A STUDY IN SCARLET ....................................................................................................................................1

Arthur Conan Doyle .................................................................................................................................1

(Being a reprint from the reminiscences of JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., late of the Army Medical

IN the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to

Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my studies there, I

was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in

India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I

learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's country. I

followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in

reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster.

I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of

Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the

subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the

devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a packhorse, and succeeded in

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great

train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far

as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by

enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I

came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that

not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship

"Orontes," and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health irretrievably ruined, but with

permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air or as free as an income of eleven

shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to

London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There

I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and

spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my

finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the

country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter alternative, I

began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less

On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when some one

tapped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser under me

at Barts. The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely

man. In old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm,

and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?" he asked in undisguised wonder, as we rattled

through the crowded London streets. "You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut."

I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our

"Poor devil!" he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my misfortunes. "What are you up to now?"

"Looking for lodgings." I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get

"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second man today that has used that

"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this

morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found,

"By Jove!" I cried, "if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wineglass. "You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet,"

"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He is a little queer in his ideas an enthusiast in some

"No I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a firstclass

chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very

desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of outofthe way knowledge which would astonish his

"No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy

"I should like to meet him," I said. "If I am to lodge with anyone, I should prefer a man of studious and quiet

habits. I am not strong enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in Afghanistan to

last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How could I meet this friend of yours?"

"He is sure to be at the laboratory," returned my companion. "He either avoids the place for weeks, or else he

works there from morning to night. If you like, we shall drive round together after luncheon."

As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the Holborn, Stamford gave me a few more particulars

"You mustn't blame me if you don't get on with him," he said; "I know nothing more of him than I have

learned from meeting him occasionally in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so you must not

"If we don't get on it will be easy to part company," I answered. "It seems to me, Stamford," I added, looking

hard at my companion, "that you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. Is this fellow's

"It is not easy to express the inexpressible," he answered with a laugh. "Holmes is a little too scientific for my

tastes it approaches to coldbloodedness. I could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest

vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to

have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, I think that he would take it himself with the same

"Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissectingrooms with a

"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw him at it with my own eyes."

"No. Heaven knows what the objects of his studies are. But here we are, and you must form your own

impressions about him." As he spoke, we turned down a narrow lane and passed through a small sidedoor,

which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to me, and I needed no guiding as we

ascended the bleak stone staircase and made our way down the long corridor with its vista of whitewashed

wall and duncoloured doors. Near the further end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about,

which bristled with retorts, testtubes, and little Bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering flames. There was

only one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work. At the sound of our

steps he glanced round and sprang to his feet with a cry of pleasure. "I've found it! I've found it," he shouted

to my companion, running towards us with a testtube in his hand. "I have found a reagent which is

precipitated by hoemoglobin, and by nothing else." Had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not

"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him

"Never mind," said he, chuckling to himself. "The question now is about hoemoglobin. No doubt you see the

"Why, man, it is the most practical medicolegal discovery for years. Don't you see that it gives us an

infallible test for blood stains. Come over here now!" He seized me by the coatsleeve in his eagerness, and

drew me over to the table at which he had been working. "Let us have some fresh blood," he said, digging a

long bodkin into his finger, and drawing off the resulting drop of blood in a chemical pipette. "Now, I add

this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. You perceive that the resulting mixture has the appearance of

pure water. The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we

shall be able to obtain the characteristic reaction." As he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals,

and then added some drops of a transparent fluid. In an instant the contents assumed a dull mahogany colour,

"Ha! ha!" he cried, clapping his hands, and looking as delighted as a child with a new toy. "What do you

"Beautiful! beautiful! The old Guiacum test was very clumsy and uncertain. So is the microscopic

examination for blood corpuscles. The latter is valueless if the stains are a few hours old. Now, this appears

to act as well whether the blood is old or new. Had this test been invented, there are hundreds of men now

"Criminal cases are continually hinging upon that one point. A man is suspected of a crime months perhaps

after it has been committed. His linen or clothes are examined, and brownish stains discovered upon them.

Are they blood stains, or mud stains, or rust stains, or fruit stains, or what are they? That is a question which

has puzzled many an expert, and why? Because there was no reliable test. Now we have the Sherlock

His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his hand over his heart and bowed as if to some applauding

"You are to be congratulated," I remarked, considerably surprised at his enthusiasm.

"There was the case of Von Bischoff at Frankfort last year. He would certainly have been hung had this test

been in existence. Then there was Mason of Bradford, and the notorious Muller, and Lefevre of Montpellier,

and Samson of new Orleans. I could name a score of cases in which it would have been decisive."

"You seem to be a walking calendar of crime," said Stamford with a laugh. "You might start a paper on those

"Very interesting reading it might be made, too," remarked Sherlock Holmes, sticking a small piece of plaster

over the prick on his finger. "I have to be careful," he continued, turning to me with a smile, "for I dabble

with poisons a good deal." He held out his hand as he spoke, and I noticed that it was all mottled over with

"We came here on business," said Stamford, sitting down on a high threelegged stool, and pushing another

one in my direction with his foot. "My friend here wants to take diggings, and as you were complaining that

you could get no one to go halves with you, I thought that I had better bring you together."

Sherlock Holmes seemed delighted at the idea of sharing his rooms with me. "I have my eye on a suite in

Baker Street," he said, "which would suit us down to the ground. You don't mind the smell of strong tobacco,

"That's good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy

"Let me see what are my other shortcomings. I get in the dumps at times, and don't open my mouth for

days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I'll soon be right. What

have you to confess now? It's just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin

I laughed at this crossexamination. "I keep a bull pup," I said, "and I object to rows because my nerves are

shaken, and I get up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of vices when

"It depends on the player," I answered. "A wellplayed violin is a treat for the gods a badlyplayed one

"Oh, that's all right," he cried, with a merry laugh. "I think we may consider the thing as settled that is, if

"Call for me here at noon tomorrow, and we'll go together and settle everything," he answered.

We left him working among his chemicals, and we walked together towards my hotel.

"By the way," I asked suddenly, stopping and turning upon Stamford, "how the deuce did he know that I had

My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. "That's just his little peculiarity," he said. "A good many people

"Oh! a mystery is it?" I cried, rubbing my hands. "This is very piquant. I am much obliged to you for bringing

"You must study him, then," Stamford said, as he bade me goodbye. "You'll find him a knotty problem,

"Goodbye," I answered, and strolled on to my hotel, considerably interested in my new acquaintance.

WE met next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at No. 221B, Baker Street, of which he had

spoken at our meeting. They consisted of a couple of comfortable bedrooms and a single large airy

sittingroom, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broad windows. So desirable in every way were

the apartments, and so moderate did the terms seem when divided between us, that the bargain was concluded

upon the spot, and we at once entered into possession. That very evening I moved my things round from the

hotel, and on the following morning Sherlock Holmes followed me with several boxes and portmanteaus. For

a day or two we were busily employed in unpacking and laying out our property to the best advantage. That

done, we gradually began to settle down and to accommodate ourselves to our new surroundings.

Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with. He was quiet in his ways, and his habits were regular. It

was rare for him to be up after ten at night, and he had invariably breakfasted and gone out before I rose in

the morning. Sometimes he spent his day at the chemical laboratory, sometimes in the dissectingrooms, and

occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take him into the lowest portions of the City. Nothing could

exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for

days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sittingroom, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from

morning to night. On these occasions I have noticed such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes, that I

might have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperance and

As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to his aims in life, gradually deepened and

increased. His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In

height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes

were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin,

hawklike nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence

and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained

with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to

The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess how much this man stimulated my

curiosity, and how often I endeavoured to break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned

himself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how

little there was to engage my attention. My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was

exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily

existence. Under these circumstances, I eagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion,

He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question, confirmed Stamford's opinion upon

that point. Neither did he appear to have pursued any course of reading which might fit him for a degree in

science or any other recognized portal which would give him an entrance into the learned world. Yet his zeal

for certain studies was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his knowledge was so extraordinarily ample

and minute that his observations have fairly astounded me. Surely no man would work so hard or attain such

precise information unless he had some definite end in view. Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the

exactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good reason

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he

appeared to know next to nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he

might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he

was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized human

being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to

"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall

"You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to

stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across,

so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of

other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful

indeed as to what he takes into his brainattic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in

doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to

think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time

when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest

"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round

I was on the point of asking him what that work might be, but something in his manner showed me that the

question would be an unwelcome one. I pondered over our short conversation, however, and endeavoured to

draw my deductions from it. He said that he would acquire no knowledge which did not bear upon his object.

Therefore all the knowledge which he possessed was such as would be useful to him. I enumerated in my

own mind all the various points upon which he had shown me that he was exceptionally wellinformed. I

even took a pencil and jotted them down. I could not help smiling at the document when I had completed it. It

Tells at a glance different soils from each other. After walks has shown me splashes upon his

trousers, and told me by their colour and consistence in what part of London he had received them.

When I had got so far in my list I threw it into the fire in despair. "If I can only find what the fellow is driving

at by reconciling all these accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all," I said to

I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin. These were very remarkable, but as eccentric as

all his other accomplishments. That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my

request he has played me some of Mendelssohn's Lieder, and other favourites. When left to himself, however,

he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his armchair of an

evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee.

Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly

they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the

playing was simply the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine. I might have rebelled

against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick

succession a whole series of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience.

During the first week or so we had no callers, and I had begun to think that my companion was as friendless a

man as I was myself. Presently, however, I found that he had many acquaintances, and those in the most

different classes of society. There was one little sallow ratfaced, darkeyed fellow who was introduced to

me as Mr. Lestrade, and who came three or four times in a single week. One morning a young girl called,

fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. The same afternoon brought a greyheaded, seedy

visitor, looking like a Jew pedlar, who appeared to me to be much excited, and who was closely followed by

a slipshod elderly woman. On another occasion an old whitehaired gentleman had an interview with my

companion; and on another a railway porter in his velveteen uniform. When any of these nondescript

individuals put in an appearance, Sherlock Holmes used to beg for the use of the sittingroom, and I would

retire to my bedroom. He always apologized to me for putting me to this inconvenience. "I have to use this

room as a place of business," he said, "and these people are my clients." Again I had an opportunity of asking

him a point blank question, and again my delicacy prevented me from forcing another man to confide in me. I

imagined at the time that he had some strong reason for not alluding to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by

It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason to remember, that I rose somewhat earlier than usual, and

found that Sherlock Holmes had not yet finished his breakfast. The landlady had become so accustomed to

my late habits that my place had not been laid nor my coffee prepared. With the unreasonable petulance of

mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that I was ready. Then I picked up a magazine from the

table and attempted to while away the time with it, while my companion munched silently at his toast. One of

the articles had a pencil mark at the heading, and I naturally began to run my eye through it.

Its somewhat ambitious title was "The Book of Life," and it attempted to show how much an observant man

might learn by an accurate and systematic examination of all that came in his way. It struck me as being a

remarkable mixture of shrewdness and of absurdity. The reasoning was close and intense, but the deductions

appeared to me to be farfetched and exaggerated. The writer claimed by a momentary expression, a twitch

of a muscle or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man's inmost thoughts. Deceit, according to him, was an

impossibility in the case of one trained to observation and analysis. His conclusions were as infallible as so

many propositions of Euclid. So startling would his results appear to the uninitiated that until they learned the

processes by which he had arrived at them they might well consider him as a necromancer.

"From a drop of water," said the writer, "a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara

without having seen or heard of one or the other. So all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known

whenever we are shown a single link of it. Like all other arts, the Science of Deduction and Analysis is one

which can only be acquired by long and patient study nor is life long enough to allow any mortal to attain the

highest possible perfection in it. Before turning to those moral and mental aspects of the matter which present

the greatest difficulties, let the enquirer begin by mastering more elementary problems. Let him, on meeting a

fellowmortal, learn at a glance to distinguish the history of the man, and the trade or profession to which he

belongs. Puerile as such an exercise may seem, it sharpens the faculties of observation, and teaches one

where to look and what to look for. By a man's finger nails, by his coatsleeve, by his boot, by his trouser

knees, by the callosities of his forefinger and thumb, by his expression, by his shirt cuffs by each of these

things a man's calling is plainly revealed. That all united should fail to enlighten the competent enquirer in

"What ineffable twaddle!" I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table, "I never read such rubbish in my

"Why, this article," I said, pointing at it with my egg spoon as I sat down to my breakfast. "I see that you

have read it since you have marked it. I don't deny that it is smartly written. It irritates me though. It is

evidently the theory of some armchair lounger who evolves all these neat little paradoxes in the seclusion of

his own study. It is not practical. I should like to see him clapped down in a third class carriage on the

Underground, and asked to give the trades of all his fellowtravellers. I would lay a thousand to one against

"You would lose your money," Sherlock Holmes remarked calmly. "As for the article I wrote it myself."

"Yes, I have a turn both for observation and for deduction. The theories which I have expressed there, and

which appear to you to be so chimerical are really extremely practical so practical that I depend upon

"Well, I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one in the world. I'm a consulting detective, if you

can understand what that is. Here in London we have lots of Government detectives and lots of private ones.

When these fellows are at fault they come to me, and I manage to put them on the right scent. They lay all the

evidence before me, and I am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of the history of crime, to set them

straight. There is a strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you have all the details of a thousand at

your finger ends, it is odd if you can't unravel the thousand and first. Lestrade is a wellknown detective. He

got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here."

"They are mostly sent on by private inquiry agencies. They are all people who are in trouble about something,

and want a little enlightening. I listen to their story, they listen to my comments, and then I pocket my fee."

"But do you mean to say," I said, "that without leaving your room you can unravel some knot which other

"Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex.

Then I have to bustle about and see things with my own eyes. You see I have a lot of special knowledge

which I apply to the problem, and which facilitates matters wonderfully. Those rules of deduction laid down

in that article which aroused your scorn, are invaluable to me in practical work. Observation with me is

second nature. You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on our first meeting, that you had come from

"Nothing of the sort. I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly

through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were

such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, `Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a

military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is

not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard

face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the

tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in

Afghanistan.' The whole train of thought did not occupy a second. I then remarked that you came from

"It is simple enough as you explain it," I said, smiling. "You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin. I had no

Sherlock Holmes rose and lit his pipe. "No doubt you think that you are complimenting me in comparing me

to Dupin," he observed. "Now, in my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick of his of breaking

in on his friends' thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour's silence is really very showy and

superficial. He had some analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means such a phenomenon as Poe

"Have you read Gaboriau's works?" I asked. "Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?"

Sherlock Holmes sniffed sardonically. "Lecoq was a miserable bungler," he said, in an angry voice; "he had

only one thing to recommend him, and that was his energy. That book made me positively ill. The question

was how to identify an unknown prisoner. I could have done it in twentyfour hours. Lecoq took six months

I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I had admired treated in this cavalier style. I walked

over to the window, and stood looking out into the busy street. "This fellow may be very clever," I said to

"There are no crimes and no criminals in these days," he said, querulously. "What is the use of having brains

in our profession. I know well that I have it in me to make my name famous. No man lives or has ever lived

who has brought the same amount of study and of natural talent to the detection of crime which I have done.

And what is the result? There is no crime to detect, or, at most, some bungling villany with a motive so

I was still annoyed at his bumptious style of conversation. I thought it best to change the topic.

"I wonder what that fellow is looking for?" I asked, pointing to a stalwart, plainlydressed individual who

was walking slowly down the other side of the street, looking anxiously at the numbers. He had a large blue

"Brag and bounce!" thought I to myself. "He knows that I cannot verify his guess."

The thought had hardly passed through my mind when the man whom we were watching caught sight of the

number on our door, and ran rapidly across the roadway. We heard a loud knock, a deep voice below, and

"For Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he said, stepping into the room and handing my friend the letter.

Here was an opportunity of taking the conceit out of him. He little thought of this when he made that random

shot. "May I ask, my lad," I said, in the blandest voice, "what your trade may be?"

I CONFESS that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion's

theories. My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurking

suspicion in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a prearranged episode, intended to dazzle me,

though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension. When I looked at him

he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lacklustre expression which showed

"I have no time for trifles," he answered, brusquely; then with a smile, "Excuse my rudeness. You broke the

thread of my thoughts; but perhaps it is as well. So you actually were not able to see that that man was a

"It was easier to know it than to explain why I knew it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made

four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could see a

great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fellow's hand. That smacked of the sea. He had a military

carriage, however, and regulation side whiskers. There we have the marine. He was a man with some amount

of selfimportance and a certain air of command. You must have observed the way in which he held his head

and swung his cane. A steady, respectable, middleaged man, too, on the face of him all facts which led

"Commonplace," said Holmes, though I thought from his expression that he was pleased at my evident

surprise and admiration. "I said just now that there were no criminals. It appears that I am wrong look at

"It does seem to be a little out of the common," he remarked, calmly. "Would you mind reading it to me

"MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES, "There has been a bad business during the night at 3, Lauriston

Gardens, off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beat saw a light there about two in the morning, and as the

house was an empty one, suspected that something was amiss. He found the door open, and in the front room,

which is bare of furniture, discovered the body of a gentleman, well dressed, and having cards in his pocket

bearing the name of `Enoch J. Drebber, Cleveland, Ohio, U.S.A.' There had been no robbery, nor is there any

evidence as to how the man met his death. There are marks of blood in the room, but there is no wound upon

his person. We are at a loss as to how he came into the empty house; indeed, the whole affair is a puzzler. If

you can come round to the house any time before twelve, you will find me there. I have left everything in

statu quo until I hear from you. If you are unable to come I shall give you fuller details, and would esteem it a

great kindness if you would favour me with your opinion. Yours faithfully, "TOBIAS GREGSON."

"Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders," my friend remarked; "he and Lestrade are the pick of a bad

lot. They are both quick and energetic, but conventional shockingly so. They have their knives into one

another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties. There will be some fun over this case if

I was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on. "Surely there is not a moment to be lost," I cried, "shall

"I'm not sure about whether I shall go. I am the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather

"My dear fellow, what does it matter to me. Supposing I unravel the whole matter, you may be sure that

Gregson, Lestrade, and Co. will pocket all the credit. That comes of being an unofficial personage."

"Yes. He knows that I am his superior, and acknowledges it to me; but he would cut his tongue out before he

would own it to any third person. However, we may as well go and have a look. I shall work it out on my

He hustled on his overcoat, and bustled about in a way that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the

"Yes, if you have nothing better to do." A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously for the

It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a duncoloured veil hung over the housetops, looking like the

reflection of the mudcoloured streets beneath. My companion was in the best of spirits, and prattled away

about Cremona fiddles, and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati. As for myself, I was silent,

for the dull weather and the melancholy business upon which we were engaged, depressed my spirits.

"You don't seem to give much thought to the matter in hand," I said at last, interrupting Holmes' musical

"No data yet," he answered. "It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the

"You will have your data soon," I remarked, pointing with my finger; "this is the Brixton Road, and that is

"So it is. Stop, driver, stop!" We were still a hundred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alighting,

Number 3, Lauriston Gardens wore an illomened and minatory look. It was one of four which stood back

some little way from the street, two being occupied and two empty. The latter looked out with three tiers of

vacant melancholy windows, which were blank and dreary, save that here and there a "To Let" card had

developed like a cataract upon the bleared panes. A small garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of

sickly plants separated each of these houses from the street, and was traversed by a narrow pathway,

yellowish in colour, and consisting apparently of a mixture of clay and of gravel. The whole place was very

sloppy from the rain which had fallen through the night. The garden was bounded by a threefoot brick wall

with a fringe of wood rails upon the top, and against this wall was leaning a stalwart police constable,

surrounded by a small knot of loafers, who craned their necks and strained their eyes in the vain hope of

I had imagined that Sherlock Holmes would at once have hurried into the house and plunged into a study of

the mystery. Nothing appeared to be further from his intention. With an air of nonchalance which, under the

circumstances, seemed to me to border upon affectation, he lounged up and down the pavement, and gazed

vacantly at the ground, the sky, the opposite houses and the line of railings. Having finished his scrutiny, he

proceeded slowly down the path, or rather down the fringe of grass which flanked the path, keeping his eyes

riveted upon the ground. Twice he stopped, and once I saw him smile, and heard him utter an exclamation of

satisfaction. There were many marks of footsteps upon the wet clayey soil, but since the police had been

coming and going over it, I was unable to see how my companion could hope to learn anything from it. Still I

had had such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties, that I had no doubt that he

At the door of the house we were met by a tall, whitefaced, flaxenhaired man, with a notebook in his hand,

who rushed forward and wrung my companion's hand with effusion. "It is indeed kind of you to come," he

"Except that!" my friend answered, pointing at the pathway. "If a herd of buffaloes had passed along there

could not be a greater mess. No doubt, however, you had drawn your own conclusions, Gregson, before you

"I have had so much to do inside the house," the detective said evasively. "My colleague, Mr. Lestrade, is

Holmes glanced at me and raised his eyebrows sardonically. "With two such men as yourself and Lestrade

upon the ground, there will not be much for a third party to find out," he said.

Gregson rubbed his hands in a selfsatisfied way. "I think we have done all that can be done," he answered;

"Then let us go and look at the room." With which inconsequent remark he strode on into the house, followed

A short passage, bare planked and dusty, led to the kitchen and offices. Two doors opened out of it to the left

and to the right. One of these had obviously been closed for many weeks. The other belonged to the

diningroom, which was the apartment in which the mysterious affair had occurred. Holmes walked in, and I

followed him with that subdued feeling at my heart which the presence of death inspires.

It was a large square room, looking all the larger from the absence of all furniture. A vulgar flaring paper

adorned the walls, but it was blotched in places with mildew, and here and there great strips had become

detached and hung down, exposing the yellow plaster beneath. Opposite the door was a showy fireplace,

surmounted by a mantelpiece of imitation white marble. On one corner of this was stuck the stump of a red

wax candle. The solitary window was so dirty that the light was hazy and uncertain, giving a dull grey tinge

to everything, which was intensified by the thick layer of dust which coated the whole apartment.

All these details I observed afterwards. At present my attention was centred upon the single grim motionless

figure which lay stretched upon the boards, with vacant sightless eyes staring up at the discoloured ceiling. It

was that of a man about fortythree or fortyfour years of age, middlesized, broad shouldered, with crisp

curling black hair, and a short stubbly beard. He was dressed in a heavy broadcloth frock coat and waistcoat,

with lightcoloured trousers, and immaculate collar and cuffs. A top hat, well brushed and trim, was placed

upon the floor beside him. His hands were clenched and his arms thrown abroad, while his lower limbs were

interlocked as though his death struggle had been a grievous one. On his rigid face there stood an expression

of horror, and as it seemed to me, of hatred, such as I have never seen upon human features. This malignant

and terrible contortion, combined with the low forehead, blunt nose, and prognathous jaw gave the dead man

a singularly simious and apelike appearance, which was increased by his writhing, unnatural posture. I have

seen death in many forms, but never has it appeared to me in a more fearsome aspect than in that dark grimy

Lestrade, lean and ferretlike as ever, was standing by the doorway, and greeted my companion and myself.

"This case will make a stir, sir," he remarked. "It beats anything I have seen, and I am no chicken."

Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling down, examined it intently. "You are sure that there is

no wound?" he asked, pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all round.

"Then, of course, this blood belongs to a second individual presumably the murderer, if murder has been

committed. It reminds me of the circumstances attendant on the death of Van Jansen, in Utrecht, in the year

"Read it up you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before."

As he spoke, his nimble fingers were flying here, there, and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning,

examining, while his eyes wore the same faraway expression which I have already remarked upon. So

swiftly was the examination made, that one would hardly have guessed the minuteness with which it was

conducted. Finally, he sniffed the dead man's lips, and then glanced at the soles of his patent leather boots.

"You can take him to the mortuary now," he said. "There is nothing more to be learned."

Gregson had a stretcher and four men at hand. At his call they entered the room, and the stranger was lifted

and carried out. As they raised him, a ring tinkled down and rolled across the floor. Lestrade grabbed it up

He held it out, as he spoke, upon the palm of his hand. We all gathered round him and gazed at it. There

could be no doubt that that circlet of plain gold had once adorned the finger of a bride.

"This complicates matters," said Gregson. "Heaven knows, they were complicated enough before."

"You're sure it doesn't simplify them?" observed Holmes. "There's nothing to be learned by staring at it. What

"We have it all here," said Gregson, pointing to a litter of objects upon one of the bottom steps of the stairs.

"A gold watch, No. 97163, by Barraud, of London. Gold Albert chain, very heavy and solid. Gold ring, with

masonic device. Gold pin bulldog's head, with rubies as eyes. Russian leather cardcase, with cards of

Enoch J. Drebber of Cleveland, corresponding with the E. J. D. upon the linen. No purse, but loose money to

the extent of seven pounds thirteen. Pocket edition of Boccaccio's `Decameron,' with name of Joseph

Stangerson upon the flyleaf. Two letters one addressed to E. J. Drebber and one to Joseph Stangerson."

"American Exchange, Strand to be left till called for. They are both from the Guion Steamship Company,

and refer to the sailing of their boats from Liverpool. It is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return

"I did it at once, sir," said Gregson. "I have had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men

"We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that we should be glad of any information which could help

"You did not ask for particulars on any point which appeared to you to be crucial?"

"Nothing else? Is there no circumstance on which this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not telegraph

Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared to be about to make some remark, when Lestrade, who

had been in the front room while we were holding this conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene,

"Mr. Gregson," he said, "I have just made a discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have

The little man's eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having

"Come here," he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal of

I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in parts. In this particular corner of the room a large piece had

peeled off, leaving a yellow square of coarse plastering. Across this bare space there was scrawled in

"What do you think of that?" cried the detective, with the air of a showman exhibiting his show. "This was

overlooked because it was in the darkest corner of the room, and no one thought of looking there. The

murderer has written it with his or her own blood. See this smear where it has trickled down the wall! That

disposes of the idea of suicide anyhow. Why was that corner chosen to write it on? I will tell you. See that

candle on the mantelpiece. It was lit at the time, and if it was lit this corner would be the brightest instead of

"And what does it mean now that you have found it?" asked Gregson in a depreciatory voice.

"Mean? Why, it means that the writer was going to put the female name Rachel, but was disturbed before he

or she had time to finish. You mark my words, when this case comes to be cleared up you will find that a

woman named Rachel has something to do with it. It's all very well for you to laugh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

You may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is the best, when all is said and done."

"I really beg your pardon!" said my companion, who had ruffled the little man's temper by bursting into an

explosion of laughter. "You certainly have the credit of being the first of us to find this out, and, as you say, it

bears every mark of having been written by the other participant in last night's mystery. I have not had time to

As he spoke, he whipped a tape measure and a large round magnifying glass from his pocket. With these two

implements he trotted noiselessly about the room, sometimes stopping, occasionally kneeling, and once lying

flat upon his face. So engrossed was he with his occupation that he appeared to have forgotten our presence,

for he chattered away to himself under his breath the whole time, keeping up a running fire of exclamations,

groans, whistles, and little cries suggestive of encouragement and of hope. As I watched him I was irresistibly

reminded of a pureblooded welltrained foxhound as it dashes backwards and forwards through the covert,

whining in its eagerness, until it comes across the lost scent. For twenty minutes or more he continued his

researches, measuring with the most exact care the distance between marks which were entirely invisible to

me, and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an equally incomprehensible manner. In one place he

gathered up very carefully a little pile of grey dust from the floor, and packed it away in an envelope. Finally,

he examined with his glass the word upon the wall, going over every letter of it with the most minute

exactness. This done, he appeared to be satisfied, for he replaced his tape and his glass in his pocket.

"They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains," he remarked with a smile. "It's a very bad

Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manoeuvres of their amateur companion with considerable curiosity

and some contempt. They evidently failed to appreciate the fact, which I had begun to realize, that Sherlock

Holmes' smallest actions were all directed towards some definite and practical end.

"It would be robbing you of the credit of the case if I was to presume to help you," remarked my friend. "You

are doing so well now that it would be a pity for anyone to interfere." There was a world of sarcasm in his

voice as he spoke. "If you will let me know how your investigations go," he continued, "I shall be happy to

give you any help I can. In the meantime I should like to speak to the constable who found the body. Can you

Lestrade glanced at his notebook. "John Rance," he said. "He is off duty now. You will find him at 46,

"Come along, Doctor," he said; "we shall go and look him up. I'll tell you one thing which may help you in

the case," he continued, turning to the two detectives. "There has been murder done, and the murderer was a

man. He was more than six feet high, was in the prime of life, had small feet for his height, wore coarse,

squaretoed boots and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar. He came here with his victim in a fourwheeled cab,

which was drawn by a horse with three old shoes and one new one on his off fore leg. In all probability the

murderer had a florid face, and the fingernails of his right hand were remarkably long. These are only a few

"Poison," said Sherlock Holmes curtly, and strode off. "One other thing, Lestrade," he added, turning round at

the door: "`Rache,' is the German for `revenge;' so don't lose your time looking for Miss Rachel."

With which Parthian shot he walked away, leaving the two rivals openmouthed behind him.

IT was one o'clock when we left No. 3, Lauriston Gardens. Sherlock Holmes led me to the nearest telegraph

office, whence he dispatched a long telegram. He then hailed a cab, and ordered the driver to take us to the

"There is nothing like first hand evidence," he remarked; "as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made up

"You amaze me, Holmes," said I. "Surely you are not as sure as you pretend to be of all those particulars

"There's no room for a mistake," he answered. "The very first thing which I observed on arriving there was

that a cab had made two ruts with its wheels close to the curb. Now, up to last night, we have had no rain for

a week, so that those wheels which left such a deep impression must have been there during the night. There

were the marks of the horse's hoofs, too, the outline of one of which was far more clearly cut than that of the

other three, showing that that was a new shoe. Since the cab was there after the rain began, and was not there

at any time during the morning I have Gregson's word for that it follows that it must have been there

during the night, and, therefore, that it brought those two individuals to the house."

"Why, the height of a man, in nine cases out of ten, can be told from the length of his stride. It is a simple

calculation enough, though there is no use my boring you with figures. I had this fellow's stride both on the

clay outside and on the dust within. Then I had a way of checking my calculation. When a man writes on a

wall, his instinct leads him to write about the level of his own eyes. Now that writing was just over six feet

"Well, if a man can stride four and ahalf feet without the smallest effort, he can't be quite in the sere and

yellow. That was the breadth of a puddle on the garden walk which he had evidently walked across.

Patentleather boots had gone round, and Squaretoes had hopped over. There is no mystery about it at all. I

am simply applying to ordinary life a few of those precepts of observation and deduction which I advocated

"The writing on the wall was done with a man's forefinger dipped in blood. My glass allowed me to observe

that the plaster was slightly scratched in doing it, which would not have been the case if the man's nail had

been trimmed. I gathered up some scattered ash from the floor. It was dark in colour and flakey such an

ash as is only made by a Trichinopoly. I have made a special study of cigar ashes in fact, I have written a

monograph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand,

either of cigar or of tobacco. It is just in such details that the skilled detective differs from the Gregson and

"Ah, that was a more daring shot, though I have no doubt that I was right. You must not ask me that at the

I passed my hand over my brow. "My head is in a whirl," I remarked; "the more one thinks of it the more

mysterious it grows. How came these two men if there were two men into an empty house? What has

become of the cabman who drove them? How could one man compel another to take poison? Where did the

blood come from? What was the object of the murderer, since robbery had no part in it? How came the

woman's ring there? Above all, why should the second man write up the German word RACHE before

decamping? I confess that I cannot see any possible way of reconciling all these facts."

"You sum up the difficulties of the situation succinctly and well," he said. "There is much that is still obscure,

though I have quite made up my mind on the main facts. As to poor Lestrade's discovery it was simply a

blind intended to put the police upon a wrong track, by suggesting Socialism and secret societies. It was not

done by a German. The A, if you noticed, was printed somewhat after the German fashion. Now, a real

German invariably prints in the Latin character, so that we may safely say that this was not written by one,

but by a clumsy imitator who overdid his part. It was simply a ruse to divert inquiry into a wrong channel. I'm

not going to tell you much more of the case, Doctor. You know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has

explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion

"I shall never do that," I answered; "you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had

already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.

"I'll tell you one other thing," he said. "Patent leathers and Squaretoes came in the same cab, and they

walked down the pathway together as friendly as possible arminarm, in all probability. When they got

inside they walked up and down the room or rather, Patentleathers stood still while Squaretoes walked

up and down. I could read all that in the dust; and I could read that as he walked he grew more and more

excited. That is shown by the increased length of his strides. He was talking all the while, and working

himself up, no doubt, into a fury. Then the tragedy occurred. I've told you all I know myself now, for the rest

is mere surmise and conjecture. We have a good working basis, however, on which to start. We must hurry

This conversation had occurred while our cab had been threading its way through a long succession of dingy

streets and dreary byways. In the dingiest and dreariest of them our driver suddenly came to a stand. "That's

Audley Court in there," he said, pointing to a narrow slit in the line of deadcoloured brick. "You'll find me

Audley Court was not an attractive locality. The narrow passage led us into a quadrangle paved with flags

and lined by sordid dwellings. We picked our way among groups of dirty children, and through lines of

discoloured linen, until we came to Number 46, the door of which was decorated with a small slip of brass on

which the name Rance was engraved. On enquiry we found that the constable was in bed, and we were shown

He appeared presently, looking a little irritable at being disturbed in his slumbers. "I made my report at the

Holmes took a halfsovereign from his pocket and played with it pensively. "We thought that we should like

"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I can," the constable answered with his eyes upon the little golden

Rance sat down on the horsehair sofa, and knitted his brows as though determined not to omit anything in his

"I'll tell it ye from the beginning," he said. "My time is from ten at night to six in the morning. At eleven there

was a fight at the `White Hart'; but bar that all was quiet enough on the beat. At one o'clock it began to rain,

and I met Harry Murcher him who has the Holland Grove beat and we stood together at the corner of

Henrietta Street atalkin'. Presently maybe about two or a little after I thought I would take a look

round and see that all was right down the Brixton Road. It was precious dirty and lonely. Not a soul did I

meet all the way down, though a cab or two went past me. I was a strollin' down, thinkin' between ourselves

how uncommon handy a four of gin hot would be, when suddenly the glint of a light caught my eye in the

window of that same house. Now, I knew that them two houses in Lauriston Gardens was empty on account

of him that owns them who won't have the drains seed to, though the very last tenant what lived in one of

them died o' typhoid fever. I was knocked all in a heap therefore at seeing a light in the window, and I

"You stopped, and then walked back to the garden gate," my companion interrupted. "What did you do that

Rance gave a violent jump, and stared at Sherlock Holmes with the utmost amazement upon his features.

"Why, that's true, sir," he said; "though how you come to know it, Heaven only knows. Ye see, when I got up

to the door it was so still and so lonesome, that I thought I'd be none the worse for some one with me. I ain't

afeared of anything on this side o' the grave; but I thought that maybe it was him that died o' the typhoid

inspecting the drains what killed him. The thought gave me a kind o' turn, and I walked back to the gate to

see if I could see Murcher's lantern, but there wasn't no sign of him nor of anyone else."

"Not a livin' soul, sir, nor as much as a dog. Then I pulled myself together and went back and pushed the door

open. All was quiet inside, so I went into the room where the light was aburnin'. There was a candle

"Yes, I know all that you saw. You walked round the room several times, and you knelt down by the body,

John Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face and suspicion in his eyes. "Where was you hid to see all

Holmes laughed and threw his card across the table to the constable. "Don't get arresting me for the murder,"

he said. "I am one of the hounds and not the wolf; Mr. Gregson or Mr. Lestrade will answer for that. Go on,

Rance resumed his seat, without however losing his mystified expression. "I went back to the gate and

The constable's features broadened into a grin. "I've seen many a drunk chap in my time," he said, "but never

anyone so cryin' drunk as that cove. He was at the gate when I came out, aleanin' up agin the railings, and

asingin' at the pitch o' his lungs about Columbine's Newfangled Banner, or some such stuff. He couldn't

John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated at this digression. "He was an uncommon drunk sort o' man,"

"I should think I did notice them, seeing that I had to prop him up me and Murcher between us. He was a

"We'd enough to do without lookin' after him," the policeman said, in an aggrieved voice. "I'll wager he

"He must have left it behind," muttered my companion. "You didn't happen to see or hear a cab after that?"

"There's a halfsovereign for you," my companion said, standing up and taking his hat. "I am afraid, Rance,

that you will never rise in the force. That head of yours should be for use as well as ornament. You might

have gained your sergeant's stripes last night. The man whom you held in your hands is the man who holds

the clue of this mystery, and whom we are seeking. There is no use of arguing about it now; I tell you that it

We started off for the cab together, leaving our informant incredulous, but obviously uncomfortable.

"The blundering fool," Holmes said, bitterly, as we drove back to our lodgings. "Just to think of his having

"I am rather in the dark still. It is true that the description of this man tallies with your idea of the second

party in this mystery. But why should he come back to the house after leaving it? That is not the way of

"The ring, man, the ring: that was what he came back for. If we have no other way of catching him, we can

always bait our line with the ring. I shall have him, Doctor I'll lay you two to one that I have him. I must

thank you for it all. I might not have gone but for you, and so have missed the finest study I ever came across:

a study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn't we use a little art jargon. There's the scarlet thread of murder running

through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.

And now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda. Her attack and her bowing are splendid. What's that little

Leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound carolled away like a lark while I meditated upon the

OUR morning's exertions had been too much for my weak health, and I was tired out in the afternoon. After

Holmes' departure for the concert, I lay down upon the sofa and endeavoured to get a couple of hours' sleep.

It was a useless attempt. My mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred, and the strangest

fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every time that I closed my eyes I saw before me the distorted

baboonlike countenance of the murdered man. So sinister was the impression which that face had produced

upon me that I found it difficult to feel anything but gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the

world. If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were certainly those of Enoch J.

Drebber, of Cleveland. Still I recognized that justice must be done, and that the depravity of the victim was

The more I thought of it the more extraordinary did my companion's hypothesis, that the man had been

poisoned, appear. I remembered how he had sniffed his lips, and had no doubt that he had detected something

which had given rise to the idea. Then, again, if not poison, what had caused the man's death, since there was

neither wound nor marks of strangulation? But, on the other hand, whose blood was that which lay so thickly

upon the floor? There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the victim any weapon with which he might have

wounded an antagonist. As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt that sleep would be no easy

matter, either for Holmes or myself. His quiet selfconfident manner convinced me that he had already

formed a theory which explained all the facts, though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture.

He was very late in returning so late, that I knew that the concert could not have detained him all the time.

"It was magnificent," he said, as he took his seat. "Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He

claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power

of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in

"One's ideas must be as broad as Nature if they are to interpret Nature," he answered. "What's the matter?

"To tell the truth, it has," I said. "I ought to be more casehardened after my Afghan experiences. I saw my

"I can understand. There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination; where there is no

"It gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does not mention the fact that when the man was raised up, a

"Look at this advertisement," he answered. "I had one sent to every paper this morning immediately after the

He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place indicated. It was the first announcement in the

"Found" column. "In Brixton Road, this morning," it ran, "a plain gold wedding ring, found in the roadway

between the `White Hart' Tavern and Holland Grove. Apply Dr. Watson, 221B, Baker Street, between eight

"Excuse my using your name," he said. "If I used my own some of these dunderheads would recognize it, and

"That is all right," I answered. "But supposing anyone applies, I have no ring."

"Oh yes, you have," said he, handing me one. "This will do very well. It is almost a facsimile."

"Why, the man in the brown coat our florid friend with the square toes. If he does not come himself he

"Not at all. If my view of the case is correct, and I have every reason to believe that it is, this man would

rather risk anything than lose the ring. According to my notion he dropped it while stooping over Drebber's

body, and did not miss it at the time. After leaving the house he discovered his loss and hurried back, but

found the police already in possession, owing to his own folly in leaving the candle burning. He had to

pretend to be drunk in order to allay the suspicions which might have been aroused by his appearance at the

gate. Now put yourself in that man's place. On thinking the matter over, it must have occurred to him that it

was possible that he had lost the ring in the road after leaving the house. What would he do, then? He would

eagerly look out for the evening papers in the hope of seeing it among the articles found. His eye, of course,

would light upon this. He would be overjoyed. Why should he fear a trap? There would be no reason in his

eyes why the finding of the ring should be connected with the murder. He would come. He will come. You

"You had better clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man, and though I shall take him unawares, it is as

I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared,

"The plot thickens," he said, as I entered; "I have just had an answer to my American telegram. My view of

"My fiddle would be the better for new strings," he remarked. "Put your pistol in your pocket. When the

fellow comes speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest to me. Don't frighten him by looking at him too

"Yes. He will probably be here in a few minutes. Open the door slightly. That will do. Now put the key on the

inside. Thank you! This is a queer old book I picked up at a stall yesterday `De Jure inter Gentes'

published in Latin at Liege in the Lowlands, in 1642. Charles' head was still firm on his shoulders when this

"Philippe de Croy, whoever he may have been. On the flyleaf, in very faded ink, is written `Ex libris

Guliolmi Whyte.' I wonder who William Whyte was. Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I

As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell. Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the

direction of the door. We heard the servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of the latch as she opened

"Does Dr. Watson live here?" asked a clear but rather harsh voice. We could not hear the servant's reply, but

the door closed, and some one began to ascend the stairs. The footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one. A

look of surprise passed over the face of my companion as he listened to it. It came slowly along the passage,

At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled

into the apartment. She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, and after dropping a curtsey, she

stood blinking at us with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous, shaky fingers. I glanced

at my companion, and his face had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all I could do to keep

The old crone drew out an evening paper, and pointed at our advertisement. "It's this as has brought me, good

gentlemen," she said, dropping another curtsey; "a gold wedding ring in the Brixton Road. It belongs to my

girl Sally, as was married only this time twelvemonth, which her husband is steward aboard a Union boat,

and what he'd say if he come 'ome and found her without her ring is more than I can think, he being short

enough at the best o' times, but more especially when he has the drink. If it please you, she went to the circus

"The Lord be thanked!" cried the old woman; "Sally will be a glad woman this night. That's the ring."

"The Brixton Road does not lie between any circus and Houndsditch," said Sherlock Holmes sharply.

The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him from her little redrimmed eyes. "The gentleman

asked me for my address," she said. "Sally lives in lodgings at 3, Mayfield Place, Peckham."

"My name is Sawyer her's is Dennis, which Tom Dennis married her and a smart, clean lad, too, as

long as he's at sea, and no steward in the company more thought of; but when on shore, what with the women

"Here is your ring, Mrs. Sawyer," I interrupted, in obedience to a sign from my companion; "it clearly

belongs to your daughter, and I am glad to be able to restore it to the rightful owner."

With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude the old crone packed it away in her pocket, and

shuffled off down the stairs. Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet the moment that she was gone and rushed

into his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster and a cravat. "I'll follow her," he said,

hurriedly; "she must be an accomplice, and will lead me to him. Wait up for me." The hall door had hardly

slammed behind our visitor before Holmes had descended the stair. Looking through the window I could see

her walking feebly along the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little distance behind. "Either his

whole theory is incorrect," I thought to myself, "or else he will be led now to the heart of the mystery." There

was no need for him to ask me to wait up for him, for I felt that sleep was impossible until I heard the result

It was close upon nine when he set out. I had no idea how long he might be, but I sat stolidly puffing at my

pipe and skipping over the pages of Henri Murger's "Vie de Boheme." Ten o'clock passed, and I heard the

footsteps of the maid as they pattered off to bed. Eleven, and the more stately tread of the landlady passed my

door, bound for the same destination. It was close upon twelve before I heard the sharp sound of his

latchkey. The instant he entered I saw by his face that he had not been successful. Amusement and chagrin

seemed to be struggling for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried the day, and he burst into a hearty

"I wouldn't have the Scotland Yarders know it for the world," he cried, dropping into his chair; "I have

chaffed them so much that they would never have let me hear the end of it. I can afford to laugh, because I

"Oh, I don't mind telling a story against myself. That creature had gone a little way when she began to limp

and show every sign of being footsore. Presently she came to a halt, and hailed a fourwheeler which was

passing. I managed to be close to her so as to hear the address, but I need not have been so anxious, for she

sang it out loud enough to be heard at the other side of the street, `Drive to 13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch,'

she cried. This begins to look genuine, I thought, and having seen her safely inside, I perched myself behind.

That's an art which every detective should be an expert at. Well, away we rattled, and never drew rein until

we reached the street in question. I hopped off before we came to the door, and strolled down the street in an

easy, lounging way. I saw the cab pull up. The driver jumped down, and I saw him open the door and stand

expectantly. Nothing came out though. When I reached him he was groping about frantically in the empty

cab, and giving vent to the finest assorted collection of oaths that ever I listened to. There was no sign or trace

of his passenger, and I fear it will be some time before he gets his fare. On inquiring at Number 13 we found

that the house belonged to a respectable paperhanger, named Keswick, and that no one of the name either of

"You don't mean to say," I cried, in amazement, "that that tottering, feeble old woman was able to get out of

"Old woman be damned!" said Sherlock Holmes, sharply. "We were the old women to be so taken in. It must

have been a young man, and an active one, too, besides being an incomparable actor. The getup was

inimitable. He saw that he was followed, no doubt, and used this means of giving me the slip. It shows that

the man we are after is not as lonely as I imagined he was, but has friends who are ready to risk something for

I was certainly feeling very weary, so I obeyed his injunction. I left Holmes seated in front of the smouldering

fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that

he was still pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself to unravel.

THE papers next day were full of the "Brixton Mystery," as they termed it. Each had a long account of the

affair, and some had leaders upon it in addition. There was some information in them which was new to me. I

still retain in my scrapbook numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case. Here is a condensation

The Daily Telegraph remarked that in the history of crime there had seldom been a tragedy which presented

stranger features. The German name of the victim, the absence of all other motive, and the sinister inscription

on the wall, all pointed to its perpetration by political refugees and revolutionists. The Socialists had many

branches in America, and the deceased had, no doubt, infringed their unwritten laws, and been tracked down

by them. After alluding airily to the Vehmgericht, aqua tofana, Carbonari, the Marchioness de Brinvilliers,

the Darwinian theory, the principles of Malthus, and the Ratcliff Highway murders, the article concluded by

admonishing the Government and advocating a closer watch over foreigners in England.

The Standard commented upon the fact that lawless outrages of the sort usually occurred under a Liberal

Administration. They arose from the unsettling of the minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening of

all authority. The deceased was an American gentleman who had been residing for some weeks in the

Metropolis. He had stayed at the boardinghouse of Madame Charpentier, in Torquay Terrace, Camberwell.

He was accompanied in his travels by his private secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The two bade adieu to

their landlady upon Tuesday, the 4th inst., and departed to Euston Station with the avowed intention of

catching the Liverpool express. They were afterwards seen together upon the platform. Nothing more is

known of them until Mr. Drebber's body was, as recorded, discovered in an empty house in the Brixton Road,

many miles from Euston. How he came there, or how he met his fate, are questions which are still involved in

mystery. Nothing is known of the whereabouts of Stangerson. We are glad to learn that Mr. Lestrade and Mr.

Gregson, of Scotland Yard, are both engaged upon the case, and it is confidently anticipated that these

The Daily News observed that there was no doubt as to the crime being a political one. The despotism and

hatred of Liberalism which animated the Continental Governments had had the effect of driving to our shores

a number of men who might have made excellent citizens were they not soured by the recollection of all that

they had undergone. Among these men there was a stringent code of honour, any infringement of which was

punished by death. Every effort should be made to find the secretary, Stangerson, and to ascertain some

particulars of the habits of the deceased. A great step had been gained by the discovery of the address of the

house at which he had boarded a result which was entirely due to the acuteness and energy of Mr.

Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him

"I told you that, whatever happened, Lestrade and Gregson would be sure to score."

"Oh, bless you, it doesn't matter in the least. If the man is caught, it will be on account of their exertions; if he

escapes, it will be in spite of their exertions. It's heads I win and tails you lose. Whatever they do, they will

"What on earth is this?" I cried, for at this moment there came the pattering of many steps in the hall and on

the stairs, accompanied by audible expressions of disgust upon the part of our landlady.

"It's the Baker Street division of the detective police force," said my companion, gravely; and as he spoke

there rushed into the room half a dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street Arabs that ever I clapped eyes

"'Tention!" cried Holmes, in a sharp tone, and the six dirty little scoundrels stood in a line like so many

disreputable statuettes. "In future you shall send up Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait in

"I hardly expected you would. You must keep on until you do. Here are your wages. He handed each of them

He waved his hand, and they scampered away downstairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices

"There's more work to be got out of one of those little beggars than out of a dozen of the force," Holmes

remarked. "The mere sight of an officiallooking person seals men's lips. These youngsters, however, go

everywhere and hear everything. They are as sharp as needles, too; all they want is organisation."

"Yes; there is a point which I wish to ascertain. It is merely a matter of time. Hullo! we are going to hear

some news now with a vengeance! Here is Gregson coming down the road with beatitude written upon every

There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few seconds the fairhaired detective came up the stairs, three

"My dear fellow," he cried, wringing Holmes' unresponsive hand, "congratulate me! I have made the whole

"Arthur Charpentier, sublieutenant in Her Majesty's navy," cried Gregson, pompously, rubbing his fat hands

"Take a seat, and try one of these cigars," he said. "We are anxious to know how you managed it. Will you

"I don't mind if I do," the detective answered. "The tremendous exertions which I have gone through during

the last day or two have worn me out. Not so much bodily exertion, you understand, as the strain upon the

mind. You will appreciate that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for we are both brainworkers."

"You do me too much honour," said Holmes, gravely. "Let us hear how you arrived at this most gratifying

The detective seated himself in the armchair, and puffed complacently at his cigar. Then suddenly he

"The fun of it is," he cried, "that that fool Lestrade, who thinks himself so smart, has gone off upon the wrong

track altogether. He is after the secretary Stangerson, who had no more to do with the crime than the babe

"Ah, I'll tell you all about it. Of course, Doctor Watson, this is strictly between ourselves. The first difficulty

which we had to contend with was the finding of this American's antecedents. Some people would have

waited until their advertisements were answered, or until parties came forward and volunteered information.

That is not Tobias Gregson's way of going to work. You remember the hat beside the dead man?"

"Ha!" cried Gregson, in a relieved voice; "you should never neglect a chance, however small it may seem."

"Well, I went to Underwood, and asked him if he had sold a hat of that size and description. He looked over

his books, and came on it at once. He had sent the hat to a Mr. Drebber, residing at Charpentier's Boarding

"I next called upon Madame Charpentier," continued the detective. "I found her very pale and distressed. Her

daughter was in the room, too an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes and

her lips trembled as I spoke to her. That didn't escape my notice. I began to smell a rat. You know the feeling,

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon the right scent a kind of thrill in your nerves. `Have you

heard of the mysterious death of your late boarder Mr. Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland?' I asked.

"The mother nodded. She didn't seem able to get out a word. The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than

"`At eight o'clock,' she said, gulping in her throat to keep down her agitation. `His secretary, Mr. Stangerson,

said that there were two trains one at 9.15 and one at 11. He was to catch the first.

"A terrible change came over the woman's face as I asked the question. Her features turned perfectly livid. It

was some seconds before she could get out the single word `Yes' and when it did come it was in a husky

"There was silence for a moment, and then the daughter spoke in a calm clear voice.

"`No good can ever come of falsehood, mother,' she said. `Let us be frank with this gentleman. We did see

"`God forgive you!' cried Madame Charpentier, throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. `You

"`You had best tell me all about it now,' I said. `Halfconfidences are worse than none. Besides, you do not

"`On your head be it, Alice!' cried her mother; and then, turning to me, `I will tell you all, sir. Do not imagine

that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible

affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may

appear to be compromised. That however is surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his

"`Your best way is to make a clean breast of the facts,' I answered. `Depend upon it, if your son is innocent he

"`Perhaps, Alice, you had better leave us together,' she said, and her daughter withdrew. `Now, sir,' she

continued, `I had no intention of telling you all this, but since my poor daughter has disclosed it I have no

alternative. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all without omitting any particular.'

"`Mr. Drebber has been with us nearly three weeks. He and his secretary, Mr. Stangerson, had been travelling

on the Continent. I noticed a "Copenhagen" label upon each of their trunks, showing that that had been their

last stopping place. Stangerson was a quiet reserved man, but his employer, I am sorry to say, was far

otherwise. He was coarse in his habits and brutish in his ways. The very night of his arrival he became very

much the worse for drink, and, indeed, after twelve o'clock in the day he could hardly ever be said to be

sober. His manners towards the maidservants were disgustingly free and familiar. Worst of all, he speedily

assumed the same attitude towards my daughter, Alice, and spoke to her more than once in a way which,

fortunately, she is too innocent to understand. On one occasion he actually seized her in his arms and

embraced her an outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him for his unmanly conduct.'

"`But why did you stand all this,' I asked. `I suppose that you can get rid of your boarders when you wish.'

"Mrs. Charpentier blushed at my pertinent question. `Would to God that I had given him notice on the very

day that he came,' she said. `But it was a sore temptation. They were paying a pound a day each fourteen

pounds a week, and this is the slack season. I am a widow, and my boy in the Navy has cost me much. I

grudged to lose the money. I acted for the best. This last was too much, however, and I gave him notice to

"`My heart grew light when I saw him drive away. My son is on leave just now, but I did not tell him

anything of all this, for his temper is violent, and he is passionately fond of his sister. When I closed the door

behind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. Alas, in less than an hour there was a ring at the bell,

and I learned that Mr. Drebber had returned. He was much excited, and evidently the worse for drink. He

forced his way into the room, where I was sitting with my daughter, and made some incoherent remark about

having missed his train. He then turned to Alice, and before my very face, proposed to her that she should fly

with him. "You are of age," he said, "and there is no law to stop you. I have money enough and to spare.

Never mind the old girl here, but come along with me now straight away. You shall live like a princess." Poor

Alice was so frightened that she shrunk away from him, but he caught her by the wrist and endeavoured to

draw her towards the door. I screamed, and at that moment my son Arthur came into the room. What

happened then I do not know. I heard oaths and the confused sounds of a scuffle. I was too terrified to raise

my head. When I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand. "I don't

think that fine fellow will trouble us again," he said. "I will just go after him and see what he does with

himself." With those words he took his hat and started off down the street. The next morning we heard of Mr.

"This statement came from Mrs. Charpentier's lips with many gasps and pauses. At times she spoke so low

that I could hardly catch the words. I made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should

"When Mrs. Charpentier paused," the detective continued, "I saw that the whole case hung upon one point.

Fixing her with my eye in a way which I always found effective with women, I asked her at what hour her

"Of course after that there was nothing more to be done. I found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took

two officers with me, and arrested him. When I touched him on the shoulder and warned him to come quietly

with us, he answered us as bold as brass, `I suppose you are arresting me for being concerned in the death of

that scoundrel Drebber,' he said. We had said nothing to him about it, so that his alluding to it had a most

"He still carried the heavy stick which the mother described him as having with him when he followed

"Well, my theory is that he followed Drebber as far as the Brixton Road. When there, a fresh altercation arose

between them, in the course of which Drebber received a blow from the stick, in the pit of the stomach,

perhaps, which killed him without leaving any mark. The night was so wet that no one was about, so

Charpentier dragged the body of his victim into the empty house. As to the candle, and the blood, and the

writing on the wall, and the ring, they may all be so many tricks to throw the police on to the wrong scent."

"Well done!" said Holmes in an encouraging voice. "Really, Gregson, you are getting along. We shall make

"I flatter myself that I have managed it rather neatly," the detective answered proudly. "The young man

volunteered a statement, in which he said that after following Drebber some time, the latter perceived him,

and took a cab in order to get away from him. On his way home he met an old shipmate, and took a long walk

with him. On being asked where this old shipmate lived, he was unable to give any satisfactory reply. I think

the whole case fits together uncommonly well. What amuses me is to think of Lestrade, who had started off

upon the wrong scent. I am afraid he won't make much of Why, by Jove, here's the very man himself!"

It was indeed Lestrade, who had ascended the stairs while we were talking, and who now entered the room.

The assurance and jauntiness which generally marked his demeanour and dress were, however, wanting. His

face was disturbed and troubled, while his clothes were disarranged and untidy. He had evidently come with

the intention of consulting with Sherlock Holmes, for on perceiving his colleague he appeared to be

embarrassed and put out. He stood in the centre of the room, fumbling nervously with his hat and uncertain

what to do. "This is a most extraordinary case," he said at last "a most incomprehensible affair."

"Ah, you find it so, Mr. Lestrade!" cried Gregson, triumphantly. "I thought you would come to that

"The Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson," said Lestrade gravely, "was murdered at Halliday's Private Hotel

THE intelligence with which Lestrade greeted us was so momentous and so unexpected, that we were all

three fairly dumfoundered. Gregson sprang out of his chair and upset the remainder of his whiskey and water.

I stared in silence at Sherlock Holmes, whose lips were compressed and his brows drawn down over his eyes.

"It was quite thick enough before," grumbled Lestrade, taking a chair. "I seem to have dropped into a sort of

"I have just come from his room," said Lestrade. "I was the first to discover what had occurred."

"We have been hearing Gregson's view of the matter," Holmes observed. "Would you mind letting us know

"I have no objection," Lestrade answered, seating himself. "I freely confess that I was of the opinion that

Stangerson was concerned in the death of Drebber. This fresh development has shown me that I was

completely mistaken. Full of the one idea, I set myself to find out what had become of the Secretary. They

had been seen together at Euston Station about halfpast eight on the evening of the third. At two in the

morning Drebber had been found in the Brixton Road. The question which confronted me was to find out

how Stangerson had been employed between 8.30 and the time of the crime, and what had become of him

afterwards. I telegraphed to Liverpool, giving a description of the man, and warning them to keep a watch

upon the American boats. I then set to work calling upon all the hotels and lodginghouses in the vicinity of

Euston. You see, I argued that if Drebber and his companion had become separated, the natural course for the

latter would be to put up somewhere in the vicinity for the night, and then to hang about the station again next

"They would be likely to agree on some meetingplace beforehand," remarked Holmes.

"So it proved. I spent the whole of yesterday evening in making enquiries entirely without avail. This

morning I began very early, and at eight o'clock I reached Halliday's Private Hotel, in Little George Street.

On my enquiry as to whether a Mr. Stangerson was living there, they at once answered me in the affirmative.

"`No doubt you are the gentleman whom he was expecting,' they said. `He has been waiting for a gentleman

"It seemed to me that my sudden appearance might shake his nerves and lead him to say something

unguarded. The Boots volunteered to show me the room: it was on the second floor, and there was a small

corridor leading up to it. The Boots pointed out the door to me, and was about to go downstairs again when I

saw something that made me feel sickish, in spite of my twenty years' experience. From under the door there

curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandered across the passage and formed a little pool along the

skirting at the other side. I gave a cry, which brought the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it. The

door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked it in. The window of the room was

open, and beside the window, all huddled up, lay the body of a man in his nightdress. He was quite dead, and

had been for some time, for his limbs were rigid and cold. When we turned him over, the Boots recognized

him at once as being the same gentleman who had engaged the room under the name of Joseph Stangerson.

The cause of death was a deep stab in the left side, which must have penetrated the heart. And now comes the

I felt a creeping of the flesh, and a presentiment of coming horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered.

"That was it," said Lestrade, in an awestruck voice; and we were all silent for a while.

There was something so methodical and so incomprehensible about the deeds of this unknown assassin, that

it imparted a fresh ghastliness to his crimes. My nerves, which were steady enough on the field of battle

"The man was seen," continued Lestrade. "A milk boy, passing on his way to the dairy, happened to walk

down the lane which leads from the mews at the back of the hotel. He noticed that a ladder, which usually lay

there, was raised against one of the windows of the second floor, which was wide open. After passing, he

looked back and saw a man descend the ladder. He came down so quietly and openly that the boy imagined

him to be some carpenter or joiner at work in the hotel. He took no particular notice of him, beyond thinking

in his own mind that it was early for him to be at work. He has an impression that the man was tall, had a

reddish face, and was dressed in a long, brownish coat. He must have stayed in the room some little time after

the murder, for we found bloodstained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks on the

I glanced at Holmes on hearing the description of the murderer, which tallied so exactly with his own. There

"Did you find nothing in the room which could furnish a clue to the murderer?" he asked.

"Nothing. Stangerson had Drebber's purse in his pocket, but it seems that this was usual, as he did all the

paying. There was eighty odd pounds in it, but nothing had been taken. Whatever the motives of these

extraordinary crimes, robbery is certainly not one of them. There were no papers or memoranda in the

murdered man's pocket, except a single telegram, dated from Cleveland about a month ago, and containing

"Nothing of any importance. The man's novel, with which he had read himself to sleep was lying upon the

bed, and his pipe was on a chair beside him. There was a glass of water on the table, and on the windowsill

"I have now in my hands," my companion said, confidently, "all the threads which have formed such a tangle.

There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts, from the time that Drebber

parted from Stangerson at the station, up to the discovery of the body of the latter, as if I had seen them with

my own eyes. I will give you a proof of my knowledge. Could you lay your hand upon those pills?"

"I have them," said Lestrade, producing a small white box; "I took them and the purse and the telegram,

intending to have them put in a place of safety at the Police Station. It was the merest chance my taking these

"Give them here," said Holmes. "Now, Doctor," turning to me, "are those ordinary pills?"

They certainly were not. They were of a pearly grey colour, small, round, and almost transparent against the

light. "From their lightness and transparency, I should imagine that they are soluble in water," I remarked.

"Precisely so," answered Holmes. "Now would you mind going down and fetching that poor little devil of a

terrier which has been bad so long, and which the landlady wanted you to put out of its pain yesterday."

I went downstairs and carried the dog upstair in my arms. It's laboured breathing and glazing eye showed that

it was not far from its end. Indeed, its snowwhite muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual

"I will now cut one of these pills in two," said Holmes, and drawing his penknife he suited the action to the

word. "One half we return into the box for future purposes. The other half I will place in this wine glass, in

which is a teaspoonful of water. You perceive that our friend, the Doctor, is right, and that it readily

"This may be very interesting," said Lestrade, in the injured tone of one who suspects that he is being laughed

at, "I cannot see, however, what it has to do with the death of Mr. Joseph Stangerson."

"Patience, my friend, patience! You will find in time that it has everything to do with it. I shall now add a

little milk to make the mixture palatable, and on presenting it to the dog we find that he laps it up readily

As he spoke he turned the contents of the wine glass into a saucer and placed it in front of the terrier, who

speedily licked it dry. Sherlock Holmes' earnest demeanour had so far convinced us that we all sat in silence,

watching the animal intently, and expecting some startling effect. None such appeared, however. The dog

continued to lie stretched upon tho cushion, breathing in a laboured way, but apparently neither the better nor

Holmes had taken out his watch, and as minute followed minute without result, an expression of the utmost

chagrin and disappointment appeared upon his features. He gnawed his lip, drummed his fingers upon the

table, and showed every other symptom of acute impatience. So great was his emotion, that I felt sincerely

sorry for him, while the two detectives smiled derisively, by no means displeased at this check which he had

"It can't be a coincidence," he cried, at last springing from his chair and pacing wildly up and down the room;

"it is impossible that it should be a mere coincidence. The very pills which I suspected in the case of Drebber

are actually found after the death of Stangerson. And yet they are inert. What can it mean? Surely my whole

chain of reasoning cannot have been false. It is impossible! And yet this wretched dog is none the worse. Ah,

I have it! I have it!" With a perfect shriek of delight he rushed to the box, cut the other pill in two, dissolved

it, added milk, and presented it to the terrier. The unfortunate creature's tongue seemed hardly to have been

moistened in it before it gave a convulsive shiver in every limb, and lay as rigid and lifeless as if it had been

Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I should have more

faith," he said; "I ought to know by this time that when a fact appears to be opposed to a long train of

deductions, it invariably proves to be capable of bearing some other interpretation. Of the two pills in that

box one was of the most deadly poison, and the other was entirely harmless. I ought to have known that

This last statement appeared to me to be so startling, that I could hardly believe that he was in his sober

senses. There was the dead dog, however, to prove that his conjecture had been correct. It seemed to me that

the mists in my own mind were gradually clearing away, and I began to have a dim, vague perception of the

"All this seems strange to you," continued Holmes, "because you failed at the beginning of the inquiry to

grasp the importance of the single real clue which was presented to you. I had the good fortune to seize upon

that, and everything which has occurred since then has served to confirm my original supposition, and,

indeed, was the logical sequence of it. Hence things which have perplexed you and made the case more

obscure, have served to enlighten me and to strengthen my conclusions. It is a mistake to confound

strangeness with mystery. The most commonplace crime is often the most mysterious because it presents no

new or special features from which deductions may be drawn. This murder would have been infinitely more

difficult to unravel had the body of the victim been simply found lying in the roadway without any of those

outre and sensational accompaniments which have rendered it remarkable. These strange details, far from

making the case more difficult, have really had the effect of making it less so."

Mr. Gregson, who had listened to this address with considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer.

"Look here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," he said, "we are all ready to acknowledge that you are a smart man, and

that you have your own methods of working. We want something more than mere theory and preaching now,

though. It is a case of taking the man. I have made my case out, and it seems I was wrong. Young Charpentier

could not have been engaged in this second affair. Lestrade went after his man, Stangerson, and it appears

that he was wrong too. You have thrown out hints here, and hints there, and seem to know more than we do,

but the time has come when we feel that we have a right to ask you straight how much you do know of the

"I cannot help feeling that Gregson is right, sir," remarked Lestrade. "We have both tried, and we have both

failed. You have remarked more than once since I have been in the room that you had all the evidence which

"Any delay in arresting the assassin," I observed, "might give him time to perpetrate some fresh atrocity."

Thus pressed by us all, Holmes showed signs of irresolution. He continued to walk up and down the room

with his head sunk on his chest and his brows drawn down, as was his habit when lost in thought.

"There will be no more murders," he said at last, stopping abruptly and facing us. "You can put that

consideration out of the question. You have asked me if I know the name of the assassin. I do. The mere

knowing of his name is a small thing, however, compared with the power of laying our hands upon him. This

I expect very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements; but it is a thing

which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man to deal with, who is supported, as I

have had occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as himself. As long as this man has no idea that

anyone can have a clue there is some chance of securing him; but if he had the slightest suspicion, he would

change his name, and vanish in an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city. Without

meaning to hurt either of your feelings, I am bound to say that I consider these men to be more than a match

for the official force, and that is why I have not asked your assistance. If I fail I shall, of course, incur all the

blame due to this omission; but that I am prepared for. At present I am ready to promise that the instant that I

can communicate with you without endangering my own combinations, I shall do so."

Gregson and Lestrade seemed to be far from satisfied by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the

detective police. The former had flushed up to the roots of his flaxen hair, while the other's beady eyes

glistened with curiosity and resentment. Neither of them had time to speak, however, before there was a tap at

the door, and the spokesman of the street Arabs, young Wiggins, introduced his insignificant and unsavoury

"Good boy," said Holmes, blandly. "Why don't you introduce this pattern at Scotland Yard?" he continued,

taking a pair of steel handcuffs from a drawer. "See how beautifully the spring works. They fasten in an

"The old pattern is good enough," remarked Lestrade, "if we can only find the man to put them on."

"Very good, very good," said Holmes, smiling. "The cabman may as well help me with my boxes. Just ask

I was surprised to find my companion speaking as though he were about to set out on a journey, since he had

not said anything to me about it. There was a small portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out and began

"Just give me a help with this buckle, cabman," he said, kneeling over his task, and never turning his head.

The fellow came forward with a somewhat sullen, defiant air, and put down his hands to assist. At that instant

there was a sharp click, the jangling of metal, and Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet again.

"Gentlemen," he cried, with flashing eyes, "let me introduce you to Mr. Jefferson Hope, the murderer of

The whole thing occurred in a moment so quickly that I had no time to realize it. I have a vivid

recollection of that instant, of Holmes' triumphant expression and the ring of his voice, of the cabman's dazed,

savage face, as he glared at the glittering handcuffs, which had appeared as if by magic upon his wrists. For a

second or two we might have been a group of statues. Then, with an inarticulate roar of fury, the prisoner

wrenched himself free from Holmes's grasp, and hurled himself through the window. Woodwork and glass

gave way before him; but before he got quite through, Gregson, Lestrade, and Holmes sprang upon him like

so many staghounds. He was dragged back into the room, and then commenced a terrific conflict. So

powerful and so fierce was he, that the four of us were shaken off again and again. He appeared to have the

convulsive strength of a man in an epileptic fit. His face and hands were terribly mangled by his passage

through the glass, but loss of blood had no effect in diminishing his resistance. It was not until Lestrade

succeeded in getting his hand inside his neckcloth and halfstrangling him that we made him realize that his

struggles were of no avail; and even then we felt no security until we had pinioned his feet as well as his

"We have his cab," said Sherlock Holmes. "It will serve to take him to Scotland Yard. And now, gentlemen,"

he continued, with a pleasant smile, "we have reached the end of our little mystery. You are very welcome to

put any questions that you like to me now, and there is no danger that I will refuse to answer them."

IN the central portion of the great North American Continent there lies an arid and repulsive desert, which for

many a long year served as a barrier against the advance of civilisation. From the Sierra Nevada to Nebraska,

and from the Yellowstone River in the north to the Colorado upon the south, is a region of desolation and

silence. Nor is Nature always in one mood throughout this grim district. It comprises snowcapped and lofty

mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. There are swiftflowing rivers which dash through jagged canons;

and there are enormous plains, which in winter are white with snow, and in summer are grey with the saline

alkali dust. They all preserve, however, the common characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery.

There are no inhabitants of this land of despair. A band of Pawnees or of Blackfeet may occasionally traverse

it in order to reach other huntinggrounds, but the hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sight of those

awesome plains, and to find themselves once more upon their prairies. The coyote skulks among the scrub,

the buzzard flaps heavily through the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear lumbers through the dark ravines, and

picks up such sustenance as it can amongst the rocks. These are the sole dwellers in the wilderness.

In the whole world there can be no more dreary view than that from the northern slope of the Sierra Blanco.

As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plainland, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and

intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes. On the extreme verge of the horizon lie a long chain

of mountain peaks, with their rugged summits flecked with snow. In this great stretch of country there is no

sign of life, nor of anything appertaining to life. There is no bird in the steelblue heaven, no movement upon

the dull, grey earth above all, there is absolute silence. Listen as one may, there is no shadow of a sound in

all that mighty wilderness; nothing but silence complete and heartsubduing silence.

It has been said there is nothing appertaining to life upon the broad plain. That is hardly true. Looking down

from the Sierra Blanco, one sees a pathway traced out across the desert, which winds away and is lost in the

extreme distance. It is rutted with wheels and trodden down by the feet of many adventurers. Here and there

there are scattered white objects which glisten in the sun, and stand out against the dull deposit of alkali.

Approach, and examine them! They are bones: some large and coarse, others smaller and more delicate. The

former have belonged to oxen, and the latter to men. For fifteen hundred miles one may trace this ghastly

caravan route by these scattered remains of those who had fallen by the wayside.

Looking down on this very scene, there stood upon the fourth of May, eighteen hundred and fortyseven, a

solitary traveller. His appearance was such that he might have been the very genius or demon of the region.

An observer would have found it difficult to say whether he was nearer to forty or to sixty. His face was lean

and haggard, and the brown parchmentlike skin was drawn tightly over the projecting bones; his long,

brown hair and beard were all flecked and dashed with white; his eyes were sunken in his head, and burned

with an unnatural lustre; while the hand which grasped his rifle was hardly more fleshy than that of a

skeleton. As he stood, he leaned upon his weapon for support, and yet his tall figure and the massive

framework of his bones suggested a wiry and vigorous constitution. His gaunt face, however, and his clothes,

which hung so baggily over his shrivelled limbs, proclaimed what it was that gave him that senile and

He had toiled painfully down the ravine, and on to this little elevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs

of water. Now the great salt plain stretched before his eyes, and the distant belt of savage mountains, without

a sign anywhere of plant or tree, which might indicate the presence of moisture. In all that broad landscape

there was no gleam of hope. North, and east, and west he looked with wild questioning eyes, and then he

realised that his wanderings had come to an end, and that there, on that barren crag, he was about to die.

"Why not here, as well as in a feather bed, twenty years hence," he muttered, as he seated himself in the

Before sitting down, he had deposited upon the ground his useless rifle, and also a large bundle tied up in a

grey shawl, which he had carried slung over his right shoulder. It appeared to be somewhat too heavy for his

strength, for in lowering it, it came down on the ground with some little violence. Instantly there broke from

the grey parcel a little moaning cry, and from it there protruded a small, scared face, with very bright brown

"Have I though," the man answered penitently, "I didn't go for to do it." As he spoke he unwrapped the grey

shawl and extricated a pretty little girl of about five years of age, whose dainty shoes and smart pink frock

with its little linen apron all bespoke a mother's care. The child was pale and wan, but her healthy arms and

"How is it now?" he answered anxiously, for she was still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the

"Kiss it and make it well," she said, with perfect gravity, shoving the injured part up to him. "That's what

"Gone, eh!" said the little girl. "Funny, she didn't say goodbye; she 'most always did if she was just goin'

over to Auntie's for tea, and now she's been away three days. Say, it's awful dry, ain't it? Ain't there no water,

"No, there ain't nothing, dearie. You'll just need to be patient awhile, and then you'll be all right. Put your

head up agin me like that, and then you'll feel bullier. It ain't easy to talk when your lips is like leather, but I

"Pretty things! fine things!" cried the little girl enthusiastically, holding up two glittering fragments of mica.

"You'll see prettier things than them soon," said the man confidently. "You just wait a bit. I was going to tell

"Well, we reckoned we'd strike another river soon, d'ye see. But there was somethin' wrong; compasses, or

map, or somethin', and it didn't turn up. Water ran out. Just except a little drop for the likes of you and and

"And you couldn't wash yourself," interrupted his companion gravely, staring up at his grimy visage.

"No, nor drink. And Mr. Bender, he was the fust to go, and then Indian Pete, and then Mrs. McGregor, and

"Then mother's a deader too," cried the little girl dropping her face in her pinafore and sobbing bitterly.

"Yes, they all went except you and me. Then I thought there was some chance of water in this direction, so I

heaved you over my shoulder and we tramped it together. It don't seem as though we've improved matters.

"Do you mean that we are going to die too?" asked the child, checking her sobs, and raising her tearstained

"Why didn't you say so before?" she said, laughing gleefully. "You gave me such a fright. Why, of course,

"And you too. I'll tell her how awful good you've been. I'll bet she meets us at the door of Heaven with a big

pitcher of water, and a lot of buckwheat cakes, hot, and toasted on both sides, like Bob and me was fond of.

"I don't know not very long." The man's eyes were fixed upon the northern horizon. In the blue vault of

the heaven there had appeared three little specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly did they

approach. They speedily resolved themselves into three large brown birds, which circled over the heads of the

two wanderers, and then settled upon some rocks which overlooked them. They were buzzards, the vultures

"Cocks and hens," cried the little girl gleefully, pointing at their illomened forms, and clapping her hands to

"In course He did," said her companion, rather startled by this unexpected question.

"He made the country down in Illinois, and He made the Missouri," the little girl continued. "I guess

somebody else made the country in these parts. It's not nearly so well done. They forgot the water and the

"It don't matter. It ain't quite regular, but He won't mind that, you bet. You say over them ones that you used

"I disremember them," he answered. "I hain't said none since I was half the height o' that gun. I guess it's

never too late. You say them out, and I'll stand by and come in on the choruses."

"Then you'll need to kneel down, and me too," she said, laying the shawl out for that purpose. "You've got to

It was a strange sight had there been anything but the buzzards to see it. Side by side on the narrow shawl

knelt the two wanderers, the little prattling child and the reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face, and

his haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloudless heaven in heartfelt entreaty to that dread

being with whom they were face to face, while the two voices the one thin and clear, the other deep and

harsh united in the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness. The prayer finished, they resumed their seat in the

shadow of the boulder until the child fell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of her protector. He watched

over her slumber for some time, but Nature proved to be too strong for him. For three days and three nights

he had allowed himself neither rest nor repose. Slowly the eyelids drooped over the tired eyes, and the head

sunk lower and lower upon the breast, until the man's grizzled beard was mixed with the gold tresses of his

Had the wanderer remained awake for another half hour a strange sight would have met his eyes. Far away on

the extreme verge of the alkali plain there rose up a little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardly to be

distinguished from the mists of the distance, but gradually growing higher and broader until it formed a solid,

welldefined cloud. This cloud continued to increase in size until it became evident that it could only be

raised by a great multitude of moving creatures. In more fertile spots the observer would have come to the

conclusion that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon the prairie land was approaching him.

This was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. As the whirl of dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon

which the two castaways were reposing, the canvascovered tilts of waggons and the figures of armed

horsemen began to show up through the haze, and the apparition revealed itself as being a great caravan upon

its journey for the West. But what a caravan! When the head of it had reached the base of the mountains, the

rear was not yet visible on the horizon. Right across the enormous plain stretched the straggling array,

waggons and carts, men on horseback, and men on foot. Innumerable women who staggered along under

burdens, and children who toddled beside the waggons or peeped out from under the white coverings. This

was evidently no ordinary party of immigrants, but rather some nomad people who had been compelled from

stress of circumstances to seek themselves a new country. There rose through the clear air a confused

clattering and rumbling from this great mass of humanity, with the creaking of wheels and the neighing of

horses. Loud as it was, it was not sufficient to rouse the two tired wayfarers above them.

At the head of the column there rode a score or more of grave ironfaced men, clad in sombre homespun

garments and armed with rifles. On reaching the base of the bluff they halted, and held a short council among

"The wells are to the right, my brothers," said one, a hardlipped, cleanshaven man with grizzly hair.

"To the right of the Sierra Blanco so we shall reach the Rio Grande," said another.

"Fear not for water," cried a third. "He who could draw it from the rocks will not now abandon His own

They were about to resume their journey when one of the youngest and keenesteyed uttered an exclamation

and pointed up at the rugged crag above them. From its summit there fluttered a little wisp of pink, showing

up hard and bright against the grey rocks behind. At the sight there was a general reining up of horses and

unslinging of guns, while fresh horsemen came galloping up to reinforce the vanguard. The word `Redskins'

"There can't be any number of Injuns here," said the elderly man who appeared to be in command. "We have

passed the Pawnees, and there are no other tribes until we cross the great mountains."

"Leave your horses below and we will await you here," the Elder answered. In a moment the young fellows

had dismounted, fastened their horses, and were ascending the precipitous slope which led up to the object

which had excited their curiosity. They advanced rapidly and noiselessly, with the confidence and dexterity

of practised scouts. The watchers from the plain below could see them flit from rock to rock until their

figures stood out against the skyline. The young man who had first given the alarm was leading them.

Suddenly his followers saw him throw up his hands, as though overcome with astonishment, and on joining

On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill there stood a single giant boulder, and against this boulder

there lay a tall man, longbearded and hardfeatured, but of an excessive thinness. His placid face and

regular breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Beside him lay a little child, with her round white arms

encircling his brown sinewy neck, and her golden haired head resting upon the breast of his velveteen tunic.

Her rosy lips were parted, showing the regular line of snowwhite teeth within, and a playful smile played

over her infantile features. Her plump little white legs terminating in white socks and neat shoes with shining

buckles, offered a strange contrast to the long shrivelled members of her companion. On the ledge of rock

above this strange couple there stood three solemn buzzards, who, at the sight of the new comers uttered

The cries of the foul birds awoke the two sleepers who stared about them in bewilderment. The man

staggered to his feet and looked down upon the plain which had been so desolate when sleep had overtaken

him, and which was now traversed by this enormous body of men and of beasts. His face assumed an

expression of incredulity as he gazed, and he passed his boney hand over his eyes. "This is what they call

delirium, I guess," he muttered. The child stood beside him, holding on to the skirt of his coat, and said

nothing but looked all round her with the wondering questioning gaze of childhood.

The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the two castaways that their appearance was no delusion.

One of them seized the little girl, and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others supported her gaunt

"My name is John Ferrier," the wanderer explained; "me and that little un are all that's left o' twentyone

"I guess she is now," the other cried, defiantly; "she's mine 'cause I saved her. No man will take her from me.

She's Lucy Ferrier from this day on. Who are you, though?" he continued, glancing with curiosity at his

"Nigh upon ten thousand," said one of the young men; "we are the persecuted children of God the chosen

"I never heard tell on him," said the wanderer. "He appears to have chosen a fair crowd of ye."

"Do not jest at that which is sacred," said the other sternly. "We are of those who believe in those sacred

writings, drawn in Egyptian letters on plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smith

at Palmyra. We have come from Nauvoo, in the State of Illinois, where we had founded our temple. We have

come to seek a refuge from the violent man and from the godless, even though it be the heart of the desert."

The name of Nauvoo evidently recalled recollections to John Ferrier. "I see," he said, "you are the Mormons."

"We do not know. The hand of God is leading us under the person of our Prophet. You must come before

They had reached the base of the hill by this time, and were surrounded by crowds of the pilgrims

palefaced meeklooking women, strong laughing children, and anxious earnesteyed men. Many were the

cries of astonishment and of commiseration which arose from them when they perceived the youth of one of

the strangers and the destitution of the other. Their escort did not halt, however, but pushed on, followed by a

great crowd of Mormons, until they reached a waggon, which was conspicuous for its great size and for the

gaudiness and smartness of its appearance. Six horses were yoked to it, whereas the others were furnished

with two, or, at most, four apiece. Beside the driver there sat a man who could not have been more than

thirty years of age, but whose massive head and resolute expression marked him as a leader. He was reading a

brownbacked volume, but as the crowd approached he laid it aside, and listened attentively to an account of

"If we take you with us," he said, in solemn words, "it can only be as believers in our own creed. We shall

have no wolves in our fold. Better far that your bones should bleach in this wilderness than that you should

prove to be that little speck of decay which in time corrupts the whole fruit. Will you come with us on these

"Guess I'll come with you on any terms," said Ferrier, with such emphasis that the grave Elders could not

"Take him, Brother Stangerson," he said, "give him food and drink, and the child likewise. Let it be your task

also to teach him our holy creed. We have delayed long enough. Forward! On, on to Zion!"

"On, on to Zion!" cried the crowd of Mormons, and the words rippled down the long caravan, passing from

mouth to mouth until they died away in a dull murmur in the far distance. With a cracking of whips and a

creaking of wheels the great waggons got into motion, and soon the whole caravan was winding along once

more. The Elder to whose care the two waifs had been committed, led them to his waggon, where a meal was

"You shall remain here," he said. "In a few days you will have recovered from your fatigues. In the

meantime, remember that now and for ever you are of our religion. Brigham Young has said it, and he has

THIS is not the place to commemorate the trials and privations endured by the immigrant Mormons before

they came to their final haven. From the shores of the Mississippi to the western slopes of the Rocky

Mountains they had struggled on with a constancy almost unparalleled in history. The savage man, and the

savage beast, hunger, thirst, fatigue, and disease every impediment which Nature could place in the way,

had all been overcome with AngloSaxon tenacity. Yet the long journey and the accumulated terrors had

shaken the hearts of the stoutest among them. There was not one who did not sink upon his knees in heartfelt

prayer when they saw the broad valley of Utah bathed in the sunlight beneath them, and learned from the lips

of their leader that this was the promised land, and that these virgin acres were to be theirs for evermore.

Young speedily proved himself to be a skilful administrator as well as a resolute chief. Maps were drawn and

charts prepared, in which the future city was sketched out. All around farms were apportioned and allotted in

proportion to the standing of each individual. The tradesman was put to his trade and the artisan to his

calling. In the town streets and squares sprang up, as if by magic. In the country there was draining and

hedging, planting and clearing, until the next summer saw the whole country golden with the wheat crop.

Everything prospered in the strange settlement. Above all, the great temple which they had erected in the

centre of the city grew ever taller and larger. From the first blush of dawn until the closing of the twilight, the

clatter of the hammer and the rasp of the saw was never absent from the monument which the immigrants

The two castaways, John Ferrier and the little girl who had shared his fortunes and had been adopted as his

daughter, accompanied the Mormons to the end of their great pilgrimage. Little Lucy Ferrier was borne along

pleasantly enough in Elder Stangerson's waggon, a retreat which she shared with the Mormon's three wives

and with his son, a headstrong forward boy of twelve. Having rallied, with the elasticity of childhood, from

the shock caused by her mother's death, she soon became a pet with the women, and reconciled herself to this

new life in her moving canvascovered home. In the meantime Ferrier having recovered from his privations,

distinguished himself as a useful guide and an indefatigable hunter. So rapidly did he gain the esteem of his

new companions, that when they reached the end of their wanderings, it was unanimously agreed that he

should be provided with as large and as fertile a tract of land as any of the settlers, with the exception of

Young himself, and of Stangerson, Kemball, Johnston, and Drebber, who were the four principal Elders.

On the farm thus acquired John Ferrier built himself a substantial loghouse, which received so many

additions in succeeding years that it grew into a roomy villa. He was a man of a practical turn of mind, keen

in his dealings and skilful with his hands. His iron constitution enabled him to work morning and evening at

improving and tilling his lands. Hence it came about that his farm and all that belonged to him prospered

exceedingly. In three years he was better off than his neighbours, in six he was welltodo, in nine he was

rich, and in twelve there were not half a dozen men in the whole of Salt Lake City who could compare with

him. From the great inland sea to the distant Wahsatch Mountains there was no name better known than that

There was one way and only one in which he offended the susceptibilities of his coreligionists. No argument

or persuasion could ever induce him to set up a female establishment after the manner of his companions. He

never gave reasons for this persistent refusal, but contented himself by resolutely and inflexibly adhering to

his determination. There were some who accused him of lukewarmness in his adopted religion, and others

who put it down to greed of wealth and reluctance to incur expense. Others, again, spoke of some early love

affair, and of a fairhaired girl who had pined away on the shores of the Atlantic. Whatever the reason,

Ferrier remained strictly celibate. In every other respect he conformed to the religion of the young settlement,

Lucy Ferrier grew up within the loghouse, and assisted her adopted father in all his undertakings. The keen

air of the mountains and the balsamic odour of the pine trees took the place of nurse and mother to the young

girl. As year succeeded to year she grew taller and stronger, her cheek more rudy, and her step more elastic.

Many a wayfarer upon the high road which ran by Ferrier's farm felt longforgotten thoughts revive in their

mind as they watched her lithe girlish figure tripping through the wheatfields, or met her mounted upon her

father's mustang, and managing it with all the ease and grace of a true child of the West. So the bud

blossomed into a flower, and the year which saw her father the richest of the farmers left her as fair a

It was not the father, however, who first discovered that the child had developed into the woman. It seldom is

in such cases. That mysterious change is too subtle and too gradual to be measured by dates. Least of all does

the maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice or the touch of a hand sets her heart thrilling within her,

and she learns, with a mixture of pride and of fear, that a new and a larger nature has awoken within her.

There are few who cannot recall that day and remember the one little incident which heralded the dawn of a

new life. In the case of Lucy Ferrier the occasion was serious enough in itself, apart from its future influence

It was a warm June morning, and the Latter Day Saints were as busy as the bees whose hive they have chosen

for their emblem. In the fields and in the streets rose the same hum of human industry. Down the dusty high

roads defiled long streams of heavilyladen mules, all heading to the west, for the gold fever had broken out

in California, and the Overland Route lay through the City of the Elect. There, too, were droves of sheep and

bullocks coming in from the outlying pasture lands, and trains of tired immigrants, men and horses equally

weary of their interminable journey. Through all this motley assemblage, threading her way with the skill of

an accomplished rider, there galloped Lucy Ferrier, her fair face flushed with the exercise and her long

chestnut hair floating out behind her. She had a commission from her father in the City, and was dashing in as

she had done many a time before, with all the fearlessness of youth, thinking only of her task and how it was

to be performed. The travelstained adventurers gazed after her in astonishment, and even the unemotional

Indians, journeying in with their pelties, relaxed their accustomed stoicism as they marvelled at the beauty of

She had reached the outskirts of the city when she found the road blocked by a great drove of cattle, driven

by a halfdozen wildlooking herdsmen from the plains. In her impatience she endeavoured to pass this

obstacle by pushing her horse into what appeared to be a gap. Scarcely had she got fairly into it, however,

before the beasts closed in behind her, and she found herself completely imbedded in the moving stream of

fierceeyed, longhorned bullocks. Accustomed as she was to deal with cattle, she was not alarmed at her

situation, but took advantage of every opportunity to urge her horse on in the hopes of pushing her way

through the cavalcade. Unfortunately the horns of one of the creatures, either by accident or design, came in

violent contact with the flank of the mustang, and excited it to madness. In an instant it reared up upon its

hind legs with a snort of rage, and pranced and tossed in a way that would have unseated any but a most

skilful rider. The situation was full of peril. Every plunge of the excited horse brought it against the horns

again, and goaded it to fresh madness. It was all that the girl could do to keep herself in the saddle, yet a slip

would mean a terrible death under the hoofs of the unwieldy and terrified animals. Unaccustomed to sudden

emergencies, her head began to swim, and her grip upon the bridle to relax. Choked by the rising cloud of

dust and by the steam from the struggling creatures, she might have abandoned her efforts in despair, but for

a kindly voice at her elbow which assured her of assistance. At the same moment a sinewy brown hand

caught the frightened horse by the curb, and forcing a way through the drove, soon brought her to the

She looked up at his dark, fierce face, and laughed saucily. "I'm awful frightened," she said, naively;

"whoever would have thought that Poncho would have been so scared by a lot of cows?"

"Thank God you kept your seat," the other said earnestly. He was a tall, savagelooking young fellow,

mounted on a powerful roan horse, and clad in the rough dress of a hunter, with a long rifle slung over his

shoulders. "I guess you are the daughter of John Ferrier," he remarked, "I saw you ride down from his house.

When you see him, ask him if he remembers the Jefferson Hopes of St. Louis. If he's the same Ferrier, my

The young fellow seemed pleased at the suggestion, and his dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. "I'll do so," he

said, "we've been in the mountains for two months, and are not over and above in visiting condition. He must

"He has a good deal to thank you for, and so have I," she answered, "he's awful fond of me. If those cows had

"You! Well, I don't see that it would make much matter to you, anyhow. You ain't even a friend of ours."

The young hunter's dark face grew so gloomy over this remark that Lucy Ferrier laughed aloud.

"There, I didn't mean that," she said; "of course, you are a friend now. You must come and see us. Now I

"Goodbye," he answered, raising his broad sombrero, and bending over her little hand. She wheeled her

mustang round, gave it a cut with her ridingwhip, and darted away down the broad road in a rolling cloud of

Young Jefferson Hope rode on with his companions, gloomy and taciturn. He and they had been among the

Nevada Mountains prospecting for silver, and were returning to Salt Lake City in the hope of raising capital

enough to work some lodes which they had discovered. He had been as keen as any of them upon the

business until this sudden incident had drawn his thoughts into another channel. The sight of the fair young

girl, as frank and wholesome as the Sierra breezes, had stirred his volcanic, untamed heart to its very depths.

When she had vanished from his sight, he realized that a crisis had come in his life, and that neither silver

speculations nor any other questions could ever be of such importance to him as this new and allabsorbing

one. The love which had sprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable fancy of a boy, but rather the

wild, fierce passion of a man of strong will and imperious temper. He had been accustomed to succeed in all

that he undertook. He swore in his heart that he would not fail in this if human effort and human perseverance

He called on John Ferrier that night, and many times again, until his face was a familiar one at the

farmhouse. John, cooped up in the valley, and absorbed in his work, had had little chance of learning the

news of the outside world during the last twelve years. All this Jefferson Hope was able to tell him, and in a

style which interested Lucy as well as her father. He had been a pioneer in California, and could narrate many

a strange tale of fortunes made and fortunes lost in those wild, halcyon days. He had been a scout too, and a

trapper, a silver explorer, and a ranchman. Wherever stirring adventures were to be had, Jefferson Hope had

been there in search of them. He soon became a favourite with the old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his

virtues. On such occasions, Lucy was silent, but her blushing cheek and her bright, happy eyes, showed only

too clearly that her young heart was no longer her own. Her honest father may not have observed these

symptoms, but they were assuredly not thrown away upon the man who had won her affections.

It was a summer evening when he came galloping down the road and pulled up at the gate. She was at the

doorway, and came down to meet him. He threw the bridle over the fence and strode up the pathway.

"I am off, Lucy," he said, taking her two hands in his, and gazing tenderly down into her face; "I won't ask

"A couple of months at the outside. I will come and claim you then, my darling. There's no one who can

"He has given his consent, provided we get these mines working all right. I have no fear on that head."

"Oh, well; of course, if you and father have arranged it all, there's no more to be said," she whispered, with

"Thank God!" he said, hoarsely, stooping and kissing her. "It is settled, then. The longer I stay, the harder it

will be to go. They are waiting for me at the canon. Goodbye, my own darling goodbye. In two months

He tore himself from her as he spoke, and, flinging himself upon his horse, galloped furiously away, never

even looking round, as though afraid that his resolution might fail him if he took one glance at what he was

leaving. She stood at the gate, gazing after him until he vanished from her sight. Then she walked back into

THREE weeks had passed since Jefferson Hope and his comrades had departed from Salt Lake City. John

Ferrier's heart was sore within him when he thought of the young man's return, and of the impending loss of

his adopted child. Yet her bright and happy face reconciled him to the arrangement more than any argument

could have done. He had always determined, deep down in his resolute heart, that nothing would ever induce

him to allow his daughter to wed a Mormon. Such a marriage he regarded as no marriage at all, but as a

shame and a disgrace. Whatever he might think of the Mormon doctrines, upon that one point he was

inflexible. He had to seal his mouth on the subject, however, for to express an unorthodox opinion was a

Yes, a dangerous matter so dangerous that even the most saintly dared only whisper their religious

opinions with bated breath, lest something which fell from their lips might be misconstrued, and bring down

a swift retribution upon them. The victims of persecution had now turned persecutors on their own account,

and persecutors of the most terrible description. Not the Inquisition of Seville, nor the German

Vehmgericht, nor the Secret Societies of Italy, were ever able to put a more formidable machinery in motion

Its invisibility, and the mystery which was attached to it, made this organization doubly terrible. It appeared

to be omniscient and omnipotent, and yet was neither seen nor heard. The man who held out against the

Church vanished away, and none knew whither he had gone or what had befallen him. His wife and his

children awaited him at home, but no father ever returned to tell them how he had fared at the hands of his

secret judges. A rash word or a hasty act was followed by annihilation, and yet none knew what the nature

might be of this terrible power which was suspended over them. No wonder that men went about in fear and

trembling, and that even in the heart of the wilderness they dared not whisper the doubts which oppressed

At first this vague and terrible power was exercised only upon the recalcitrants who, having embraced the

Mormon faith, wished afterwards to pervert or to abandon it. Soon, however, it took a wider range. The

supply of adult women was running short, and polygamy without a female population on which to draw was

a barren doctrine indeed. Strange rumours began to be bandied about rumours of murdered immigrants

and rifled camps in regions where Indians had never been seen. Fresh women appeared in the harems of the

Elders women who pined and wept, and bore upon their faces the traces of an unextinguishable horror.

Belated wanderers upon the mountains spoke of gangs of armed men, masked, stealthy, and noiseless, who

flitted by them in the darkness. These tales and rumours took substance and shape, and were corroborated and

recorroborated, until they resolved themselves into a definite name. To this day, in the lonely ranches of the

West, the name of the Danite Band, or the Avenging Angels, is a sinister and an illomened one.

Fuller knowledge of the organization which produced such terrible results served to increase rather than to

lessen the horror which it inspired in the minds of men. None knew who belonged to this ruthless society.

The names of the participators in the deeds of blood and violence done under the name of religion were kept

profoundly secret. The very friend to whom you communicated your misgivings as to the Prophet and his

mission, might be one of those who would come forth at night with fire and sword to exact a terrible

reparation. Hence every man feared his neighbour, and none spoke of the things which were nearest his heart.

One fine morning, John Ferrier was about to set out to his wheatfields, when he heard the click of the latch,

and, looking through the window, saw a stout, sandyhaired, middleaged man coming up the pathway. His

heart leapt to his mouth, for this was none other than the great Brigham Young himself. Full of trepidation

for he knew that such a visit boded him little good Ferrier ran to the door to greet the Mormon chief. The

latter, however, received his salutations coldly, and followed him with a stern face into the sittingroom.

"Brother Ferrier," he said, taking a seat, and eyeing the farmer keenly from under his lightcoloured

eyelashes, "the true believers have been good friends to you. We picked you up when you were starving in

the desert, we shared our food with you, led you safe to the Chosen Valley, gave you a goodly share of land,

"In return for all this we asked but one condition: that was, that you should embrace the true faith, and

conform in every way to its usages. This you promised to do, and this, if common report says truly, you have

"And how have I neglected it?" asked Ferrier, throwing out his hands in expostulation. "Have I not given to

"Where are your wives?" asked Young, looking round him. "Call them in, that I may greet them."

"It is true that I have not married," Ferrier answered. "But women were few, and there were many who had

better claims than I. I was not a lonely man: I had my daughter to attend to my wants."

"It is of that daughter that I would speak to you," said the leader of the Mormons. "She has grown to be the

flower of Utah, and has found favour in the eyes of many who are high in the land."

"There are stories of her which I would fain disbelieve stories that she is sealed to some Gentile. This

must be the gossip of idle tongues. What is the thirteenth rule in the code of the sainted Joseph Smith? `Let

every maiden of the true faith marry one of the elect; for if she wed a Gentile, she commits a grievous sin.'

This being so, it is impossible that you, who profess the holy creed, should suffer your daughter to violate it."

"Upon this one point your whole faith shall be tested so it has been decided in the Sacred Council of Four.

The girl is young, and we would not have her wed grey hairs, neither would we deprive her of all choice. We

Elders have many heifers, * but our children must also be provided. Stangerson has a son, and Drebber has a

son, and either of them would gladly welcome your daughter to their house. Let her choose between them.

"You will give us time," he said at last. "My daughter is very young she is scarce of an age to marry."

"She shall have a month to choose," said Young, rising from his seat. "At the end of that time she shall give

He was passing through the door, when he turned, with flushed face and flashing eyes. "It were better for

you, John Ferrier," he thundered, "that you and she were now lying blanched skeletons upon the Sierra

Blanco, than that you should put your weak wills against the orders of the Holy Four!"

With a threatening gesture of his hand, he turned from the door, and Ferrier heard his heavy step scrunching

He was still sitting with his elbows upon his knees, considering how he should broach the matter to his

daughter when a soft hand was laid upon his, and looking up, he saw her standing beside him. One glance at

"I could not help it," she said, in answer to his look. "His voice rang through the house. Oh, father, father,

"Don't you scare yourself," he answered, drawing her to him, and passing his broad, rough hand caressingly

over her chestnut hair. "We'll fix it up somehow or another. You don't find your fancy kind o' lessening for

"No; of course not. I shouldn't care to hear you say you did. He's a likely lad, and he's a Christian, which is

more than these folk here, in spite o' all their praying and preaching. There's a party starting for Nevada

tomorrow, and I'll manage to send him a message letting him know the hole we are in. If I know anything o'

that young man, he'll be back here with a speed that would whip electrotelegraphs."

"When he comes, he will advise us for the best. But it is for you that I am frightened, dear. One hears one

hears such dreadful stories about those who oppose the Prophet: something terrible always happens to them."

"But we haven't opposed him yet," her father answered. "It will be time to look out for squalls when we do.

We have a clear month before us; at the end of that, I guess we had best shin out of Utah."

"We will raise as much as we can in money, and let the rest go. To tell the truth, Lucy, it isn't the first time I

have thought of doing it. I don't care about knuckling under to any man, as these folk do to their darned

prophet. I'm a freeborn American, and it's all new to me. Guess I'm too old to learn. If he comes browsing

about this farm, he might chance to run up against a charge of buckshot travelling in the opposite direction."

"Wait till Jefferson comes, and we'll soon manage that. In the meantime, don't you fret yourself, my dearie,

and don't get your eyes swelled up, else he'll be walking into me when he sees you. There's nothing to be

John Ferrier uttered these consoling remarks in a very confident tone, but she could not help observing that he

paid unusual care to the fastening of the doors that night, and that he carefully cleaned and loaded the rusty

ON the morning which followed his interview with the Mormon Prophet, John Ferrier went in to Salt Lake

City, and having found his acquaintance, who was bound for the Nevada Mountains, he entrusted him with

his message to Jefferson Hope. In it he told the young man of the imminent danger which threatened them,

and how necessary it was that he should return. Having done thus he felt easier in his mind, and returned

As he approached his farm, he was surprised to see a horse hitched to each of the posts of the gate. Still more

surprised was he on entering to find two young men in possession of his sittingroom. One, with a long pale

face, was leaning back in the rockingchair, with his feet cocked up upon the stove. The other, a bullnecked

youth with coarse bloated features, was standing in front of the window with his hands in his pocket,

whistling a popular hymn. Both of them nodded to Ferrier as he entered, and the one in the rockingchair

"Maybe you don't know us," he said. "This here is the son of Elder Drebber, and I'm Joseph Stangerson, who

travelled with you in the desert when the Lord stretched out His hand and gathered you into the true fold."

"As He will all the nations in His own good time," said the other in a nasal voice; "He grindeth slowly but

"We have come," continued Stangerson, "at the advice of our fathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for

whichever of us may seem good to you and to her. As I have but four wives and Brother Drebber here has

"Nay, nay, Brother Stangerson," cried the other; "the question is not how many wives we have, but how many

we can keep. My father has now given over his mills to me, and I am the richer man."

"But my prospects are better," said the other, warmly. "When the Lord removes my father, I shall have his

tanning yard and his leather factory. Then I am your elder, and am higher in the Church."

"It will be for the maiden to decide," rejoined young Drebber, smirking at his own reflection in the glass. "We

During this dialogue, John Ferrier had stood fuming in the doorway, hardly able to keep his ridingwhip

"Look here," he said at last, striding up to them, "when my daughter summons you, you can come, but until

The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement. In their eyes this competition between them for the

"There are two ways out of the room," cried Ferrier; "there is the door, and there is the window. Which do

His brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands so threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and

"You shall smart for this!" Stangerson cried, white with rage. "You have defied the Prophet and the Council

"The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you," cried young Drebber; "He will arise and smite you!"

"Then I'll start the smiting," exclaimed Ferrier furiously, and would have rushed upstairs for his gun had not

Lucy seized him by the arm and restrained him. Before he could escape from her, the clatter of horses' hoofs

"The young canting rascals!" he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead; "I would sooner see

"And so should I, father," she answered, with spirit; "but Jefferson will soon be here."

"Yes. It will not be long before he comes. The sooner the better, for we do not know what their next move

It was, indeed, high time that someone capable of giving advice and help should come to the aid of the sturdy

old farmer and his adopted daughter. In the whole history of the settlement there had never been such a case

of rank disobedience to the authority of the Elders. If minor errors were punished so sternly, what would be

the fate of this arch rebel. Ferrier knew that his wealth and position would be of no avail to him. Others as

well known and as rich as himself had been spirited away before now, and their goods given over to the

Church. He was a brave man, but he trembled at the vague, shadowy terrors which hung over him. Any

known danger he could face with a firm lip, but this suspense was unnerving. He concealed his fears from his

daughter, however, and affected to make light of the whole matter, though she, with the keen eye of love, saw

He expected that he would receive some message or remonstrance from Young as to his conduct, and he was

not mistaken, though it came in an unlookedfor manner. Upon rising next morning he found, to his surprise,

a small square of paper pinned on to the coverlet of his bed just over his chest. On it was printed, in bold

The dash was more fearinspiring than any threat could have been. How this warning came into his room

puzzled John Ferrier sorely, for his servants slept in an outhouse, and the doors and windows had all been

secured. He crumpled the paper up and said nothing to his daughter, but the incident struck a chill into his

heart. The twentynine days were evidently the balance of the month which Young had promised. What

strength or courage could avail against an enemy armed with such mysterious powers? The hand which

fastened that pin might have struck him to the heart, and he could never have known who had slain him.

Still more shaken was he next morning. They had sat down to their breakfast when Lucy with a cry of

surprise pointed upwards. In the centre of the ceiling was scrawled, with a burned stick apparently, the

number 28. To his daughter it was unintelligible, and he did not enlighten her. That night he sat up with his

gun and kept watch and ward. He saw and he heard nothing, and yet in the morning a great 27 had been

Thus day followed day; and as sure as morning came he found that his unseen enemies had kept their register,

and had marked up in some conspicuous position how many days were still left to him out of the month of

grace. Sometimes the fatal numbers appeared upon the walls, sometimes upon the floors, occasionally they

were on small placards stuck upon the garden gate or the railings. With all his vigilance John Ferrier could

not discover whence these daily warnings proceeded. A horror which was almost superstitious came upon

him at the sight of them. He became haggard and restless, and his eyes had the troubled look of some hunted

creature. He had but one hope in life now, and that was for the arrival of the young hunter from Nevada.

Twenty had changed to fifteen and fifteen to ten, but there was no news of the absentee. One by one the

numbers dwindled down, and still there came no sign of him. Whenever a horseman clattered down the road,

or a driver shouted at his team, the old farmer hurried to the gate thinking that help had arrived at last. At last,

when he saw five give way to four and that again to three, he lost heart, and abandoned all hope of escape.

Singlehanded, and with his limited knowledge of the mountains which surrounded the settlement, he knew

that he was powerless. The morefrequented roads were strictly watched and guarded, and none could pass

along them without an order from the Council. Turn which way he would, there appeared to be no avoiding

the blow which hung over him. Yet the old man never wavered in his resolution to part with life itself before

He was sitting alone one evening pondering deeply over his troubles, and searching vainly for some way out

of them. That morning had shown the figure 2 upon the wall of his house, and the next day would be the last

of the allotted time. What was to happen then? All manner of vague and terrible fancies filled his

imagination. And his daughter what was to become of her after he was gone? Was there no escape from

the invisible network which was drawn all round them. He sank his head upon the table and sobbed at the

What was that? In the silence he heard a gentle scratching sound low, but very distinct in the quiet of the

night. It came from the door of the house. Ferrier crept into the hall and listened intently. There was a pause

for a few moments, and then the low insidious sound was repeated. Someone was evidently tapping very

gently upon one of the panels of the door. Was it some midnight assassin who had come to carry out the

murderous orders of the secret tribunal? Or was it some agent who was marking up that the last day of grace

had arrived. John Ferrier felt that instant death would be better than the suspense which shook his nerves and

Outside all was calm and quiet. The night was fine, and the stars were twinkling brightly overhead. The little

front garden lay before the farmer's eyes bounded by the fence and gate, but neither there nor on the road was

any human being to be seen. With a sigh of relief, Ferrier looked to right and to left, until happening to glance

straight down at his own feet he saw to his astonishment a man lying flat upon his face upon the ground, with

So unnerved was he at the sight that he leaned up against the wall with his hand to his throat to stifle his

inclination to call out. His first thought was that the prostrate figure was that of some wounded or dying man,

but as he watched it he saw it writhe along the ground and into the hall with the rapidity and noiselessness of

a serpent. Once within the house the man sprang to his feet, closed the door, and revealed to the astonished

"Good God!" gasped John Ferrier. "How you scared me! Whatever made you come in like that."

"Give me food," the other said, hoarsely. "I have had no time for bite or sup for eightandforty hours." He

flung himself upon the cold meat and bread which were still lying upon the table from his host's supper, and

devoured it voraciously. "Does Lucy bear up well?" he asked, when he had satisfied his hunger.

"That is well. The house is watched on every side. That is why I crawled my way up to it. They may be

John Ferrier felt a different man now that he realized that he had a devoted ally. He seized the young man's

leathery hand and wrung it cordially. "You're a man to be proud of," he said. "There are not many who would

"You've hit it there, pard," the young hunter answered. "I have a respect for you, but if you were alone in this

business I'd think twice before I put my head into such a hornet's nest. It's Lucy that brings me here, and

before harm comes on her I guess there will be one less o' the Hope family in Utah."

"Tomorrow is your last day, and unless you act tonight you are lost. I have a mule and two horses waiting

"That will do. I have as much more to add to it. We must push for Carson City through the mountains. You

While Ferrier was absent, preparing his daughter for the approaching journey, Jefferson Hope packed all the

eatables that he could find into a small parcel, and filled a stoneware jar with water, for he knew by

experience that the mountain wells were few and far between. He had hardly completed his arrangements

before the farmer returned with his daughter all dressed and ready for a start. The greeting between the lovers

"We must make our start at once," said Jefferson Hope, speaking in a low but resolute voice, like one who

realizes the greatness of the peril, but has steeled his heart to meet it. "The front and back entrances are

watched, but with caution we may get away through the side window and across the fields. Once on the road

we are only two miles from the Ravine where the horses are waiting. By daybreak we should be halfway

Hope slapped the revolver butt which protruded from the front of his tunic. "If they are too many for us we

The lights inside the house had all been extinguished, and from the darkened window Ferrier peered over the

fields which had been his own, and which he was now about to abandon for ever. He had long nerved himself

to the sacrifice, however, and the thought of the honour and happiness of his daughter outweighed any regret

at his ruined fortunes. All looked so peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broad silent stretch of

grainland, that it was difficult to realize that the spirit of murder lurked through it all. Yet the white face and

set expression of the young hunter showed that in his approach to the house he had seen enough to satisfy

Ferrier carried the bag of gold and notes, Jefferson Hope had the scanty provisions and water, while Lucy had

a small bundle containing a few of her more valued possessions. Opening the window very slowly and

carefully, they waited until a dark cloud had somewhat obscured the night, and then one by one passed

through into the little garden. With bated breath and crouching figures they stumbled across it, and gained the

shelter of the hedge, which they skirted until they came to the gap which opened into the cornfields. They had

just reached this point when the young man seized his two companions and dragged them down into the

It was as well that his prairie training had given Jefferson Hope the ears of a lynx. He and his friends had

hardly crouched down before the melancholy hooting of a mountain owl was heard within a few yards of

them, which was immediately answered by another hoot at a small distance. At the same moment a vague

shadowy figure emerged from the gap for which they had been making, and uttered the plaintive signal cry

"Tomorrow at midnight," said the first who appeared to be in authority. "When the WhippoorWill calls

"Seven to five!" repeated the other, and the two figures flitted away in different directions. Their concluding

words had evidently been some form of sign and countersign. The instant that their footsteps had died away

in the distance, Jefferson Hope sprang to his feet, and helping his companions through the gap, led the way

across the fields at the top of his speed, supporting and halfcarrying the girl when her strength appeared to

"Hurry on! hurry on!" he gasped from time to time. "We are through the line of sentinels. Everything depends

Once on the high road they made rapid progress. Only once did they meet anyone, and then they managed to

slip into a field, and so avoid recognition. Before reaching the town the hunter branched away into a rugged

and narrow footpath which led to the mountains. Two dark jagged peaks loomed above them through the

darkness, and the defile which led between them was the Eagle Canon in which the horses were awaiting

them. With unerring instinct Jefferson Hope picked his way among the great boulders and along the bed of a

driedup watercourse, until he came to the retired corner, screened with rocks, where the faithful animals had

been picketed. The girl was placed upon the mule, and old Ferrier upon one of the horses, with his

moneybag, while Jefferson Hope led the other along the precipitous and dangerous path.

It was a bewildering route for anyone who was not accustomed to face Nature in her wildest moods. On the

one side a great crag towered up a thousand feet or more, black, stern, and menacing, with long basaltic

columns upon its rugged surface like the ribs of some petrified monster. On the other hand a wild chaos of

boulders and debris made all advance impossible. Between the two ran the irregular track, so narrow in places

that they had to travel in Indian file, and so rough that only practised riders could have traversed it at all. Yet

in spite of all dangers and difficulties, the hearts of the fugitives were light within them, for every step

increased the distance between them and the terrible despotism from which they were flying.

They soon had a proof, however, that they were still within the jurisdiction of the Saints. They had reached

the very wildest and most desolate portion of the pass when the girl gave a startled cry, and pointed upwards.

On a rock which overlooked the track, showing out dark and plain against the sky, there stood a solitary

sentinel. He saw them as soon as they perceived him, and his military challenge of "Who goes there?" rang

"Travellers for Nevada," said Jefferson Hope, with his hand upon the rifle which hung by his saddle.

They could see the lonely watcher fingering his gun, and peering down at them as if dissatisfied at their reply.

"The Holy Four," answered Ferrier. His Mormon experiences had taught him that that was the highest

"Seven from five," returned Jefferson Hope promptly, remembering the countersign which he had heard in

"Pass, and the Lord go with you," said the voice from above. Beyond his post the path broadened out, and the

horses were able to break into a trot. Looking back, they could see the solitary watcher leaning upon his gun,

and knew that they had passed the outlying post of the chosen people, and that freedom lay before them.

ALL night their course lay through intricate defiles and over irregular and rockstrewn paths. More than once

they lost their way, but Hope's intimate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the track once

more. When morning broke, a scene of marvellous though savage beauty lay before them. In every direction

the great snowcapped peaks hemmed them in, peeping over each other's shoulders to the far horizon. So

steep were the rocky banks on either side of them, that the larch and the pine seemed to be suspended over

their heads, and to need only a gust of wind to come hurtling down upon them. Nor was the fear entirely an

illusion, for the barren valley was thickly strewn with trees and boulders which had fallen in a similar

manner. Even as they passed, a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse rattle which woke the echoes

As the sun rose slowly above the eastern horizon, the caps of the great mountains lit up one after the other,

like lamps at a festival, until they were all ruddy and glowing. The magnificent spectacle cheered the hearts

of the three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. At a wild torrent which swept out of a ravine they called a

halt and watered their horses, while they partook of a hasty breakfast. Lucy and her father would fain have

rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. "They will be upon our track by this time," he said.

"Everything depends upon our speed. Once safe in Carson we may rest for the remainder of our lives."

During the whole of that day they struggled on through the defiles, and by evening they calculated that they

were more than thirty miles from their enemies. At nighttime they chose the base of a beetling crag, where

the rocks offered some protection from the chill wind, and there huddled together for warmth, they enjoyed a

few hours' sleep. Before daybreak, however, they were up and on their way once more. They had seen no

signs of any pursuers, and Jefferson Hope began to think that they were fairly out of the reach of the terrible

organization whose enmity they had incurred. He little knew how far that iron grasp could reach, or how soon

About the middle of the second day of their flight their scanty store of provisions began to run out. This gave

the hunter little uneasiness, however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he had

frequently before had to depend upon his rifle for the needs of life. Choosing a sheltered nook, he piled

together a few dried branches and made a blazing fire, at which his companions might warm themselves, for

they were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, and the air was bitter and keen. Having tethered

the horses, and bade Lucy adieu, he threw his gun over his shoulder, and set out in search of whatever chance

might throw in his way. Looking back he saw the old man and the young girl crouching over the blazing fire,

while the three animals stood motionless in the background. Then the intervening rocks hid them from his

He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine after another without success, though from the marks

upon the bark of the trees, and other indications, he judged that there were numerous bears in the vicinity. At

last, after two or three hours' fruitless search, he was thinking of turning back in despair, when casting his

eyes upwards he saw a sight which sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. On the edge of a jutting

pinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, there stood a creature somewhat resembling a sheep in

appearance, but armed with a pair of gigantic horns. The bighorn for so it is called was acting,

probably, as a guardian over a flock which were invisible to the hunter; but fortunately it was heading in the

opposite direction, and had not perceived him. Lying on his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and took a

long and steady aim before drawing the trigger. The animal sprang into the air, tottered for a moment upon

The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter contented himself with cutting away one haunch and part

of the flank. With this trophy over his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening was already

drawing in. He had hardly started, however, before he realized the difficulty which faced him. In his

eagerness he had wandered far past the ravines which were known to him, and it was no easy matter to pick

out the path which he had taken. The valley in which he found himself divided and subdivided into many

gorges, which were so like each other that it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. He followed

one for a mile or more until he came to a mountain torrent which he was sure that he had never seen before.

Convinced that he had taken the wrong turn, he tried another, but with the same result. Night was coming on

rapidly, and it was almost dark before he at last found himself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even

then it was no easy matter to keep to the right track, for the moon had not yet risen, and the high cliffs on

either side made the obscurity more profound. Weighed down with his burden, and weary from his exertions,

he stumbled along, keeping up his heart by the reflection that every step brought him nearer to Lucy, and that

he carried with him enough to ensure them food for the remainder of their journey.

He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in which he had left them. Even in the darkness he could

recognize the outline of the cliffs which bounded it. They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously, for

he had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness of his heart he put his hands to his mouth and made the

glen reecho to a loud halloo as a signal that he was coming. He paused and listened for an answer. None

came save his own cry, which clattered up the dreary silent ravines, and was borne back to his ears in

countless repetitions. Again he shouted, even louder than before, and again no whisper came back from the

friends whom he had left such a short time ago. A vague, nameless dread came over him, and he hurried

When he turned the corner, he came full in sight of the spot where the fire had been lit. There was still a

glowing pile of wood ashes there, but it had evidently not been tended since his departure. The same dead

silence still reigned all round. With his fears all changed to convictions, he hurried on. There was no living

creature near the remains of the fire: animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was only too clear that some

sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his absence a disaster which had embraced them all, and

Bewildered and stunned by this blow, Jefferson Hope felt his head spin round, and had to lean upon his rifle

to save himself from falling. He was essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered from his

temporary impotence. Seizing a halfconsumed piece of wood from the smouldering fire, he blew it into a

flame, and proceeded with its help to examine the little camp. The ground was all stamped down by the feet

of horses, showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken the fugitives, and the direction of their

tracks proved that they had afterwards turned back to Salt Lake City. Had they carried back both of his

companions with them? Jefferson Hope had almost persuaded himself that they must have done so, when his

eye fell upon an object which made every nerve of his body tingle within him. A little way on one side of the

camp was a lowlying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly not been there before. There was no

mistaking it for anything but a newlydug grave. As the young hunter approached it, he perceived that a stick

had been planted on it, with a sheet of paper stuck in the cleft fork of it. The inscription upon the paper was

The sturdy old man, whom he had left so short a time before, was gone, then, and this was all his epitaph.

Jefferson Hope looked wildly round to see if there was a second grave, but there was no sign of one. Lucy

had been carried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfil her original destiny, by becoming one of the harem of

the Elder's son. As the young fellow realized the certainty of her fate, and his own powerlessness to prevent

it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the old farmer in his last silent restingplace.

Again, however, his active spirit shook off the lethargy which springs from despair. If there was nothing else

left to him, he could at least devote his life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance, Jefferson

Hope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, which he may have learned from the Indians

amongst whom he had lived. As he stood by the desolate fire, he felt that the only one thing which could

assuage his grief would be thorough and complete retribution, brought by his own hand upon his enemies.

His strong will and untiring energy should, he determined, be devoted to that one end. With a grim, white

face, he retraced his steps to where he had dropped the food, and having stirred up the smouldering fire, he

cooked enough to last him for a few days. This he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was, he set himself

For five days he toiled footsore and weary through the defiles which he had already traversed on horseback.

At night he flung himself down among the rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak he

was always well on his way. On the sixth day, he reached the Eagle Canon, from which they had commenced

their illfated flight. Thence he could look down upon the home of the saints. Worn and exhausted, he leaned

upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silent widespread city beneath him. As he looked at it,

he observed that there were flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs of festivity. He was still

speculating as to what this might mean when he heard the clatter of horse's hoofs, and saw a mounted man

riding towards him. As he approached, he recognized him as a Mormon named Cowper, to whom he had

rendered services at different times. He therefore accosted him when he got up to him, with the object of

The Mormon looked at him with undisguised astonishment indeed, it was difficult to recognize in this

tattered, unkempt wanderer, with ghastly white face and fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of former

days. Having, however, at last, satisfied himself as to his identity, the man's surprise changed to

"You are mad to come here," he cried. "It is as much as my own life is worth to be seen talking with you.

There is a warrant against you from the Holy Four for assisting the Ferriers away."

"I don't fear them, or their warrant," Hope said, earnestly. "You must know something of this matter, Cowper.

I conjure you by everything you hold dear to answer a few questions. We have always been friends. For

"What is it?" the Mormon asked uneasily. "Be quick. The very rocks have ears and the trees eyes."

"She was married yesterday to young Drebber. Hold up, man, hold up, you have no life left in you."

"Don't mind me," said Hope faintly. He was white to the very lips, and had sunk down on the stone against

"Married yesterday that's what those flags are for on the Endowment House. There was some words

between young Drebber and young Stangerson as to which was to have her. They'd both been in the party that

followed them, and Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed to give him the best claim; but when they

argued it out in council, Drebber's party was the stronger, so the Prophet gave her over to him. No one won't

have her very long though, for I saw death in her face yesterday. She is more like a ghost than a woman. Are

"Yes, I am off," said Jefferson Hope, who had risen from his seat. His face might have been chiselled out of

marble, so hard and set was its expression, while its eyes glowed with a baleful light.

"Never mind," he answered; and, slinging his weapon over his shoulder, strode off down the gorge and so

away into the heart of the mountains to the haunts of the wild beasts. Amongst them all there was none so

The prediction of the Mormon was only too well fulfilled. Whether it was the terrible death of her father or

the effects of the hateful marriage into which she had been forced, poor Lucy never held up her head again,

but pined away and died within a month. Her sottish husband, who had married her principally for the sake of

John Ferrier's property, did not affect any great grief at his bereavement; but his other wives mourned over

her, and sat up with her the night before the burial, as is the Mormon custom. They were grouped round the

bier in the early hours of the morning, when, to their inexpressible fear and astonishment, the door was flung

open, and a savagelooking, weatherbeaten man in tattered garments strode into the room. Without a glance

or a word to the cowering women, he walked up to the white silent figure which had once contained the pure

soul of Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, he pressed his lips reverently to her cold forehead, and then,

snatching up her hand, he took the weddingring from her finger. "She shall not be buried in that," he cried

with a fierce snarl, and before an alarm could be raised sprang down the stairs and was gone. So strange and

so brief was the episode, that the watchers might have found it hard to believe it themselves or persuade other

people of it, had it not been for the undeniable fact that the circlet of gold which marked her as having been a

For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains, leading a strange wild life, and nursing in

his heart the fierce desire for vengeance which possessed him. Tales were told in the City of the weird figure

which was seen prowling about the suburbs, and which haunted the lonely mountain gorges. Once a bullet

whistled through Stangerson's window and flattened itself upon the wall within a foot of him. On another

occasion, as Drebber passed under a cliff a great boulder crashed down on him, and he only escaped a terrible

death by throwing himself upon his face. The two young Mormons were not long in discovering the reason of

these attempts upon their lives, and led repeated expeditions into the mountains in the hope of capturing or

killing their enemy, but always without success. Then they adopted the precaution of never going out alone or

after nightfall, and of having their houses guarded. After a time they were able to relax these measures, for

nothing was either heard or seen of their opponent, and they hoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness.

Far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmented it. The hunter's mind was of a hard, unyielding nature, and

the predominant idea of revenge had taken such complete possession of it that there was no room for any

other emotion. He was, however, above all things practical. He soon realized that even his iron constitution

could not stand the incessant strain which he was putting upon it. Exposure and want of wholesome food

were wearing him out. If he died like a dog among the mountains, what was to become of his revenge then?

And yet such a death was sure to overtake him if he persisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy's game,

so he reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there to recruit his health and to amass money enough to

His intention had been to be absent a year at the most, but a combination of unforeseen circumstances

prevented his leaving the mines for nearly five. At the end of that time, however, his memory of his wrongs

and his craving for revenge were quite as keen as on that memorable night when he had stood by John

Ferrier's grave. Disguised, and under an assumed name, he returned to Salt Lake City, careless what became

of his own life, as long as he obtained what he knew to be justice. There he found evil tidings awaiting him.

There had been a schism among the Chosen People a few months before, some of the younger members of

the Church having rebelled against the authority of the Elders, and the result had been the secession of a

certain number of the malcontents, who had left Utah and become Gentiles. Among these had been Drebber

and Stangerson; and no one knew whither they had gone. Rumour reported that Drebber had managed to

convert a large part of his property into money, and that he had departed a wealthy man, while his

companion, Stangerson, was comparatively poor. There was no clue at all, however, as to their whereabouts.

Many a man, however vindictive, would have abandoned all thought of revenge in the face of such a

difficulty, but Jefferson Hope never faltered for a moment. With the small competence he possessed, eked out

by such employment as he could pick up, he travelled from town to town through the United States in quest

of his enemies. Year passed into year, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he wandered on, a human

bloodhound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object upon which he had devoted his life. At last his

perseverance was rewarded. It was but a glance of a face in a window, but that one glance told him that

Cleveland in Ohio possessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. He returned to his miserable lodgings with

his plan of vengeance all arranged. It chanced, however, that Drebber, looking from his window, had

recognized the vagrant in the street, and had read murder in his eyes. He hurried before a justice of the peace,

accompanied by Stangerson, who had become his private secretary, and represented to him that they were in

danger of their lives from the jealousy and hatred of an old rival. That evening Jefferson Hope was taken into

custody, and not being able to find sureties, was detained for some weeks. When at last he was liberated, it

was only to find that Drebber's house was deserted, and that he and his secretary had departed for Europe.

Again the avenger had been foiled, and again his concentrated hatred urged him to continue the pursuit.

Funds were wanting, however, and for some time he had to return to work, saving every dollar for his

approaching journey. At last, having collected enough to keep life in him, he departed for Europe, and

tracked his enemies from city to city, working his way in any menial capacity, but never overtaking the

fugitives. When he reached St. Petersburg they had departed for Paris; and when he followed them there he

learned that they had just set off for Copenhagen. At the Danish capital he was again a few days late, for they

had journeyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in running them to earth. As to what occurred there,

we cannot do better than quote the old hunter's own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's Journal, to

OUR prisoner's furious resistance did not apparently indicate any ferocity in his disposition towards

ourselves, for on finding himself powerless, he smiled in an affable manner, and expressed his hopes that he

had not hurt any of us in the scuffle. "I guess you're going to take me to the policestation," he remarked to

Sherlock Holmes. "My cab's at the door. If you'll loose my legs I'll walk down to it. I'm not so light to lift as I

Gregson and Lestrade exchanged glances as if they thought this proposition rather a bold one; but Holmes at

once took the prisoner at his word, and loosened the towel which we had bound round his ancles. He rose and

stretched his legs, as though to assure himself that they were free once more. I remember that I thought to

myself, as I eyed him, that I had seldom seen a more powerfully built man; and his dark sunburned face bore

an expression of determination and energy which was as formidable as his personal strength.

"If there's a vacant place for a chief of the police, I reckon you are the man for it," he said, gazing with

undisguised admiration at my fellowlodger. "The way you kept on my trail was a caution."

"Good! and Gregson can come inside with me. You too, Doctor, you have taken an interest in the case and

I assented gladly, and we all descended together. Our prisoner made no attempt at escape, but stepped calmly

into the cab which had been his, and we followed him. Lestrade mounted the box, whipped up the horse, and

brought us in a very short time to our destination. We were ushered into a small chamber where a police

Inspector noted down our prisoner's name and the names of the men with whose murder he had been charged.

The official was a whitefaced unemotional man, who went through his duties in a dull mechanical way.

"The prisoner will be put before the magistrates in the course of the week," he said; "in the mean time, Mr.

Jefferson Hope, have you anything that you wish to say? I must warn you that your words will be taken

"I've got a good deal to say," our prisoner said slowly. "I want to tell you gentlemen all about it."

"I may never be tried," he answered. "You needn't look startled. It isn't suicide I am thinking of. Are you a

"Then put your hand here," he said, with a smile, motioning with his manacled wrists towards his chest.

I did so; and became at once conscious of an extraordinary throbbing and commotion which was going on

inside. The walls of his chest seemed to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some

powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear a dull humming and buzzing noise

"That's what they call it," he said, placidly. "I went to a Doctor last week about it, and he told me that it is

bound to burst before many days passed. It has been getting worse for years. I got it from overexposure and

underfeeding among the Salt Lake Mountains. I've done my work now, and I don't care how soon I go, but I

should like to leave some account of the business behind me. I don't want to be remembered as a common

The Inspector and the two detectives had a hurried discussion as to the advisability of allowing him to tell his

"In that case it is clearly our duty, in the interests of justice, to take his statement," said the Inspector. "You

are at liberty, sir, to give your account, which I again warn you will be taken down."

"I'll sit down, with your leave," the prisoner said, suiting the action to the word. "This aneurism of mine

makes me easily tired, and the tussle we had half an hour ago has not mended matters. I'm on the brink of the

grave, and I am not likely to lie to you. Every word I say is the absolute truth, and how you use it is a matter

With these words, Jefferson Hope leaned back in his chair and began the following remarkable statement. He

spoke in a calm and methodical manner, as though the events which he narrated were commonplace enough. I

can vouch for the accuracy of the subjoined account, for I have had access to Lestrade's notebook, in which

"It don't much matter to you why I hated these men," he said; "it's enough that they were guilty of the death

of two human beings a father and a daughter and that they had, therefore, forfeited their own lives.

After the lapse of time that has passed since their crime, it was impossible for me to secure a conviction

against them in any court. I knew of their guilt though, and I determined that I should be judge, jury, and

executioner all rolled into one. You'd have done the same, if you have any manhood in you, if you had been

"That girl that I spoke of was to have married me twenty years ago. She was forced into marrying that same

Drebber, and broke her heart over it. I took the marriage ring from her dead finger, and I vowed that his dying

eyes should rest upon that very ring, and that his last thoughts should be of the crime for which he was

punished. I have carried it about with me, and have followed him and his accomplice over two continents

until I caught them. They thought to tire me out, but they could not do it. If I die tomorrow, as is likely

enough, I die knowing that my work in this world is done, and well done. They have perished, and by my

"They were rich and I was poor, so that it was no easy matter for me to follow them. When I got to London

my pocket was about empty, and I found that I must turn my hand to something for my living. Driving and

riding are as natural to me as walking, so I applied at a cabowner's office, and soon got employment. I was to

bring a certain sum a week to the owner, and whatever was over that I might keep for myself. There was

seldom much over, but I managed to scrape along somehow. The hardest job was to learn my way about, for I

reckon that of all the mazes that ever were contrived, this city is the most confusing. I had a map beside me

though, and when once I had spotted the principal hotels and stations, I got on pretty well.

"It was some time before I found out where my two gentlemen were living; but I inquired and inquired until

at last I dropped across them. They were at a boardinghouse at Camberwell, over on the other side of the

river. When once I found them out I knew that I had them at my mercy. I had grown my beard, and there was

no chance of their recognizing me. I would dog them and follow them until I saw my opportunity. I was

"They were very near doing it for all that. Go where they would about London, I was always at their heels.

Sometimes I followed them on my cab, and sometimes on foot, but the former was the best, for then they

could not get away from me. It was only early in the morning or late at night that I could earn anything, so

that I began to get behind hand with my employer. I did not mind that, however, as long as I could lay my

"They were very cunning, though. They must have thought that there was some chance of their being

followed, for they would never go out alone, and never after nightfall. During two weeks I drove behind them

every day, and never once saw them separate. Drebber himself was drunk half the time, but Stangerson was

not to be caught napping. I watched them late and early, but never saw the ghost of a chance; but I was not

discouraged, for something told me that the hour had almost come. My only fear was that this thing in my

"At last, one evening I was driving up and down Torquay Terrace, as the street was called in which they

boarded, when I saw a cab drive up to their door. Presently some luggage was brought out, and after a time

Drebber and Stangerson followed it, and drove off. I whipped up my horse and kept within sight of them,

feeling very ill at ease, for I feared that they were going to shift their quarters. At Euston Station they got out,

and I left a boy to hold my horse, and followed them on to the platform. I heard them ask for the Liverpool

train, and the guard answer that one had just gone and there would not be another for some hours. Stangerson

seemed to be put out at that, but Drebber was rather pleased than otherwise. I got so close to them in the

bustle that I could hear every word that passed between them. Drebber said that he had a little business of his

own to do, and that if the other would wait for him he would soon rejoin him. His companion remonstrated

with him, and reminded him that they had resolved to stick together. Drebber answered that the matter was a

delicate one, and that he must go alone. I could not catch what Stangerson said to that, but the other burst out

swearing, and reminded him that he was nothing more than his paid servant, and that he must not presume to

dictate to him. On that the Secretary gave it up as a bad job, and simply bargained with him that if he missed

the last train he should rejoin him at Halliday's Private Hotel; to which Drebber answered that he would be

"The moment for which I had waited so long had at last come. I had my enemies within my power. Together

they could protect each other, but singly they were at my mercy. I did not act, however, with undue

precipitation. My plans were already formed. There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has

time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution has come upon him. I had my plans arranged by

which I should have the opportunity of making the man who had wronged me understand that his old sin had

found him out. It chanced that some days before a gentleman who had been engaged in looking over some

houses in the Brixton Road had dropped the key of one of them in my carriage. It was claimed that same

evening, and returned; but in the interval I had taken a moulding of it, and had a duplicate constructed. By

means of this I had access to at least one spot in this great city where I could rely upon being free from

interruption. How to get Drebber to that house was the difficult problem which I had now to solve.

"He walked down the road and went into one or two liquor shops, staying for nearly halfanhour in the last

of them. When he came out he staggered in his walk, and was evidently pretty well on. There was a hansom

just in front of me, and he hailed it. I followed it so close that the nose of my horse was within a yard of his

driver the whole way. We rattled across Waterloo Bridge and through miles of streets, until, to my

astonishment, we found ourselves back in the Terrace in which he had boarded. I could not imagine what his

intention was in returning there; but I went on and pulled up my cab a hundred yards or so from the house. He

entered it, and his hansom drove away. Give me a glass of water, if you please. My mouth gets dry with the

"That's better," he said. "Well, I waited for a quarter of an hour, or more, when suddenly there came a noise

like people struggling inside the house. Next moment the door was flung open and two men appeared, one of

whom was Drebber, and the other was a young chap whom I had never seen before. This fellow had Drebber

by the collar, and when they came to the head of the steps he gave him a shove and a kick which sent him

half across the road. `You hound,' he cried, shaking his stick at him; `I'll teach you to insult an honest girl!'

He was so hot that I think he would have thrashed Drebber with his cudgel, only that the cur staggered away

down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran as far as the corner, and then, seeing my cab, he

"When I had him fairly inside my cab, my heart jumped so with joy that I feared lest at this last moment my

aneurism might go wrong. I drove along slowly, weighing in my own mind what it was best to do. I might

take him right out into the country, and there in some deserted lane have my last interview with him. I had

almost decided upon this, when he solved the problem for me. The craze for drink had seized him again, and

he ordered me to pull up outside a gin palace. He went in, leaving word that I should wait for him. There he

remained until closing time, and when he came out he was so far gone that I knew the game was in my own

"Don't imagine that I intended to kill him in cold blood. It would only have been rigid justice if I had done so,

but I could not bring myself to do it. I had long determined that he should have a show for his life if he chose

to take advantage of it. Among the many billets which I have filled in America during my wandering life, I

was once janitor and sweeper out of the laboratory at York College. One day the professor was lecturing on

poisions, and he showed his students some alkaloid, as he called it, which he had extracted from some South

American arrow poison, and which was so powerful that the least grain meant instant death. I spotted the

bottle in which this preparation was kept, and when they were all gone, I helped myself to a little of it. I was a

fairly good dispenser, so I worked this alkaloid into small, soluble pills, and each pill I put in a box with a

similar pill made without the poison. I determined at the time that when I had my chance, my gentlemen

should each have a draw out of one of these boxes, while I ate the pill that remained. It would be quite as

deadly, and a good deal less noisy than firing across a handkerchief. From that day I had always my pill

"It was nearer one than twelve, and a wild, bleak night, blowing hard and raining in torrents. Dismal as it was

outside, I was glad within so glad that I could have shouted out from pure exultation. If any of you

gentlemen have ever pined for a thing, and longed for it during twenty long years, and then suddenly found it

within your reach, you would understand my feelings. I lit a cigar, and puffed at it to steady my nerves, but

my hands were trembling, and my temples throbbing with excitement. As I drove, I could see old John Ferrier

and sweet Lucy looking at me out of the darkness and smiling at me, just as plain as I see you all in this

room. All the way they were ahead of me, one on each side of the horse until I pulled up at the house in the

"There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, except the dripping of the rain. When I looked in at

the window, I found Drebber all huddled together in a drunken sleep. I shook him by the arm, `It's time to get

"I suppose he thought we had come to the hotel that he had mentioned, for he got out without another word,

and followed me down the garden. I had to walk beside him to keep him steady, for he was still a little

topheavy. When we came to the door, I opened it, and led him into the front room. I give you my word that

"`We'll soon have a light,' I said, striking a match and putting it to a wax candle which I had brought with me.

`Now, Enoch Drebber,' I continued, turning to him, and holding the light to my own face, `who am I?'

"He gazed at me with bleared, drunken eyes for a moment, and then I saw a horror spring up in them, and

convulse his whole features, which showed me that he knew me. He staggered back with a livid face, and I

saw the perspiration break out upon his brow, while his teeth chattered in his head. At the sight, I leaned my

back against the door and laughed loud and long. I had always known that vengeance would be sweet, but I

"`You dog!' I said; `I have hunted you from Salt Lake City to St. Petersburg, and you have always escaped

me. Now, at last your wanderings have come to an end, for either you or I shall never see tomorrow's sun

rise.' He shrunk still further away as I spoke, and I could see on his face that he thought I was mad. So I was

for the time. The pulses in my temples beat like sledgehammers, and I believe I would have had a fit of

"`What do you think of Lucy Ferrier now?' I cried, locking the door, and shaking the key in his face.

`Punishment has been slow in coming, but it has overtaken you at last.' I saw his coward lips tremble as I

"`There is no murder,' I answered. `Who talks of murdering a mad dog? What mercy had you upon my poor

darling, when you dragged her from her slaughtered father, and bore her away to your accursed and

"`But it was you who broke her innocent heart,' I shrieked, thrusting the box before him. `Let the high God

judge between us. Choose and eat. There is death in one and life in the other. I shall take what you leave. Let

"He cowered away with wild cries and prayers for mercy, but I drew my knife and held it to his throat until

he had obeyed me. Then I swallowed the other, and we stood facing one another in silence for a minute or

more, waiting to see which was to live and which was to die. Shall I ever forget the look which came over his

face when the first warning pangs told him that the poison was in his system? I laughed as I saw it, and held

Lucy's marriage ring in front of his eyes. It was but for a moment, for the action of the alkaloid is rapid. A

spasm of pain contorted his features; he threw his hands out in front of him, staggered, and then, with a

hoarse cry, fell heavily upon the floor. I turned him over with my foot, and placed my hand upon his heart.

"The blood had been streaming from my nose, but I had taken no notice of it. I don't know what it was that

put it into my head to write upon the wall with it. Perhaps it was some mischievous idea of setting the police

upon a wrong track, for I felt lighthearted and cheerful. I remembered a German being found in New York

with RACHE written up above him, and it was argued at the time in the newspapers that the secret societies

must have done it. I guessed that what puzzled the New Yorkers would puzzle the Londoners, so I dipped my

finger in my own blood and printed it on a convenient place on the wall. Then I walked down to my cab and

found that there was nobody about, and that the night was still very wild. I had driven some distance when I

put my hand into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy's ring, and found that it was not there. I was

thunderstruck at this, for it was the only memento that I had of her. Thinking that I might have dropped it

when I stooped over Drebber's body, I drove back, and leaving my cab in a side street, I went boldly up to the

house for I was ready to dare anything rather than lose the ring. When I arrived there, I walked right into

the arms of a policeofficer who was coming out, and only managed to disarm his suspicions by pretending

"That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end. All I had to do then was to do as much for Stangerson, and so

pay off John Ferrier's debt. I knew that he was staying at Halliday's Private Hotel, and I hung about all day,

but he never came out. fancy that he suspected something when Drebber failed to put in an appearance. He

was cunning, was Stangerson, and always on his guard. If he thought he could keep me off by staying indoors

he was very much mistaken. I soon found out which was the window of his bedroom, and early next morning

I took advantage of some ladders which were lying in the lane behind the hotel, and so made my way into his

room in the grey of the dawn. I woke him up and told him that the hour had come when he was to answer for

the life he had taken so long before. I described Drebber's death to him, and I gave him the same choice of the

poisoned pills. Instead of grasping at the chance of safety which that offered him, he sprang from his bed and

flew at my throat. In selfdefence I stabbed him to the heart. It would have been the same in any case, for

Providence would never have allowed his guilty hand to pick out anything but the poison.

"I have little more to say, and it's as well, for I am about done up. I went on cabbing it for a day or so,

intending to keep at it until I could save enough to take me back to America. I was standing in the yard when

a ragged youngster asked if there was a cabby there called Jefferson Hope, and said that his cab was wanted

by a gentleman at 221B, Baker Street. I went round, suspecting no harm, and the next thing I knew, this

young man here had the bracelets on my wrists, and as neatly snackled as ever I saw in my life. That's the

whole of my story, gentlemen. You may consider me to be a murderer; but I hold that I am just as much an

So thrilling had the man's narrative been, and his manner was so impressive that we had sat silent and

absorbed. Even the professional detectives, blase as they were in every detail of crime, appeared to be keenly

interested in the man's story. When he finished we sat for some minutes in a stillness which was only broken

by the scratching of Lestrade's pencil as he gave the finishing touches to his shorthand account.

"There is only one point on which I should like a little more information," Sherlock Holmes said at last.

The prisoner winked at my friend jocosely. "I can tell my own secrets," he said, "but I don't get other people

into trouble. I saw your advertisement, and I thought it might be a plant, or it might be the ring which I

wanted. My friend volunteered to go and see. I think you'll own he did it smartly."

"Now, gentlemen," the Inspector remarked gravely, "the forms of the law must be complied with. On

Thursday the prisoner will be brought before the magistrates, and your attendance will be required. Until then

I will be responsible for him." He rang the bell as he spoke, and Jefferson Hope was led off by a couple of

warders, while my friend and I made our way out of the Station and took a cab back to Baker Street.

WE had all been warned to appear before the magistrates upon the Thursday; but when the Thursday came

there was no occasion for our testimony. A higher Judge had taken the matter in hand, and Jefferson Hope

had been summoned before a tribunal where strict justice would be meted out to him. On the very night after

his capture the aneurism burst, and he was found in the morning stretched upon the floor of the cell, with a

placid smile upon his face, as though he had been able in his dying moments to look back upon a useful life,

"Gregson and Lestrade will be wild about his death," Holmes remarked, as we chatted it over next evening.

"What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence," returned my companion, bitterly. "The question

is, what can you make people believe that you have done. Never mind," he continued, more brightly, after a

pause. "I would not have missed the investigation for anything. There has been no better case within my

recollection. Simple as it was, there were several most instructive points about it."

"Well, really, it can hardly be described as otherwise," said Sherlock Holmes, smiling at my surprise. "The

proof of its intrinsic simplicity is, that without any help save a few very ordinary deductions I was able to lay

"I have already explained to you that what is out of the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance. In

solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backwards. That is a very useful

accomplishment, and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. In the everyday affairs of life it is

more useful to reason forwards, and so the other comes to be neglected. There are fifty who can reason

"I hardly expected that you would. Let me see if I can make it clearer. Most people, if you describe a train of

events to them, will tell you what the result would be. They can put those events together in their minds, and

argue from them that something will come to pass. There are few people, however, who, if you told them a

result, would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousness what the steps were which led up to that

result. This power is what I mean when I talk of reasoning backwards, or analytically."

"Now this was a case in which you were given the result and had to find everything else for yourself. Now let

me endeavour to show you the different steps in my reasoning. To begin at the beginning. I approached the

house, as you know, on foot, and with my mind entirely free from all impressions. I naturally began by

examining the roadway, and there, as I have already explained to you, I saw clearly the marks of a cab,

which, I ascertained by inquiry, must have been there during the night. I satisfied myself that it was a cab and

not a private carriage by the narrow gauge of the wheels. The ordinary London growler is considerably less

"This was the first point gained. I then walked slowly down the garden path, which happened to be composed

of a clay soil, peculiarly suitable for taking impressions. No doubt it appeared to you to be a mere trampled

line of slush, but to my trained eyes every mark upon its surface had a meaning. There is no branch of

detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracing footsteps. Happily, I have

always laid great stress upon it, and much practice has made it second nature to me. I saw the heavy

footmarks of the constables, but I saw also the track of the two men who had first passed through the garden.

It was easy to tell that they had been before the others, because in places their marks had been entirely

obliterated by the others coming upon the top of them. In this way my second link was formed, which told me

that the nocturnal visitors were two in number, one remarkable for his height (as I calculated from the length

of his stride), and the other fashionably dressed, to judge from the small and elegant impression left by his

"On entering the house this last inference was confirmed. My wellbooted man lay before me. The tall one,

then, had done the murder, if murder there was. There was no wound upon the dead man's person, but the

agitated expression upon his face assured me that he had foreseen his fate before it came upon him. Men who

die from heart disease, or any sudden natural cause, never by any chance exhibit agitation upon their features.

Having sniffed the dead man's lips I detected a slightly sour smell, and I came to the conclusion that he had

had poison forced upon him. Again, I argued that it had been forced upon him from the hatred and fear

expressed upon his face. By the method of exclusion, I had arrived at this result, for no other hypothesis

would meet the facts. Do not imagine that it was a very unheard of idea. The forcible administration of poison

is by no means a new thing in criminal annals. The cases of Dolsky in Odessa, and of Leturier in Montpellier,

"And now came the great question as to the reason why. Robbery had not been the object of the murder, for

nothing was taken. Was it politics, then, or was it a woman? That was the question which confronted me. I

was inclined from the first to the latter supposition. Political assassins are only too glad to do their work and

to fly. This murder had, on the contrary, been done most deliberately, and the perpetrator had left his tracks

all over the room, showing that he had been there all the time. It must have been a private wrong, and not a

political one, which called for such a methodical revenge. When the inscription was discovered upon the wall

I was more inclined than ever to my opinion. The thing was too evidently a blind. When the ring was found,

however, it settled the question. Clearly the murderer had used it to remind his victim of some dead or absent

woman. It was at this point that I asked Gregson whether he had enquired in his telegram to Cleveland as to

any particular point in Mr. Drebber's former career. He answered, you remember, in the negative.

"I then proceeded to make a careful examination of the room, which confirmed me in my opinion as to the

murderer's height, and furnished me with the additional details as to the Trichinopoly cigar and the length of

his nails. I had already come to the conclusion, since there were no signs of a struggle, that the blood which

covered the floor had burst from the murderer's nose in his excitement. I could perceive that the track of

blood coincided with the track of his feet. It is seldom that any man, unless he is very fullblooded, breaks

out in this way through emotion, so I hazarded the opinion that the criminal was probably a robust and

"Having left the house, I proceeded to do what Gregson had neglected. I telegraphed to the head of the police

at Cleveland, limiting my enquiry to the circumstances connected with the marriage of Enoch Drebber. The

answer was conclusive. It told me that Drebber had already applied for the protection of the law against an

old rival in love, named Jefferson Hope, and that this same Hope was at present in Europe. I knew now that I

held the clue to the mystery in my hand, and all that remained was to secure the murderer.

"I had already determined in my own mind that the man who had walked into the house with Drebber, was

none other than the man who had driven the cab. The marks in the road showed me that the horse had

wandered on in a way which would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it. Where, then,

could the driver be, unless he were inside the house? Again, it is absurd to suppose that any sane man would

carry out a deliberate crime under the very eyes, as it were, of a third person, who was sure to betray him.

Lastly, supposing one man wished to dog another through London, what better means could he adopt than to

turn cabdriver. All these considerations led me to the irresistible conclusion that Jefferson Hope was to be

"If he had been one there was no reason to believe that he had ceased to be. On the contrary, from his point of

view, any sudden chance would be likely to draw attention to himself. He would, probably, for a time at least,

continue to perform his duties. There was no reason to suppose that he was going under an assumed name.

Why should he change his name in a country where no one knew his original one? I therefore organized my

Street Arab detective corps, and sent them systematically to every cab proprietor in London until they

ferreted out the man that I wanted. How well they succeeded, and how quickly I took advantage of it, are still

fresh in your recollection. The murder of Stangerson was an incident which was entirely unexpected, but

which could hardly in any case have been prevented. Through it, as you know, I came into possession of the

pills, the existence of which I had already surmised. You see the whole thing is a chain of logical sequences

"It is wonderful!" I cried. "Your merits should be publicly recognized. You should publish an account of the

"You may do what you like, Doctor," he answered. "See here!" he continued, handing a paper over to me,

It was the Echo for the day, and the paragraph to which he pointed was devoted to the case in question.

"The public," it said, "have lost a sensational treat through the sudden death of the man Hope, who was

suspected of the murder of Mr. Enoch Drebber and of Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The details of the case will

probably be never known now, though we are informed upon good authority that the crime was the result of

an old standing and romantic feud, in which love and Mormonism bore a part. It seems that both the victims

belonged, in their younger days, to the Latter Day Saints, and Hope, the deceased prisoner, hails also from

Salt Lake City. If the case has had no other effect, it, at least, brings out in the most striking manner the

efficiency of our detective police force, and will serve as a lesson to all foreigners that they will do wisely to

settle their feuds at home, and not to carry them on to British soil. It is an open secret that the credit of this

smart capture belongs entirely to the wellknown Scotland Yard officials, Messrs. Lestrade and Gregson.

The man was apprehended, it appears, in the rooms of a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who has himself, as an

amateur, shown some talent in the detective line, and who, with such instructors, may hope in time to attain

to some degree of their skill. It is expected that a testimonial of some sort will be presented to the two officers

"Didn't I tell you so when we started?" cried Sherlock Holmes with a laugh. "That's the result of all our Study

"Never mind," I answered, "I have all the facts in my journal, and the public shall know them. In the

meantime you must make yourself contented by the consciousness of success, like the Roman miser

* Heber C. Kemball, in one of his sermons, alludes to his hundred wives under this endearing epithet.