this matter, do not keep me in suspense. How do
|
||
I stand? What shall I do? I care nothing as to how you have
|
||
found your facts so long as you have really got them."
|
||
"Certainly I owe you an explanation, and you shall have it.
|
||
But you will permit me to handle the matter in my own way? Is
|
||
the lady capable of seeing us, Watson?"
|
||
"She is ill, but she is quite rational."
|
||
"Very good. It is only in her presence that we can clear the
|
||
matter up. Let us go up to her."
|
||
"She will not see me," cried Ferguson.
|
||
"Oh, yes, she will," said Holmes. He scribbled a few lines
|
||
upon a sheet of paper."You at least have the entree, Watson.
|
||
Will you have the goodness to give the lady this note?"
|
||
I ascended again and handed the note to Dolores, who cau-
|
||
tiously opened the door. A minute later I heard a cry from
|
||
within, a cry in which joy and surprise seemed to be blended.
|
||
Dolores looked out.
|
||
"She will see them. She will leesten," said she.
|
||
At my summons Ferguson and Holmes came up. As we
|
||
entered the room Ferguson took a step or two towards his wife,
|
||
who had raised herself in the bed, but she held out her hand to
|
||
repulse him. He sank into an armchair, while Holmes seated
|
||
himself beside him, after bowing to the lady, who looked at him
|
||
with wide-eyed amazement.
|
||
"I think we can dispense with Dolores," said Holmes. "Oh,
|
||
very well, madame, if you would rather she stayed I can see no
|
||
objection. Now, Mr. Ferguson, I am a busy man wlth many
|
||
calls, and my methods have to be short and direct. The swiftest
|
||
surgery is the least painful. Let me first say what will ease your
|
||
mind. Your wife is a very good, a very loving, and a very
|
||
ill-used woman."
|
||
Ferguson sat up with a cry of joy.
|
||
"Prove that, Mr. Holmes, and I am your debtor forever."
|
||
"I will do so, but in doing so I must wound you deeply in
|
||
another direction."
|
||
"I care nothing so long as you clear my wife. Everything on
|
||
earth is insignificant compared to that."
|
||
"Let me tell you, then, the train of reasoning which passed
|
||
through my mind in Baker Street. The idea of a vampire was to
|
||
me absurd. Such things do not happen in criminal practice in
|
||
England. And yet your observation was precise. You had seen
|
||
the lady rise from beside the child's cot with the blood upon her
|
||
lips."
|
||
"I did."
|
||
"Did it not occur to you that a bleeding wound may be sucked
|
||
for some other purpose than to draw the blood from it? Was
|
||
there not a queen in English history who sucked such a wound to
|
||
draw poison from it?"
|
||
"Poison!"
|
||
"A South American household. My instinct felt the presence
|
||
of those weapons upon the wall before my eyes ever saw them.
|
||
It might have been other poison, but that was what occurred to
|
||
me. When I saw that little empty quiver beside the small bird-
|
||
bow, it was just what I expected to see. If the child were pricked
|
||
with one of those arrows dipped in curare or some other devilish
|
||
drug, it would mean death if the venom were not sucked out.
|
||
"And the dog! If one were to use such a poison, would one not
|
||
try it first in order to see that it had not lost its power? I did not
|
||
foresee the dog, but at least I understand him and he fitted into
|
||
my reconstruction.
|
||
"Now do you understand? Your wife feared such an attack.
|
||
She saw it made and saved the child's life, and yet she shrank
|
||
from telling you all the truth, for she knew how you loved the
|
||
boy and feared lest it break your heart."
|
||
"Jacky!"
|
||
"I watched him as you fondled the child just now. His face
|
||
was clearly reflected in the glass of the window where the shutter
|
||
formed a background. I saw such jealousy, such cruel hatred, as
|
||
I have seldom seen in a human face."
|
||
"My Jacky!"
|
||
"You have to face it, Mr. Ferguson. It is the more painful
|
||
because it is a distorted love, a maniacal exaggerated love for
|
||
you, and possibly for his dead mother, which has prompted his
|
||
action. His very soul is consumed with hatred for this splendid
|
||
child, whose health and beauty are a contrast to his own
|
||
weakness."
|
||
"Good God! It is incredible!"
|
||
"Have I spoken the truth, madame?"
|
||
The lady was sobbing, with her face buried in the pillows.
|
||
Now she turned to her husband.
|
||
"How could I tell you, Bob? I felt the blow it would be to
|
||
you. It was better that I should wait and that it should come from
|
||
some other lips than mine. When this gentleman, who seems to
|
||
have powers of magic, wrote that he knew all, I was glad."
|
||
"I think a year at sea would be my prescription for Master
|
||
Jacky," said Holmes, rising from his chair. "Only one thing is
|
||
still clouded, madame. We can quite understand your attacks
|
||
upon Master Jacky. There is a limit to a mother's patience. But
|
||
how did you dare to leave the child these last two days?"
|
||
"I had told Mrs. Mason. She knew."
|
||
"Exactly. So I imagined."
|
||
Ferguson was standing by the bed, choking, his hands out-
|
||
stretched and quivering.
|
||
"This, I fancy, is the time for our exit, Watson," said Holmes
|
||
in a whisper. "If you will take one elbow of the too faithful
|
||
Dolores, I will take the other. There, now," he added as he
|
||
closed the door behind him, "I think we may leave them to settle
|
||
the rest among themselves."
|
||
I have only one further note of this case. It is the letter which
|
||
Holmes wrote in final answer to that with which the narrative
|
||
begins. It ran thus:
|
||
|
||
BAKER STREET,
|
||
Nov. 21st.
|
||
|
||
Re Vampires
|
||
|
||
SIR:
|
||
Referring to your letter of the 19th, I beg to state that I
|
||
have looked into the inquiry of your client, Mr. Robert
|
||
Ferguson, of Ferguson and Muirhead, tea brokers, of Minc-
|
||
ing Lane, and that the matter has been brought to a satisfac-
|
||
tory conclusion. With thanks for your recommendation, I
|
||
am, sir,
|
||
Faithfully yours,
|
||
SHERLOCK HOLMES.
|
||
|