“我倒以为……"我说。
“我应当这样做，"福尔摩斯急躁地说。
我自信是一个极有耐性的人；可是，我得承认，他这样嘲笑地打断我的话，的确使我有点不快。因此我严肃地说：“福尔摩斯，说真的，你有时真叫人有点难堪啊。”
他全神贯注地沉思，没有即刻回答我的。他一只手支着头，面前放着一口未尝的早餐，两眼凝视着刚从信封中抽出来的那张纸条，然后拿起信封 ，举到灯前，非常仔细地研究它的外观和封口。
“这是波尔洛克的笔迹，"他若有所思地说，“尽管我以前只见过两次波尔洛克的笔迹，我也毫不怀疑这小条就是他写的。希腊字母ε上端写成花体，这就是它的特色。不过，这要真是波尔洛克写的，那它就一定有极为重要的事了。”
他是在自言自语，而不是对我说的，可是这番话却引起了我的兴趣，使我的不快为之烟消云散。
“那么，波尔洛克是什么人呢？”
“华生，波尔洛克是个假名，它不过是一个人的身分符号而已；可是在它背后却是一个诡计多端、难以捉摸的人物。在前一封信里，他直言不讳地告诉我，这不是他的名字，并且公然向我指出，要想在这大都会的茫茫人海中去追踪他是徒劳无益的。波尔洛克之所以重要，并不在于他本身，而在于他所结交的那个大人物。你想想看，一条鲭鱼和一条鲨鱼，一只豺狼和一头狮子——总之，一个本身虽不是了不起的东西一旦和一个凶恶的怪物携起手来，那会怎么样呢？那怪物不仅凶恶，而且阴险至极。华生，据我看来，他就是这样一个怪物，你听说过有个莫里亚蒂教授吗？”
“那个著名的手段高超的罪犯，在贼党中的名声犹如……”
“别说外行话，华生，"福尔摩斯不赞成地嘟囔着。
“我是想说，犹如在公众中一样默默无闻。”
“妙！你真有过人的机灵！"福尔摩斯大声说道，“真没想到你说起话来也富有狡黠的幽默腔调呢。华生，这我可要小心提防着点呢。可是把莫里亚蒂叫做罪犯，从法律上讲，你却是公然诽谤——这正是奥妙之所在！他是古往今来最大的阴谋家，是一切恶行的总策划人，是的首脑，一个足以左右民族命运的智囊！他就是这样一个人。可是一般人对他却毫无怀疑，他从未受到任何指摘，他的善于处世为人和厌恶自我表现的风度又是那么令人钦佩。因此，就凭你说的这几句话，他就可以把你拖上法庭，罚你一年的年金去抵偿他的名誉损失。他不就是《小行星力学》这部书的驰名作者么？这部书上升到纯数学罕有的高度，据说科学界没有人能对它提出什么批评。这样的人，是可以中伤的么？信口雌黄的医生和受人诽谤的教授——这就是你们两人将分别得到的头衔！那可真是个天才呢，华生，可是，只要那些小爪牙弄不死我，我们就总有一天会得胜的。”
“但愿能看到这一天！"我热诚地欢呼道，“可是你刚才提到波尔洛克……”
“噢，不错，这个所谓的波尔洛克是整个链条中的一环，离它连接着的那个庞然大物并不远。波尔洛克不是十分坚固的一环——这只是咱俩之间这样说罢了。就我所能测到的来说，他是这个链条中唯一的薄弱环节。”
“可是一环薄弱，全局也不能坚固啊！”
“一点不错！我亲爱的华生。因此，波尔洛克就非常重要了。他还有点起码的正义感，我又偶尔暗地里送给他一张十镑的钞票，在这一点适当的鼓励下，他已经有一两次事先给我送来了有价值的消息，其所以很有价值，因为它能使我预见并防止某一罪行，而不是让我事后去惩办罪犯。我毫不怀疑，如果手头有密码，我们就能发现这正是我上面说过的那种信。”
福尔摩斯又把那张纸平铺在空盘子上，我站了起来，在他身后低头注视着那些稀奇古怪的文字，文字排列如下：
534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41
DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE
26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171
“福尔摩斯，你从这些字能得出什么结论呢？”
“很明显，这是想用来传达秘密消息的。”
“可是没有密码本，密码信又有什么用呢？”
“在这种情况下，是完全没有用的。”
“为什么你说'在这种情况下'呢？”
“因为有许多密码，在我读起来，就象读报纸通告栏里的山海经一样容易。那些简单的东西对人的智力来讲，只能使人感到有趣，而不感到厌倦。可是这次就不同了，它显然指的是某本书中某页上的某些词。只要不告诉我是在哪本书的哪一页上，那我就无能为力了。”
“那为什么又要道格拉斯（DOUGLAS）和伯尔斯通（BIRLSTONE）两个字呢？”
“显然是因为这本书上没有那两个字。”
“那他为什么不指出是哪本书呢？”
“亲爱的华生，你有天赋的机智、生来的狡黠，使你的朋友们都感到高兴；就凭这点机智，你也不至于把密码信和密码本放在同一信封里。因为信件一旦投递错了，那你就败露了。象现在这样，只有两封信都出了差错，才能出乱子。我们的第二封信现在已经该到了，如果未来的那封信里不给我们送来解释的文字，或者更可能的是，查阅这些符号的原书，那才使我奇怪呢。”
果然不出福尔摩斯所料，过了几分钟，小仆人毕利进来了，送来了我们所期待的那封信。
“笔迹相同，"福尔摩斯打开信封时说，"并且竟然签了名，"当他展开信笺的时候，兴高采烈地接着说，“喂，华生，咱们有进展了。"可是他看完信的内容以后，双眉又紧锁起来。
"哎呀，这可太使人失望啦！华生，恐怕我们的期待都要变成泡影了。但愿波尔洛克这个人不会遭到不幸。
'亲爱的福尔摩斯先生：
这件事我不愿再干下去了。这太危险了，他怀疑我了。我看得出来他怀疑我了。当我写完通信地址，打算把密码索引送给你时，他完全意想不到地来了。幸亏我把它盖住了。要是他看到了的话，那对我就非常不利了。可是我从他目光里看出不信任的神色来，请你把上次寄去的密码信烧了吧，那封信现在对你没有用处了。
弗莱德·波尔洛克'”
福尔摩斯用手指搓弄着这封信，坐了一会儿，皱着眉头，凝视着壁炉。
“也许这并没有什么。也许只不过是他作贼心虚罢了。他自觉是贼党中的叛逆者，所以可能从那个人的眼光里看出了谴责的神色。"福尔摩斯终于说道。
“那个人，我想就是莫里亚蒂教授吧。”
“一点不差！他们那一伙人，不管谁只要一提到'他'，都知道指的是谁。他们全体只有一个发号施令的'他'。”
“可是他又能怎么样呢？”
“哼！这倒是个大问题。当有一个欧洲第一流的智囊在与你作对，而他背后还有的一切势力，那就什么都可能发生了。不管怎么说，咱们的朋友波尔洛克显然是吓胡涂了——请你把信纸上的笔迹和信封上的比较一下看。这说明，信封上的字是那个人突然来访前写的，所以清楚而有力，可是信纸上的字就潦草得几乎看不清楚了。”
“那他何必写这封信呢？索性放下不管就算了。”
“因为他怕那样一来，我就会去追问他，给他找麻烦。”
“不错，"我说，“当然了，"我拿平原来用密码写的那封信，皱着眉头仔细看着，“明知这张纸上有重大秘密，可是又毫无办法去破译它，简直把人急疯了。”
歇洛克·福尔摩斯推开他一口没尝过的早餐，点着了索然乏味的烟斗，这是他默然沉思时的伴侣。"我很奇怪！"他把身子仰靠在椅背上，凝视着天花板，说道，“也许你那马基雅维里的才智，漏过了一些东西。让我们靠单纯推理来考虑一下①这个问题吧。这个人编写密码信的蓝本是一本书。咱们就从这点出发吧。”
“相当没把握的出发点啊。”
“那末让咱们看看能不能把范围缩小一点吧。当我把思想集中到它上面的时候，这件事就似乎不是那么莫测高深了。关于这本书，我们有什么可供查清的迹象没有呢？”
“一点也没有。”
“嗯，嗯，未必完全糟到这个地步。这封密码信，开始是一个大534，不是吗？我们可以假设，534是密码出处的页数。那么我们这本书就是一本很厚的书了。这样我们就多少有所进展了。关于这本厚书的种类，我们有些什么别的可以查明的迹象没有呢？第二个符号是C2，你看它是什么意思呢？华生。”①马基雅维里系意大利家兼历史学家。——译者注
“当然是说第二章了。"①
“不见得是这样，华生。我相信你会同意我的理由的：既然已经指出了页码，那章数就无关紧要了。再说，假如534页还在第二章，那第一章就一定长得令人吃不消了。”
“代表第几栏！”我喊道。②
①②英文的章为Chapter，栏为Column，均以字母"C"开头。——译者注
“高明，华生。今天早晨，你真是才华横溢呀。如果它不是第几栏，那我可就真是误入歧途了。所以现在你看，我们设想有一本很厚的书，每页分两栏排印，每一栏又相当长，因为在这信中，有一个词的标数是二百九十三。现在我们的推理是否到顶了呢？”
“恐怕是到顶了。”
“你太小看自己了，我亲爱的华生。让你的智慧再放一次光芒吧。再动一动脑筋看！如果这本书是一本不常见的书，他一定早已寄给我了。在他的计划遭到挫败以前，他没有把书寄给我，只是打算通过信件把线索告诉我。他在信中是这样说的。这就足以表明，这本书一定是他认为我自己不难找到的。他有这样一本，所以料想我也会有。总之，华生，这是一本很普通的书。”
“你的话听起来确实合情合理。”
“所以我们已经把探讨的范围缩小到一本厚书上了。书分两栏排印，并且是一本常用的书。”
“圣经！"我得意洋洋地大声说道。
“好，华生，好！可是，如果你不见怪的话，还不够十分好。即使我接受对我的赞扬，我也不会列举出一个莫里亚蒂党徒手边不大会有的书来。此外，《圣经》的版本那么多，很难设想两个版本页码都相同。这本书显然是版本统一的书。他知道他书上的534页肯定和我书上的534页完全相同。”
“可是符合这种条件的书却很少呢。”
“一点也不错，我们的出路恰恰就在这里。我们的查找范围又缩小到版本统一而又人人都会有的一本书了。”
“肖伯纳的著作！”
“华生，这还是有问题的。肖伯纳的文字洗炼而简洁，但词汇量有限。其词汇很难选择用来传递普通消息。我们还是把肖伯纳的著作排除吧。由于同样的理由，我看字典也不适合。那么还有什么书籍呢？”
“年鉴！”
“太好了，华生！如果你没有猜中要害，那我就大错特错了！一本年鉴！让我们来仔细考虑一下惠特克年鉴的条件吧。这是本常有的书。它有我们需要的那么多页数，分两栏排印，虽然开始词汇很简练，如果我没记错，它快到结尾时就很罗嗦了。"福尔摩斯从写字台上拿起这本书来，“这是第534页，第二栏，我看这是很长的一栏，是讨论英属印度的贸易和资源问题的。华生，请你把这些字记下来！第十三个字是'马拉塔'，我担心这不是一个吉利的开始，第一百二十七个字是'政府'，虽然这个字对我们和莫里亚蒂教授都有点离题，但至少还有点意义。现在我们再试试看。马拉塔政府做了些什么呢？哎呀，下一个字是'猪鬃'。我的好华生，咱们失败了！这下子算完了！”
他说话时虽然用的是开玩笑的语气，可是颤动的浓眉却反映出了内心的失望和恼怒。我也无可奈何闷闷不乐地坐在那里，凝视着炉火。忽然间，福尔摩斯的一声欢呼打破了长时间的沉默。他奔向书橱，从里面拿出第二本黄色封面的书来。
“华生，我们吃了太时新的亏了！"他大声说道，“咱们追求时髦，所以受到了应得的惩罚。今天是一月七号，我们非常及时地买了这本新年鉴。看来很可能波尔洛克是根据一本旧年鉴凑成他那封信的。毫无疑问，如果他把那封说明信写完的话，他一定会告诉我们这一点的。现在我们看看第534页都讲了些什么。第十三个字是‘There’，这就有希望得多了。第一百二十七个字里'is'——'There is'（两个字连起来，是'有'的意思——译者），"福尔摩斯兴奋得两眼发光，在他数一个个字的时候，他那细长而激动的手指不住地颤抖着，“‘danger’（'危险'——译者），哈！哈！好极了！华生，把它记下来。
‘There is danger—may—come—very—soon—one’（'有危险即将降临到某人身上'——译者），接下去是‘Douglas’（'道格拉斯'——译者）这个人名，再下面是'rich—country—now—at—Birl－stone House—Birlstone——confidence——is——pressin－g'。（'确信有危险即将降临到一个富绅道格拉斯身上，此人现住在伯尔斯通村伯尔斯通庄园，火急'——译者）。你看，华生！你觉得纯推理和它的成果如何？如果鲜货店有桂冠这种商品出售，我一定要叫毕利去买一顶来。”
福尔摩斯一面破译那密码，我一面在膝上把它草草记在一张大页书写纸上。我不禁全神贯注地凝视着这些奇怪的词句。
“他表达意思的方法是多么古怪而勉强啊。"我说道。
“恰恰相反，他干得简直太妙了，"福尔摩斯说道，“当你只在一栏文字里找那些用来表达你的意思的字眼时，你很难指望能找到你所需要的每个词。因此你也只好留下一些东西，让你的收信人靠他的智慧去理解了。这封信的意思，十分清楚。有些恶魔正在和一个叫道格拉斯的人作对，不管这个人是谁，信上说明他是一个富乡绅。他确信——他找不到‘Confident’（'确信'——译者）这个字，只能找到与它相近的字‘Confi dence’（'信任'——译者）来代替——事情已经万分紧急了。这就是我们的成果——而且是一点非常象样的分析工作呢！”
福尔摩斯好象一个真正的艺术家那样，即使在他没有达到自己孜孜以求的高标准而暗自失望的时候，对于自己比较好的工作成果还是会产生一种不带个人品见的欣喜的。当毕利推开门，把苏格兰场的警官麦克唐纳引进屋来时，福尔摩斯还在为自己的成绩而轻声发笑呢。
那还是早在十八世纪八十年代末的时候，亚历克·麦克唐纳还没有象现在这样名噪全国。他那时还是个青年，可是，由于他经手的案子都办得很出色，因而在侦探界已经成为深受信赖的一员了。他身材高大，体形健壮，使人一看就知道具有过人的体力；他那巨大的头盖骨和一双深陷而炯炯有神的眼睛，更清楚地说明他有敏锐的智力，这种机智就从他那两道浓眉下闪烁出来。他是一个沉默寡言、一丝不苟的人，性格倔强，带有很重的阿伯丁港的口音。
福尔摩斯已经帮他办了两起案子，均告成功。而福尔摩斯自己所得到的唯一酬劳，就是享受用智力去解决疑难的快乐。因此，这个苏格兰人对他的业余同行非常热爱和尊敬，这表现在，每逢他有什么困难，就老老实实地来向福尔摩斯求教。一个平庸的人看不到比自己高明的东西，但是一个有才能的人却能立即认出别人的天才来。麦克唐纳很有才干，他深知向福尔摩斯求援并不有辱身分，因为福尔摩斯无论在才能上和经验上，都已经是欧洲独一无二的侦探了。福尔摩斯不善交游，可是他对这个高大的苏格兰人却并不讨厌，每见麦克唐纳，他总是面带微笑。
“你真来得早，麦克先生，"福尔摩斯说，“祝你顺利，我担心又有什么案件发生了吧？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我想，如果你不说'担心'，而是说'希望'，倒还更近情理些。"这个警官会心地微笑着回答，“好，一小口酒就可以驱走清早阴冷的寒气。谢谢你，我不抽烟。我不得不赶路，因为一件案子发生后，最初的时刻是最珍贵的，这一点你是最清楚不过了，不过……不过……”
警官突然停下来，非常惊异地凝视着桌上的一页纸。这是我草草记下密码信的那张纸。
“道格拉斯！"他结结巴巴地说，“伯尔斯通！这是怎么回事？福尔摩斯先生。哎呀，这简直是在变魔术了！你到底从哪儿搞到这两个名字的？”
“这是华生医生和我两个人偶然从一封密码信中破译出来的。可是怎么，这两个名字出什么岔子了吗？”
警官茫然不解、目瞪口呆地看看我，看看福尔摩斯。“正是这样，"他说，“伯尔斯通庄园的道格拉斯先生今天早晨被人惨杀了！”
"I should do so," Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.
I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but I'll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. "Really, Holmes," said I severely, "you are a little trying at times."
He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the flap.
"It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully. "I can hardly doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the very first importance."
He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation disappeared in the interest which the words awakened.
"Who then is Porlock?" I asked.
"Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion--anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: not only formidable, Watson, but sinister--in the highest degree sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?"
"The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as--"
"My blushes, Watson!" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice.
"I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public."
"A touch! A distinct touch!" cried Holmes. "You are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law--and there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations--that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor--such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men, our day will surely come."
"May I be there to see!" I exclaimed devoutly. "But you were speaking of this man Porlock."
"Ah, yes--the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link--between ourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able to test it."
"But no chain is stronger than its weakest link."
"Exactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged by the judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him by devious methods, he has once or twice given me advance information which has been of value--that highest value which anticipates and prevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we had the cipher, we should find that this communication is of the nature that I indicate."
Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and, leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran as follows:
534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41 DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE 26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171
"What do you make of it, Holmes?"
"It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information."
"But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?"
"In this instance, none at all."
"Why do you say 'in this instance'?"
"Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I do the apocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices amuse the intelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly a reference to the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which page and which book I am powerless."
"But why 'Douglas' and 'Birlstone'?"
"Clearly because those are words which were not contained in the page in question."
"Then why has he not indicated the book?"
"Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from inclosing cipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry, you are undone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it. Our second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does not bring us either a further letter of explanation, or, as is more probable, the very volume to which these figures refer."
Holmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by the appearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we were expecting.
"The same writing," remarked Holmes, as he opened the envelope, "and actually signed," he added in an exultant voice as he unfolded the epistle. "Come, we are getting on, Watson." His brow clouded, however, as he glanced over the contents.
"Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all our expectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to no harm.
"DEAR MR. HOLMES (he says):
"I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous--he suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you.
FRED PORLOCK."
Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his fingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire.
"After all," he said at last, "there may be nothing in it. It may be only his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have read the accusation in the other's eyes."
"The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty."
"No less! When any of that party talk about 'He' you know whom they mean. There is one predominant 'He' for all of them."
"But what can he do?"
"Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the first brains of Europe up against you, and all the powers of darkness at his back, there are infinite possibilities. Anyhow, Friend Porlock is evidently scared out of his senses--kindly compare the writing in the note to that upon its envelope; which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. The one is clear and firm. The other hardly legible."
"Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?"
"Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case, and possibly bring trouble on him."
"No doubt," said I. "Of course." I had picked up the original cipher message and was bending my brows over it. "It's pretty maddening to think that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and that it is beyond human power to penetrate it."
Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit the unsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations. "I wonder!" said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Perhaps there are points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect. Let us consider the problem in the light of pure reason. This man's reference is to a book. That is our point of departure."
"A somewhat vague one."
"Let us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it, it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to this book?"
"None."
"Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?"
"Chapter the second, no doubt."
"Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable."
"Column!" I cried.
"Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is not column, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin to visualize a large book printed in double columns which are each of a considerable length, since one of the words is numbered in the document as the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of what reason can supply?"
"I fear that we have."
"Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dear Watson--yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been an unusual one, he would have sent it to me. Instead of that, he had intended, before his plans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so in his note. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he thought I would have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it--and he imagined that I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book."
"What you say certainly sounds plausible."
"So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed in double columns and in common use."
"The Bible!" I cried triumphantly.
"Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough! Even if I accepted the compliment for myself I could hardly name any volume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriarty's associates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that he could hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination. This is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that his page 534 will exactly agree with my page 534."
"But very few books would correspond with that."
"Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down to standardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess."
"Bradshaw!"
"There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervous and terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself to the sending of general messages. We will eliminate Bradshaw. The dictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What then is left?"
"An almanac!"
"Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touched the spot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of Whitaker's Almanac. It is in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in double column. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I remember right, quite garrulous towards the end." He picked the volume from his desk. "Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of print dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. Jot down the words, Watson! Number thirteen is 'Mahratta.' Not, I fear, a very auspicious beginning. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is 'Government'; which at least makes sense, though somewhat irrelevant to ourselves and Professor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What does the Mahratta government do? Alas! the next word is 'pig's-bristles.' We are undone, my good Watson! It is finished!"
He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrows bespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy, staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden exclamation from Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with a second yellow-covered volume in his hand.
"We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!" he cried. "We are before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh of January, we have very properly laid in the new almanac. It is more than likely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he would have told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us see what page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is 'There,' which is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is 'is'--'There is' "--Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words-- "'danger.' Ha! Ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. 'There is danger--may--come--very--soon--one.' Then we have the name 'Douglas'--'rich--country--now--at--Birlstone--House--Birlstone-- confidence--is--pressing.' There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it."
I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.
"What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" said I.
"On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well," said Holmes. "When you search a single column for words with which to express your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one Douglas, whoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He is sure--'confidence' was as near as he could get to 'confident'--that it is pressing. There is our result--and a very workmanlike little bit of analysis it was!"
Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, even as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he aspired. He was still chuckling over his success when Billy swung open the door and Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ushered into the room.
Those were the early days at the end of the '80's, when Alec MacDonald was far from having attained the national fame which he has now achieved. He was a young but trusted member of the detective force, who had distinguished himself in several cases which had been intrusted to him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of exceptional physical strength, while his great cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no less clearly of the keen intelligence which twinkled out from behind his bushy eyebrows. He was a silent, precise man with a dour nature and a hard Aberdonian accent.
Twice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain success, his own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the problem. For this reason the affection and respect of the Scotchman for his amateur colleague were profound, and he showed them by the frankness with which he consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald had talent enough for his profession to enable him to perceive that there was no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already stood alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him.
"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."
"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a knowing grin. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, I won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious ones, as no man knows better than your own self. But--but--"
The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look of absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the sheet upon which I had scrawled the enigmatic message.
"Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you get those names?"
"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. But why--what's amiss with the names?"
The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment. "Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was horribly murdered last night!"
“我应当这样做，"福尔摩斯急躁地说。
我自信是一个极有耐性的人；可是，我得承认，他这样嘲笑地打断我的话，的确使我有点不快。因此我严肃地说：“福尔摩斯，说真的，你有时真叫人有点难堪啊。”
他全神贯注地沉思，没有即刻回答我的。他一只手支着头，面前放着一口未尝的早餐，两眼凝视着刚从信封中抽出来的那张纸条，然后拿起信封 ，举到灯前，非常仔细地研究它的外观和封口。
“这是波尔洛克的笔迹，"他若有所思地说，“尽管我以前只见过两次波尔洛克的笔迹，我也毫不怀疑这小条就是他写的。希腊字母ε上端写成花体，这就是它的特色。不过，这要真是波尔洛克写的，那它就一定有极为重要的事了。”
他是在自言自语，而不是对我说的，可是这番话却引起了我的兴趣，使我的不快为之烟消云散。
“那么，波尔洛克是什么人呢？”
“华生，波尔洛克是个假名，它不过是一个人的身分符号而已；可是在它背后却是一个诡计多端、难以捉摸的人物。在前一封信里，他直言不讳地告诉我，这不是他的名字，并且公然向我指出，要想在这大都会的茫茫人海中去追踪他是徒劳无益的。波尔洛克之所以重要，并不在于他本身，而在于他所结交的那个大人物。你想想看，一条鲭鱼和一条鲨鱼，一只豺狼和一头狮子——总之，一个本身虽不是了不起的东西一旦和一个凶恶的怪物携起手来，那会怎么样呢？那怪物不仅凶恶，而且阴险至极。华生，据我看来，他就是这样一个怪物，你听说过有个莫里亚蒂教授吗？”
“那个著名的手段高超的罪犯，在贼党中的名声犹如……”
“别说外行话，华生，"福尔摩斯不赞成地嘟囔着。
“我是想说，犹如在公众中一样默默无闻。”
“妙！你真有过人的机灵！"福尔摩斯大声说道，“真没想到你说起话来也富有狡黠的幽默腔调呢。华生，这我可要小心提防着点呢。可是把莫里亚蒂叫做罪犯，从法律上讲，你却是公然诽谤——这正是奥妙之所在！他是古往今来最大的阴谋家，是一切恶行的总策划人，是的首脑，一个足以左右民族命运的智囊！他就是这样一个人。可是一般人对他却毫无怀疑，他从未受到任何指摘，他的善于处世为人和厌恶自我表现的风度又是那么令人钦佩。因此，就凭你说的这几句话，他就可以把你拖上法庭，罚你一年的年金去抵偿他的名誉损失。他不就是《小行星力学》这部书的驰名作者么？这部书上升到纯数学罕有的高度，据说科学界没有人能对它提出什么批评。这样的人，是可以中伤的么？信口雌黄的医生和受人诽谤的教授——这就是你们两人将分别得到的头衔！那可真是个天才呢，华生，可是，只要那些小爪牙弄不死我，我们就总有一天会得胜的。”
“但愿能看到这一天！"我热诚地欢呼道，“可是你刚才提到波尔洛克……”
“噢，不错，这个所谓的波尔洛克是整个链条中的一环，离它连接着的那个庞然大物并不远。波尔洛克不是十分坚固的一环——这只是咱俩之间这样说罢了。就我所能测到的来说，他是这个链条中唯一的薄弱环节。”
“可是一环薄弱，全局也不能坚固啊！”
“一点不错！我亲爱的华生。因此，波尔洛克就非常重要了。他还有点起码的正义感，我又偶尔暗地里送给他一张十镑的钞票，在这一点适当的鼓励下，他已经有一两次事先给我送来了有价值的消息，其所以很有价值，因为它能使我预见并防止某一罪行，而不是让我事后去惩办罪犯。我毫不怀疑，如果手头有密码，我们就能发现这正是我上面说过的那种信。”
福尔摩斯又把那张纸平铺在空盘子上，我站了起来，在他身后低头注视着那些稀奇古怪的文字，文字排列如下：
534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41
DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE
26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171
“福尔摩斯，你从这些字能得出什么结论呢？”
“很明显，这是想用来传达秘密消息的。”
“可是没有密码本，密码信又有什么用呢？”
“在这种情况下，是完全没有用的。”
“为什么你说'在这种情况下'呢？”
“因为有许多密码，在我读起来，就象读报纸通告栏里的山海经一样容易。那些简单的东西对人的智力来讲，只能使人感到有趣，而不感到厌倦。可是这次就不同了，它显然指的是某本书中某页上的某些词。只要不告诉我是在哪本书的哪一页上，那我就无能为力了。”
“那为什么又要道格拉斯（DOUGLAS）和伯尔斯通（BIRLSTONE）两个字呢？”
“显然是因为这本书上没有那两个字。”
“那他为什么不指出是哪本书呢？”
“亲爱的华生，你有天赋的机智、生来的狡黠，使你的朋友们都感到高兴；就凭这点机智，你也不至于把密码信和密码本放在同一信封里。因为信件一旦投递错了，那你就败露了。象现在这样，只有两封信都出了差错，才能出乱子。我们的第二封信现在已经该到了，如果未来的那封信里不给我们送来解释的文字，或者更可能的是，查阅这些符号的原书，那才使我奇怪呢。”
果然不出福尔摩斯所料，过了几分钟，小仆人毕利进来了，送来了我们所期待的那封信。
“笔迹相同，"福尔摩斯打开信封时说，"并且竟然签了名，"当他展开信笺的时候，兴高采烈地接着说，“喂，华生，咱们有进展了。"可是他看完信的内容以后，双眉又紧锁起来。
"哎呀，这可太使人失望啦！华生，恐怕我们的期待都要变成泡影了。但愿波尔洛克这个人不会遭到不幸。
'亲爱的福尔摩斯先生：
这件事我不愿再干下去了。这太危险了，他怀疑我了。我看得出来他怀疑我了。当我写完通信地址，打算把密码索引送给你时，他完全意想不到地来了。幸亏我把它盖住了。要是他看到了的话，那对我就非常不利了。可是我从他目光里看出不信任的神色来，请你把上次寄去的密码信烧了吧，那封信现在对你没有用处了。
弗莱德·波尔洛克'”
福尔摩斯用手指搓弄着这封信，坐了一会儿，皱着眉头，凝视着壁炉。
“也许这并没有什么。也许只不过是他作贼心虚罢了。他自觉是贼党中的叛逆者，所以可能从那个人的眼光里看出了谴责的神色。"福尔摩斯终于说道。
“那个人，我想就是莫里亚蒂教授吧。”
“一点不差！他们那一伙人，不管谁只要一提到'他'，都知道指的是谁。他们全体只有一个发号施令的'他'。”
“可是他又能怎么样呢？”
“哼！这倒是个大问题。当有一个欧洲第一流的智囊在与你作对，而他背后还有的一切势力，那就什么都可能发生了。不管怎么说，咱们的朋友波尔洛克显然是吓胡涂了——请你把信纸上的笔迹和信封上的比较一下看。这说明，信封上的字是那个人突然来访前写的，所以清楚而有力，可是信纸上的字就潦草得几乎看不清楚了。”
“那他何必写这封信呢？索性放下不管就算了。”
“因为他怕那样一来，我就会去追问他，给他找麻烦。”
“不错，"我说，“当然了，"我拿平原来用密码写的那封信，皱着眉头仔细看着，“明知这张纸上有重大秘密，可是又毫无办法去破译它，简直把人急疯了。”
歇洛克·福尔摩斯推开他一口没尝过的早餐，点着了索然乏味的烟斗，这是他默然沉思时的伴侣。"我很奇怪！"他把身子仰靠在椅背上，凝视着天花板，说道，“也许你那马基雅维里的才智，漏过了一些东西。让我们靠单纯推理来考虑一下①这个问题吧。这个人编写密码信的蓝本是一本书。咱们就从这点出发吧。”
“相当没把握的出发点啊。”
“那末让咱们看看能不能把范围缩小一点吧。当我把思想集中到它上面的时候，这件事就似乎不是那么莫测高深了。关于这本书，我们有什么可供查清的迹象没有呢？”
“一点也没有。”
“嗯，嗯，未必完全糟到这个地步。这封密码信，开始是一个大534，不是吗？我们可以假设，534是密码出处的页数。那么我们这本书就是一本很厚的书了。这样我们就多少有所进展了。关于这本厚书的种类，我们有些什么别的可以查明的迹象没有呢？第二个符号是C2，你看它是什么意思呢？华生。”①马基雅维里系意大利家兼历史学家。——译者注
“当然是说第二章了。"①
“不见得是这样，华生。我相信你会同意我的理由的：既然已经指出了页码，那章数就无关紧要了。再说，假如534页还在第二章，那第一章就一定长得令人吃不消了。”
“代表第几栏！”我喊道。②
①②英文的章为Chapter，栏为Column，均以字母"C"开头。——译者注
“高明，华生。今天早晨，你真是才华横溢呀。如果它不是第几栏，那我可就真是误入歧途了。所以现在你看，我们设想有一本很厚的书，每页分两栏排印，每一栏又相当长，因为在这信中，有一个词的标数是二百九十三。现在我们的推理是否到顶了呢？”
“恐怕是到顶了。”
“你太小看自己了，我亲爱的华生。让你的智慧再放一次光芒吧。再动一动脑筋看！如果这本书是一本不常见的书，他一定早已寄给我了。在他的计划遭到挫败以前，他没有把书寄给我，只是打算通过信件把线索告诉我。他在信中是这样说的。这就足以表明，这本书一定是他认为我自己不难找到的。他有这样一本，所以料想我也会有。总之，华生，这是一本很普通的书。”
“你的话听起来确实合情合理。”
“所以我们已经把探讨的范围缩小到一本厚书上了。书分两栏排印，并且是一本常用的书。”
“圣经！"我得意洋洋地大声说道。
“好，华生，好！可是，如果你不见怪的话，还不够十分好。即使我接受对我的赞扬，我也不会列举出一个莫里亚蒂党徒手边不大会有的书来。此外，《圣经》的版本那么多，很难设想两个版本页码都相同。这本书显然是版本统一的书。他知道他书上的534页肯定和我书上的534页完全相同。”
“可是符合这种条件的书却很少呢。”
“一点也不错，我们的出路恰恰就在这里。我们的查找范围又缩小到版本统一而又人人都会有的一本书了。”
“肖伯纳的著作！”
“华生，这还是有问题的。肖伯纳的文字洗炼而简洁，但词汇量有限。其词汇很难选择用来传递普通消息。我们还是把肖伯纳的著作排除吧。由于同样的理由，我看字典也不适合。那么还有什么书籍呢？”
“年鉴！”
“太好了，华生！如果你没有猜中要害，那我就大错特错了！一本年鉴！让我们来仔细考虑一下惠特克年鉴的条件吧。这是本常有的书。它有我们需要的那么多页数，分两栏排印，虽然开始词汇很简练，如果我没记错，它快到结尾时就很罗嗦了。"福尔摩斯从写字台上拿起这本书来，“这是第534页，第二栏，我看这是很长的一栏，是讨论英属印度的贸易和资源问题的。华生，请你把这些字记下来！第十三个字是'马拉塔'，我担心这不是一个吉利的开始，第一百二十七个字是'政府'，虽然这个字对我们和莫里亚蒂教授都有点离题，但至少还有点意义。现在我们再试试看。马拉塔政府做了些什么呢？哎呀，下一个字是'猪鬃'。我的好华生，咱们失败了！这下子算完了！”
他说话时虽然用的是开玩笑的语气，可是颤动的浓眉却反映出了内心的失望和恼怒。我也无可奈何闷闷不乐地坐在那里，凝视着炉火。忽然间，福尔摩斯的一声欢呼打破了长时间的沉默。他奔向书橱，从里面拿出第二本黄色封面的书来。
“华生，我们吃了太时新的亏了！"他大声说道，“咱们追求时髦，所以受到了应得的惩罚。今天是一月七号，我们非常及时地买了这本新年鉴。看来很可能波尔洛克是根据一本旧年鉴凑成他那封信的。毫无疑问，如果他把那封说明信写完的话，他一定会告诉我们这一点的。现在我们看看第534页都讲了些什么。第十三个字是‘There’，这就有希望得多了。第一百二十七个字里'is'——'There is'（两个字连起来，是'有'的意思——译者），"福尔摩斯兴奋得两眼发光，在他数一个个字的时候，他那细长而激动的手指不住地颤抖着，“‘danger’（'危险'——译者），哈！哈！好极了！华生，把它记下来。
‘There is danger—may—come—very—soon—one’（'有危险即将降临到某人身上'——译者），接下去是‘Douglas’（'道格拉斯'——译者）这个人名，再下面是'rich—country—now—at—Birl－stone House—Birlstone——confidence——is——pressin－g'。（'确信有危险即将降临到一个富绅道格拉斯身上，此人现住在伯尔斯通村伯尔斯通庄园，火急'——译者）。你看，华生！你觉得纯推理和它的成果如何？如果鲜货店有桂冠这种商品出售，我一定要叫毕利去买一顶来。”
福尔摩斯一面破译那密码，我一面在膝上把它草草记在一张大页书写纸上。我不禁全神贯注地凝视着这些奇怪的词句。
“他表达意思的方法是多么古怪而勉强啊。"我说道。
“恰恰相反，他干得简直太妙了，"福尔摩斯说道，“当你只在一栏文字里找那些用来表达你的意思的字眼时，你很难指望能找到你所需要的每个词。因此你也只好留下一些东西，让你的收信人靠他的智慧去理解了。这封信的意思，十分清楚。有些恶魔正在和一个叫道格拉斯的人作对，不管这个人是谁，信上说明他是一个富乡绅。他确信——他找不到‘Confident’（'确信'——译者）这个字，只能找到与它相近的字‘Confi dence’（'信任'——译者）来代替——事情已经万分紧急了。这就是我们的成果——而且是一点非常象样的分析工作呢！”
福尔摩斯好象一个真正的艺术家那样，即使在他没有达到自己孜孜以求的高标准而暗自失望的时候，对于自己比较好的工作成果还是会产生一种不带个人品见的欣喜的。当毕利推开门，把苏格兰场的警官麦克唐纳引进屋来时，福尔摩斯还在为自己的成绩而轻声发笑呢。
那还是早在十八世纪八十年代末的时候，亚历克·麦克唐纳还没有象现在这样名噪全国。他那时还是个青年，可是，由于他经手的案子都办得很出色，因而在侦探界已经成为深受信赖的一员了。他身材高大，体形健壮，使人一看就知道具有过人的体力；他那巨大的头盖骨和一双深陷而炯炯有神的眼睛，更清楚地说明他有敏锐的智力，这种机智就从他那两道浓眉下闪烁出来。他是一个沉默寡言、一丝不苟的人，性格倔强，带有很重的阿伯丁港的口音。
福尔摩斯已经帮他办了两起案子，均告成功。而福尔摩斯自己所得到的唯一酬劳，就是享受用智力去解决疑难的快乐。因此，这个苏格兰人对他的业余同行非常热爱和尊敬，这表现在，每逢他有什么困难，就老老实实地来向福尔摩斯求教。一个平庸的人看不到比自己高明的东西，但是一个有才能的人却能立即认出别人的天才来。麦克唐纳很有才干，他深知向福尔摩斯求援并不有辱身分，因为福尔摩斯无论在才能上和经验上，都已经是欧洲独一无二的侦探了。福尔摩斯不善交游，可是他对这个高大的苏格兰人却并不讨厌，每见麦克唐纳，他总是面带微笑。
“你真来得早，麦克先生，"福尔摩斯说，“祝你顺利，我担心又有什么案件发生了吧？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我想，如果你不说'担心'，而是说'希望'，倒还更近情理些。"这个警官会心地微笑着回答，“好，一小口酒就可以驱走清早阴冷的寒气。谢谢你，我不抽烟。我不得不赶路，因为一件案子发生后，最初的时刻是最珍贵的，这一点你是最清楚不过了，不过……不过……”
警官突然停下来，非常惊异地凝视着桌上的一页纸。这是我草草记下密码信的那张纸。
“道格拉斯！"他结结巴巴地说，“伯尔斯通！这是怎么回事？福尔摩斯先生。哎呀，这简直是在变魔术了！你到底从哪儿搞到这两个名字的？”
“这是华生医生和我两个人偶然从一封密码信中破译出来的。可是怎么，这两个名字出什么岔子了吗？”
警官茫然不解、目瞪口呆地看看我，看看福尔摩斯。“正是这样，"他说，“伯尔斯通庄园的道格拉斯先生今天早晨被人惨杀了！”
"I should do so," Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.
I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but I'll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. "Really, Holmes," said I severely, "you are a little trying at times."
He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the flap.
"It is Porlock's writing," said he thoughtfully. "I can hardly doubt that it is Porlock's writing, though I have seen it only twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the very first importance."
He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation disappeared in the interest which the words awakened.
"Who then is Porlock?" I asked.
"Porlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion--anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: not only formidable, Watson, but sinister--in the highest degree sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?"
"The famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks as--"
"My blushes, Watson!" Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice.
"I was about to say, as he is unknown to the public."
"A touch! A distinct touch!" cried Holmes. "You are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law--and there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations--that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor--such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men, our day will surely come."
"May I be there to see!" I exclaimed devoutly. "But you were speaking of this man Porlock."
"Ah, yes--the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link--between ourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able to test it."
"But no chain is stronger than its weakest link."
"Exactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged by the judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him by devious methods, he has once or twice given me advance information which has been of value--that highest value which anticipates and prevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we had the cipher, we should find that this communication is of the nature that I indicate."
Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and, leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran as follows:
534 C2 13 127 36 31 4 17 21 41 DOUGLAS 109 293 5 37 BIRLSTONE 26 BIRLSTONE 9 47 171
"What do you make of it, Holmes?"
"It is obviously an attempt to convey secret information."
"But what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?"
"In this instance, none at all."
"Why do you say 'in this instance'?"
"Because there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I do the apocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices amuse the intelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly a reference to the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which page and which book I am powerless."
"But why 'Douglas' and 'Birlstone'?"
"Clearly because those are words which were not contained in the page in question."
"Then why has he not indicated the book?"
"Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from inclosing cipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry, you are undone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it. Our second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does not bring us either a further letter of explanation, or, as is more probable, the very volume to which these figures refer."
Holmes's calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by the appearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we were expecting.
"The same writing," remarked Holmes, as he opened the envelope, "and actually signed," he added in an exultant voice as he unfolded the epistle. "Come, we are getting on, Watson." His brow clouded, however, as he glanced over the contents.
"Dear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all our expectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to no harm.
"DEAR MR. HOLMES (he says):
"I will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous--he suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you.
FRED PORLOCK."
Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his fingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire.
"After all," he said at last, "there may be nothing in it. It may be only his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have read the accusation in the other's eyes."
"The other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty."
"No less! When any of that party talk about 'He' you know whom they mean. There is one predominant 'He' for all of them."
"But what can he do?"
"Hum! That's a large question. When you have one of the first brains of Europe up against you, and all the powers of darkness at his back, there are infinite possibilities. Anyhow, Friend Porlock is evidently scared out of his senses--kindly compare the writing in the note to that upon its envelope; which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. The one is clear and firm. The other hardly legible."
"Why did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?"
"Because he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case, and possibly bring trouble on him."
"No doubt," said I. "Of course." I had picked up the original cipher message and was bending my brows over it. "It's pretty maddening to think that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and that it is beyond human power to penetrate it."
Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit the unsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations. "I wonder!" said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Perhaps there are points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect. Let us consider the problem in the light of pure reason. This man's reference is to a book. That is our point of departure."
"A somewhat vague one."
"Let us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it, it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to this book?"
"None."
"Well, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?"
"Chapter the second, no doubt."
"Hardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable."
"Column!" I cried.
"Brilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is not column, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin to visualize a large book printed in double columns which are each of a considerable length, since one of the words is numbered in the document as the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of what reason can supply?"
"I fear that we have."
"Surely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dear Watson--yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been an unusual one, he would have sent it to me. Instead of that, he had intended, before his plans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so in his note. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he thought I would have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it--and he imagined that I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book."
"What you say certainly sounds plausible."
"So we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed in double columns and in common use."
"The Bible!" I cried triumphantly.
"Good, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough! Even if I accepted the compliment for myself I could hardly name any volume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriarty's associates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that he could hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination. This is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that his page 534 will exactly agree with my page 534."
"But very few books would correspond with that."
"Exactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down to standardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess."
"Bradshaw!"
"There are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervous and terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself to the sending of general messages. We will eliminate Bradshaw. The dictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What then is left?"
"An almanac!"
"Excellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touched the spot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of Whitaker's Almanac. It is in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in double column. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I remember right, quite garrulous towards the end." He picked the volume from his desk. "Here is page 534, column two, a substantial block of print dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. Jot down the words, Watson! Number thirteen is 'Mahratta.' Not, I fear, a very auspicious beginning. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is 'Government'; which at least makes sense, though somewhat irrelevant to ourselves and Professor Moriarty. Now let us try again. What does the Mahratta government do? Alas! the next word is 'pig's-bristles.' We are undone, my good Watson! It is finished!"
He had spoken in jesting vein, but the twitching of his bushy eyebrows bespoke his disappointment and irritation. I sat helpless and unhappy, staring into the fire. A long silence was broken by a sudden exclamation from Holmes, who dashed at a cupboard, from which he emerged with a second yellow-covered volume in his hand.
"We pay the price, Watson, for being too up-to-date!" he cried. "We are before our time, and suffer the usual penalties. Being the seventh of January, we have very properly laid in the new almanac. It is more than likely that Porlock took his message from the old one. No doubt he would have told us so had his letter of explanation been written. Now let us see what page 534 has in store for us. Number thirteen is 'There,' which is much more promising. Number one hundred and twenty-seven is 'is'--'There is' "--Holmes's eyes were gleaming with excitement, and his thin, nervous fingers twitched as he counted the words-- "'danger.' Ha! Ha! Capital! Put that down, Watson. 'There is danger--may--come--very--soon--one.' Then we have the name 'Douglas'--'rich--country--now--at--Birlstone--House--Birlstone-- confidence--is--pressing.' There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its fruit? If the green-grocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should send Billy round for it."
I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.
"What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" said I.
"On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well," said Holmes. "When you search a single column for words with which to express your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent. The purport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one Douglas, whoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country gentleman. He is sure--'confidence' was as near as he could get to 'confident'--that it is pressing. There is our result--and a very workmanlike little bit of analysis it was!"
Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, even as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he aspired. He was still chuckling over his success when Billy swung open the door and Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ushered into the room.
Those were the early days at the end of the '80's, when Alec MacDonald was far from having attained the national fame which he has now achieved. He was a young but trusted member of the detective force, who had distinguished himself in several cases which had been intrusted to him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of exceptional physical strength, while his great cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes spoke no less clearly of the keen intelligence which twinkled out from behind his bushy eyebrows. He was a silent, precise man with a dour nature and a hard Aberdonian accent.
Twice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain success, his own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the problem. For this reason the affection and respect of the Scotchman for his amateur colleague were profound, and he showed them by the frankness with which he consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald had talent enough for his profession to enable him to perceive that there was no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already stood alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him.
"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."
"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a knowing grin. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, I won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious ones, as no man knows better than your own self. But--but--"
The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look of absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the sheet upon which I had scrawled the enigmatic message.
"Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you get those names?"
"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. But why--what's amiss with the names?"
The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment. "Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was horribly murdered last night!"
这又是一个富于戏剧性的时刻，我的朋友就是为这样的时刻而生的。如果说这个惊人的消息使他吃了一惊，或者说哪怕使他有所激动，那都言过其实了。尽管在他的癖性中不存在残忍的成分，可是由于长期过度兴奋，他无疑变得冷漠起来。然而，他的感情固然淡漠了，他的理智的洞察力却极端的敏锐。这个简短的消息使我感到恐怖，可是福尔摩斯却丝毫不露声色，他的脸上显得颇为镇静而沉着，正象一个化学家看到结晶体从过饱和溶液里分离出来一样。
“意外！意外！"他说。
“看来你并不感到吃惊啊！”
“麦克先生，这只不过是引起了我的注意罢了，决不是吃惊。我为什么要吃惊呢？我从某方面接到一封匿名信并知道这封信非常重要。它警告我说危险正威胁着某个人。一小时之内，我得知这个危险已成为现实，而那个人已经死了。正象你看到的那样 ，它引起了我的注意，可我并不吃惊。”
他把这封信和密码的来由向那警官简单讲了一遍。麦克唐纳双手托着下巴坐着，两道淡茶色的浓眉蹙成一团。
“今天早晨我本来是要到伯尔斯通去的，"麦克唐纳说，
“我来的目的就是问一下你和你的这位朋友是否愿意和我一起去。不过，从你刚才的话来看，我们在伦敦也许能办得更好些。”
“我倒不这样想，"福尔摩斯说。
“真是活见鬼了！福尔摩斯先生，"警官大声喊道，“一两天内，报上就该登满'伯尔斯通之谜'了。可是既然在罪行还没有发生以前，已经有人在伦敦预料到了，那还算得上什么谜呢？我们只要捉住这个人，其余的一切就迎刃而解了。”
“这是毫无疑问的，麦克先生。可是你打算怎样去捉住这个所谓的波尔洛克呢？”
麦克唐纳把福尔摩斯递给他的那封信翻过来说：“是从坎伯韦尔投寄的——这对我们也没有太大帮助。你说名字是假名。这当然不会有什么进展。你不是说你曾给他送过钱么？”
“送过两次。”
“怎样送给他的？”
“把钞票寄到坎伯韦尔邮局。”
“你没有设法去看看是谁取走的？”
“没有。”
警官显出吃惊的样子，而且有些诧异地说：“为什么没有呢？”
“因为我一贯守信用。他第一次写信给我时，我曾经答应不去追查他的行踪。”
“你认为他背后有个什么人吗？”
“我当然知道有。”
“就是我曾经听你提到过的那位教授吗？”
“一点也不错！”
警官麦克唐纳微微一笑，他向我瞥了一眼，眼皮连连眨动着：“不瞒你说，福尔摩斯先生，我们民间犯罪调查部都认为你对这位教授有一点儿偏见。关于这件事，我曾经亲自去调查过。他很象是一个非常可敬的、有学问的、有才能的人啊！”
“我很高兴你们竟赏识起这位天才来了。”
“老兄，人们不能不佩服他啊！在我听到你的看法以后，我就决心去看看他。我和他就日蚀的问题闲谈了一阵。我想不起来怎么会谈到这上面去的，不过他那时拿出一个反光灯和一个地球仪来，一下子就把原理说得明明白白了。他借给了我一本书，不过不怕你笑话，尽管我在阿伯丁受过很好的教育，我还是有些看不懂。他面容瘦削，头发灰白，说话时神态严肃，完全可以当一个极好的牧师呢。在我们分手的时候，他把手放在我肩上，就象父亲在你走上冷酷凶残的社会之前为你祝福似的。”
福尔摩斯格格地笑着，一边搓着手，一边说道：“好极了！好极了！麦克唐纳，我的朋友，请你告诉我，这次兴致盎然、感人肺腑的会见，我想大概是在教授的书房里进行的吧。”
“是这样。”
“一个很精致的房间，不是吗？”
“非常精致——实在非常华丽，福尔摩斯先生。”
“你是坐在他写字台对面吗？”
“正是这样。”
“太阳照着你的眼睛，而他的脸则在暗处，对吗？”
“嗯，那是在晚上；可是我记得当时灯光照在我的脸上。”
“这是当然的了。你可曾注意到教授座位上方墙上挂着一张画吗？”
“我不会漏过什么的，福尔摩斯先生。也许这是我从你那里学来的本领。不错，我看见那张画了——是一个年轻的女子，两手托着头，斜睨着人。”
“那是让·巴普蒂斯特·格罗兹的油画。”
警官尽力显得很感兴趣。
“让·巴普蒂斯特·格罗兹，"福尔摩斯两手指尖抵着指尖，仰靠在椅背上，继续说道，“他是一位法国画家，在一七五○年到一八○○年之间是显赫一时的。当然，我是指他绘画生涯说的。和格罗兹同时代的人对他评价很高，现时的评价，比那时还要高。”
警官双眼显出茫然不解的样子，说道：“我们最好还是……”
“我们正是在谈这件事情啊，"福尔摩斯打断他的话说，
“我所说的这一切都与你所称之为伯尔斯通之谜的案件有非常直接和极为重要的关系。事实上，在某种意义上可以说正是这一案件的中心呢。”
麦克唐纳用求助的眼光看着我，勉强地笑着说：“对我来讲，你的思路转动得有点太快了，福尔摩斯先生。你省略了一两个环节，可我就摸不着头脑了。到底这个已死的画家和伯尔斯通事件有什么关系呢？”
“一切知识对于侦探来说都是有用的，"福尔摩斯指出道，“一八六五年时，格罗兹一幅题名为'牧羊少女'的画，在波梯利斯拍卖时，卖到一百二十万法郎——论英镑也在四万以上——即使这样一件琐细的小事，也可以引起你的无限深思呢。”
显然，这确实引起警官的深思，他认认真真地注意听着。
“我可以提醒你，"福尔摩斯继续说下去，“教授的薪金可以从几本可靠的参考书中判断出来，每年是七百镑。”
“那他怎能买得起……”
“完全是这样！他怎能买得起呢？”
“啊，这是值得注意的，"警官深思地说，“请你继续讲下去吧，福尔摩斯先生，我真爱听极了，简直太妙了！”
福尔摩斯笑了笑。他受到人家真诚的钦佩时总是感到温暖——这可以说是一个真正的艺术家的性格。他这时问道：“到伯尔斯通去的事怎么样了呢？”
“我们还有时间呢，"警官瞅了一下表说，“我有一辆马车等在门口，用不了二十分钟就可以到维多利亚车站。可是讲起这幅画来，福尔摩斯先生，我记得你曾经对我说过一次，你从来没有见到过莫里亚蒂教授啊。”
“对，我从来没有见到过他。”
“那你怎么能知道他房间里的情形呢？”
“啊，这可是另外一回事了。我到他房中去过三次，有两次用不同的借口等候他，在他回来之前，就离开了。还有一次，啊，我可不便对一个官方侦探讲了。那是最后一次，我擅自把他的文件匆匆检查了一下，获得了完全意外的结果。”
“你发现了什么可疑的东西吗？”
“一点也没有。这正是使我惊奇的地方。不管怎样，你现在已经看到这张画所具有的意义了。它说明莫里亚蒂是一个极为富有的人。他怎么搞到这些财富的呢？他还没有结婚。他的弟弟是英格兰西部一个车站的站长。他的教授职位每年是七百镑。而他竟拥有一张格罗兹的油画。”
“嗯？”
“这样一推论，自然就明白了。”
“你的意思是说他有很大的收入，而这个收入是用非法的手段得来的吗？”
“一点不错，当然我还有别的理由这样想——许多蛛丝马迹，隐隐约约地通向蛛网的中心，而这个毒虫却一动也不动地在那里潜伏着。我仅只提起一个格罗兹，因为你自己已经亲眼见到了。”
“对，福尔摩斯先生，我承认刚才你所讲的那些话是很有意思的，不只非常有意思，简直奇妙极了。不过，如果你能把它讲得再清楚一些就更好了。究竟他的钱是从哪儿来的？伪造钞票？私铸硬币？还是盗窃来的？”
“你看过关于乔纳森·怀尔德的故事吗？”
“啊，这个名字听起来倒是很熟悉的。他是一本小说里的人物吧！是不是？我对于小说里的侦探们向来是不感兴趣的。这些家伙做什么事总是不让人家知道他们是怎样做的。那只不过是灵机一动的事，算不上办案。”
“乔纳森·怀尔德不是侦探，也不是小说里的人物，他是一个罪魁，生在上一世纪——一七五○年前后。”
“那么，他对我就没有什么用处了，我是一个讲究实际的人。”
“麦克先生，你一生最实际的事，就是应该闭门读书三个月，每天读十二个小时犯罪史。任何事物都是往复循环的——甚至莫里亚蒂教授也是如此。乔纳森·怀尔德是伦敦罪犯们的幕后推动力，他靠他那诡谲的头脑和他的组织势力从伦敦罪犯那里收取百分之十五的佣金。旧时代的车轮在旋转，同一根轮辐还会转回来的。过去所发生的一切，将来还是要发生的。我要告诉你一两件关于莫里亚蒂的事，它会使你感兴趣的。”
“你讲的一定会使我非常感兴趣。”
“我偶然发现莫里亚蒂锁链中的第一个环节——锁链的一端是这位罪大恶极的人物，另一端则有上百个出手伤人的打手、扒手、诈骗犯和靠耍弄花招骗钱的赌棍，中间夹杂着五花八门的罪行。给他们出谋划策的是塞巴斯蒂恩·莫兰上校，而国法对这位'参谋长'和对莫里亚蒂本人一样无能为力。你知道莫里亚蒂教授给他多少钱吗？”
“我很愿意听一听。”
“一年六千镑。这是他绞尽脑汁的代价。你知道这是美国的商业原则。我了解到这一详情，完全出于偶然。这比一个首相的收入还要多。从这一点就可以想象莫里亚蒂的收入究竟有多少，以及他所从事的活动规模有多大了。另外一点：最近我曾有意地搜集了莫里亚蒂的一些支票——只不过是一些他支付家庭用度的无嫌疑的普通支票。这些支票是从六家不同的银行支取的。这一点使你产生了什么印象呢？”
“当然，非常奇怪！可是你想从这点得出什么结论呢？”
“他不愿让人议论他的财富。谁也别想知道他到底有多少钱。我深信他开了足有二十个银行账户。他的大部分财产很可能存在国外德意志银行或者是利翁内信贷银行。以后当你能有一两年空闲时间的时候，我请你把莫里亚蒂教授好好研究一下。”
这番谈话给麦克唐纳留下了很深的印象，他颇感兴趣地听得出了神。现在他那种讲究实际的苏格兰人性格又使他马上转回到当前的案子上来。
“不管怎样，他当然可以存在任何一家银行的，"麦克唐纳说，“你讲这些饶有兴味的轶闻旧史，引得我都离了题，福尔摩斯先生。真正重要的是你所说的：那位教授和这件罪案是有牵连的，就是你从波尔洛克那个人那里收到的警告信上所说的那点。我们能不能为了当前的实际需要再前进一步呢？”
“我们不妨推测一下犯罪动机。我根据你原来所讲的情况来推测，这是一宗莫名片妙的、或者至少是一起难于解释的凶杀案。现在，假定犯罪的起因正象我们所怀疑的那样，可能有两种不同的动机。首先，我可以告诉你，莫里亚蒂用一种铁的手腕来统治他的党羽，他的纪律非常严。在他的法典里，只有一种惩戒形式，那就是处死。现在我们可以假定这个被害人道格拉斯以某种方式背叛过他的首领，而他那即将临头的厄运却被这个首领的某个部下知道了。继之而来的就是对他的惩戒，而且这个惩戒也就会被所有的人都知道——其目的不过是要使部下都感到死亡的恐怖。”
“好！这是一种意见。福尔摩斯先生。”
“另一种看法就是惨案的发生是按照那种营生的常规做法由莫里亚蒂策划的了。那里遭到抢劫没有？”
“这个我没有听说。”
“当然，如果是这样，那么第一种假设可能就不符合实际，而第二种假设就较接近实际了。莫里亚蒂可能是在分得部分赃物的应许下参加策划的，不然就是别人给他很多钱叫他主持这一罪恶勾当。两种假设都有可能。可是，不管是第一种还是第二种可能，或者还有什么第三种综合性的可能，咱们也必须到伯尔斯通去找答案。我对咱们这个对象可太了解了，他决不会在这里留下任何能使咱们跟踪追击到他名下的线索。”
“那么，咱们非得到伯尔斯通去不可了！"麦克唐纳从椅子上跳起来，大声说道，“哎呀！比我想的要晚多了。先生们，我只能给你们五分钟准备时间，就这样吧。”
“对我们俩来说，这就足够了。"福尔摩斯跳起来，急忙脱下睡衣，换上外套说道，“麦克先生，等我们上了路，请你把一切情况详细地告诉我。”
“一切情况"少得令人失望，但是它却足以使我们确信，我们面临的案子是非常值得一位专家密切注意的。当福尔摩斯倾听那少得可怜但却值得注意的细节时，他面露喜色，不住搓弄两只瘦手。漫长而又百无聊赖的几个星期总算是过去了，眼下终于有了一个适合的案件来发挥那些非凡的才能了，这种非凡的才能，正象一切特殊的禀赋一样，当它毫无用武之地的时候，就变得使它们的主人感到厌倦。敏锐的头脑也会由于无所事事而变得迟钝生锈的。
歇洛克·福尔摩斯遇到了要求他解决的案子，他的两眼炯炯传神，苍白的双颊微现红晕，急于求成的面庞神采奕奕。他坐在车上，上身前倾，聚精会神地倾听麦克唐纳讲述这个案子的简要情况。这个案子正等待着我们到苏塞克斯去解决呢。警官向我们解释说，他是根据送给他的一份草草写成的报告讲的，这份报告是清晨通过送牛奶的火车带给他的。地方官怀特·梅森是他的好朋友，在别处的人需要他们帮忙的时候，麦克唐纳总是比苏格兰场收到通知要快得多。这是一桩无从下手的案子，这样的案子一般需要由大城市的专家去解决的。“亲爱的麦克唐纳警官（他念给我们的信上这样说）：
这信是写给你个人的，另有公文送到警署。请打电报通知我，你坐早晨哪一班车到伯尔斯通来，以便我去迎候。如果我不能脱身，也将派人去接。这个案件不比寻常。请你火速前来，不要耽误一点时间。如果你能和福尔摩斯先生一起来，务请同行。他会发现一些完全合他心意的事。如果不是其中有一个死人，我们就会以为全部案子是戏剧性地解决了呢。哎呀，这真是个不寻常的案子啊！”
“你的朋友似乎并不愚蠢，"福尔摩斯说道。
“对，先生，如果让我评价的话，怀特·梅森是一个精力非常充沛的人。”
“好，你还有什么别的话要说吗？”
“咱们遇到他时，他会把一切详情告诉咱们的。”
“那么，你是怎么知道道格拉斯先生和他惨遭杀害的事实的？”
“那是随信附来的正式报告上说的。报告上没有用那'惨遭'二字，这不是一个公认的正式术语，只是说死者叫约翰·道格拉斯，提到他伤在头部，是被火枪射中的；还提到案发的时间是昨晚接近午夜时分；还说这案件无疑是一桩谋杀案，不过还没有对任何人实行拘捕。此案案件具有非常复杂和分外离奇的持点。福尔摩斯先生，这就是当前我们所知道的全部情况。”
“那么，麦克先生，你如果赞成，我们就谈到这里。根据不足过早做出判断，这对咱们的工作是极为有害的。当前我只能肯定两件事——伦敦的一个大智囊和苏塞克斯的死者。我们所要查清的正是这两者之间的联系。”
"Remarkable!" said he. "Remarkable!"
"You don't seem surprised."
"Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be surprised? I receive an anonymous communication from a quarter which I know to be important, warning me that danger threatens a certain person. Within an hour I learn that this danger has actually materialized and that the person is dead. I am interested; but, as you observe, I am not surprised."
In a few short sentences he explained to the inspector the facts about the letter and the cipher. MacDonald sat with his chin on his hands and his great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yellow tangle.
"I was going down to Birlstone this morning," said he. "I had come to ask you if you cared to come with me--you and your friend here. But from what you say we might perhaps be doing better work in London."
"I rather think not," said Holmes.
"Hang it all, Mr. Holmes!" cried the inspector. "The papers will be full of the Birlstone mystery in a day or two; but where's the mystery if there is a man in London who prophesied the crime before ever it occurred? We have only to lay our hands on that man, and the rest will follow."
"No doubt, Mr. Mac. But how do you propose to lay your hands on the so-called Porlock?"
MacDonald turned over the letter which Holmes had handed him. "Posted in Camberwell--that doesn't help us much. Name, you say, is assumed. Not much to go on, certainly. Didn't you say that you have sent him money?"
"Twice."
"And how?"
"In notes to Camberwell post office."
"Did you ever trouble to see who called for them?"
"No."
The inspector looked surprised and a little shocked. "Why not?"
"Because I always keep faith. I had promised when he first wrote that I would not try to trace him."
"You think there is someone behind him?"
"I know there is."
"This professor that I've heard you mention?"
"Exactly!"
Inspector MacDonald smiled, and his eyelid quivered as he glanced towards me. "I won't conceal from you, Mr. Holmes, that we think in the C.I.D. that you have a wee bit of a bee in your bonnet over this professor. I made some inquiries myself about the matter. He seems to be a very respectable, learned, and talented sort of man."
"I'm glad you've got so far as to recognize the talent."
"Man, you can't but recognize it! After I heard your view I made it my business to see him. I had a chat with him on eclipses. How the talk got that way I canna think; but he had out a reflector lantern and a globe, and made it all clear in a minute. He lent me a book; but I don't mind saying that it was a bit above my head, though I had a good Aberdeen upbringing. He'd have made a grand meenister with his thin face and gray hair and solemn-like way of talking. When he put his hand on my shoulder as we were parting, it was like a father's blessing before you go out into the cold, cruel world."
Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. "Great!" he said. "Great! Tell me, Friend MacDonald, this pleasing and touching interview was, I suppose, in the professor's study?"
"That's so."
"A fine room, is it not?"
"Very fine -- very handsome indeed, Mr. Holmes."
"You sat in front of his writing desk?"
"Just so."
"Sun in your eyes and his face in the shadow?"
"Well, it was evening; but I mind that the lamp was turned on my face."
"It would be. Did you happen to observe a picture over the professor's head?"
"I don't miss much, Mr. Holmes. Maybe I learned that from you. Yes, I saw the picture--a young woman with her head on her hands, peeping at you sideways."
"That painting was by Jean Baptiste Greuze."
The inspector endeavoured to look interested.
"Jean Baptiste Greuze," Holmes continued, joining his finger tips and leaning well back in his chair, "was a French artist who flourished between the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of course to his working career. Modern criticism has more than indorsed the high opinion formed of him by his contemporaries."
The inspector's eyes grew abstracted. "Hadn't we better--" he said.
"We are doing so," Holmes interrupted. "All that I am saying has a very direct and vital bearing upon what you have called the Birlstone Mystery. In fact, it may in a sense be called the very centre of it."
MacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appealingly to me. "Your thoughts move a bit too quick for me, Mr. Holmes. You leave out a link or two, and I can't get over the gap. What in the whole wide world can be the connection between this dead painting man and the affair at Birlstone?"
"All knowledge comes useful to the detective," remarked Holmes. "Even the trivial fact that in the year 1865 a picture by Greuze entitled La Jeune Fille a l'Agneau fetched one million two hundred thousand francs--more than forty thousand pounds--at the Portalis sale may start a train of reflection in your mind."
It was clear that it did. The inspector looked honestly interested.
"I may remind you," Holmes continued, "that the professor's salary can be ascertained in several trustworthy books of reference. It is seven hundred a year."
"Then how could he buy--"
"Quite so! How could he?"
"Ay, that's remarkable," said the inspector thoughtfully. "Talk away, Mr. Holmes. I'm just loving it. It's fine!"
Holmes smiled. He was always warmed by genuine admiration--the characteristic of the real artist. "What about Birlstone?" he asked.
"We've time yet," said the inspector, glancing at his watch. "I've a cab at the door, and it won't take us twenty minutes to Victoria. But about this picture: I thought you told me once, Mr. Holmes, that you had never met Professor Moriarty."
"No, I never have."
"Then how do you know about his rooms?"
"Ah, that's another matter. I have been three times in his rooms, twice waiting for him under different pretexts and leaving before he came. Once--well, I can hardly tell about the once to an official detective. It was on the last occasion that I took the liberty of running over his papers--with the most unexpected results."
"You found something compromising?"
"Absolutely nothing. That was what amazed me. However, you have now seen the point of the picture. It shows him to be a very wealthy man. How did he acquire wealth? He is unmarried. His younger brother is a station master in the west of England. His chair is worth seven hundred a year. And he owns a Greuze."
"Well?"
"Surely the inference is plain."
"You mean that he has a great income and that he must earn it in an illegal fashion?"
"Exactly. Of course I have other reasons for thinking so--dozens of exiguous threads which lead vaguely up towards the centre of the web where the poisonous, motionless creature is lurking. I only mention the Greuze because it brings the matter within the range of your own observation."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, I admit that what you say is interesting: it's more than interesting--it's just wonderful. But let us have it a little clearer if you can. Is it forgery, coining, burglary--where does the money come from?"
"Have you ever read of Jonathan Wild?"
"Well, the name has a familiar sound. Someone in a novel, was he not? I don't take much stock of detectives in novels--chaps that do things and never let you see how they do them. That's just inspiration: not business."
"Jonathan Wild wasn't a detective, and he wasn't in a novel. He was a master criminal, and he lived last century--1750 or thereabouts."
"Then he's no use to me. I'm a practical man."
"Mr. Mac, the most practical thing that you ever did in your life would be to shut yourself up for three months and read twelve hours a day at the annals of crime. Everything comes in circles--even Professor Moriarty. Jonathan Wild was the hidden force of the London criminals, to whom he sold his brains and his organization on a fifteen per cent. commission. The old wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all been done before, and will be again. I'll tell you one or two things about Moriarty which may interest you."
"You'll interest me, right enough."
"I happen to know who is the first link in his chain--a chain with this Napoleon-gone-wrong at one end, and a hundred broken fighting men, pickpockets, blackmailers, and card sharpers at the other, with every sort of crime in between. His chief of staff is Colonel Sebastian Moran, as aloof and guarded and inaccessible to the law as himself. What do you think he pays him?"
"I'd like to hear."
"Six thousand a year. That's paying for brains, you see--the American business principle. I learned that detail quite by chance. It's more than the Prime Minister gets. That gives you an idea of Moriarty's gains and of the scale on which he works. Another point: I made it my business to hunt down some of Moriarty's checks lately--just common innocent checks that he pays his household bills with. They were drawn on six different banks. Does that make any impression on your mind?"
"Queer, certainly! But what do you gather from it?"
"That he wanted no gossip about his wealth. No single man should know what he had. I have no doubt that he has twenty banking accounts; the bulk of his fortune abroad in the Deutsche Bank or the Credit Lyonnais as likely as not. Sometime when you have a year or two to spare I commend to you the study of Professor Moriarty."
Inspector MacDonald had grown steadily more impressed as the conversation proceeded. He had lost himself in his interest. Now his practical Scotch intelligence brought him back with a snap to the matter in hand.
"He can keep, anyhow," said he. "You've got us side-tracked with your interesting anecdotes, Mr. Holmes. What really counts is your remark that there is some connection between the professor and the crime. That you get from the warning received through the man Porlock. Can we for our present practical needs get any further than that?"
"We may form some conception as to the motives of the crime. It is, as I gather from your original remarks, an inexplicable, or at least an unexplained, murder. Now, presuming that the source of the crime is as we suspect it to be, there might be two different motives. In the first place, I may tell you that Moriarty rules with a rod of iron over his people. His discipline is tremendous. There is only one punishment in his code. It is death. Now we might suppose that this murdered man--this Douglas whose approaching fate was known by one of the arch-criminal's subordinates--had in some way betrayed the chief. His punishment followed, and would be known to all--if only to put the fear of death into them."
"Well, that is one suggestion, Mr. Holmes."
"The other is that it has been engineered by Moriarty in the ordinary course of business. Was there any robbery?"
"I have not heard."
"If so, it would, of course, be against the first hypothesis and in favour of the second. Moriarty may have been engaged to engineer it on a promise of part spoils, or he may have been paid so much down to manage it. Either is possible. But whichever it may be, or if it is some third combination, it is down at Birlstone that we must seek the solution. I know our man too well to suppose that he has left anything up here which may lead us to him."
"Then to Birlstone we must go!" cried MacDonald, jumping from his chair. "My word! it's later than I thought. I can give you, gentlemen, five minutes for preparation, and that is all."
"And ample for us both," said Holmes, as he sprang up and hastened to change from his dressing gown to his coat. "While we are on our way, Mr. Mac, I will ask you to be good enough to tell me all about it."
"All about it" proved to be disappointingly little, and yet there was enough to assure us that the case before us might well be worthy of the expert's closest attention. He brightened and rubbed his thin hands together as he listened to the meagre but remarkable details. A long series of sterile weeks lay behind us, and here at last there was a fitting object for those remarkable powers which, like all special gifts, become irksome to their owner when they are not in use. That razor brain blunted and rusted with inaction.
Sherlock Holmes's eyes glistened, his pale cheeks took a warmer hue, and his whole eager face shone with an inward light when the call for work reached him. Leaning forward in the cab, he listened intently to MacDonald's short sketch of the problem which awaited us in Sussex. The inspector was himself dependent, as he explained to us, upon a scribbled account forwarded to him by the milk train in the early hours of the morning. White Mason, the local officer, was a personal friend, and hence MacDonald had been notified much more promptly than is usual at Scotland Yard when provincials need their assistance. It is a very cold scent upon which the Metropolitan expert is generally asked to run.
"DEAR INSPECTOR MACDONALD (said the letter which he read to us):
"Official requisition for your services is in separate envelope. This is for your private eye. Wire me what train in the morning you can get for Birlstone, and I will meet it--or have it met if I am too occupied. This case is a snorter. Don't waste a moment in getting started. If you can bring Mr. Holmes, please do so; for he will find something after his own heart. We would think the whole had been fixed up for theatrical effect if there wasn't a dead man in the middle of it. My word! it IS a snorter."
"Your friend seems to be no fool," remarked Holmes.
"No, sir, White Mason is a very live man, if I am any judge."
"Well, have you anything more?"
"Only that he will give us every detail when we meet."
"Then how did you get at Mr. Douglas and the fact that he had been horribly murdered?"
"That was in the inclosed official report. It didn't say 'horrible': that's not a recognized official term. It gave the name John Douglas. It mentioned that his injuries had been in the head, from the discharge of a shotgun. It also mentioned the hour of the alarm, which was close on to midnight last night. It added that the case was undoubtedly one of murder, but that no arrest had been made, and that the case was one which presented some very perplexing and extraordinary features. That's absolutely all we have at present, Mr. Holmes."
"Then, with your permission, we will leave it at that, Mr. Mac. The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession. I can see only two things for certain at present--a great brain in London, and a dead man in Sussex. It's the chain between that we are going to trace."
“意外！意外！"他说。
“看来你并不感到吃惊啊！”
“麦克先生，这只不过是引起了我的注意罢了，决不是吃惊。我为什么要吃惊呢？我从某方面接到一封匿名信并知道这封信非常重要。它警告我说危险正威胁着某个人。一小时之内，我得知这个危险已成为现实，而那个人已经死了。正象你看到的那样 ，它引起了我的注意，可我并不吃惊。”
他把这封信和密码的来由向那警官简单讲了一遍。麦克唐纳双手托着下巴坐着，两道淡茶色的浓眉蹙成一团。
“今天早晨我本来是要到伯尔斯通去的，"麦克唐纳说，
“我来的目的就是问一下你和你的这位朋友是否愿意和我一起去。不过，从你刚才的话来看，我们在伦敦也许能办得更好些。”
“我倒不这样想，"福尔摩斯说。
“真是活见鬼了！福尔摩斯先生，"警官大声喊道，“一两天内，报上就该登满'伯尔斯通之谜'了。可是既然在罪行还没有发生以前，已经有人在伦敦预料到了，那还算得上什么谜呢？我们只要捉住这个人，其余的一切就迎刃而解了。”
“这是毫无疑问的，麦克先生。可是你打算怎样去捉住这个所谓的波尔洛克呢？”
麦克唐纳把福尔摩斯递给他的那封信翻过来说：“是从坎伯韦尔投寄的——这对我们也没有太大帮助。你说名字是假名。这当然不会有什么进展。你不是说你曾给他送过钱么？”
“送过两次。”
“怎样送给他的？”
“把钞票寄到坎伯韦尔邮局。”
“你没有设法去看看是谁取走的？”
“没有。”
警官显出吃惊的样子，而且有些诧异地说：“为什么没有呢？”
“因为我一贯守信用。他第一次写信给我时，我曾经答应不去追查他的行踪。”
“你认为他背后有个什么人吗？”
“我当然知道有。”
“就是我曾经听你提到过的那位教授吗？”
“一点也不错！”
警官麦克唐纳微微一笑，他向我瞥了一眼，眼皮连连眨动着：“不瞒你说，福尔摩斯先生，我们民间犯罪调查部都认为你对这位教授有一点儿偏见。关于这件事，我曾经亲自去调查过。他很象是一个非常可敬的、有学问的、有才能的人啊！”
“我很高兴你们竟赏识起这位天才来了。”
“老兄，人们不能不佩服他啊！在我听到你的看法以后，我就决心去看看他。我和他就日蚀的问题闲谈了一阵。我想不起来怎么会谈到这上面去的，不过他那时拿出一个反光灯和一个地球仪来，一下子就把原理说得明明白白了。他借给了我一本书，不过不怕你笑话，尽管我在阿伯丁受过很好的教育，我还是有些看不懂。他面容瘦削，头发灰白，说话时神态严肃，完全可以当一个极好的牧师呢。在我们分手的时候，他把手放在我肩上，就象父亲在你走上冷酷凶残的社会之前为你祝福似的。”
福尔摩斯格格地笑着，一边搓着手，一边说道：“好极了！好极了！麦克唐纳，我的朋友，请你告诉我，这次兴致盎然、感人肺腑的会见，我想大概是在教授的书房里进行的吧。”
“是这样。”
“一个很精致的房间，不是吗？”
“非常精致——实在非常华丽，福尔摩斯先生。”
“你是坐在他写字台对面吗？”
“正是这样。”
“太阳照着你的眼睛，而他的脸则在暗处，对吗？”
“嗯，那是在晚上；可是我记得当时灯光照在我的脸上。”
“这是当然的了。你可曾注意到教授座位上方墙上挂着一张画吗？”
“我不会漏过什么的，福尔摩斯先生。也许这是我从你那里学来的本领。不错，我看见那张画了——是一个年轻的女子，两手托着头，斜睨着人。”
“那是让·巴普蒂斯特·格罗兹的油画。”
警官尽力显得很感兴趣。
“让·巴普蒂斯特·格罗兹，"福尔摩斯两手指尖抵着指尖，仰靠在椅背上，继续说道，“他是一位法国画家，在一七五○年到一八○○年之间是显赫一时的。当然，我是指他绘画生涯说的。和格罗兹同时代的人对他评价很高，现时的评价，比那时还要高。”
警官双眼显出茫然不解的样子，说道：“我们最好还是……”
“我们正是在谈这件事情啊，"福尔摩斯打断他的话说，
“我所说的这一切都与你所称之为伯尔斯通之谜的案件有非常直接和极为重要的关系。事实上，在某种意义上可以说正是这一案件的中心呢。”
麦克唐纳用求助的眼光看着我，勉强地笑着说：“对我来讲，你的思路转动得有点太快了，福尔摩斯先生。你省略了一两个环节，可我就摸不着头脑了。到底这个已死的画家和伯尔斯通事件有什么关系呢？”
“一切知识对于侦探来说都是有用的，"福尔摩斯指出道，“一八六五年时，格罗兹一幅题名为'牧羊少女'的画，在波梯利斯拍卖时，卖到一百二十万法郎——论英镑也在四万以上——即使这样一件琐细的小事，也可以引起你的无限深思呢。”
显然，这确实引起警官的深思，他认认真真地注意听着。
“我可以提醒你，"福尔摩斯继续说下去，“教授的薪金可以从几本可靠的参考书中判断出来，每年是七百镑。”
“那他怎能买得起……”
“完全是这样！他怎能买得起呢？”
“啊，这是值得注意的，"警官深思地说，“请你继续讲下去吧，福尔摩斯先生，我真爱听极了，简直太妙了！”
福尔摩斯笑了笑。他受到人家真诚的钦佩时总是感到温暖——这可以说是一个真正的艺术家的性格。他这时问道：“到伯尔斯通去的事怎么样了呢？”
“我们还有时间呢，"警官瞅了一下表说，“我有一辆马车等在门口，用不了二十分钟就可以到维多利亚车站。可是讲起这幅画来，福尔摩斯先生，我记得你曾经对我说过一次，你从来没有见到过莫里亚蒂教授啊。”
“对，我从来没有见到过他。”
“那你怎么能知道他房间里的情形呢？”
“啊，这可是另外一回事了。我到他房中去过三次，有两次用不同的借口等候他，在他回来之前，就离开了。还有一次，啊，我可不便对一个官方侦探讲了。那是最后一次，我擅自把他的文件匆匆检查了一下，获得了完全意外的结果。”
“你发现了什么可疑的东西吗？”
“一点也没有。这正是使我惊奇的地方。不管怎样，你现在已经看到这张画所具有的意义了。它说明莫里亚蒂是一个极为富有的人。他怎么搞到这些财富的呢？他还没有结婚。他的弟弟是英格兰西部一个车站的站长。他的教授职位每年是七百镑。而他竟拥有一张格罗兹的油画。”
“嗯？”
“这样一推论，自然就明白了。”
“你的意思是说他有很大的收入，而这个收入是用非法的手段得来的吗？”
“一点不错，当然我还有别的理由这样想——许多蛛丝马迹，隐隐约约地通向蛛网的中心，而这个毒虫却一动也不动地在那里潜伏着。我仅只提起一个格罗兹，因为你自己已经亲眼见到了。”
“对，福尔摩斯先生，我承认刚才你所讲的那些话是很有意思的，不只非常有意思，简直奇妙极了。不过，如果你能把它讲得再清楚一些就更好了。究竟他的钱是从哪儿来的？伪造钞票？私铸硬币？还是盗窃来的？”
“你看过关于乔纳森·怀尔德的故事吗？”
“啊，这个名字听起来倒是很熟悉的。他是一本小说里的人物吧！是不是？我对于小说里的侦探们向来是不感兴趣的。这些家伙做什么事总是不让人家知道他们是怎样做的。那只不过是灵机一动的事，算不上办案。”
“乔纳森·怀尔德不是侦探，也不是小说里的人物，他是一个罪魁，生在上一世纪——一七五○年前后。”
“那么，他对我就没有什么用处了，我是一个讲究实际的人。”
“麦克先生，你一生最实际的事，就是应该闭门读书三个月，每天读十二个小时犯罪史。任何事物都是往复循环的——甚至莫里亚蒂教授也是如此。乔纳森·怀尔德是伦敦罪犯们的幕后推动力，他靠他那诡谲的头脑和他的组织势力从伦敦罪犯那里收取百分之十五的佣金。旧时代的车轮在旋转，同一根轮辐还会转回来的。过去所发生的一切，将来还是要发生的。我要告诉你一两件关于莫里亚蒂的事，它会使你感兴趣的。”
“你讲的一定会使我非常感兴趣。”
“我偶然发现莫里亚蒂锁链中的第一个环节——锁链的一端是这位罪大恶极的人物，另一端则有上百个出手伤人的打手、扒手、诈骗犯和靠耍弄花招骗钱的赌棍，中间夹杂着五花八门的罪行。给他们出谋划策的是塞巴斯蒂恩·莫兰上校，而国法对这位'参谋长'和对莫里亚蒂本人一样无能为力。你知道莫里亚蒂教授给他多少钱吗？”
“我很愿意听一听。”
“一年六千镑。这是他绞尽脑汁的代价。你知道这是美国的商业原则。我了解到这一详情，完全出于偶然。这比一个首相的收入还要多。从这一点就可以想象莫里亚蒂的收入究竟有多少，以及他所从事的活动规模有多大了。另外一点：最近我曾有意地搜集了莫里亚蒂的一些支票——只不过是一些他支付家庭用度的无嫌疑的普通支票。这些支票是从六家不同的银行支取的。这一点使你产生了什么印象呢？”
“当然，非常奇怪！可是你想从这点得出什么结论呢？”
“他不愿让人议论他的财富。谁也别想知道他到底有多少钱。我深信他开了足有二十个银行账户。他的大部分财产很可能存在国外德意志银行或者是利翁内信贷银行。以后当你能有一两年空闲时间的时候，我请你把莫里亚蒂教授好好研究一下。”
这番谈话给麦克唐纳留下了很深的印象，他颇感兴趣地听得出了神。现在他那种讲究实际的苏格兰人性格又使他马上转回到当前的案子上来。
“不管怎样，他当然可以存在任何一家银行的，"麦克唐纳说，“你讲这些饶有兴味的轶闻旧史，引得我都离了题，福尔摩斯先生。真正重要的是你所说的：那位教授和这件罪案是有牵连的，就是你从波尔洛克那个人那里收到的警告信上所说的那点。我们能不能为了当前的实际需要再前进一步呢？”
“我们不妨推测一下犯罪动机。我根据你原来所讲的情况来推测，这是一宗莫名片妙的、或者至少是一起难于解释的凶杀案。现在，假定犯罪的起因正象我们所怀疑的那样，可能有两种不同的动机。首先，我可以告诉你，莫里亚蒂用一种铁的手腕来统治他的党羽，他的纪律非常严。在他的法典里，只有一种惩戒形式，那就是处死。现在我们可以假定这个被害人道格拉斯以某种方式背叛过他的首领，而他那即将临头的厄运却被这个首领的某个部下知道了。继之而来的就是对他的惩戒，而且这个惩戒也就会被所有的人都知道——其目的不过是要使部下都感到死亡的恐怖。”
“好！这是一种意见。福尔摩斯先生。”
“另一种看法就是惨案的发生是按照那种营生的常规做法由莫里亚蒂策划的了。那里遭到抢劫没有？”
“这个我没有听说。”
“当然，如果是这样，那么第一种假设可能就不符合实际，而第二种假设就较接近实际了。莫里亚蒂可能是在分得部分赃物的应许下参加策划的，不然就是别人给他很多钱叫他主持这一罪恶勾当。两种假设都有可能。可是，不管是第一种还是第二种可能，或者还有什么第三种综合性的可能，咱们也必须到伯尔斯通去找答案。我对咱们这个对象可太了解了，他决不会在这里留下任何能使咱们跟踪追击到他名下的线索。”
“那么，咱们非得到伯尔斯通去不可了！"麦克唐纳从椅子上跳起来，大声说道，“哎呀！比我想的要晚多了。先生们，我只能给你们五分钟准备时间，就这样吧。”
“对我们俩来说，这就足够了。"福尔摩斯跳起来，急忙脱下睡衣，换上外套说道，“麦克先生，等我们上了路，请你把一切情况详细地告诉我。”
“一切情况"少得令人失望，但是它却足以使我们确信，我们面临的案子是非常值得一位专家密切注意的。当福尔摩斯倾听那少得可怜但却值得注意的细节时，他面露喜色，不住搓弄两只瘦手。漫长而又百无聊赖的几个星期总算是过去了，眼下终于有了一个适合的案件来发挥那些非凡的才能了，这种非凡的才能，正象一切特殊的禀赋一样，当它毫无用武之地的时候，就变得使它们的主人感到厌倦。敏锐的头脑也会由于无所事事而变得迟钝生锈的。
歇洛克·福尔摩斯遇到了要求他解决的案子，他的两眼炯炯传神，苍白的双颊微现红晕，急于求成的面庞神采奕奕。他坐在车上，上身前倾，聚精会神地倾听麦克唐纳讲述这个案子的简要情况。这个案子正等待着我们到苏塞克斯去解决呢。警官向我们解释说，他是根据送给他的一份草草写成的报告讲的，这份报告是清晨通过送牛奶的火车带给他的。地方官怀特·梅森是他的好朋友，在别处的人需要他们帮忙的时候，麦克唐纳总是比苏格兰场收到通知要快得多。这是一桩无从下手的案子，这样的案子一般需要由大城市的专家去解决的。“亲爱的麦克唐纳警官（他念给我们的信上这样说）：
这信是写给你个人的，另有公文送到警署。请打电报通知我，你坐早晨哪一班车到伯尔斯通来，以便我去迎候。如果我不能脱身，也将派人去接。这个案件不比寻常。请你火速前来，不要耽误一点时间。如果你能和福尔摩斯先生一起来，务请同行。他会发现一些完全合他心意的事。如果不是其中有一个死人，我们就会以为全部案子是戏剧性地解决了呢。哎呀，这真是个不寻常的案子啊！”
“你的朋友似乎并不愚蠢，"福尔摩斯说道。
“对，先生，如果让我评价的话，怀特·梅森是一个精力非常充沛的人。”
“好，你还有什么别的话要说吗？”
“咱们遇到他时，他会把一切详情告诉咱们的。”
“那么，你是怎么知道道格拉斯先生和他惨遭杀害的事实的？”
“那是随信附来的正式报告上说的。报告上没有用那'惨遭'二字，这不是一个公认的正式术语，只是说死者叫约翰·道格拉斯，提到他伤在头部，是被火枪射中的；还提到案发的时间是昨晚接近午夜时分；还说这案件无疑是一桩谋杀案，不过还没有对任何人实行拘捕。此案案件具有非常复杂和分外离奇的持点。福尔摩斯先生，这就是当前我们所知道的全部情况。”
“那么，麦克先生，你如果赞成，我们就谈到这里。根据不足过早做出判断，这对咱们的工作是极为有害的。当前我只能肯定两件事——伦敦的一个大智囊和苏塞克斯的死者。我们所要查清的正是这两者之间的联系。”
"Remarkable!" said he. "Remarkable!"
"You don't seem surprised."
"Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be surprised? I receive an anonymous communication from a quarter which I know to be important, warning me that danger threatens a certain person. Within an hour I learn that this danger has actually materialized and that the person is dead. I am interested; but, as you observe, I am not surprised."
In a few short sentences he explained to the inspector the facts about the letter and the cipher. MacDonald sat with his chin on his hands and his great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yellow tangle.
"I was going down to Birlstone this morning," said he. "I had come to ask you if you cared to come with me--you and your friend here. But from what you say we might perhaps be doing better work in London."
"I rather think not," said Holmes.
"Hang it all, Mr. Holmes!" cried the inspector. "The papers will be full of the Birlstone mystery in a day or two; but where's the mystery if there is a man in London who prophesied the crime before ever it occurred? We have only to lay our hands on that man, and the rest will follow."
"No doubt, Mr. Mac. But how do you propose to lay your hands on the so-called Porlock?"
MacDonald turned over the letter which Holmes had handed him. "Posted in Camberwell--that doesn't help us much. Name, you say, is assumed. Not much to go on, certainly. Didn't you say that you have sent him money?"
"Twice."
"And how?"
"In notes to Camberwell post office."
"Did you ever trouble to see who called for them?"
"No."
The inspector looked surprised and a little shocked. "Why not?"
"Because I always keep faith. I had promised when he first wrote that I would not try to trace him."
"You think there is someone behind him?"
"I know there is."
"This professor that I've heard you mention?"
"Exactly!"
Inspector MacDonald smiled, and his eyelid quivered as he glanced towards me. "I won't conceal from you, Mr. Holmes, that we think in the C.I.D. that you have a wee bit of a bee in your bonnet over this professor. I made some inquiries myself about the matter. He seems to be a very respectable, learned, and talented sort of man."
"I'm glad you've got so far as to recognize the talent."
"Man, you can't but recognize it! After I heard your view I made it my business to see him. I had a chat with him on eclipses. How the talk got that way I canna think; but he had out a reflector lantern and a globe, and made it all clear in a minute. He lent me a book; but I don't mind saying that it was a bit above my head, though I had a good Aberdeen upbringing. He'd have made a grand meenister with his thin face and gray hair and solemn-like way of talking. When he put his hand on my shoulder as we were parting, it was like a father's blessing before you go out into the cold, cruel world."
Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. "Great!" he said. "Great! Tell me, Friend MacDonald, this pleasing and touching interview was, I suppose, in the professor's study?"
"That's so."
"A fine room, is it not?"
"Very fine -- very handsome indeed, Mr. Holmes."
"You sat in front of his writing desk?"
"Just so."
"Sun in your eyes and his face in the shadow?"
"Well, it was evening; but I mind that the lamp was turned on my face."
"It would be. Did you happen to observe a picture over the professor's head?"
"I don't miss much, Mr. Holmes. Maybe I learned that from you. Yes, I saw the picture--a young woman with her head on her hands, peeping at you sideways."
"That painting was by Jean Baptiste Greuze."
The inspector endeavoured to look interested.
"Jean Baptiste Greuze," Holmes continued, joining his finger tips and leaning well back in his chair, "was a French artist who flourished between the years 1750 and 1800. I allude, of course to his working career. Modern criticism has more than indorsed the high opinion formed of him by his contemporaries."
The inspector's eyes grew abstracted. "Hadn't we better--" he said.
"We are doing so," Holmes interrupted. "All that I am saying has a very direct and vital bearing upon what you have called the Birlstone Mystery. In fact, it may in a sense be called the very centre of it."
MacDonald smiled feebly, and looked appealingly to me. "Your thoughts move a bit too quick for me, Mr. Holmes. You leave out a link or two, and I can't get over the gap. What in the whole wide world can be the connection between this dead painting man and the affair at Birlstone?"
"All knowledge comes useful to the detective," remarked Holmes. "Even the trivial fact that in the year 1865 a picture by Greuze entitled La Jeune Fille a l'Agneau fetched one million two hundred thousand francs--more than forty thousand pounds--at the Portalis sale may start a train of reflection in your mind."
It was clear that it did. The inspector looked honestly interested.
"I may remind you," Holmes continued, "that the professor's salary can be ascertained in several trustworthy books of reference. It is seven hundred a year."
"Then how could he buy--"
"Quite so! How could he?"
"Ay, that's remarkable," said the inspector thoughtfully. "Talk away, Mr. Holmes. I'm just loving it. It's fine!"
Holmes smiled. He was always warmed by genuine admiration--the characteristic of the real artist. "What about Birlstone?" he asked.
"We've time yet," said the inspector, glancing at his watch. "I've a cab at the door, and it won't take us twenty minutes to Victoria. But about this picture: I thought you told me once, Mr. Holmes, that you had never met Professor Moriarty."
"No, I never have."
"Then how do you know about his rooms?"
"Ah, that's another matter. I have been three times in his rooms, twice waiting for him under different pretexts and leaving before he came. Once--well, I can hardly tell about the once to an official detective. It was on the last occasion that I took the liberty of running over his papers--with the most unexpected results."
"You found something compromising?"
"Absolutely nothing. That was what amazed me. However, you have now seen the point of the picture. It shows him to be a very wealthy man. How did he acquire wealth? He is unmarried. His younger brother is a station master in the west of England. His chair is worth seven hundred a year. And he owns a Greuze."
"Well?"
"Surely the inference is plain."
"You mean that he has a great income and that he must earn it in an illegal fashion?"
"Exactly. Of course I have other reasons for thinking so--dozens of exiguous threads which lead vaguely up towards the centre of the web where the poisonous, motionless creature is lurking. I only mention the Greuze because it brings the matter within the range of your own observation."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, I admit that what you say is interesting: it's more than interesting--it's just wonderful. But let us have it a little clearer if you can. Is it forgery, coining, burglary--where does the money come from?"
"Have you ever read of Jonathan Wild?"
"Well, the name has a familiar sound. Someone in a novel, was he not? I don't take much stock of detectives in novels--chaps that do things and never let you see how they do them. That's just inspiration: not business."
"Jonathan Wild wasn't a detective, and he wasn't in a novel. He was a master criminal, and he lived last century--1750 or thereabouts."
"Then he's no use to me. I'm a practical man."
"Mr. Mac, the most practical thing that you ever did in your life would be to shut yourself up for three months and read twelve hours a day at the annals of crime. Everything comes in circles--even Professor Moriarty. Jonathan Wild was the hidden force of the London criminals, to whom he sold his brains and his organization on a fifteen per cent. commission. The old wheel turns, and the same spoke comes up. It's all been done before, and will be again. I'll tell you one or two things about Moriarty which may interest you."
"You'll interest me, right enough."
"I happen to know who is the first link in his chain--a chain with this Napoleon-gone-wrong at one end, and a hundred broken fighting men, pickpockets, blackmailers, and card sharpers at the other, with every sort of crime in between. His chief of staff is Colonel Sebastian Moran, as aloof and guarded and inaccessible to the law as himself. What do you think he pays him?"
"I'd like to hear."
"Six thousand a year. That's paying for brains, you see--the American business principle. I learned that detail quite by chance. It's more than the Prime Minister gets. That gives you an idea of Moriarty's gains and of the scale on which he works. Another point: I made it my business to hunt down some of Moriarty's checks lately--just common innocent checks that he pays his household bills with. They were drawn on six different banks. Does that make any impression on your mind?"
"Queer, certainly! But what do you gather from it?"
"That he wanted no gossip about his wealth. No single man should know what he had. I have no doubt that he has twenty banking accounts; the bulk of his fortune abroad in the Deutsche Bank or the Credit Lyonnais as likely as not. Sometime when you have a year or two to spare I commend to you the study of Professor Moriarty."
Inspector MacDonald had grown steadily more impressed as the conversation proceeded. He had lost himself in his interest. Now his practical Scotch intelligence brought him back with a snap to the matter in hand.
"He can keep, anyhow," said he. "You've got us side-tracked with your interesting anecdotes, Mr. Holmes. What really counts is your remark that there is some connection between the professor and the crime. That you get from the warning received through the man Porlock. Can we for our present practical needs get any further than that?"
"We may form some conception as to the motives of the crime. It is, as I gather from your original remarks, an inexplicable, or at least an unexplained, murder. Now, presuming that the source of the crime is as we suspect it to be, there might be two different motives. In the first place, I may tell you that Moriarty rules with a rod of iron over his people. His discipline is tremendous. There is only one punishment in his code. It is death. Now we might suppose that this murdered man--this Douglas whose approaching fate was known by one of the arch-criminal's subordinates--had in some way betrayed the chief. His punishment followed, and would be known to all--if only to put the fear of death into them."
"Well, that is one suggestion, Mr. Holmes."
"The other is that it has been engineered by Moriarty in the ordinary course of business. Was there any robbery?"
"I have not heard."
"If so, it would, of course, be against the first hypothesis and in favour of the second. Moriarty may have been engaged to engineer it on a promise of part spoils, or he may have been paid so much down to manage it. Either is possible. But whichever it may be, or if it is some third combination, it is down at Birlstone that we must seek the solution. I know our man too well to suppose that he has left anything up here which may lead us to him."
"Then to Birlstone we must go!" cried MacDonald, jumping from his chair. "My word! it's later than I thought. I can give you, gentlemen, five minutes for preparation, and that is all."
"And ample for us both," said Holmes, as he sprang up and hastened to change from his dressing gown to his coat. "While we are on our way, Mr. Mac, I will ask you to be good enough to tell me all about it."
"All about it" proved to be disappointingly little, and yet there was enough to assure us that the case before us might well be worthy of the expert's closest attention. He brightened and rubbed his thin hands together as he listened to the meagre but remarkable details. A long series of sterile weeks lay behind us, and here at last there was a fitting object for those remarkable powers which, like all special gifts, become irksome to their owner when they are not in use. That razor brain blunted and rusted with inaction.
Sherlock Holmes's eyes glistened, his pale cheeks took a warmer hue, and his whole eager face shone with an inward light when the call for work reached him. Leaning forward in the cab, he listened intently to MacDonald's short sketch of the problem which awaited us in Sussex. The inspector was himself dependent, as he explained to us, upon a scribbled account forwarded to him by the milk train in the early hours of the morning. White Mason, the local officer, was a personal friend, and hence MacDonald had been notified much more promptly than is usual at Scotland Yard when provincials need their assistance. It is a very cold scent upon which the Metropolitan expert is generally asked to run.
"DEAR INSPECTOR MACDONALD (said the letter which he read to us):
"Official requisition for your services is in separate envelope. This is for your private eye. Wire me what train in the morning you can get for Birlstone, and I will meet it--or have it met if I am too occupied. This case is a snorter. Don't waste a moment in getting started. If you can bring Mr. Holmes, please do so; for he will find something after his own heart. We would think the whole had been fixed up for theatrical effect if there wasn't a dead man in the middle of it. My word! it IS a snorter."
"Your friend seems to be no fool," remarked Holmes.
"No, sir, White Mason is a very live man, if I am any judge."
"Well, have you anything more?"
"Only that he will give us every detail when we meet."
"Then how did you get at Mr. Douglas and the fact that he had been horribly murdered?"
"That was in the inclosed official report. It didn't say 'horrible': that's not a recognized official term. It gave the name John Douglas. It mentioned that his injuries had been in the head, from the discharge of a shotgun. It also mentioned the hour of the alarm, which was close on to midnight last night. It added that the case was undoubtedly one of murder, but that no arrest had been made, and that the case was one which presented some very perplexing and extraordinary features. That's absolutely all we have at present, Mr. Holmes."
"Then, with your permission, we will leave it at that, Mr. Mac. The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession. I can see only two things for certain at present--a great brain in London, and a dead man in Sussex. It's the chain between that we are going to trace."