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 outstretched 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 Mincing Lane, and that the
matter has been brought to a satisfactory conclusion. With thanks for
your recommendation, I am, sir,
Faithfully yours,
Sherlock Holmes.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE THREE GARRIDEBS
It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one
man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another
man the penalties of the law. Yet there was certainly an element of
comedy. Well, you shall judge for yourselves.
I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month that
Holmes refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some day
be described. I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my
position of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly
careful to avoid any indiscretion. I repeat, however, that this
enables me to fix the date, which was the latter end of June, 1902,
shortly after the conclusion of the South African War. Holmes had
spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time, but he
emerged that morning with a long foolscap document in his hand and a
twinkle of amusement in his austere gray eyes.
"There is a chance for you to make some money, friend Watson," said
he. "Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?"
I admitted that I had not.
"Well, if you can lay your hand upon a Garrideb, there's money in
it."
"Why?"
"Ah, that's a long story--rather a whimsical one, too. I don't think
in all our explorations of human complexities we have ever come upon
anything more singular. The fellow will be here presently for
cross-examination, so I won't open the matter up till he comes. But,
meanwhile, that's the name we want."
The telephone directory lay on the table beside me, and I turned over
the pages in a rather hopeless quest. But to my amazement there was
this strange name in its due place. I gave a cry of triumph.
"Here you are, Holmes! Here it is!"
Holmes took the book from my hand.
"'Garrideb, N.,' " he read, "'136 Little Ryder Street, W.' Sorry to
disappoint you, my dear Watson, but this is the man himself. That is
the address upon his letter. We want another to match him."
Mrs. Hudson had come in with a card upon a tray. I took it up and
glanced at it.
"Why, here it is!" I cried in amazement. "This is a different
initial. John Garrideb, Counsellor at Law, Moorville, Kansas, U. S.
A."
Holmes smiled as he looked at the card. "I am afraid you must make
yet another effort, Watson," said he. "This gentleman is also in the
plot already, though I certainly did not expect to see him this
morning. However, he is in a position to tell us a good deal which I
want to know."
A moment later he was in the room. Mr. John Garrideb, Counsellor at
Law, was a short, powerful man with the round, fresh, clean-shaven
face characteristic of so many American men of affairs. The general
effect was chubby and rather childlike, so that one received the
impression of quite a young man with a broad set smile upon his face.
His eyes, however, were arresting. Seldom in any human head have I
seen a pair which bespoke a more intense inward life, so bright were
they, so alert, so responsive to every change of thought. His accent
was American, but was not accompanied by any eccentricity of speech.
"Mr. Holmes?" he asked, glancing from one to the other. "Ah, yes!
Your pictures are not unlike you, sir, if I may say so. I believe you
have had a letter from my namesake, Mr. Nathan Garrideb, have you
not?"
"Pray sit down," said Sherlock Holmes. "We shall, I fancy, have a
good deal to discuss." He took up his sheets of foolscap. "You are,
of course, the Mr. John Garrideb mentioned in this document. But
surely you have been in England some time?"
"Why do you say that, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to read sudden suspicion
in those expressive eyes.
"Your whole outfit is English."
Mr. Garrideb forced a laugh. "I've read of your tricks, Mr. Holmes,
but I never thought I would be the subject of them. Where do you read
that?"
"The shoulder cut of your coat, the toes of your boots--could anyone
doubt it?"
"Well, well, I had no idea I was so obvious a Britisher. But business
brought me over here some time ago, and so, as you say, my outfit is
nearly all London. However, I guess your time is of value, and we did
not meet to talk about the cut of my socks. What about getting down
to that paper you hold in your hand?"
Holmes had in some way ruffled our visitor, whose chubby face had
assumed a far less amiable expression.
"Patience! Patience, Mr. Garrideb!" said my friend in a soothing
voice. "Dr. Watson would tell you that these little digressions of
mine sometimes prove in the end to have some bearing on the matter.
But why did Mr. Nathan Garrideb not come with you?"
"Why did he ever drag you into it at all?" asked our visitor with a
sudden outflame of anger. "What in thunder had you to do with it?
Here was a bit of professional business between two gentlemen, and
one of them must needs call in a detective! I saw him this morning,
and he told me this fool-trick he had played me, and that's why I am
here. But I feel bad about it, all the same."
"There was no reflection upon you, Mr. Garrideb. It was simply zeal
upon his part to gain your end--an end which is, I understand,
equally vital for both of you. He knew that I had means of getting
information, and, therefore, it was very natural that he should apply
to me."
Our visitor's angry face gradually cleared.
"Well, that puts it different," said he. "When I went to see him this
morning and he told me he had sent to a detective, I just asked for
your address and came right away. I don't want police butting into a
private matter. But if you are content just to help us find the man,
there can be no harm in that."
"Well, that is just how it stands," said Holmes. "And now, sir, since
you are here, we had best have a clear account from your own lips. My
friend here knows nothing of the details."
Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze.
"Need he know?" he asked.
"We usually work together."
"Well, there's no reason it should be kept a secret. I'll give you
the facts as short as I can make them. If you came from Kansas I
would not need to explain to you who Alexander Hamilton Garrideb was.
He made his money in real estate, and afterwards in the wheat pit at
Chicago, but he spent it in buying up as much land as would make one
of your counties, lying along the Arkansas River, west of Fort Dodge.
It's grazing-land and lumber-land and arable-land and
mineralized-land, and just every sort of land that brings dollars to
the man that owns it.
"He had no kith nor kin--or, if he had, I never heard of it. But he
took a kind of pride in the queerness of his name. That was what
brought us together. I was in the law at Topeka, and one day I had a
visit from the old man, and he was tickled to death to meet another
man with his own name. It was his pet fad, and he was dead set to
find out if there were any more Garridebs in the world. 'Find me
another!' said he. I told him I was a busy man and could not spend my
life hiking round the world in search of Garridebs. 'None the less,'
said he, 'that is just what you will do if things pan out as I
planned them.' I thought he was joking, but there was a powerful lot
of meaning in the words, as I was soon to discover.
"For he died within a year of saying them, and he left a will behind
him. It was the queerest will that has ever been filed in the State
of Kansas. His property was divided into three parts, and I was to
have one on condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the
remainder. It's five million dollars for each if it is a cent, but we
can't lay a finger on it until we all three stand in a row.
"It was so big a chance that I just let my legal practice slide and I
set forth looking for Garridebs. There is not one in the United
States. I went through it, sir, with a fine-toothed comb and never a
Garrideb could I catch. Then I tried the old country. Sure enough
there was the name in the London telephone directory. I went after
him two days ago and explained the whole matter to him. But he is a
lone man, like myself, with some women relations, but no men. It says
three adult men in the will. So you see we still have a vacancy, and
if you can help to fill it we will be very ready to pay your
charges."
"Well, Watson," said Holmes with a smile, "I said it was rather
whimsical, did I not? I should have thought, sir, that your obvious
way was to advertise in the agony columns of the papers."
"I have done that, Mr. Holmes. No replies."
"Dear me! Well, it is certainly a most curious little problem. I may
take a glance at it in my leisure. By the way, it is curious that you
should have come from Topeka. I used to have a correspondent--he is
dead now--old Dr. Lysander Starr, who was mayor in 1890."
"Good old Dr. Starr!" said our visitor. "His name is still honoured.
Well, Mr. Holmes, I suppose all we can do is to report to you and let
you know how we progress. I reckon you will hear within a day or
two." With this assurance our American bowed and departed.
Holmes had lit his pipe, and he sat for some time with a curious
smile upon his face.
"Well?" I asked at last.
"I am wondering, Watson--just wondering!"
"At what?"
Holmes took his pipe from his lips.
"I was wondering, Watson, what on earth could be the object of this
man in telling us such a rigmarole of lies. I nearly asked him
so--for there are times when a brutal frontal attack is the best
policy--but I judged it better to let him think he had fooled us.
Here is a man with an English coat frayed at the elbow and trousers
bagged at the knee with a year's wear, and yet by this document and
by his own account he is a provincial American lately landed in
London. There have been no advertisements in the agony columns. You
know that I miss nothing there. They are my favourite covert for
putting up a bird, and I would never have overlooked such a cock
pheasant as that. I never knew a Dr. Lysander Starr, of Topeka. Touch
him where you would he was false. I think the fellow is really an
American, but he has worn his accent smooth with years of London.
What is his game, then, and what motive lies behind this preposterous
search for Garridebs? It's worth our attention, for, granting that
the man is a rascal, he is certainly a complex and ingenious one. We
must now find out if our other correspondent is a fraud also. Just
ring him up, Watson."
I did so, and heard a thin, quavering voice at the other end of the
line.
"Yes, yes, I am Mr. Nathan Garrideb. Is Mr. Holmes there? I should
very much like to have a word with Mr. Holmes."
My friend took the instrument and I heard the usual syncopated
dialogue.
"Yes, he has been here. I understand that you don't know him. ... How
long? ... Only two days! ... Yes, yes, of course, it is a most
captivating prospect. Will you be at home this evening? I suppose
your namesake will not be there? ... Very good, we will come then,
for I would rather have a chat without him. ... Dr. Watson will come
with me. ... I understand from your note that you did not go out
often. ... Well, we shall be round about six. You need not mention it
to the American lawyer. ... Very good. Good-bye!"
It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder
Street, one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a
stone-cast of old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and
wonderful in the slanting rays of the setting sun. The particular
house to which we were directed was a large, old-fashioned, Early
