"'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of theflock.'
"'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.'
"Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the birdall the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he wasa man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laugheduntil he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. Myheart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and Iknew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird,rushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard. Therewas not a bird to be seen there.
"'Where are they all, Maggie?' I cried.
"'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.'
"'Which dealer's?'
"'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.'
"'But was there another with a barred tail?' I asked, 'the sameas the one I chose?'
"'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could nevertell them apart.'
"Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as myfeet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold thelot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where theyhad gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has alwaysanswered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad.Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now--and now I am myselfa branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for whichI sold my character. God help me! God help me!" He burst intoconvulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.
There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing andby the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes' finger-tips upon theedge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door.
"Get out!" said he.
"What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!"
"No more words. Get out!"
And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter uponthe stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of runningfootfalls from the street.
"After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand for hisclay pipe, "I am not retained by the police to supply theirdeficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing;but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case mustcollapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is justpossible tha
t I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrongagain; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, andyou make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season offorgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular andwhimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If youwill have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will beginanother investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chieffeature."
VIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND
On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which Ihave during the last eight years studied the methods of my friendSherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large numbermerely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he didrather for the love of his art than for the acquirement ofwealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigationwhich did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic.Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any whichpresented more singular features than that which was associatedwith the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.The events in question occurred in the early days of myassociation with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelorsin Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed themupon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at thetime, from which I have only been freed during the last month bythe untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. Itis perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for Ihave reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to thedeath of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter evenmore terrible than the truth.
It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning tofind Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of mybed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on themantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, Iblinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a littleresentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.
"Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's thecommon lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, sheretorted upon me, and I on you."
"What is it, then--a fire?"
"No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in aconsiderable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. Sheis waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wanderabout the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knocksleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it issomething very pressing which they have to communicate. Should itprove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish tofollow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I shouldcall you and give you the chance."
"My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything."
I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in hisprofessional investigations, and in admiring the rapiddeductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on alogical basis with which he unravelled the problems which weresubmitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready ina few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. Alady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting inthe window, rose as we entered.
"Good-morning, madam," said Holmes cheerily. "My name is SherlockHolmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson,before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I amglad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light thefire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hotcoffee, for I observe that you are shivering."
"It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a lowvoice, changing her seat as requested.
"What, then?"
"It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror." She raised her veil asshe spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiablestate of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restlessfrightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her featuresand figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shotwith premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard.Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick,all-comprehensive glances.
"You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward andpatting her forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have nodoubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see."