"'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said.
"'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.'
"'Then let me do so?'
"'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.'
"It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I
went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings.
"On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from
home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command
of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should
go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was
away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day
of his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to
come at once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits
which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a
shattered skull. I hurried to him, but he passed away without having
ever recovered his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been
returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was
unknown to him, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no
hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental
causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death,
I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder.
There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record
of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell
you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nigh
certain that some foul plot had been woven round him.
"In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why
I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that
our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my
uncle's life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house
as in another.
"It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and two
years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I
have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this
curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the
last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however;
yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had
come upon my father."
The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and
turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange
pips.
"This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is
London--eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon
my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the
sundial.'"
"What have you done?" asked Holmes.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white hands--"I
have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when
the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some
resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions
can guard against."
"Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are
lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair."
"I have seen the police."
"Ah!"
"But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the
inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical
jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as
the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings."
Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!"
he cried.
"They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the
house with me."
"Has he come with you to-night?"
"No. His orders were to stay in the house."
Again Holmes raved in the air.
"Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you not
come at once?"
"I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast
about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you."
"It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted
before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which
you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?"
"There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat
pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper,
he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said he,
"that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the
small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this
particular colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his
room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers
which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that
way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see
that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a page from some
private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's."
Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper,
which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a
book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following
enigmatical notices:
4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.
7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain, of St.
Augustine.
9th. McCauley cleared.
10th. John Swain cleared.
12th. Visited Paramore. All well.
"Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to
our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. We
cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get
home instantly and act."
"What shall I do?"
"There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put
this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which
you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the
other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one
which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry
conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box
out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?"
"Entirely."
"Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I
think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web
to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is
to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to
clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties."
"I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his
overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly
do as you advise."
"Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the
meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are
threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?"
"By train from Waterloo."
"It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you
may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely."
"I am armed."
"That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case."
"I shall see you at Horsham, then?"
"No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it."
"Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to
the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every
particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the
wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the
windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid
the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a
gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more.
Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk
forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit
his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue
smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.
"I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we
have had none more fantastic than this."
"Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."
"Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to
me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos."
"But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what
these perils are?"
"There can be no question as to their nature," he answered.
"Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue
this unhappy family?"
Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms
of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," he
remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all
its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which
led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As
Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation
of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one
link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all
the other ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the
results which the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved
in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution
by the aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest
pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise
all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself
implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge,
which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a
somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that
a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to
him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I
remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our
friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion."
"Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy,
astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany
variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region
within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy
unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique,
violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine
and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis."
Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as I
said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with
all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put
away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he
wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to
us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly
hand me down the letter K of the 'American Encyclopaedia' which
stands upon the shelf beside you. Thank you. Now let us consider the
situation and see what may be deduced from it. In the first place, we
may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some
very strong reason for leaving America. Men at his time of life do
not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming
climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town.
His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was
in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working
hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him
from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by
considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and
his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?"
"The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the
third from London."
"From East London. What do you deduce from that?"
"They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship."
"Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the
probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board
of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of
Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its
fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that
suggest anything?"
"A greater distance to travel."
"But the letter had also a greater distance to come."
"Then I do not see the point."
"There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or
men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their
singular warning or token before them when starting upon their
mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came
