she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector
Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who
struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest
terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been
given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily
with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had
shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away
at the conclusion and was carried out of court."
"Hum! So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully,
tossing aside the paper. "The question for us now to solve is the
sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the
crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see,
Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more
important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came
from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the
gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with
which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously
to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in
this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means
first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the
evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other
methods."
"What will you say?"
"Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then:
'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat.
Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6.30 this evening at
221b, Baker Street.' That is clear and concise."
"Very. But will he see it?"
"Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man,
the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance
in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he
thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly
regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again,
the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone
who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are,
Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the
evening papers."
"In which, sir?"
"Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, Evening News,
Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you."
"Very well, sir. And this stone?"
"Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson,
just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we
must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which
your family is now devouring."
When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held
it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it
glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime.
Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger
and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone
is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy
River in southern China and is remarkable in having every
characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade
instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister
history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide,
and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain
weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy
would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I'll lock it up in
my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have
it."
"Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?"
"I cannot tell."
"Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had
anything to do with the matter?"
"It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely
innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was
of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That,
however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer
to our advertisement."
"And you can do nothing until then?"
"Nothing."
"In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall
come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should
like to see the solution of so tangled a business."
"Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I
believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought
to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop."
I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six
when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the
house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was
buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle
which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was
opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes' room.
"Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchair and
greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so
readily assume. "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a
cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for
summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right
time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?"
"Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat."
He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a
broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled
brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his
extended hand, recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits. His rusty
black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar
turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a
sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing
his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of
learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune.
"We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because
we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I
am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise."
Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings have not been
so plentiful with me as they once were," he remarked. "I had no doubt
that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat
and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless
attempt at recovering them."
"Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat
it."
"To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement.
"Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But
I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about
the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally
well?"
"Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.
"Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your
own bird, so if you wish--"
The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as
relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see
what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be
to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my
attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the
sideboard."
Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of
his shoulders.
"There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he. "By the way,
would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am
somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown
goose."
"Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly
gained property under his arm. "There are a few of us who frequent
the Alpha Inn, near the Museum--we are to be found in the Museum
itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host,
Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on
consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a
bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar
to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted
neither to my years nor my gravity." With a comical pomposity of
manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way.
"So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes when he had closed the
door behind him. "It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever
about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?"
"Not particularly."
"Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up
this clue while it is still hot."
"By all means."
It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats
about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a
cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke
like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly
as we swung through the doctors' quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley
Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a
quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a
small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs
down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and
ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned
landlord.
"Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese," said
he.
"My geese!" The man seemed surprised.
"Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who
was a member of your goose club."
"Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese."
"Indeed! Whose, then?"
"Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden."
"Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?"
"Breckinridge is his name."
"Ah! I don't know him. Well, here's your good health landlord, and
prosperity to your house. Good-night."
"Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued, buttoning up his coat as we
came out into the frosty air. "Remember, Watson that though we have
so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the
other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude
unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our
inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line
of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a
singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the
bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!"
We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag
of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the
name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking
man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to
put up the shutters.
"Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes.
The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.
"Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare
slabs of marble.
"Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning."
"That's no good."
"Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare."
"Ah, but I was recommended to you."
"Who by?"
"The landlord of the Alpha."
"Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen."
"Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?"
To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the
salesman.
"Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms
akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight, now."
"It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese
which you supplied to the Alpha."
"Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!"
"Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should
be so warm over such a trifle."
"Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When
I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the
business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the
geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think
they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made
over them."
"Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been
making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the
bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a
matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is
