held up one splinter, in which a round, dark object was fixed like a
plum in a pudding.
"Gentlemen," he cried, "let me introduce you to the famous black
pearl of the Borgias."
Lestrade and I sat silent for a moment, and then, with a spontaneous
impulse, we both broke out clapping as at the well-wrought crisis of
a play. A flush of colour sprang to Holmes's pale cheeks, and he
bowed to us like the master dramatist who receives the homage of his
audience. It was at such moments that for an instant he ceased to be
a reasoning machine, and betrayed his human love for admiration and
applause. The same singularly proud and reserved nature which turned
away with disdain from popular notoriety was capable of being moved
to its depths by spontaneous wonder and praise from a friend.
"Yes, gentlemen," said he, "it is the most famous pearl now existing
in the world, and it has been my good fortune, by a connected chain
of inductive reasoning, to trace it from the Prince of Colonna's
bedroom at the Dacre Hotel, where it was lost, to the interior of
this, the last of the six busts of Napoleon which were manufactured
by Gelder & Co., of Stepney. You will remember, Lestrade, the
sensation caused by the disappearance of this valuable jewel, and the
vain efforts of the London police to recover it. I was myself
consulted upon the case; but I was unable to throw any light upon it.
Suspicion fell upon the maid of the Princess, who was an Italian, and
it was proved that she had a brother in London, but we failed to
trace any connection between them. The maid's name was Lucretia
Venucci, and there is no doubt in my mind that this Pietro who was
murdered two nights ago was the brother. I have been looking up the
dates in the old files of the paper, and I find that the
disappearance of the pearl was exactly two days before the arrest of
Beppo for some crime of violence, an event which took place in the
factory of Gelder & Co., at the very moment when these busts were
being made. Now you clearly see the sequence of events, though you
see them, of course, in the inverse order to the way in which they
presented themselves to me. Beppo had the pearl in his possession. He
may have stolen it from Pietro, he may have been Pietro's
confederate, he may have been the go-between of Pietro and his
sister. It is of no consequence to us which is the correct solution.
"The main fact is that he had the pearl, and at that moment, when it
was on his person, he was pursued by the police. He made for the
factory in which he worked, and he knew that he had only a few
minutes in which to conceal this enormously valuable prize, which
would otherwise be found on him when he was searched. Six plaster
casts of Napoleon were drying in the passage. One of them was still
soft. In an instant Beppo, a skilful workman, made a small hole in
the wet plaster, dropped in the pearl, and with a few touches covered
over the aperture once more. It was an admirable hiding-place. No one
could possibly find it. But Beppo was condemned to a year's
imprisonment, and in the meanwhile his six busts were scattered over
London. He could not tell which contained his treasure. Only by
breaking them could he see. Even shaking would tell him nothing, for
as the plaster was wet it was probable that the pearl would adhere to
it--as, in fact, it has done. Beppo did not despair, and he conducted
his search with considerable ingenuity and perseverance. Through a
cousin who works with Gelder he found out the retail firms who had
bought the busts. He managed to find employment with Morse Hudson,
and in that way tracked down three of them. The pearl was not there.
Then, with the help of some Italian employe, he succeeded in finding
out where the other three busts had gone. The first was at Harker's.
There he was dogged by his confederate, who held Beppo responsible
for the loss of the pearl, and he stabbed him in the scuffle which
followed."
"If he was his confederate why should he carry his photograph?" I
asked.
"As a means of tracing him if he wished to inquire about him from any
third person. That was the obvious reason. Well, after the murder I
calculated that Beppo would probably hurry rather than delay his
movements. He would fear that the police would read his secret, and
so he hastened on before they should get ahead of him. Of course, I
could not say that he had not found the pearl in Harker's bust. I had
not even concluded for certain that it was the pearl; but it was
evident to me that he was looking for something, since he carried the
bust past the other houses in order to break it in the garden which
had a lamp overlooking it. Since Harker's bust was one in three the
chances were exactly as I told you, two to one against the pearl
being inside it. There remained two busts, and it was obvious that he
would go for the London one first. I warned the inmates of the house,
so as to avoid a second tragedy, and we went down with the happiest
results. By that time, of course, I knew for certain that it was the
Borgia pearl that we were after. The name of the murdered man linked
the one event with the other. There only remained a single bust--the
Reading one--and the pearl must be there. I bought it in your
presence from the owner--and there it lies."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," said Lestrade, "I've seen you handle a good many cases, Mr.
Holmes, but I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than
that. We're not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very
proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there's not a man, from
the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn't be glad
to shake you by the hand."
"Thank you!" said Holmes. "Thank you!" and as he turned away it
seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human
emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he was the cold and
practical thinker once more. "Put the pearl in the safe, Watson,"
said he, "and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forgery case.
Good-bye, Lestrade. If any little problem comes your way I shall be
happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE THREE STUDENTS
It was in the year '95 that a combination of events, into which I
need not enter, caused Mr. Sherlock Holmes and myself to spend some
weeks in one of our great University towns, and it was during this
time that the small but instructive adventure which I am about to
relate befell us. It will be obvious that any details which would
help the reader to exactly identify the college or the criminal would
be injudicious and offensive. So painful a scandal may well be
allowed to die out. With due discretion the incident itself may,
however, be described, since it serves to illustrate some of those
qualities for which my friend was remarkable. I will endeavour in my
statement to avoid such terms as would serve to limit the events to
any particular place, or give a clue as to the people concerned.
We were residing at the time in furnished lodgings close to a library
where Sherlock Holmes was pursuing some laborious researches in early
English charters--researches which led to results so striking that
they may be the subject of one of my future narratives. Here it was
that one evening we received a visit from an acquaintance, Mr. Hilton
Soames, tutor and lecturer at the College of St. Luke's. Mr. Soames
was a tall, spare man, of a nervous and excitable temperament. I had
always known him to be restless in his manner, but on this particular
occasion he was in such a state of uncontrollable agitation that it
was clear something very unusual had occurred.
"I trust, Mr. Holmes, that you can spare me a few hours of your
valuable time. We have had a very painful incident at St. Luke's, and
really, but for the happy chance of your being in the town, I should
have been at a loss what to do."
"I am very busy just now, and I desire no distractions," my friend
answered. "I should much prefer that you called in the aid of the
police."
"No, no, my dear sir; such a course is utterly impossible. When once
the law is evoked it cannot be stayed again, and this is just one of
those cases where, for the credit of the college, it is most
essential to avoid scandal. Your discretion is as well known as your
powers, and you are the one man in the world who can help me. I beg
you, Mr. Holmes, to do what you can."
My friend's temper had not improved since he had been deprived of the
congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his scrap-books, his
chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an uncomfortable man. He
shrugged his shoulders in ungracious acquiescence, while our visitor
in hurried words and with much excitable gesticulation poured forth
his story.
"I must explain to you, Mr. Holmes, that to-morrow is the first day
of the examination for the Fortescue Scholarship. I am one of the
examiners. My subject is Greek, and the first of the papers consists
of a large passage of Greek translation which the candidate has not
seen. This passage is printed on the examination paper, and it would
naturally be an immense advantage if the candidate could prepare it
in advance. For this reason great care is taken to keep the paper
secret.
"To-day about three o'clock the proofs of this paper arrived from the
printers. The exercise consists of half a chapter of Thucydides. I
had to read it over carefully, as the text must be absolutely
correct. At four-thirty my task was not yet completed. I had,
however, promised to take tea in a friend's rooms, so I left the
proof upon my desk. I was absent rather more than an hour.
"You are aware, Mr. Holmes, that our college doors are double--a
green baize one within and a heavy oak one without. As I approached
my outer door I was amazed to see a key in it. For an instant I
imagined that I had left my own there, but on feeling in my pocket I
found that it was all right. The only duplicate which existed, so far
as I knew, was that which belonged to my servant, Bannister, a man
who has looked after my room for ten years, and whose honesty is
absolutely above suspicion. I found that the key was indeed his, that
he had entered my room to know if I wanted tea, and that he had very
carelessly left the key in the door when he came out. His visit to my
room must have been within a very few minutes of my leaving it. His
forgetfulness about the key would have mattered little upon any other
occasion, but on this one day it has produced the most deplorable
consequences.
"The moment I looked at my table I was aware that someone had
rummaged among my papers. The proof was in three long slips. I had
left them all together. Now, I found that one of them was lying on
the floor, one was on the side table near the window, and the third
was where I had left it."
Holmes stirred for the first time.
"The first page on the floor, the second in the window, the third
where you left it," said he.
"Exactly, Mr. Holmes. You amaze me. How could you possibly know
that?"
"Pray continue your very interesting statement."
"For an instant I imagined that Bannister had taken the unpardonable
liberty of examining my papers. He denied it, however, with the
utmost earnestness, and I am convinced that he was speaking the
truth. The alternative was that someone passing had observed the key
in the door, had known that I was out, and had entered to look at the
papers. A large sum of money is at stake, for the scholarship is a
very valuable one, and an unscrupulous man might very well run a risk
in order to gain an advantage over his fellows.
"Bannister was very much upset by the incident. He had nearly fainted
when we found that the papers had undoubtedly been tampered with. I
gave him a little brandy and left him collapsed in a chair while I
made a most careful examination of the room. I soon saw that the
intruder had left other traces of his presence besides the rumpled
papers. On the table in the window were several shreds from a pencil
which had been sharpened. A broken tip of lead was lying there also.
Evidently the rascal had copied the paper in a great hurry, had
broken his pencil, and had been compelled to put a fresh point to
it."
"Excellent!" said Holmes, who was recovering his good-humour as his
attention became more engrossed by the case. "Fortune has been your
friend."
"This was not all. I have a new writing-table with a fine surface of
red leather. I am prepared to swear, and so is Bannister, that it was
smooth and unstained. Now I found a clean cut in it about three
inches long--not a mere scratch, but a positive cut. Not only this,
but on the table I found a small ball of black dough, or clay, with
specks of something which looks like sawdust in it. I am convinced
