will say first. So far as I am concerned I regret nothing and I fear
nothing, and I would do it all again and be proud of the job. Curse
the beast, if he had as many lives as a cat he would owe them all to
me! But it's the lady, Mary--Mary Fraser--for never will I call her
by that accursed name. When I think of getting her into trouble, I
who would give my life just to bring one smile to her dear face, it's
that that turns my soul into water. And yet--and yet--what less could
I do? I'll tell you my story, gentlemen, and then I'll ask you as man
to man what less could I do.
"I must go back a bit. You seem to know everything, so I expect that
you know that I met her when she was a passenger and I was first
officer of the Rock of Gibraltar. From the first day I met her she
was the only woman to me. Every day of that voyage I loved her more,
and many a time since have I kneeled down in the darkness of the
night watch and kissed the deck of that ship because I knew her dear
feet had trod it. She was never engaged to me. She treated me as
fairly as ever a woman treated a man. I have no complaint to make. It
was all love on my side, and all good comradeship and friendship on
hers. When we parted she was a free woman, but I could never again be
a free man.
"Next time I came back from sea I heard of her marriage. Well, why
shouldn't she marry whom she liked? Title and money--who could carry
them better than she? She was born for all that is beautiful and
dainty. I didn't grieve over her marriage. I was not such a selfish
hound as that. I just rejoiced that good luck had come her way, and
that she had not thrown herself away on a penniless sailor. That's
how I loved Mary Fraser.
"Well, I never thought to see her again; but last voyage I was
promoted, and the new boat was not yet launched, so I had to wait for
a couple of months with my people at Sydenham. One day out in a
country lane I met Theresa Wright, her old maid. She told me about
her, about him, about everything. I tell you, gentlemen, it nearly
drove me mad. This drunken hound, that he should dare to raise his
hand to her whose boots he was not worthy to lick! I met Theresa
again. Then I met Mary herself--and met her again. Then she would
meet me no more. But the other day I had a notice that I was to start
on my voyage within a week, and I determined that I would see her
once before I left. Theresa was always my friend, for she loved Mary
and hated this villain almost as much as I did. From her I learned
the ways of the house. Mary used to sit up reading in her own little
room downstairs. I crept round there last night and scratched at the
window. At first she would not open to me, but in her heart I know
that now she loves me, and she could not leave me in the frosty
night. She whispered to me to come round to the big front window, and
I found it open before me so as to let me into the dining-room. Again
I heard from her own lips things that made my blood boil, and again I
cursed this brute who mishandled the woman that I loved. Well,
gentlemen, I was standing with her just inside the window, in all
innocence, as Heaven is my judge, when he rushed like a madman into
the room, called her the vilest name that a man could use to a woman,
and welted her across the face with the stick he had in his hand. I
had sprung for the poker, and it was a fair fight between us. See
here on my arm where his first blow fell. Then it was my turn, and I
went through him as if he had been a rotten pumpkin. Do you think I
was sorry? Not I! It was his life or mine, but far more than that it
was his life or hers, for how could I leave her in the power of this
madman? That was how I killed him. Was I wrong? Well, then, what
would either of you gentlemen have done if you had been in my
position?
"She had screamed when he struck her, and that brought old Theresa
down from the room above. There was a bottle of wine on the
sideboard, and I opened it and poured a little between Mary's lips,
for she was half dead with the shock. Then I took a drop myself.
Theresa was as cool as ice, and it was her plot as much as mine. We
must make it appear that burglars had done the thing. Theresa kept on
repeating our story to her mistress, while I swarmed up and cut the
rope of the bell. Then I lashed her in her chair, and frayed out the
end of the rope to make it look natural, else they would wonder how
in the world a burglar could have got up there to cut it. Then I
gathered up a few plates and pots of silver, to carry out the idea of
a robbery, and there I left them with orders to give the alarm when I
had a quarter of an hour's start. I dropped the silver into the pond
and made off for Sydenham, feeling that for once in my life I had
done a real good night's work. And that's the truth and the whole
truth, Mr. Holmes, if it costs me my neck."
Holmes smoked for some time in silence. Then he crossed the room and
shook our visitor by the hand.
"That's what I think," said he. "I know that every word is true, for
you have hardly said a word which I did not know. No one but an
acrobat or a sailor could have got up to that bell-rope from the
bracket, and no one but a sailor could have made the knots with which
the cord was fastened to the chair. Only once had this lady been
brought into contact with sailors, and that was on her voyage, and it
was someone of her own class of life, since she was trying hard to
shield him and so showing that she loved him. You see how easy it was
for me to lay my hands upon you when once I had started upon the
right trail."
"I thought the police never could have seen through our dodge."
"And the police haven't; nor will they, to the best of my belief.
Now, look here, Captain Croker, this is a very serious matter, though
I am willing to admit that you acted under the most extreme
provocation to which any man could be subjected. I am not sure that
in defence of your own life your action will not be pronounced
legitimate. However, that is for a British jury to decide. Meanwhile
I have so much sympathy for you that if you choose to disappear in
the next twenty-four hours I will promise you that no one will hinder
you."
"And then it will all come out?"
"Certainly it will come out."
The sailor flushed with anger.
"What sort of proposal is that to make a man? I know enough of law to
understand that Mary would be had as accomplice. Do you think I would
leave her alone to face the music while I slunk away? No, sir; let
them do their worst upon me, but for Heaven's sake, Mr. Holmes, find
some way of keeping my poor Mary out of the courts."
Holmes for a second time held out his hand to the sailor.
"I was only testing you, and you ring true every time. Well, it is a
great responsibility that I take upon myself, but I have given
Hopkins an excellent hint, and if he can't avail himself of it I can
do no more. See here, Captain Croker, we'll do this in due form of
law. You are the prisoner. Watson, you are a British jury, and I
never met a man who was more eminently fitted to represent one. I am
the judge. Now, gentleman of the jury, you have heard the evidence.
Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty, my lord," said I.
"Vox populi, vox Dei. You are acquitted, Captain Croker. So long as
the law does not find some other victim you are safe from me. Come
back to this lady in a year, and may her future and yours justify us
in the judgment which we have pronounced this night."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND STAIN
I had intended "The Adventure of the Abbey Grange" to be the last of
those exploits of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, which I should ever
communicate to the public. This resolution of mine was not due to any
lack of material, since I have notes of many hundreds of cases to
which I have never alluded, nor was it caused by any waning interest
on the part of my readers in the singular personality and unique
methods of this remarkable man. The real reason lay in the reluctance
which Mr. Holmes has shown to the continued publication of his
experiences. So long as he was in actual professional practice the
records of his successes were of some practical value to him; but
since he has definitely retired from London and betaken himself to
study and bee-farming on the Sussex Downs, notoriety has become
hateful to him, and he has peremptorily requested that his wishes in
this matter should be strictly observed. It was only upon my
representing to him that I had given a promise that "The Adventure of
the Second Stain" should be published when the times were ripe, and
pointing out to him that it is only appropriate that this long series
of episodes should culminate in the most important international case
which he has ever been called upon to handle, that I at last
succeeded in obtaining his consent that a carefully-guarded account
of the incident should at last be laid before the public. If in
telling the story I seem to be somewhat vague in certain details the
public will readily understand that there is an excellent reason for
my reticence.
It was, then, in a year, and even in a decade, that shall be
nameless, that upon one Tuesday morning in autumn we found two
visitors of European fame within the walls of our humble room in
Baker Street. The one, austere, high-nosed, eagle-eyed, and dominant,
was none other than the illustrious Lord Bellinger, twice Premier of
Britain. The other, dark, clear-cut, and elegant, hardly yet of
middle age, and endowed with every beauty of body and of mind, was
the Right Honourable Trelawney Hope, Secretary for European Affairs,
and the most rising statesman in the country. They sat side by side
upon our paper-littered settee, and it was easy to see from their
worn and anxious faces that it was business of the most pressing
importance which had brought them. The Premier's thin, blue-veined
hands were clasped tightly over the ivory head of his umbrella, and
his gaunt, ascetic face looked gloomily from Holmes to me. The
European Secretary pulled nervously at his moustache and fidgeted
with the seals of his watch-chain.
"When I discovered my loss, Mr. Holmes, which was at eight o'clock
this morning, I at once informed the Prime Minister. It was at his
suggestion that we have both come to you."
"Have you informed the police?"
"No, sir," said the Prime Minister, with the quick, decisive manner
for which he was famous. "We have not done so, nor is it possible
that we should do so. To inform the police must, in the long run,
mean to inform the public. This is what we particularly desire to
avoid."
"And why, sir?"
"Because the document in question is of such immense importance that
its publication might very easily--I might almost say probably--lead
to European complications of the utmost moment. It is not too much to
say that peace or war may hang upon the issue. Unless its recovery
can be attended with the utmost secrecy, then it may as well not be
recovered at all, for all that is aimed at by those who have taken it
is that its contents should be generally known."
"I understand. Now, Mr. Trelawney Hope, I should be much obliged if
you would tell me exactly the circumstances under which this document
disappeared."
"That can be done in a very few words, Mr. Holmes. The letter--for it
was a letter from a foreign potentate--was received six days ago. It
was of such importance that I have never left it in my safe, but I
have taken it across each evening to my house in Whitehall Terrace,
and kept it in my bedroom in a locked despatch-box. It was there last
night. Of that I am certain. I actually opened the box while I was
dressing for dinner, and saw the document inside. This morning it was
gone. The despatch-box had stood beside the glass upon my
dressing-table all night. I am a light sleeper, and so is my wife. We
are both prepared to swear that no one could have entered the room
during the night. And yet I repeat that the paper is gone."
"What time did you dine?"
"Half-past seven."
"How long was it before you went to bed?"
"My wife had gone to the theatre. I waited up for her. It was
half-past eleven before we went to our room."
"Then for four hours the despatch-box had lain unguarded?"
"No one is ever permitted to enter that room save the housemaid in
the morning, and my valet, or my wife's maid, during the rest of the
day. They are both trusty servants who have been with us for some
time. Besides, neither of them could possibly have known that there
was anything more valuable than the ordinary departmental papers in
my despatch-box."
"Who did know of the existence of that letter?"
"No one in the house."
"Surely your wife knew?"
"No, sir; I had said nothing to my wife until I missed the paper this
