一天早上，正当我和我的妻子在一起进早餐的时候，我们的女仆送来了一封电报。那是歇洛克·福尔摩斯打来的，电报内容是这样的：
　　 能否抽暇数日？顷获英国西部为博斯科姆比溪谷惨
　　 案事来电。如能驾临，不胜欣幸。该地空气及景致极佳。
　　 望十一时十五分从帕丁顿起程。
　　 “亲爱的，你看怎么样？"我的妻子隔着餐桌看着我说，“你想去吗？”
　　 “我真不知道怎么说才好。我现在要做的事情多得很。”
　　 “噢，安斯特鲁瑟会替你把工作做了的。你最近脸色有点苍白。我想，换换环境对你是有好处的，何况你又总是对歇洛克·福尔摩斯侦查的案件那么感兴趣。”
　　 “想想我从他办案中得到的教益，我要不去，那就太对不其他了。"我回答道，“但是，如果我要去的话，就得立即收拾行装，因为现在离出发的时间只有半个小时了。”
　　 我在阿富汗度过的戎马生涯，至少使我养成了行动敏捷、几乎可以随时动身的习惯。
　　 我随身携带的生活必需岂不多，所以在半小时内我就带着我的旅行皮包上了出租马车，车声辚辚地驶向帕丁顿车站。歇洛克·福尔摩斯在站台上踱来踱去。他穿着一件长长的灰色旅行斗篷，戴着一顶紧紧箍着头的便帽；他那枯瘦细长的身躯就显得更加突出了。
　　 “华生，你能来真是太好了，"他说道，“有个完全靠得住的人和我在一起，情况就大不相同了。地方上的协助往往不是毫无价值，就是带有偏见。你去占着那角落里的两个座位，我买票去。”
　　 在车厢里，除了福尔摩斯随身带来的一大卷乱七八糟的报纸外，只有我们两个乘客。他在这些报纸里东翻西找，然后阅读，有时记点笔记，有时沉默深思，直到我们已经过了雷丁为止。接着，他忽然把所有报纸卷成一大捆，扔到行李架上。
　　 “你听说过有关这个案子的任何情况吗？"他问道。
　　 “一无所闻。我有好几天没有看报纸了。”
　　 “伦敦出版的报纸的报道都不很详细。我一直在看最近的报纸，想掌握一些具体情况。据我推测，这件案子好象是那种极难侦破的简单案件之一。”
　　 “这话听起来有点自相矛盾。”
　　 “但这是一个意味深长的真理。异常现象几乎总是可以为你提供线索。可是，一个越是毫无特征和气平常常的罪行就越是难以确实证明它是某个人所犯的。然而，这个案件，他们已经认定是一起儿子谋杀父亲的严重案件。”
　　 “这么说，那是个谋杀案了？”
　　 “唔，他们是这样猜想的。在我有机会亲自侦查这个案件之前，我决不会想当然地肯定是这样。我现在就把我到目前为止所能了解到的情况，简短地给你说一下。
　　 “博斯科姆比溪谷位于赫里福德郡，是距离罗斯不很远①的一个乡间地区。约翰·特纳先生是那个地区的一个最大的农场主。他在澳大利亚发了财，若干年前返回故乡。他把他所拥有的农场之一，哈瑟利农场，租给了也曾经在澳大利亚呆过的查尔斯·麦卡锡先生。他们两人是在那个殖民地互相认识的。因此，当他们定居的时候，彼此尽可能亲近地结为比邻是很自然的。显然特纳比较富有，所以麦卡锡成了他的佃户。但是，看来他们还是和过去常在一平时一样，是完全平等的关系。麦卡锡有一个儿子，是个十八岁的小伙子，特纳有个同样年龄的独生女。他们两个人的妻子都已不在人世。他们好象一直避免和邻近的英国人家有任何社交往来，过着隐居的生活。麦卡锡父子俩倒是喜欢运动的，因此经常出现在附近举行的赛马场上。麦卡锡有两个仆人，一个男仆和一个侍女。特纳一家人口相当多，大约有五六口人。这就是我尽可能了解到的这两家人的情况。现在再说些具体事实。
　　 “六月三日，即上星期一下午三点钟左右，麦卡锡从他在哈瑟利的家里外出，步行到博斯科姆比池塘。这个池塘是从博斯科姆比溪谷倾泻而下的溪流汇集而成的一个小湖。上午，他曾经同他的仆人到罗斯去，并对仆人说过，他必须抓紧时间办事，因为下午三点钟有一个重要约会。从这个约会之后，他就没有再活着回来。
　　 “哈瑟利农场距离博斯科姆比池塘四分之一英里，当他走
　　 ①英格兰中西部的一个郡。——译者注过这地段时，曾有两个人目睹。一个是个老妇人，报纸没有提到她的姓名，另一个是特纳先生雇用的猎场看守人威廉·克劳德。这两个人证都宣誓作证说，麦卡锡先生当时是单独一个人路过的。那个猎场看守人还说，在他看见麦卡锡先生走过去几分钟后，麦卡锡先生的儿子詹姆斯·麦卡锡先生腋下夹着一支枪也在同一条路上走过去。他确信，当时这个父亲确实是在尾随在他后面的儿子的视程之内。在他晚上听说发生了那惨案之前，他没有再想过这件事。
　　 “在猎场看守人威廉·克劳德目睹麦卡锡父子走过直至看不见了之后，还有别人见到他们。博斯科姆比池塘附近都是茂密的树林，池塘四周则是杂草和芦苇丛生。一个十四岁的女孩子，博斯科姆比溪谷庄园看门人的女儿佩兴斯·莫兰，当时在那周围的一个树林里采摘鲜花。她说，她在那里的时候看见麦卡锡先生和他的儿子在树林边靠近池塘的地方；当时他们好象正在激烈争吵，她听见老麦卡锡先生在大骂他的儿子；她还看见那儿子举起了他的手，好象要打他的父亲似的。她被他们暴跳如雷的行为吓得赶快跑开，回家后便对她母亲说，她离开树林时麦卡锡父子两人正在博斯科姆比池塘附近吵架，她恐怕他们马上要扭打起来。她的话音刚落，小麦卡锡便跑进房来说，他发现他父亲已死在树林里，他向看门人求助。他当时十分激动，他的枪和帽子都没有带，在他的右手和袖子上都可以看到刚沾上的血迹。他们随他到了那里，便发现尸首躺在池塘旁边的草地上。死者头部被人用某种又重又钝的武器猛击，凹了进去。从伤痕看，很可能是他儿子甩枪托打的，那枝枪扔在草地上，离尸体不过几步远。在这种情况下，那个年轻人当即遭到逮捕，星期二传讯时被宣告为犯有'蓄意谋杀'罪，星AE赲f1三将提交罗斯地方法官审判，罗斯地方法官现已把这个案件提交巡回审判法庭去审理。这些就是由验尸官和违警罪法庭对这个案子处理的主要事实经过。”
　　 我当即说：“我简直难以想象能有比这更恶毒的案件了。如果可以用现场作为证据来证明罪行的话，那么现在正是这样一个案子。”
　　 福尔摩斯若有所思地回答说：“拿现场做证据是很靠不住的。它好象可以直截了当地证实某一种情况，但是，如果你稍为改变一个观点，那你就可能会发现它同样好象可以明确无误地证实迥然不同的另一种情况。但是，必须承认，案情对这个年轻人十分不利。他可能确实就是杀人犯。在附近倒有几个人，其中有农场主的女儿特纳小姐，相信他是清白无辜的，并且委托雷斯垂德承办这件案子，为小麦卡锡的利益辩护，——你可能还记得雷斯垂德就是同'血字的研究'一案有关的那个人——但是，雷斯垂德感到这个案子相当难办而求助于我。因此，这就是两个中年绅士以每小时五十英里的速度飞奔而来，而不在吃饱早餐以后留在家里享享清福的缘故。”
　　 我说：“我看这些事实太明显了，恐怕你从处理这个案子中得不到多大的好处。”
　　 他笑着回答说：“没有比明显的事实更容易使你上当的了。况且我们也许碰巧可以找到其他一些在雷斯垂德看来并不明显的明显事实。我说，我们将用雷斯垂德根本没有能力使用甚至理解不了的方法来肯定或推翻他的那一套说法。你对我很了解，我这样说你不会认为我在吹牛吧。随便举个例子吧，我十分清楚地看到你卧室的窗户是在右边，而我怀疑雷斯垂德先生连这样一个不言自明的事实是不是注意到了。”
　　 “那你怎么能知道……”
　　 “我亲爱的伙伴，我对你很了解，我知道你有军人所特有的那种整洁的习惯。你每天早上都刮胡子，在现在这个季节里，你借着阳光刮。你刮左颊时，越往下就越刮不干净，这样刮到下巴底下时，那就很不干净了。很清楚，左边的光线没有右边的好。我不能想象你这样爱整洁的人，在两边光线一样的情况下，把脸刮成这个样子。我说这个小事是拿它作为观察问题和推理的例证。这是我的专长，这很可能对我们当前正在进行的调查有所助益。所以，对在传讯中提出的一两个次要问题值得加以考虑。”
　　 “那是什么？”
　　 “看来没有当场逮捕他，而是回到哈瑟利农场以后才逮捕的。当巡官通知他被捕了的时候，他说，他对此并不破怪，这是他罪有应得。他的这段话自然起了消除验尸陪审团心目中还存在的任何一点怀疑的作用。”
　　 我禁不住喊道，“那是自己坦白交代。”
　　 “不是，因为随后有人提出异议说，他是清白无辜的。”
　　 “在发生了这么一系列事件之后才有人提出异议，这起码是十分使人疑心的。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“正相反，那是目前我在黑暗中所能看到的最清楚的一线光芒。不管他是多么天真，他不可能愚蠢到连当时的情况对他十分不利这一点都茫然无知。如果他被捕时表示惊讶或假装气愤，我倒会把它当作十分可疑的行为来看待，因为在那种情况下表示惊讶和气愤肯定是不自然的，而对一个诡计多端的人来说，这倒象是个妙计。他坦然承认当时的情况，这说明他要不是清白无辜，那就是很能自我克制的坚强的人。至于他说罪有应得的话，如果你考虑一下就会觉得同样并非是不自然的，那就是：他就站在他父亲的尸体旁边，而且毫无疑问恰恰在这一天他忘记了当儿子的孝道，竟然还和他父亲吵起嘴来，甚至正如那个提供十分重要的证据的小女孩所说的，还举起手好象要打他似的。我看他那段话里的自我谴责和内疚的表示是一个身心健全的人而不是犯了罪的人的表现。”
　　 我摇头说，“有许多人在远比这个案子的证据少得多的情况下就被绞死了。”
　　 “他们是这样被绞死的。但是许多被绞死的人死得冤枉。”
　　 “那个年轻人自己是怎么交代的？”
　　 “他自己的交代对支持他的人们鼓舞作用不大，其中倒有一两点给人一些起示。你可以在这里找到，你自己看好了。”
　　 他从那捆报纸中抽出一份赫里福德郡当地的报纸，把其中一页翻折过来，指出那不幸的年轻人对所发生的情况交代的那一大段。我安稳地坐在车厢的一个角落里专心致志地阅读起来。其内容如下：
　　 死者的独生子詹姆斯·麦卡锡先生当时出庭作证如下：
　　 “我曾离家三天去布里斯托尔，而在上星期一（三日）上午回家。我到达时，父亲不在家，女佣人告诉我，他和马车夫约翰·科布驱车到罗斯去了。我到家不久就听见他的马车驶进院子的声音，我从窗口望去，看见他下车后很快从院子往外走，我当时并不知道他要到哪里去。于是我拿着枪漫步朝博斯科姆比池塘那个方向走去，打算到池塘的那一边的养兔场去看看。正如猎场看守人威廉·克劳德在他的证词所说的我在路上见到了他。但是他以为我是在跟踪我父亲，那是他搞错了。我根本不知道他在我前面。当我走到距离池塘有一百码的地方的时候我听见'库伊！'的喊声，这喊声是我们父子之间常用的信号。于是我赶快往前走，发现他站在池塘旁边。他当时见到我好象很惊讶，并且粗声粗平地问我到那里干什么。我们随即交谈了一会，跟着就开始争吵，并且几乎动手打了起来，因为我父亲脾气很暴。我看见他火气越来越大，大得难以控制，便离开了他，转身返回哈瑟利农场，但是我走了不过一百五十码左右，便听到我背后传来一声可怕的喊叫，促使我赶快再跑回去。我发现我父亲已经气息奄奄躺在地上，头部受了重伤。我把枪扔在一边，将他抱起来，但他几乎当即断了气。我跪在他身旁约几分钟，然后到特纳先生的看门人那里去求援，因为他的房子离我最近。当我回到那里时，我没有看见任何人在我父亲附近，我根本不知道他是怎么受伤的。他不是一个很得人心的人，因为他待人冷淡，举止令人望而生畏；但是，就我所知，他没有现在要跟他算帐的敌人。我对这件事就了解这么些。”
　　 验尸官：“你父亲临终前对你说过什么没有？”
　　 证人：“他含糊不清地说了几句话，但我只听到他好象提到一个'拉特'。”
　　 验尸官：“你认为这话是什么意思？”
　　 证人：“我不懂它是什么意思，我认为他当时已经神志昏迷。”
　　 验尸官：“你和你父亲最后一次争吵的原因是什么？”
　　 证人：“我不想回答这个问题。”
　　 验尸官：“看来我必须坚持要你回答。”
　　 证人：“我真的不可能告诉你。我可以向你保证，这和随后发生的惨案毫无关系。”
　　 验尸官：“这要由法庭来裁决。我无须向你指出你也该明白，拒绝回答问题，在将来可能提出起诉时，对于你的案情将相当不利的。”
　　 证人：“我仍然要坚持拒绝回答。”
　　 验尸官：“据我了解，‘库伊'的喊声是你们父子之间常用的信号。”
　　 证人：“是的。”
　　 验尸官：“那么，他还没有见到你，甚至还不知道你已从布里斯托尔回来就喊这个信号，那是怎么回事呢？”
　　 证人（显得相当慌乱）：“这个，我可不知道。”
　　 一个陪审员：“当你听到喊声，并且发现你父亲受重伤的时候，你没有看见什么引起你怀疑的东西吗？”
　　 证人：“没有什么确切的东西。”
　　 验尸官：“你这话是什么意思？”
　　 证人：“我赶紧跑到那空地的时候，思想很乱，很紧张，我脑子里只是想到我的父亲。不过，我有这么一个模糊的印象：在我往前跑的时候，在我左边地上有一件东西。它好象是灰色的，仿佛是大衣之类的东西，也可能是件方格呢的披风。当我从我父亲身边站起来时，我转身去找它，但它已经无影无踪了。”
　　 “你是说，在你去求援之前就已经不见了？”
　　 “是的，已经不见了。”
　　 “你不能肯定它是什么东西？”
　　 “不能肯定，我只感到那里有件东西。”
　　 “它离尸体有多远？”
　　 “大约十几码远。”
　　 “离树林边缘有多远？”
　　 “差不多同样距离。”
　　 “那么，如果有人把它拿走，那是在你离开它只有十几码远的时候。”
　　 “是的，但那是在我背向着它的时候。”
　　 对证人的审讯到此结束。
　　 我一面看这个专栏一面说，“我觉得验尸官最后说的那几句话对小麦卡锡相当严厉。他有理由来提醒证人注意供词中相互矛盾的地方，那就是他父亲还没有见到他时就给他发出信号；他还要求证人注意，他拒绝交代他和他父亲谈话的细节以及他在叙述死者临终前说的话时所讲的那些破特的话。他说，所有这一切都是对这个儿子十分不利的。”
　　 福尔摩斯暗自好笑。他伸着腿半躺在软垫靠椅上，说：“你和验尸官都力图突出最有说服力的要点，使之对这个年轻人不利。可是难道你还不明白，你时而说这个年轻人想象力太丰富，时而又说他太缺乏想象力，这是什么意思呢？太缺乏想象力，因为他未能编造他和他父亲吵架的原因来博得陪审团的同情；想象力太丰富，因为从他自己的内在感官发出了夸大其词的所谓死者临终前提及的'拉特'的怪叫声，还有那忽然间不见了的衣服。不是这样的，先生，我将从这个年轻人所说的是实情这样一个观点出发去处理这个案子，我们看看这一假设能把我们引到哪里。这是我的彼特拉克诗集袖珍本，你拿①去看吧。我在亲临作案现场之前，不想再说一句关于这个案子的话了。我们去斯温登吃午饭。我看我们在二十分钟内就可以到那里。”
　　 当我们经过风景秀丽的斯特劳德溪谷，越过了河面很宽、闪闪发光的塞文河之后，终于到达罗斯这个风景宜人的小乡镇。一个细长个子、貌似侦探、诡秘狡诈的男人正在站台上等候我们。尽管他遵照周围农村的习惯穿了浅棕色的风衣和打了皮裹腿，我还是一眼就认出他是苏格兰场的雷斯垂德。我们和他一道乘车到赫里福德阿姆斯旅馆，在那里已经为我们预约了房间。
　　 当我们坐下来喝茶的时候，雷斯垂德说：“我已经雇了一辆马车。我知道你的刚毅的个性，你是恨不得马上就到作案的现场去的。”
　　 福尔摩斯回答说：“你实在太客气了。去不去全取决于晴雨表多少度。”
　　 雷斯垂德听了这话为之愕然。他说：“我没有听懂你这话是什么意思。”
　　 ①专写十四行诗的意大利著名诗人。——译者注
　　 “水银柱上是多少度？我看是二十九度。没有风，天上无云。我这里有整整一盒等着要抽的香烟，而这里的沙发又比一般农村旅馆讨厌的陈设要好得多。我想今晚我大概不用马车了吧。”
　　 雷斯垂德放声大笑起来。他说：“你无疑已经根据报纸上的报道下了结论。这个案子的案情是一清二楚的，你愈是深入了解就愈是清楚。当然，我们也确实是不好拒绝这样一位名副其实的女士的要求。她听说过你的大名，她要征询你的意见，虽然我一再对她说，凡是我都办不到的事，你也是办不到的。啊，我的天呀！她的马车已经到了门前。”
　　 他的话音刚落，一位我有生以来见到过的最秀丽的年轻妇女急促地走进了我们的房间。她蓝色的眼睛晶莹明亮，双唇张开，两颊微露红晕，她当时是那么激动，那么忧心忡忡，以致把她天生的馻e持也抛到九霄云外了。
　　 她喊了声：“噢，歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生，"同时轮流打量我们两个人，终于凭着一个女人的机敏的直觉凝视着我的同伴，“你来了我很高兴，我赶到这里来是为了向你说明，我知道詹姆斯不是凶手。我希望你开始侦查时就知道这点，不要让你自己怀疑这一点。我们从小就互相了解，我对他的缺点比谁都清楚；他这个人心软的很，连个苍蝇都不肯伤害。凡是真正了解他的人都认为这种控告太荒谬了。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“我希望我们能够为他澄清。请相信我，我一定尽力而为。”
　　 “你已经看过了证词。你已经有了某一些结论了吧？你没有看出其中有漏洞和毛病吗？难道你自己不认为他是无辜的吗？”
　　 “我想很可能是无辜的。”
　　 她把头往后一仰，以轻蔑的眼光看着雷斯垂德大声地说："好啦！你注意听着！他给了我希望。”
　　 雷斯垂德耸了耸肩。他说：“我看我的同事结论下得太轻率了吧。”
　　 “但是，他是正确的。噢！我知道他是正确的。詹姆斯决没有干这种事。至于他和他父亲争吵的原因，我敢肯定，他之所以不愿意对验尸官讲是因为这牵涉到我。”
　　 福尔摩斯问道：“那是怎样牵涉到你的呢？”
　　 “时间已不允许我再有任何隐瞒了。詹姆斯和他父亲为了我的缘故有很大分歧。麦卡锡先生气切希望我们结婚。我和詹姆斯从小就象兄妹一样相爱。当然，他还年轻，缺乏生活经验，而且……而且……唔，他自然还不想现在马上结婚。所以他们吵了起来。我肯定这是吵架的原因之一。”
　　 福尔摩斯问道：“那你的父亲呢？他同意这门亲事吗？”
　　 “不，他也反对。赞成的只有麦卡锡先生一个人。”
　　 当福尔摩斯表示怀疑的眼光投向她时，她鲜艳的、年轻的脸忽然红了一下。
　　 他说：“谢谢你提供这个情况。如果我明天登门拜访，我可以会见你父亲吗？”
　　 “我恐怕医生不会同意你见他。”
　　 “医生？”
　　 “是的，你没有听说吗？可怜的父亲健康不佳已经多年了，而这件事使他身体完全垮了。他不得不卧病在床，威罗医生说，他的健康受到极度损坏，他的神经系统极度衰弱。麦卡锡先生生前是往日在维多利亚唯一认识我父亲的人。”
　　 “哈！在维多利亚！这很重要。”
　　 “是的，在矿场。”
　　 “这就对啦，在金矿场；据我了解，特纳先生是在那里发了财的。”
　　 “是的，确实这样。”
　　 “谢谢你，特纳小姐。你给了我有重要意义的帮助。”
　　 “如果你明天得到任何消息的话，请即告诉我。你一定会去监狱看詹姆斯的。噢，如果你去了，福尔摩斯先生，务必告诉他，我知道他是无辜的。”
　　 “我一定照办，特纳小姐。”
　　 “我现在必须回家了，因为我爸爸病得很厉害，而且我离开他的时候他总是很不放心。再见，上帝保佑你们一切顺利。”她离开我们房间的时候，也是同进来时那样的激动而又急促。我们随即听到她乘坐的马车在街上行驶时辚辚的车轮滚动声。
　　 雷斯垂德在沉默了几分钟以后严肃地说：“福尔摩斯，我真替你感到羞愧。你为什么要叫人家对毫无希望的事抱希望呢？我自己不是个软心肠的人，但是，我认为你这样做太残忍了。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“我认为我能想办法为詹姆斯·麦卡锡昭雪。你有没有得到准许到监狱里去看他的命令？”
　　 “有，但只有你和我可以去。”
　　 “那么，我要重新考虑是否要出去的决定了。我们今天晚上还有时间乘火车到赫里福德去看他吗？”
　　 “时间有的是。”
　　 “那么我们就这么办吧。华生，我怕你会觉得事情进行得太慢了，不过，我这次去只要一两个小时就够了。”
　　 我和他们一道步行到火车站，然后在这个小城镇的街头闲逛了一会儿，最后还是回到了旅馆。我躺在旅馆的沙发上，拿起一本黄封面的廉价的通俗小说，希望从中得到一些趣味，以资消遣。但是那微不足道的小说情节同我们正在侦查的深奥莫测的案情相比显得十分肤浅。因此，我的注意力不断地从小说虚构的情节转移到当前的现实上来，最后我终于把那本小说扔得远远的，全神贯注地去考虑当天所发生的事件。假定说这个不幸的青年人所说的事情经过完全属实，那么，从他离开他父亲到听到他父亲的尖声叫喊而急忙赶回到那林间空地的刹那之间，究竟发生了什么怪事，发生了什么完全意想不到和异乎寻常的灾难呢？这是某种骇人听闻的突然事故。但是这可能是什么样的事故呢？难道我不能起我医生的直觉从死者的伤痕上看出点问题吗？我拉铃叫人把县里出版的周报送来。周报上载有逐字逐句的审讯记录。在法医的验尸证明书上写道：死者脑后的第三个左顶骨和枕骨的左半部因受到笨重武器的一下猛击而破裂。我在自己头部比划那被猛击的位置，显而易见，这一猛击是来自死者背后的。这一情况在某种程度上对被告有利，因为有人看见他是和他父亲面对面争吵的。不过，这一点到底说明不了多大问题，因为死者也可能是在他转过身去以后被打死的。不管怎么样，提醒福尔摩斯注意这一点也许还是值得的。此外，那个人死的时候特别喊了一声"拉特"。这可能意味着什么呢？这不可能是神志昏迷时说的呓语。一般来说，被突然一击而濒临死亡的人是不会说呓语的。不会的，这似乎更象是想说明他是怎么遇害的。可是，那它又能说明什么呢？为了找到言之成理的解释，我绞尽了脑汁。还有小麦卡锡看见灰色衣服的事件。如果这一情况属实，那么凶手一定是在逃跑时掉下了身上穿的衣服，也许是他的大衣，而且他居然胆敢在正当小麦卡锡跪下来的一瞬间，也就是在他背后不过十几步的地方把掉下的衣服取走。这整个案情是多么错综复杂，不可思议啊！对于雷斯垂德的一些意见，我并不觉得破怪。但是，由于我对歇洛克·福尔摩斯的洞察力有很大信心，所以，只要不断地有新的事实来加强他认为小麦卡锡是无辜的这一信念，那么我认为不是没有希望的。
　　 歇洛克·福尔摩斯回来得很晚。因为雷斯垂德在城里住下了，他是一个人回来的。
　　 他坐下来的时候说，“晴雨表的水银柱仍然很高，希望在我们检查现场之前千万不要下雨，这事关重大。另一方面，我们去做这种细致的工作必须精神十分饱满、十分敏锐才行。我们不希望由于长途跋涉而疲劳不堪的时候去做这个工作。我见到了小麦卡锡。”
　　 “你从他那里了解到什么情况？”
　　 “没有了解到什么情况。”
　　 “他不能提供点线索吗？”
　　 “他一点线索也提供不了。我一度有过这样的想法：他知道那是谁干的，而他是在为他或她掩盖。但是，我现在确信，他和别人一样对这件事迷惑不解。他不是一个很机敏的青年，虽然相貌很漂亮，我倒觉得他心地还是忠实可靠的。”
　　 我说：“如果他真的不愿意和象特纳小姐这样十分有魅力的年轻姑娘结婚的话，那我认为他真太没有眼力了。”
　　 “噢，这里面还有一桩相当痛苦的故事哩。这个小伙子爱她爱得发了疯似的。但是，大约两年前，那时他还不过是个少年，也就是在他真正了解她以前，她曾经离家五年，在一所寄宿学校读书。这个傻瓜在布里斯托尔被一个酒吧女郎缠住，并在婚姻登记所和她登记结婚，你看他有多傻？谁也不知道有这件事，而你可以想象他干了这件傻事之后是多么着急，因为他没有做他显然应该做的事，而是做了他自己明知是绝对不应该做的事。这样他是要受责备的。当他父亲在最后一次和他谈话中亟力劝他向特纳小姐求婚的时候，他就是因为曾干了那件十足疯狂的蠢事而急得双臂乱舞的。而且，他无力供养自己，而他的父亲为人十分刻薄，如果他知道实情，肯定会彻底抛其他的。前三天他是在布里斯托尔和他的那个当酒吧女郎的妻子一起度过的。当时他父亲对他身在何处，全无所知。请注意这一点。这是很重要的。但是，坏事变成了好事。那个酒吧女郎从报上看到他身陷囹圄，案情严重，可能被处绞刑，于是干脆将他抛弃了。她写信告诉他，她原是有夫之妇，此人在百慕大码头工作，所以在他们之间并没有真正的夫妻关系。我想这一消息对备受苦难的小麦卡锡是一种告慰。”
　　 “但是，如果他是无辜的，那又是谁干的呢？”
　　 “哦！是谁吗？我要提醒你特别注意两点。第一，被谋杀者和某人约定在池塘见面，这个人不可能是他的儿子，因为他的儿子正在外面，他不知道他什么时候回来。第二，在被谋杀者知道他儿子已经回来之前，有人听见他大声喊'库伊'！这两点是能否破案的关键。现在，如果你乐意的话，让我们来谈谈乔治·梅瑞秋斯吧。那些次要的问题我们明天再说吧。"①
　　 正如福尔摩斯预言的，那天没有下雨，一清早就是晴空万里。上午九时，雷斯垂德乘坐马车来邀我们。我们随即动身到哈瑟利农场和博斯科姆比池塘去。
　　 雷斯垂德说：“今天早上有重大新闻。据说庄园里的特纳先生病势严重，已经危在旦夕。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“我想他大概是个老头儿吧。”
　　 “六十岁左右，他侨居国外时身体就已经弄垮了，他健康衰退已有年月了。现在这件事使他深受不良影响。他是麦卡锡的老朋友了，而且我还可以补充说一句话，他同时还是麦卡锡的一个大恩人呢，因为我了解到，他把哈瑟利农场租给麦卡锡，连租金都不要。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“真的！这倒很有趣。”
　　 “噢，是的！他千方百计地帮助他，这一带的人无不称道他对他的仁慈友爱。”
　　 “真的是这样？那么这个麦卡锡看来本来是一无所有的，他受了特纳那么多的恩惠，竟然还说要他的儿子和特纳的女儿结婚，而且这个女儿可想而知是全部产业的继承人，而且采取的态度又是如此的骄横，好象这不过是一项计划，只要一提出来，所有其他的人都必须遵循似的。你们对这一切不感到有点破怪吗？尤其是，我们知道特纳本人是反对这门亲事的，那
　　 ①英国著名文学家。——译者注不是更破怪了吗？这些都是特纳的女儿亲口告诉我们的。你没有从这些情况中推断出点什么来吗？”
　　 雷斯垂德一面对我使了个眼色一面说：“我们已经用演绎法来推断过了。福尔摩斯，我觉得，不去轻率地空发议论和想入非非，专门去调查核实事实就已经够难办的了。”
　　 福尔摩斯很有风趣地说：“你说得对，你确实觉得核实事实很难办。”
　　 雷斯垂德有点激动地回答说：“不管怎么样，我已经掌握了一个你似乎难以掌握的事实。”
　　 “那就是……”
　　 “那就是麦卡锡死于小麦卡锡之手，与此相反的一切说法都是空谈。”
　　 福尔摩斯笑着说：“唔，月光总比迷雾要明亮些。左边不①就是哈瑟利农场了吗，你们看是不是？”
　　 “是的，那就是。”
　　 那是一所占地面积很大、样式令人感到舒适惬意的两层石板瓦顶楼房，灰色的墙上长着的黄色苔藓。然而窗帘低垂，烟囱也不冒烟，显得很凄凉的样子，仿佛这次事件的恐怖气氛仍然沉甸甸地压在它的上面似的。我们在门口叫门，里面的女仆应福尔摩斯的要求，让我们看了她主人死的时候穿的那双靴子，也让我们看了他儿子的一双靴子，虽然不是他当时穿着的那双。福尔摩斯在这些靴子上的七八个不同部位
　　 ①原文ｍｏｏｎｓｈｉｎｅ既可当空谈讲，也可当作月光讲。这里是双关语。——译者注仔细量了一量之后，要求女仆把我们领到院子里去，我们从院里沿着一条弯弯曲曲的小路走到博斯科姆比池塘。
　　 每当福尔摩斯这样热切地探究细索的时候，他变得和原来判若两人。只熟悉贝克街那个沉默寡言的思想家和逻辑学家的人，这时将会是认不出他来的。他的脸色一会儿涨得通红，一会儿又阴沉得发黑。他双眉紧蹙，形成了两道粗粗的黑线，眉毛下面那双眼睛射出刚毅的光芒。他脸部朝下，两肩向前躬着，嘴唇紧闭，他那细长而坚韧的脖子上，青筋突出，犹如鞭绳。他张大鼻孔，完完全全象渴望捕猎物的野兽一样；他是那么全神贯注地进行侦察，谁要向他提个问题或说句话，他全当作耳边风，或者充其量给你一个急促的不耐烦的粗暴回答。他静静地迅速沿着横贯草地的这条小路前进，然后通过树林走到博斯科姆比池塘。那里是块沼泽地，地面潮湿，而且整个地区都是这个样子，地面上有许多脚印，脚印还散布于小路和路畔两侧长着短草的地面上。福尔摩斯有时急急忙忙地往前赶，有时停下来一动也不动。有一次他稍微绕了一下走到草地里去。雷斯垂德和我走在后边，这个官方侦探抱着一种冷漠和蔑视的态度，而我呢，当时兴致勃勃地注视着我的朋友的每一个行动，因为我深信他的每个行动都是有一定目的的。
　　 博斯科姆比池塘是大约五十码方圆、周围长满芦苇的一小片水域，它的位置是在哈瑟利农场和富裕的特纳先生私人花园之间的边界上。池塘彼岸是一片树林，我们可以看到耸立于树林上面的房子的红色尖顶，这是有钱的地主住址的标志。挨着哈瑟利农场这一边池塘的树林里，树木很茂密；在树林的边缘到池塘一侧的那一片芦苇之间，有一片只有二十步宽的狭长的湿草地带。雷斯垂德把发现尸首的准确地点指给我们看，那里地面十分潮湿，我可以清楚地看见死者倒下后留下的痕迹。而对福尔摩斯来说，我从他脸上的热切表情和锐利的目光可以看出，在这被众人脚步践踏过的草地上他将要侦查出许许多多其他的东西来。他跑了一圈，就象一只已嗅出气味来的狗一样，然后转向我的同伴。
　　 他问道：“你跑到池塘里去过，干什么来着？”
　　 “我用草耙在周围打捞了一下。我想也许有某种武器或其他踪迹。但是，我的天呀……”
　　 “噢，得啦！得啦！我没有时间听你扯这个！这里到处都是你向里拐的左脚的脚印。一只鼹鼠都能跟踪你的脚印，脚印就在芦苇那边消失了。唉，要是我在他们象一群水牛那样在这池塘里乱打滚以前就已经到了这里，那么事情会是多么简单啊。看门人领着那帮人就是从这里走过来的，尸体周围六到八英尺的地方都布满了他们的脚印。但是，这里有三对与这些脚印不连在一起的、同一双脚的脚印。"他掏出个放大镜，在他的防水油布上趴下来以便看得更清楚些，在全部时间里，与其说他是同我说话，还不如说他是在自言自语。"这些是年轻的麦卡锡的脚印。他来回走了两次，有一次他跑得很快，因为脚板的印迹很深，而脚后跟的印迹几乎看不清。这足以证明他讲的是实话。他看见他父亲倒在地上就赶快跑过来。那么，这里是他父亲来回踱步的脚印。那么，这是什么呢？这是儿子站着细听时枪托顶端着地的痕迹。那么，这个呢？哈，哈！这又是什么东西的印迹呢？脚尖的！脚尖的！而且是方头的，这不是一般普通的靴子！这是走过来的脚印，那是走过去的，然后又是再走过来的脚印……当然这是为了回来取大衣的脚印。那么，这一路脚印是从什么地方过来的呢？"他来回巡视，有时脚印找不到了，有时脚印又出现了，一直跟到树林的边缘；跟踪到一棵大山毛榉树——附近最大的一棵树——的树荫下。福尔摩斯继续往前跟踪，一直跟到那一边，然后再一次脸朝下趴在地上，并且发出了轻轻的得意的喊声。他在那里一直趴了好久，翻动树叶和枯枝，把在我看来象是泥土的东西放进一个信封里。他用放大镜不但检查地面，而且还检查他能检查到的树皮。在苔藓中间有一块锯齿状的石头，他也仔细检查了，还把它收藏了起来。然后他顺着一条小道穿过树林，一直走到公路那里，在那里任何踪迹都没有了。
　　 他说：“这是一个十分有趣的案件。"这时，他才恢复了常态。"我想右边这所灰色的房子一定是门房，我应当到那里去找莫兰说句话，也许写个便条给他。完了我们就可以坐马车回去吃中饭了。你们可以先步行到马车那里，我跟着马上就来。”
　　 我们大约走了十分钟便到马车那里，然后我们便乘马车回罗斯，福尔摩斯带着他在树林里捡来的那块石头。
　　 他取出这块石头对雷斯垂德说，“雷斯垂德，你也许对这个感兴趣。这就是杀人的凶器。”
　　 “我看不到有什么标志。”
　　 “是没有标志。”
　　 “那，你怎么知道呢？”
　　 “石头底下的草还活着。说明这块石头放在那里不过几天功夫。找不到这块石头是从哪里来的痕迹。这块石头的形状和死者的伤痕正好相符。此外没有任何其他武器的踪迹。”
　　 “那么凶手呢？”
　　 “那是一个高个子男子，他是左撇子，右腿瘸，穿一双后跟很高的狩猎靴子和一件灰色大衣，他抽印度雪茄，使用雪茄烟嘴，在他的口袋里带有一把削鹅毛笔的很钝的小刀。还有几种其他的迹象，但是，这些也许已足以帮助我们进行侦查。”
　　 雷斯垂德笑了。他说，“我看我仍然是个怀疑派。理论总是可以说得头头是道，但是和我们打交道的英国陪审团是讲求实际的。”
　　 福尔摩斯冷静地回答说，“我们自有办法。你按你的方法办，你按我的方法办好了。今天下午我将是很忙的，很可能乘晚班火车回伦敦。”
　　 “让你的案子悬而不决吗？”
　　 “不，案子已经结束了。”
　　 “可是，那个疑团呢？”
　　 “那个疑团已经解决了。”
　　 “那么罪犯是谁？”
　　 “我所描述的那个先生。”
　　 “可是，他是谁呢？”
　　 “要找出这个人来肯定是不难的。住在附近这一带的居民并不太多。”
　　 雷斯垂德耸了耸肩说：“我是个讲求实际的人。我可不能负责在这一带满处乱跑去寻找一个惯用左手的瘸腿先生。那样我会成为苏格兰场的笑柄的。”
　　 福尔摩斯平静地说：“好吧，我是给了你机会的。你的住处到了。再见，在我离开以前，我会写个便条给你的。”
　　 我们让雷斯垂德在他的住处下车后，便回到了我们住的旅馆，我们到达旅馆时，午饭已经给我们摆在桌上了。福尔摩斯默不作声，陷于沉思之中，脸上露出一种痛苦的表情，这是处境困惑的人的那种表情。
　　 在餐桌已经收拾完毕之后，他说：“华生，你听我说，你就坐在这把椅子上，听我唠叨几句。我还不能十分肯定怎么办好，我想听听你的宝贵意见。点根雪茄吧，让我阐述我的看法。”
　　 “请说吧。”
　　 “唔，在我们考虑这个案子的案情时，小麦卡锡所谈的情况中，有两点当时立即引起你我两人的注意，尽管我的想法对他有利，而你的想法对他不利。第一点是：据他的叙述，他的父亲在见到他之前就喊叫了"库伊"。第二点是：死者临死时说了'拉特'。死者当时喃喃地吐露了几个词，但是，据他儿子说，听到只有这个词。我们必须从这两点出发去研究案情，我们开始分析的时候不妨假定，这个小伙子所说的一切都是绝对真实的。”
　　 “那么这个'库伊'是什么意思呢？”
　　 “唔，显然这个词不可能是喊给他儿子听的。他当时只知道他的儿子是在布里斯托尔。他儿子当时听到'库伊'这个词完全是偶然的。死者当时喊'库伊'是为了引其他约见的那个人的注意。而'库伊'显然是澳大利亚人的一种叫法，并且只是在澳大利亚人之间用的。因此可以大胆地设想，麦卡锡想要在博斯科姆比池塘会晤的那个人是一个曾经到过澳大利亚的人。”
　　 “那么'拉特'这个词又是什么意思呢？”
　　 歇洛克·福尔摩斯从他口袋里掏出一张折叠的纸，把它在桌上摊开。他说：“这是一张维多利亚殖民地的地图。我昨天晚上打电报到布里斯托尔去把它要来的。"他把手放在地图的一个地方上说：“你念一下这是什么？”
　　 我照念道：“阿拉特。”
　　 他把手举起来说：“你再念。”
　　 “巴勒拉特。”
　　 “这就对了。这就是那个人喊叫的那个词，而他的儿子只听清这个词的最后两个音节。他当时是使劲想把谋杀他的凶手的名字说出来。巴勒拉特的某某人。”
　　 我赞叹道：“妙极了！”
　　 “那是很明显的。好啦，你看，我已经把研究的范围大大地缩小了。现在姑且承认那儿子的话是正确的，那么这个人有一件灰色大衣这件事就是完全可以肯定的第三点。对于一个有一件灰色大衣的来自巴勒拉特的澳大利亚人，我们原先只有一种模糊的概念，现在就明确了。”
　　 “那是当然。”
　　 “他是一个熟悉这个地区的人，因为要到这个池塘来必须经过这个农场或经过这个庄园，这个地方，陌生人几乎是进不来的。”
　　 “确实是这样。”
　　 “所以我们今天长途跋涉到这里来。我检查了场地，了解到了案情的细节，我已经把这个罪犯是个什么样的人告诉了低能的雷斯垂德。”
　　 “你是怎样了解到这些细节的？”
　　 “我的方法你是知道的。那就是靠从观察细小的事情当中了解到的。”
　　 “我知道你可以从他走路步子的大小约略地判明他的高度。他的靴子也是可以从他的脚印来判明。”
　　 “是的，那是一双很特别的靴子。”
　　 “但是他是个瘸子是怎么看出的呢？”
　　 “他的右脚印总是不象左脚印那么清楚。可见右脚使的劲比较小。为什么？因为他一瘸一拐地走路，他是个瘸子。”
　　 “那么，他是一个左撇子呢？”
　　 “你自己已注意到在审讯中法医对死者伤痕的记载。那一击是紧挨着他背后打的，而且是打在左则。你想想看，如果不是一个左撇子打的，怎么会打在左侧呢？当父子两人在谈话的时候，这个人一直站在树后面。他在那里还抽烟呢。我发现有雪茄灰，我对烟灰的特殊研究，所以能够断定他抽的是印度雪茄。我为此曾经花过相当大的精力，我还写过些专题文章论述一百四十种不同的烟斗丝、雪茄和香烟的灰，这你是知道的。发现了烟灰以后，我接着在周围寻找，就在苔藓里发现了他扔在那里的烟头。那是印度雪茄的烟头，这种雪茄和在鹿特丹卷制的雪茄差不多。”
　　 “那么，雪茄烟嘴呢？”
　　 “我看出烟头没有在他嘴里叼过。可见他是用烟嘴的。雪茄烟末端是用刀切开而不是用嘴咬开的，但切口很不整齐，因此我推断是用一把很钝的削鹅毛笔的小刀切的。”
　　 我说：“福尔摩斯，你已在这个人周围布下了天罗地网，他逃脱不了啦，你还拯救了一个清白无辜的人的性命，确实就象你把套在他脖子上的绞索斩断了一样。我看到了这一切都是朝这方向发展。可是那罪犯是……”
　　 “约翰·特纳先生来访。"旅馆侍者一面打开我们起居室的房门，把来客引进来，一面说道。
　　 进来的这个人看上去很陌生，相貌不凡。他步履缓慢，一瘸一拐，肩部下垂，显得老态龙钟，但是他那皱纹深陷、坚定严峻的脸和粗壮的四肢，使人感到他具有异常的体力和个性。他的弯曲的胡须、银灰的头发和很有特色的下垂的眉毛结合在一起赋予了他尊贵和权威的风度和仪表，但是他脸色灰白，嘴唇和鼻端呈深紫蓝色。我一眼就能看出，他患有不治之症。
　　 福尔摩斯彬彬有礼地说：“请坐在沙发上。你已收到我的便条了？”
　　 “是的，看门人把你的便条交给我了。你说，你想在这里和我见面以避免流言蜚语。”
　　 “我想如果我到你的庄园里去，人们是会纷纷议论的。”
　　 “你为什么想要见我呢？"他以起倦、绝望的眼光打量我的同伴，仿佛他的问题已得到回答似的。
　　 福尔摩斯说：“是的。"这是回答他的眼色，而不是回答他的话。"是这样的。我了解麦卡锡的一切。”
　　 这个老人把头低垂，两手掩面。他喊道：“上帝保佑我吧！但是，我是不会让这个年轻人受害的。我向你保证，如果巡回审判法庭宣判他有罪，我会出来说话的。”
　　 福尔摩斯严肃地说：“我很高兴听你这么说。”
　　 “要不是为了我亲爱的女儿着想，我早就说出来了。那会使她十分痛心的……当她听到我被捕的消息时，她是会很痛心的。”
　　 福尔摩斯说：“也许不至于要逮捕吧。”
　　 “你说什么？”
　　 “我不是官方侦探。我明白，是你女儿要求我到这里来的，我现在是替她办事。无论如何必须使小麦卡锡无罪开释。”
　　 老特纳说：“我是个濒临死亡的人了。我患糖尿病已有多年。我的医生说，我是否还能活一个月都是个问题。可是，我宁可死在自己家里也不愿死在监狱里。”
　　 福尔摩斯站起身来走到桌子旁边坐下，然后拿起笔，在他面前放着一沓纸。他说：“只要告诉我事实，我把事实摘录下来，然后你在上面签字，这位华生可作见证人。以后我可能出示你的自白书，但只是在为了拯救小麦卡锡的万不得已的时候。我答应你，除非绝对必要，否则我不会用它的。”
　　 那老人说：“这样也可以。我能不能活到巡回审判法庭开庭的时候还是个问题，所以这对我没有多大关系，我只是不想引起艾丽斯的震惊就是了。现在我一定向你直说，事情经过的时间很长，我讲出来倒用不了多长时间。
　　 “你不了解这个死者麦卡锡。他是个魔鬼的化身。我这是说实话。愿上帝保佑你可千万不要让他这样的人抓住你的把柄。这二十年来，他一直抓住我不放，他把我这一生都毁了。我首先告诉你我是怎样落到他手里的。
　　 “那是十九世纪六十年代初在开矿的地方。那时我是个年轻小伙子，很容易冲动，也不安分守己，什么都想干；我和坏人结成了一伙，饮酒作乐，在开矿方面失利，以后当了绿林强盗。我们一伙共有六个人，过着放荡不羁的生活，不时抢劫车站和拦截驶往矿场的马车。我当时化名为巴勒拉特的黑杰克，现在在那个殖民地，人们还记得我们这一伙叫巴勒拉特帮。
　　 “有一天，一个黄金运输队从巴勒拉特开往墨尔本，我们埋伏在路边袭击了它。那个运输队有六名护送的骑兵，我们也是六个人，可以说是势均力敌，不过我们一开枪就把四个骑兵打下马来。我们也有三个小伙子被击毙才把那笔钱财弄到手。我用手枪指着那马车夫的脑袋，他就是现在的这个麦卡锡。我向上帝祷告，如果我当时开枪打死了他，那就谢天谢地了，但是，我饶了他一条命，虽然我当时看到他那双眯缝着的鬼眼睛一直盯着看我，好象要把我脸部的所有特征都牢牢记住似的。我们安然地把那笔黄金弄到了手，成了大富翁，并来到了英国而没有受到怀疑。在英国，我和我的老伙计们分道扬镳，各走各的路，我下决心从此过安分守己的正当生活。我买了当时正好在标价出售的这份产业，亲自用我的钱做点好事，这样来弥补一下我在大发横财时的所作所为。我还结了婚，虽然我的妻子年纪轻轻的就逝世了，却给我留下了亲爱的小艾丽斯。甚至当她还是个婴儿的时候，她的小手就似乎比过去的任何东西都要更加有效地指引我走上正道。总之，我悔过自新，尽我自己的最大能力来弥补我过去的过失。本来一切都很顺利，但麦卡锡的魔掌一下把我抓住了。
　　 “我当时是到城里去办一件投资的事，我在摄政街遇见了他，他当时是衣不蔽体，还光着脚。
　　 “他拉着我的胳膊说：‘杰克，我们又见面了。我们将和你亲如一家人。我们只有父子两人，你把我们收留下吧。如果你不干……英国这里可是个杰出的奉公守法的国家，只要喊一声随时都可以叫到。'
　　 “唔，他们就这样来到了西部农村，以后我怎么也摆脱不了他们，从此以后，他就在我最好的土地上生活，租金全免。从此我不得安生，家无宁日，老是忘记不了过去，不管我走到什么地方，他那狡诈的狞笑的面孔总是跟随着我。艾丽斯长大以后情况更糟，因为他也很快就看出，我怕她知道我的过去，甚至比知道我的过去更怕得厉害。不管他想要什么，他都非要弄到手不可，而不管是什么，我都毫不迟疑地给他，土地、金钱、房子什么都给，直到最后他向我要一件我不能给人的东西为止。他要我的艾丽斯。
　　 “你看，他的儿子已经长大成人，我的女孩子也长大成人了，因为大家都知道我身体不好，让他的小子插手于整个财产，对他来说是很得计的。但是，这件事我坚决不干。我决不同意让他那该死的血统和我们家的血统混到一块去，并不是我不喜欢那个小伙子，而是因为他身上有他老子的血，这就够受的了。我坚决不答应。麦卡锡威胁我。我对他说，即使把他最毒辣的手段使出来我也不在乎。我们约定在我们两所房子之间那个池塘会面以便谈出个结果来。
　　 “当我走到那里的时候，我发现他正在和他儿子谈话，我只好抽支雪茄烟在一棵树后面等待，等到他单独一个人在那里时再过去。但是，当我听着他的谈话的时候，愤激的情绪简直达到了极点。他正在极力促使他儿子和我女儿结婚，根本不考虑她本人可能有什么意见，好象她是马路上的妓女似的。一想到我和我所心爱的一切竟然受这样一个人主宰，我简直气得发疯。我能不能冲破这个束缚呢？我已经是一个快要死去和绝望了的人。虽然我头脑还清醒，四肢还相当强壮，但我知道自己这一生已经完了。可是，我记忆中的往事和我的女儿啊！只要我能使这条的舌头保持沉默，那么，我记忆中的往事和我的女儿两者都得以保全。福尔摩斯先生，我是这样做了，要我再来一次我都做得出来。我是罪孽深重，为了赎罪而过一辈子活受罪的生活是应该的。但是把我的女孩也卷进束缚我的罗网之中，这个我可受不了。我把他打翻在地犹如打击一头十分凶恶的野兽一样，心中毫无不安的感觉。他的呼喊声使他儿子赶了回来；这时我已跑到树林里躲起来了，我倒是不得不再跑回去取我那件逃跑时丢下的大衣。先生，这就是所发生的全部真实情况。”
　　 那老人在写好了的那份自白书上签了字。福尔摩斯当即说：“好啦，我无权审判你。但愿我们永远不会受到这样一种而无法控制自己。”
　　 “先生，我也很愿如此。你打算怎么办呢？”
　　 “考虑到你的身体情况，不打算做什么。你自己也知道，你不久就要为你干过的事在比巡回审判法庭更高一级的法院受审讯。我一定能把你的自白书保存好。如果麦卡锡被定罪我就不得不用它。如果麦卡锡不被定罪，它就永远不会为任何人所见。不管你是活着还是死去，我保证为你保密。”
　　 那老人庄严地说：“那么，再见了。当你自己临终之际，想到曾经让我安然死去，你会感到更加安宁的。"这个身躯庞大的人摇摇晃晃地慢步从房间里走了出去。
　　 福尔摩斯沉默了很久，然后说：“上帝保佑我们！为什么命运老是对贫困穷苦而又孤立无援的芸芸众生那么恶作剧呢？我每当听到这一类的案件时，我都想起巴克斯特的话，并说，'歇洛克·福尔摩斯之所以能破案还是靠上帝保佑。'“
　　 詹姆斯·麦卡锡在巡回法庭上被宣告无罪释放，因为福尔摩斯写了若干有力的申诉意见，这些意见提供给了辩护律师。在和我们谈话以后，老特纳还活了七个月，现在已经去世了；很可能会出现这样的前景：那个儿子和那个女儿终于共同过着幸福的生活，他们根本不知道，在过去的岁月里，他们的上空曾经出现过不祥的乌云。

　　We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:
　　 "Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15."
　　 "What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Will you go?"
　　 "I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present."
　　 "Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes' cases."
　　 "I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour."
　　 My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.
　　 "It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets."
　　 We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack.
　　 "Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked.
　　 "Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days."
　　 "The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult."
　　 "That sounds a little paradoxical."
　　 "But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man."
　　 "It is a murder, then?"
　　 "Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words.
　　 "Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts.
　　 "On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came back alive.
　　 "From Hatherley Farm-house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred.
　　 "The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court."
　　 "I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here."
　　 "Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home."
　　 "I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case."
　　 "There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered, laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that."
　　 "How on earth--"
　　 "My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth considering."
　　 "What are they?"
　　 "It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury."
　　 "It was a confession," I ejaculated.
　　 "No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence."
　　 "Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most suspicious remark."
　　 "On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one."
　　 I shook my head. "Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked.
　　 "So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged."
　　 "What is the young man's own account of the matter?"
　　 "It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, and may read it for yourself."
　　 He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way:
　　 "Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows: 'I had been away from home for three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of "Cooee!" which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.'
　　 "The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died?
　　 "Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat.
　　 "The Coroner: What did you understand by that?
　　 "Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious.
　　 "The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel?
　　 "Witness: I should prefer not to answer.
　　 "The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it.
　　 "Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed.
　　 "The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise.
　　 "Witness: I must still refuse.
　　 "The Coroner: I understand that the cry of 'Cooee' was a common signal between you and your father?
　　 "Witness: It was.
　　 "The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol?
　　 "Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know.
　　 "A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured?
　　 "Witness: Nothing definite.
　　 "The Coroner: What do you mean?
　　 "Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was gone.
　　 "'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?'
　　 "'Yes, it was gone.'
　　 "'You cannot say what it was?'
　　 "'No, I had a feeling something was there.'
　　 "'How far from the body?'
　　 "'A dozen yards or so.'
　　 "'And how far from the edge of the wood?'
　　 "'About the same.'
　　 "'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?'
　　 "'Yes, but with my back towards it.'
　　 "This concluded the examination of the witness."
　　 "I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son."
　　 Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said he, "to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes."
　　 It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for us.
　　 "I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. "I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime."
　　 "It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It is entirely a question of barometric pressure."
　　 Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said.
　　 "How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night."
　　 Lestrade laughed indulgently. "You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," he said. "The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door."
　　 High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
　　 He was very much admired indeed. "He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
　　 "Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything."
　　 "I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy," muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
　　 "He looks just like an angel," said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
　　 "How do you know?" said the Mathematical Master, "you have never seen one."
　　 "Ah! but we have, in our dreams," answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
　　 One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
　　 "Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
　　 "It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows; "she has no money, and far too many relations"; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.
　　 After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind." And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. "I admit that she is domestic," he continued, "but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also."
　　 "Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
　　 "You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!" and he flew away.
　　 All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. "Where shall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made preparations."
　　 Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
　　 "I will put up there," he cried; "it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air." So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
　　 "I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curious thing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness."
　　 Then another drop fell.
　　 "What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said; "I must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
　　 But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw--Ah! what did he see?
　　 The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
　　 "Who are you?" he said.
　　 "I am the Happy Prince."
　　 "Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite drenched me."
　　 "When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans- Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep."
　　 "What! is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
　　 "Far away," continued the statue in a low musical voice, "far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion- flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of- honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."
　　 "I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus- flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves."
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad."
　　 "I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect."
　　 But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here," he said; "but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger."
　　 "Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
　　 So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
　　 He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful the stars are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of love!"
　　 "I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she answered; "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy."
　　 He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. "How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting better"; and he sank into a delicious slumber.
　　 Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold."
　　 "That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
　　 When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What a remarkable phenomenon," said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
　　 "To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" so he enjoyed himself very much.
　　 When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you any commissions for Egypt?" he cried; "I am just starting."
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
　　 "I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint."
　　 "I will wait with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"
　　 "Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
　　 "Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that"; and he began to weep.
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
　　 So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
　　 "I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play," and he looked quite happy.
　　 The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chest came up. "I am going to Egypt"! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
　　 "I am come to bid you good-bye," he cried.
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not stay with me one night longer?"
　　 "It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea."
　　 "In the square below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her."
　　 "I will stay with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then."
　　 "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command you."
　　 So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
　　 Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he said, "so I will stay with you always."
　　 "No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt."
　　 "I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.
　　 All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
　　 "Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
　　 So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. "How hungry we are!" they said. "You must not lie here," shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
　　 Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
　　 "I am covered with fine gold," said the Prince, "you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy."
　　 Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried.
　　 Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
　　 The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
　　 But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
　　 "I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you."
　　 "It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
　　 And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
　　 At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
　　 Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said.
　　 "How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.
　　 "The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer," said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter than a beggar!"
　　 "Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
　　 "And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
　　 So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at the University.
　　 Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a statue of myself."
　　 "Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
　　 "What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
　　 "Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
　　 "You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me."
　　 "She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."
　　 From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
　　 "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."
　　 "Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."
　　 "The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."
　　 "Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers--what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."
　　 "The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.
　　 "Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
　　 "Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
　　 "Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
　　 "He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.
　　 "For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
　　 But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
　　 Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
　　 In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.
　　 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
　　 But the Tree shook its head.
　　 "My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
　　 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.
　　 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
　　 But the Tree shook its head.
　　 "My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."
　　 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.
　　 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
　　 But the Tree shook its head.
　　 "My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."
　　 "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"
　　 "There is away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."
　　 "Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."
　　 "If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."
　　 "Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"
　　 So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
　　 The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.
　　 "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame- coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."
　　 The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.
　　 But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
　　 "Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."
　　 So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
　　 When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.
　　 "She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove--"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.
　　 And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
　　 She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river--pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.
　　 But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."
　　 So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.
　　 And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.
　　 And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."
　　 So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.
　　 And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
　　 But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
　　 Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
　　 "Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
　　 And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.
　　 "Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it.
　　 Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.
　　 The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.
　　 "You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."
　　 But the girl frowned.
　　 "I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."
　　 "Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.
　　 "Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.
　　 "What I a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics."
　　 So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.