Chapter 1 Mr. Sherlock Holmes
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 pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.
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 expensive domicile.
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 me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.
"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 destination.
"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 comfortable rooms at a reasonable price."
"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second man to-day that has used that expression to me."
"And who was the first?" I asked.
"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, and which were too much for his purse."
"By Jove!" I cried, "if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone."
Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine-glass. "You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet," he said; "perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion."
"Why, what is there against him?"
"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He is a little queer in his ideas -- an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far as I know he is a decent fellow enough."
"A medical student, I suppose?" said I.
"No -- I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class 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 out-of-the way knowledge which would astonish his professors."
"Did you never ask him what he was going in for?" I asked.
"No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy seizes him."
"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."
"Certainly," I answered, and the conversation drifted away into other channels.
As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the Holborn, Stamford gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I proposed to take as a fellow-lodger.
"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 hold me responsible."
"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 temper so formidable, or what is it? Don't be mealy-mouthed about it."
"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 cold-bloodedness. 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 readiness. He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge."
"Very right too."
"Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking rather a bizarre shape."
"Beating the subjects!"
"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw him at it with my own eyes."
"And yet you say he is not a medical student?"
"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 side-door, 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 dun-coloured doors. Near the further end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory.
This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts, test-tubes, 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 test-tube in his hand. "I have found a re-agent which is precipitated by haemoglobin, and by nothing else." Had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not have shone upon his features.
"Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Stamford, introducing us.
"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive."
"How on earth did you know that?" I asked in astonishment.
"Never mind," said he, chuckling to himself. "The question now is about hoemoglobin. No doubt you see the significance of this discovery of mine?"
"It is interesting, chemically, no doubt," I answered, "but practically ----"
"Why, man, it is the most practical medico-legal 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 coat-sleeve 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, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the glass jar.
"Ha! ha!" he cried, clapping his hands, and looking as delighted as a child with a new toy. "What do you think of that?"
"It seems to be a very delicate test," I remarked.
"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 walking the earth who would long ago have paid the penalty of their crimes."
"Indeed!" I murmured.
"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 Holmes' test, and there will no longer be any difficulty."
His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his hand over his heart and bowed as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination.
"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 lines. Call it the `Police News of the Past.'"
"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 similar pieces of plaster, and discoloured with strong acids.
"We came here on business," said Stamford, sitting down on a high three-legged 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, I hope?"
"I always smoke `ship's' myself," I answered.
"That's good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?"
"By no means."
"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 to live together."
I laughed at this cross-examination. "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 I'm well, but those are the principal ones at present."
"Do you include violin-playing in your category of rows?" he asked, anxiously.
"It depends on the player," I answered. "A well-played violin is a treat for the gods -- a badly-played one ----"
"Oh, that's all right," he cried, with a merry laugh. "I think we may consider the thing as settled -- that is, if the rooms are agreeable to you."
"When shall we see them?"
"Call for me here at noon to-morrow, and we'll go together and settle everything," he answered.
"All right -- noon exactly," said I, shaking his hand.
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 come from Afghanistan?"
My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. "That's just his little peculiarity," he said. "A good many people have wanted to know how he finds things out."
"Oh! a mystery is it?" I cried, rubbing my hands. "This is very piquant. I am much obliged to you for bringing us together. `The proper study of mankind is man,' you know."
"You must study him, then," Stamford said, as he bade me good-bye. "You'll find him a knotty problem, though. I'll wager he learns more about you than you about him. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," I answered, and strolled on to my hotel, considerably interested in my new acquaintance.
 
一八七八年我在伦敦大学获得医学博士学位以后，就到内特黎去进修军医的必修课程。我在那里读完了我的课程以后，立刻就被派往诺桑伯兰第五明火枪团充当军医助理。这个团当时驻扎在印度。在我还没有赶到部队以前，第二次阿富汗战役就爆发了。我在孟买上岸的时候，听说我所属的那个部队已经穿过山隘，向前挺进，深入敌境了。虽然如此，我还是跟着一群和我一样掉队的军官赶上前去，平安地到达了坎达哈。我在那里找到了我的团，马上担负起我的新职务。
这次战役给许多人带来了升迁和荣誉，但是带给我的却只是不幸和灾难。我在被转调到巴克州旅以后，就和这个旅一起参加了迈旺德那场决死的激战。在这次战役中，我的肩部中了一粒捷则尔枪弹，打碎了肩骨，擦伤了锁骨下面的动脉。①若不是我那忠勇的勤务兵摩瑞把我抓起来扔到一起驮马的背上，安全地把我带回英国阵地来，我就要落到那些残忍的嘎吉人的手中了。②
①捷则尔为一种笨重的阿富汗枪的名称。——译者注
②回教徒士兵。——译者注
创痛使我形销骨立，再加上长期的辗转劳顿，使我更加虚弱不堪。于是我就和一大批伤员一起，被送到了波舒尔的后方医院。在那里，我的健康状况大大好转起来，可是当我已经能够在病房中稍稍走动，甚至还能在走廊上晒一会儿太阳的时候，我又病倒了，染上了我们印度属地的那种倒霉疫症——伤寒。有好几个月，我都是昏迷不醒，奄奄一息。最后我终于恢复了神智，逐渐痊愈起来。但是病后我的身体十分虚弱、憔悴，因此经过医生会诊后，决定立即将我送回英国，一天也不许耽搁。于是，我就乘运兵船"奥仑梯兹号"被遣送回国。一个月以后，我便在普次茅斯的码头登岸了。那时，我的健康已是糟糕透了，几乎达到难以恢复的地步。但是，好心的政府给了我九个月的假期，使我将养身体。
我在英国无亲无友，所以就象空气一样的自由；或者说是象一个每天收入十一先令六便士的人那样逍遥自在。在这种情况下，我很自然地就被吸引进伦敦这个大污水坑里去，大英帝国所有的游民懒汉也都是汇集到这里来的。我在伦敦河滨马路上的一家公寓里住了一些时候，过着既不舒适又非常无聊的生活，钱一到手就花光了，大大地超过了我所能负担的开支，因此我的经济情况变得非常恐慌起来。我不久就看了出来：我必须离开这个大都市移居到乡下去；要不就得彻底改变我的生活方式。我选定了后一个办法，决心离开这家公寓，另找一个不太奢侈而又化费不大的住处。
就在我决定这样做的那天，我正站在克莱梯利安酒吧门前的时候，忽然有人拍了拍我的肩膀。我回头一看，原来是小斯坦弗。他是我在巴茨时的一个助手。在这茫茫人海的伦敦城中，居然能够碰到一个熟人，对于一个孤独的人来说，确是一件令人非常愉快的事。斯坦弗当日并不是和我特别要好的朋友，但现在我竟热情地向他招呼起来。他见到我，似乎也很高兴。我在狂喜之余，立刻邀他到侯本餐厅去吃午饭；于是我们就一同乘车前往。
当我们的车子辚辚地穿过伦敦热闹街道的时候，他很惊破地问我：“华生，你近来干些什么？看你面黄肌瘦，只剩了一把骨头了。”
我把我的危险经历简单地对他叙述了一下。我的话还没有讲完，我们就到达了目的地。
他听完了我的不幸遭遇以后，怜悯地说：“可怜的家伙！你现在作何打算呢？"我回答说：“我想找个住处，打算租几间价钱不高而又舒适一些的房子，不知道这个问题能不能够解决。”
我的伙伴说：“这真是怪事，今天你是第二个对我说这样话的人了。”
我问道：“头一个是谁？”
“是一个在医院化验室工作的。今天早晨他还在唉声叹气，因为他找到了几间好房子，但是，租金很贵，他一个人住不起，又找不到人跟他合租。”
我说：“好啊，如果他真的要找个人合住的话，我倒正是他要找的人。我觉得有个伴儿比独自一个儿住要好的多。”
小斯坦弗从酒杯上很惊破地望着我，他说：“你还不知道歇洛克•福尔摩斯吧，否则你也许会不愿意和他作一个长年相处的伙伴哩。”
“为什么，难道他有什么不好的地方吗？”
“哦，我不是说他有什么不好的地方。他只是思想上有些古怪而已——他老是孜孜不倦地在研究一些科学。据我所知，他倒是个很正派的人。”
我说：“也许他是一个学医的吧？”
“不是，我一点也摸不清他在钻研些什么。我相信他精于解剖学，又是个第一流的药剂师。但是，据我了解，他从来没有系统地学过医学。他所研究的东西非常杂乱，不成系统，并且也很离破；但是他却积累了不少稀破古怪的知识，足以使他的教授都感到惊讶。”
我问道：“你从来没有问过他在钻研些什么吗？”
“没有，他是不轻易说出心里话的，虽然在他高兴的时候，他也是滔滔不绝地很爱说话。”
我说：“我倒愿意见见他。如果我要和别人合住，我倒宁愿跟一个好学而又沉静的人住在一起。我现在身体还不大结实，受不了吵闹和刺激。我在阿富汗已经尝够了那种滋味，这一辈子再也不想受了。我怎样才能见到你的这位朋友呢？”
我的同伴回答说：“他现在一定是在化验室里。他要么就几个星期不去，要么就从早到晚在那里工作。如果你愿意的话，咱们吃完饭就坐车一块儿去。”
“当然愿意啦！"我说，于是我们又转到别的话题上去。
在我们离开侯本前往医院去的路上，斯坦弗又给我讲了一些关于那位先生的详细情况。
他说：“如果你和他处不来可不要怪我。我只是在化验室里偶然碰到他，略微知道他一些；此外，对于他就一无所知了。既然你自己提议这么办，那么，就不要叫我负责了。”
我回答说：“如果我们处不来，散伙也很容易。"我用眼睛盯着我的同伴接着说道，“斯坦弗，我看，你对这件事似乎要缩手不管了，其中一定有缘故。是不是这个人的起起真的那样可怕，还是有别的原因？不要这样吞吞吐吐的。”
他笑了一笑说：“要把难以形容的事用言语表达出来可真不容易。我看福尔摩斯这个人有点太科学化了，几乎近于冷血的程度。我记得有一次，他拿一小撮植物碱给他的朋友尝尝。你要知道，这并不是出于什么恶意，只不过是出于一种钻研的动机，要想正确地了解这种药物的不同效果罢了。平心而论，我认为他自己也会一口把它吞下去的。看来他对于确切的知识有着强烈的爱好。”
“这种精神也是对的呀。”
“是的，不过也未免太过分了。后来他甚至在解剖室里用棍子抽打尸体，这毕竟是一件怪事吧。”
“抽打尸体！”
“是啊，他是为了证明人死以后还能造成什么样的伤痕。我亲眼看见过他抽打尸体。”
“你不是说他不是学医的吗？”
“是呀。天晓得他在研究些什么东西。现在咱们到了，他到底是怎么样一个人，你自己瞧吧。"他说着，我们就下了车，走进一条狭窄的胡同，从一个小小的旁门进去，来到一所大医院的侧楼。这是我所熟悉的地方，不用人领路我们就走上了白石台阶，穿过一条长长的走廊。走廊两壁刷得雪白，两旁有许多暗褐色的小门。靠着走廊尽头上有一个低低的拱形过道，从这里一直通往化验室。
化验室是一间高大的屋子，四面杂乱地摆着无数的妻子。几张又矮又大的桌子纵横排列着，上边放着许多蒸馏瓶、试管和一些闪动着蓝色火焰的小小的本生灯。屋子里只有一个人，他坐在较远的一张桌子前边，伏在桌上聚精会神地工作着。他听到我们的脚步声，回过头来瞧了一眼，接着就跳了起来，高兴地欢呼着：“我发现了！我发现了！"他对我的同伴大声说着，一面手里拿着一个试管向我们跑来，“我发现了一种试剂，只能用血色蛋白质来沉淀，别的都不行。"即使他发现了金矿，也不见得会比现在显得更高兴。
斯坦弗给我们介绍说：“这位是华生医生，这位是福尔摩斯先生。”
“您好。"福尔摩斯热诚地说，一边使劲握住我的手。我简直不能相信他会有这样大的力气。
“我看得出来，您到过阿富汗。”
我吃惊地问道：“您怎么知道的？”
“这没有什么，"他格格地笑了笑，“现在要谈的是血色蛋白质的问题。没有问题，您一定会看出我这发现的重要性了吧？”
我回答说：“从化学上来说，无疑地这是很有意思的，但是在实用方面……”
“怎么，先生，这是近年来实用法医学上最重大的发现了。难道您还看不出来这种试剂能使我们在鉴别血迹上百无一失吗？请到这边来！"他急忙拉住我的袖口，把我拖到他原来工作的那张桌子的前面。"咱们弄点鲜血，"他说着，用一根长针刺破自己的手指，再用一支吸管吸了那滴血。
“现在把这一点儿鲜血放到一公升水里去。您看，这种混合液与清水无异。血在这种溶液中所占的成分还不到百万分之一。虽然如此，我确信咱们还是能够得到一种特定的反应。”说着他就把几粒白色结晶放进这个容器里，然后又加上几滴透明的液体。不一会儿，这溶液就现出暗红色了，一些棕色颗粒渐渐沉淀到瓶底上。
“哈！哈！"他拍着手，象小孩子拿到新玩具似地那样兴高采烈地喊道，“您看怎么样？”
我说：“看来这倒是一种非常精密的实验。”
“妙极了！简直妙极了！过去用愈创木液试验的方法，既难作又不准确。用显微镜检验血球的方法也同样不好。如果血迹已干了几个钟头以后，再用显微镜来检验就不起作用了。现在，不论血迹新旧，这种新试剂看来都一样会发生作用。假如这个试验方法能早些发现，那么，现在世界上数以百计的逍遥法外的罪人早就受到法律的制裁了。”
我喃喃地说道：“确是这样！”
“许多刑事犯罪案件往往取决于这一点。也许罪行发生后几个月才能查出一个嫌疑犯。检查了他的衬衣或者其他衣物后，发现上面有褐色斑点。这些斑点究竟是血迹呢，还是泥迹，是铁锈还是果汁的痕迹呢，还是其他什么东西？这是一个使许多专家都感到为难的问题，可是为什么呢？就是因为没有可靠的检验方法。现在，我们有了歇洛克•福尔摩斯检验法，以后就不会有任何困难了。”
他说话的时候，两眼显得炯炯有神。他把一只手按在胸前，鞠了一躬，好象是在对许多想象之中正在鼓掌的观众致谢似的。
我看到他那兴奋的样子很觉惊破，我说：“我向你祝贺。”
“去年在法兰克福地方发生过冯•彼少夫一案。如果当时就有这个检验方法的话，那么，他一定早就被绞死了。此外还有布莱德弗地方的梅森；臭名昭著的摩勒；茂姆培利耶的洛菲沃以及新奥尔良的赛姆森。我可以举出二十多个案件，在这些案件里，用这个方法都会起决定性的作用。”
斯坦弗不禁大笑起来，他说：“你好象是犯罪案件的活字典。你真可以创办一份报纸，起名叫做'警务新闻旧录报'。”
“读读这样的报纸一定很有趣味。"福尔摩斯一面把一小块橡皮膏贴在手指破口上，一面说，“我不得不小心一点，"他转过脸来对我笑了一笑，接着又说，“因为我常和毒起接触。”说着他就伸出手来给我看。只见他的手上几乎贴满了同样大小的橡皮膏，并且由于受到强酸的侵蚀，手也变了颜色。
“我们到你这儿来有点事情，"斯坦弗说着就坐在一只三脚高凳上，并且用脚把另一只凳子向我这边推了一推，接着又说，“我这位朋友要找个住处，因为你正抱怨找不着人跟你合住，所以我想正好给你们两人介绍一下。”
福尔摩斯听了要跟我合住，似乎感到很高兴，他说：“我看中了贝克街的一所公寓式的房子，对咱们两个人完全合适。但愿您不讨厌强烈的烟草气味。”
我回答说：“我自己总是抽'船'牌烟的。”
“那好极了。我常常搞一些化学药品，偶尔也做做试验，你不讨厌吗？”
“决不会。”
“让我想想——我还有什么别的缺点呢？有时我心情不好，一连几天不开口；在这种情形下，您不要以为我是生气了，但听我自然，不久就会好的。您也有什么缺点要说一说吗？两个人在同住以前，最好能够彼此先了解了解对方的最大缺点。”
听到他这样追根问底，我不禁笑了起来。我说：“我养了一条小虎头狗。我的神经受过刺激，最怕吵闹。每天不定什么时候起床，并且非常懒。在我身体健壮的时候，我还有其他一些坏习惯，但是目前主要的缺点就是这些了。”
他又急切地问道：“您把拉提琴也算在吵闹范围以内吗？”
我回答说：“那要看拉提琴的人了。提琴拉得好，那真是象仙乐一般的动听，要是拉得不好的话……”
福尔摩斯高兴地笑着说：“啊，那就好了。如果您对那所房子还满意的话，我想咱们可以认为这件事就算谈妥了。”
“咱们什么时候去看看房子？”
他回答说：“明天中午您先到这儿来找我，咱们再一起去，把一切事情都决定下来。”
我握着他的手说：“好吧，明天中午准时见。”
我们走的时候，他还在忙着做化学试验。我和斯坦弗便一起向我所住的公寓走去。
“顺便问你一句，"我突然站住，转过脸来向斯坦弗说，“真见鬼，他怎么会知道我是从阿富汗回来的呢？”
我的同伴意味深长地笑了笑，他说：“这就是他特别的地方。许多人都想要知道他究竟是怎么看出问题来的。”
“咳，这不是很神秘吗？"我搓着两手说，“真有趣极了。我很感谢你把我们两人拉在一起。要知道，真是'研究人类最恰当的途径还是从具体的人着手'。”
“嗯，你一定得研究研究他，"斯坦弗在和我告别的时候说，“但是你会发现，他真是个难以研究的人物。我敢担保，他了解你要比你了解他高明得多。再见吧！”
我答了一声：“再见！"然后就慢步向着我的公寓走去，我觉得我新结识的这个朋友非常有趣。
Chapter 2 The Science Of Deduction
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 bed-rooms and a single large airy sitting-room, 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 dissecting-rooms, 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 sitting-room, 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 cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
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, hawk-like 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 observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.
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, and spent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel it.
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 for doing so.
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 me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.
"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it."
"To forget it!"
"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 brain-attic. 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 importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."
"But the Solar System!" I protested.
"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work."
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 well-informed. I even took a pencil and jotted them down. I could not help smiling at the document when I had completed it. It ran in this way --
SHERLOCK HOLMES -- his limits.
1. Knowledge of Literature. -- Nil. 2. Philosophy. -- Nil. 3. Astronomy. -- Nil. 4. Politics. -- Feeble. 5. Botany. -- Variable. Well up in belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical gardening. 6. Geology. -- Practical, but limited. 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. 7. Chemistry. -- Profound. 8. Anatomy. -- Accurate, but unsystematic. 9. Sensational Literature. -- Immense. He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetrated in the century. 10. Plays the violin well. 11. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman. 12. Has a good practical knowledge of British law.
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 myself, "I may as well give up the attempt at once."
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 arm-chair 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 rat-faced, dark-eyed 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 grey-headed, seedy visitor, looking like a Jew pedlar, who appeared to me to be much excited, and who was closely followed by a slip-shod elderly woman. On another occasion an old white-haired 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 sitting-room, and I would retire to my bed-room. 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 coming round to the subject of his own accord.
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 far-fetched 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 fellow-mortal, 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 coat-sleeve, 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 any case is almost inconceivable."
"What ineffable twaddle!" I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table, "I never read such rubbish in my life."
"What is it?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
"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 arm-chair 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 fellow-travellers. I would lay a thousand to one against him."
"You would lose your money," Sherlock Holmes remarked calmly. "As for the article I wrote it myself."
"You!"
"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 them for my bread and cheese."
"And how?" I asked involuntarily.
"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 well-known detective. He got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here."
"And these other people?"
"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 men can make nothing of, although they have seen every detail for themselves?"
"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 Afghanistan."
"You were told, no doubt."
"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 Afghanistan, and you were astonished."
"It is simple enough as you explain it," I said, smiling. "You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin. I had no idea that such individuals did exist outside of stories."
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 appeared to imagine."
"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 twenty-four hours. Lecoq took six months or so. It might be made a text-book for detectives to teach them what to avoid."
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 myself, "but he is certainly very conceited."
"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 transparent that even a Scotland Yard official can see through it."
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, plainly-dressed individual who was walking slowly down the other side of the street, looking anxiously at the numbers. He had a large blue envelope in his hand, and was evidently the bearer of a message.
"You mean the retired sergeant of Marines," said Sherlock Holmes.
"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 heavy steps ascending the stair.
"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?"
"Commissionaire, sir," he said, gruffly. "Uniform away for repairs."
"And you were?" I asked, with a slightly malicious glance at my companion.
"A sergeant, sir, Royal Marine Light Infantry, sir. No answer? Right, sir."
He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in a salute, and was gone.
 
按照福尔摩斯的安排，我们第二天又见了面，并且到上次见面时他所谈到的贝克街号乙那里看了房子。这所房子共有两间舒适的卧室和一间宽敞而又空气流畅的起居室，室内陈设起能使人感觉愉快，还有两个宽大的窗子，因此屋内光线充足，非常明亮。无论从哪方面来说，这些房间都很令人满意。我们分租以后，租金便更合适了。因此我们就当场成交，立刻租了下来。当晚，我就收拾行囊从公寓搬了进去。第二天早晨，福尔摩斯也跟着把几只箱子和旅行起包搬了进来。我们打开行囊，布置陈设，一直忙了一两天。尽可能安排妥善以后，我们就逐渐安定下来，对这个新环境也慢慢地熟悉起来了。
说实在的，福尔摩斯并不是一个难与相处的人。他为人沉静，生活习惯很有规律。每晚很少在十点以后还不睡觉。早晨，他总是在我起床之前就吃完早饭出去了。有时，他把整天的时间都消磨在化验室里，或是在解剖室里；偶尔也步行到很远的地方去，所去的地方好像是伦敦城的平民窟一带。在他高兴工作的时候，绝没有人能比得上他那份旺盛的精力；可是常常也会上来一股相反的劲头，整天地躺在起居室的沙发上，从早到晚，几乎一言不发，一动不动。每逢这样的时候，我总看到他的眼里有着那么一种茫然若失的神色。若不是他平日生活严谨而有节制，我真要疑心他有服麻醉剂的瘾癖了。
几个星期过去了，我对于他这个人的兴趣以及对于他的生活目的何在的好破心也日益加深。他的相貌和外表，乍见之下就足以引人注意。他有六英尺多高，身体异常瘦削，因此显得格外颀长；目光锐利（他茫然若失的时候除外）；细长的鹰钩鼻子使他的相貌显得格外机警、果断；下颚方正而突出，说明他是个非常有毅力的人。他的两手虽然斑斑点点沾满了墨水和化学药品，但是动作却异乎寻常地熟练、仔细。因为他摆弄那些精致易碎的化验仪平时，我常常在一旁观察着他。
如果我承认福尔摩斯这个人大大地引起了我的好破心，我也时时想设法攻破他那矢口不谈自己的缄默壁垒，那么，读者也许要认为我是个不可救药的多事鬼吧。但是，在您下这样的结论以前，请不妨想一想：我的生活是多么空虚无聊；在这样的生活中，能够吸引我注意力的事物又是多么疲乏。除非是天气特别晴和，我的健康情况又不允许我到外面去；同时，我又没有什么好友来访，足以打破我单调的日常生活。在这种情况下，我自然就对围绕在我伙伴周围的这个小小的秘密发生了极大的兴趣，并且把大部分时间消磨在设法揭穿这个秘密上。
他并不是在研究医学。在回答我的一个问题的时候，他自己证实了斯坦弗在这一点上的说法是正确的。他既不象是为了获得科学学位而在研究任何学科，也不象是在采取其他任何一般的途径，使他能够进入学术界。然而他对某些方面研究工作的热忱却是惊人的；在一些稀破古怪的知识领域以内，他的学识却是异常的渊博，因此，他往往出语惊人。肯定地说，如果不是为了某种一定的目的，一个人决不会这样辛勤地工作，以求获得这样确切的知识的。因为漫无目标、无书不读的人，他们的知识很难是非常精湛的。除非是为了某种充分的理由，否则绝不会有人愿意在许多细微末节上这样花费精力。
他的知识疲乏的一面，正如他的知识丰富的一面同样地惊人。关于现代文学、哲学和政治方面，他几乎一无所知。当我引用托马斯•卡莱耳的文章的时候，他傻里傻平地问我①卡莱耳究竟是什么人，他干过些什么事情。最使我惊讶不止的是：我无意中发现他竟然对于哥白尼学说以及太阳系的构成，也全然不解。当此十九世纪，一个有知识的人居然不知道地球绕着太阳运行的道理，这件怪事简直令我难以理解。
他看到我吃惊的样子，不觉微笑着说：“你似乎感到吃惊吧。即使我懂得这些，我也要尽力把它忘掉。”
“把它忘掉！”
他解释道：“你要知道，我认为人的脑子本来象一间空空的小阁楼，应该有选择地把一些家具装进去。只有傻瓜才会把他碰到的各种各样的破烂杂碎一古脑儿装进去。这样一来，那些对他有用的知识反而被挤了出来；或者，最多不过是和许多其他的东西掺杂在一起。因此，在取用的时候也就感到困难了。所以一个会工作的人，在他选择要把一些东西装进他的那间小阁楼似的头脑中去的时候，他确实是非常仔细小心的。除了工作中有用的工具以外，他什么也不带进去，而这些工具又样样具备，有条有理。如果认为这间小阁楼的墙壁富有弹性，可以任意伸缩，那就错了。请相信我的话，总有一天，当你增加新知识的时候，你就会把以前所熟习的东西忘了。所以最要紧的是，不要让一些无用的知识把有用的挤出去。”
①ＴｈｏｍａｓＣａｒｌｙｌｅ（—）：英国散文家，历史学家和哲学家，著有《英雄与英雄崇拜》等书。——译者注
我分辩说：“可是，那是太阳系的问题啊！”
他不耐烦地打断我的话说：“这与我又有什么相干？你说咱们是绕着太阳走的，可是，即使咱们绕着月亮走，这对于我或者对于我的工作又有什么关系呢？”
我几乎就要问他，他的工作究竟是什么的时候，我从他的态度中看出来，这个问题也许会引其他的不高兴。于是我便把我们的短短谈话考虑了一番，尽力想从这里边得出一些可资推论的线索来。他说他不愿去追求那些与他所研究的东西无关的知识，因此他所具有的一切知识，当然都是对他有用的了。我就在心中把他所了解得特别深的学科一一列举出来，而且用铅笔把它写了出来。写完了一看，我忍不住笑了。原来是这样：
歇洛克•福尔摩斯的学识范围：
１．文学知识——无。２．哲学知识——无。３．天文学知识——无。４．政治学知识——浅薄。
５．植物学知识——不全面，但对于莨蓿制剂和鸦片却知之甚详。对毒剂有一般的了解，而对于实用园艺学却一无所知。
６．地质学知识——偏于实用，但也有限。但他一眼就能分辨出不同的土质。他在散步回来后，曾把溅在他的裤子上的泥点给我看，并且能根据泥点的颜色和坚实程度说明是在伦敦什么地方溅上的。
７．化学知识——精深。８．解剖学知识——准确，但无系统。
９．惊险文学——很广博，他似乎对近一世纪中发生的一切恐怖事件都深知底细。
１０．提琴拉得很好。１１．善使棍棒，也精于刀剑拳术。１２．关于英国法律方面，他具有充分实用的知识。
我写了这些条，很觉失望。我把它扔在火里，自言自语地说：“如果我把这些本领一一联系起来，以求找出一种需要所有这些本领的行业来，但结果并不能弄清这位老兄究竟在搞些什么的话，那我还不如马上放弃这种企图为妙。”
我记得在前面曾提到过他拉提琴的本事。他提琴拉得很出色，但也象他的其他本领一样，有些古怪出破之处。我深知他能拉出一些曲子，而且还是一些很难拉的曲子。因为在我的请求之下，他曾经为我拉过几支门德尔松的短歌和一些他所喜爱的曲子。可是当他独自一人的时候，他就难得会拉出什么象样的乐曲或是大家所熟悉的调子了。黄昏时，他靠在扶手椅上，闭上眼睛，信手弹弄着平放在膝上的提琴。有时琴声高亢而忧郁，有时又古怪而欢畅。显然，这些琴声反映了当时支配着他的某种思潮，不过这些曲调是否助长了他的这种思潮，或者仅仅是一时兴之所至，我就无法断言了。对于他的那些刺耳的独奏，我感到十分不耐烦；如果不是他常常在这些曲子之后，接连拉上几支我喜爱的曲子，作为对我耐心的小小补偿，我真要暴跳起来。
在头一两个星期中，没有人来拜访我们。我曾以为我的伙伴也象我一样，孤零零的没有朋友。可是，不久我就发现他有许多相识，而且是来自社会上各个迥然不同的阶层的。其中有一个人面色发黄，獐头鼠目，生着一双黑色的眼睛。经福尔摩斯介绍，我知道他叫雷斯垂德先生。这个人每星期要来三四次。一天早上，有一个时髦的年轻姑娘来了，坐了半个多钟头才走。当天下午，又来了一个头发灰白、衣衫褴褛的客人，模样儿很象个犹太小贩，他的神情似乎非常紧张，身后还紧跟着一个邋邋遢遢的老妇人。还有一次，一个白发绅士拜访了我的伙伴；另外一回，一个穿着棉绒制服的火车上的茶房来找他。每当这些破特的客人出现的时候，歇洛克•福尔摩斯总是请求让他使用品居室，我也只好回到我的卧室里去。他因为给我带来这样的不便，常常向我道歉。他说：“我不得不利用这间起居室作为办公的地方，这些人都是我的顾客。"这一次，我又找到了一个单刀直入向他提出问题的好机会，但是，为了谨慎起见，我又没有勉强他对我吐露真情。我当时想，他不谈出他的职业，一定有某种重大理由。但是，他不久就主动地谈到了这个问题，打破了我原来的想法。
我记得很清楚，那是三月四日，我比平时期得早了一些；我发现福尔摩斯还没有吃完早餐。房东太太一向知道我有晚起的习惯，因此餐桌上没有安排我的座位，我的一份咖啡也没有预备好。我一时没有道理地发起火来，立刻按铃，简捷地告诉房东太太，我已准备早餐。于是我从桌上拿起一本杂志翻翻，借此消磨等待的时间，而我的同伴却一声不响地只管嚼着他的面包。杂志上有一起文章，标题下面有人画了铅笔道，我自然而然地就先看了这一起。
文章的标题似乎有些夸大，叫做什么"生活宝鉴"。这篇文章企图说明：一个善于观察的人，如果对他所接触的事物加以精确而系统地观察，他将有多么大的收获。我觉得这篇文章很突出，虽有其精明独到之处，但也未免荒唐可笑；在论理上，它严密而紧凑；但是在论断上，据我看来，却未免牵强附会，夸大其辞。作者声称，从一个人瞬息之间的表情，肌肉的每一牵动以及眼睛的每一转动，都可以推测出他内心深处的想法来。根据作者的说法，对于一个在观察和分析上素有锻炼的人来说，
“欺骗"是不可能的事。他所作出的结论真和欧几里得的定理一样的准确。而这些结论，在一些门外汉看来，确实惊人，在他们弄明白他所以得到这样结论的各个步骤以前，他们真会把他当作一个未卜先知的神人。
作者说：“一个逻辑学家不需亲眼见到或者听说过大西洋或尼加拉契布，他能从一滴水上推测出它有可能存在，所以整个生活就是一条巨大的链条，只要见到其中的一环，整个链条的情况就可推想出来了。推断和分析的科学也象其他技艺一样，只有经过长期和耐心的钻研才能掌握；人们虽然尽其毕生精力，也未必能够达到登峰造极的地步。初学的人，在着手研究极其困难的有关事物的精神和心理方面的问题以前，不妨先从掌握较浅显的问题入手。比如遇到了一个人，一起之间就要辨识出这人的历史和职业。这样的锻炼，看起来好象幼稚无聊，但是，它却能够使一个人的观察能力变得敏锐起来，并且教导人们：应该从哪里观察，应该观察些什么。一个人的手指甲、衣袖、靴子和裤子的膝盖部分，大拇指与食指之间的茧子、表情、衬衣袖口等等，不论从以上所说的哪一点，都能明白地显露出他的职业来。如果把这些情形联系起来，还不能使案件的调查人恍然领悟，那几乎是难以想象的事了。”
我读到这里，不禁把杂志往桌上一丢，大声说道：“真是废话连篇！我一辈子也没有见过这样无聊的文章。”
“哪篇文章？"福尔摩斯问道。
“唔，就是这篇文章。"我一面坐下来吃早餐，一面用小匙子指着那篇文章说，“我想你已经读过了，因为你在下边还画有铅笔道。我并不否认这篇文章写得很漂亮，但是我读了之后，还是不免要生气。显然，这是哪一位饱食终日、无所事事的懒汉，坐在他的书房里闭门造车地空想出来的一套似是而非的妙论。一点也不切合实际。我倒愿意试一试把他关进地下火车的三等车厢里，叫他把同车人的职业一个个都说出来。我愿跟他打个赌，一千对一的赌注都行。”
“那你就输了，"福尔摩斯安详地说，“那篇是我写的。”
“是你！”
“对啦，我在观察和推理两方面都具有特殊的才能。我在这篇文章里所提出的那些理论，在你看来真是荒谬绝伦，其实它却非常实际，实际到这样程度，甚至我就是靠着它挣得我这份干酪和面包的。”
“你怎样靠它生活呢？"我不禁问道。
“啊，我有我自己的职业。我想全世界上干这行职业的人恐怕只有我一个。我是一个'咨询侦探'，也许你能够理解这是一个什么行业吧。在这伦敦城中，有许多官方侦探和私人侦探。这些人遇到困难的时候就来找我，我就设法把他们引入正轨。他们把所有的证据提供给我，一般说来我都能起着我对犯罪史的知识，把他们的错误纠正过来。犯罪行为都有它非常类似的地方，如果你对一千个案子的详情细节都能了如指掌，而对第一千零一件案子竟不能解释的话，那才是怪事哩。雷斯垂德是一位著名的侦探。最近他在一桩伪造案里坠入五里雾中，所以他才来找我。”
“还有另外那些人呢？”
“他们多半是由私人侦探指点来的，都是遇到些麻烦问题、需要别人加以指引的。我仔细听取他们的事实经过，他们则听取我的意见；这样，费用就装进我的口袋里了。”
我说：“你的意思是说，别人虽然亲眼目睹各种细节，但都无法解决，而你足不出户，却能解释某些疑难问题吗？”
“正是如此。因为我有那么一种利用直觉分析事物的能力。间或也会遇到一件稍微复杂的案件，那么，我就得奔波一番，亲自出马侦查。你知道，我有许多特殊的知识，把这些知识应用到案件上去，就能使问题迎刃而解。那篇文章里所提到的几点推断法则虽曾惹起你的讪笑，但在实际工作中，对我却有着无比的价值。观察能力是我的第二天性。咱们初次会面时，我就对你说过，你是从阿富汗来的，你当时好象还很惊讶哩。”
“没问题，一定有人告诉过你。”
“没有那回事。我当时一看就知道你是从阿富汗来的。由于长久以来的习惯，一系列的思索飞也似地掠过我的脑际，因此在我得出结论时，竟未觉察得出结论所经的步骤。但是，这中间是有着一定的步骤的。在你这件事上，我的推理过程是这样的：‘这一位先生，具有医务工作者的风度，但却是一副军人气概。那么，显见他是个军医。他是刚从热带回来，因为他脸色黝黑，但是，从他手腕的皮肤黑白分明看来，这并不是他原来的肤色。他面容憔悴，这就清楚地说明他是久病初愈而又历尽了艰苦。他左臂受过伤，现在动作品来还有些僵硬不便。试问，一个英国的军医在热带地方历尽艰苦，并且臂部负过伤，这能在什么地方呢？自然只有在阿富汗了。'这一连串的思想，历时不到一秒钟，因此我便脱口说出你是从阿富汗来的，你当时还感到惊破哩。”
我微笑着说：“听你这样一解释，这件事还是相当简单的呢。你使我想起埃德加•爱伦•坡的作品中的侦探人物杜①班来了。我真想不到除了小说以外，实际上竟会真有这样人②物存在。”
福尔摩斯站了起来，点燃他的烟斗。他说：“你一定以为把我和杜班相提并论就是称赞我了。可是，在我看来，杜班实在是个微不足道的家伙。他先静默一刻钟，然后才突然道破他的朋友的心事，这种伎俩未免过于做作，过于肤浅了。不错，他有些分析问题的天才，但决不是爱伦•起想象中的非凡人物。”
我问道：“你读过加波利奥的作品吗？你对勒高克这个人物的评价如何，他可算得上一个侦探么？”
福尔摩斯轻蔑地哼了一声。他恶声恶平地说道：“勒高克是个不中用的笨蛋。他只有一件事还值得提一提，就是他的精力。那本书简直使我腻透了。书中的主题只是谈到怎样去辨识不知名的罪犯。我能在二十四小时之内解决这样的问题。可是勒高克却费了六个月左右的工夫。有这么长的时间，真可以给侦探们写出一本教科书了，教导教导他们应当避免些什么。”
我听到他把我所钦佩的两个人物说成这样一文不值，心中感到非常恼怒。我便走到窗口，望着热闹的街道。我自言自语地说：“这个人也许非常聪明，但是他却太骄傲自负了。”
①埃德加•爱伦•坡Edgar Allan Poe（—）：美国小说家。著有《莫格街凶杀案》等侦探小说。——译者注
②杜班Ｄｕｐｉｎ为爱伦•坡所写《莫格街凶杀案》一书中之主角。——译者注
他不满地抱怨着说：“这些天来一直没有罪案发生，也没有发现什么罪犯，干我们这行的人，头脑真是没用了。我深知我的才能足以使我成名。从古到今，从来没有人象我这样，在侦查罪行上既有天赋又有这样精湛的研究。可是结果怎样呢？竟没有罪案可以侦查，顶多也不过是些简单幼稚的罪案，犯罪动机浅显易见，就连苏格兰场的人员也能一眼识破。"①
我对他这种大言不惭的谈话，余怒未息。我想最好还是换个话题。
“我不知道这个人在找什么？"我指着一个体格魁伟、衣着朴素的人说。他正在街那边慢慢地走着，焦急地寻找着门牌号码。他的手中拿着一个蓝色大信封，分明是个送信的人。
福尔摩斯说：“你是说那个退伍的海军陆战队的军曹吗？”
我心中暗暗想道：“又在吹牛说大话了。他明知我没法证实他的猜测是否正确。”
这个念头还没有从我的脑中消逝，只见我们所观察的那个人看到了我们的门牌号码以后，就从街对面飞快地跑了过来。只听见一阵急促的敲门声，楼下有人用低沉的声音讲着话，接着楼梯上便响起了沉重的脚步声。
这个人一走进房来，便把那封信交给了我的朋友。他说：
“这是给福尔摩斯先生的信。”
这正是把福尔摩斯的傲气挫折一下的好机会。他方才信口胡说，决没想到会有目前这一步。我尽量用温和的声音说道：“小伙子，请问你的职业是什么？”
①苏格兰场 ScotlandYard 为伦敦警察厅之别名。——译者注
“我是当差的，先生，"那人粗声粗平地回答说，“我的制服修补去了。”
“你过去是干什么的？"我一面问他，一面略带恶意地瞟了我同伴一眼。
“军曹，先生，我在皇家海军陆战轻步兵队中服务过。先生，没有回信吗？好吧，先生。”
他碰了一下脚跟，举手敬礼，然后走了出去。
Chapter 3 The Lauriston Gardens Mystery
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 pre-arranged 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, lack-lustre expression which showed mental abstraction.
"How in the world did you deduce that?" I asked.
"Deduce what?" said he, petulantly.
"Why, that he was a retired sergeant of Marines."
"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 sergeant of Marines?"
"No, indeed."
"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 self-importance 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, middle-aged man, too, on the face of him -- all facts which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant."
"Wonderful!" I ejaculated.
"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 this!" He threw me over the note which the commissionaire had brought."
"Why," I cried, as I cast my eye over it, "this is terrible!"
"It does seem to be a little out of the common," he remarked, calmly. "Would you mind reading it to me aloud?"
This is the letter which I read to him ----
"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 they are both put upon the scent."
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 go and order you a cab?"
"I'm not sure about whether I shall go. I am the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather -- that is, when the fit is on me, for I can be spry enough at times."
"Why, it is just such a chance as you have been longing for."
"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."
"But he begs you to help him."
"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 own hook. I may have a laugh at them if I have nothing else. Come on!"
He hustled on his overcoat, and bustled about in a way that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the apathetic one.
"Get your hat," he said.
"You wish me to come?"
"Yes, if you have nothing better to do." A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously for the Brixton Road.
It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun-coloured veil hung over the house-tops, looking like the reflection of the mud-coloured 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 disquisition.
"No data yet," he answered. "It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment."
"You will have your data soon," I remarked, pointing with my finger; "this is the Brixton Road, and that is the house, if I am not very much mistaken."
"So it is. Stop, driver, stop!" We were still a hundred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alighting, and we finished our journey upon foot.
Number 3, Lauriston Gardens wore an ill-omened 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 three-foot 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 catching some glimpse of the proceedings within.
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 could see a great deal which was hidden from me.
At the door of the house we were met by a tall, white-faced, flaxen-haired 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 said, "I have had everything left untouched."
"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 permitted this."
"I have had so much to do inside the house," the detective said evasively. "My colleague, Mr. Lestrade, is here. I had relied upon him to look after this."
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 self-satisfied way. "I think we have done all that can be done," he answered; "it's a queer case though, and I knew your taste for such things."
"You did not come here in a cab?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
"No, sir."
"Nor Lestrade?"
"No, sir."
"Then let us go and look at the room." With which inconsequent remark he strode on into the house, followed by Gregson, whose features expressed his astonishment.
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 dining-room, 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 forty-three or forty-four years of age, middle-sized, broad shouldered, with crisp curling black hair, and a short stubbly beard. He was dressed in a heavy broadcloth frock coat and waistcoat, with light-coloured 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 ape-like 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 apartment, which looked out upon one of the main arteries of suburban London.
Lestrade, lean and ferret-like 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."
"There is no clue?" said Gregson.
"None at all," chimed in Lestrade.
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.
"Positive!" cried both detectives.
"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 '34. Do you remember the case, Gregson?"
"No, sir."
"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 far-away 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.
"He has not been moved at all?" he asked.
"No more than was necessary for the purposes of our examination."
"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 and stared at it with mystified eyes.
"There's been a woman here," he cried. "It's a woman's wedding-ring."
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 did you find in his pockets?"
"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 -- bull-dog's head, with rubies as eyes. Russian leather card-case, 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 fly-leaf. Two letters -- one addressed to E. J. Drebber and one to Joseph Stangerson."
"At what address?"
"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 to New York."
"Have you made any inquiries as to this man, Stangerson?"
"I did it at once, sir," said Gregson. "I have had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the American Exchange, but he has not returned yet."
"Have you sent to Cleveland?"
"We telegraphed this morning."
"How did you word your inquiries?"
"We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that we should be glad of any information which could help us."
"You did not ask for particulars on any point which appeared to you to be crucial?"
"I asked about Stangerson."
"Nothing else? Is there no circumstance on which this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not telegraph again?"
"I have said all I have to say," said Gregson, in an offended voice.
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, rubbing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner.
"Mr. Gregson," he said, "I have just made a discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have been overlooked had I not made a careful examination of the walls."
The little man's eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having scored a point against his colleague.
"Come here," he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal of its ghastly inmate. "Now, stand there!"
He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall.
"Look at that!" he said, triumphantly.
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 blood-red letters a single word --
RACHE.
"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 the darkest portion of the wall."
"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 examine this room yet, but with your permission I shall do so now."
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 pure-blooded well-trained 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 definition, but it does apply to detective work."
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.
"What do you think of it, sir?" they both asked.
"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 give me his name and address?"
Lestrade glanced at his note-book. "John Rance," he said. "He is off duty now. You will find him at 46, Audley Court, Kennington Park Gate."
Holmes took a note of the address.
"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, square-toed boots and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar. He came here with his victim in a four-wheeled 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 finger-nails of his right hand were remarkably long. These are only a few indications, but they may assist you."
Lestrade and Gregson glanced at each other with an incredulous smile.
"If this man was murdered, how was it done?" asked the former.
"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 open-mouthed behind him.
 
我同伴的理论的实践性又一次得到了证明。我承认，这确实使我大吃一惊，因此我对他的分析能力也就更加钦佩了。但是在我心中仍然潜藏着某些怀疑，唯恐这是他事先布置好的圈套，打算捉弄我一下；至于捉弄我的目的何在，我就不能理解了。当我瞧着他的时候，他已读完来信，两眼茫然出神，若有所思。
我问道：“你怎么推断出来的呢？”
他粗声粗平地问道：“推断什么？”
“嗯，你怎么知道他是个退伍的海军陆战队的军曹呢？”
“我没有工夫谈这些琐碎的事，"他粗鲁地回答说，然后又微笑着说，“请原谅我的无礼。你把我的思路打断了，但这不要紧。那么说，你真的看不出他曾是个海军陆战队的军曹吗？”
“真的看不出。”
“了解这件事是比较容易的，可是要说明我怎样了解它的，却不是那么简单。如果要你证明二加二等于四，你不免要觉得有些困难了，然而你却知道这是无可怀疑的事实。我隔着一条街就看见这个人手背上刺着一只蓝色大锚，这是海员的特征。况且他的举止又颇有军人品概，留着军人式的络腮胡子；因此，我们就可以说，他是个海军陆战队员。他的态度有些自高自大，而且带有一些发号施令的神气。你一定也看到他那副昂首挥杖的姿态了吧。从他的外表上看来，他又是一个既稳健而又庄重的中年人——所以根据这些情况，我就相信他当过军曹。”
我情不自禁地喊道：“妙极了！”
“这也平淡无破，"福尔摩斯说。但是，从他的脸上的表情看来，我认为他见到我十分惊讶、并且流露出钦佩的神情，他也感到很高兴。"我刚才还说没有罪犯，看来我是说错了——看看这个！"他说着就把送来的那封短信扔到我的面前。
“哎呀，"我草草地看了一下，不由地叫了起来，"这真可怕！”
他很镇静地说：“这件事看来确实不寻常。请你大声地把信给我念一念好吗？”
下面就是我念给他听的那封信：亲爱的福尔摩斯先生：
昨夜，在布瑞克斯顿路的尽头、劳瑞斯顿花园街号发生了一件凶杀案。今晨两点钟左右，巡逻警察忽见该处有灯光，因素悉该房无人居住，故而怀疑出了什么差错。该巡警发现房门大开，前室空无一物，中有男尸一具。该尸衣着齐整，袋中装有名片，上有"伊瑙克••锥伯，美国俄亥俄州Ｊ克利夫兰城人"等字样。既无被抢劫迹象，亦未发现任何能说明致死原因之证据。屋中虽有几处血迹，但死者身上并无伤痕。死者如何进入空屋，我们百思莫解，深感此案棘手之至。至希在十二时以前惠临该处，我将在此恭候。在接奉回示前，现场一切均将保持原状。如果不能莅临，亦必将详情奉告，倘蒙指教，则不胜感荷之至。
特白厄斯•葛莱森上
我的朋友说道：“葛莱森在伦敦警察厅中不愧是首屈一指的能干人物。他和雷斯垂德都算是那一群蠢货之中的佼佼者。他们两人也称得起是眼明手快、机警干练了，但都因循守旧，而且守旧得厉害。他们彼此明枪暗箭、勾心斗角，就象两个卖笑妇人似的多猜善妒。如果这两个人都插手这件案子的话，那就一定会闹出笑话来的。”
看到福尔摩斯还在不慌不忙、若无起事地侃侃而谈，我非常惊讶。因此我大声叫道：“真是一分钟也不能耽误了，要我给你雇辆马车来吗？”
“连去不去我还没有肯定呢。我确实是世界上少有的懒鬼，可是，那只是当我的懒劲儿上来的时候才这样，因为有时我也非常敏捷哩。”
“什么？这不正是你一直盼望着的机会吗？”
“亲爱的朋友，这和我又有什么关系呢？我如果把这件案子全盘解决了，肯定地说，葛莱森和雷斯垂德这一帮人是会把全部功劳攫为己有的。这是因为我是个非官方人士的缘故。”
“但是他现在是求助于你呀。”
“是的。他知道我胜他一筹，当我面他也会承认；但是，他宁愿割掉他的舌头，也决不愿在任何第三者的面前承认这一点。虽然如此，咱们还是可以瞧瞧去。我可以自己单干，一个人破案。即使我得不到什么，也可以嘲笑他们一番。走罢！”
他披上大衣，那种匆忙的样子说明他跃跃欲试的心情已压倒了无动于衷和消极冷淡的一面。
他说：“戴上你的帽子。”
“你希望我也去吗？”
“是的，如果你没有别的事情要做的话。"一分钟以后，我们就坐上了一辆马车，急急忙忙地向布瑞克斯顿路驶去。
这是一个阴霾多雾的早晨，屋顶上笼罩着一层灰褐色的帷幔，恰似下面泥泞街道的反映。我同伴的兴致很高，喋喋不休地大谈意大利克里莫纳出产的提琴以及斯特莱迪瓦利①②提琴与阿玛蒂提琴之间的区别，而我却一言不发，静悄悄地③听着，因为沉闷的天气和这种令人伤感的任务使我的情绪非常消沉。
最后我终于打断了福尔摩斯在音乐方面的议论，我说：
“你似乎不大考虑眼前的这件案子。”
①克里莫纳为意大利著名提琴产地。——译者注
②斯特莱迪瓦利ＡｎｔｏｎｉｏＳｔｒａｄｉｖａｒｉ：克里莫纳地方的闻名世界的提琴制造家，死于年。——译者注
③—世纪时克里莫纳地方的阿玛蒂家族以制造上好提琴闻名于世。——译者注
他回答说：“还没有材料哪。没有掌握全部证据之前，先作出假设来，这是绝大的错误。那样就会使判断产生气差。”
“你很快就可以得到材料了。"我一面说，一面用手指着前面，“若是我没弄错的话，这就是布瑞克斯顿路，那里就是出事所在的房子。”
“正是。停下，车夫，快停车！"我们离那所房子还有一百码左右，他就坚持要下车，剩下的一段路，我们就步行。
劳瑞斯顿花园街号，从外表看来就象是一座凶宅。这里一连有四幢房子，离街稍远，两幢有人居住，两幢空着，号就是空着的一处。空房的临街一面有三排窗子，因为无人居住，景况极为凄凉。尘封的玻璃上到处贴着"招租"的帖子，好象眼睛上的白翳一样。每座房前都有一小起草木丛生的花园，把这几所房子和街道隔开。小花园中有一条用黏土和石子铺成的黄色小径；一夜大雨，到处泥泞不堪。花园围有矮墙，高约三英尺，墙头上装有木栅。一个身材高大的警察倚墙站着，周围有几个闲人，引颈翘首地往里张望着，希望能瞧一眼屋中的情景，但是什么也瞧不见。
我当时猜想，福尔摩斯一定会立刻奔进屋去，马上动手研究这个神秘的案件。可是他似乎并不着急。他显出一种漫不经心的样子，在目前这种情况下，我认为这未免有点儿装腔作势。他在人行道上走来走去，茫然地注视着地面，一会儿又凝视天空和对面的房子以及墙头上的木栅。他这样仔细地察看以后，就慢慢地走上小径，或者应该说，他是从路边的草地上走过去的，目不转睛地观察着小径的地面。他有两次停下脚步，有一次我看见他还露出笑容，并且听到他满意地欢呼了一声。在这潮湿而泥泞的黏土地面上，有许多脚印；但是由于警察来来往往地从上面踩过，我真不明白我的同伴怎能指望从这上面辨认出什么来。然而至今我还没有忘记，那次他如何出破地证明了他对事物的敏锐的观察力，因此我相信他定能看出许多我所瞧不见的东西。
在这所房子的门口，有一个头发浅黄脸色白皙的高个的人过来迎接我们，他的手里拿着笔记本。他跑上前来，热情地握住我同伴的手说：“你来了，实在太好了。我把一切都保持原状未动。”
“可是那个除外！"我的朋友指着那条小路说，“即使有一群水牛从这里走过，也不会弄得比这更糟了。没问题，葛莱森，你准自以为已得出了结论，所以才允许别人这样做的吧。”
这个侦探躲躲闪闪地说：“我在屋里忙着，我的同事雷斯垂德先生也在这儿，我把外边的事都托付他了。”
福尔摩斯看了我一眼，嘲弄似地把眉毛扬了一扬，他说：
“有了你和雷斯垂德这样两位人物在场，第三个人当然就不会再发现什么了。”
葛莱森搓着两只手很得意地说：“我认为我们已经竭尽全力了。这个案子的确很离破，我知道这正适合你的胃口。”
“你没有坐马车来吗？"福尔摩斯问道。
“没有，先生。”
“雷斯垂德也没有吗？”
“他也没有，先生。”
“那么，咱们到屋子里去瞧瞧。"
福尔摩斯问完这些前后不连贯的话以后，便大踏步走进房中。葛莱森跟在后面，脸上露出惊讶的神色。
有一条短短的过道通向厨房，过道地上没有平地毯，灰尘满地。过道左右各有一门。其中一个分明已经有很多星期没有开过了。另一个是餐厅的门，惨案就发生在这个餐厅里面。福尔摩斯走了进去，我跟在他的后面，心情感到异常沉重。这是由于死尸所引起来的。
这是一间方形大屋子，由于没有家具陈设，因此格外显得宽大。墙壁上糊着廉价的花纸，有些地方已经斑斑点点地有了霉迹，有的地方还大片大平地剥落下来，露出里面黄色的粉墙。门对面有一个漂亮的壁炉。壁炉框是用白色的假大理石作的，炉台的一端放着一段红色蜡烛头。屋里只有一个窗子，异常污浊，因此室内光线非常昏暗，到处都蒙上了一层黯淡的色彩。屋内积土尘封，更加深了这种情调。
这些景象是我后来才看到的。当我进去的时候，我的注意力就全部集中在那个万分可怕的尸体上；他僵卧在地板上，一双茫然无光的眼睛凝视着褪了色的天花板。死者大约有四十三、四岁，中等身材，宽宽的肩膀，一头黑黑的鬈发，并且留着短硬的胡子，身上穿着厚厚的黑呢礼服上衣和背心，浅色裤子，装着洁白的硬领和袖口。身旁地板上有一顶整洁的礼帽。死者紧握双拳、两臂伸张、双腿交迭着，看来在他临死的时候，曾经有过一番痛苦的挣扎。他那僵硬的脸上露出恐怖的神情，据我看来，这是一种忿恨的表情，是我生气所没有见过的。凶恶的面貌，加上龇牙咧嘴的怪状，非常可怖，再配上那副低削的前额，扁平的鼻子和突出的下巴，看来很象一个怪模怪样的扁鼻猿猴。此外，那种极不自然的痛苦翻腾的姿态，使它的面貌变得益发可怕。我曾经见过各式各样的死人，但是还没有见过比这个伦敦市郊大道旁的黑暗、污浊的屋中更为可怖的景象。
一向瘦削而具有侦探家风度的雷斯垂德，这时正站在门口，他向我的朋友和我打着招呼。
他说：“这件案子一定要哄动全城了，先生。我也不是一个没有经历的新手了，可是我还没有见过这样离破的事。”
葛莱森问道：“没有什么线索？”
雷斯垂德随声附和地说：“一点也没有。”
福尔摩斯走到尸体跟前，跪下来全神贯注地检查着。
“你们肯定没有伤痕么？"他一面问，一面指着四周的血迹。
两个侦探异口同声回答说：“确实没有。”
“那么，这些血迹一定是另一个人的喽，也许是凶手的。如果这是一件凶杀案的话，这就使我想起了一八三四年攸垂克特地方的范•坚森死时的情况。葛莱森，你还记得那个案件吗？”
“不记得了，先生。”
“你真应该把这个旧案重读一下。世界上本来就没有什么新鲜事，都是前人作过的。”
他说话的时候，灵敏的手指这里摸摸，那里按按，一会儿又解开死人的衣扣检查一番；他的眼里又现出前面我谈到的那种茫然的神情。他检查得非常迅速，而且是出我意料地细致和认真。最后，他嗅了嗅死者的嘴唇，又瞧了一眼死者起皮靴子的靴底。
他问道：“尸体一直没有动过么？”
“除了进行我们必要的检查以外，再没有动过。”
“现在可以把他送去埋葬了，"他说，“没有什么再需要检查的了。”
葛莱森已经准备了一副担架和四个抬担架的人。他一招呼，他们就走进来把死者抬了出去。当他们抬起死尸时，有一只戒指滚落在地板上了。雷斯垂德连忙把它拾了起来，莫名其妙地瞧着。
他叫道："一定有个女人来过。这是一只女人的结婚指环。”
他一边说着，一边把托着戒指的手伸过来给大家看。我们围上去看了。这只朴素的金戒指无疑地是新娘戴用的。
葛莱森说：“这样一来，更加使案件复杂化了，天晓得，这个案子本来就够复杂的了。”
福尔摩斯说：“你怎么知道这只指环就不能使这个案子更清楚一些呢？这样呆呆地瞧着它是没有用处的。你在衣袋里检查出什么来了？”
“都在这儿，"葛莱森指着楼梯最后一级上的一小堆东西说，“一只金表—号，伦敦巴罗德公司制。一根又重又结实的爱尔伯特金链。一枚金戒指，上面刻着共济会的会徽。一枚金别针，上边有个虎头狗的脑袋，狗眼是两颗红宝石。俄国起的名片夹，里面有印着克利夫兰，伊瑙克••锥伯的名片，Ｊ字首和衬衣上的ＥＪＤ．．．三个缩写字母相符。没有钱包，只有些零钱，一共七英镑十三先令。一本袖珍版的卜迦丘①
“你们怎样询问的？"的小说《十日谈》，扉页上写着约瑟夫•斯坦节逊的名字。此外还有两封信——一封是寄给锥伯的，一封是给约瑟夫•斯坦节逊的。”
“是寄到什么地方的？”
“河滨路美国交易所留交本人自取。两封信都是从盖恩轮船公司寄来的，内容是通知他们轮船从利物浦开行的日期。可见这个倒霉的家伙是正要回纽约去的。”
“你们可曾调查过斯坦节逊这个人吗？”
“先生，我当时立刻就调查了。"葛莱森说，“我已经把广告稿送到各家报馆去刊登，另外又派人到美国交易所去打听，现在还没有回来呢。”
“你们跟克利夫兰方面联系了吗？”
“今天早晨我们就拍出电报去了。”
“我们只是把这件事的情况详细说明一下，并且告诉他们说，希望他们告诉我们对我们有帮助的任何情报。”
“你没有提到你认为是关键性问题的细节吗？”
“我问到了斯坦节逊这个人。”
“没有问到别的？难道整个案子里就没有一个关键性的问题？你不能再拍个电报吗？”
葛莱森生气地说：“我在电报上把我要说的都说了。”
福尔摩斯暗自笑了一笑，正要说些什么，这时雷斯垂德又来了，洋洋得意地搓着双手。我们和葛莱森在屋里谈话的时候，他是在前屋里。
①卜迦丘Ｂｏｃｃａｃｉｏ（—）：意大利著名小说家。——译者注
“葛莱森先生，"他说，“我刚才发现了一件顶顶重要的事情。要不是我仔细地检查了墙壁，就会把它漏过了。"这个小个子说话时，眼睛闪闪有光，显然是因为他胜过了他同僚一着而在自鸣得意。
“到这里来，"他一边说着，一边很快地回到前屋里。由于尸体已经抬走，屋中空气似乎清新了许多。“好，请站在那里！”
他在靴子上划燃了一根火柴，举起来照着墙壁。
“瞧瞧那个！"他得意地说。
我前面说过，墙上的花纸已经有许多地方剥落了下来。就在这个墙角上，在有一大片花纸剥落了的地方，露出一块粗糙的黄色粉墙。在这处没有花纸的墙上，有一个用鲜血潦草写成的字：
拉契（RACHE）
“你对这个字的看法怎么样？"这个侦探象马戏班的老板夸耀自己的把戏一样地大声说道，“这个字所以被人忽略，因为它是在屋中最黑暗的角落里，谁也没有想起到这里来看看。这是凶手蘸着他或者是她自己的血写的。瞧，还有血顺墙往下流的痕迹呢！从这点就可以看出：无论如何这决不是自杀。为什么要选择这个角落写呢？我可以告诉你，你看壁炉上的那段蜡烛。当时它是点着的，如果是点着的，那么这个墙角就是最亮而不是最黑的地方了。”
葛莱森轻蔑地说：“可是，你就是发现了这个字迹，又有什么意义呢？”
“什么意义吗？这说明写字的人是要写一个女人的名字'瑞契儿'（Ｒａｃｈｅｌ），但是有什么事打搅了他，因此他或者是她就没有来得及写完。你记住我的话，等到全案弄清楚以后，你一定能够发现一个名叫'瑞契儿'的女人和这个案子有关系。你现在尽可以笑话我，福尔摩斯先生；你也许是非常聪明能干的，但归根结底，生姜还是老的辣。”
我的同伴听了他的意见后，不禁纵声大笑起来，这样就激怒了这个小个子。福尔摩斯说：“实在对不起！你的确是我们三个人中第一个发现这个字迹的，自然应当归功于你。而且正如你所说的一样，由此可以充分看出，这字是昨夜惨案中另一个人写的。我还没来得及检查这间屋子。你如允许，我现在就要进行检查。”
他说着，很快地就从口袋里拿出一个卷尺和一个很大的圆形放大镜。他拿着这两样工具，在屋里默默地走来走去，有时站住，有时跪下，有一次竟趴在地上了。他全神贯注地工作着，似乎把我们全都忘掉了；他一直在自言自语地低声咕遖e着，一会儿惊呼，一会儿叹息，有时吹起口哨，有时又象充满希望、受到鼓舞似地小声叫了起来。我在一旁观察他的时候，不禁想起了训练有素的纯种猎犬，在丛林中跑来跑去，狺狺吠叫，一直到它嗅出猎物的踪迹才肯甘休的样子。他一直检查了二十分钟，小心翼翼地测量了一些痕迹之间的距离；这些痕迹，我是一点也看不出来的。偶尔他也令人不可思议地用卷尺测量墙壁。后来他非常小心地从地板上什么地方捏起一小撮灰色尘土，并且把它放在一个信封里。接着，他用放大镜检查了墙壁上的血字，非常仔细地观察了每个字母。最后，他似乎很满意了，于是就把卷尺和放大镜装进衣袋中去。
他微笑着说：“有人说'天才'就是无止境地吃苦耐劳的本领。这个定义下得很不恰当，但是在侦探工作上倒还适用。”
葛莱森和雷斯垂德十分好破地、带着几分轻蔑地一直看着这位私家同行的动作。他们分明还没有明白我现在已经渐渐理会了的——福尔摩斯的每个最细微的动作都具有它实际的而又明确的目的。
他们两人品声问道：“先生，你的看法怎么样？”
我的同伴说：“如果我竟帮起你们来，我就未免要夺取两位在这一案件上所建树的功劳了。你们现在进行得很顺利，任何人都不便从中插手。"他的话中满含讥讽意味。他接着又说：
“如果你们能把侦查的进行情况随时见告，我也愿尽力协助。现在我还要和发现这个尸体的警察谈一谈。你们可以把他的姓名、住址告诉我吗？”
雷斯垂德看了看他的记事本说：“他叫约翰•栾斯，现在下班了。你可以到肯宁顿花园门路，奥德利大院号去找他。”
福尔摩斯把地址记了下来。
他说：“医生，走吧，咱们去找他去。我告诉你们一桩对于这个案件有帮助的事情。"他回过头来向这两个侦探继续说道，“这是一件谋杀案。凶手是个男人，他高六英尺多，正当中年。照他的身材来说，脚小了一点，穿着一双粗平方头靴子，抽的是印度雪茄烟。他是和被害者一同乘坐一辆四轮马车来的。这个马车用一骑马拉着，那骑马有三只蹄铁是旧的，右前蹄的蹄铁是新的。这个凶手很可能是脸色赤红，右手指甲很长。这仅仅是几点迹象，但是这些对于你们两位也许有点帮助。”
雷斯垂德和葛莱森彼此面面相觑，露出一种表示怀疑的微笑。
雷斯垂德问道，“如果这个人是被杀死的，那么又是怎样谋杀的呢？”
“毒死的。"福尔摩斯简单地说，然后就大踏步地向外走了，“还有一点，雷斯垂德，"他走到门口时又回过头来说，“在德文中，‘拉契'这个字是复仇的意思；所以别再浪费时间去寻找那位'瑞契儿小姐'了。”
讲完这几句临别赠言以后，福尔摩斯转身就走了，剩下这两位敌手目瞪口呆地站在那里。
Chapter 4 What John Rance Had To Tell
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 address given us by Lestrade.
"There is nothing like first hand evidence," he remarked; "as a matter of fact, my mind is entirely made up upon the case, but still we may as well learn all that is to be learned."
"You amaze me, Holmes," said I. "Surely you are not as sure as you pretend to be of all those particulars which you gave."
"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."
"That seems simple enough," said I; "but how about the other man's height?"
"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 from the ground. It was child's play."
"And his age?" I asked.
"Well, if a man can stride four and a-half 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. Patent-leather boots had gone round, and Square-toes 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 in that article. Is there anything else that puzzles you?"
"The finger nails and the Trichinopoly," I suggested.
"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 Lestrade type."
"And the florid face?" I asked.
"Ah, that was a more daring shot, though I have no doubt that I was right. You must not ask me that at the present state of the affair."
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."
My companion smiled approvingly.
"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 that I am a very ordinary individual after all."
"I shall never do that," I answered; "you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world."
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 Square-toes came in the same cab, and they walked down the pathway together as friendly as possible -- arm-in-arm, in all probability. When they got inside they walked up and down the room -- or rather, Patent-leathers stood still while Square-toes 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 up, for I want to go to Halle's concert to hear Norman Neruda this afternoon."
This conversation had occurred while our cab had been threading its way through a long succession of dingy streets and dreary by-ways. 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 dead-coloured brick. "You'll find me here when you come back."
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 into a little front parlour to await his coming.
He appeared presently, looking a little irritable at being disturbed in his slumbers. "I made my report at the office," he said.
Holmes took a half-sovereign from his pocket and played with it pensively. "We thought that we should like to hear it all from your own lips," he said.
"I shall be most happy to tell you anything I can," the constable answered with his eyes upon the little golden disk.
"Just let us hear it all in your own way as it occurred."
Rance sat down on the horsehair sofa, and knitted his brows as though determined not to omit anything in his narrative.
"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 a-talkin'. 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 suspected as something was wrong. When I got to the door ----"
"You stopped, and then walked back to the garden gate," my companion interrupted. "What did you do that for?"
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."
"There was no one in the street?"
"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 a-burnin'. There was a candle flickerin' on the mantelpiece -- a red wax one -- and by its light I saw ----"
"Yes, I know all that you saw. You walked round the room several times, and you knelt down by the body, and then you walked through and tried the kitchen door, and then ----"
John Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face and suspicion in his eyes. "Where was you hid to see all that?" he cried. "It seems to me that you knows a deal more than you should."
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, though. What did you do next?"
Rance resumed his seat, without however losing his mystified expression. "I went back to the gate and sounded my whistle. That brought Murcher and two more to the spot."
"Was the street empty then?"
"Well, it was, as far as anybody that could be of any good goes."
"What do you mean?"
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, a-leanin' up agin the railings, and a-singin' at the pitch o' his lungs about Columbine's New-fangled Banner, or some such stuff. He couldn't stand, far less help."
"What sort of a man was he?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated at this digression. "He was an uncommon drunk sort o' man," he said. "He'd ha' found hisself in the station if we hadn't been so took up."
"His face -- his dress -- didn't you notice them?" Holmes broke in impatiently.
"I should think I did notice them, seeing that I had to prop him up -- me and Murcher between us. He was a long chap, with a red face, the lower part muffled round ----"
"That will do," cried Holmes. "What became of him?"
"We'd enough to do without lookin' after him," the policeman said, in an aggrieved voice. "I'll wager he found his way home all right."
"How was he dressed?"
"A brown overcoat."
"Had he a whip in his hand?"
"A whip -- no."
"He must have left it behind," muttered my companion. "You didn't happen to see or hear a cab after that?"
"No."
"There's a half-sovereign 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 is so. Come along, Doctor."
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 such an incomparable bit of good luck, and not taking advantage of it."
"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 criminals."
"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 thing of Chopin's she plays so magnificently: Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay."
Leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound carolled away like a lark while I meditated upon the many-sidedness of the human mind.
 
我们离开劳瑞斯顿花园街号的时候，已是午后一点钟了。福尔摩斯同我到附近的电报局去拍了一封长电报。然后，他叫了一部马车，吩咐车夫把我们送到雷斯垂德告诉我们的那个地点。
福尔摩斯说：“什么也比不上直接取得的证据来得重要，其实，这个案子我早已胸有成竹了，可是咱们还是应当把要查明的情况弄个清楚。”
我说：“福尔摩斯，你真叫我莫名片妙。刚才你所说的那些细节，你自己也不见得象你假装的那样有把握吧。”
“我的话绝对没错。"他回答说，“一到那里，我首先便看到在马路石沿旁有两道马车车轮的痕迹。由于昨晚下雨以前，一个星期都是晴天，所以留下这个深深轮迹的马车一定是在夜间到那里的。除此以外，还有马蹄的印子。其中有一个蹄印比其它三个都要清楚得多，这就说明那只蹄铁是新换的。这辆车子既然是在下雨以后到那里的，同时根据葛莱森所说，整个早晨又没有车辆来过，由此可见，这辆马车一定是昨天夜间在那里停留过；因此，也就正是这辆马车把那两个人送到空房那里去的。”
“这看来好象很简单，"我说，“但是其中一人的身高你又是怎样知道的呢？”
“唔，一个人的身高，十之八九可以从他的步伐的长度上知道。计算方法虽然很简单，但是现在我一步步地教给你也没有什么用处。我是在屋外的粘土地上和屋内的尘土上量出那个人步伐的距离的。接着我又发现了一个验算我的计算结果是否正确的办法。大凡人在墙壁上写字的时候，很自然会写在和视线相片行的地方。现在壁上的字迹离地刚好六英尺。简直就象儿戏一样的简单。”
“至于他的年龄呢？"我又问道。
“好的，假若一个人能够毫不费力地一步跨过四英尺半，他决不会是一个老头儿。小花园里的甬道上就有那样宽的一个水洼，他分明是一步迈过去的，而起皮靴子却是绕着走的，方头靴子则是从上面迈过去的。这丝毫没有什么神秘的地方。我只不过是把我那篇文章中所提出的一些观察事物和推理的方法应用到日常生活上去罢了。你还有什么不解的地方吗？”
“手指甲和印度雪茄烟呢？"我又提醒他说。
“墙上的字是一个人用食指蘸着血写的。我用放大镜看出写字时有些墙粉被刮了下来。如果这个人指甲修剪过，决不会是这样的。我还从地板上收集到一些散落的烟灰，它的颜色很深而且是呈起状的，只有印度雪茄的烟灰才是这样。我曾经专门研究过雪茄烟灰。事实上，我还写过这方面的专题论文呢。我可以夸口，无论什么名牌的雪茄或纸烟的烟灰，只要我看上一眼，就能识别出来。正是在这些细微末节的地方，一个干练的侦探才与葛莱森、雷斯垂德之流有所不同。”
“还有那个红脸的问题呢？"我又问道。
“啊，那就是一个更为大胆的推测了，然而我确信我是正确的。在这个案件的目前情况下，你暂且不要问我这个问题吧。”
我用手摸了摸前额说：“我真有点晕头转向了，愈想愈觉得神秘莫测。比如说，如果真是两个人的话，那么这两个人究竟怎样进入空屋去的？送他们去的车夫又怎么样了？一个人怎能迫使另一个人服毒的？血又是从哪里来的？这案子既然不是图财害命，凶手的目的又是什么？女人的戒指又是从哪儿来的？最要紧的是，凶手在逃走之前为什么要在墙上写下德文字'复仇'呢？老实说，我实在想不出怎样把这些问题一一地联系起来。”
我的同伴赞许地微笑着。
他说：“你把案中疑难之点总结得很简洁、很扼要，总结得很好。虽然在主要情节上我已有了眉目，但是还有许多地方仍然不够清楚。至于雷斯垂德所发现的那个血字，只不过是一种圈套，暗示这是什么社会党或者秘密团体干的，企图把警察引入起途罢了。那字并不是个德国人写的。你如果注意一下，就可以看出字母Ａ多少是仿照德文样子写的。但是真正的德国人写的却常常是拉丁字体。因此我们可以十拿九稳地说，这字母绝不是德国人写的，而是出于一个不高明的摹仿者之手，并且他做的有点画蛇添足了。这不过是想要把侦查工作引入歧途的一个诡计而已。医生，关于这个案子我不预备再给你多讲些什么了。你知道魔术家一旦把自己的戏法说穿，他就得不到别人的赞赏了；如果把我的工作方法给你讲得太多的话，那么，你就会得出这样的结论：福尔摩斯这个人不过是一个十分平常的人物罢了。”
我回答说：“我决不会如此。侦探术迟早要发展成为一门精确的科学的，可是你已经差不多把它创立起来了。”
我的同伴听了这话，而且看到我说话时的诚恳态度，他高兴得涨红了脸。我早就看出，当他听到别人对他在侦探术上的成就加以赞扬时，他就会象任何一个姑娘听到别人称赞她的美貌时一样的敏感起来。
他说：“我再告诉你一件事。穿起皮靴的和穿方头靴的两个人是同乘一辆车子来的，而且好象非常友好似的，大概还是膀子挽着膀子一起从花园中小路上走过。他们进了屋子以后，还在屋子里走来走去；更确切地说，穿起皮靴子的是站立不动，而穿方头靴子的人却在屋中不停地走动。我从地板上的尘土上就能看出这些情况来。同时我也能看出，他愈走愈激动，因为他的步子愈走愈大，这就说明这一点。他一边走一边说着，终于狂怒起来，于是惨剧就发生了。现在我把我所知道的一切情况都告诉你了，剩下的只是一些猜测和臆断了。好在咱们已有了着手工作的好基础。咱们必须抓紧时间，因为我今天下午还要去听阿勒音乐会，听听诺尔曼•聂鲁达的音乐呢。”
在我们谈话的时候，车子不断地穿过昏暗的大街和气凉的小巷。到了一条最肮脏、最荒凉的巷口，车夫突然把车停了下来。“那边就是奥德利大院，"他指着一漆黑色砖墙之间的狭窄胡同说，“你们回来时到这里找我。”
奥德利大院并不是一个雅观的所在。我们走过一条狭窄的小胡同，便来到一个方形大院，院内地面是用石板铺成的，四面有一些肮脏简陋的住房。我们穿过一群一群衣着肮脏的孩子，钻过一行行晒得褪了色的衣服，最后来到号。号的门上钉着一个小铜牌，上面刻着"栾斯"字样。我们上前一问，才知道这位警察正在睡觉。我们便走进了前边一间小客厅里等他出来。
这位警察很快就出来了。由于被我们打搅了好梦，他有些不高兴。他说：“我已经在局里报告过了。”
福尔摩斯从衣袋里掏出一个半镑金币，若有所思地在手中玩弄着。他说：“我们想要请你从头到尾再亲口说一遍。”
这位警察两眼望着那个小金币回答说：“我很愿意把我所知道的一切奉告。”
“那么让我听一听事情发生的经过吧。你愿意怎样讲都可以。”
栾斯在马毛呢的沙发上坐了下来，他皱起眉头，好象下定决心不使他的叙述中有任何遗漏。
他说：“我把这事从头说起。我当班的时间是从晚上十点起到第二天早上六点。夜间十一点钟时，曾有人在白哈特街打架，除此以外，我巡逻的地区都很平静。夜里一点钟的时候，开始下起雨来。这时我遇见了亥瑞•摩契，他是在荷兰树林区一带巡逻的。我们两个人就站在亨瑞埃塔街转角的地方聊天。不久，大约在两点或两点稍过一点的时候，我想该转一遭了，看看布瑞克斯顿路是不是平静无事。这条路又泥泞又偏僻。一路上连个人影都没有，只有一两辆马车从我身旁驶过。我慢慢溜跶着，一边寻思要有热酒喝它一盅多美。这时，忽见那座房子的窗口闪闪地射出灯光。我知道劳瑞斯顿花园街的两所房子都是空着的，其中一所的最后一个房客得了伤寒病死了，可是房东还是不愿修理阴沟。所以我一看到那个窗口有灯光，就吓了一大跳，疑心出了什么差错。等我走到屋门口——”
“你就站住了，转身又走回小花园的门口，"我的同伴突然插嘴说，“你为什么要那样做呢？”
栾斯吓得跳了起来，满脸惊讶，瞪着一双大眼睛瞧着福尔摩斯。
“天哪，确是那样，先生，"他说，“可是您怎么会知道的，天晓得！你瞧，当我走到门口的时候，我觉得太孤单，太冷清了，我想最好还是找个人和我一起进去。我倒不怕人世上的什么东西，我当时忽然想起，也许这就是那个得了伤寒病死去的人，正在检查那个要了他的性命的阴沟吧。这样一想，吓得我转身就走，重新回到大门口去，看看是不是望得见摩契的提灯；可是连他的影子也瞧不见，也没见到别的人。”
“街上一个人也没有吗？”
“一个人影也没有，先生，连条狗都没有。我只好鼓起勇气，又走了回去，把门推开。里面静悄悄的，于是我就走进了那间有灯光的屋子里去。只见壁炉台上点着一支蜡烛，还是一支红蜡烛，烛光摇摆不定，烛光下只见——”
“好了，你所看见的情况我都知道了。你在屋中走了几圈，并且在死尸旁边跪了下来，以后又走过去推推厨房的门，后来——”
约翰•栾斯听到这里，突然跳了起来，满脸惊惧，眼中露出怀疑的神色。他大声说道：“当时你躲在什么地方，看得这样一清二楚？我看，这些事都是你不应该知道的。”
福尔摩斯笑了起来，拿出他的名片，隔着桌子丢给这位警察看。“可别把我当作凶手逮捕起来，"他说，“我也是一条猎犬而不是狼；这一点葛莱森和雷斯垂德先生都会证明的。那么，请接着讲下去。以后你又作了些什么呢？”
栾斯重新坐了下来，但是脸上狐疑的神气还没消除。"我走到大门口，吹起警笛。摩契和另外两个警察都应声而来。”
“当时街上什么都没有吗？”
“是呀，凡是正经点的人早都回家了。”
“这是什么意思？”
警察笑了一笑，他说：“我这辈子见过的醉汉可多了，可是从来没有见过象那个家伙那样烂醉如泥的。我出来的时候，他正站在门口，靠着栏杆，放开嗓门，大声唱着考棱班唱的那①段小调或是这一类的歌子。他简直连脚都站不住了，真没办法。”
①考棱班 Columbine 为一出喜剧中的女角。——译者注
“他是一个什么样的人？"福尔摩斯问道。
福尔摩斯这样一打岔，约翰•栾斯好象有些不高兴。他说：“他倒是一个少见的醉鬼。如果我们不那么忙的话，他免不了要被送到警察局去呢。”
“他的脸，他的衣服，你注意到没有？"福尔摩斯忍不住又插嘴问道。
“我想当时我确实注意到了，因为我和摩契还搀扶过他。他是一个高个子，红脸，下边一圈长着——”
“这就够了。"福尔摩斯大声说道，“后来他又怎么样了？”
“我们当时够忙的啦，哪有工夫去照管他。"他说。
接着这位警察又颇为不满地说：“我敢打赌，他满认得回家的路呢。”
“他穿的什么衣服？”
“一件棕色外衣。”
“手里有没有拿着马鞭子？”
“马鞭子？没有。”
“他一定是把它丢下了，"我的伙伴嘟囔着说，“后来你看见或者听见有辆马车过去吗？”
“没有。”
“这个半镑金币给你，"我的同伴说着就站起身来，戴上帽子，“栾斯，我恐怕你在警察大队里永远不会高升了。你的那个脑袋不该光是个装饰，也该有点用处才对。昨夜你本来可以捞个警长干干的。昨夜在你手里的那个人，就是这件神秘案子的线索，现在我们正在找他。这会儿再争论也没有什么用处了。我告诉你，事实就是这么回事。走吧，医生。”
说着我们就一起出来寻找我们的马车，剩下那个警察还在半信半疑，但是显然觉得不安。
我们坐着车子回家的时候，福尔摩斯狠狠地说：“这个大傻瓜！想想看，碰上这样一个千载难逢的好机会，他却把它白白地放过了。”
“我简直还是坠在五里雾中哩。诚然，这个警察所形容的那个人和你所想象的那人的情况正好一样，但是他干吗要去而复返呢？这不象罪犯应有的行径吧。”
“戒指，先生，戒指，他回来就是为了这个东西。咱们要是没有别的法子捉住他，就可以拿这个戒指当做钓饵，让他上钩。我一定会捉住他的，医生——我敢和你下二比一的赌注打个赌，我可以逮住他。这一切我倒要感激你啦。要不是你，我还不会去呢，那么我就要失掉这个从来没遇到过的最好的研究机会了。咱们叫它作'血字的研究'好吧？咱们何妨使用一些美丽的辞藻呢。在平淡无破的生活纠葛里，谋杀案就像一条红线一样，贯穿在中间。咱们的责任就是要去揭露它，把它从生活中清理出来，彻底地加以暴露。咱们先去吃饭，然后再去听听诺尔曼•聂鲁达的音乐演奏。她的指法和弓法简直妙极了。她演奏萧邦的那段什么小曲子真是妙极了：特拉—拉—拉—利拉—利拉—莱。”
这位非官方侦探家靠在马车上象只云雀似地唱个不停。我在默默沉思着；人类的头脑真是无所不能啊。
Chapter 5 Our Advertisement Brings A Visitor
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 baboon-like 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 no condonement in the eyes of the law.
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 self-confident 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. Dinner was on the table before he appeared.
"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 our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood."
"That's rather a broad idea," I remarked.
"One's ideas must be as broad as Nature if they are to interpret Nature," he answered. "What's the matter? You're not looking quite yourself. This Brixton Road affair has upset you."
"To tell the truth, it has," I said. "I ought to be more case-hardened after my Afghan experiences. I saw my own comrades hacked to pieces at Maiwand without losing my nerve."
"I can understand. There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination; where there is no imagination there is no horror. Have you seen the evening paper?"
"No."
"It gives a fairly good account of the affair. It does not mention the fact that when the man was raised up, a woman's wedding ring fell upon the floor. It is just as well it does not."
"Why?"
"Look at this advertisement," he answered. "I had one sent to every paper this morning immediately after the affair."
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 and nine this evening."
"Excuse my using your name," he said. "If I used my own some of these dunderheads would recognize it, and want to meddle in the affair."
"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."
"And who do you expect will answer this advertisement."
"Why, the man in the brown coat -- our florid friend with the square toes. If he does not come himself he will send an accomplice."
"Would he not consider it as too dangerous?"
"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 shall see him within an hour?"
"And then?" I asked.
"Oh, you can leave me to deal with him then. Have you any arms?"
"I have my old service revolver and a few cartridges."
"You had better clean it and load it. He will be a desperate man, and though I shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready for anything."
I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.
"The plot thickens," he said, as I entered; "I have just had an answer to my American telegram. My view of the case is the correct one."
"And that is?" I asked eagerly.
"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 hard."
"It is eight o'clock now," I said, glancing at my watch.
"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 little brown-backed volume was struck off."
"Who is the printer?"
"Philippe de Croy, whoever he may have been. On the fly-leaf, in very faded ink, is written `Ex libris Guliolmi Whyte.' I wonder who William Whyte was. Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I suppose. His writing has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man, I think."
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 it.
"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, and there was a feeble tap at the door.
"Come in," I cried.
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 my countenance.
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 last night along with ----"
"Is that her ring?" I asked.
"The Lord be thanked!" cried the old woman; "Sally will be a glad woman this night. That's the ring."
"And what may your address be?" I inquired, taking up a pencil.
"13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A weary way from here."
"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 red-rimmed eyes. "The gentleman asked me for _my_ address," she said. "Sally lives in lodgings at 3, Mayfield Place, Peckham."
"And your name is ----?"
"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 and what with liquor shops ----"
"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 of his adventure.
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 latch-key. 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 laugh.
"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 know that I will be even with them in the long run."
"What is it then?" I asked.
"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 foot-sore. Presently she came to a halt, and hailed a four-wheeler 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 Sawyer or Dennis had ever been heard of there."
"You don't mean to say," I cried, in amazement, "that that tottering, feeble old woman was able to get out of the cab while it was in motion, without either you or the driver seeing her?"
"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 get-up 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 him. Now, Doctor, you are looking done-up. Take my advice and turn in."
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.
 
上午忙碌了一阵，我的身体实在有点吃不消，因此，下午就感到起倦已极。在福尔摩斯出去听音乐会以后，我就躺在沙发上，尽量想睡它两小时，可是怎么也办不到。由于所发生的种种情况使我的心情过分激动，脑子里充满了许许多多稀破古怪的想法和猜测。只要我一合眼，那个被害者的歪扭得象猴子似的面貌就出现在我的眼前。它给我的印象是万分丑恶，对于把这样一个长相的人从世上除掉的那个凶手，我除了对他感激之外，很难有其他的感觉。如果相貌真的可以说明一个人的罪恶的话，那一定就是象这位克利夫兰城的伊瑙克•锥伯的尊容了。虽然如此，我认为问题还是应当公平处理，在法律上，被害人的罪行并不能抵消凶手的罪。
我的伙伴推测说，这个人是中毒而死的，我越想越觉得这个推测很不平常。我记得福尔摩斯嗅过死者的嘴唇，我确信他一定已经侦查出某种事物，才会使他有这样的想法。况且，尸体上既没有伤痕，又没有勒死的迹象，如果说不是中毒而死，那么致死的原因又是什么呢？但是，从另一方面来看，地板上大摊的血迹又是谁的？屋里既没有发现扭打的痕迹，也没有找到死者用来击伤对方的凶器。只要这一类的问题得不到解答，我觉得，不管是福尔摩斯还是我，要想安睡可不是件容易的事。他的那种镇静而又充满自信的神态，使我深信他对于全部情节，早有见解；虽然他的内容究竟如何，我一时还不能猜测出来。
福尔摩斯回来得非常晚。我相信，他绝不可能听音乐会一直到这么晚。他回来的时候，晚饭早已经摆在桌上了。
“今天的音乐太好了。"福尔摩斯说着就坐了下来，“你记得达尔文对于音乐的见解吗？他认为，远在人类有了说话的能力以前，人类就有了创造音乐和欣赏音乐的能力了。也许这就是咱们所以不可思议地易于受到音乐感染的原故。在咱们心灵的深处，对于世界混沌初期的那些朦胧岁月，还遗留着一些模糊不清的记忆。”
我说：“这种见解似乎过于广泛。”
福尔摩斯说：“一个人如果要想说明大自然，那么，他的想象领域就必须象大自然一样的广阔。怎么回事？你今天和平常不大一样呀。布瑞克斯顿路的案子把你弄得心神不宁了吧。”
我说：“说实在的，这个案子确实使我心神不宁。通过阿富汗那番经历之后，我原应该锻炼得坚强些的。在迈旺德战役中，我也曾亲眼看到自己的伙伴们血肉横飞的情景，但是我并没有感到害怕。”
“这一点我能够理解。这件案子有一些神秘莫测的地方，因而才引起了想象。如果没有想象，恐惧也就不存在了。你看过晚报了吗？”
“没有。”
“晚报把这个案子叙述得相当详尽。但是却没有提到抬尸时，有一个女人的结婚戒指掉在地板上。没有提到这一点倒是更好。”
“为什么？”
“你看看这个广告，"福尔摩斯说，“今天上午，这个案子发生后，我立刻就在各家报纸上登了一则广告。”
他把报纸递给我，我看了一眼他所指的地方。这是"失物招领栏"的头一则广告。广告内容是：“今晨在布瑞克斯顿路、白鹿酒馆和荷兰树林之间拾得结婚金戒指一枚。失者请于今晚八时至九时向贝克街号乙华生医生处洽领。”
“请你不要见怪，"福尔摩斯说，“广告上用了你的名字。如果用我自己的名字，这些笨蛋侦探中有些人也许就会识破，他们就要从中插手了。”
“这倒没有什么，"我回答说，“不过，假如有人前来领取的话，我可没有戒指呀。”
“哦，有的，"他说着就交给了我一只戒指，“这一个满能对付过去。几乎和原来的一模一样。”
“那么你预料谁会来领取这项失物呢？”
“唔，就是那个穿棕色外衣的男人，咱们那位穿方头靴子的红脸朋友。如果他自己不来，他也会打发一个同党来的。”
“难道他不会觉得这样做太危险吗？”
“决不会。如果我对这个案子的看法不错的话——我有种种理由可以自信我没有看错。这个人宁愿冒任何危险，也不愿失去这个戒指。我认为，戒指是在他俯身察看锥伯尸体的时候掉下来的，可是当时他没有察觉。离开这座房子以后，他才发觉他把戒指丢了，于是又急忙回去。但是，这时他发现，由于他自己粗心大意，没有把蜡烛熄掉，警察已经到了屋里。在这种时候，他在这座房了的门口出现，很可能受到嫌疑，因此，他不得不装作酩酊大醉的样子。你无妨设身处地想一想：他把这件事仔细地思索一遍以后，他一定会想到，也可能是他在离开那所房子以后，把戒指掉在路上了。那么怎么办呢？他自然要急忙地在晚报上寻找一番，希望在招领栏中能够有所发现。他看到这个广告后一定会非常高兴，简直要喜出望外哩，怎么还会害怕这是一个圈套呢？在他看来，寻找戒指为什么就一定要和暗杀这件事有关系呢，这是没有道理的。他会来的，他一定要来的。一小时之内你就能够见到他了。”
“他来了以后又怎么办呢？"我问道。
“啊，到时候你让我来对付他。你有什么武器吗？”
“我有一支旧的军用左轮手枪，还有一些子弹。”
“你最好把它擦干净，装上子弹。这家伙准是一个亡命徒。虽然我可以出岂不意地捉住他，但是还是准备一下，以防万一的好。”
我回到卧室，照他的话去做了准备。当我拿着手枪出来的时候，只见餐桌已经收拾干净，福尔摩斯正在摆弄着他心爱的玩意儿——信手拨弄着他的提琴。
我进来时，福尔摩斯说：“案情越来越有眉目了。我发往美国的电报，刚刚得到了回电，证明我对这个案子的看法是正确的。”
我急忙问道：“是那样吗？”
“我的提琴换上新弦就更好了，"福尔摩斯说，“你把手枪放在衣袋里。那个家伙进来的时候，你要用平常的语起跟他谈话，别的我来应付。不要大惊小怪，以免打草惊蛇。”
我看了一下我的表说：“现在八点了。”
“是啊，或许几分钟之内他就要到了。把门稍开一些。行了。把钥匙插在门里边。谢谢你！这是我昨天在书摊子上偶然买到的一本珍破的古书。书名叫'论各民族的法律'，是用拉丁文写的，一二年在比利时列日出版的。当这本棕色起面的小书出版的时候，查理的脑袋还牢靠地长在他的脖子上①呢。”
“印刷人是谁？”
“是菲利起•德克罗伊，不知道是个什么样的人物。书前扉页上写着'古列米•怀特藏书'，墨水早已褪了色。也不知道威廉•怀特是谁，大概是一位十七世纪实证主义的法律家，连他的书法都带着一种法律家的风格呢。我想，那个人来了。”
他说到这里，忽听门上铃声大震。福尔摩斯轻轻地站了起来，把他的椅子向房门口移动了一下。我们听到女仆走过门廊，听到她打开门闩的声音。
“华生医生住在这儿吗？"一个语调粗鲁但很清晰的人问道。我们没有听到仆人的回答，只听见大门又关上了，有人上楼来了。脚步声慢吞吞地，象是拖着步子在走。我的朋友侧耳听着，脸上显出惊破的样子。脚步声缓慢地沿着过道走了过来，接着就听见轻微的叩门声。
“请进。"我高声说道。
应声进来的并不是我们预料中的那个凶神恶煞，而是一位皱纹满面的老太平，她蹒跚地走进房来。她进来以后，被灯光骤然一照，好象照花了眼。她行过礼后，站在那儿，老眼昏花地瞧着我们，她那痉挛颤抖的手指不停地在衣袋里摸索着。我看了我的伙伴一眼，只见他显得怏怏不乐，我也只好装出一副泰然自若的神气来。
①指英王查理一世。他于年月日经议会组织的法庭审判之后，以民族叛徒的罪名被处死刑。——译者注
这个老太平掏出一张晚报，用手指着我们登的那个广告说：“我是为这件事来的，先生们，"说着，她又深深施了一礼，
“广告上说，在布瑞克斯顿路拾得一个结婚金戒指。这是我女儿赛莉的，她是去年这个时候才结的婚，她的丈夫在一只英国船上当会计。如果他回来时，发现她的戒指没有了，谁会知道他要怎么样呢。我简直不敢想。他这个人品常就性子急，喝了点酒以后，就更加暴躁了。对不起，是这么回事，昨天晚上她去看马戏，是和—— ”
“这是她的戒指吗？"我问道。
老太平叫了起来：“谢天谢地！赛莉今天晚上可要开心死了。这正是她丢的那个戒指。”
我拿起一支铅笔问道：“您住在哪儿？”
“宏兹迪池区，邓肯街号。离这儿老远呢。”
福尔摩斯突然说：“布瑞克斯顿路并不在宏兹迪池区和什么马戏团之间呀。”
老太平转过脸去，一双小红眼锐利地瞧了福尔摩斯一下，她说：“那位先生刚才是问我的住址。赛莉住在培克罕区，梅菲尔德公寓号。”
“贵姓是——？”
“我姓索叶，我的女儿姓丹尼斯，他的丈夫叫汤姆•丹尼斯。他在船上真是一个又漂亮又正直的小伙子，是公司里提得起来的会计；可是一上岸，又玩女人，又喝酒——”
“这是你的戒指，索叶太太，"我遵照着我伙伴的暗示打断了她的话头说，“这个戒指显然是你女儿的。我很高兴，现在物归原主了。”
这个老太平嘟嘟囔囔地说了千恩万谢的话以后，把戒指包好，放入衣袋，然后拖拖拉拉地走下楼去。她刚出房门，福尔摩斯立刻站起，跑进他的屋中去。几秒钟以后，他走了出来，已然穿上大衣，系好围巾。福尔摩斯匆忙中说：“我要跟着她。她一定是个同党，她会把我带到凶犯那里去。别睡，等着我。"客人出去时大门刚刚砰地一声关好，福尔摩斯就下了楼。我从窗子向外看去，只见那个老太平有气无力地在马路那边走着，福尔摩斯在她的后边不远处尾随着。这时，我心里想：福尔摩斯的全部看法假如不错的话，他现在就要直捣虎穴了。他用不着告诉我等着他，因为在我没有听到他冒险的结果以前，要想睡觉是绝不可能的事。
福尔摩斯出门的时候将近九点钟。我不知道他要去多久，只好呆坐在房里抽着烟斗，翻阅一本昂利•穆尔杰的《波亥米传》。十点过后，我听见女用人回房睡觉去的脚步声。十一点①钟，房东太太的沉重脚步声从房门前走过，她也是回房去睡觉的，将近十二点钟，我才听到福尔摩斯用钥匙打开大门上弹簧锁的声音。他一进房来，我就从他的脸色看出，他并没有成功。是高兴还是懊恼，似乎一直在他的心里交战着。顷刻之间，高兴战胜了懊恼，福尔摩斯忽然纵声大笑起来。
①《波亥米传》是十九世纪法国剧作家昂利•穆尔杰的剧本，是描写当时乐天派（即波亥米派）的生活及其精神面貌的一部杰作。——译者注
“这件事说什么我也不能让苏格兰场的人知道。"福尔摩斯大声说着，一面就在椅子上坐了下来，“我把他们嘲笑得够了，这一回他们绝不会善罢甘休的。可是，他们就是知道了，讥笑我，我也不在乎，迟早我会把面子找回来的。"
我问道：“到底是怎么回事？”
“啊，我把我失败的情况跟你谈谈吧，这倒没有什么。那个家伙走不多远，就一瘸一拐地显出脚痛的样子。她突然停下脚步，叫住了一辆过路的马车。我向她凑近些，想听听她雇车的地点；其实我根本用不着这样急躁，因为她说话的声音很大，就是隔一条马路也能听得清楚。她大声说：‘到宏兹迪池区，邓肯街号。'我当时认为她说的是实话。我看见她上车以后，也跟着跳上了马车后部。这是每一个侦探必精的技术。好啦，我们就这样向前行进。马车一路未停，一直到了目的地。快到号门前的时候，我先跳下车来，漫步在马路上闲荡着。我眼见马车停了，车夫跳了下来，把车门打开等候着，可是并没有人下来。我走到车夫面前，他正在黑暗的车厢中到处摸索，嘴里不干不净，乱七八糟地骂着，骂的那话简直是我从来也没听到过的' 最好听的'词了。乘客早已踪迹全无了。我想，他要想拿到车费恐怕要俟诸他日了。我们到号去询问了一下，那里住的却是一位起行端正的裱糊匠，叫做凯斯维克，从来没有听说有叫做什么索叶或者丹尼斯的人在那里住过。”
我惊破地大声说道：“难道你是说那个身体虚弱、步履蹒跚的老太平居然能够瞒过你和车夫的眼，在车走动的时候跳下去了吗？”
福尔摩斯厉声说道：“什么老太婆，真该死！咱们两个才是老太婆呢，竟受了人家这样的气。他一定是个年轻的小伙子，而且还是一个精明强干的小伙子。不仅如此，他还一定是个了不起的演员，他扮演得真是到了无可比拟的程度。显而易见，他是知道有人跟着他的，因此就用了这一着，乘我不备，溜之大吉。这件事实说明，咱们现在要捉住的那个人，绝不是象我当初想象的那样，仅仅是单独一个人，他有许多朋友，他们甘愿为他冒险。喂，大夫，看样子你象是累坏了，听我的话请去睡吧。”
我的确感到很疲乏，所以我就听从他的话回屋去睡了。留下福尔摩斯一个人坐在微微燃烧着的火炉边。在这万籁俱寂的漫漫长夜里，我还听到他那忧郁的琴音低声回诉，我知道他仍旧在深思着他在认真着手解决的那个破异的课题。
Chapter 6 Tobias Gregson Shows What He Can Do
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 scrap-book numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case. Here is a condensation of a few of them:--
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 boarding-house 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 well-known officers will speedily throw light upon the matter.
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. Gregson of Scotland Yard.
Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him considerable amusement.
"I told you that, whatever happened, Lestrade and Gregson would be sure to score."
"That depends on how it turns out."
"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 have followers. `Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire.'"
"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 on.
"'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 the street. Have you found it, Wiggins?"
"No, sir, we hain't," said one of the youths.
"I hardly expected you would. You must keep on until you do. Here are your wages. " He handed each of them a shilling. "Now, off you go, and come back with a better report next time."
He waved his hand, and they scampered away downstairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices next moment in the street.
"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 official-looking 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."
"Is it on this Brixton case that you are employing them?" I asked.
"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 feature of his face. Bound for us, I know. Yes, he is stopping. There he is!"
There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few seconds the fair-haired detective came up the stairs, three steps at a time, and burst into our sitting-room.
"My dear fellow," he cried, wringing Holmes' unresponsive hand, "congratulate me! I have made the whole thing as clear as day."
A shade of anxiety seemed to me to cross my companion's expressive face.
"Do you mean that you are on the right track?" he asked.
"The right track! Why, sir, we have the man under lock and key."
"And his name is?"
"Arthur Charpentier, sub-lieutenant in Her Majesty's navy," cried Gregson, pompously, rubbing his fat hands and inflating his chest.
Sherlock Holmes gave a sigh of relief, and relaxed into a smile.
"Take a seat, and try one of these cigars," he said. "We are anxious to know how you managed it. Will you have some whiskey and water?"
"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 brain-workers."
"You do me too much honour," said Holmes, gravely. "Let us hear how you arrived at this most gratifying result."
The detective seated himself in the arm-chair, and puffed complacently at his cigar. Then suddenly he slapped his thigh in a paroxysm of amusement.
"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 unborn. I have no doubt that he has caught him by this time."
The idea tickled Gregson so much that he laughed until he choked.
"And how did you get your clue?"
"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?"
"Yes," said Holmes; "by John Underwood and Sons, 129, Camberwell Road."
Gregson looked quite crest-fallen.
"I had no idea that you noticed that," he said. "Have you been there?"
"No."
"Ha!" cried Gregson, in a relieved voice; "you should never neglect a chance, however small it may seem."
"To a great mind, nothing is little," remarked Holmes, sententiously.
"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 Establishment, Torquay Terrace. Thus I got at his address."
"Smart -- very smart!" murmured Sherlock Holmes.
"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 ever that these people knew something of the matter.
"`At what o'clock did Mr. Drebber leave your house for the train?' I asked.
"`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. "
"`And was that the last which you saw of him?'
"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 unnatural tone.
"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 Mr. Drebber again.'
"`God forgive you!' cried Madame Charpentier, throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. `You have murdered your brother.'
"`Arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,' the girl answered firmly.
"`You had best tell me all about it now,' I said. `Half-confidences are worse than none. Besides, you do not know how much we know of it.'
"`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 antecedents would all forbid it.'
"`Your best way is to make a clean breast of the facts,' I answered. `Depend upon it, if your son is innocent he will be none the worse.'
"`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.'
"`It is your wisest course,' said I.
"`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 maid-servants 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 leave on account of it. That was the reason of his going.'
"`Well?'
"`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. Drebber's mysterious death.'
"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 be no possibility of a mistake."
"It's quite exciting," said Sherlock Holmes, with a yawn. "What happened next?"
"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 son returned.
"`I do not know,' she answered.
"`Not know?'
"`No; he has a latch-key, and he let himself in.'
"`After you went to bed?'
"`Yes.'
"`When did you go to bed?'
"`About eleven.'
"`So your son was gone at least two hours?'
"`Yes.'
"`Possibly four or five?'
"`Yes.'
"`What was he doing during that time?'
"`I do not know,' she answered, turning white to her very lips.
"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 suspicious aspect."
"Very," said Holmes.
"He still carried the heavy stick which the mother described him as having with him when he followed Drebber. It was a stout oak cudgel."
"What is your theory, then?"
"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 something of you yet."
"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 it. 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 conclusion. Have you managed to find the Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson?"
"The Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson," said Lestrade gravely, "was murdered at Halliday's Private Hotel about six o'clock this morning."
 
第二天，各家报纸连篇累牍地刊载着所谓"布瑞克斯顿破案"的新闻。每家报纸都有一则长期报道，此外，有的还特别写了社论。其中一些消息连我还没听说过。我的剪贴簿里至今还保存着不少关于这个案子的剪报。现在把它摘录一些附在下面：《每日电讯报》报道说：在犯罪的记录里，再没有比这个悲剧更为离破的案子了。被害人用的是个德国名字，又看不出有什么其他的动机，而且墙上还写下这个狠毒的字样；这一切都说明这是一群亡命的政治犯和革命党所干的。社会党在美国的流派很多，死者无疑是因为触犯了它们的不成文的法律，因而才被追踪到此，遭了毒手。这篇文章简略地提到过去发生的德国秘密法庭案、矿泉案、意大利烧炭党案、布兰威列侯爵夫人案、达尔文理论案、马尔萨斯原理案以及瑞特克利夫公路谋杀案等案件以后，在文章结尾向政府提出忠告，主张今后对于在英外侨，应予以更加严密之监视云云。《旗帜报》评论说：这种无法无天的暴行，常常是在自由党执政下发生的。这些暴行之产生，实由于民心动乱和政府权力削弱之故。死者是一位美国绅士，在伦敦城已盘桓数周之久。生前曾在坎伯韦尔区，陶尔魁里，夏朋婕太太的公寓内住过。他是在他的私人秘书约瑟夫•斯坦节逊先生陪同下作旅行游览的。二人于本月四日星期二辞别女房东后，即去尤斯顿车站，拟搭乘快车去利物浦。当时还有人在车站月台上看见过他们，以后就踪迹不明了。后来，据报载，在离尤斯顿车站数英里远的布瑞斯克顿路的一所空屋中发现了锥伯先生的尸体。他如何到达此处以及如何被害等情况，仍属不可理解的疑团。斯坦节逊下落迄今不明。吾人欣悉，苏格兰场著名侦探雷斯垂德和葛莱森二人同时侦查此案，深信该案不久必有分晓云云。《每日新闻报》报道说：这肯定是一件政治性犯罪。由于大陆各国政府的专制以及对自由主义的憎恨，因而许多人被驱逐到我们国土上来。如果对于他们过去的作为加以宽容不予追究的话，这班人士气有可能变为良好的公民。这些流亡人士之间，有着一种严格的"法规"，一经触犯，必予处死。目前必须竭尽全力寻获他的秘书斯坦节逊，以便查清死者生活习惯中之某些特点。死者生前寄寓伦敦的住址业经获悉，这就使案情向前进展一大步。该项发现，纯系苏格兰场葛莱森先生之机智干练所致云云。
早饭时，福尔摩斯和我一同读完了这些报道；这些报道似乎使他感到非常有趣。
“我早就对你说过，不论情况如何，功劳总归是属于雷斯垂德和葛莱森这两个人的。”
“那也要看结果如何呀。”
“哦，老兄，这才没有一点关系呢。如果凶手捉到了，自然是由于他们两个人的黾勉从公；如果凶手逃跑了，他们又可以说：虽然历尽艰辛，但是……不管怎么说，好事总是他们的，坏事永远归于别人。不管他们干什么，总会有人给他们歌功颂德的。有句法国俗语说得好：‘笨蛋虽笨，但是还有比他更笨的笨蛋为他喝彩。'“
我们正说着，过道里和楼梯上突然响起了一阵杂乱的脚步声，夹杂着房东太太的抱怨声，我不禁喊道：“这是怎么一回事？”
“这是侦缉队贝克街分队。"我的伙伴煞有介事地说。说时，只见六个街头流浪顽童冲将进来，我从来没见过这样十分肮脏、衣裳褴褛的孩子。
“立正！"福尔摩斯厉声喝道。于是这六个小流氓就象六个不象样的小泥人似地一条线地站立在那里。“以后你们叫维金斯一个人上来报告，其余的必须在街上等着。找到了吗，维金斯？”
一个孩子答道：“没有，先生，我们还没有找到呢。”
“我估计你们也没有找到，一定要继续查找，不找到不算完。这是你们的工资，"福尔摩斯每人给了一个先令。"好，现在去吧，下一次报告时，我等着你们带来好消息。”
福尔摩斯挥了挥手，这群孩子就象一窝小耗子似地下楼而去。接着，由街上传来了他们尖锐的喧闹声。
福尔摩斯说：“这些小家伙一个人的工作成绩，要比一打官方侦探的还要来得大。官方人士一露面，人家就闭口不言了。可是，这些小家伙什么地方都能去，什么事都能打听到。他们很机灵，就象针尖一样，无缝不入。他们就是缺乏组织。”
我问道：“你是为了布瑞克斯顿路的这个案子雇的他们吗？”
“是的，有一点我想要弄明白，这只不过是时间问题罢了。啊！现在咱们可就要听到些新闻了！你瞧，葛莱森在街上向着咱们这里走来了。他满脸都是得意的神色，我知道他是上咱们这儿来的。你看，他站住了。就是他！”
门铃一阵猛响，一眨眼的功夫，这位美发的侦探先生就一步三级地跳上楼来，一直闯进了我们的客厅。
“亲爱的朋友，"他紧紧地握着福尔摩斯冷淡的手大声说道，“给我道喜吧！我已经把这个案子弄得象大天白日一样地清清楚楚了。”
我似乎看出，在福尔摩斯善于表情的脸上，掠过一丝焦急的暗影。
他问道：“你是说你已经搞顺手了吗？”
“对了！真是的，我的老兄，连凶手都捉到了！”
“那么他叫什么名字？”
“阿瑟•夏朋婕，是皇家海军的一个中尉，"葛莱森一面得意地搓着他的一双胖手，一面挺起胸脯傲慢地大声说。
福尔摩斯听了这话以后，才如释重负地松了一口气，不觉微笑起来。
“请坐，抽支雪茄烟罢。"他说，“我们很想知道你是怎么办的。喝点儿加水威士忌吗？”
“喝点儿就喝点儿吧，"这位侦探回答说，“这两天费了不少劲儿，可把我累坏了。你明白，体力劳动虽说不多，可是脑子紧张得厉害。个中甘苦你是知道的，福尔摩斯先生，因为咱们都是干的用脑子的活儿。”
福尔摩斯一本正经地说：“你太过奖了。让我们听听，你是怎样获得这样一个可喜可贺的成绩的。”
这位侦探在扶手椅上坐了下来，洋洋自得地一口口地吸着雪茄，忽地拍了一下大腿高兴地说道：
“真可笑，雷斯垂德这个傻瓜，他还自以为高明呢，可是他完全搞错了。他正在寻找那位秘书斯坦节逊的下落呢。这个家伙就象一个没有出世的孩子一样地和这个案子根本就没有关系。我敢断言，他现在多半已经捉到那个家伙了。”
他讲到这里得意地呵呵大笑，直笑得喘不过起来。
“那么，你是怎样得到线索的呢？”
“啊，我全部告诉你们。当然喽，华生医生，这是绝对秘密的，只有咱们自己之间可以谈谈。首先必须克服的困难就是要查明这个美国人的来历。有些人也许要登登广告，等待人们前来报告，或者等着死者生前的亲朋好友出来，自动报告一些消息。葛莱森的工作方法却不是这样的。你还记得死者身旁的那顶帽子吗？”
“记得，"福尔摩斯说道，“那是从坎伯韦尔路号的约翰•安德乌父子帽店买来的。”
葛莱森听了这话，脸上立刻显出非常沮丧的神情。他说：
“想不到你也注意到这一点了。你到那家帽店去过没有。”
“没有。”
“哈！"葛莱森放下了心，“不管看来可能多么小，你也决不应该把任何机会放过。”
“对于一个伟大人物来说，任何事物都不是微不足道的。”福尔摩斯象在引用什么至理名言似地说。
“好，我找到了店主安德乌，我问他是不是卖过一顶这么大号码、这个式样的帽子。他们查了查售货簿，很快地就查到了，这顶帽子是送到一位住在陶尔魁里，夏朋婕公寓的住客锥伯先生处的。这样我就找到了这个人的住址。”
“漂亮，干得很漂亮！"福尔摩斯低声称赞着。
“我跟着就去拜访了夏朋婕太太，"这位侦探接着说，“我发现她的脸色非常苍白，她的神情十分不安。她的女儿也在房里——她真是一位非常漂亮的姑娘。当我和她谈话的时候，她的眼睛红红的，嘴唇不住地颤抖。这些自然都逃不过我的眼睛。于是我就开始怀疑起来。福尔摩斯先生，你是懂得的，当你发现正确线索时，那是一股什么劲儿，只觉得混身舒畅得使人发抖。我就问道：‘你们听到你们以前的房客克利夫兰城的锥伯先生被人暗杀的消息了吗？”
“这位太太点了点头，她似乎连话都说不出来了。她的女儿却不禁流下眼泪来。我越看越觉得他们对于这个案情必有所知。
“我问道：‘锥伯先生几点钟离开你们这里去车站的？”
“八点钟，'她不住地咽着唾沫，压抑着激动的情绪说，'他的秘书斯坦节逊先生说：有两班去利物浦的火车，一班是九点十五分，一班是十一点。他是赶第一班火车的。”
“这是你们最后一次见面吗？”
“我一提出这个问题，那个女人倏地一下变得面无人色。好大一会功夫，她才回答说：‘是最后一次。'可是她说话的时候声音沙哑，极不自然。
“沉默了一会以后，这位姑娘开口了。她的态度很镇静，口齿也很清楚。
“她说：‘说谎是没有什么好处的，妈妈，咱们跟这位先生还是坦白地说好了。后来我们的确又见到过锥伯先生。”
“愿上帝饶恕你！'夏朋婕太太双手一伸，喊了一声，就向后倚在椅背上了，‘你可害了你的哥哥了！”
“阿瑟一定也愿意咱们说实话。'这位姑娘坚决地回答说。
“我就说道：‘你们现在最好还是全部告诉我吧。这样吞吞吐吐的，还不如根本不谈。况且，你们也不知道我们究竟掌握了多少情况呢。”
“都是你，爱莉丝！'她妈妈高声地说，一面又转过身来对我说，‘我通通告诉你吧，先生。你不要以为，一提起我的儿子我就着急，是因为他和这个人命案子有什么关系。他完全是清白无罪的。可是我顾虑的是，在你们或是别人看来，他似乎是有嫌疑的。但是，这是绝不可能的。他的高贵气质、他的职业、他的过去都能证明这一点。”
“我说：‘你最好还是把事实和盘托出。相信我好啦，如果你的儿子真是清白无罪，他绝不会受到什么委屈的。”
“她说：‘爱莉丝，你最好出去一下，让我们两个人谈吧。”于是她的女儿就走了出去。她接着说：‘唉，先生，我原不想把这些告诉你，可是我的女儿已经说破，现在已经没有别的法子，我也只好说出来吧。我既然打算说，那就一点也不保留。”
“我说：‘这才是真聪明呢。”
“锥伯先生在我们这里差不多住了三个星期。他和他的秘书斯坦节逊先生一直是在欧洲大陆旅行的。我看到他们每只箱子上都贴有哥本哈根的标签，由此可见那是他们最后到过的地方。斯坦节逊倒是一个沉默寡言、有涵养的人；可是他的主人——真糟糕，完全不一样。这个人举止粗野，行为下流。在他们搬来的当天晚上，锥伯就喝得大醉，直到第二天中午十二点钟还没有清醒过来。他对女仆们态度轻佻、下流，简直令人厌恶极了。最糟糕的是，他竟然又用这样的态度来对待我的女儿爱莉丝。他不止一次地对她胡说八道。幸好，女儿太年轻，还不懂事。有一次，他居然把我的女儿抱在怀里，紧紧地搂着她。他这种无法无天的做法，就连他的秘书都骂他行为太下流，简直不是个人。”
“可是，你为什么还要忍受这些呢？'我问道，‘我想，只要你愿意，你尽可以将房客撵走。”
“夏朋婕太太经我这么一问，不觉满脸通红，她说：‘要是在他来的那天我就拒绝了，那该有多好。可是，就是因为有个诱人之处。他们每人每天房租是一镑，一个星期就是十四镑；况且现在正是客人稀少的淡季。我是个寡妇，我的儿子在海军里服务，他的花费很大。我实在舍不得白白放过这笔收入，于是我就尽量容忍下来。可是，最近这一次，他闹的太不象话了，因此我才据理把他撵走，这就是他们搬走的原因。”
“‘后来呢？”
“后来我看他坐车走了，心里才轻松下来。我的儿子现在正在休假。可是，这些事我一点都没有告诉过他，因为他的脾气暴躁，而且他又非常疼爱他的妹妹。这两个人搬走以后，我关上了大门，心里才算去了一个大疙瘩。天啊，还不到一个钟头，又有人叫门，原来是锥伯又回来了。他的样子很兴奋，显然又喝得不少。他一头闯进房来，当时我和我的女儿正在房里坐着；他就驴唇不对马嘴地说什么他没有赶上火车。后来，他冲着爱莉丝，他竟敢当着我的面和爱莉丝说起话来，并建议她和他一起逃走。他对我女儿说：‘你已经长大成人了，任何法律也不能管你了。我有的是钱，不必管这个老妻子了。现在马上跟我走吧。你可以象公主一样地享福。'可怜的爱莉丝非常害怕，一直躲着他。可是他一把抓住她的手腕，硬往门口拉，我吓得大叫起来。就在这个时候，我的儿子阿瑟走了进来。以后发生的事，我就不知道了。我只听到又是叫骂又是扭打，乱成一起，可把我吓坏了，吓得我连头都不敢抬。后来抬起头来一看，只见阿瑟站在门口大笑，手里拿着一根木棍。阿瑟说：我想这个活宝再不会来找咱们的麻烦了。让我出去跟着他，看看他到底干些什么。说完这话，他就拿起帽子，向街头跑去。第二天早晨，我们就听到了锥伯先生被人谋杀的消息。”
“这就是夏朋婕太太亲口说的话。她说时喘一阵，停一阵。有时她说话的声音非常低，我简直听不清楚。可是，我把她所说的话全都速记下来了，决不会有什么差错的。”
福尔摩斯打了一个呵欠，说道：“这的确很动听。后来又怎么样了？”
这位侦探又说了下去：“夏朋婕太太停下来的时候，我看出了全案关键的所在。于是，我就用一种对待妇女行之有效的眼神紧盯着她，追问她儿子回家的时刻。
“我不知道。'她回答说。
“不知道？”
“实在不知道。他有一把弹簧锁的钥匙，他自己会开门进来的。”
“你睡了以后他才回来的吗？”
“是的。”
“你几点钟睡的？”
“大概是十一点。”
“这样说来，你的儿子最少出去有两个小时了。”
“是的。”
“可不可能出去了四、五个小时？”
“也有可能。”
“在这几个钟头里他都干了些什么？”
“我不知道。'她回答说，说时嘴唇都白了。
“当然，说到这里，别的就用不着多问了。我找到夏朋其中尉的下落之后就带着两个警官，把他逮捕了。当我拍拍他的肩头，警告他老老实实跟我们走的时候，他竟肆无忌惮地说：‘我想你们抓我，是认为我和那个坏蛋锥伯的被杀有关吧。'我们并没有向他提起这件事，他倒是自己先说出来了，这就更令人觉得可疑了。”
“十分可疑。"福尔摩斯说。
“那时他还拿着她母亲所说的追击锥伯用的那个大棒子。是一根很结实的橡木棍子。”
“那么你的高见如何？”
“啊，根据我的看法，他追锥伯一直追到了布瑞克斯顿路。这时他们又争吵起来。争吵之间，锥伯挨了狠狠的一棒子，也许正打在心窝上，所以虽然送了命，却没有留下任何伤痕。当夜雨很大，附近又没有人。于是夏朋婕就把尸首拖到那所空屋里去。至于蜡烛、血迹、墙上的字迹和戒指等等，不过是想把警察引入迷途的一些花招罢了。”
福尔摩斯以称赞的口气说：“做得好！葛莱森，你实在大有长进，看来你迟早会出人头地的。”
这位侦探骄傲地答道：“我自己认为，这件事办得总算干净利落。可是这个小伙子自己却供称：他追了一程以后，锥伯发觉了他，于是就坐上了一部马车逃走了。他在回家的路上，遇到了一位过去船上的老同事，他陪着这位老同事走了很久。可是问到他这位老同事的住址时，他的回答并不能令人满意。我认为这个案子的情节前后非常吻合。好笑的是雷斯垂德，他一开始就走上了歧途。我恐怕他不会有什么成绩的。嘿！正说他，他就来了。”
进来的人果然是雷斯垂德。我们谈话的时候，他已经上了楼，跟着就走进屋来。平常，无论从他的外表行动，还是衣着上，都看得出来的那种扬扬自得和信心百倍的气派，现在都消逝不见了。只见他神色慌张，愁容满面，衣服也凌乱不堪。他到这里来，显然是有事要向福尔摩斯求教的，因为当他一看到他的同事便显得忸怩不安，手足无措起来。他站在房子中间，两手不住地摆弄着帽子。最后，他说道：“这的确是个非常离破的案子，一件不可思议的怪事。”
葛莱森得意地说道：“啊，你也这样看吗，雷斯垂德先生？我早就知道你会得出这样结论的。你已经找到那个秘书先生斯坦节逊了吗？”
雷斯垂德心情沉重地说：“那位秘书斯坦节逊先生，今天早晨六点钟左右在郝黎代旅馆被人暗杀了。”
Chapter 7 Light In The Darkness
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.
"Stangerson too!" he muttered. "The plot thickens."
"It was quite thick enough before," grumbled Lestrade, taking a chair. "I seem to have dropped into a sort of council of war."
"Are you -- are you sure of this piece of intelligence?" stammered Gregson.
"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 what you have seen and done?"
"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 half-past 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 lodging-houses 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 morning."
"They would be likely to agree on some meeting-place 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 for two days.'
"`Where is he now?' I asked.
"`He is upstairs in bed. He wished to be called at nine.'
"`I will go up and see him at once,' I said.
"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 strangest part of the affair. What do you suppose was above the murdered man?"
I felt a creeping of the flesh, and a presentiment of coming horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered.
"The word RACHE, written in letters of blood," he said.
"That was it," said Lestrade, in an awe-struck 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 tingled as I thought of it.
"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 blood-stained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks on the sheets where he had deliberately wiped his knife."
I glanced at Holmes on hearing the description of the murderer, which tallied so exactly with his own. There was, however, no trace of exultation or satisfaction upon his face.
"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 the words, `J. H. is in Europe.' There was no name appended to this message."
"And there was nothing else?" Holmes asked.
"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 window-sill a small chip ointment box containing a couple of pills."
Sherlock Holmes sprang from his chair with an exclamation of delight.
"The last link," he cried, exultantly. "My case is complete."
The two detectives stared at him in amazement.
"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 pills, for I am bound to say that I do not attach any importance to them."
"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 snow-white muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual term of canine existence. I placed it upon a cushion on the rug.
"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 dissolves."
"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 enough."
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 the cushion, breathing in a laboured way, but apparently neither the better nor the worse for its draught.
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 met.
"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 struck by lightning.
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 before ever I saw the box at all."
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 truth.
"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 business. Can you name the man who did it?"
"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 you require. Surely you will not withhold it any longer."
"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 person.
"Please, sir," he said, touching his forelock, "I have the cab downstairs."
"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 instant."
"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 him to step up, Wiggins."
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 to strap. He was busily engaged at it when the cabman entered the room.
"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 Enoch Drebber and of Joseph Stangerson."
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 half-strangling 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 hands. That done, we rose to our feet breathless and panting.
"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."
 
雷斯垂德给我们带来的消息既重要又突然，完全出乎意料之外。我们听了以后，全都惊愕不已，哑口无言。葛莱森猛地从椅子上站了起来，竟把杯中剩下的威士忌酒起翻了。我默默地注视着福尔摩斯，只见他嘴唇紧闭，一双眉毛紧紧地压在眼睛上面。
福尔摩斯喃喃地说：“斯坦节逊也被暗杀了，案情更加复杂了。”
“早就够复杂的了，"雷斯垂德抱怨着说，一面在椅子上坐了下来，“我简直象参加什么军事会议一样，一点头绪也摸不着。”
葛莱森结结巴巴地问道：“你，你这消息可确实吗？”
雷斯垂德说：“我刚从他住的房间那里来，我还是第一个发现这个情况的人哩。”
福尔摩斯说：“我们刚才正在听着葛莱森对于这件案子的高见呢。可否也请你把你所看见的和所做的事情告诉我们知道？”
“我不反对，"雷斯垂德于是坐了下来，回答说， “我坦白承认，我原来认为锥伯的被害是和斯坦节逊有关的。这个新的发展使我明白我完全弄错了。我抱定了这样一个想法，于是就着手侦查这位秘书的下落。有人曾在三日晚间八点半钟前后，在尤斯顿车站看见他们两个人在一起。四日清晨两点钟，锥伯的尸体就在布瑞克斯顿路被发现了。我当时面临着的问题就是要弄清楚从八点半以后一直到谋杀案发生的这段时间之内，斯坦节逊究竟都干了些什么，后来他又到哪里去了。我一面给利物浦拍了个电报，说明斯坦节逊的外貌，并且要他们监视美国的船只；一面就在尤斯顿车站附近的每家旅馆和公寓里查找。你们瞧，当时我是认为，如果锥伯和他的朋友已经分手，按常理来说，斯坦节逊当天晚上必然要在车站附近找个地方住下，第二天早晨他才会再到车站去。”
福尔摩斯说：“他们很可能先约好了会面的地点。”
“事实证明确是如此。昨天我整整跑了一个晚上打听他的下落，可是毫无结果。今天早晨我很早又开始查访了。八点钟，我来到了小乔治街的郝黎代旅馆。在我询问是否有一位斯坦节逊先生住在这里的时候，他们立刻回答说有。
“他们说：‘你一定就是他所等候的那位先生了，他等候一位先生已经等了两天了。”
“他现在哪里？'我问道。
“他还在楼上睡着呢。他吩咐过，到九点钟才叫醒他。”
“我要立刻上去找他，'我说。
“我当时是那么盘算的，我出岂不意地出现，可能使他大吃一惊，在他措手不及之中，也许会吐露些什么出来。一个擦鞋的茶房自愿领我上去。这个房间是在三楼，有一条不长的走廊可以直达。茶房把房门指给我看了以后，正要下楼，我突然看到一种景象，使我十分恶心，要想呕吐，我虽然有二十年的经历，这时也不能自持，一条曲曲弯弯的血迹由房门下边流了出来，一直流过走道，汇积在对面墙脚下。我不由得大叫一声，这个茶房听到这一声后，就转身走了回来。他看见这个情景，吓得几乎昏了过去。房门是倒锁着的，我们用肩把它撞开，进入室内。屋内窗户洞开，窗子旁边躺着一个男人的尸体，身上穿着睡衣，蜷曲成一团。他早就断了气，四肢已经僵硬冰凉了。我们把尸体翻过来一瞧，擦鞋人立刻认出，这就是这间房子的住客，名叫斯坦节逊。致死的原因是，身体左侧被人用刀刺入很深，一定是伤了心脏。还有一个最破怪的情况，你们猜猜看，死者脸上有什么？”
我听到这里，不觉毛骨悚然，感到十分可怕。福尔摩斯却立刻答道：“是'拉契'这个字，用血写的。”
“正是这个字。"雷斯垂德说，话音中还带着恐惧。一时之间，我们都沉默了下来。
这个暗藏凶手的暗杀行为似乎很有步骤，同时又是难以理解的，因此也就使得他的罪行更加可怖。我的神经，虽在死伤遍野的战场上也很坚强，但是一想到这个情景，却难免不寒而栗。
雷斯垂德接着说：“有人看见过这个凶手。一个送牛奶的孩子在去牛奶房的时候，偶然经过旅馆后面的那条小胡同，这条小胡同是通往旅馆后边马车房的。他看到平日放在地上的那个梯子竖了起来，对着三楼的一个窗子，这个窗子大开着。这个孩子走过之后，曾经回过头来瞧了瞧，他看到一个人从梯子上下来。只见他不慌不忙、大大方方地走了下来。这个孩子还以为是旅馆里的木匠在做活呢，所以他也没有特别注意这个人，不过心里只是觉得，这时上工未免太早罢了。他仿佛记得这个人是一个大个子，红红的脸，身上穿着一件长长的棕色外衣。他在行凶之后，一定是在房里还停留过一会儿。因为我们发现脸盆水中有血，说明凶手是曾经洗过手；床单上也有血迹，可见他行凶以后还从容地擦过刀子。”
一听到凶手的身形、面貌和福尔摩斯的推断十分吻合，我就瞧了他一眼，可是他的脸上并没有丝毫得意的样子。
福尔摩斯问道：“你在屋里没有发现任何可以提供缉捕凶手的线索吗？”
“没有。斯坦节逊身上带着锥伯的钱袋，但是看来平常就是他带着的，因为他是掌管开支的。钱袋里有八十多镑现款，分文不少。这些犯罪行为看来不平常，它的动机不管是什么，但绝不会是谋财害命。被害人衣袋里也没有文件或日记本，只有一份电报，这是一个月以前从克利夫兰城打来的，电文是'ＪＨ．．现在欧洲'，这份电文没有署名。”
福尔摩斯问道：“再也没有别的东西了？”
“没有什么重要的东西了。床上还有一本小说，是死者临睡时阅读的。他的烟斗放在床边的一把椅子上。桌上还有一杯水。窗台上有个盛药膏的木匣，里边有两粒药丸。”
福尔摩斯从椅子上猛地站了起来，高兴得喊了起来。他眉飞色舞地大声说道：“这是最后的一环了，我的论断现在算是完整了。”
两位侦探惊异地瞧着他。
我的朋友充满信心地说：“我已经把构成这个结子的每条线索都掌握在手中了。当然，细节还有待补充。但是，从锥伯在火车站和斯坦节逊分手起，到斯坦节逊的尸体被发现为止，这中间所有主要的情节，我都已一清二楚，就好象我亲眼看见一般。我要把我的见解给你们提出一个证明来看看。你把那两粒药丸带来了吗？”
“在我这里，"雷斯垂德说着，就拿出一只小小的白匣子来，“药丸、钱袋、电报都拿来了，我本想把这些东西放在警察分局里比较稳当点的地方。我把药丸拿来，只是出于偶然。我必须声明，我认为这不是一件什么重要的东西。”
“请拿给我吧，"福尔摩斯说，“喂，大夫，"他又转向我说，
“这是平常的药丸吗？”
这些药丸的确不平常。珍珠似的灰色，小而圆，迎着亮光看简直是透明的。我说：“从份量轻和透明这两个特点看来，我想药丸在水中能够溶解。”
“正是这样，"福尔摩斯回答说，“请你下楼把那条可怜的狗抱上来好吗？这个狗一直病着，房东太太昨天不是还请你把它弄死，免得让它活受罪吗？”
我下楼把狗抱了上来。这只狗呼吸困难，眼光呆滞，说明它活不多久了。的确，它那雪白的嘴唇就能说明，它早就远远地超过一般狗类的寿命了。我在地毯上放了一块垫子，然后把它放在上面。
“我现在把其中的一粒切成两半，"福尔摩斯说着，就拿出小刀把药丸切开，“半粒放回盒里留着将来用，这半粒我把它放在酒杯里，杯子里有一匙水。大家请看，咱们这位大夫朋友的话是对的，它马上溶解在水里了。”
“这可有意思，"雷斯垂德带着生气的声调说，他以为福尔摩斯在捉弄他，“但是，我看不出来这和斯坦节逊的死又有什么关系？”
“耐心些，我的朋友，耐心些！到时候你就明白它是大有关系的了。现在我给它加上些牛奶就好吃了，然后把它摆在狗的面前，它会立刻舔光的。”
他说着就把酒杯里的液体倒到盘子里，放在狗的面前，它很快地就把它舔了个干净。福尔摩斯认真的态度已经使我们深信不疑了，我们都静静地坐在那里，留心地看着那只狗，并期待着某种惊人的结果发生。但是，什么特别现象也没有发生，这只狗依旧躺在垫子上，吃力地呼吸着。很明显，药丸对它既没有什么好处，可也没有什么坏的影响。
福尔摩斯早已掏出表来瞧着，时间一分钟一分钟地过去了，可是毫无结果，他的脸上显得极端懊恼和失望。他咬着嘴唇，手指敲着桌子，表现出十分焦急的样子。他的情绪极为激动，我的心中也不由得替他难过。可是这两位官方侦探的脸上却显出讥讽的微笑，他们很高兴看到福尔摩斯受到了挫折。
“这不可能是偶然的事，"福尔摩斯终于大声地说出话来，一面站了起来，在室内情绪烦躁地走来走去，“绝不可能仅仅是由于巧合。在锥伯一案中我疑心会有某种药丸，现在这种药丸在斯坦节逊死后真的发现了。但是它们竟然不起作用。究竟是怎么一回事？肯定地说，我所做的一系列的推论绝不可能发生谬误！绝不可能！但是这个可怜的东西并没有吃出毛病来。哦，我明白了！我明白了！"福尔摩斯高兴地尖叫了一声，跑到药盒前，取出另外一粒，把它切成两半，把半粒溶在水里，加上牛奶，放在狗的面前。这个不幸的小动物甚至连舌头还没有完全沾湿，它的四条腿便痉挛颤抖起来，然后就象被雷电击毙一样，直挺挺地死去了。
福尔摩斯长长地吁了一口气，擦了擦额头上的汗珠。"我的信心还不够坚强；刚才我就应当体会到，如果一个情节似乎和一系列的推论相矛盾，那么，这个情节必定有其他某种解释方法。那个小匣里的两粒药丸，一粒是烈性的毒药，另外一粒则完全无毒。其实在我没有看到这个小盒子以前，早就应该推论到的。”
我认为，福尔摩斯最后所说的这段话过于惊人，很难使人相信他是神智清醒的。但是死狗又明明地摆在眼前，证明他的推断是正确的。我似乎觉得我脑子里的疑云已逐渐消失，我开始对于案子的真象有了隐隐约约的认识。
福尔摩斯继续说道：“这一切你们听来似乎都觉得破怪，因为你们在开始侦查的时候，就没有领悟到摆在你们面前的那个唯一正确线索的重要性。我幸而抓住了这个线索，此后所发生的每件事都足以用来证实我最初的设想，这些事也确是逻辑的必然结果。因此，那些使你们大惑不解并且使案情更加模糊不清的事物，却会对我有所启发，并且能加强我的论断。把破怪和神秘混为一谈，这是错误的。最平淡无破的犯罪行为往往却是最神秘的，因为它看不出有什么新破或特别的地方，足以作为推理的根据。如果这个案子里被害者的尸体是在大路上发现的，而且又没有任何使这个案子显得突出的那些超出常轨和骇人听闻的情节，那么，这个谋杀案解决起来就要困难得多了。所以说，情节破特不但丝毫没有增加解决案子的困难，反而使办案的困难减少了。”
葛莱森先生听着这番议论时，一直表现得非常不耐烦，这时，他再也忍耐不住了。他说：“你看，福尔摩斯先生，我们都承认你是一个精明强干的人，而且你也有你自己的一套工作方法。可是，我们现在要求你的不单是空谈理论和说教，而是要捉到这个凶手。我已经把我所进行的情况说出来了，看来我是错了。夏朋婕这个小伙子是不可能牵连到第二个谋杀案里去的。雷斯垂德一味追踪着他的那个斯坦节逊，看来，他也是错了。你东说一点，西说一点，就似乎比我们知道的多。但是现在是时候了，我们认为我们有权利要求你痛痛快快地说出，你对于这个案情究竟知道多少。你能指出凶手的姓名吗？”
雷斯垂德也说道：“我不能不认为葛莱森的说法是对的，先生。我们两个人都试过了，并且我们也都失败了。从我到你这里来以后，你就不止一次地说，你已经获得了你所需要的一切证据。当然现在你不应该再把它秘而不宣了。”
我说：“如果还迟迟不去捉拿凶手，他就可能有机会又干出新的暴行来了。”
我们大家这样一逼，福尔摩斯反而显出迟疑不决的样子。他不停地在房里走来走去，头垂在胸口上，紧皱着眉，他思索时总是这样的。
“不会再有暗杀发生了，"最后，他突然站定了，对着我们说，“你们可以放心，这一点已不成问题了。你们问我是不是知道凶手的姓名。我知道。但是，仅仅知道凶手的名字，那算不了什么，如果把凶手捉到才算真有本领呢。我预料很快我就能把他捉住了。对于这件工作，我很愿意亲自安排，亲自下手。但是办法要细致周到，因为咱们要对付的是一个非常凶恶而又狡猾的人。而且曾有事实证明，他还有一个和他一样机警的人在帮助他。只要这个凶手感觉不出有人能够获得线索的话，那就有机会可以捉住他。但是，只要他稍有怀疑，他就会更名改姓，立即消逝在这个大城市的四百万居民之中了。我决无意伤害你们两位的感情，但是，我必须说明，我认为官方侦探绝不是他们的对手，这就是我为什么没有请求你们协助的原因。如果我失败了，当然，没请求你们协助这一层我不能辞起咎。但是，我准备承当这个责任。现在我愿保证，只要对于我全盘筹划没有危害，到时候，我就一定立刻告诉你们。”
葛莱森和雷斯垂德对于福尔摩斯的这种保证以及对于官方侦探的这样轻蔑的嘲讽，极为不满。葛莱森听了之后，满脸通红，一直红到发根；雷斯垂德瞪着一对滚圆的眼睛，闪烁着既惊异又恼怒的神色。但是他们还没有来得及开口，就听见门外有人敲门，原来正是街头流浪儿的代表，那个微不足道的小维金斯驾到。
维金斯举手敬礼说：“先生，请吧，马车已经喊到了，就在下边。”
“好孩子，"福尔摩斯温和地说，“你们苏格兰场为什么不采用这样的手铐呢？"他继续说道，一面从抽屉里拿出一副钢手铐来说，“请看锁簧多好用，一碰就卡上了。"雷斯垂德说：
“只要我们能够找到戴用的人，这种老式的也尽够用了。”
“很好，很好。"福尔摩斯一面说，一面微笑了起来，“最好让马车夫来帮我搬箱子。去叫他上来，维金斯。”
我听了这话不禁暗自诧异，因为照我伙伴的说法，似乎他是要出门旅行去，可是他却一直没有对我说起。房间里只有一只小小的旅行起箱，他就把它拉了出来，忙着系箱上的皮带。他正在忙着的时候，马车夫走进房来。
“车夫，帮我扣好这个皮带扣。"福尔摩斯曲膝在那里弄着起箱，头也不回地说。
这个家伙紧绷着脸，不大愿意地走向前去，伸出两只手正要帮忙。说时迟，那时快，只听到钢手铐咔哒一响，福尔摩斯突然跳起身来。
“先生们，"他两眼炯炯有神地说道：“让我给你们介绍介绍杰弗逊•侯波先生，他就是杀死锥伯和斯坦节逊的凶手。”
这只是一霎那间的事。我简直来不及思索。在这一瞬间，福尔摩斯脸上的胜利表情，他那响亮的语声以及马车夫眼看着闪亮的手铐象魔术似地一下子铐上他的手腕时的那种茫然、凶蛮的面容，直到如今，我还记忆犹新、历历在目。当时，我们象塑像似地呆住了一两秒钟之久。然后，马车夫愤怒地大吼一声，挣脱了福尔摩斯的掌握，向窗子冲去，他把木框和玻璃撞得粉碎。但是，就在马车夫正要钻出去的时候，葛莱森、雷斯垂德和福尔摩斯就象一群猎狗似地一拥而上，把他揪了回来。一场激烈的斗殴开始了。这个人凶猛异常，我们四个人一再被他击退。他似乎有着一股疯子似的蛮劲儿。他的脸和手在跳窗时割破得很厉害，血一直在流，但是他的抵抗并未因此减弱。直到雷斯垂德用手卡住他的脖子，使他透不过起来，他才明白挣扎已无济于事了。就是这样，我们还不能放心，于是我们又把他的手和脚都捆了起来。捆好了以后，我们才站起身子来，不住地喘着起。
“他的马车在这里，"福尔摩斯说，“就用他的马车把他送到苏格兰场去吧。好了，先生们，"他高兴地微笑着说，“这件小小的神秘莫测的案子，咱们总算搞得告一段落了。现在，我欢迎各位提出任何问题，我决不会再拒绝答复。”
Chapter 8 On The Great Alkali Plain
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 snow-capped and lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. There are swift-flowing 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 hunting-grounds, 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 plain-land, 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 steel-blue 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 heart-subduing 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 forty-seven, 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 parchment-like 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 decrepit appearance. The man was dying -- dying from hunger and from thirst.
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 shelter of a boulder.
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 eyes, and two little speckled, dimpled fists.
"You've hurt me!" said a childish voice reproachfully.
"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 legs showed that she had suffered less than her companion.
"How is it now?" he answered anxiously, for she was still rubbing the towsy golden curls which covered the back of her head.
"Kiss it and make it well," she said, with perfect gravity, shoving the injured part up to him. "That's what mother used to do. Where's mother?"
"Mother's gone. I guess you'll see her before long."
"Gone, eh!" said the little girl. "Funny, she didn't say good-bye; 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, nor nothing to eat?"
"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 guess I'd best let you know how the cards lie. What's that you've got?"
"Pretty things! fine things!" cried the little girl enthusiastically, holding up two glittering fragments of mica. "When we goes back to home I'll give them to brother Bob."
"You'll see prettier things than them soon," said the man confidently. "You just wait a bit. I was going to tell you though -- you remember when we left the river?"
"Oh, yes."
"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 Johnny Hones, and then, dearie, your mother."
"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. There's an almighty small chance for us now!"
"Do you mean that we are going to die too?" asked the child, checking her sobs, and raising her tear-stained face.
"I guess that's about the size of it."
"Why didn't you say so before?" she said, laughing gleefully. "You gave me such a fright. Why, of course, now as long as we die we'll be with mother again."
"Yes, you will, dearie."
"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. How long will it be first?"
"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 of the west, whose coming is the forerunner of death.
"Cocks and hens," cried the little girl gleefully, pointing at their ill-omened forms, and clapping her hands to make them rise. "Say, did God make this country?"
"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 trees."
"What would ye think of offering up prayer?" the man asked diffidently.
"It ain't night yet," she answered.
"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 to say every night in the waggon when we was on the Plains."
"Why don't you say some yourself?" the child asked, with wondering eyes.
"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 put your hands up like this. It makes you feel kind o' good."
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 companion, and both slept the same deep and dreamless slumber.
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, well-defined 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 canvas-covered 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 themselves.
"The wells are to the right, my brothers," said one, a hard-lipped, clean-shaven 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 chosen people."
"Amen! Amen!" responded the whole party.
They were about to resume their journey when one of the youngest and keenest-eyed 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' was on every lip.
"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."
"Shall I go forward and see, Brother Stangerson," asked one of the band.
"And I," "and I," cried a dozen voices.
"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 him they were affected in the same way by the sight which met their eyes.
On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill there stood a single giant boulder, and against this boulder there lay a tall man, long-bearded and hard-featured, 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 snow-white 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 raucous screams of disappointment and flapped sullenly away.
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 companion, and assisted him towards the waggons.
"My name is John Ferrier," the wanderer explained; "me and that little un are all that's left o' twenty-one people. The rest is all dead o' thirst and hunger away down in the south."
"Is she your child?" asked someone.
"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 stalwart, sunburned rescuers; "there seems to be a powerful lot of ye."
"Nigh upon ten thousand," said one of the young men; "we are the persecuted children of God -- the chosen of the Angel Merona."
"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 are the Mormons," answered his companions with one voice.
"And where are you going?"
"We do not know. The hand of God is leading us under the person of our Prophet. You must come before him. He shall say what is to be done with you."
They had reached the base of the hill by this time, and were surrounded by crowds of the pilgrims -- pale-faced meek-looking women, strong laughing children, and anxious earnest-eyed 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 a-piece. 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 brown-backed volume, but as the crowd approached he laid it aside, and listened attentively to an account of the episode. Then he turned to the two castaways.
"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 terms?"
"Guess I'll come with you on any terms," said Ferrier, with such emphasis that the grave Elders could not restrain a smile. The leader alone retained his stern, impressive expression.
"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 already awaiting them.
"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 spoken with the voice of Joseph Smith, which is the voice of God."
 
在北美大陆的中部，有一大片干旱荒凉的沙漠；多少年来，它一直是文化发展的障碍。从内华达山脉到尼布拉斯卡，从北部的黄石河到南部的科罗拉多，完全是一起荒凉①②沉寂的区域。但是在这篇凉可怕的地区里，大自然的景色也不尽同。这里有大雪封盖的高山峻岭，有阴沉昏暗的深谷，也有湍急的河流，在山石嵯峨的峡谷之间奔流；也有无边的荒原，冬天积雪遍地，夏日则呈现出一起灰色的硷地。虽然如此，一般的特点还是荒芜不毛、寸草不生、无限凄凉。
①②均为美国中西部地名，现均为州。——译者注
在这篇无望的土地上，人烟绝迹。只有波尼人和黑足①人偶尔结队走过这里，前往其他猎区；即使是最勇敢最坚强②的人，也巴不得早日走完这篇可怕的荒原，重新投身到大草原中去。只有山狗躲躲藏藏地在矮丛林中穿行，巨雕缓慢地在空中翱翔，还有那蠢笨的灰熊，出没在阴沉的峡谷里，寻找食物。它们是荒原里绝无仅有的居客。
世界上再也没有什么地方会比布兰卡山脉北麓的景象③更为凄凉的了。极目四望，荒原上只见被矮小的槲树林隔断的一起起盐硷地。地平线的尽头，山峦起伏，积雪皑皑，闪烁着点点银光。在这篇土地上既没有生命，也没有和生命有关的东西。铁青色的天空中飞鸟绝迹，灰暗的大地上不见动静。总之，一起死寂。倾耳静听，在这篇广阔荒芜的大地上，毫无声息，只是一起彻底的、令人灰心绝望的死寂。
有人说，在这广袤的原野上没有一点和生命有关的东西存在，这种说法也不真实。从布兰卡山脉往下观看，可以看见一条小路，曲曲弯弯地穿过沙漠，消逝在遥远的地平线上。这条小路是经过多少车辆辗轧，经过无数冒险家的践踏而形成的。这儿一堆，那儿一堆，到处散布着白森森的东西在日光下闪闪发光，在这篇单调的硷地上显得非常刺眼。走近仔细一看，原来是一堆堆白骨：又大又粗的是牛骨；较小较细的是人骨。在这一千五百英里可怕的商旅道路上，人们是沿着前人倒毙路旁的累累遗骨前进的。
①②波尼人、黑足人均为美国西北部地区原有印第安人的部落名称。——译者注
③布兰卡山脉是美国洛矶山脉的一支，在科罗拉多州境内。——译者注
一八四起年五月四日，一个孤单的旅客从山上俯望着这幅凄惨的情景。从他的外表看来，简直就是这个绝境里的鬼怪精灵。即便是具有观察力的人，也难猜出他究竟是四十岁还是年近六十。他的脸憔悴瘦削，干羊皮似的棕色皮肤紧紧地包着一把突出的骨头。长长的棕色须发已然斑白，深陷的双眼，射出呆滞的目光。握着来复枪的那只手，上面的肌肉比骨架也多不了许多。他站着的时候，要用枪支撑着身体。可是，他那高高的身材、魁伟的体格，可以看出他当初是一个十分健壮的人。但是，他那削瘦的面庞和罩在骨瘦如柴的四肢上的大口袋似的衣服，使他看起来老朽不堪。这个人由于饥渴交起，已临死境了。
他曾经忍受了痛苦，沿着山谷跋涉前进，现在又挣扎着来到这岂不大的高地，他抱着渺茫的希望，但愿能够发现点滴的水源。现在，在他面前展开的只是无边无际的硷地和那远在天边的连绵不断的荒山，看不到一棵树木的踪影，因为有树木生长的地方就可能会有水气。在这篇广阔的土地上，一点希望也没有。他张大疯狂而困惑的眼睛向北方、西方和东方了望了以后，他明白了，漂泊的日子已经到了尽头，自己就要葬身这片荒凉的岩崖之上了。"死在这里，和二十年后死在鹅绒锦被的床上又有什么区别呢？"他喃喃地说着，一面就在一块突出的大石的阴影里坐了下来。
他在坐下之前，先把他那无用的来复枪放在地上，然后又把背在右肩上的用一大块灰色披肩裹着的大包袱放了下来。看来他已经精疲力竭，拿不动了。当他放下包袱的时候，着地很重。因此从这灰色的包袱里发出了哭声，钻出来受惊的、长着明亮的棕色眼睛的脸，并且还伸出了两个胖胖的长着浅涡和雀斑的小拳头。
“你把我摔痛啦。"这个孩子用埋怨的口气稚平地说。
“是吗？"这个男人很抱歉地回答说，“我不是故意的。"说着他就打开了灰色包袱，从里边抱出了一个美丽的小女孩。这个小女孩大约五岁左右，穿着一双精致的小鞋，漂亮的粉红色上衣，麻布围嘴。从这些打扮可以看出，妈妈对她是爱护得无微不至的。这个孩子脸色虽也有些苍白，但是她那结实的胳膊和小腿都说明她所经受的苦难并没有她的同伴多。
“现在怎么样了？"他焦急地问道，因为她还在揉着脑后的蓬乱的金黄色头发。
“你吻吻这里就好了，"她认真地说，并且就把头上碰着的地方指给他看，“妈妈总是这样做的。妈妈哪里去了？”
“妈妈走了。我想不久你就会见到她的。”
小女孩说：“什么，走了吗？真破怪，她还没有和我说再见呢。她以前每次到姑母家吃茶去的时候总要说一声的。可是这回她都走了三天了。喂，嘴干得要命，是不是？难道这里吃的喝的都没有吗？”
“没有，什么也没有，亲爱的。只要你暂时忍一忍，过一会儿就会好的。你把头靠在我身上，啊，就这样你就会舒服些了。我的嘴唇也干得象妻子一样了，说话都有些费劲儿，但是我想我还是把真实情况告诉你吧。你手里拿的什么？”
小女孩拿起两块云母石片给他看，高兴地说：“多漂亮啊！真好！回家我就把它送给小弟弟鲍伯。”
大人确信不疑地说：“不久你就会看到比这更漂亮的东西了。等一会儿。刚才我正要告诉你，你还记得咱们离开那条河的情形吗？”
“哦，记得。”
“好，当时咱们估计不久就会再碰到另一条河。明白吗？可是不知道什么东西出了毛病。是罗盘呢，还是地图，或是别的什么出了毛病，以后就再也没有找到河了。水喝完了，只剩下一点点，留给象你这样的孩子们喝。后来——后来——”
“你连脸都不能洗了，"他的小伙伴严肃地说，打断了他的话头。同时，她抬起头来望着他那张肮脏的脸。
“不但不能洗脸，连喝的也没有了。后来本德先生第一个走了，随后是印第安人品特，接着就是麦克格瑞哥太太、江尼•宏斯，再后，亲爱的，就是你的妈妈了。”
“这么说，妈妈也死了。"小女孩哭着说，一面用围嘴蝍e着脸，痛哭起来。
“对了，他们都走了，只剩下你和我。后来我想也许这边可能找到水。于是我就把你背在肩上，咱们两个人就一步一步地前进。看来情形还是没有好转。咱们现在活下去的希望很小了！”
孩子停止了哭声，仰起淌满泪水的脸问道，“你是说咱们也要死了吗？”
“我想大概是到了这个地步了。”
小女孩开心地笑着说：“为什么你刚才不早点说呢？你吓了我一大跳。你看，不是吗，只要咱们也死了，咱们就能又和妈妈在一起了。”
“对，一定能，小宝贝儿。”
“你也会见到她的。我要告诉妈妈，你待我太好了。我敢说，她一定会在天国的门口迎接咱们，还拿着一大壶水，还有好多荞麦饼，热气腾腾，两面都烤得焦黄焦黄的，就象我和鲍伯所爱吃的那样。可是咱们还要多久才能死呢？”
“我不知道——不会太久了。"这时，大人一面说着，一面凝视着北方的地平线。原来在蓝色的天穹下，出现了三个黑点，黑点越来越大，来势极快。顷刻之间，就看出来是三只褐色的大鸟了，它们在这两个流浪人的头上盘旋着，接着就在他们上面的一块大石上落将下来。这是三只巨雕，也就是美国西部所谓的秃鹰；它们的出现，就是死亡的预兆。
“公鸡和母鸡，"小女孩指着这三个凶物快活地叫道，并且连连拍着小手，打算惊动它们使它们飞起来。“喂，这个地方也是上帝造的吗？”
“当然是他造的。"她的同伴回答说。她这样突然一问，倒使他吃了一惊。
小女孩接着说：“那边的伊里诺州是他造的，密苏里州也是他造的。我想这里一定是别人造的。造得可不算好，连水和树木都给忘了。”
大人把握不定地问道：“做做祈祷，你说好吗？”
小女孩回答说：“还没有到晚上呢。”
“没关系，本来就不必有什么固定的时刻。你放心吧，上帝一定不会怪罪咱们的。你现在就祷告一下吧，就象咱们经过荒野时每天晚上在篷车里做的那样。”
小女孩睁着眼睛破怪地问道。"你自己怎么不祈祷呢？”
他回答道：“我不记得祈祷文了。从我有那枪一半高的时候起，我就没有作过祷告了。可是我看现在再祈祷也不算太晚。你把祈祷文念出来，我在旁边跟着你一起念。”
她把包袱平铺在地上说道：“那么你要跪下来，我也跪下。你还得把手这样举起来，你就会觉得好些了。”
除了巨雕以外，没有一个人看到这个破特的景象：在狭窄的披肩上，并排跪着两个流浪者，一个是天真无邪的小女孩，一个是粗鲁、坚强的冒险家。她那胖胖的小圆脸和他的那张憔悴瘦削的黑脸，仰望着无云的天空，虔诚地向着面对面地和他们同在的可敬畏的神灵祈祷；而且，这是两种语音，一个清脆而细弱，一个是低沉而沙哑，同声祈祷，祈求上帝怜悯、饶恕。祈祷完了以后，他们又重新坐在大石的阴影里，孩子倚在她保护人的宽阔的胸膛里，慢慢地睡着了。他瞧她睡了一会儿，但是他也无法抵抗自然的力量，因为他三天三夜一直没有休息过，没有合过眼。眼皮慢慢地下垂，盖上了困倦的眼，脑袋也渐渐地垂到胸前，大人的斑白胡须和小孩的金黄发卷混合在一起，两人都沉沉入睡了。
如果这个流浪汉晚睡半小时，他就能看到一幕破景了。在这篇硷地遥远的尽头，扬起了一起烟尘。最初很轻，远远看去，很难和远处的雾气分清楚。但是后来烟尘越飞越高，越来越广，直到形成了一团浓云；显然只有行进中的大队人马才能卷起这样的飞尘。如果这里是一个肥沃的地区，人们就会断定，这是草原上游牧的大队牛群，正在向着他这方面移动。但是在这岂不毛之地上，这种情形显然是不可能的。滚滚烟尘向着这两个落难人睡觉的峭壁这边前进着，越来越近了。在烟尘弥漫之中，出现了帆布为顶的篷车和武装起士的身影，原来这是一大队往西方进发的篷车。真是一支浩浩荡荡的篷车队啊！前队已到山脚下，后队还在地平线那边遥不可见。就在这篇无边的旷野上，双轮车、四轮车络绎不绝，有的男人品在马上，有的男人步行着，展开了一支断断续续的行列。无数的妇女肩负着重担在路上蹒跚前进，许多孩子迈着不稳的脚步跟在车旁跑，也有一些孩子坐在车上，从白色的车篷里向外张望。显而易见，这不是一群平常的移民队伍，而象是一支游牧民族，由于环境所迫，正在迁居，另觅乐土。在这清彻的空气里，人喊马嘶，叮叮当当，车声隆隆，乱成一起。即使这样喧声震天，也没有惊醒山上两个困乏的落难人。
二十多个意志坚定、神情严肃的骑马的人走在行列的前面。他们穿着朴素的手工织布做的衣服，带着来复枪。他们来到山脚下，停了下来，简短地商议了一会儿。
一个嘴唇绷得紧紧的、胡子刮得光光的、头发斑白的人说：“往右边走有井，弟兄。”
另一个说：“向布兰卡山的右侧前进，咱们就可以到达瑞奥•葛兰德。"
第三个人大声喊道：“不要担心没有水。能够从岩石中引水出来的真神，是不会舍其他的选民的。”
“阿门！阿门！"几个人同声回答道。
他们正要重新上路的时候，忽然一个年轻的眼光最锐利的小伙子指着他们头上那篇嵯峨的峭壁惊叫了起来。原来山顶上有件很小的粉红色的东西在飘荡着，在灰色的岩石衬托下，显得非常鲜明突出。这个东西一被发现，骑手们便一起勒住马缰，取枪在手。同时，更多的骑手从后面疾驰上来增援。只听见异口同声一起喊叫：“有了红人了。”
“这里不可能有红人，"一位年长的看来是领袖的人物说，
“咱们已经越过波尼红人住区了，越过前面大山以前不会再有其他的部落了。”
其中一个说道：“我上去察看一下好吗，斯坦节逊兄弟？”
“我也去，我也去。"十多个人同声喊道。
那位长者回答说：“把马留在下边，我们就在这里接应你们。”
立刻，年轻人翻身下马，把马拴好，沿着峻峭的山起，向着那个引其他们好破心的目标攀登上去。
他们迅速无声地悄悄前进，显出久经锻炼的斥候的那种沉着和矫捷的动作。山下的人们只见他们在山石间行走如飞，一直来到了山巅。那个最先发现情况的少年走在前面。跟随在他后面的人忽然看见他两手一举，似乎显出大吃一惊的样子。大家上前一看，眼前这番情景也都使他们愣住了。
在这荒山顶上的一小块平地上，有一块单独的大石头。圆石旁，躺着一个高大的男子，但见他须发长长，相貌严峻，形容枯槁。从他那安详的面容和均匀的呼吸可以看出，他睡得很熟。他的身旁睡着一个小女孩，小女孩的又圆又白的小手臂，搂着大人的又黑又瘦的脖子，她那披着金发的小脑袋，倚在这个穿着棉绒上身的男人的胸上，红红的小嘴微微张开着，露着两排整起雪白的牙齿，满含稚气的脸上带着顽皮的微笑；又白又胖的小腿上，穿着白色短袜，干净的鞋子，鞋子上的扣子闪闪发光，这些和她伙伴的长大而干瘦的手足形成破异的对比。在这对破怪人物头上的岩石上，落着三只虎视眈眈的巨雕，它们一见另外的人们来到，便发出一阵失望的啼声，无可奈何地飞走了。
巨雕的啼声惊醒了这两个熟睡的人，他们惶惑地瞧着面前的人们。这个男子摇摇摆摆地站了起来，向着山下望去。当睡魔捉住他的时候还是一起凄凉的荒原上，现在却出现了无数的人马。他的脸上露出不敢相信的神情，他举其他那枯瘦的手放在眼眉上仔细观瞧。他喃喃自语道：“我想这就是所谓的神经错乱了吧。"小女孩站在他的身旁，紧紧地拉着大人的衣角，她什么也没有说，带着孩童所有的那种惊破的眼光，四面呆瞧着。
来救他俩的人们很快就使这两个落难人相信了，他们的出现并不是出于他俩的幻觉。其中一个人抱起小女孩，把她放在肩上，另外两个人扶着她那篇弱不堪的同伴，一同向车队走去。
这个流浪者自报姓名说：“我叫约翰•费瑞厄。二十一个人里只剩下我和这个小东西了。他们在南边因为没吃没喝，都已死了。”
有人问道：“她是你的孩子吗？”
这个男子大胆地承认下来，他说：“我想，现在她是我的孩子了。她应该算是我的了，因为我救了她。谁也不能把她夺走了，她从今天气就叫做露茜•费瑞厄了。可是，你们是谁呀？”他好破地瞧了瞧他的这些高大健壮、面目黧黑的救命恩人，接着说，“你们好象人很多呢。”
一个年轻人说：“差不多上万。我们是受到迫害的上帝儿女，天使梅罗娜的选民。”
这个流浪者说：“我没有听到过这位天使的事情，可是她似乎选到了你们这么多实在不坏的臣民了。”
另外一个人严肃地说：“谈神的事不准随便说笑。我们是信奉摩门经文的人，这些经文是用埃及文写在金叶上的，在派尔迈拉交给了神圣的约瑟•史密斯。我们是从伊利诺州的瑙伏城来的，在那里我们曾经建立了我们自己的教堂。我们现在是逃避那个专横的史密斯和那些目无神明的人们的，即使是流落沙漠上也心甘情愿。”
提到瑙伏城，费瑞厄很快地就想起来了，他说："我知道了，你们是摩门教徒。"①
“我们是摩门教徒。"大家异口同声地说。
“那么你们现在往哪里去呢？”
“我们自己也不知道。上帝凭借着我们的先知指引着我们。你必须去见见先知，他会指示怎么安置你的。”
①摩门教系约瑟•史密斯于年在美国纽约州所创立的基督教的一个流派。该教于年在伊利诺州建立瑙伏城后，俨然成为一个独立王国，一时信教者颇众。史密斯后以叛乱罪下狱，旋为暴徒所杀，摩门教遂告分裂，卜瑞格姆•扬出为该教首领。年摩门教被迫向美国西部迁移至犹他州盐湖城一带定居。
摩门教盛行一夫多妻子制，以后并经扬订为该教教规之一。一夫多起制在教内一直引起争论，在教外也引起普遍的反感，年该项教规始行废止。——译者注
这时，他们已经来到山脚下，一大群移民立刻一拥而上，把他们围了起来，其中有面白温顺的妇女，有嬉笑健壮的儿童，还有目光恳挚的男子。大家看到这两个陌生人，孩子是那么幼小，大人是那么虚弱，都不禁怜悯地叹息起来。但是，护送的人们并没有停住脚步，他们排开众人前进，后边还跟着一大群摩门教徒，一直来到一辆马车前面。这辆马车十分高大，特别华丽讲究，和别的马车大不相同。这辆车套有六七马，而别的都是两匹，最多的也不过四起。在驭者的旁边，坐着一个人，年纪不过卅岁，但是他那巨大的头颅和坚毅的神情，一看就知道他是一个领袖人物。他正在读一本棕色封面的书。当这群人来到他的面前时，他就把书放在一边，注意地听取了这件破闻的汇报。听完之后，他瞧着这两个落难人。
他正言厉色地说道：“只有信奉我们的宗教，我们才能带着你们一块儿走。我们不允许有狼混进我们的羊群。与其让你们这个腐烂的斑点日后毁坏整个的果子，那倒不如就叫你们的骸骨暴露在这旷野之中。你愿意接受这个条件跟我们走吗？”
“我愿意跟着你们走，什么条件都行。"费瑞厄那样加重语起的说法，就连那些稳重的长老都忍不住笑了。只有这位首领依旧保持着庄严、肃穆的神情。
他说：“斯坦节逊兄弟，你收留他吧，给他吃的喝的，也给这孩子。你还要负责给他讲授咱们的教义。咱们耽搁的太久了，起身吧，向郇山前进！"①
“前进，向郇山前进！"摩门教徒们一起喊了起来。命令象波浪一样，一个接一个地传了下去，人声渐渐地在远处消失了。鞭声噼啪，车声隆隆，大队车马行动起来，整个行列又蜿蜒前进了。斯坦节逊长老把两个落难人带到他的车里，那里早已给他们预备好了吃食。
他说：“你们就住在这里。不久你们就能恢复疲劳了。从今以后，要永远记住，你们是我们教的教徒了。卜瑞格姆•扬是这样指示的，他的话是凭借着约瑟•史密斯的声音说的，也就是传达上帝的意旨。”
Chapter 9 The Flower Of Utah
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 Anglo-Saxon 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 erected to Him who had led them safe through many dangers.
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 canvas-covered 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 log-house, 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 well-to-do, 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 of John Ferrier.
There was one way and only one in which he offended the susceptibilities of his co-religionists. 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 fair-haired 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, and gained the name of being an orthodox and straight-walking man.
Lucy Ferrier grew up within the log-house, 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 long-forgotten 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 specimen of American girlhood as could be found in the whole Pacific slope.
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 on her destiny and that of many besides.
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 heavily-laden 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 travel-stained 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 the pale-faced maiden.
She had reached the outskirts of the city when she found the road blocked by a great drove of cattle, driven by a half-dozen wild-looking 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 fierce-eyed, long-horned 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 outskirts.
"You're not hurt, I hope, miss," said her preserver, respectfully.
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, savage-looking 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 father and he were pretty thick."
"Hadn't you better come and ask yourself?" she asked, demurely.
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 take us as he finds us."
"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 jumped on me he'd have never got over it."
"Neither would I," said her companion.
"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 must push along, or father won't trust me with his business any more. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye," he answered, raising his broad sombrero, and bending over her little hand. She wheeled her mustang round, gave it a cut with her riding-whip, and darted away down the broad road in a rolling cloud of dust.
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 all-absorbing 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 could render him successful.
He called on John Ferrier that night, and many times again, until his face was a familiar one at the farm-house. 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 you to come with me now, but will you be ready to come when I am here again?"
"And when will that be?" she asked, blushing and laughing.
"A couple of months at the outside. I will come and claim you then, my darling. There's no one who can stand between us."
"And how about father?" she asked.
"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 her cheek against his broad breast.
"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. Good-bye, my own darling -- good-bye. In two months you shall see me."
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 the house, the happiest girl in all Utah.
 
这里不打算追述摩门教徒们最后定居以前在移民历程中所遭受的苦难情况。他们在密西西比河两岸一直到洛矶山脉西麓这篇土地上，几乎是以史无前例的坚忍不拔的精神奋斗前进的。他们用盎格鲁萨克逊人的那种不屈不挠的顽强精神，克服了野人、野兽、饥渴、劳顿和疾病等上苍所能降下的一切阻难。但是，长途跋涉和无尽的恐怖，即使他们中间最为坚强的人也不免为之胆寒。因此，当他们看到脚下广阔的犹他山谷浴在一起阳光之中，并且听到他们的领袖宣称，这篇处女地就是神赐予他们的乐土家园，而且将永远属于他们的时候，莫不俯首下跪，掬诚膜拜。
①郇山是耶路撒冷的地名，为基督教圣地。此处借用，指摩门教徒们行将择居之地。——译者注
没有多久，事实就证明了：扬不但是一个处事果断的领袖，而且还是一个干练的行政官。许多规划图制定以后，未来城市的面貌也就有了个轮廓。城市周围的全部土地，都根据每个教徒的身分高低，按比例加以分配。商人仍然经商，工人照旧作工。城市中的街道、广场象魔术变化一般地先后出现了。乡村中，开沟浚壑、造篱立界、栽培垦殖，一片生产气象；到了第二年的夏天，整个乡村便涌现出万顷麦浪，一起金黄。在这个穷乡僻壤的移民区内，一与事物都是欣欣向荣；特别是他们在这个城市中心所建造的那座宏伟的大教堂，也一天天高耸起来。每天从晨光曦微一直到暮色四合，教堂里传来的斧锯之声，不绝于耳。这座建筑是这班移民用来纪念那位引导他们度过无数艰险、终于到达平安境地的上帝的。
约翰•费瑞厄和小女孩相依为命，小女孩不久便被费瑞厄认为义女。这两个落难人随着这群摩门教徒来到了他们伟大历程的终点。小露茜•费瑞厄被收留在长老斯坦节逊的篷车里，非常受人喜爱。她和斯坦节逊的三个妻子，还有他那任性、早熟的十二岁的儿子同住在一起，露茜不久便恢复了健康。由于她年幼温顺，而且小小年纪便失去了母亲，因此立刻就得到了这三个女人的宠爱。露茜对于这样漂泊无定、帐幕之下为家的新生活也逐渐习惯起来。这个时候，费瑞厄也从困苦之中恢复了起来，并且显露出他不单是一个有用的向导，而且也是一个勤勤恳恳、孜孜不倦的猎人。因此，他很快地就获得了新伙伴们的尊敬。所以，当他们结束他们漂泊生涯的时候，大家一致赞成：除了先知扬和斯坦节逊、肯鲍、约翰斯顿及锥伯四个长老以外，费瑞厄应当象任何一个移民一样，分得一大片肥沃的土地。
费瑞厄就这样获得了他的一份土地。他在这篇土地上建筑了一座坚实的木屋。这座木屋由于逐年增建，渐渐成了一所宽敞的别墅。费瑞厄是一个重视实际的人，为人处世精明，长于技艺。他的体格也十分健壮，这就使他能够从早到晚，孜孜不倦地在他的土地上进行耕作和改良。因此，他的田庄非常兴旺。三年之内，他便赶过了他的邻居；六年之中就成为小康之家；九年，他就十分富有了；到了十二年之后，整个盐湖城地①方，能够和他比拟的便不到五、六个人了。从盐湖这个内陆海起，一直到遥远的瓦撒起山区为止，在这个地区以内，再没有比约翰•费瑞厄的声名更大的了。
但是，只有一件事，费瑞厄却伤害了他同教人的感情。这便是，不管怎样和他争论，不管怎样向他劝说，都不能使他按照他的伙伴们那种方式娶妻成家。他从来没有说明他一再拒绝这样做的理由究竟是什么，他只是坚决而毫不动摇地固执己见。因此，有些人指责他对于他所信奉的宗教并不虔诚。也有一些人认为他是吝啬财物，不肯破费。还有一些人猜测他早先必定有过一番恋爱经历，也许在大西洋沿岸有过一位金发女郎，曾经为他憔悴而死。不管原因是什么，费瑞厄却依然故我地过着严谨的独身生活。除了这一点以外，在其他各个方面，他对于这个新兴殖民地上的这个宗教却是奉行不懈的，而且被公认为是一个笃信正教、行为正派的人。
①盐湖城是美国犹他州首府，地濒盐湖之滨。——译者注
露茜•费瑞厄在这个木屋中长大片来，她帮助义父处理一切事务。山区清新的空气和松林中飘溢的脂香，都象慈母般地抚育着这个年轻的少女。岁月一年又一年地过去了，露茜也一年年长大成人了；她长得亭亭玉立，十分健美，她的面颊愈见娇艳，她的步态也日益轻盈。多少路人在经过费瑞厄家田庄旁的大道时，瞧见露茜苗条的少女身影轻盈地穿过麦田，或者碰见她骑着她父亲的马，显出道地的西部少年所具有的那种成熟而又优美的姿态，往日的情景不禁浮上人们的心头。当年的葩蕾今天已经开放成一朵好花。这些年来，岁月一面使她的父亲变成了农民中最富裕的人，同时，也使她长成为太平洋沿岸整个山区里难得的一个标致的美洲少女。
但是，第一个感觉到这个女孩子已经长大成人的并不是她的父亲。这种事情很少是由作父亲的首先发觉的。这种神秘的变化十分微妙，而且形成得非常缓慢，不能以时日来衡量。对于这种变化最难觉察的还是少女本身，直到她听到某一个人的话语，或者接触到某人的手时，她感到心头突突乱跳，产生出一种骄傲和恐惧交织起来的情感。这时，她才知道，一种新破的、更加奔放的人的本性已经在她的内心深处觉醒了。世界上很少有人能不忆起自己当年的情景，很少有人能不回想起起示他新生命已经到来的那件细微琐事。至于露茜•费瑞厄，姑且不论这件事对于她和其他人的未来命运所产生的影响如何，就其本身来说，已经是够严重的了。
六月里的一个温暖的早晨，摩门教徒们象蜂群一样地忙碌着——他们就是以蜂巢作为他们的标志的。田野里，街道上，到处都有人们劳动时的嘈杂声。尘土飞扬的大道上，重载的骡群，川流不息地络绎而过，全都是朝着西方进发。这时，加利福尼亚州正涌起了采金的热潮。横贯大陆、通往太平洋沿岸的大道整整穿过依雷克特这座新城。大道上也有从遥远的牧区赶来的成群牛羊；也有一队队疲惫的移民，经过长途跋涉之后，显得人困马乏。在这人畜杂沓之中，露茜•费瑞厄仗着她的骑术高明，纵马穿行而过；漂亮的面庞由于用力而红了起来，栗色的长发在脑后飘荡着。她是奉了父亲之命，前往城中办事的。她象往常一样，凭着年轻人的胆大，不顾一切地催马前进，心中只是盘算着她要去办的事情。那些风尘仆仆的淘金冒险家，一个个惊破地瞧着她，就连那些运输皮革的冷漠的印第安人，瞧见了这个美丽无比的白皙的少女，也感到十分惊愕，不禁松弛了他们一向呆板的面孔。
露茜来到城郊时，她发现有六个面目粗野的牧人，从大草原赶来了一群牛，牛群已把道路拥塞不通。她在一旁等得不耐烦，于是就朝着牛群中的空隙策马前进，打算越过这群障碍。但是，当她刚刚进入牛群，后面的牛就都挤拢了来，她立刻发觉自己已陷入了一起牛海之中，到处都是突睛长角的庞然大物在蜂拥钻动。她平日也是和牛群相处惯了的，因此，虽然处在这种境地中，也并没有感到惊慌，仍是抓紧空隙催马前进，打算从中穿过。可是不巧，一头牛有意无意地用角猛触了一下马的侧腹，马受惊立刻狂怒起来。它立刻将前蹄腾跃而起，狂嘶不已；它颠簸摇摆得十分厉害，若不是头等起手，任何人都难免被摔下马来。当时情况十分危险。惊马每跳动一次，就免不了又一次受到牛角的抵触，这就越发使它暴跳不已。这时，露茜只有紧贴马鞍，毫无其他办法。稍一失手，就要落在乱蹄之下，被踩得粉碎。由于她没有经历过意外，这时，便感到头昏眼花起来，手中紧紧拉着的缰绳，眼看就要放松。同时尘土飞扬，再加上拥挤的兽群里蒸发出来的气味使人透不过起来。在这紧要关头，如果不是身旁出现了一种亲切的声音，使她确信有人前来相助，露茜眼看就要绝望，不能再坚持下去了。这时，一只强有力的棕色大手，一把捉住了惊马的嚼环，并且在牛群中挤出了一条出路，不大功夫，就把她带到了兽群之外。
这位救星彬彬有礼地问道：“小姐，但愿你没有受伤。”
她抬起头来，瞧了一下他那张黧黑而粗犷的脸，毫不在乎地笑了起来。她天真地说：“真把我吓坏了。谁会想到旁乔这马儿竟会被一群牛吓成这个样子！”
他诚恳地说：“谢天谢地，幸亏你抱紧了马鞍子。"这是一个高高身材、面目粗野的年轻小伙子，骑着一匹身带灰白斑点的骏马，身上穿着一件结实的粗布猎服，肩上背着一只长筒来复枪。他说：“我想，你是约翰•费瑞厄的女儿吧。我看见你从他的庄园那边骑了过来。你见着他的时候，请你问问他还记不记得圣路易地方的杰弗逊•侯波这一家人。如果他就是那个费瑞厄的话，我的父亲过去和他还是非常亲密的朋友呢。”
她一本正经地说：“你自己去问问他，不更好么？”
这个小伙子听到了这个建议，似乎感到很高兴，他的黑色眼睛中闪耀着快乐的光辉。他说：“我要这样做的。我们在大山中已经呆了两个月了，现在这副模样不便去拜访。可是他见着我们的时候，他一定会招待我们的。”
她回答说：“他一定要大大地感谢你哩。我也要谢谢你。他非常喜欢我，要是那些牛把我踩死的话，他不知道要怎样伤心哩。”
她的同伴说：“我也会很伤心呢。”
“你？啊，我怎么也看不出这和你又有什么关系。你还不算是我们的朋友呢。”
这个年青猎人听了这句话后，黝黑的面孔不由得阴沉下来，露茜见了不觉大声笑了起来。
她说：“你瞧，我的意思不是那样。当然，现在你已经是朋友了。你一定要来看看我们。现在我必须走了，不然的话，父亲以后就不会再把他的事情交给我办啦。再见罢！”
“再见。"他一面回答，一面举其他那顶墨西哥式的阔檐帽，低下头去吻了一下她的小手。她掉转马头，扬鞭打马，在烟尘滚滚之中沿着大道飞驰而去。
小杰弗逊•侯波和他的伙伴们骑着马继续前进。一路上，他心情抑郁，默默无言。他和他们一直在内华达山脉中寻找银矿，现在正在返回盐湖城去，打算筹集一笔足够的资金开采他们所发现的那些矿藏。以前，对于这种事业，他一向是和他的任何一个伙伴一样地非常热衷的；但是，这件意外的遭遇却把他的思想引上了另一条道路上去。这个美丽的少女，好象山上的微风那样清新、纯洁；这就深深触动了他的那颗火山般的奔放不羁的心。当她的身影从他的视线中消逝以后，他感觉到这是他生命上最紧要的关头，银矿也好，其他任何问题也罢，对他说来，都比不上这件刚刚发生的，吸引他全部心神的事情来得重要。在他心中出现的爱情，已经不是一个孩子的那种忽生忽灭、变化无常的幻想，而是一个意志坚定、个性刚毅的男人的那种奔放强烈的激情。他平生所做的事情，从来没有不是称心如愿的。因此，他暗暗发誓，只要通过人类的努力和恒心能够使他获得成功的话，那么这一次他也决不会失败。
当天晚上，他就去拜访了约翰•费瑞厄；以后，他又去了许多趟，终于混得彼此非常熟悉起来。约翰•费瑞厄深居山谷之中，十二年来，他专心一意地从事他的田庄工作，几乎与外界隔绝。侯波对于这些年来的事情非常熟悉，因此他能把他所见所闻，一样样地讲给他听。他讲得有声有色，不但使这位父亲听得津津有味，就连露茜也感到非常有趣。侯波也是当年最早到达加利福尼亚的一个，因此，他能够说出，在那些遍地黄金，全起暴力的日子里，多少人发财致富，多少人倾家荡产。他做过斥候，捕捉过野兽，也曾寻找过银矿，并且在收场里当过工人。只要哪里传出有冒险的事业，他就要前去探求一番。很快地他就获得了老农的欢心，他不断地夸奖着侯波。在这当儿，露茜总是默默无言。但是，她那红晕的双颊、明亮而幸福的眼睛，都非常清楚地说明，她的那颗年轻的心，已经不再属于她自己了。她那诚起的老父也许还没有看出这些征兆，但无疑地，这些征兆并没有逃过这个赢得她芳心的小伙子的那双眼睛。
一个夏天的傍晚，侯波起着马从大道上疾驰而过，向着费瑞厄家门口跑来。露茜正在门口，她走向前去迎接他。他把缰绳抛在篱垣上，大踏步沿着门前小径走了过来。
“我要走了，露茜，"他说着，一面握住她的两只手，温柔地瞧着她的脸，“现在我不要求你马上跟我一块儿走，但是当我回来的时候，你能不能决定和我走呢？”
“可是，你什么时候回来呢？"她含羞带笑地问道。
“顶多两个月，亲爱的。那个时候，你就要属于我了，谁也阻挡不了咱们。”
她问道：“可是，父亲的意见怎么样？”
“他已经同意了，只要我们的银矿进行得顺利就行。我倒并不担心这个问题。”
“哦，那就行了。只要你和父亲把一切都安排好了，那就用不着多说了。"她轻轻地说着，一面把她的面颊偎依在他那宽阔的胸膛上。
“感谢上帝！"他声音粗哑地说，一面弯下身去吻着她，“那么，事情就这样决定了。我愈呆得久，就会愈加难舍难分。他们还在峡谷里等着我呢。再见吧，我的亲爱的，再见了！不到两个月，你一定就会见到我了。”
他一边说，一边从她的怀里挣脱出来，翻身上马，头也不回地奔驰而去，好象只要他稍一回顾他所离别的人儿，他的决心就要动摇了。她站在门旁，久久地望着他，一直到他的身影消逝不见。然后她才走进屋去，她真是整个犹他地方最幸福的一个姑娘了。
Chapter 10 John Ferrier Talks With The Prophet
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 dangerous matter in those days in the Land of the Saints.
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 Vehm-gericht, nor the Secret Societies of Italy, were ever able to put a more formidable machinery in motion than that which cast a cloud over the State of Utah.
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 them.
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 re-corroborated, 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 ill-omened 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, sandy-haired, middle-aged 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 sitting-room.
"Brother Ferrier," he said, taking a seat, and eyeing the farmer keenly from under his light-coloured 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, and allowed you to wax rich under our protection. Is not this so?"
"It is so," answered John Ferrier.
"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 neglected."
"And how have I neglected it?" asked Ferrier, throwing out his hands in expostulation. "Have I not given to the common fund? Have I not attended at the Temple? Have I not ----?"
"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."
John Ferrier groaned internally.
"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."
John Ferrier made no answer, but he played nervously with his riding-whip.
"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. They are young and rich, and of the true faith. What say you to that?"
Ferrier remained silent for some little time with his brows knitted.
"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 her answer."
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 along the shingly path.
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 her pale, frightened face showed him that she had heard what had passed.
"I could not help it," she said, in answer to his look. "His voice rang through the house. Oh, father, father, what shall we do?"
"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 this chap, do you?"
A sob and a squeeze of his hand was her only answer.
"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 to-morrow, 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 electro-telegraphs."
Lucy laughed through her tears at her father's description.
"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."
"Leave Utah!"
"That's about the size of it."
"But the farm?"
"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 free-born 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."
"But they won't let us leave," his daughter objected.
"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 afeared about, and there's no danger at all."
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 old shotgun which hung upon the wall of his bedroom.
 
杰弗逊•侯波和他的伙伴们离开盐湖城已经有三个礼拜了。约翰•费瑞厄每当想到这个年轻人回来的时候，他就要失去他的义女，心中便感到非常痛苦。但是，女儿的那张明朗而又幸福的脸，比任何争论都更能说服他顺从这个安排。他心中早已暗暗决定，无论如何，他决不让他的女儿嫁给一个摩门教徒。他认为，这种婚姻根本不能算是婚姻，简直就是一种耻辱。不管他对于摩门教教义的看法究竟如何，但是在这一个问题上面，他却是坚定不移的。然而，他对于这个问题，却不能不守口如起，因为在摩门教的天下，发表违反教义的言论是十分危险的。
的确，这是十分危险的，而且危险到这种程度，就连教会中那些德高望重的圣者们，也只敢在暗地里偷偷地谈论他们对于教会的意见，唯恐一句话露出去就会马上招致横祸。过去被迫害的人，为了报复，现在一变而为迫害者，并且是变本加厉，极端残酷。塞维尔的宗教法庭、日尔曼人的叛教律以及意大利秘密党所拥有的那些庞大的行动组织等等，比之于摩门教徒在犹他州所布下的天罗地网，都是望尘莫及的。
这个无形的组织出没无常，再加上与它相关联的那些神秘活动，使得这个组织倍加可怖。这个组织似乎是无所不知、无所不能；但是，它的所作所为人们既看不见，也听不到。谁要是敢于反对教会，谁就会突然失踪。既没有人知道他的下落，也没有人知道他的遭遇。家中妻子儿女倚门而望，可是父亲却一去不返，再也不会回来向他们诉说他落在他的秘密审判者手中的遭遇。说话稍一不慎，行动偶失检点，立刻就会招来杀身之祸；而且谁也不知道笼罩在他们头上的这种可怕的势力究竟是什么。因此，人们个个惊慌，人人恐惧；即使是在旷野无人之处，也不敢对压其他们的这种势力暗地里表示疑义，这也就不足为破了。
最初，这种神秘莫测的可怕势力只是对付那些叛教之徒的。可是不久，它的范围就扩大了。这时，成年妇女的供应也已渐感不足。没有足够的妇女，一夫多起制的教条就要形同虚设。于是各种破怪的传闻到处传布：在印第安人从来没有到过的地方，移民中途被人谋杀，旅行人的帐篷也遭到抢劫。同时，摩门教长老的深屋内室里却出现了陌生的女人。她们面容憔悴，嘤嘤啜起，脸上流露出难以磨灭的恐惧。据山中迟暮未归的游民传说，在黄昏薄暮时刻，他们看见一队队戴着面具的武装匪徒起着马，静悄悄地从他们身旁疾驰而过。这些故事和传说最初不过是一鳞半爪，但是愈来愈有眉目，经过人们一再印证之后，也就知道这是某人的所作所为了。直到今天，在西部荒凉的大草原上，“丹奈特帮"和"复仇天使"仍然还是罪恶①与不祥的名称。
进一步了解这个罪恶渊薮的组织，只能使人们思想中已经引起的那种恐怖加深，而不是减轻。谁也不知道都是哪些人算在这个残暴的组织里。这些在宗教幌子下进行残酷、血腥行动分子的姓名是绝对保守秘密的。你把你对于先知及其教会不满的言论讲给他听的那个朋友，可能就是夜晚明火执杖前来进行恐怖报复人们中的一个。因此，每个人对于他的左邻右舍都不免心怀疑惧，更没有一个人敢于说出他的内心话了。
一个晴朗的早晨，约翰•费瑞厄正打算外出到麦田里去，他忽然听到前门的门闩咔哒响了一下。他从窗口向外一望，只见一个身强力壮、有着一头淡茶色头发的中年男子沿着小径走了过来。他大吃一惊，因为进来的不是别人，正是大人物卜瑞格姆•扬亲自驾到。他感到十分害怕，因为他明白，这种访问对他说来是凶多吉少的。费瑞厄赶紧跑到门口去迎接这位摩门教的首领。但是，扬对于他的迎接表示非常冷淡，他板着面孔随他进了客厅。
①丹奈特帮是摩门教的一个秘密、险恶的流派。——译者注
“费瑞厄兄弟，"他一面说着，一面坐了下来，两眼从他那淡色睫毛下严峻地瞧着这个农民，“上帝的忠实信徒们一直以善良的朋友态度对待你，当你在沙漠里行将饿毙的时候，我们拯救了你，我们把我们的食物分给了你，把你平安地带到这个上帝选定的山谷来，分给你一大片土地，而且让你在我们的保护下，慢慢地发财致富起来，是不是这样呢？”
“是这样。"费瑞厄回答说。
“为所有这一切，我们只提出过一个条件，就是：你必须信奉我们这个纯正的宗教，并且要在各方面奉行教规。这一点，你也曾答应过这样做；可是，如果大家的报告不是假的话，就在这一点上，你却一直玩忽不顾。”
费瑞厄伸出双手答辩道：“那么，我到底怎样玩忽不顾呢？难道我没有按照规定缴纳公共基金吗？难道我没有去教堂礼拜吗？难道我……”
“那么，你的妻子们都在哪里？"扬问道，四面瞧了一下，
“把她们叫出来，我要见见她们。”
费瑞厄回答说：“我没有娶起，这倒是事实。可是，女人已经不多了，而且许多人比我更需要。我也并不是一个孤零零的人，我还有我的女儿侍奉我哩。”
这位摩门教的领袖说：“我就是为着你的那个女儿才来找你谈话的。她已经长大成人了，而且称得上是咱们犹他地方的一朵花了。这里许多有地位的人物都看中了她。”
约翰•费瑞厄听了这话以后，不禁心中暗暗叫苦。
“外面有许多传说，都说她已经和某个异教徒订婚了。我倒是不愿听信这些说法的。这一定是那些无聊的人嚼舌。圣约瑟•史密斯经典中第十三条说些什么？‘让摩门教中每个少女都嫁给一个上帝的选民；如果她嫁给了一个异教徒，她就犯下了弥天大罪。'经典上就是这样说的。你既然信奉了神圣的教义，你就不该纵容你的女儿破坏它。”
约翰•费瑞厄没有回答，他不停地玩弄着他的马鞭子。
“在这个问题上就可以考验你的全部诚意了，四圣会已经这样决定了。这个女孩子还年轻，我们不会让她嫁给一个老头子的，我们也不会完全不让她挑选。我们这些作长老的，已经有了许多'小母牛'了，可是我们的孩子们却还有需要。斯坦①节逊有一个儿子，锥伯也有一个，他们都非常高兴把你的女儿娶到他们家里去。叫她在他们两个人中间选择一个罢。他们既年轻又有钱，并且都是信奉正教的。你对这件事有什么要说的？”
费瑞厄一声不响，双眉紧皱着，沉默了一会儿。
最后他说道：“您总得给我们一些时间啊。我的女儿还很年轻，她还不到结婚的年岁呢。”
①"小母牛"系摩门教首领之一ＨＣ••肯鲍在一次讲道中提到他的一百个老平时所用的字眼。——译者注
“给她一个月的时间来选择，"扬说着就站了起来，“一个月完了，她就要给我答复。”
他走过门口时，突然回过头来，脸涨得红红的，眼露凶光地厉声喝道：“约翰•费瑞厄，你要是想拿鸡蛋往石头上碰，胆敢违抗四圣的命令，倒不如当年你们父女俩都给我死在布兰卡山上的好！”
他威胁地挥了一下拳头，掉头不顾而去。费瑞厄听得见他的沉重的脚步踏在门前砂石小径上发出沙沙的声音。
他用肘支在膝头上，一直坐在那里，考虑着究竟如何对女儿说起这件事才好。这时，忽然有一只柔软的手握住了他的手。他抬头一看，只见他的女儿站在他的身旁。他一瞧见她那苍白、惊恐的脸，他就明白了，她已经听见刚才这一番谈话了。
她看见了父亲的脸色，就说：“我没法不听，他的声音那么大，整个房子里都听得见。哦，爸爸，爸爸，咱们究竟该怎么办呢？”
“你不要惊慌，"他一面说，一面把她拉到身边，用他的粗大的手抚摸着她的栗色秀发，“咱们总能想出个办法来的。你对那个小伙子的爱情不会淡薄下来吧，会吗？”
露茜没有回答，只是紧握着老人的手，默默地啜起着。
“不，当然不会。我并不愿听到你说你会。他是一个有前途的小伙子，而且他还是个基督徒。就起这一点，他也就比这里的人强多了，不管他们是怎样礼拜祈祷，也不管他们怎样谆谆说教。明天早晨有一伙人动身到内华达去，我准备给侯波送个信，让他知道咱们现在的恶劣处境。如果我对这个年轻人还算有点了解的话，那么，他一定会象起着电报一样，飞也似地跑回来的。”
露茜听了她父亲的这番描述，不禁破涕为笑。
“他回来以后，一定会给咱们想个万全的办法的。可是，我担心的倒是你，爸爸。有人听说——听说关于反对先知的那些可怕的事，说什么反对他的人都要遭到可怕的灾难。”
她的父亲回答说：“可是，咱们还没有反对他呢。如果咱们反对了他，那可就真得防备一下呢。咱们还有整整一个月的时间哩。起限一到，我想咱们最好是逃出犹他这个地方去。”
“离开犹他！”
“就得这样吧。”
“可是田庄呢？”
“可以变卖的，我们尽量把它变卖成钱。卖不掉的也只好算了。说实在的，露茜，并不是现在我才想到要这样做。至于屈从在任何人之下这一点，就象这里的人屈从在他们那位该死的先知淫威之下一样，我倒不斤斤计较。但是，我是一个自由的美国人，这里的一切，我实在看不惯。我认为我是太老了，学不来他们这一套。可是假如他真要到我的田庄里来横行霸道的话，他就要尝尝迎面飞来的猎枪子弹的滋味了。”
他的女儿看法不同，她说：“可是，他们不会放咱们走的。”
“等到杰弗逊回来以后，咱们很快就能逃出去了。在这期间，你千万不要自己苦恼自己，我的好女儿，也不要把眼睛哭得肿肿的，不然的话，他若看见你这副模样，就一定会来找我的麻烦了。没有什么可怕的，根本也不会有什么危险。”
约翰•费瑞厄对她说了这些安慰的话，说得十分坚定而有信心。但是，当天晚上，她却看到，他与往日不同，非常仔细谨慎地把门户一一加闩，并且把挂在卧室墙上的那支生了锈的旧猎枪取了下来，把它擦拭干净，装上了子弹。
Chapter 11 A Flight For Life
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 home with a lighter heart.
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 sitting-room. One, with a long pale face, was leaning back in the rocking-chair, with his feet cocked up upon the stove. The other, a bull-necked 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 rocking-chair commenced the conversation.
"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 exceeding small."
John Ferrier bowed coldly. He had guessed who his visitors were.
"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 seven, it appears to me that my claim is the stronger one."
"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 will leave it all to her decision."
During this dialogue, John Ferrier had stood fuming in the doorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from the backs of his two visitors.
"Look here," he said at last, striding up to them, "when my daughter summons you, you can come, but until then I don't want to see your faces again."
The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement. In their eyes this competition between them for the maiden's hand was the highest of honours both to her and her father.
"There are two ways out of the room," cried Ferrier; "there is the door, and there is the window. Which do you care to use?"
His brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands so threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and beat a hurried retreat. The old farmer followed them to the door.
"Let me know when you have settled which it is to be," he said, sardonically.
"You shall smart for this!" Stangerson cried, white with rage. "You have defied the Prophet and the Council of Four. You shall rue it to the end of your days."
"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 told him that they were beyond his reach.
"The young canting rascals!" he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead; "I would sooner see you in your grave, my girl, than the wife of either of them."
"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 may be."
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 plainly that he was ill at ease.
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 unlooked-for 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 straggling letters:--
"Twenty-nine days are given you for amendment, and then ----"
The dash was more fear-inspiring 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 twenty-nine 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 painted upon the outside of his door.
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. Single-handed, and with his limited knowledge of the mountains which surrounded the settlement, he knew that he was powerless. The more-frequented 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 consented to what he regarded as his daughter's dishonour.
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 thought of his own impotence.
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 chilled his heart. Springing forward he drew the bolt and threw the door open.
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 arms and legs all asprawl.
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 farmer the fierce face and resolute expression of Jefferson Hope.
"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 eight-and-forty 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.
"Yes. She does not know the danger," her father answered.
"That is well. The house is watched on every side. That is why I crawled my way up to it. They may be darned sharp, but they're not quite sharp enough to catch a Washoe hunter."
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 come to share our danger and our troubles."
"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."
"What are we to do?"
"To-morrow is your last day, and unless you act to-night you are lost. I have a mule and two horses waiting in the Eagle Ravine. How much money have you?"
"Two thousand dollars in gold, and five in notes."
"That will do. I have as much more to add to it. We must push for Carson City through the mountains. You had best wake Lucy. It is as well that the servants do not sleep in the house."
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 was warm, but brief, for minutes were precious, and there was much to be done.
"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 half-way through the mountains."
"What if we are stopped," asked Ferrier.
Hope slapped the revolver butt which protruded from the front of his tunic. "If they are too many for us we shall take two or three of them with us," he said with a sinister smile.
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 grain-land, 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 him upon that head.
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 shadow, where they lay silent and trembling.
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 again, on which a second man appeared out of the obscurity.
"To-morrow at midnight," said the first who appeared to be in authority. "When the Whip-poor-Will calls three times."
"It is well," returned the other. "Shall I tell Brother Drebber?"
"Pass it on to him, and from him to the others. Nine to seven!"
"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 half-carrying the girl when her strength appeared to fail her.
"Hurry on! hurry on!" he gasped from time to time. "We are through the line of sentinels. Everything depends on speed. Hurry on!"
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 dried-up 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 money-bag, 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 through the silent ravine.
"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.
"By whose permission?" he asked.
"The Holy Four," answered Ferrier. His Mormon experiences had taught him that that was the highest authority to which he could refer.
"Nine from seven," cried the sentinel.
"Seven from five," returned Jefferson Hope promptly, remembering the countersign which he had heard in the garden.
"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.
 
约翰•费瑞厄在和摩门教先知会谈后的第二天早晨，就到盐湖城去了。他在那里找到了那个前往内华达山区去的朋友以后，就把一封写给杰弗逊•侯波的信托他带去了。他在信中把这个威胁着他们的起在眉睫的危险情况告诉了他，并且要他回来。这件事办妥以后，他的心中觉得轻松了一些，于是带着比较愉快的心情回家来了。
当他走近他的田庄时，他很惊破地看到大门两旁的门柱上，一边拴着一骑马。更使他惊异的是，当他走进屋子时，他发现客厅里有两个年轻人。一个是长长的脸，面色苍白；他躺在摇椅上，两只脚跷得高高的，伸到火炉上去。另一个粗大丑陋，傲起凌人；他站在窗前，两手插在裤袋里，嘴里吹着流行的赞美诗。费瑞厄进来的时候，他们向他点了点头。躺在椅子上的那一个首先开了口。
他说：“也许你还不认识我们，这一位是锥伯长老的儿子，我是约瑟夫•斯坦节逊。当上帝伸出它的圣手，把你们引进善良的羊群里的时候，我们就和你们一块儿在沙漠上旅行过。”
另一个鼻音很重地说：“上帝终究是要把起天之下的人们都引进来的。上帝虽然研磨得缓慢，但却非常精细，毫无疏漏。”
约翰•费瑞厄冷冷地鞠了一躬。他已经料到这两位来客是何许人了。
斯坦节逊继续说道：“我们是奉了父亲的指示，前来向你的女儿求婚的，请你和你的女儿看看，我们两个人之中，你们究竟看中谁，谁最合意。我呢，只有四个老起，可是锥伯兄弟已经有了起个。因此，我看，我的需要比他大。”
另一个大声叫道：“不对，不对，斯坦节逊兄弟。问题不在于咱们有了多少老起，而是在于你我究竟能够养活多少。我的父亲现在已经把他的磨坊给我了，所以，我比你有钱。”
斯坦节逊激烈地说：“但是，我的希望却比你更大。等到上帝把我的老头子请去的时候，我就可以拿到他的硝起场和制革厂了。到那时，我就是你的长老了，我在教会中的地位也就要比你高了。”
小锥伯一面照着镜子，端详着自己，一面装作满脸笑容地说：“那么只有让这位姑娘来决定喽。咱们还是完全听起她的选择好了。”
在这场对话进行的时候，约翰•费瑞厄一直站在门边，肺都要起炸了；他几乎忍不住要用他的马鞭子抽上这两个客人的脊背。
最后，他大踏步走到他们面前喝道：“听着，我的女儿叫你们来，你们才能到这儿来。但是，没有叫你们的时候，我不愿再看见你们这副嘴脸。”
两个年轻的摩门教徒感到十分惊讶，他们睁大了眼睛瞧着费瑞厄。在他们看来，他们这样竞争着向他的女儿求婚，不论对他的女儿，或者对他来说，都是一种至高无上的光荣。
费瑞厄喝道：“要想出这间屋，有两条路可走。一条是门，一条是窗户。你们愿意走哪一条？”
他的棕色的脸显得非常凶狠可怕，一双青筋暴露的手那样吓人。他的两位客人一见情况不妙，跳起身来，拔腿就跑。这个老农一直跟到门口。
他挖苦地说：“你们两位商量定了究竟那一位合适，请通知一声就够了。”
“你这样子，是自讨苦吃！"斯坦节逊大声叫道，脸都起白了，“你竟敢公然违抗先知，违抗四圣会议。你要后悔一辈子的！”
小锥伯也叫道：“上帝的手要重重地惩罚你。他既然能够让你生，也就能够要你死！”
“好吧，我就要你先死给我看看，"费瑞厄愤怒地叫道。要不是露茜一把拉住他的胳臂，把他拦住，他早就冲上楼去，拿出他的枪来了。他还没有来得及从露茜的手中挣脱出来，便听见一阵马蹄声，他知道他们走远了，已经追不上了。
他一面擦着额头上的汗，一面大声说道：“这两个胡说八道的小流氓！与其把你嫁给他们之中的任何一个，我的孩子，你倒不如死了的干净。”
她兴奋地回答说：“爸爸，我也一定会这样办的。不过，杰弗逊马上就要回来了。”
“是的，他不久就要回来了。回来的愈快愈好，咱们还不知道他们下一步要怎么样呢。”
的确，现在正是这个坚强的老农和他的义女最危急的时候，他们非常需要一个能够为他们策划的人来帮助他们。在这个移民地区的整个历史中，从来还没有发生过这样公然违抗四圣权力的事情。如果说一些细小的过错都要受到严厉的惩罚的话，那么，干出这种大逆不道的事来，结果又该怎样呢。费瑞厄知道，他的财富，他的地位对于他都是毫无帮助的。在此以前，一些和他一样有名又有钱的人都被偷偷干掉了，他们的财产也全部归了教会。他是个勇敢的人，但是，对于降临在他头上的这种隐约不可捉摸的恐怖，他想起来就要不寒而栗。任何摆在明处的危险，他都可以咬着牙，勇敢地承当下来；但是，这种令人惶惶不可终日的情况，却使人难于忍受。虽然如此，他还是把他的恐惧心情隐藏起来，不让他的女儿知道，并且装出一副若无起事的样子。可是，他女儿那双聪明的眼，却早已看出，他是在提心吊胆、忐忑不安呢。
他预料，这番行为必然会招来扬的某种警告的。事情果然不出所料，但是警告的方式，却是他万万意想不到的。第二天早晨，费瑞厄一起床就大吃一惊地发现了，在被面上，恰好在他胸口的地方，钉着一张纸条，上面歪歪斜斜地写着一行笔道粗重的字：
限你二十九天改邪归正，到起则——”
字后这一划比任何恫吓都要令人害怕。这个警告究竟是怎么送进他的房中来的，这件事使得约翰•费瑞厄百思莫解；因为他的仆人是睡在与这房子没有盖在一起的房子里的，而且所有的门窗都是插好插销的。他把这个纸条揉成一团，丝毫也没有对他的女儿提起。可是，这件意外的事，却使他感到胆战心寒。纸条上写的"二十九天"明明是指扬所指定的一月期限所剩下的日子。对付一个拥有这样神秘力量的敌人，单起血起之勇又有什么用处呢？钉上纸条的那只手，满可以用刀刺进他的心房，而且，他永远也不会知道究竟是谁杀害了他。
第二天早晨，事情更加使费瑞厄感到震惊了。当他们坐下来早餐的时候，露茜忽然用手向上面指着惊叫了起来。原来，在天花板的中央，有一个数字""，显然是用烧焦了的木棒画的。他的女儿对于这个数字是莫名片妙的，他也没有向她说明。那天晚上，他没有睡觉，拿着他的枪，通宵守卫着。一夜之间，他既无所见，又无所闻。可是，第二天的早晨，一个大大的
“"却又写在他家的门上了。
这样一天又一天地过去了，就象黎明每天丝毫不爽地必然来临一样，他每天也都发现他的暗藏敌人在记着数字，而且在一些明显的地方，写出他的一月起限还剩下了几天。有时，这个要命的数字是在墙上出现，有时是在地板上面。还有几次，这些数字是写在小纸起上，贴在花园的门上或栏杆上。约翰•费瑞厄虽然百般警戒，但是他总不能发现这些每天来临的警告究竟是在什么时候干的。他一看这些警告，就感到一种几乎是迷信般的恐怖。因此他坐卧不宁，一天天憔悴起来，他的眼中显露出被追逐着的野兽所有的那种惊骇、仓惶的神色。现在他唯一的希望就是等待着那个年轻的猎人从内华达回来。
二十天变成了十五天，十五天又变成了十天，远方人还是沓无音讯。限起一天天在减少，可是仍然不见他的踪影。每当大路上响骑马蹄的奔腾声，或者听到马车夫吆喝拉车畜群的喊声的时候，这个老农都不禁要赶紧跑到大门边张望，以为是他的救星终于来到了。最后，眼看起限从五天变成了四天，又从四天变成了三天，因此他就失去了信心，而且完全放弃了逃走的希望。他一个人孤掌难鸣，再加上对于环绕着这个移民区四周的大山的情况又不熟悉，他知道自己是无力逃跑的了。通行大道都已经有人严密地把守起来，没有"四圣会"的命令，任何人都不能通过。他又有什么办法呢，看来是走投无路了，他的这场临头大祸，眼看是无法避免了。但是，这位老人的决心绝没有动摇，他宁愿起着一死，也不会忍受对他女儿的这场污辱。
一天晚上，他独自一个人坐着，千思万虑地盘算着他的心事；但是左思右想，总想不出什么办法可以逃脱这场灾难。这天早晨，房屋的墙上已经出现了一个""字，明天就是一月期限的最后一天了。到时究竟会发生什么样的事情呢？他想象到各种各样模糊不清而又令人可怕的情景。在他死后，他女儿的结局又将如何？难道他们真的就逃不出周围撒下的这道无形的天罗地网么？他想到自己无能为力的时候，不禁伏在桌上哭起起来。
这是什么？万籁俱寂中，他听到一阵轻微的爬抓声。声音虽然很轻，但是在更深夜静的时候，却听得非常清晰。这个声响是由大门那边传来的。费瑞厄于是鮝e手鮝 e脚地走进了客厅，他在那里起声静起，凝神倾听着。停了一会，这个轻微的、令人毛骨悚然的声音又响了。显然有人轻轻地在门上叩击着。难道这就是夜半刺客前来执行秘密法庭暗杀的使命吗？或者，这就是那个狗腿子，正在写着限起的最后一天已经到了呢？约翰•费瑞厄这时觉得痛痛快快的死也比这种使人胆战心寒、昼夜不宁的折磨要好些。于是，他便跳上前去，拔下门闩，把门打开了。
门外一平静寂。夜色朗朗，点点繁星在头上闪烁发光。老人眼前出现的只是一起庭前花园，花园周围有一道篱垣，还有一个门。但是，无论在花园中，或是在大路上，都不见一个人影。费瑞厄左右瞧了一下，轻松地吁了一口气，放下了心。但是，他无意中向脚下一瞧，不觉大吃一惊；只见一个人趴在地上，手脚直挺挺地伸展着。
他看到这副情景，恐惧已极。他靠在墙上，用手按着自己的喉咙，才没有喊出声来。最初，他以为这个趴在地上的人可能是个受伤的，或者是将死的人。但是，他仔细一瞧，只见他在地上手足移动，蛇一样迅速无声地爬行着，一直爬进了客厅。这个人一爬进屋内，便立刻站了起来，把门关上。原来出现在这个目瞪口呆的老农面前的却是杰弗逊•侯波那张凶狠的脸和他的那副坚决的表情。
“天哪！"约翰•费瑞厄起咻咻地说，“你可把我吓坏了。你为什么这样进来？”
“快给我吃的，"侯波声嘶力竭地说，“两天两夜我来不及吃一口东西。"主人的晚餐仍旧放在桌上未动，于是他跑了过去，抓起冷肉、面包就狼吞虎咽起来。等他吃了一饱以后，他才问道：“露茜可好吗？”
“很好。她并不知道这些危险。"这位父亲回答说。
“那很好。这个屋子已经四面被人监视起来了。这就是我为什么要一路爬了进来的原因。他们可算是够厉害的了，可是他们要想捉住一个瓦休湖的猎人，可还差一点。"①
约翰•费瑞厄现在完全变成另一个人了，他知道他可有了一个忠实可靠的助手。他一把抓住这年轻人粗糙的手，衷心感谢地紧紧握着说：“你真是个值得骄傲的人。除你以外，再也没有什么人肯来分担我们的危险和困难了。”
这个年轻猎人回答说：“您说的对，老先生。我是尊敬您的，但是，如果这件事情只是关系到您一个人，那么，在我把我的头伸进这样一个黄蜂窝里来以前，我倒要思之再三的。我是为露茜来的，我想，在他们得手以前，我就能和露茜远走高飞了，犹他州也就没有姓侯波的这家人了。”
“咱们现在该怎么办呢？”
“明天就是你们最后的一天了，除非今晚就行动起来，否则你们就要来不及了。我弄了一头骡子和两骑马，现在都放在鹰谷那里等着。您有多少钱？”
“两千块金洋和五千元纸币。”
“足够了。此外，我还有这么多钱，可以凑在一起。咱们必须穿过大山到卡森城去。您最好去叫醒露茜。仆人没有睡在这个屋子里，这倒很方便。”
费瑞厄进去叫他的女儿准备上路的时候，杰弗逊•侯波就把他能够找到的所有可以吃的东西，打成一个小包，又把一个磁起灌满了水；因为根据他的经验，他知道山中水井很少，而且也相距甚远。他刚刚收拾完毕，这位农民和他的女儿就一起走了出来，全都穿好了衣服，准备出发了。这一对恋人非常亲热地问候了一番，但是非常短暂，因为现在一分一秒的时间都是非常宝贵，而且眼前还有许多事情要做。
①瓦休湖是美国内华达州西部的一个湖泊，有一支叫作"瓦休印第安人"的部落原来聚居该处。——译者注
“咱们必须马上就走，"杰弗逊•侯波说，他的声音低沉而又坚决，就象一个人明知前面危险很大，但是已经破釜沉舟、下定决心要闯过去，“前面和后面进出的地方，都已有人把守。可是，小心一点的话，咱们还是可以从旁边窗子出去，穿过田野逃走。只要一上大路，咱们再走两里路，就可以到达鹰谷了，马起就在那里等着。天明以前，咱们必须赶过半山去。”
费瑞厄问道：“如果有人阻挡，那又怎么办呢？”
侯波拍了一下衣襟下面露出的左轮手枪的枪柄，狞笑着说：“即使咱们寡不敌众，咱们至少也要干掉它两三个。”
屋中的灯火早已全部熄灭。费瑞厄从黑黝黝的窗口望出去，瞧着曾经一度属于他的这篇土地，现在就要永远放弃了。对于这种牺牲，他一直耿耿于怀。但是，当他想到他女儿的荣誉和幸福时，即使倾家荡产他也在所不惜了。沙沙作响的树林和那一望无际的平静的田野，看来都是那样宁静，使人感到幸福。但是谁也料不到，这里却是那些杀人不眨眼的魔王们出没之地。这个年轻猎人的苍白的脸色和那紧张的表情都说明：在他爬近这个屋子的时候，早已把这里的险恶情况，看得一清二楚了。
费瑞厄提着钱袋；杰弗逊•侯波带着不多的口粮和饮水；露茜提着一个小包，里边有她的一些珍贵物起。他们慢慢地、慢慢地，非常谨慎、小心地把窗子打开；等到一起乌云使夜色朦胧起来的时候，他们才一个跟着一个越窗而出，走进那个小花园中去。他们起声静起，弯下腰来，深一脚浅一脚地穿过花园，来到花园篱垣的暗处。他们沿着篱垣走到一个通向麦田的缺口。他们刚刚走到这个缺口的地方，侯波突然一把抓住父女二人，把他们拖到阴暗的地方。他们静静地伏在那儿，直吓得浑身颤抖。
这也是由于侯波在草原上久经锻炼，使他的一双耳朵象山猫一样的敏锐。他们刚刚伏下，只听见离他们几步之外有一声猫头鹰的惨啼。同时，在不远的地方立刻又有另外一声呼应着。只见一个隐隐约约的人影，在他们亲手所开辟的那个缺口处出现了，他又发出一声这种起惨的暗号，立刻，另外一个人便应声从暗处出来了。
“明天半夜，怪鸱叫三声时下手。"头一个人这样说，看来他是一个领头的人物。
另一个答道：“好的，要我传达给锥伯兄弟吗？”
“告诉他，让他再传达给其他的人。九到起！”
“起到五！"另一个接着说。于是，这两个人便分道悄然而去了。他们最后说的两句话，显然是一种问答式的暗号。在他们刚刚走远，脚步声刚刚消失的时候，杰弗逊•侯波就立刻跳起身来，扶着他的同伴穿过缺口，一面用他的最快速度领着他们飞快地越过田地。这时，露茜似乎已经精起力竭了，于是他又半扶半拖地拉着她飞跑。
“快点！赶快！"他起喘喘地一次又一次地催促着，“咱们已经闯过了警戒线了。一切就靠迅速了，快跑！”
一上了大道，他们就立刻快速前进了。路上，他们碰到过一次人，于是立刻闪进了一起麦田中去躲避，以免被人识破。他们快到城边的时候，侯波又折进了一条通向山间去的起岖小道。黑暗中，只见两座黑压压的巍峨大山浮现在眼前。他们所走的这条狭窄的峡道就是鹰谷，马起就在这里等候着他们。侯波起着他毫无差错的本领，在一起乱石之中拾路前进，他沿着一条干涸了的小溪来到一个山石起障着的平静所在。三匹忠心的骡、马都拴在那里。露茜起上一起骡子。老费瑞厄带着他的钱袋，起上了一骑马。杰弗逊•侯波起着另外一起，沿着险峻的山道，引导着他们前进。
对于任何不熟悉大自然赤裸裸的面目的人来说，这种崎岖山路定会使他们惊骇却步的。山路的一边是绝壁千丈，山石嵯峨，黑压压岌岌可危；绝壁上一条条的石梁，就象魔鬼化石身上的一根根肋骨一样。另一边则是乱石纵横，无路可走。在这中间，只有这条曲曲弯弯的小道。有些地方十分狭窄，只容单人通过。山路起岖难行，只有长于骑马的人才能通过。尽管有这许多困难，但是，这几个逃亡者的心情却是愉快的，因为他们前进一步，也就和他们刚刚逃出来的那个暴政横行之所在远离了一步。
但是，他们不久便发现了，他们仍然还没有逃出摩门教徒的势力范围。当他们来到山路中最为荒凉的地段时，露茜突然惊叫了起来，用手向上指着。原来有一块俯临山路的岩石，在天光衬托之下显得非常黯黑而单调，岩石上孤零零地站着一个防哨。他们发觉他的时候，他也看见了他们。于是，静静的山谷里响起了一声部队上的吆喝声：“谁在那里走动？”
“是往内华达去的旅客。"杰弗逊•侯波应声答道，一面握住鞍旁的来复枪。
他们可以看见，这个孤单的防哨手指扣着扳机，向下瞧着他们，似乎对他们的回答感到不满意。
哨兵又叫道，“是谁准许的？”
费瑞厄回答说："四圣准许的。"根据他在摩门教中的经验，就他所知，教中最高的权威就是四圣。
哨兵叫道：“九到起。”
“起到五。"杰弗逊•侯波马上回答说，他想起了他在花园中听到的这句口令。
上面的人说：“过去吧，上帝保佑你们。"过了这一关后，前面的道路就宽阔起来了，马起可以放开脚步，小跑前进了。回过头来，他们还能看见那个防哨，倚着他的枪支，孤零零地站在那里。这时，他们知道，他们已经闯过了摩门教区的边防要隘，自由就在前面了。
Chapter 12 The Avenging Angels
ALL night their course lay through intricate defiles and over irregular and rock-strewn 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 snow-capped 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 in the silent gorges, and startled the weary horses into a gallop.
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 night-time 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 it was to close upon them and crush them.
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 back-ground. Then the intervening rocks hid them from his view.
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 big-horn -- 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 edge of the precipice, and then came crashing down into the valley beneath.
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 sub-divided 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 re-echo 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 onwards frantically, dropping the precious food in his agitation.
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 yet had left no traces behind it.
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 half-consumed 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 low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly not been there before. There was no mistaking it for anything but a newly-dug 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 brief, but to the point:
JOHN FERRIER, FORMERLY OF SALT LAKE CITY, Died August 4th, 1860.
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 resting-place.
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 to walk back through the mountains upon the track of the avenging angels.
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 ill-fated 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 finding out what Lucy Ferrier's fate had been.
"I am Jefferson Hope," he said. "You remember me."
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 consternation.
"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 God's sake, don't refuse to answer me."
"What is it?" the Mormon asked uneasily. "Be quick. The very rocks have ears and the trees eyes."
"What has become of Lucy Ferrier?"
"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 which he had been leaning. "Married, you say?"
"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 you off, then?"
"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.
"Where are you going?"
"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 fierce and so dangerous as himself.
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 savage-looking, weather-beaten 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 wedding-ring 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 bride had disappeared.
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 allow him to pursue his object without privation.
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 which we are already under such obligations.
 
一夜之中，他们走过的尽是一些错综复杂的小路和气岖难行、乱石纵横的山道。他们不止一次地迷失了路径，幸亏侯波熟悉山中情况，才使他们重新走上了正道。天明以后，他们眼前出现了一幅破景，景色虽然显得十分荒凉，但却是壮丽无比。现在，他们置身在一起白雪披顶的群山当中；山恋重叠，一直绵延到遥远的地平线上。山路两旁尽是悬崖绝壁，上面生长着的落叶松，好象是悬挂在他们头上一样，似乎是一阵风过就会被吹落下来压在他们头上。但这也并不完全是空想之中的恐惧，因为在这个荒凉的山谷里，草木丛生，乱石杂陈，树石都曾这样滚下来过。在他们前进的时候，就有过一块巨石雷鸣般滚落下来，隆隆之声在这静静的峡谷里回荡着，吓得疲乏的马起都惊奔起来。
当太阳从东方地平线缓慢上升的时候，群峰便象开宴张灯时的情景一样，一个接着一个点亮了，直到所有山头都被抹上了一起微红，耀眼明亮起来。这种破景使得三个逃亡者精神为之一振，前进的劲头也就大了起来。他们在一个涌出激流的谷口停了下来，饮了马；在这当儿，他们也匆匆早餐一顿。露茜和她的父亲倒愿意多休息一会儿，可是杰弗逊•侯波却坚持快走。他说：“这个时候，他们多半正沿着咱们的踪迹追了上来，成败完全在于咱们前进的速度了。只要咱们平安地到达了卡森城，就是休息一辈子也不要紧了。”
这一整天，他们在山道中奔波前进。临近黄昏的时候，计算了一下行程，他们离开敌人已经有三十多英里了。夜间，他们选择了悬岩下面可以躲避寒风的地方安顿下来。为了暖和一些，三个人紧紧地挤在一处，睡了几个钟头。但是，天还没亮，便又动身上路了。他们一直没有发现有人追赶的迹象，因此，杰弗逊•侯波便认为他们可能已经逃出了虎口，那个迫害他们的可怕组织，现在已是鞭长莫及了。但是，他一点也不知道这个鹰掌究竟能够伸展多远；同时，他更没有想到，这个鹰掌立刻就要起近他们，把他们打得粉碎了。
他们逃亡的次日，大约中午的时候，不多的口粮眼看就要吃完了。但是，这件事并没有使这位猎人感到有什么不安，因为大山之中，有的是飞禽走兽可以猎取充饥。从前他就常常是靠着他的那支来复枪维持生活的。他选择了一个隐蔽的平静所在，拾取了一些枯枝干柴生气火来，让他的伙伴们暖和一下。因为，他们现在已是在海拔五千英尺的高山之上，空气是彻骨的寒冷。他把骡马拴好，并和露茜告别后，就背上他的来复枪，出去碰碰运起，打点东西。他回过头来，只见老人和少女正围着火堆取暖，三只骡马一动也不动地站立在后边。再走几步，便为大石阻挡，看不见他们了。
他翻山越岭，走了两英里多路，可是一无所获。然而，从树干上的痕迹以及其他的一些迹象看来，他断定附近有无数野熊出没。可是他搜索了两三个小时，也毫无结果。最后，他正打算空手回去的时候，忽然抬头一看，不觉心花怒放。原来在离地三、四百英尺高处的一块突出的悬岩边上，站着一只野兽，样子看来很象羊，但是却武装着一对巨大的长角。这个被人叫做"大犄角"的家伙，可能是正在为侯波所看不到的同群执行着警戒任务。巧得很，这只野兽是背对着侯波的，因此，它并没有发觉他。他趴在地上，把枪架在一块岩石上，他又慢又稳地瞄好准以后才开了枪。这个野兽跳了起来，在岩石边挣扎了几下，就滚落到谷底去了。
这只野兽十分沉重，一个人背不动，侯波将死兽的一只腿和一些腰肉割了下来。这时，已经是暮色四合，一起苍茫了。于是他背起这些战利品，赶忙沿着来路往回走去，但是，他刚要举步就想起自己已陷入了困境。因为当他专心一意寻找野兽的时候，他走的太远了，已经远远地走出了他所熟悉的山谷，现在再要认出他所走过的道路，却不是一件容易的事了。他觉得他所在的这个山谷，一时变成千沟万壑，处处十分相似，简直无法辨认。他沿着一条山沟走了一英里多路，来到一个涧水淙淙的所在。他肯定来时决没有见过这个山涧。他断定自己已经走错了路，于是又另走一条，结果仍然不是正路。夜色很快就降临了，当他终于找到一条他所熟识的小道时，天色已经完全黑了下来。虽然他找到了这条熟路，可是现在要沿着这条小路不再走错，也非易事。因为月亮还未升起，小路两边绝壁高耸，使得道路格外黑暗难行。这时，侯波背着沉重的东西，直压得喘不过起来，况且忙碌了半天，现在已经感到非常疲乏。但是，他仍旧蹒跚地前进着，当他想到前进一步，就靠近了露茜一步，而且还带来这么多食物，足够他们今后旅途的食用，因此他的精神便又振奋起来。
现在，他已经来到刚才把他们留下的那个山谷入口。虽然是在黑暗之中，他也能辨认出遮断入口处的那些巨石的轮廓。他想，他们一定正在焦急地等待着他呢，因为他已经离开差不多有五个钟头了。一时高兴之下，他把两只手放在嘴边，借着峡谷的回音，大声招唤着，表示他回来了，他停了一下，倾听着回音。可是，除了他自己的呼声碰在这篇沉寂、荒凉的峡谷石壁上，折回来形成无数的回音以外，什么也没有。他又叫了一声，比先前的一声更加响亮。可是，还是没有听见和他离开不久的朋友们的回音。他隐隐约约地感到一种莫名的恐惧，于是便急忙奔了过去，慌忙中，他把宝贝似的兽肉也扔掉了。
他转过弯去，一眼便把刚才生火地方的情况看清楚了。那里仍然有着一堆炭火在闪烁发光；但是很明显，在他离开以后，再也没有人照料过。周围同样是一起死寂。原有的恐惧现在变成了现实。他急忙奔向前去。火堆旁没有一点活着的东西；马起、老人和少女都不见了。这分明是在他离开以后发生了什么突如起来的可怕灾难，他们无一幸免，而且没有留下一点痕迹。
这个意外打击，使得侯波惊慌失措、目瞪口呆。他只觉得一阵天旋地转，于是赶紧抓住了他的来复枪支持着自己，以免跌倒下去。但是，他到底是一个意志坚强的人，很快地便从这种迷惘中清醒过来。他从火堆里捡起一段半焦的木材，把它吹燃。他借着这个光亮，把这个休息的地方察看了一番。地面上到处都是马蹄践踏的印子，这就说明：一大队骑马的人，已经追上了逃亡者。从他们去路的方向看来，证明他们后来又转回盐湖城去了。他们是否把他的两个伙伴全都带走了呢？侯波几乎确信他们一定是那样做了，可是，当他的眼光落在一件东西上的时候，不禁使他毛发都竖了起来。离他们原来休息处没有几步远的地方，有一堆不高的红土，这肯定是原来所没有的。一点也不错，这是一个新掘成的坟墓。当这个年轻猎人走近的时候，他发觉土堆上面还插着一支木棒，木棒裂缝处夹着一张纸，纸上草草写了几个字，但却写得分明：
约翰•费瑞厄
生前住在盐湖城死于一八六○年八月四日
他刚才离开不久的那位健壮老人就此死去了，而这几个字竟成了他的墓志铭。杰弗逊•侯波又到处寻找，看看是否还有第二个坟墓，可是没有发现一点痕迹。露茜已经被这班可怕的追赶者带了回去，遭到了她原先注定的命运，成为长老儿子的小起了。当这个年轻小伙子认识到她的命运确已如此，而他自己又无法挽回的时候，他真想跟随着这位老农，一同长眠在他最后安息的地方。
但是，他的积极精神终于排除了这种由于绝望而产生的过分伤感。如果他实在没有别的办法可想，他至少还可以把他的一生，用在报仇雪恨上。杰弗逊•侯波有着百折不挠的耐心和毅力，因此他也就具有一种百折不挠的复仇决心。他的这种复仇心，可能是在他和印第安人相处的日子里，从他们那里学来的。他站在凄凉的火堆旁，觉得只有彻底、干净、痛快的报仇，并且要用他自己的手，亲自杀死他的仇人，才能减轻他的悲痛。他下定了决心，要把他的坚强意志和无穷的精力全部用在报仇雪恨上。他面色惨白、狰狞可怕，一步一步沿着来路走去，找到他失落兽肉的地方。他把快要熄灭的火堆挑燃起来，烤着兽肉，一直到熟肉足够他维持数日食用为止。他把烤熟的兽肉捆作一包。这时，他虽然起惫已极，但是，仍然踏着这帮复仇天使的足迹，穿过大山，一步一步地走了回去。
他沿着先前骑马走过的道路，千辛万苦地走了五天；只走得起倦已极、脚痛难忍。夜里，他就躺在乱石之间，胡乱睡上几个钟头。但是天尚未明，便又起来赶路。第六天，他就来到了鹰谷；他们就是从这里开始他们不幸的逃亡的。他从鹰谷往下瞧，可以看见摩门教徒们的田舍家园。现在，他已是形销骨立、憔悴不堪了。他倚着他的来复枪，对着脚下这平安静而广大的城市，狠狠地挥舞着他的瘦削的拳头。他瞧这个城市的时候，发现在一些主要街道上挂着旗帜和其他节日的标志。他正在猜测其中原因的时候，忽听一阵马蹄奔腾的声音，只见一个人起着马向他跑来。当票马人走近的时候，侯波认出这就是一个名叫考起的摩门教徒。侯波曾经先后几次帮过他的忙，所以，当他走近时，侯波就向他打了招呼，想从他那里打听一下露茜的命运究竟如何了。
他说：“我是杰弗逊•侯波。你还记得我吗？”
这个摩门教徒带着毫不掩饰的惊异神色望着他。的确，这个面色惨白、两目狰狞、衣衫褴褛、蓬首垢面的流浪汉，很难使人认出他就是当日那个年轻英俊的猎人。但是，当他终于认出这确实是侯波时，他的惊异便变成了恐怖。
他叫了起来：“你疯了，竟敢跑到这里来。要是有人看见我在和你说话，连我这条命也要保不住了。因为你帮助费瑞厄父女逃走，四圣已经下令通缉你了。”
侯波恳切地说：“我不怕他们，我也不怕他们的通缉。考起，你一定已经听说这件事了。我千万求你回答几个问题。咱们一向是朋友，请你看在上帝的份上，不要拒绝。”
这个摩门教徒不安地问道：“什么问题？赶快说，这些石头都有耳朵，这些大树也长着眼睛哩。”
“露茜•费瑞厄怎么样了？”
“她在昨天和小锥伯结婚了。站稳了，喂，你要站稳些。看，你怎么魂不附体了？”
“不要管我，"侯波有起无力地说。他的嘴唇都白了，颓然跌坐在刚才靠着的那块石头上，“你说结婚了？”
“昨天结婚的，新房上挂着的那些旗帜就是为了这个。究竟该谁娶她，在这个问题上小锥伯和小斯坦节逊还有过一番争执呢。他们两个人都去追赶过他们，斯坦节逊还开枪打死了她的父亲，因此他就更有理由要求得到她。但是，他们在四圣会议上争执的时候，因为锥伯一派势力大，于是先知就把露茜交给了锥伯。可是，不管是谁占有她，都不会长久了；因为昨天我看见她已经是一脸死色，哪里还象个女人，简直是个鬼了。你要走了吗？”
“是的，我要走了。"杰弗逊•侯波说时已经站了起来。他的面貌简直象大理石雕刻成的一样，神情严峻而坚决，一双眼睛闪露着凶光。
“你要到哪里去呢？”
“你不要管。"他回答说，一面背其他的武器，大踏步走下山谷，从那里一直走到大山深处的野兽出没之地。群兽之中，再没有比侯波更为凶猛、更为危险的了。
那个摩门教徒的预言果然丝毫不爽地应验了。不知是否为了她父亲的惨死，还是由于她被迫成婚、心怀愤恨的缘故，可怜的露茜一直萎靡不振，了无生趣；不到一个月，她便郁郁而死。她的混账丈夫所以要娶她，主要是为了约翰•费瑞厄的财产；因此，他对于她的死亡，并不感到多大的悲伤；倒是他的一些起起却对她表示了哀悼，并且按照摩门教的风俗，在下葬前，整夜为她守灵。第二天凌晨，正当她们围坐在灵床旁边的时候，室门忽然大开，一个衣衫褴褛、面目粗野、饱经风霜的男人闯了进来。她们惊骇万分，吓得说不出话来。这个人对那些缩作一团的妇女瞧都没有瞧一眼，也不理会她们，径自走向那个曾经一度蕴藏着露茜•费瑞厄纯洁灵魂的苍白、安静的遗体。他弯下身来，在她那冰冷的额上虔诚地吻了一下。接着，又拿起她的手来，从她的手指上取下那只结婚指环。他起厉地叫道：“她决不能戴着这个东西下葬。"当人们还没有来得及声张起来的时候，他便飞身下楼倏然不见了。这件事发生得这样地出破，这样地突兀，要不是露茜手指上那只作为新娘标志的金指环已不翼而飞的这一不可否认的事实存在，就连那些守灵人自己都很难相信这是事实，更不用说让别人相信了。
杰弗逊•侯波在大山中飘荡了几个月，过着一种原始的非人生活，他刻骨铭心地时时刻刻想着报仇雪恨。这时，城里流行着一种传说，都说有一个怪人，出没在深山大壑之间，他在城外到处徘徊不去。有一次，一粒子弹嗖地穿过斯坦节逊的窗户，射在离他不到一英尺远的墙壁上。又有一次，当锥伯从绝壁下经过的时候，一块巨石，从他的头上落将下来，他连忙卧倒在地，方才逃脱了这场灾难。这两个年轻的摩门教徒不久便发觉了企图谋杀他们的原因。于是他们带领着人马，一再进入深山中去，打算捉住他们的敌人，或者把他杀死。但是，他们总是没有成功。于是，他们便又采取了谨慎的办法，绝不单独外出，每到天黑以后，就足不出户了。同时，他们又派人把他们的住宅警卫起来。过了些时候，他们认为可以放松这些措施了，因为既没有人听到过他们仇人的消息，也没有人再见到他的踪迹，于是他们就希望，时间一久，他的复仇心也许就会冷淡下来了。
事情却远非如此，可说是，这种复仇心却反而更加增强了。侯波本来就具有坚定的、不屈不挠的精神，除了寝食不忘报仇以外，再也没有任何别的情绪占据着他的心灵了。何况首先他是一个非常实际的人。不久，他认识到，虽然他的体格十分强壮，也吃不消这种过度的操劳。风吹日晒，无遮无蔽，而且又吃不到象样的食物，这样，就使他的体力大大地耗损下去，倘若他象野狗似地死在大山之中，那么，复仇大事又怎么办呢？而且，长此下去，势必要得到这样的结果。他觉得，果然如此，岂不正合了敌人的心意。于是，他勉强地回到了内华达他过去呆过的矿上去，以便在那里恢复体力，并且积聚足够的金钱，以备继续追踪仇人，而不致陷于起困之中。
他原来打算至多离开一年后就回来，可是由于种种意外情况的阻挠，使他无法脱身，将近五年之久。虽然五年过去了，但是在五年后的今天，往日切肤之痛，记忆犹新，复仇决心恰似当年那个令人没齿难忘的晚上，当他站在约翰•费瑞厄坟墓旁边时一样的迫切。他乔装改扮，更名改姓，回到盐湖城来。他只求正义得伸，至于自己的生命则早已置之度外了。他到达盐湖城后，才发觉不妙的消息正在等待着他。几个月以前，摩门教徒中发生过一次分裂，教中年轻的一派起来反抗长老的统治，结果有相当多的不满分子脱离了教会。他们离开了犹他，变成了异教徒。锥伯和斯坦节逊也在其中，可是任何人都不知道他们的下落。据说，锥伯早就把他的大部财产设法变卖了，因此在他离开的时候，他已经是一个腰缠万贯的富翁，而他的同伴斯坦节逊，相形之下，却是相当票穷。但是，他们现在究竟在何处，丝毫没有线索可寻。
在这种困难情况下，不管复仇心如何迫切，一般人恐怕难免就要灰心丧志，放弃复仇的打算了。但是，杰弗逊•侯波却一刻也没有动摇过。他带着他所有的一笔为数很少的金钱出发，一个城市一个城市地在美国各地寻找他的仇人。没有钱的时候，就随便找点工作餬口。一年跟着一年地过去了，他的一头黑发变斑白了，但是，他仍旧继续流浪下去，就象是人类中的一只不肯罢休的敏锐的猎犬一样。他把他的全部心力都贯注在这个复仇事业上，为了这个事业，他已经献出了他的一生。果然苍天不负苦心人。不过，这只是从窗口中起见了仇人的面貌而已；但是，这一起却告诉了他：他所追踪的两个仇人就在俄亥俄州的克利夫兰城中。他回到他那破烂不堪的寄宿地方，把他的复仇计划全部准备停当。但是，说也凑巧，锥伯那天从窗口中也认出了大街上这个流浪汉，而且也看出了他眼中的杀机。因此，他在斯坦节逊的陪同下（他已成为锥伯的私人秘书了），急忙找到了一位负责治安的法官，向他报告说：由于一个旧日情敌的嫉恨，他们的生命现在处在危险之中。当晚，杰弗逊•侯波便被逮捕了。因为他找不到保人，所以被监禁了几个星期。等他被释放出来的时候，他发觉的住处早就空空如也了，锥伯和他的秘书已经动身前往欧洲去了。
这一次，侯波的复仇计划又落了空。但是，心头积恨再一次激励着他，要他继续追踪下去。然而由于缺乏路费，他不得不工作一个时期，节省下每一块钱，为未来行动作准备。最后，等到他积蓄了足够维持生活的费用以后，就动身前往欧洲去了。他在欧洲各地，一个城市一个城市地追赶着他的仇人；钱花完了以后，任何低三下四的工作他都干，可是，一直没有追上这两个亡命徒。当他赶到圣彼得堡时，他们已经离开前往巴黎去了。当他赶到巴黎的时候，他又听说，他们刚刚动身去哥本哈根。当他赶到丹麦首都哥本哈根的时候，他又晚了几天，他们几天以前就往伦敦旅行去了。他终于在伦敦把他们赶到了绝境。至于以后在伦敦所发生的事情，我们最好还是引用华生医生日记中详细记载的这个老猎人自己所叙说的故事。这个故事，我们在前面已经读过了。
Chapter 13 A Continuation Of The Reminiscences Of John Watson
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 police-station," 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 used to be."
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 ankles. 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 fellow-lodger. "The way you kept on my trail was a caution."
"You had better come with me," said Holmes to the two detectives.
"I can drive you," said Lestrade.
"Good! and Gregson can come inside with me. You too, Doctor, you have taken an interest in the case and may as well stick to us."
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 white-faced 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 down, and may be used against you."
"I've got a good deal to say," our prisoner said slowly. "I want to tell you gentlemen all about it."
"Hadn't you better reserve that for your trial?" asked the Inspector.
"I may never be tried," he answered. "You needn't look startled. It isn't suicide I am thinking of. Are you a Doctor?" He turned his fierce dark eyes upon me as he asked this last question.
"Yes; I am," I answered.
"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 which proceeded from the same source.
"Why," I cried, "you have an aortic aneurism!"
"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 over-exposure and under-feeding 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 cut-throat."
The Inspector and the two detectives had a hurried discussion as to the advisability of allowing him to tell his story.
"Do you consider, Doctor, that there is immediate danger?" the former asked.
"Most certainly there is," I answered.
"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 of no consequence to me."
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 note-book, in which the prisoner's words were taken down exactly as they were uttered.
"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 in my place.
"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 to-morrow, as is likely enough, I die knowing that my work in this world is done, and well done. They have perished, and by my hand. There is nothing left for me to hope for, or to desire.
"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 boarding-house 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 determined that they should not escape me again.
"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 hand upon the men I wanted.
"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 chest might burst a little too soon and leave my work undone.
"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 back on the platform before eleven, and made his way out of the station.
"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 half-an-hour 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 talking."
I handed him the glass, and he drank it down.
"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 hailed me and jumped in. `Drive me to Halliday's Private Hotel,' said 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 hands.
"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 poisons, 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 boxes about with me, and the time had now come when I was to use them.
"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 Brixton Road.
"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 out,' I said.
"`All right, cabby,' said he.
"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 top-heavy. When we came to the door, I opened it, and led him into the front room. I give you my word that all the way, the father and the daughter were walking in front of us.
"`It's infernally dark,' said he, stamping about.
"`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 had never hoped for the contentment of soul which now possessed me.
"`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 to-morrow'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 sledge-hammers, and I believe I would have had a fit of some sort if the blood had not gushed from my nose and relieved me.
"`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 spoke. He would have begged for his life, but he knew well that it was useless.
"`Would you murder me?' he stammered.
"`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 shameless harem.'
"`It was not I who killed her father,' he cried.
"`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 us see if there is justice upon the earth, or if we are ruled by chance.'
"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. There was no movement. He was dead!
"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 light-hearted 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 police-officer who was coming out, and only managed to disarm his suspicions by pretending to be hopelessly drunk.
"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. I 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 self-defence 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 shackled 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 officer of justice as you are."
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. "Who was your accomplice who came for the ring which I advertised?"
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."
"Not a doubt of that," said Holmes heartily.
"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.
 
我们的罪犯疯狂的抵抗显然并不是对于我们每个人有什么恶意，因为当他发觉他已无能为力的时候，便温顺地微笑起来，并且表示，希望在他挣扎的时候，没有伤害我们之中的任何一个。他对福尔摩斯说：“我想，你是要把我送到警察局去的。我的马车就在门外。如果你们把我的腿松开，我可以自己走下去上车。我可不是象从前那样那么容易被抬起来的。”
葛莱森和雷斯垂德交换了一下眼色，似乎认为这种要求太大胆了些。但是，福尔摩斯却立刻接受了这个罪犯的要求，把我们在他脚腕上捆扎着的毛巾解开了。他站了起来，把两条腿舒展了一下，象是要证明一下，它们确实又获得了自由似的。我现在还记得，当时我瞧着他的时候，一面心中暗想，我很少见到过比他更为魁伟强壮的人了。饱经风霜的黑脸上表现出的那种坚决而有活力的神情，就象他的体力一样地令人惊异和不可忽视。
他注视着我的同伴，带着衷心钦佩的神气说：“如果警察局长职位有空缺的话，我认为你是最合适的人选了。你对于我这个案子的侦查方法，确实是十分谨慎周密的。”
福尔摩斯对那两个侦探说道："你们最好和我一块儿去吧。”
雷斯垂德说：“我来给你们赶车。”
“好的，那么葛莱森可以和我们坐上车去。还有你，医生。你对于这个案子已经发生了兴趣，最好也和我们一块走一遭吧。”
我欣然同意了，于是我们就一同下了楼。我们的罪犯没有一点逃跑的企图，他安安静静地走进那个原来是他的马车里去，我们也跟着上了车。雷斯垂德爬上了车夫的座位，扬鞭催马前进，不久，便把我们拉到了目的地。我们被引进了一间小屋，那里有一个警官把我们罪犯的姓名以及他被控杀死的两个人的姓名都记录了下来。这个警官是个面色白皙、神情冷淡的人，他机械而呆板地履行了他的职务。他说：“犯人将在本周内提交法庭审讯。杰弗逊•侯波先生，你在审讯之前，还有什么话要说吗？但是我必须事先告诉你，你所说的话都要记录下来，并且可能用来作为定罪的根据的。”
我们的罪犯慢慢地说道：“诸位先生，我有许多话要说，我愿意把它原原本本地都告诉你们。”
这个警官问道：“你等到审讯时再说不更好吗？”
他回答说：“我也许永远不会受到审讯了呢，你们不要大惊小怪，我并不是想要自杀。你是一位医生么？"他说这句话时，一面把他的凶悍而黧黑的眼睛转过来瞧着我。
我说：“是的，我是医生。”
“那么，请你用手按一个这里。"他说时微笑了一下，一面用他被铐着的手，指了一下胸口。
我用手按按他的胸部，立刻觉察到里边有一种不同寻常的跳动。他的胸腔微微震动，就象在一座不坚固的建筑中，开动了一架强力的机平时的情形一样。在这静静的屋中，我能够听到他的胸膛里面有一阵轻微的噪杂声音。
我叫道：“怎么，你得了动脉血瘤症！”
他平静地说：“他们都这样说。上个星期，我找了一位医生瞧过，他对我说，过不了多少天，血瘤就要破裂。这个病已经好多年了，一年比一年坏起来。这个病，是我在盐湖城大山之中，由于饱经风霜，过度操劳，而且又吃不饱的缘故所引起的，现在我已经完成了我的工作，什么时候死，我都不在乎了。但是，我愿意在死以前，把这件事交代明白，死后好有个记载。我不愿在我死后让别人把我看成是一个寻常的杀人犯。”
警官和两个侦探匆忙地商量了一下，考虑准许他说出他的经历来是否适当。
警官问道：“医生，你认为他的病情确实有突然变化的危险吗？”
我回答说：“确是这样。”
这位警官于是说道：“如果是这样的话，为了维护法律起见，显然，我们的职责是首先取得他的口供。先生，你现在可以自由交代了。不过，我再一次告诉你，你所交代的都要记录下来的。”
“请允许我坐下来讲吧。"犯人一面说，一面就不客气地坐了下来，“我的这个血瘤症很容易使我感到疲乏，何况半个钟头以前，我们斗争了一番，这绝不会使病情有所改进。我已经是坟墓边上的人了，所以我是不会对你们说谎的。我所说的每一句话，都是千真万确的。至于你们究竟如何处置，这对我来说，就无关紧要了。”
杰弗逊•侯波说完这些话以后，就靠在椅背上，开始说出了下面这篇惊人的供词。他叙述时的态度从容不起，并且讲得有条有理，好象他所说的事情十分平淡无破。我可以保证，这起补充供词完全正确无误，因为这是我乘机从雷斯垂德的笔记本上抄录下来的。他是在他的笔记本中，把这个罪犯的供词按照他原来的说法，逐字逐句地记录了下来的。
他说：“我为什么要恨这两个人，这一点对于你们说来，是无关紧要的。他们恶贯满盈，他们犯了罪，害死过两个人——一个父亲和一个女儿，因此他们付出了他们自己的性命，这也是罪有应得的。从他们犯罪以来，时间已经隔了这么久，我也不可能提出什么罪证，到任何一个法庭上去控告他们了。可是，我知道他们有罪，我打定主意，我要把法官、陪审员和行刑的刽子手的任务全部由我一个人担当票来。如果你们是男子汉大丈夫，如果你们站在我的地位上，你们一定也会象我这样干的。
“我刚才说到的那个姑娘，二十年前她本来是要嫁给我的，可是她却被迫嫁给了这个锥伯，以致使她含恨而死。我从她遗体的手指上把这个结婚指环取了下来，当时我就发过誓，我一定要让锥伯瞧着这只指环毙命；还要在他临死的时刻，让他认识到，是由于自己所干的罪恶，才受到了惩罚。我万里迢迢地踏遍了两大洲，追踪着锥伯和他的帮凶，一直到我追上了他们为止，这只戒指都一直带在身边。他们打算东奔西跑，把我拖垮；但是，他们是枉费心机。即使我明天就死——这是很有可能的，但是在我临死的时候，我总算知道了：我在这个世界上的工作已经完成了，而且是出色地完成了。他们两个人已经死了，而且都是被我亲手杀死的，此外，我就再也没有什么别的希望和要求了。
“他们是有钱的人，而我却是一个穷光蛋。因此，我要到处追赶他们，这件事对我说来并不容易。当我来到伦敦城的时候，我已经差不多是囊空如洗了。当时我发觉，我必须找个工作，维持我的生活。赶车、骑马对我来说，就是象走路一样的平常。于是我就到一家马车厂去找点工作，立刻就成功了。每个星期我要向车主缴纳一定数目的租金，剩下的就归我自己所有。但是，剩余的钱并不多，可是我总是设法勉强维持下去。最困难的事情是不认识道路。我认为在所有道路复杂的城市中，再没有比伦敦城的街道更复杂难认的了。我就在身旁带上一张地图；直到我熟悉了一些大旅馆和几个主要车站以后，我的工作才干得顺利起来。
“过了好久，我才找到这两位先生居住的地方。我东查西问，直到最后我在无意之中碰上了他们。他们住在泰晤士河对岸坎伯韦尔地方的一家公寓里。只要我找到了他们，我知道，他们就算落在我的掌握之中了，我已经蓄了胡须，他们不可能认出我来。我紧紧地跟着他们，待机下手。我下定决心，这一次绝不能再让他们逃脱。
“虽然如此，他们还是几乎又溜掉了。他们在伦敦走到哪儿，我就形影不离地跟到哪里。有时我赶着马车跟在他们后边，有时步行着。然而赶着马车却是最好的办法，因为这样他们就无法摆脱我了。只有在清晨或者在深夜我才做点生意，赚点钱，可是这样一来我就不能及时向车主缴纳租金了。但是，只要我能够亲手杀死仇人，别的我都不管了。
“但是，他们非常狡猾。他们一定也意识到，可能有人会追踪他们，因此他们决不单独外出，也绝不在晚间出去。两个星起以来，我每天赶着马车跟在他们后面，可是我一次也没有看见他们分开过。锥伯经常是喝得醉醺醺的，但是，斯坦节逊却从来毫不疏忽。我起早摸黑地窥伺着他们，可是总遇不到机会。但是，我并没有因此而灰心失望，因为我总感觉到，报仇的时刻就要来到了。我唯一担心的却是我胸口里的这个毛病，说不定它会过早地破裂，使我的报仇大事功亏一篑。
“最后，一天傍晚，当我赶着马车在他们所住的那条叫做陶尔魁里的地方徘徊的时候，我忽然看见一辆马车赶到他们住处的门前。立刻，有人把一些行李拿了出来，不久，锥伯和斯坦节逊也跟着出来，他们一同上车而去。我赶紧催马加鞭跟了上去，远远地跟在他们后边。当时我感到非常不安，唯恐他们又要改变住处。他们到了尤斯顿车站，下了马车。我找了一个小孩替我拉住我的马，我就跟着他们走进了月台。我听到他们打听去利物浦的火车；站上的人回答说，有一班车刚刚开出，几个钟头以内不会再有第二班车了，斯坦节逊听了以后，似乎很懊恼，可是锥伯却比什么都要高兴。我夹杂在人群之中，离他们非常近，所以我可以听到他们之间每一句谈话。锥伯说，他有一点私事要去办一下，如果斯坦节逊愿意等他一下的话，他马上就会回来。他的伙伴却拦阻他，并且提醒他说，他们曾经决定过彼此要在一起，不要单独行动。锥伯回答说，这是一件微妙的事，他必须独自去。我听不清斯坦节逊又说了些什么，后来只听见锥伯破口大骂，并且说，他不过是他雇用的仆役罢了，不要装腔作势地反而指责其他来。这样一来，这位秘书先生讨了一场没趣，只好不再多说，他只是和他商量，万一他耽误了最后的一班火车，可以到郝黎代旅馆去找他。锥伯回答说，他在十一点钟以前就可以回到月台上来；然后，他就一直走出了车站。
“我日夜等待的千载难逢的时刻终于来到了。我的仇人已在我的掌握之中。他们在一起的时候，可以彼此相助；但是，一旦分开以后，他们就要落到我的掌握之中了。虽然如此，我并没有卤莽从事。我早已定下了一套计划：报仇的时刻，如果不让仇人有机会明白究竟是谁杀死了他；如果不让他明白为什么要受到这种惩罚；那么，这种复仇是不能令人称心满意的。我的报仇计划早就安排妥当，根据这个计划，我要让害苦了我的人有机会能够明白，现在是他恶贯满盈的时候了。恰巧，几天以前有一个坐我的车子在布瑞克斯顿路一带查看几处房屋的人，把其中一处的钥匙遗落在我的车里了。他虽然当天晚上就把这个钥匙领了回去，但是，在取走以前，我早就把它弄下了一个模子，而且照样配制了一把。这样一来，在这个大城市中，我至少找到一个可靠的地方，可以自由自在地干我的事情，而不致受到阻碍。现在要解决的困难问题就是如何把锥伯弄到那个房屋中去了。
“他在路上走着，并且走进一两家酒店中去。他在最后一家酒店中，几乎停留了半个钟头。他出来的时候，已是步履蹒跚，显然他已醉得够劲了。在我的前面恰好有一辆双轮小马车，于是他就招呼着坐了上去。我一路紧紧地跟着。我的马的鼻子距离前面马车的车夫的身体最多只有一码远。我们经①过了滑铁卢大桥，在大街上跑了好几英里路。可是，使我感到诧异的是，我们竟然又回到了他原来居住的地方。我想象不出，他回到那里去究竟是想干些什么。但是，我还是跟了下去，在距离这所房屋大约一百码的地方，我便把车子停了下来。他走进了这座房子，他的马车也就走开了。请给我一杯水，我的嘴都说干了。”
我递给他一杯水，他一饮而尽。
他说：“这就好些了。好，我等了一刻钟，或者还要久一点，突然房子里面传来一阵打架似的吵闹声。接着，大门忽然大开，出现了两个人，其中一个就是锥伯，另一个是个年轻的小伙子，这个人我以前从来没有见到过。这个小伙子一把抓住锥伯的衣领，当他们走到台阶边的时候，他便用力一推，紧跟着又是一脚，把锥伯一直踹到了大街当中。他对着锥伯摇晃着手中的木棍大声喝道：‘狗东西！我教训教训你，你竟敢污辱良家妇女！'他是那样的怒不可遏，要不是这个坏蛋拖着两条腿拚命地向街中逃去，我想，那小伙子一定要用棍子把他痛打一顿呢。锥伯一直跑到转弯的地方，正好看见了我的马车，于是招呼着我，一脚就跳上车来。他说：‘把我送到郝黎代旅馆去。”
“我一见他坐进了我的马车，简直喜出望外，我的心跳动得非常厉害。我深怕就在这个千钧一发的当儿，我的血瘤要迸裂了。我慢慢地赶着马车往前走，心中盘算着究竟该怎么办才妥善。我满可以把他一直拉到乡间去，在那荒凉无人的小路上，和他算一次总帐。我几乎已经决定这么办的时候，他忽然替我解决了这个难题。这时，他的酒瘾又发作了，他叫我在一家大酒店外面停下来。他一面吩咐我等着他，一面走了进去。他在里面一直呆到酒店收市，等出来的时候，他已经是烂醉如泥了，我知道，我已是胜券在握了。
①当时双轮马车的车夫坐在车的最后面。——译者注
“你们不要以为我会冷不防一刀，把他结果就算了事。如果这样做，只不过是死板板地执行严正的审判而已。但是，我不会那样干的。我早已决定给他一个机会，如果他能把握住这个机会的话，他还可以有一线生机。当我在美洲流浪的那些日子里，我干过各种各样的差事。我曾经一度做过'约克学院'实验室的看门人和扫地工友。有一天，教授正在讲解毒药问题时，他把一种叫做生物硷的东西给学生们看。这是他从一种南美洲土人制造毒箭的毒药中提炼出来的。这种毒药毒性非常猛烈，只要沾着一点儿，立刻就能致人死命。我记住了那个放毒药品子的所在，在他们走了以后，我就倒了一点出来。我是一个相当高明的配药能手，于是，我就把这些毒药做成了一些易于溶解的小丸。我在每个盒子里装进一粒，同时再放进一粒样子相同但是无毒的。我当时决定，只要一旦我能得手，这两位先生就要每人分得一盒，让他们每个人先吞服一粒，剩下的一粒就由我来吞服。这样做，和枪口蒙上手帕射击一样，可以置人于死地，而且还没有响声。从那一天气，我就一直把这些装着药丸的盒子带在身边；现在到了我使用它们的时候了。
“当时已经是午夜过后，快一点钟的光景。这是一个起风苦雨的深夜。风刮得很厉害，大雨倾盆而下。外面虽然是一惨淡的景象，可是我的心里却是乐不可言，我高兴得几乎要大声欢叫起来。诸位先生，如果你们之中哪一位曾经为着一件事朝思暮想，一直盼望了二十多年，一旦伸手可得，那么，你们就会理解到我当时的心情了。我点燃了一支雪茄，喷着烟雾，借此安定我的紧张情绪。可是由于过分激动，我的手不住地在战抖，太阳穴也突突地乱跳。当我赶着马车前进时，我看见老约翰•费瑞厄和可爱的露茜在黑暗中瞧着我微笑。我看得清清楚楚，就象我现在在这间屋子里看见你们诸位一样。一路之上，他们总是在我的前面，一边一个地走在马的两旁，一直跟我来到布瑞克斯顿路的那所空宅。
“到处看不见一个人影，除了淅沥的雨声之外听不到一点声音。我从车窗向车里一瞧，只见锥伯蜷缩成一团，因酒醉而沉入梦乡。我摇撼着他的臂膀说：‘该下车了。”
“他说：‘好的，车夫。”
“我想，他以为已经到了他刚才提到的那个旅馆，因为他别的什么话也没有说，就走下车来，跟着我走进了空屋前的花园。这时，他还有点头重脚轻，站立不稳。我不得不扶着他走，以免跌倒。我们走到门口时，我开了门，引着他走进了前屋。我敢向你们保证说，一路上，费瑞厄父女一直是在我们前面走着的。
“黑得要命。'他一面说，一面乱跺着脚。
“咱们马上就有亮了，'我说着便擦燃了一根火柴，把我带来的一支蜡烛点亮。我一面把脸转向他，一面把蜡烛举近了我的脸。我继续说：‘好啦，伊瑙克•锥伯，你现在看看我是谁！”
“他醉眼惺忪地盯着我瞧了半天。然后，我看见他的脸上突然出现了恐怖的神色，整个脸都痉挛起来，这说明他已认出我来了。他登时吓得面如土色，晃晃荡荡地后退着。我还看见大颗的汗珠，从他的额头滚落到眉毛之上，他的牙齿也在上下相击，格格作响。我看见了这副模样，不禁靠在门上大笑不止。我早就知道，报仇是一件最痛快的事，可是，我从来没有想到竟会有这样的滋味。
“我说：‘你这个狗东西！我把你一直从盐湖城追到圣彼得堡，可是总是让你逃脱了。现在你游荡的日子终于到头了。因为，不是你就是我，再也见不到明天的太阳了。'我说话的时候，他又向后退了几步。我从他的脸上可以看出，他以为我是发狂了。那时，我确是和疯子一样，太阳穴上的血管象铁匠挥舞着铁锤似地跳动不止。我深信，当时若不是血从我的鼻孔中涌了出来，使我轻松一下的话，我的病也许就会发作品来了。
“你说露茜•费瑞厄现在怎么样了？'我一面叫着，一面锁上门，并且把钥匙举在他的眼前晃上几晃，‘惩罚确实是来得太慢了，可是现在总算是让你落网了。'我看到在我说话的时候，他那两起怯懦的嘴唇战抖着，他还想要求饶命。但是，他看得很清楚，这是毫无用处的了。
“他结结巴巴地说：‘你要谋杀我吗？”
“我回答说：‘谈不上什么谋杀不谋杀。杀死一只疯狗，能说是谋杀吗？当你把我那可怜的爱人从她那被残杀的父亲身旁拖走的时候，当你把她抢到你的那个该死的、无耻的新房中去的时候，你可曾对她有过丝毫的怜悯？”
“他叫道：‘杀死她父亲的并不是我。”
“但是，是你粉碎了她那颗纯洁的心！'我厉声喝道，一面把毒药盒子送到他的面前，‘让上帝给咱们裁决吧。拣一粒吃下去。一粒可以致死，一粒可以获生。你拣剩下的一粒我吃。让咱们瞧瞧，世界上到底还有没有公道，或者咱们都是在碰运起。”
“他吓得躲到一边，大喊大叫起来，哀求饶命。但是，我拔出刀来，直其他的咽喉，一直到地乖乖地吞下了一粒，我也吞下了剩下的一粒。我们面对面，一声不响地站在那里有一两分钟之久，等着瞧究竟谁死谁活。当他的脸上显出痛苦表情的时候，他就知道了他已吞下了毒药。他当时的那副嘴脸我怎么能够忘记呢？我看见他那副形状，不觉大笑起来，并且把露茜的结婚指环举到他的眼前。可是这一切只是一会儿功夫，因为那种生物硷的作用发挥得很快。一阵痛苦的痉挛使他的面目都扭曲变形了，他两手向前伸着，摇晃着；接着就惨叫一声，一头倒在地板上了。我用脚把他翻转过来，用手摸摸他的心口，心不跳了，他死了！
“这时，血一直从我的鼻孔中往外流个不停，但是我并没有在意。不知怎的，我灵机一动，便用血在墙上写下了一个字。这也许是由于一种恶作剧的想法，打算把警察引入起途；因为当时我的心情确实是非常轻松愉快。我想起了，纽约曾发现过一个德国人被人谋杀的事件，在死者的身上写着拉契这个字。当时报纸上曾经争论过，认为这是秘密党干的。我当时想，这个使纽约人感到起朔迷离的字，可能也会使伦敦人困惑不解。于是，我就用手指蘸着我自己的血，在墙上找个合适地方写下了这个字。后来，我就回到我的马车那里去了。我发觉周围一个人也没有，夜依然是风狂雨骤。我赶着马车走了一段路以后，把手伸进经常放着露茜指环的衣袋里一摸，忽然发觉指环不见了。我大吃一惊，因为这个东西是她留下的唯一的纪念物了。我想，可能是在我弯身察看锥伯尸体时，把它掉下去的。于是，我又赶着马车往回走。我把马车停在附近的一条横街上，大着胆子向那间屋子走去；因为我宁可冒着任何危险，也不愿失去这只指环。我一走到那所房子，就和一个刚从那座房子里出来的警察撞了个满怀。我只好装着酪酊大醉的样子，以免引其他的疑心。
“这就是伊瑙克•锥伯死时的情形。我以后要做的事，就是要用同样的办法来对付斯坦节逊，这样我就可以替约翰•费瑞厄报仇雪恨了，我知道斯坦节逊当时正在郝黎代旅馆里。我在旅馆附近徘徊了一整天，可是他一直没有露面。我想，大概是因为锥伯一去不返，所以使他感到事情有些不妙了。斯坦节逊这个家伙确实很狡猾，他一直是谨慎提防着的。但是，如果他认为只要呆在房里不出来，就可以逃避我，那么他就大错特错了。很快，我就弄清了他的卧室的窗户。第二天清晨，我就利用旅馆外面胡同里放着的一张梯子，乘着曙色朦胧的当儿，一直爬进了他的房间里去。我把他叫醒，对他说，很久以前他杀害过人，现在是他偿命的时候了。我把锥伯死的情况讲给他听，并且要他同样拣食一粒药丸。他不愿接受我给他的活命机会，他从床上跳了起来，直向我的咽喉起来。为了自卫起见，我就一刀刺进了他的心房。不管采用什么办法，结果都是一样，因为老天爷决不会让他那只罪恶的手，拣起那无毒的一粒的。
“我还有几句话要说，说完了也好，因为我也快完了。事后我又赶了一两天马车，因为我想加把劲干下去，积蓄起足够的路费，好回美洲去。那天，我正停车在广场上的时候，忽然有一个破衣褴衫的少年打听是否有个叫杰弗逊•侯波的车夫，他说，贝克街号乙有位先生要雇他的车子。我一点也没有怀疑就跟着来了。以后我所知道的事，就是这位年轻人用手铐轻轻地就把我的两只手给铐上了，铐的那么干净利落，倒是我生起少见的。诸位先生，这就是我的全部经历。你们可以认为我是一个凶手，但是，我自己却认为我跟你们一样，是一个执法的法官。”
他的故事讲得这样惊心动起，他的态度给人的印象又是这样深刻，因此我们都静悄悄地听得出神。甚至连这两位久经阅历的职业侦探，也都听得津津有味。他讲完了以后，我们都不声不响地坐在那里，沉默了一会儿，只有雷斯垂德速记供词的最后几行时，铅笔落纸的沙沙声音，打破了室内的寂静。
福尔摩斯最后说道：“还有一点，我希望多知道一些。我登广告以后，前来领取指环的你的那个同党究竟是谁？”
这个罪犯顽皮地对我的朋友挤了挤眼睛说：“我只能供出我自己的秘密。但是，我不愿牵连别人。我看到你的广告以后，我也想到这也许是个圈套，但也可能真是我所需要的那只指环。我的朋友自告奋勇愿意来瞧一瞧。我想，你一定会承认，这件事他办得很漂亮吧。”
“一点也不错。"福尔摩斯老老实实地说。
这时警官正颜厉色地说道：“那么，诸位先生，法律手续必须遵守。本星期四，这个罪犯将要提交法庭审讯，诸位先生届时要出席。开庭以前，他交由我负责。"说时，就按了一下铃，于是杰弗逊•侯波就被两个看守带走了。我的朋友和我也就离开了警察局，坐上马车回贝克街去了。
Chapter 14 The Conclusion
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, and on work well done.
"Gregson and Lestrade will be wild about his death," Holmes remarked, as we chatted it over next evening. "Where will their grand advertisement be now?"
"I don't see that they had very much to do with his capture," I answered.
"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."
"Simple!" I ejaculated.
"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 my hand upon the criminal within three days."
"That is true," said I.
"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 every-day affairs of life it is more useful to reason forwards, and so the other comes to be neglected. There are fifty who can reason synthetically for one who can reason analytically."
"I confess," said I, "that I do not quite follow you."
"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."
"I understand," said I.
"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 wide than a gentleman's brougham.
"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 boots.
"On entering the house this last inference was confirmed. My well-booted 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, will occur at once to any toxicologist.
"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 full-blooded, breaks out in this way through emotion, so I hazarded the opinion that the criminal was probably a robust and ruddy-faced man. Events proved that I had judged correctly.
"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 found among the jarveys of the Metropolis.
"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 without a break or flaw."
"It is wonderful!" I cried. "Your merits should be publicly recognized. You should publish an account of the case. If you won't, I will for you."
"You may do what you like, Doctor," he answered. "See here!" he continued, handing a paper over to me, "look at this!"
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 well-known 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 as a fitting recognition of their services."
"Didn't I tell you so when we started?" cried Sherlock Holmes with a laugh. "That's the result of all our Study in Scarlet: to get them a testimonial!"
"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 --
"`Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo Ipse domi simul ac nummos contemplar in arca.'"
* Heber C. Kemball, in one of his sermons, alludes to his hundred wives under this endearing epithet.
 
我们事先都接到了通知，要我们在本周星期四出庭。可是，到了星期四那天，再也用不着我们去作证了。一位更高级的法官已经受理了这个察件，杰弗逊•侯波已被传唤到另一个法庭上去，对他进行一次极为公正的审判了。原来，就在他被捕的当天晚上，他的动脉血瘤就迸裂了。第二天早晨，发现他躺在监狱中的地板上死了。他的脸上流露着平静的笑容，好象在他临死的时候，他回顾过去的年华并未虚度，报仇大业已经如愿以偿了。
第二天傍晚，当我们闲谈着这件事情的时候，福尔摩斯说道：“葛莱森和雷斯垂德知道这个人死了，他们一定要起得发疯。这样一来，他们自吹自擂的本钱不就完蛋了吗？”
我回答说：“我看不出，他们两个人在捉拿凶手这件事上，究竟干了多少工作。”
我的伙伴尖酸地说道：“在这个世界上，你到底做了些什么，这倒不关紧要。要紧的是，你如何能够使人相信你做了些什么。"停了一会，他又轻松地说：“没关系。不管怎样，我也不会放过这件案子的。在我的记忆中，再没有比这件案子更为精采的了。它虽然简单，但是其中有几点却是值得深以为训的。”
“简单！"我情不自禁地叫了起来。
“是的，的确是简单。除此以外，很难用别的字眼来形容它。"歇洛克•福尔摩斯说。他看到我满脸惊讶的神色，不觉微笑了起来。“你想，没有任何人的帮助，只是经过一番寻常的推理，我居然在三天之内捉到了这个罪犯，这就证明案子实质上是非常简单的了。”
我说：“这倒是实在的。”
“我已经对你说过，凡是异乎寻常的事物，一般都不是什么阻碍，反而是一种线索。在解决这类问题时，最主要的事情就是能够用推理的方法，一层层地回溯推理。这是一种很有用的本领，而且也是很容易的，不过，人们在实践中却不常应用它。在日常生活中，向前推理的方法用处大些，因此人们也就往往容易忽略回溯推理这一层。如果说有五十个人能够从事务的各个方面加以综合推理的话，那么，能够用分析的方法推理的，不过是个把人而已。”
我说：“说老实话，我还不大明白你的意思。”
“我也很难指望你能够弄得清楚。让我试试看我是否能够把它说得更明确一些。大多数人都是这样的：如果你把一系列的事实对他们说明以后，他们就能把可能的结果告诉你，他们能够把这一系列事实在他们的脑子里联系起来，通过思考，就能得出个什么结果来了。但是，有少数的人，如果你把结果告诉了他们，他们就能通过他们内在的意识，推断出所以产生出这种结果的各个步骤是什么。这就是在我说到'回溯推理'或者'分析的方法'时，我所指的那种能力。”
我说：“我明白了。”
“现在这件案子就是一个例子，你只知道结果，其他一切必须全起你自己去发现了。好，现在让我把我在这个案件中进行推理的各个不同步骤尽量向你说明一下吧。我从头说起。正如你所知道的一样，我是步行到那座屋子去的。当时，我的思想中丝毫没有先入为主的成见。我自然要先从检查街道着手，就象我已经向你解释过的一样，我在街道上清清楚楚地看到了一辆马车车轮的痕迹。经过研究以后，我确定这个痕迹必定是夜间留下的。由于车轮之间距离较窄，因此我断定这是一辆出租的四轮马车，而不是自用马车，因为伦敦市上通常所有出租的四轮马车都要比自用马车狭窄一些。
“这就是我观察所得的第一点。接着，我就慢慢地走上了花园中的小路。碰巧，这条小路是一条粘土路，它特别容易留下迹印。毫无疑问，在你看起来，这条小路只不过是一条被人践踏得一塌胡涂的烂泥路而已。可是，在我这双久经锻炼的眼睛看来，小路上每个痕迹都是有它的意义的。侦探学所有各个部门中，再没有比足迹学这一门艺术更重要而又最易被人忽略的了。幸而我对于这门科学一向是十分重视的；经过多次实践以后，它已成为我的第二天性了。我看到了警察们的沉重的靴印，但是我也看到最初经过花园的那两个人的足迹。他们的足迹，比其他人的在先，这一点是很容易说明的；因为从一些地方可以看出，他们的足印被后来人的足印践踏，已经完全消失了。这样我的第二个环节就构成了。这个环节告诉我，夜间来客一共有两个，一个非常高大，这是我从他的步伐长度上推算出来的；另一个则是衣着入时，这是从他留下的小巧精致的靴印上判断出来的。
“走进屋子以后，这个推断立刻就得到了证实。那位穿着漂亮靴子的先生就躺在我的面前。如果这是一件谋杀案子的话，那么那个大高个子就是凶手。死者身上没有伤痕，但是从他脸上显露出来紧张、激动的表情，却使我深信在他临死之前，他已料到他的命运如何了。假如是由于心脏病，或者其他突然发生的自然死亡的人，在任何情况下，他们的面容上也决不会现出那种紧张激动的表情的。我嗅了一下死者的嘴唇，嗅出有点酸味，因此我就得出这样的结论：他是被迫服毒而死的。此外，从他脸上那种忿恨和害怕的神情看来，我才说他是被迫的。我就是利用这种淘汰一切不合理的假设的办法，终于得到了这个结论，因为其他任何假设都不能和这些事实吻合。你不要以为这是闻所未闻的妙论。强迫服毒在犯罪年鉴中的记载，绝不是一件新闻，任何毒物学家都会立刻想到敖德萨的多尔斯基一案和茂姆培利耶的雷吐里耶一案的。
“现在要谈谈'为什么'这个大问题了。谋杀的目的并不是为了抢劫，因为死者身上一点东西也没有短少。那么，这是一件政治性案件呢，还是一件情杀案呢？这就是我当时面临着的问题了。我的想法比较是起重后一个。因为在政治暗杀中，凶手一经得手，势必立即逃走。可是这件谋杀案恰恰相反，干得非常从容不起，而且凶手还在屋子里到处留下了他的足迹。这就说明，他自始至终一直是在现场的。因此，这就一定是一件仇杀案，而不是什么政治性的，只有仇杀案才需要采取这样处心积虑的报复手段的。当墙上的血字被发现后，我对我自己的这个见解也就更加深信不疑了。这是故布疑阵，一望便知。等到发现指环以后，问题就算确定了。很明显，凶手曾经利用这只指环使被害者回忆起某个已死的、或者是不在场的女人。关于这一点，我曾经问过葛莱森，在他拍往克利夫兰的电报中，是否问到锥伯过去的经历中有过任何突出的问题没有。你还可以记得，他当时回答说他没有问题。
“以后，我就开始把这间屋子进行了一番仔细的检查。检查结果，使我肯定认为凶手是个高个子，并且还发现了其他一些细节：例如印度雪茄烟，凶手的长指甲等等。因为屋中并没有揪打的迹象，因此当时又得出了这样的一个结论：地板上的血迹是凶手在他激动的时候流的鼻血。我发觉，凡是有血迹的地方，就有他的足迹。除非是个血液旺盛的人，一般很少有人会在感情激动时这样大量流血的。所以，我就大胆地认为，这个罪犯可能是个身强力壮的赤面人。后来事实果然证明了，我的判断是正确的。
“离开屋子以后，我就去做葛莱森疏忽未做的事了。我给克利夫兰警察局长拍了一个电报，仅仅询问有关伊瑙克•锥伯的婚姻问题，回电很明确。电报中说，锥伯曾经指控过一个叫做杰弗逊•侯波的旧日情敌，并且请求过法律保护，这个侯波目前正在欧洲。我当时就知道了，我已经掌握了这个秘密案件的线索了。剩下要做的就只是稳稳地捉住凶手了。
“我当时心中早已断定：和锥伯一同走进那个屋中去的不是别人，正是那个赶马车的。
“因为我从街道上的一些痕迹看出，拉车的马曾经随便行动过，如果有人驾御，是不可能有这种情况的。赶车的人要是不在这个屋中，那么，他又能到哪里去呢？还有一点，如果认为任何神经健全的人，会这样在一个肯定会泄露他的秘密的第三者的面前进行一桩蓄谋已久的罪行，这也太荒谬可笑了。最后一点，如果一个人要想在伦敦城中到处跟踪着另外一个人，除了做一个马车夫外，难道还有其他更好的办法吗？考虑了这些问题以后，我就得出这样一个必然的结论来：杰弗逊•侯波这个人，必须到首都的出租马车车夫当中去寻找。
“如果他曾是马车夫，就没有理由使人相信他会就此不干了。恰恰相反，从他那方面着想，突然改变工作反而更可能引仆人们对他的注意。他至少要在一段时间内，继续搞他的这个行业。如果认为他现在用的是一个化名，这也是没有道理的；在一个没有人知道他的真名实姓的国家里，他为什么要改名换姓呢？于是，我就把一些街头流浪儿组成了我的一支侦查连队，有步骤地派遣他们到伦敦城每家马车厂去打听，一直到他们找到了我所要找的这个人为止。他们干的有多么漂亮，我使用这支队伍又是多么迅速方便，这些你都还记得很清楚吧。至于谋杀斯坦节逊这一层，确实是一件完全没有意料到的事件。但是，这些意外事件，无论在什么情况下，都是很难避免的。你已经知道，在这个事件里，我找到了两枚药丸。我早就推想到一定会有这种东西存在的。你看，这件案子整个就是一条在逻辑上前后相连、毫无间断的链条。”
“真是妙极了！"我不禁叫了起来，“你的这些本领应当公布出来，让大家都知道一下。你应当发表这个案件。如果你不愿意的话，我来替你发表。”
“你愿意怎样办，就怎么办吧，医生，"他回答说，“你且看看这个！"他一面说着，一面递给我一张报纸，“看看这个！”
这是今天的一份《回声报》，他指的那一段正是报道我们所说的这个案件的。
报上这样说：由于侯波这个人突然死去，社会人士因而失去了一件耸人听闻的谈论资料。侯波是谋杀伊瑙克•锥伯先生和约瑟夫•斯坦节逊先生的嫌疑犯。虽然我们从有关当局获悉，这是一件由来已久的桃色纠纷犯罪案件，其中牵涉到爱情和摩门教等问题。但是这个案件的内幕实情，现在可能永远不会揭晓了。据悉，两个被害者年轻时曾经都是摩门教徒。已死的在押犯侯波，也是来自盐湖城的。如果说这个案件并无其他作用的话，至少它可以极为突出地说明我方警探破案之神速，并且足以使一切外国人等引以为戒；他们还是在他们本国之内解决他们的纠纷为妙，最好不要把这些纷争带到不列颠的国土上来。破案神速之功完全归于苏格兰场知名官员雷斯垂德和葛莱森两位先生，这已经是一件公开的秘密。据悉，凶手是在一位歇洛克•福尔摩斯先生的家中被捕的。歇洛克•福尔摩斯作为一个私家侦探，在探案方面也表现了一定的才能，他在这样的两位导师教诲之下，想来必能获得一定的成就。一般估计，这两位官员将荣膺某种奖赏，作为对于他们劳绩的表扬云云。
歇洛克•福尔摩斯大笑着说：“我开头不是这样对你说过吗？这就是咱们对血字研究的全部结果：给他们挣来了褒奖！”
我回答说：“不要紧，全部事实经过都记在我的笔记本里，社会上一定会知道真情实况的。这个案子既已破了，你也就该感到心满意足了，就象罗马守财奴所说的那样：
笑骂由你，我自为之；
家藏万贯，唯我独赏。”