第 16 页

the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope.

" 'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I

leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages,

to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to

you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you

cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest

enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I

can't say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the

paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.'

"I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away

with him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the

deepest impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it

every way in my mind without being able to make anything of it.

Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left

behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed

and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I

could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than

ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his

time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the

inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken

frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the

garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was

afraid of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a

sheep in a pen, by man or devil. When these hot fits were over

however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and

bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it out no longer

against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At such

times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with

moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin.

"Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not

to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of

those drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found

him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little

green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There

was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet

deep, so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity,

brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how he

winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade

myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter

passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the

estate, and of some 14,000 pounds, which lay to his credit at the

bank."

"One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I

foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever lis-

tened. Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the

letter, and the date of his supposed suicide."

"The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven

weeks later, upon the night of May 2d."

"Thank you. Pray proceed."

"When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my

request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been

always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its

contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a

paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and

'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath.

These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had

been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was

nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many

scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in

America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he

had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave

soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the

Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he

had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag

politicians who had been sent down from the North.

"Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to

live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until

the January of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard

my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the

breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened enve-

lope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched

palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what he called

my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very

scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon

himself.

" 'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered.

"My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I.

"He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here are

the very letters. But what is this written above them?'

" 'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his

shoulder.

" 'What papers? What sundial?' he asked.

" 'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but

the papers must be those that are destroyed.'

" 'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in a

civilized land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind.

Where does the thing come from?'

" 'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark.

" 'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he. 'What have I to

do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such

nonsense.'

" '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 recov-

ered 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 way 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 re-

main 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 remem-

brance," 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.

1Oth. John Swain cleared.

12th. Visited Paramore. All well.

"Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and return-

ing 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 l 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 pat-

tered 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