|
金边夹鼻眼镜 The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez
有三本厚厚的手稿，记录着我们一四年的工作。要从这样丰富的材料里，选出一些最富于趣味、又最能说明我朋友的特殊才能的案例，对我说来是很困难的。我翻阅了这些手稿，在这里，我们可以看到令人憎恶的红水蛭事件以及银行家克罗斯倍的惨死；看到阿得尔顿惨案以及英国古墓内的奇异的葬品；还可以看到著名的史密斯—莫梯麦继承权案件。在这期间，福尔摩斯由于追踪并且逮捕了布洛瓦街的杀人犯贺芮特，曾得到法国总统的亲笔感谢信和法国的勋章。虽然这些都可以写成极好的故事，不过总的说来，我以为都比不上约克斯雷旧居的事件，这里有许多扣人心弦的情节，不仅有青年威洛比·史密斯的惨死，还有许多起伏跌宕的插曲。
那是在十一月底的一个狂风暴雨的深夜。福尔摩斯和我默默地坐在一起，他用一个高倍的放大镜辨认一张纸片上的残留字迹，我在专心阅读一篇新的外科学论文。外面狂风呼啸着横扫贝克街，雨点猛烈地敲打着窗户。说来也怪，住在市中心、方圆十英里以内全是人造建筑物的地方，却仍然感到大自然对于人类的无情威胁，而且我还意识到在大自然巨大的力量面前，整个伦敦并不比田间野外的无数小土丘更坚固。我走近窗户，向着那寂静无人的街道望去，只见远处出现一缕灯光，照到泥泞的小路和发光的马路上。一辆单骑出租马车，正从牛津街的尽头溅着泥水驶过来。
福尔摩斯放下放大镜，卷起那张纸片，说：“华生，幸好我们今晚没有出去。我刚才做了不少事。这都是些伤眼睛的工作。依我看来，这不过是十五世纪后半期的一所修道院的记事簿。喂！喂！这是什么声音？”
在呼呼的风声中，又传来嗒嗒的马蹄声，还有车轮碰到人行道的石边的声音。我看到那辆出租马车在我们门前停了下来。
看见一个人从马车里走出来，我喊道：“他要做什么？”
“怎么，他要找我们。可是我们还要准备大衣、围巾、套鞋等坏天气用的各样东西。等一下！出租马车走了！这下可好了！要是他想请我们出去，他一定会让马车留下等着。亲爱的华生，别人全早睡下了，你快下楼去开开门。”
客人刚走到门厅的灯下，我立刻认出来了——他是年轻的斯坦莱·霍普金——他是一位很有前途的侦探，福尔摩斯对他的工作很感兴趣。
福尔摩斯急切地问我：“他进来了吗？”
“亲爱的朋友，"福尔摩斯站在楼上开玩笑地对他说，"请上楼来。我希望在这样的夜晚你不会对我们怀有什么不良企图吧！”
这位侦探登上楼梯，灯光照到他的雨衣上，雨衣闪着光。我帮助他脱掉雨衣，福尔摩斯把壁炉的火捅得更旺。
福尔摩斯说：“亲爱的霍普金，靠近火一点，暖暖你的脚。请吸支雪茄。我们的大夫还要给你开个处方，这样狂风暴雨的夜晚，热开水加柠檬是一剂上等良药。你在这个时候到来，一定有什么重要的事吧？”
“福尔摩斯先生，一点也不错，你知道我今天下午忙得不可开交，你看了晚报上约克斯雷那件事吗？”
“对于十五世纪以后的事情，我今天全都没看。”
“报上只是一小段，而且全不符合事实，所以读不读没有关系。我倒是抓紧时间到现场去了一趟。约克斯雷是在肯特郡，离凯瑟姆七英里，距铁路线三英里。三点十五分我接到电话，五点钟时我就到了约克斯雷旧居，进行了现场调查，然后乘最后一列火车到了查林十字街，又雇了一辆出租马车就一直到你这儿来了。”
“我想你还没弄清楚这个案件吧？”
“是的，我搞不清事情的起因。我觉得事情现在还象我去调查前一样模糊，可是开始调查的时候，好象很简单不会出错。福尔摩斯先生，没有目的的行凶怎么可能呢？使我烦恼的是我找不到行凶的目的。有一个人死了——当然谁也不能否认这件事——可是，我看不出来有人要害他的理由。”
福尔摩斯点上雪茄，然后往椅背上一靠。
他说：“请你详细谈谈。”
斯坦莱·霍普金说：“我已经把事实完全弄清楚了。可是这些事实的意义我还不能理解。根据我的调查，事情是这样的：几年前，一位年长的考芮姆教授买了这栋乡村宅邸——约克斯雷旧居。教授因为有病，总是半天躺在床上；半天拄着手杖，在住宅周围一跛一跛地走走，或是坐在轮椅上，园丁推着他在园内转转。邻居很喜欢和他来往。他在那儿是位有名的学识渊博的人。他家里有一位年纪较大的管家马可太太，还有一位女佣人苏珊·塔尔顿。自从他到这儿以来，一直是这两个人服侍他，这两个女人似乎名声不错。这位教授正在写一本专著。大约一年前，他感到需要雇用一位秘书。他请过两位，全不合适。第三位威洛比·史密斯先生，是个刚从大学毕业的青年人，教授对他很满意。秘书的工作是上午记录教授的口述，晚上查阅资料以及与第二天工作有关的书籍。威洛比·史密斯无论是年幼的时候，还是在剑桥读书的时候，行为都很好，教授十分满意。我看了他的证明书，他一直是个品行端正、性情温和、并且工作很努力的人。正是这样的一个青年，今天上午在教授的书房里遭到谋害。”
狂风在吼叫，刮得窗户吱吱作响。我和福尔摩斯不约而同地向壁炉移近了一些。这位年轻的侦探继续不慌不忙地叙述着这个故事。
他说：“我想整个英格兰没有一家象教授这样地与外界隔绝的。一连几周，他家可以没有一个人走出园子的大门。教授只埋头于他的工作，对于其它一切都不闻不问。史密斯一个邻居也不认识，过着和他主人一样的生活。也没有什么事情需要那两位妇女走出这座庭园，推轮椅的园丁莫提迈尔从军队领取抚恤金，他参加过克里木战争，也是一个好人。他住在花园的一头，那儿有三间农舍。在约克斯雷旧居内只有这些人。而且，花园的大门与从凯瑟姆到伦敦的大路相距只有一百码远。门上有个门闩，谁都可以随便进来。
“现在我给你们讲苏珊·塔尔顿的证词，只有她还能说出一点当时的情况。事情发生在上午十一点到十二点之间。那时她正在楼上，在前面的卧室里挂窗帘。考芮姆教授还躺在床上，天岂不好的时候，他过了中午才起床。女管家在房后忙着干活儿。威洛比·史密斯在他的卧室里，他的卧室也是他的起居室。这时她听到威洛比走过过道，下楼走进书房，书房正好在她脚下。她没有看见他，但是她说根据威洛比的迅速、有力的脚步声她不会弄错。她没有听到关上书房门的声音，不一会儿从下面的屋子里就发出了可怕的叫声。叫声是嘶哑的、绝望的，也是很怪的、不自然的，所以分辨不出是男人还是女人的声音。同时，又传来重重的脚步声，震得这所旧房屋都摇晃了，然后一切又安静了。苏珊惊得发呆，过一会儿她才鼓起勇气走下楼去。她看见书房的门关上了，她打开门看见威洛比躺在地板上。起初她没看见伤口，但是当她想要抬其他的时候，才看见血顺着他的脖子直往下流。脖子上刺了一个不大但是很深的伤口，切断了颈动脉，刺杀用的工具是一把放在写字台上封文件用的小刀。刀把是象牙的，刀背很硬，小刀是教授书桌上的用具。
“起初女仆以为史密斯已经死了，她用冷水瓶往他的前额上倒水的时候，他睁开了一会儿眼睛，喃喃地说：'教授，是她。'苏珊保证这是威洛比说的原话。他还努力要想说什么，曾举其他的右手。随后他就放下手死了。
“这时女管家也已经到了现场，但是她晚了一步，没有听到威洛比临终的话。她把苏珊留下看着尸体，自己跑到楼上教授的卧室。教授正坐在床上，惶恐不安，因为从听到的声音，他知道发生了不幸的事。马可太太说得很肯定，教授还穿着睡衣，莫提迈尔通常是十二点钟来帮助教授穿衣服。教授说他听到了远处的叫声，其它的事他就不知道了。他也没法解释这个青年临终的话：'教授，是她。'不过他认为这是神智不清的胡话。教授认为威洛比并没有仇人，无法解释这件谋杀案的原因。他当时立即吩咐莫提迈尔去叫当地。又过了一会儿，当地警长把我找去。我到那儿之前，什么东西全没有移动，并且警长还严格地规定不许人们从小道上走近那所房子。福尔摩斯先生，这件案子是运用你的理论的好机会，条件已经具备齐全了。”
我的朋友带着微笑幽默地说：“条件齐全了吗？还缺少歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生呢。我们先听听你的意见，霍普金先生，你认为这件谋杀案是怎么一回事？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我先要请你看看这张略图，从图上可以粗略地看出教授的书房的位置以及有关处所的位置。这样你会很容易地了解我的侦查。”
他打开那张略图，放在福尔摩斯的膝盖上。我站起来，走到福尔摩斯身旁，从他的背后看着这张图。现在我把它誊写在下面。
“当然这张图很粗略，只画了我认为重要的几处。其他地方在我讲述的时候你可以想象出来。我们首先假设凶犯走进了书房，但他是怎样进来的呢？毫无疑问，他一定是经过花园的小道，从后门走进来的。因为这是一条捷径，直通书房，从别处走都要绕远。而且凶犯一定也是顺原路逃跑的，因为书房的另外两个出口，一个苏珊早就在她下楼的时候锁上了。另一个是直接通到教授的卧室。所以，我一开始就注意花园的小道，由于最近多雨，小道很潮湿，一定能看得出足迹。
“我在侦查中发现凶手很谨慎、老练，小道上看不出足迹。不过很明显，有人沿着小道两旁的草地边走过，因为那里的草被踩倒了。这个人准是凶杀犯，因为雨是在夜里开始下的，而园丁和别的人，当天早晨都没到那里去过。”
福尔摩斯说：“请停一下，这条小道通到什么地方？”
“通到大路。”
“小道有多长？”
“大约一百码左右。”
“在大门附近，一定可以找到痕迹吧？”
“遗憾的是大门旁的路是铺了砖的。”
“那么，大路上有痕迹吗？”
“大路全踩成了烂泥。”
“真遗憾！那么草上的足迹是进来的还是出去的呢？”
“那不太好说。因为足迹的方向很不明显。”
福尔摩斯露出了不耐烦的样子。
他说：“的确，雨一直下得很大，风刮得也很猛，分辨脚印可能比我看那张纸片还要困难。这是没办法的事。霍普金，当你知道已经毫无办法的时候，你打算怎么办呢？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我想我还是弄清了一些情况的。我敢肯定是有人从外面谨慎地走进了屋内，我还检查了过道。过道铺着椰子毛编的垫子，垫子上没有什么痕迹。我从过道走到书房。书房里的家具不多。主要的有一个写字台，下边有个固定着的柜子。柜子有两排抽屉，中间是个小柜，抽屉全开着，小柜锁着。抽屉大概经常是开着，里面没有贵重的东西。小柜里有些重要文件，但是不象是被翻弄过的。教授对我说没有丢失什么东西。看来确实也没有劫走什么东西。
“我走到这个青年的尸体旁边。尸体靠近柜子的左边，图上已经标明。刀子是刺在脖子的右边，从后向前扎过去的，所以不可能是自杀。”
福尔摩斯说：“除非他摔倒在刀子上。”
“是的，这个想法我也有过，可是刀子是在离尸体几英尺外的地方，因此，这是不可能的。当然，死者自己的话也可以做证。另外，还有一件最重要的证据，握在死者右手中。”
斯坦莱·霍普金从他的口袋里取出一个小纸包。他打开纸包，取出一副金边夹鼻眼镜，眼镜一端垂着一条断成两截的黑丝带。他说：“威洛比·史密斯的视力很好。这副眼镜一定是从凶手的脸上或是身上夺过来的。”
福尔摩斯接过眼镜，饶有兴味地赏玩起来。他把眼镜架在自己的鼻梁上，试着看东西，又走近窗户向外面巡视，然后便凑到灯光下，仔细地观察这副眼镜。最后，他哈哈地笑起来，坐在桌旁拿起一张纸，写了几行字，然后扔给对面的斯坦莱·霍普金。
他说：“我只能这样帮助你，也许有些用处。”
霍普金大声地读道：
"寻找一位穿着体面、打扮得象贵族似的妇女。她的鼻子很宽，眼睛紧挨鼻子，前额上有皱纹，面容呆滞刻板，也许她还有点削肩。有些迹象表明，最近几个月里她至少两次去过同一家眼镜店。她的眼镜度数很深。这座城市眼镜店不多，找到她是不难的。”
霍普金露出非常惊异的神色，此时我的面部表情一定也是同样的，而福尔摩斯只微笑了一下，又接着说：“得出以上的结论是很容易的。什么东西也不如眼镜能够这样有力地说明问题，何况这又是一副特别的眼镜呢。考虑到眼镜的精致以及死者的遗言，不难推论出眼镜是属于一位妇女的。至于说她是一个文雅的穿着体面的人，那是因为我认为一个带金边眼镜的人在服饰方面是不会邋遢的。你注意到了吗，这副眼镜的夹子很宽，这说明这位女士的鼻子底部很宽。这样的鼻子一般都是短而粗的，不过也有很多例外，所以这一点我不敢过于武断。我的脸型是狭长的，可是我的眼睛还对不上镜片的中心，可见这位妇女的眼睛长得十分靠近鼻子。华生，你看得出镜片是凹陷的，度数很深。一个人平时总要眯着眼睛看东西，这必然会在生理上产生一定影响，使前额、眼睑以及肩膀具有某些特点。”
我说：“是的，我能理解你的推论。但是，我必须承认，我不能理解你怎样得出她两次去眼镜店的说法。”
福尔摩斯把眼镜摘下拿在手中。
他说：“你们可以看见，眼镜的夹子衬着软木，以防压痛鼻子。这里，一块软木褪了色，而且有点磨损，可是另一块是新的。显然这边有一块软木掉过，并且换了新的。而这块旧的软木，我认为装上不过几个月。两块软木完全相同，所以我推测她去过同一家眼镜店两次。”
霍普金羡慕地说：“天啊！妙极了，所有的证据全在我的手中，可是我却无能为力，不过我倒是想过要去伦敦各家眼镜店的。”
“当然，你是应该去的。你还有什么要告诉我的吗？”
“没有了，我知道的并不比你多，也许你知道的要更多些，凡是在那条大路上，或是火车站上出现的陌生人，我们全都盘查过。我们没有得到什么情况。令人伤脑筋的是这件谋杀案的目的。谁也说不清到底是为了什么。”
“啊！这我可没办法帮助你了。你是不是要我们明天去看看呢？”
“福尔摩斯先生，如果你能去的话，那太好了。早晨六点钟有火车从查林十字街开到凯瑟姆，点钟就可以到约克斯雷旧居。”
“那么我们就坐这趟火车。这个案件有些方面确实使人很感兴趣，我愿意调查一下。快一点了，我们最好睡几个小时。你在壁炉前面的沙发上睡，一定很舒服。明天动身以前，我点上酒精灯给你煮一杯咖啡。”
第二天早晨，风已经停了。我们动身上路时，天气依然很冷。严冬的太阳无精打采地照在泰晤士河以及两岸的沼泽地上。经过一段令人厌倦的路程，我们在离凯瑟姆几英里远的车站下了火车。在等候马车时，急急忙忙吃了早饭，所以一到约克斯雷旧居，我们便立即开始工作。一位在花园的大门口等候我们。
“威尔逊，有什么消息吗？”
“先生，没有。”
“有没有人报告看见了生人？”
“没有。昨天火车站那儿既没有生人来，也没有生人从那儿走。”
“你问过旅店和其它一些可以住宿的地方了吗？”
“问过了，先生。找不到一个和谋杀有关的人。”
“从这儿走到凯瑟姆不算远。有人待在凯瑟姆或是去上火车是不会不被注意的。福尔摩斯先生，这就是我说的那条小道。我保证昨天小道上没有足迹。”
“草地上的足迹是在小道的哪一边呢？”
“先生，这一边。在小道和花坛之间的很窄的边缘上。现在看不见了，可是我昨天看得还很清楚。”
福尔摩斯弯腰看着草地，说：“是的，有人经过这儿。这位妇女走路一定很小心，不然的话，她会在小道上留下痕迹的，如果在小道的另一边走，就会在湿软的地上留下更清楚的痕迹。”
“是的，先生，她一定是一个头脑很冷静的人。”
福尔摩斯聚精会神地思考着。
“你说她一定是从这条路走出去的？”
“是的，先生，没有别的路。”
“从这一段草地上吗？”
“肯定是这样，福尔摩斯先生。”
“哼，这件谋杀案干得很出色——很出色，小道已经到头儿了吗？我们再往前走。我想花园的这扇小门通常是开着的吧，唔，那么这位客人一定是从这儿走进屋的。那时她还没有想到杀人，不然的话她会带着武器，而不必去拿写字台上的刀子。她走过过道，在椰子毛的垫子上没有留下痕迹，然后她走进了书房。她在书房呆了多久？我们没法判断。”
“先生，不过几分钟。我忘记告诉你了，女管家马可太太在出事不久以前，还在书房里打扫，她说大约在出事一刻钟以前。”
“这告诉我们一个时限。这位夫人进到屋内，做了些什么呢？她走到写字台旁边。为什么要走近写字台？不会是为了抽屉里的东西。要是有值得她拿的东西，一定也已经锁起来了。她是要拿小柜里的东西，咦！小柜上象有什么东西划过，这痕迹是怎么回事？华生，点根火柴。霍普金，你为什么没有告诉我这划痕呢？”
福尔摩斯检查了这道划痕，它是从钥匙孔右边的铜片上开始的，大约有四英寸长，小柜表面上的皮被划掉了。
“福尔摩斯先生，我看见了，不过钥匙孔周围总是有划痕的。”
“这个划痕是新的，很新。你看，铜片上划过的地方有多亮啊！旧的划痕颜色和铜片表面颜色是一样的。你用我的放大镜看一下这里的油漆，这条痕迹两边的油漆象犁沟两旁翻起的土一样。马可太太在吗？”
一位年纪较大面带愁容的妇女走进屋里。
“你昨天上午擦过这个柜子吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“你看到这条痕迹了吗？”
“先生，我没有。”
“肯定你没有，不然抹布会把油漆的粉屑擦掉的。谁拿着这个柜子的钥匙？”
“钥匙挂在教授的表链上。”
“是一把普通的钥匙吗？”
“是一把车布牌的钥匙。”
“好，马可太太，你可以走了。现在我们有一点进展了。这位夫人走进屋子里，来到柜子前，不是已经打开了它，便是要设法打开。正在这个时候，威洛比·史密斯来到屋里。她匆匆忙忙抽出钥匙，不小心在柜门上划了一道痕迹。威洛比捉住了她，她抄起一件近在手边的东西，正好是那把刀子，向威洛比扎去，好让威洛比放开她。这一扎使威洛比受了致命伤。威洛比倒下了，她逃跑了，也许带着她要拿的东西，也许没有带着。女仆苏珊在这儿吗？苏珊，你听见喊叫的声音以后，她能从那扇门走掉吗？”
“不能，先生，那是完全不可能的。要是有人在过道里，我不必到楼下来就可以看见。这扇门没有开过，不然的话，我会听到声音的。”
“这边的出口没问题了。那么这位夫人一定是从她来的路逃出去的。我知道这面的过道通到教授的卧室。那这里没有出口吧？”
“没有，先生。”
“走，我们一起去看一看教授。喂，霍普金，这点很重要，确实很重要：通向教授卧室的过道也铺着椰子毛垫子。”
“可是这与案情有什么关系呢？”
“你看不出来吗？我并不坚持一定有关系，可是我觉得会有帮助。我们一起去，你把我介绍一下。”
我们走过这个过道，它和通向花园的那个过道同样长。过道的尽头有一段楼梯，楼梯尽头是一扇门。霍普金敲了门，然后就把我们带进教授的卧室。
这间房很大，屋里堆满了书籍，书架上，书柜下，到处都是书，一张单人床放在屋子正中央。这栋房子的主人，正靠着枕头，躺在床上。我从来没有看见过外貌这样奇特的人。教授面庞瘦削，长着鹰钩鼻子，他转过脸，我们看到一对敏锐的深蓝色眼睛，深陷在眼眶中，成簇的眉毛低垂着，他的头发和胡须全白了，只有嘴巴周围的口髭还有些发黄。在蓬乱的白胡须中一支烟卷发出亮光。屋子里充满了难闻的陈旧的烟草味。他向福尔摩斯伸出手的时候，我看见他手上沾满了黄色的尼古丁。
他说话很注意用词，并且声调十分缓慢。
“福尔摩斯先生，您抽烟吗？请您抽一支吧。这位先生，您也抽一支吧，我愿意让您尝尝这烟，因为这是亚历山大港①的埃俄尼弟斯为我特制的。他每次寄来一千支，每两周我必须让他寄来一次。这不好，很不好，可是有什么办法呢，一个老人又没有什么可供娱乐的。留给我的只有烟草和工作。”
福尔摩斯点燃一支烟卷，一边用眼睛满屋子瞟来瞟去地看着。
老人感慨地说：“烟卷和工作，可是现在只有烟卷了。唉！发生这件事实在是不幸，连我也无心工作了！这真是祸从天降呵！多么难得的一个好青年呵！我敢担保，再经过几个月训练，他会成为一个很好的助手。福尔摩斯先生，您怎么看这件事呢？”
“我还没有想好。”
“如果您能帮助我们弄清这件没有头绪的案子，我会非常感激您的。象我这样的书呆子和残废人，受到这种打击，简直是当头一棒，我连思考的能力都没有了。好在您来了，而且又那样精明强干，您的天赋和职业那样紧密地结合在一起，使得您在任何紧急情况下，都能够处之泰然，有您帮助我们，实在是万分荣幸。”
福尔摩斯在屋子里走来走去，而老教授还在不停地讲着。我注意到福尔摩斯烟吸得很快。看来，他也象这屋子的主人一样，很喜欢这种新寄来的亚历山大烟卷。
老人说：“是的，先生，这是一次毁灭性的打击。小桌子上的那一叠稿件是我的著作。我对天气教派的理论基础作了①埃及的一个海港。——译者注深入的研究，并且分析了在叙利亚和埃及的科普特寺院中发现的文献。因此，这部著作是很有价值的。但是，由于我的身体日益衰弱，又失去了助手，我真不知道还能否继续完成此部著作。呀！福尔摩斯先生，你吸烟比我还快！”
福尔摩斯笑了。
他从烟盒中又取出一支，这已经是第四支了，用剩下的烟头点着，然后说道：“我是一个鉴赏家。我不想长时间地盘问你，给你找许多麻烦。考芮姆教授，我知道出事的时候，你在床上，所以什么也不知道。我只想问一个问题，可怜的威洛比最后说：'教授，是她'，你认为他的意思是什么？”
教授摇了摇头。
他说：“苏珊是个农村的女孩子。你知道这种人是愚蠢得令人难以置信的。我想这个青年人只是咕哝了一些不连贯的谵语，而苏珊却错误地把它理解成了意思不明的话。”
“那么，您自己对于这件事怎样解释呢？”
“可能是个偶然事件，也可能是自杀，不过我只在我们自己人里这样说说，青年们都有些隐藏在内心的烦恼，如象爱情这类的事，这是我们无法知道的。或许这比谋杀的可能性更大一些。”
“可是怎样解释那副眼镜呢？”
“我不过是一个读书人，一个好空想的人。我不善于解释生活中的实际事物。但是，我的朋友，我们知道爱情的晴雨表是有其特殊的表现形式的。请务必再吸一支烟。我很高兴您能这样赏光。当一个人要结束自己生命的时候，可以把一把扇子、一双手套、一副眼镜等等任何东西当作珍品拿在手中。这位先生谈到草地上的脚印，这种推测是很容易弄错的。至于刀子，很可能是这个青年摔倒的时候丢出去的。可能我说得不对，总之，我认为威洛比是自杀身死的。”
这种解释似乎使福尔摩斯感到惊异，不过他继续踱来踱去，专心思索，一支又一支地吸着烟。
过了一会儿，他说：“考芮姆教授，请告诉我写字台的小柜里装着什么？”
“没有什么使小偷感兴趣的东西。家里人的证件，我不幸的妻子的来信，我在一些大学的学位证书，这是钥匙。你自己可以去看看。”
福尔摩斯接过钥匙，看了一会儿，然后又把它还给教授。
他说：“我想钥匙对我没什么用处。我倒更愿意悄悄地到你的花园里，把情况好好思考一下。你提出的自杀的说法，还是应该考虑的。考芮姆教授，很抱歉，我们突然来打扰你。午饭以前我们不再来打搅你了。两点钟的时候，我们再来，向你报告有关情况。”
说来也怪，福尔摩斯好象有些心不在焉。我们在花园的小道上，默默地来回走了许久。
我后来问：“你有线索了吗？”
他说：“这完全取决于我所吸的这些烟卷。也有可能我完全错了，不过，烟卷会告诉我的。”
我惊讶地说：“亲爱的福尔摩斯，你怎么——”
“你会明白的。如果不是这样，并没有害处。当然，我们还可以再去找眼镜店这个线索。可是如果眼镜店这个线索不对头，我就找到了解决问题的捷径，啊！马可太太来了！我们和她好好谈五分钟，这对于破案会有启发的。”
我早就应当指出，如果福尔摩斯愿意的话，他是很会讨好女人的，并且他还能很快就取得她们的信任。没有用五分钟，他便得到了这位女管家的信任，并且和她谈得很投机，象是多年的老朋友一样。
“是的，福尔摩斯先生，正象你说的那样，一定是有什么不好的事情，使他不断地抽烟。有的时候简直是整天整夜地吸烟。有一天早晨我到他那儿去，屋子里满是烟气，就象伦敦的雾那样浓。可怜的史密斯先生也吸烟，但是不象教授吸得那样厉害。对于教授的健康，哼，我不知道吸烟是有好处还是有害处。”
福尔摩斯说：“啊，可是吸烟妨害食欲。”
“先生，这我不懂。”
“我想，教授吃东西一定很少。”
“我应该说，他的食量时大时小。”
“我敢打赌，他今天早晨一定没有吃早饭。我看见他抽了这么多支烟，大概午饭也吃不下了。”
“先生，你输了，事情和你想的完全不一样，他今天早晨吃得很多。我从来没有看见过他吃这么多，而且午饭他又要了一大盘肉排。真叫我吃惊。可是我呢，自从昨天早晨我看见史密斯先生倒在屋里地板上起，我对吃的东西就连看都不想看了。是的，世界上有各式各样的人，教授可没因为这件事吃不下饭。”
整整一个上午，我们在花园里消磨过去了。斯坦莱·霍普金到村子里去调查一些传言，据说前天清早有几个孩子，在凯瑟姆大路上，看见了一个奇怪的女人。至于我的朋友呢，听到这个消息，他就变得象一个有气无力的人，我从来没有看见过他这样心不在焉地处理案子。甚至连霍普金带回来的消息，也没能引其他的兴趣。霍普金说：“有的孩子确实看见过一个相貌完全象福尔摩斯所说的那样的妇女，她带着一副眼镜，也许是夹鼻眼镜。"吃饭的时候，苏珊一边服侍我们，一边也积极地讲了一些情况。他的话倒引起了福尔摩斯的极大兴趣。苏珊说：“昨天清晨史密斯先生出去散步，回来只有半小时，便发生了这件惨案。"我实在不能理解散步这件事对整个案情有什么影响。可是我清楚地看出福尔摩斯把这件事纳入他对整个案件的解释里了。突然福尔摩斯站了起来，看了一下表。他说：“两点了，先生们，我们该上楼去了，和我们这位教授把事情谈个明白。”
这位老人刚刚吃过午饭，桌上的空盘子说明他的食欲很好，女管家说得很对。当他转过头来，闪烁的目光投向我们时，我感到他确实是个神秘的人物。他已经穿好衣服，坐在火旁的一个扶手椅上。嘴上仍然抽着烟。
“福尔摩斯先生，你搞清这个离奇的案子了吗？"他把桌子上靠近自己的一大铁盒烟卷，推向福尔摩斯一边。于是福尔摩斯伸出手去，不料他们二人把烟盒打翻了，烟卷滚了满地。我们只好跪下来，到处拣散落的烟卷，足足用了一两分钟。当我们站起来的时候，我看到福尔摩斯眼睛里闪烁着光芒，他的两颊显得特别红润。在他脸上一现即逝的这种临战的表情，我只在最危急的情况下，看到过一次。
他说：“是的，我已经弄清楚了。”
霍普金和我目瞪口呆。老教授憔悴的面孔不停地颤动着，同时露出讥讽的嘲笑。
“真的！在花园里？”
“不，在这里。”
“这里！什么时候？”
“就是现在。”
“福尔摩斯先生，你一定是在开玩笑。我不得不提醒你，这是件极其严肃的事情，不能这样随随便便。”
“考芮姆教授，我的结论的每个论点，都是经过调查核实的，所以我敢肯定它是对的。至于你的动机是什么，以及在这个奇怪的案件中，你扮演了什么角色，我还不能确定。过几分钟你或许会亲口对我讲。为了给你个方便，还是由我来把这两天发生的事叙述一下，这样你也可以明白我还要查问什么。
“有一位妇女昨天走进你的书房，她来的目的是要拿走你写字台柜子里的文件。她身上带有一把钥匙，至于你的钥匙，我已经检查过，你的钥匙上没有那个划痕能够造成的轻微退色。我从有关证据得知，你并不知道她来抢文件，所以，你不是从犯。”
教授吐出一口浓烟，说：“这倒很有趣而且对我颇有启发。那么这位女士的情况，你已经弄清了不少，当然你也能说出她以后的行动喽？”
“不错，先生，我是要说的。起初你的秘书抓住了她，为了脱身，她就抓起小刀向这位秘书刺去。不过，我倾向于把这个案件看成是不幸的偶然事件，因为我认为这位女士并不想刺死秘书；如果是预谋杀人，她必定自己带着武器。结果，她做的事使她非常害怕，她不顾一切地要赶快逃走，不料在和威洛比厮打的时候，她丢了眼镜。她很近视，不戴眼镜什么也看不清。她沿着一个过道跑，以为就是来的时候走的过道，凑巧的是两边过道全铺着椰子毛织的垫子。当她知道走错了的时候，已经太晚了，退路已被切断。怎么办呢？她不能退回去，又不能站在那儿不动，她只好继续向前走。她上了楼梯，推开房门，便来到你的房中。”
老教授坐在那儿，张着嘴，目不转睛地看着福尔摩斯，脸上露出极度的惊讶和恐惧。他故作镇静地耸耸肩，发出一阵假笑。
他说：“福尔摩斯先生，你的推论很不错，可是有一个小漏洞。你知道，我一直在屋里，一整天都没有离开过。”
“考芮姆教授，我知道这一点。”
“那就是说我躺在床上，没有注意到有位妇女来到我屋里？”
“我并没有这样说。你注意到有人来。你和她讲话，你认识她，并且你协助她逃脱。”
教授又高声笑了起来。他猛地立起身，眼睛里飘着最后一线希望。
他大声喊道：“你发疯了！你在说胡话！我帮助她逃脱？她现在在哪儿？”
福尔摩斯指着放在屋子一角的一个高高的书柜，冷静地说：“她在那里。”
刹时，老人惊呆了。他举起颤抖的双手，接着整个躯体却又颓然落倒在椅子上。这时，屋角上的书柜门自动打开了，一位妇女急冲冲地走出来，站在屋子中间。她用很怪的异国语调说：“你对了！你对了！我是在这儿。”
她满身满脸都是一道道的尘土，衣服上还挂着从墙上蹭来的蜘蛛网。她长得并不漂亮，她的体型和脸型正是象福尔摩斯所推测的那样，此外，她的下巴也比较长，显得很顽强。她的视力本来就很差，同时又是刚从暗处到明处，因此她站在那儿眨着两眼，努力要看出我们的位置和身分。尽管她并不漂亮，但是举止端庄，神态从容，表现出一种顽强和豪迈的精神，使在场的人无不为之敬慕。
斯坦莱·霍普金抓住她的手臂，就要给她戴上手铐。她神色庄严地把霍普金轻轻推开。老教授仰靠在扶手椅上，微微颤抖着，目光阴郁地看着她。
她说：“先生，我是被捕了。我站在柜子里可以听到一切，所以我知道你们已经弄清了事实。我愿意交待全部事实，是我杀死了那个青年。你说那是意外事件，这是对的。我不知道我手中拿的是刀子，因为我从桌子上抓起一件东西，便绝望地向那个青年刺去，好让他放开我。我说的是真实情况。”
福尔摩斯说：“夫人，我相信你说的是事实。我看你身体很不好。”
她的脸色很难看，加上一道道的尘土简直显得可怕。她坐到床边上，继续说：
“我剩下的时间不多了，可是我仍然要把全部事实告诉你们。我是这个人的妻子。他不是英国人，他是个人，我不想说出他的名字。”
这个老人显得心情激动，他喊道：“安娜，上帝保佑你，上帝保佑你！”
她非常藐视地向着老人看了一眼，说：“塞尔吉斯，你为什么一定要过这种痛苦的生活呢？你一生毁掉了许多人，甚至对于你自己也没有好处。可是是否在上帝召唤你之前，便结束你的生命，这要由你自己决定。但是，我一定要说，不然的话，我便没有时间了。
“先生们，我说过我是这个人的妻子。我们结婚的时候，他已经五十岁，而我只是一个二十岁的傻姑娘。我在的一个城市上大学，我不想说出这个地名。”
老人又咕哝地说：“安娜，上帝保佑你。”
“你知道，我们是革新家、者、无政府主义者。我们人数很多。后来遇到困难，由于一个警长被害，我们有许多人被捕了。而他为了得到一大笔钱，更为了活命，便提供证据，背叛了他的妻子和伙伴。由于他的交待，我们全都被捕了。有的被送上绞刑架，有的被流放到西伯利亚。我被送到西伯利亚，但不是终生流放。我丈夫带着那笔不义之财来到英国，过上了安宁的生活。他知道得很清楚，如果我们的团体知道了他在哪儿，不到一个星期就会结束他的生命。"老人哆哆嗦嗦地伸出手又拿起一支烟卷。他说：“安娜，你随便处置我吧，你一向对我很好。”
她说：“我还没有把他的最大罪恶告诉你们。在我们的团体里，有位同志是我现在的朋友，他高尚、大公无私、乐于助人，这些气质我丈夫全没有。他仇视暴力，如果说使用暴力是犯罪的话，我们全都犯过罪，只有他没有。他总是写信给我们，劝我们不要使用暴力。这些信件是可以使他免受刑罚的。我的日记也可以证明，因为我在日记中记述了我对他的感情以及我们每个人的看法。可是我丈夫发现了这些信件和我的日记，就偷偷把它们藏了起来，一面还尽力证明这位年轻人应判死刑。虽然他没有达到目的，但是阿列克谢被当做罪犯送到西伯利亚，在一个盐矿做工。你这个恶棍，你想想，你好好想想，那样高尚的一个人却受着奴隶般的待遇，而你，你的生命就在我手中，可我还是放过了你。”
老人一面吐着烟，一面说：“安娜，你是一个高尚的女人。”
她慢慢站了起来，但是紧接着她发出了一声痛苦的喊叫，便又坐了下去。
她说：“我一定要说完。在我服刑期满以后，我就开始设法寻找这些信件和日记，因为如果政府得到这些东西，便会释放我的朋友。我知道我的丈夫来到了英国。经过几个月的查访，我终于弄清了他的住址。我知道他仍然保存着这些日记，因为当我还在西伯利亚时，他有一次给我写信，信中责备我时引用的是我日记中的话。我清楚地知道，由于他生性报复心强，他一定不会自愿地把日记交还给我。我必须想办法亲自弄到手。因此，我请了一位私人侦探，他到我丈夫家来做秘书——也就是你的第二个秘书，塞尔吉斯。他来不久便很快走了，他发现文件全收在小柜中，并且取了钥匙样。他不愿意做更多的事，便把这栋房的平面图交给了我，并且告诉我，秘书是在楼上住，上午书房里没有人。所以我后来才鼓起最大的勇气，亲自来拿这些东西，东西拿到了，可是，付出了什么样的代价啊！
“我刚刚拿到日记和信件，正要锁上柜子，这时一个青年抓住了我。那天清早我曾在路上遇见过他，我请他告诉我考芮姆教授的住处，可是不知道他是考芮姆雇用的人。”
福尔摩斯说：“是这样的！秘书回来以后告诉了考芮姆，说他遇见了一个什么样子的妇女。威洛比在断气之前想要说明：就是他和教授说过的那个女人杀了他。”
这位妇女面部抽搐，好象非常痛苦，并用命令的口吻说：
“你让我讲完。这个年轻人倒下去的时候，我闯出书房，走错了门来到我丈夫的房间。他说要告发我。我告诉他：他如果这样做，我不会放过他，他如果把我交给，我就把他的事告诉我们的团体。我不是为了自己想活命，而是想要达到我的目的。他知道我说到做到，而他自己的命运又和我的命运互相牵连，只是因为这个原故，他才掩护了我。他把我塞进那个黑暗的角落——只有他自己才知道这个秘密。他让佣人把饭送到屋里，以便分给我一些。我们商量好，只要一离开这栋房子，我就乘黑夜偷偷走掉，并且永远不再回来。但是你到底识破了我们的计划。这是我生前最后的话。"她从胸前拿出一个小包。她对福尔摩斯说：“这个小包裹可以救阿列克谢。先生，由于你的荣誉和正义，我把这包裹委托给你，请你把它转交给大使馆。我已尽了我的责任，并且……”
福尔摩斯突然喊道：“挡住她！"他一下子跳到屋子的另一边，从她手中夺下一只小药品。
她往床上倒了下去，说：“太晚了！太晚了！我出来……的时候，便吃了药。我头晕。我要死了！先生，我请求你……不要忘记……那个小……包裹。”
我们乘车回城时，福尔摩斯说：“这案件很简单，但是也很发人深思。从一开始问题便围绕着夹鼻眼镜。虽然那个青年在临死前幸运地抓到眼镜，但是我那时还不能肯定，我们是否能够解决问题。很清楚，从眼镜深度可以断定，戴眼镜的人近视程度很深，离开眼镜什么事也做不了。霍普金先生，当你让我相信她确实走过一小块草地，而不是故意作假时，你还记得吗，我当时说过，这种做法很不寻常，值得注意。可是实际上我心中认为这完全不可能，除非她还有一副眼镜。所以，我只能认真考虑另一个假设——她呆在这栋房子内。我一看见两个过道完全相似，就想到她很可能走错路，这样她就会走到教授的屋中。我密切地注意一切能够证实这个假设的事情，我仔细地检查这间屋子有没有可以躲藏的地方。地毯是整块的，并且钉得很牢固，所以地板上不会有活门。书柜后面可能有躲藏的地方。你知道，在老式的书房里常有这种结构。我注意到地板上各处都堆满了书，但是书柜却是空的，所以书柜可能是一扇门。我找不到别的证据来证实，但是地毯是暗褐色，所以我抽了很多支那种好烟，把烟灰洒在可疑的书柜前。这是一个很简单的办法，但是非常有效。然后我便下楼去了，并且，我已经弄清楚——华生，当时你也在场，而你却没有理解我谈话的目的——考芮姆教授的饭量增加了，这容易使人怀疑他还让另一个人吃饭。然后，我们又上楼去了，我弄翻烟卷盒，以便清楚地看看地毯。从地毯上的烟灰可以知道，在我们离开那里以后，她从躲藏的地方出来过。霍普金，我们已经到了查林十字街，我祝贺你胜利地结束了这个案件。你一定是去总部吧！我和华生要到使馆去，再见，我的朋友。”
The gale had blown itself out next day, but it was a bitter morning when we started upon our journey. We saw the cold winter sun rise over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career. After a long and weary journey we alighted at a small station some miles from Chatham. While a horse was being put into a trap at the local inn we snatched a hurried breakfast, and so we were all ready for business when we at last arrived at Yoxley Old Place. A constable met us at the garden gate.
"Well, Wilson, any news?"
"No, sir, nothing."
"No reports of any stranger seen?"
"No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no stranger either came or went yesterday."
"Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?"
"Yes, sir; there is no one that we cannot account for."
"Well, it's only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might stay there, or take a train without being observed. This is the garden path of which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I'll pledge my word there was no mark on it yesterday."
"On which side were the marks on the grass?"
"This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path and the flower-bed. I can't see the traces now, but they were clear to me then."
"Yes, yes; someone has passed along," said Holmes, stooping over the grass border. "Our lady must have picked her steps carefully, must she not, since on the one side she would leave a track on the path, and on the other an even clearer one on the soft bed?"
"Yes, sir, she must have been a cool hand."
I saw an intent look pass over Holmes's face.
"You say that she must have come back this way?"
"Yes, sir; there is no other."
"On this strip of grass?"
"Certainly, Mr. Holmes."
"Hum! It was a very remarkable performance -- very remarkable. Well, I think we have exhausted the path. Let us go farther. This garden door is usually kept open, I suppose? Then this visitor had nothing to do but to walk in. The idea of murder was not in her mind, or she would have provided herself with some sort of weapon, instead of having to pick this knife off the writing-table. She advanced along this corridor, leaving no traces upon the cocoanut matting. Then she found herself in this study. How long was she there? We have no means of judging."
"Not more than a few minutes, sir. I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Marker, the housekeeper, had been in there tidying not very long before -- about a quarter of an hour, she says."
"Well, that gives us a limit. Our lady enters this room and what does she do? She goes over to the writing-table. What for? Not for anything in the drawers. If there had been anything worth her taking it would surely have been locked up. No; it was for something in that wooden bureau. Halloa! what is that scratch upon the face of it? Just hold a match, Watson. Why did you not tell me of this, Hopkins?"
The mark which he was examining began upon the brass work on the right-hand side of the keyhole, and extended for about four inches, where it had scratched the varnish from the surface.
"I noticed it, Mr. Holmes. But you'll always find scratches round a keyhole."
"This is recent, quite recent. See how the brass shines where it is cut. An old scratch would be the same colour as the surface. Look at it through my lens. There's the varnish, too, like earth on each side of a furrow. Is Mrs. Marker there?"
A sad-faced, elderly woman came into the room.
"Did you dust this bureau yesterday morning?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you notice this scratch?"
"No, sir, I did not."
"I am sure you did not, for a duster would have swept away these shreds of varnish. Who has the key of this bureau?"
"The Professor keeps it on his watch-chain."
"Is it a simple key?"
"No, sir; it is a Chubb's key."
"Very good. Mrs. Marker, you can go. Now we are making a little progress. Our lady enters the room, advances to the bureau, and either opens it or tries to do so. While she is thus engaged young Willoughby Smith enters the room. In her hurry to withdraw the key she makes this scratch upon the door. He seizes her, and she, snatching up the nearest object, which happens to be this knife, strikes at him in order to make him let go his hold. The blow is a fatal one. He falls and she escapes, either with or without the object for which she has come. Is Susan the maid there? Could anyone have got away through that door after the time that you heard the cry, Susan?"
"No sir; it is impossible. Before I got down the stair I'd have seen anyone in the passage. Besides, the door never opened, for I would have heard it."
"That settles this exit. Then no doubt the lady went out the way she came. I understand that this other passage leads only to the Professor's room. There is no exit that way?"
"No, sir."
"We shall go down it and make the acquaintance of the Professor. Halloa, Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. The Professor's corridor is also lined with cocoanut matting."
"Well, sir, what of that?"
"Don't you see any bearing upon the case? Well, well, I don't insist upon it. No doubt I am wrong. And yet it seems to me to be suggestive. Come with me and introduce me."
We passed down the passage, which was of the same length as that which led to the garden. At the end was a short flight of steps ending in a door. Our guide knocked, and then ushered us into the Professor's bedroom.
It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, which had overflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, or were stacked all round at the base of the cases. The bed was in the centre of the room, and in it, propped up with pillows, was the owner of the house. I have seldom seen a more remarkable-looking person. It was a gaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us, with piercing dark eyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhung and tufted brows. His hair and beard were white, save that the latter was curiously stained with yellow around his mouth. A cigarette glowed amid the tangle of white hair, and the air of the room was fetid with stale tobacco-smoke. As he held out his hand to Holmes I perceived that it also was stained yellow with nicotine.
"A smoker, Mr. Holmes?" said he, speaking well-chosen English with a curious little mincing accent. "Pray take a cigarette. And you, sir? I can recommend them, for I have them especially prepared by Ionides of Alexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieve to say that I have to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad, sir, very bad, but an old man has few pleasures. Tobacco and my work -- that is all that is left to me."
Holmes had lit a cigarette, and was shooting little darting glances all over the room.
"Tobacco and my work, but now only tobacco," the old man exclaimed. "Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseen such a terrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure you that after a few months' training he was an admirable assistant. What do you think of the matter, Mr. Holmes?"
"I have not yet made up my mind."
"I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light where all is so dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myself such a blow is paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought. But you are a man of action -- you are a man of affairs. It is part of the everyday routine of your life. You can preserve your balance in every emergency. We are fortunate indeed in having you at our side."
Holmes was pacing up and down one side of the room whilst the old Professor was talking. I observed that he was smoking with extraordinary rapidity. It was evident that he shared our host's liking for the fresh Alexandrian cigarettes.
"Yes, sir, it is a crushing blow," said the old man. "That is my MAGNUM OPUS -- the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is my analysis of the documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt, a work which will cut deep at the very foundations of revealed religion. With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shall ever be able to complete it now that my assistant has been taken from me. Dear me, Mr. Holmes; why, you are even a quicker smoker than I am myself."
Holmes smiled.
"I am a connoisseur," said he, taking another cigarette from the box -- his fourth -- and lighting it from the stub of that which he had finished. "I will not trouble you with any lengthy cross-examination, Professor Coram, since I gather that you were in bed at the time of the crime and could know nothing about it. I would only ask this. What do you imagine that this poor fellow meant by his last words: `The Professor -- it was she'?"
The Professor shook his head.
"Susan is a country girl," said he, "and you know the incredible stupidity of that class. I fancy that the poor fellow murmured some incoherent delirious words, and that she twisted them into this meaningless message."
"I see. You have no explanation yourself of the tragedy?"
"Possibly an accident; possibly -- I only breathe it among ourselves -- a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles -- some affair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known. It is a more probable supposition than murder."
"But the eye-glasses?"
"Ah! I am only a student -- a man of dreams. I cannot explain the practical things of life. But still, we are aware, my friend, that love-gages may take strange shapes. By all means take another cigarette. It is a pleasure to see anyone appreciate them so. A fan, a glove, glasses -- who knows what article may be carried as a token or treasured when a man puts an end to his life? This gentleman speaks of footsteps in the grass; but, after all, it is easy to be mistaken on such a point. As to the knife, it might well be thrown far from the unfortunate man as he fell. It is possible that I speak as a child, but to me it seems that Willoughby Smith has met his fate by his own hand."
Holmes seemed struck by the theory thus put forward, and he continued to walk up and down for some time, lost in thought and consuming cigarette after cigarette.
"Tell me, Professor Coram," he said, at last, "what is in that cupboard in the bureau?"
"Nothing that would help a thief. Family papers, letters from my poor wife, diplomas of Universities which have done me honour. Here is the key. You can look for yourself."
Holmes picked up the key and looked at it for an instant; then he handed it back.
"No; I hardly think that it would help me," said he. "I should prefer to go quietly down to your garden and turn the whole matter over in my head. There is something to be said for the theory of suicide which you have put forward. We must apologize for having intruded upon you, Professor Coram, and I promise that we won't disturb you until after lunch. At two o'clock we will come again and report to you anything which may have happened in the interval."
Holmes was curiously distrait, and we walked up and down the garden path for some time in silence.
"Have you a clue?" I asked, at last.
"It depends upon those cigarettes that I smoked," said he. "It is possible that I am utterly mistaken. The cigarettes will show me."
"My dear Holmes," I exclaimed, "how on earth ----"
"Well, well, you may see for yourself. If not, there's no harm done. Of course, we always have the optician clue to fall back upon, but I take a short cut when I can get it. Ah, here is the good Mrs. Marker! Let us enjoy five minutes of instructive conversation with her."
I may have remarked before that Holmes had, when he liked, a peculiarly ingratiating way with women, and that he very readily established terms of confidence with them. In half the time which he had named he had captured the housekeeper's goodwill, and was chatting with her as if he had known her for years.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, it is as you say, sir. He does smoke something terrible. All day and sometimes all night, sir. I've seen that room of a morning -- well, sir, you'd have thought it was a London fog. Poor young Mr. Smith, he was a smoker also, but not as bad as the Professor. His health -- well, I don't know that it's better nor worse for the smoking."
"Ah!" said Holmes, "but it kills the appetite."
"Well, I don't know about that, sir."
"I suppose the Professor eats hardly anything?"
"Well, he is variable. I'll say that for him."
"I'll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won't face his lunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume."
"Well, you're out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkable big breakfast this morning. I don't know when I've known him make a better one, and he's ordered a good dish of cutlets for his lunch. I'm surprised myself, for since I came into that room yesterday and saw young Mr. Smith lying there on the floor I couldn't bear to look at food. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the Professor hasn't let it take his appetite away."
We loitered the morning away in the garden. Stanley Hopkins had gone down to the village to look into some rumours of a strange woman who had been seen by some children on the Chatham Road the previous morning. As to my friend, all his usual energy seemed to have deserted him. I had never known him handle a case in such a half-hearted fashion. Even the news brought back by Hopkins that he had found the children and that they had undoubtedly seen a woman exactly corresponding with Holmes's description, and wearing either spectacles or eye-glasses, failed to rouse any sign of keen interest. He was more attentive when Susan, who waited upon us at lunch, volunteered the information that she believed Mr. Smith had been out for a walk yesterday morning, and that he had only returned half an hour before the tragedy occurred. I could not myself see the bearing of this incident, but I clearly perceived that Holmes was weaving it into the general scheme which he had formed in his brain. Suddenly he sprang from his chair and glanced at his watch. "Two o'clock, gentlemen," said he. "We must go up and have it out with our friend the Professor."
The old man had just finished his lunch, and certainly his empty dish bore evidence to the good appetite with which his housekeeper had credited him. He was, indeed, a weird figure as he turned his white mane and his glowing eyes towards us. The eternal cigarette smouldered in his mouth. He had been dressed and was seated in an arm-chair by the fire.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you solved this mystery yet?" He shoved the large tin of cigarettes which stood on a table beside him towards my companion. Holmes stretched out his hand at the same moment, and between them they tipped the box over the edge. For a minute or two we were all on our knees retrieving stray cigarettes from impossible places. When we rose again I observed that Holmes's eyes were shining and his cheeks tinged with colour. Only at a crisis have I seen those battle-signals flying.
"Yes," said he, "I have solved it."
Stanley Hopkins and I stared in amazement. Something like a sneer quivered over the gaunt features of the old Professor.
"Indeed! In the garden?"
"No, here."
"Here! When?"
"This instant."
"You are surely joking, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You compel me to tell you that this is too serious a matter to be treated in such a fashion."
"I have forged and tested every link of my chain, Professor Coram, and I am sure that it is sound. What your motives are or what exact part you play in this strange business I am not yet able to say. In a few minutes I shall probably hear it from your own lips. Meanwhile I will reconstruct what is past for your benefit, so that you may know the information which I still require.
"A lady yesterday entered your study. She came with the intention of possessing herself of certain documents which were in your bureau. She had a key of her own. I have had an opportunity of examining yours, and I do not find that slight discolouration which the scratch made upon the varnish would have produced. You were not an accessory, therefore, and she came, so far as I can read the evidence, without your knowledge to rob you."
The Professor blew a cloud from his lips. "This is most interesting and instructive," said he. "Have you no more to add? Surely, having traced this lady so far, you can also say what has become of her."
"I will endeavour to do so. In the first place she was seized by your secretary, and stabbed him in order to escape. This catastrophe I am inclined to regard as an unhappy accident, for I am convinced that the lady had no intention of inflicting so grievous an injury. An assassin does not come unarmed. Horrified by what she had done she rushed wildly away from the scene of the tragedy. Unfortunately for her she had lost her glasses in the scuffle, and as she was extremely short-sighted she was really helpless without them. She ran down a corridor, which she imagined to be that by which she had come -- both were lined with cocoanut matting -- and it was only when it was too late that she understood that she had taken the wrong passage and that her retreat was cut off behind her. What was she to do? She could not go back. She could not remain where she was. She must go on. She went on. She mounted a stair, pushed open a door, and found herself in your room."
The old man sat with his mouth open staring wildly at Holmes. Amazement and fear were stamped upon his expressive features. Now, with an effort, he shrugged his shoulders and burst into insincere laughter.
"All very fine, Mr. Holmes," said he. "But there is one little flaw in your splendid theory. I was myself in my room, and I never left it during the day."
"I am aware of that, Professor Coram."
"And you mean to say that I could lie upon that bed and not be aware that a woman had entered my room?"
"I never said so. You WERE aware of it. You spoke with her. You recognised her. You aided her to escape."
Again the Professor burst into high-keyed laughter. He had risen to his feet and his eyes glowed like embers.
"You are mad!" he cried. "You are talking insanely. I helped her to escape? Where is she now?"
"She is there," said Holmes, and he pointed to a high bookcase in the corner of the room.
I saw the old man throw up his arms, a terrible convulsion passed over his grim face, and he fell back in his chair. At the same instant the bookcase at which Holmes pointed swung round upon a hinge, and a woman rushed out into the room. "You are right!" she cried, in a strange foreign voice. "You are right! I am here."
She was brown with the dust and draped with the cobwebs which had come from the walls of her hiding-place. Her face, too, was streaked with grime, and at the best she could never have been handsome, for she had the exact physical characteristics which Holmes had divined, with, in addition, a long and obstinate chin. What with her natural blindness, and what with the change from dark to light, she stood as one dazed, blinking about her to see where and who we were. And yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, there was a certain nobility in the woman's bearing, a gallantry in the defiant chin and in the upraised head, which compelled something of respect and admiration. Stanley Hopkins had laid his hand upon her arm and claimed her as his prisoner, but she waved him aside gently, and yet with an overmastering dignity which compelled obedience. The old man lay back in his chair, with a twitching face, and stared at her with brooding eyes.
"Yes, sir, I am your prisoner," she said. "From where I stood I could hear everything, and I know that you have learned the truth. I confess it all. It was I who killed the young man. But you are right, you who say it was an accident. I did not even know that it was a knife which I held in my hand, for in my despair I snatched anything from the table and struck at him to make him let me go. It is the truth that I tell."
"Madam," said Holmes, "I am sure that it is the truth. I fear that you are far from well."
She had turned a dreadful colour, the more ghastly under the dark dust-streaks upon her face. She seated herself on the side of the bed; then she resumed.
"I have only a little time here," she said, "but I would have you to know the whole truth. I am this man's wife. He is not an Englishman. He is a Russian. His name I will not tell."
For the first time the old man stirred. "God bless you, Anna!" he cried. "God bless you!"
She cast a look of the deepest disdain in his direction. "Why should you cling so hard to that wretched life of yours, Sergius?" said she. "It has done harm to many and good to none -- not even to yourself. However, it is not for me to cause the frail thread to be snapped before God's time. I have enough already upon my soul since I crossed the threshold of this cursed house. But I must speak or I shall be too late.
"I have said, gentlemen, that I am this man's wife. He was fifty and I a foolish girl of twenty when we married. It was in a city of Russia, a University -- I will not name the place."
"God bless you, Anna!" murmured the old man again.
"We were reformers -- revolutionists -- Nihilists, you understand. He and I and many more. Then there came a time of trouble, a police officer was killed, many were arrested, evidence was wanted, and in order to save his own life and to earn a great reward my husband betrayed his own wife and his companions. Yes, we were all arrested upon his confession. Some of us found our way to the gallows and some to Siberia. I was among these last, but my term was not for life. My husband came to England with his ill-gotten gains, and has lived in quiet ever since, knowing well that if the Brotherhood knew where he was not a week would pass before justice would be done."
The old man reached out a trembling hand and helped himself to a cigarette. "I am in your hands, Anna," said he. "You were always good to me."
"I have not yet told you the height of his villainy," said she. "Among our comrades of the Order there was one who was the friend of my heart. He was noble, unselfish, loving -- all that my husband was not. He hated violence. We were all guilty -- if that is guilt -- but he was not. He wrote for ever dissuading us from such a course. These letters would have saved him. So would my diary, in which from day to day I had entered both my feelings towards him and the view which each of us had taken. My husband found and kept both diary and letters. He hid them, and he tried hard to swear away the young man's life. In this he failed, but Alexis was sent a convict to Siberia, where now, at this moment, he works in a salt mine. Think of that, you villain, you villain; now, now, at this very moment, Alexis, a man whose name you are not worthy to speak, works and lives like a slave, and yet I have your life in my hands and I let you go."
"You were always a noble woman, Anna," said the old man, puffing at his cigarette.
She had risen, but she fell back again with a little cry of pain.
"I must finish," she said. "When my term was over I set myself to get the diary and letters which, if sent to the Russian Government, would procure my friend's release. I knew that my husband had come to England. After months of searching I discovered where he was. I knew that he still had the diary, for when I was in Siberia I had a letter from him once reproaching me and quoting some passages from its pages. Yet I was sure that with his revengeful nature he would never give it to me of his own free will. I must get it for myself. With this object I engaged an agent from a private detective firm, who entered my husband's house as secretary -- it was your second secretary, Sergius, the one who left you so hurriedly. He found that papers were kept in the cupboard, and he got an impression of the key. He would not go farther. He furnished me with a plan of the house, and he told me that in the forenoon the study was always empty, as the secretary was employed up here. So at last I took my courage in both hands and I came down to get the papers for myself. I succeeded, but at what a cost!
"I had just taken the papers and was locking the cupboard when the young man seized me. I had seen him already that morning. He had met me in the road and I had asked him to tell me where Professor Coram lived, not knowing that he was in his employ."
"Exactly! exactly!" said Holmes. "The secretary came back and told his employer of the woman he had met. Then in his last breath he tried to send a message that it was she -- the she whom he had just discussed with him."
"You must let me speak," said the woman, in an imperative voice, and her face contracted as if in pain. "When he had fallen I rushed from the room, chose the wrong door, and found myself in my husband's room. He spoke of giving me up. I showed him that if he did so his life was in my hands. If he gave me to the law I could give him to the Brotherhood. It was not that I wished to live for my own sake, but it was that I desired to accomplish my purpose. He knew that I would do what I said -- that his own fate was involved in mine. For that reason and for no other he shielded me. He thrust me into that dark hiding-place, a relic of old days, known only to himself. He took his meals in his own room, and so was able to give me part of his food. It was agreed that when the police left the house I should slip away by night and come back no more. But in some way you have read our plans." She tore from the bosom of her dress a small packet. "These are my last words," said she; "here is the packet which will save Alexis. I confide it to your honour and to your love of justice. Take it! You will deliver it at the Russian Embassy. Now I have done my duty, and ----"
"Stop her!" cried Holmes. He had bounded across the room and had wrenched a small phial from her hand.
"Too late!" she said, sinking back on the bed. "Too late! I took the poison before I left my hiding-place. My head swims! I am going! I charge you, sir, to remember the packet."
"A simple case, and yet in some ways an instructive one," Holmes remarked, as we travelled back to town. "It hinged from the outset upon the pince-nez. But for the fortunate chance of the dying man having seized these I am not sure that we could ever have reached our solution. It was clear to me from the strength of the glasses that the wearer must have been very blind and helpless when deprived of them. When you asked me to believe that she walked along a narrow strip of grass without once making a false step I remarked, as you may remember, that it was a noteworthy performance. In my mind I set it down as an impossible performance, save in the unlikely case that she had a second pair of glasses. I was forced, therefore, to seriously consider the hypothesis that she had remained within the house. On perceiving the similarity of the two corridors it became clear that she might very easily have made such a mistake, and in that case it was evident that she must have entered the Professor's room. I was keenly on the alert, therefore, for whatever would bear out this supposition, and I examined the room narrowly for anything in the shape of a hiding-place. The carpet seemed continuous and firmly nailed, so I dismissed the idea of a trap-door. There might well be a recess behind the books. As you are aware, such devices are common in old libraries. I observed that books were piled on the floor at all other points, but that one bookcase was left clear. This, then, might be the door. I could see no marks to guide me, but the carpet was of a dun colour, which lends itself very well to examination. I therefore smoked a great number of those excellent cigarettes, and I dropped the ash all over the space in front of the suspected bookcase. It was a simple trick, but exceedingly effective. I then went downstairs and I ascertained, in your presence, Watson, without your perceiving the drift of my remarks, that Professor Coram's consumption of food had increased -- as one would expect when he is supplying a second person. We then ascended to the room again, when, by upsetting the cigarette-box, I obtained a very excellent view of the floor, and was able to see quite clearly, from the traces upon the cigarette ash, that the prisoner had, in our absence, come out from her retreat. Well, Hopkins, here we are at Charing Cross, and I congratulate you on having brought your case to a successful conclusion. You are going to head-quarters, no doubt. I think, Watson, you and I will drive together to the Russian Embassy."
那是在十一月底的一个狂风暴雨的深夜。福尔摩斯和我默默地坐在一起，他用一个高倍的放大镜辨认一张纸片上的残留字迹，我在专心阅读一篇新的外科学论文。外面狂风呼啸着横扫贝克街，雨点猛烈地敲打着窗户。说来也怪，住在市中心、方圆十英里以内全是人造建筑物的地方，却仍然感到大自然对于人类的无情威胁，而且我还意识到在大自然巨大的力量面前，整个伦敦并不比田间野外的无数小土丘更坚固。我走近窗户，向着那寂静无人的街道望去，只见远处出现一缕灯光，照到泥泞的小路和发光的马路上。一辆单骑出租马车，正从牛津街的尽头溅着泥水驶过来。
福尔摩斯放下放大镜，卷起那张纸片，说：“华生，幸好我们今晚没有出去。我刚才做了不少事。这都是些伤眼睛的工作。依我看来，这不过是十五世纪后半期的一所修道院的记事簿。喂！喂！这是什么声音？”
在呼呼的风声中，又传来嗒嗒的马蹄声，还有车轮碰到人行道的石边的声音。我看到那辆出租马车在我们门前停了下来。
看见一个人从马车里走出来，我喊道：“他要做什么？”
“怎么，他要找我们。可是我们还要准备大衣、围巾、套鞋等坏天气用的各样东西。等一下！出租马车走了！这下可好了！要是他想请我们出去，他一定会让马车留下等着。亲爱的华生，别人全早睡下了，你快下楼去开开门。”
客人刚走到门厅的灯下，我立刻认出来了——他是年轻的斯坦莱·霍普金——他是一位很有前途的侦探，福尔摩斯对他的工作很感兴趣。
福尔摩斯急切地问我：“他进来了吗？”
“亲爱的朋友，"福尔摩斯站在楼上开玩笑地对他说，"请上楼来。我希望在这样的夜晚你不会对我们怀有什么不良企图吧！”
这位侦探登上楼梯，灯光照到他的雨衣上，雨衣闪着光。我帮助他脱掉雨衣，福尔摩斯把壁炉的火捅得更旺。
福尔摩斯说：“亲爱的霍普金，靠近火一点，暖暖你的脚。请吸支雪茄。我们的大夫还要给你开个处方，这样狂风暴雨的夜晚，热开水加柠檬是一剂上等良药。你在这个时候到来，一定有什么重要的事吧？”
“福尔摩斯先生，一点也不错，你知道我今天下午忙得不可开交，你看了晚报上约克斯雷那件事吗？”
“对于十五世纪以后的事情，我今天全都没看。”
“报上只是一小段，而且全不符合事实，所以读不读没有关系。我倒是抓紧时间到现场去了一趟。约克斯雷是在肯特郡，离凯瑟姆七英里，距铁路线三英里。三点十五分我接到电话，五点钟时我就到了约克斯雷旧居，进行了现场调查，然后乘最后一列火车到了查林十字街，又雇了一辆出租马车就一直到你这儿来了。”
“我想你还没弄清楚这个案件吧？”
“是的，我搞不清事情的起因。我觉得事情现在还象我去调查前一样模糊，可是开始调查的时候，好象很简单不会出错。福尔摩斯先生，没有目的的行凶怎么可能呢？使我烦恼的是我找不到行凶的目的。有一个人死了——当然谁也不能否认这件事——可是，我看不出来有人要害他的理由。”
福尔摩斯点上雪茄，然后往椅背上一靠。
他说：“请你详细谈谈。”
斯坦莱·霍普金说：“我已经把事实完全弄清楚了。可是这些事实的意义我还不能理解。根据我的调查，事情是这样的：几年前，一位年长的考芮姆教授买了这栋乡村宅邸——约克斯雷旧居。教授因为有病，总是半天躺在床上；半天拄着手杖，在住宅周围一跛一跛地走走，或是坐在轮椅上，园丁推着他在园内转转。邻居很喜欢和他来往。他在那儿是位有名的学识渊博的人。他家里有一位年纪较大的管家马可太太，还有一位女佣人苏珊·塔尔顿。自从他到这儿以来，一直是这两个人服侍他，这两个女人似乎名声不错。这位教授正在写一本专著。大约一年前，他感到需要雇用一位秘书。他请过两位，全不合适。第三位威洛比·史密斯先生，是个刚从大学毕业的青年人，教授对他很满意。秘书的工作是上午记录教授的口述，晚上查阅资料以及与第二天工作有关的书籍。威洛比·史密斯无论是年幼的时候，还是在剑桥读书的时候，行为都很好，教授十分满意。我看了他的证明书，他一直是个品行端正、性情温和、并且工作很努力的人。正是这样的一个青年，今天上午在教授的书房里遭到谋害。”
狂风在吼叫，刮得窗户吱吱作响。我和福尔摩斯不约而同地向壁炉移近了一些。这位年轻的侦探继续不慌不忙地叙述着这个故事。
他说：“我想整个英格兰没有一家象教授这样地与外界隔绝的。一连几周，他家可以没有一个人走出园子的大门。教授只埋头于他的工作，对于其它一切都不闻不问。史密斯一个邻居也不认识，过着和他主人一样的生活。也没有什么事情需要那两位妇女走出这座庭园，推轮椅的园丁莫提迈尔从军队领取抚恤金，他参加过克里木战争，也是一个好人。他住在花园的一头，那儿有三间农舍。在约克斯雷旧居内只有这些人。而且，花园的大门与从凯瑟姆到伦敦的大路相距只有一百码远。门上有个门闩，谁都可以随便进来。
“现在我给你们讲苏珊·塔尔顿的证词，只有她还能说出一点当时的情况。事情发生在上午十一点到十二点之间。那时她正在楼上，在前面的卧室里挂窗帘。考芮姆教授还躺在床上，天岂不好的时候，他过了中午才起床。女管家在房后忙着干活儿。威洛比·史密斯在他的卧室里，他的卧室也是他的起居室。这时她听到威洛比走过过道，下楼走进书房，书房正好在她脚下。她没有看见他，但是她说根据威洛比的迅速、有力的脚步声她不会弄错。她没有听到关上书房门的声音，不一会儿从下面的屋子里就发出了可怕的叫声。叫声是嘶哑的、绝望的，也是很怪的、不自然的，所以分辨不出是男人还是女人的声音。同时，又传来重重的脚步声，震得这所旧房屋都摇晃了，然后一切又安静了。苏珊惊得发呆，过一会儿她才鼓起勇气走下楼去。她看见书房的门关上了，她打开门看见威洛比躺在地板上。起初她没看见伤口，但是当她想要抬其他的时候，才看见血顺着他的脖子直往下流。脖子上刺了一个不大但是很深的伤口，切断了颈动脉，刺杀用的工具是一把放在写字台上封文件用的小刀。刀把是象牙的，刀背很硬，小刀是教授书桌上的用具。
“起初女仆以为史密斯已经死了，她用冷水瓶往他的前额上倒水的时候，他睁开了一会儿眼睛，喃喃地说：'教授，是她。'苏珊保证这是威洛比说的原话。他还努力要想说什么，曾举其他的右手。随后他就放下手死了。
“这时女管家也已经到了现场，但是她晚了一步，没有听到威洛比临终的话。她把苏珊留下看着尸体，自己跑到楼上教授的卧室。教授正坐在床上，惶恐不安，因为从听到的声音，他知道发生了不幸的事。马可太太说得很肯定，教授还穿着睡衣，莫提迈尔通常是十二点钟来帮助教授穿衣服。教授说他听到了远处的叫声，其它的事他就不知道了。他也没法解释这个青年临终的话：'教授，是她。'不过他认为这是神智不清的胡话。教授认为威洛比并没有仇人，无法解释这件谋杀案的原因。他当时立即吩咐莫提迈尔去叫当地。又过了一会儿，当地警长把我找去。我到那儿之前，什么东西全没有移动，并且警长还严格地规定不许人们从小道上走近那所房子。福尔摩斯先生，这件案子是运用你的理论的好机会，条件已经具备齐全了。”
我的朋友带着微笑幽默地说：“条件齐全了吗？还缺少歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生呢。我们先听听你的意见，霍普金先生，你认为这件谋杀案是怎么一回事？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我先要请你看看这张略图，从图上可以粗略地看出教授的书房的位置以及有关处所的位置。这样你会很容易地了解我的侦查。”
他打开那张略图，放在福尔摩斯的膝盖上。我站起来，走到福尔摩斯身旁，从他的背后看着这张图。现在我把它誊写在下面。
“当然这张图很粗略，只画了我认为重要的几处。其他地方在我讲述的时候你可以想象出来。我们首先假设凶犯走进了书房，但他是怎样进来的呢？毫无疑问，他一定是经过花园的小道，从后门走进来的。因为这是一条捷径，直通书房，从别处走都要绕远。而且凶犯一定也是顺原路逃跑的，因为书房的另外两个出口，一个苏珊早就在她下楼的时候锁上了。另一个是直接通到教授的卧室。所以，我一开始就注意花园的小道，由于最近多雨，小道很潮湿，一定能看得出足迹。
“我在侦查中发现凶手很谨慎、老练，小道上看不出足迹。不过很明显，有人沿着小道两旁的草地边走过，因为那里的草被踩倒了。这个人准是凶杀犯，因为雨是在夜里开始下的，而园丁和别的人，当天早晨都没到那里去过。”
福尔摩斯说：“请停一下，这条小道通到什么地方？”
“通到大路。”
“小道有多长？”
“大约一百码左右。”
“在大门附近，一定可以找到痕迹吧？”
“遗憾的是大门旁的路是铺了砖的。”
“那么，大路上有痕迹吗？”
“大路全踩成了烂泥。”
“真遗憾！那么草上的足迹是进来的还是出去的呢？”
“那不太好说。因为足迹的方向很不明显。”
福尔摩斯露出了不耐烦的样子。
他说：“的确，雨一直下得很大，风刮得也很猛，分辨脚印可能比我看那张纸片还要困难。这是没办法的事。霍普金，当你知道已经毫无办法的时候，你打算怎么办呢？”
“福尔摩斯先生，我想我还是弄清了一些情况的。我敢肯定是有人从外面谨慎地走进了屋内，我还检查了过道。过道铺着椰子毛编的垫子，垫子上没有什么痕迹。我从过道走到书房。书房里的家具不多。主要的有一个写字台，下边有个固定着的柜子。柜子有两排抽屉，中间是个小柜，抽屉全开着，小柜锁着。抽屉大概经常是开着，里面没有贵重的东西。小柜里有些重要文件，但是不象是被翻弄过的。教授对我说没有丢失什么东西。看来确实也没有劫走什么东西。
“我走到这个青年的尸体旁边。尸体靠近柜子的左边，图上已经标明。刀子是刺在脖子的右边，从后向前扎过去的，所以不可能是自杀。”
福尔摩斯说：“除非他摔倒在刀子上。”
“是的，这个想法我也有过，可是刀子是在离尸体几英尺外的地方，因此，这是不可能的。当然，死者自己的话也可以做证。另外，还有一件最重要的证据，握在死者右手中。”
斯坦莱·霍普金从他的口袋里取出一个小纸包。他打开纸包，取出一副金边夹鼻眼镜，眼镜一端垂着一条断成两截的黑丝带。他说：“威洛比·史密斯的视力很好。这副眼镜一定是从凶手的脸上或是身上夺过来的。”
福尔摩斯接过眼镜，饶有兴味地赏玩起来。他把眼镜架在自己的鼻梁上，试着看东西，又走近窗户向外面巡视，然后便凑到灯光下，仔细地观察这副眼镜。最后，他哈哈地笑起来，坐在桌旁拿起一张纸，写了几行字，然后扔给对面的斯坦莱·霍普金。
他说：“我只能这样帮助你，也许有些用处。”
霍普金大声地读道：
"寻找一位穿着体面、打扮得象贵族似的妇女。她的鼻子很宽，眼睛紧挨鼻子，前额上有皱纹，面容呆滞刻板，也许她还有点削肩。有些迹象表明，最近几个月里她至少两次去过同一家眼镜店。她的眼镜度数很深。这座城市眼镜店不多，找到她是不难的。”
霍普金露出非常惊异的神色，此时我的面部表情一定也是同样的，而福尔摩斯只微笑了一下，又接着说：“得出以上的结论是很容易的。什么东西也不如眼镜能够这样有力地说明问题，何况这又是一副特别的眼镜呢。考虑到眼镜的精致以及死者的遗言，不难推论出眼镜是属于一位妇女的。至于说她是一个文雅的穿着体面的人，那是因为我认为一个带金边眼镜的人在服饰方面是不会邋遢的。你注意到了吗，这副眼镜的夹子很宽，这说明这位女士的鼻子底部很宽。这样的鼻子一般都是短而粗的，不过也有很多例外，所以这一点我不敢过于武断。我的脸型是狭长的，可是我的眼睛还对不上镜片的中心，可见这位妇女的眼睛长得十分靠近鼻子。华生，你看得出镜片是凹陷的，度数很深。一个人平时总要眯着眼睛看东西，这必然会在生理上产生一定影响，使前额、眼睑以及肩膀具有某些特点。”
我说：“是的，我能理解你的推论。但是，我必须承认，我不能理解你怎样得出她两次去眼镜店的说法。”
福尔摩斯把眼镜摘下拿在手中。
他说：“你们可以看见，眼镜的夹子衬着软木，以防压痛鼻子。这里，一块软木褪了色，而且有点磨损，可是另一块是新的。显然这边有一块软木掉过，并且换了新的。而这块旧的软木，我认为装上不过几个月。两块软木完全相同，所以我推测她去过同一家眼镜店两次。”
霍普金羡慕地说：“天啊！妙极了，所有的证据全在我的手中，可是我却无能为力，不过我倒是想过要去伦敦各家眼镜店的。”
“当然，你是应该去的。你还有什么要告诉我的吗？”
“没有了，我知道的并不比你多，也许你知道的要更多些，凡是在那条大路上，或是火车站上出现的陌生人，我们全都盘查过。我们没有得到什么情况。令人伤脑筋的是这件谋杀案的目的。谁也说不清到底是为了什么。”
“啊！这我可没办法帮助你了。你是不是要我们明天去看看呢？”
“福尔摩斯先生，如果你能去的话，那太好了。早晨六点钟有火车从查林十字街开到凯瑟姆，点钟就可以到约克斯雷旧居。”
“那么我们就坐这趟火车。这个案件有些方面确实使人很感兴趣，我愿意调查一下。快一点了，我们最好睡几个小时。你在壁炉前面的沙发上睡，一定很舒服。明天动身以前，我点上酒精灯给你煮一杯咖啡。”
第二天早晨，风已经停了。我们动身上路时，天气依然很冷。严冬的太阳无精打采地照在泰晤士河以及两岸的沼泽地上。经过一段令人厌倦的路程，我们在离凯瑟姆几英里远的车站下了火车。在等候马车时，急急忙忙吃了早饭，所以一到约克斯雷旧居，我们便立即开始工作。一位在花园的大门口等候我们。
“威尔逊，有什么消息吗？”
“先生，没有。”
“有没有人报告看见了生人？”
“没有。昨天火车站那儿既没有生人来，也没有生人从那儿走。”
“你问过旅店和其它一些可以住宿的地方了吗？”
“问过了，先生。找不到一个和谋杀有关的人。”
“从这儿走到凯瑟姆不算远。有人待在凯瑟姆或是去上火车是不会不被注意的。福尔摩斯先生，这就是我说的那条小道。我保证昨天小道上没有足迹。”
“草地上的足迹是在小道的哪一边呢？”
“先生，这一边。在小道和花坛之间的很窄的边缘上。现在看不见了，可是我昨天看得还很清楚。”
福尔摩斯弯腰看着草地，说：“是的，有人经过这儿。这位妇女走路一定很小心，不然的话，她会在小道上留下痕迹的，如果在小道的另一边走，就会在湿软的地上留下更清楚的痕迹。”
“是的，先生，她一定是一个头脑很冷静的人。”
福尔摩斯聚精会神地思考着。
“你说她一定是从这条路走出去的？”
“是的，先生，没有别的路。”
“从这一段草地上吗？”
“肯定是这样，福尔摩斯先生。”
“哼，这件谋杀案干得很出色——很出色，小道已经到头儿了吗？我们再往前走。我想花园的这扇小门通常是开着的吧，唔，那么这位客人一定是从这儿走进屋的。那时她还没有想到杀人，不然的话她会带着武器，而不必去拿写字台上的刀子。她走过过道，在椰子毛的垫子上没有留下痕迹，然后她走进了书房。她在书房呆了多久？我们没法判断。”
“先生，不过几分钟。我忘记告诉你了，女管家马可太太在出事不久以前，还在书房里打扫，她说大约在出事一刻钟以前。”
“这告诉我们一个时限。这位夫人进到屋内，做了些什么呢？她走到写字台旁边。为什么要走近写字台？不会是为了抽屉里的东西。要是有值得她拿的东西，一定也已经锁起来了。她是要拿小柜里的东西，咦！小柜上象有什么东西划过，这痕迹是怎么回事？华生，点根火柴。霍普金，你为什么没有告诉我这划痕呢？”
福尔摩斯检查了这道划痕，它是从钥匙孔右边的铜片上开始的，大约有四英寸长，小柜表面上的皮被划掉了。
“福尔摩斯先生，我看见了，不过钥匙孔周围总是有划痕的。”
“这个划痕是新的，很新。你看，铜片上划过的地方有多亮啊！旧的划痕颜色和铜片表面颜色是一样的。你用我的放大镜看一下这里的油漆，这条痕迹两边的油漆象犁沟两旁翻起的土一样。马可太太在吗？”
一位年纪较大面带愁容的妇女走进屋里。
“你昨天上午擦过这个柜子吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“你看到这条痕迹了吗？”
“先生，我没有。”
“肯定你没有，不然抹布会把油漆的粉屑擦掉的。谁拿着这个柜子的钥匙？”
“钥匙挂在教授的表链上。”
“是一把普通的钥匙吗？”
“是一把车布牌的钥匙。”
“好，马可太太，你可以走了。现在我们有一点进展了。这位夫人走进屋子里，来到柜子前，不是已经打开了它，便是要设法打开。正在这个时候，威洛比·史密斯来到屋里。她匆匆忙忙抽出钥匙，不小心在柜门上划了一道痕迹。威洛比捉住了她，她抄起一件近在手边的东西，正好是那把刀子，向威洛比扎去，好让威洛比放开她。这一扎使威洛比受了致命伤。威洛比倒下了，她逃跑了，也许带着她要拿的东西，也许没有带着。女仆苏珊在这儿吗？苏珊，你听见喊叫的声音以后，她能从那扇门走掉吗？”
“不能，先生，那是完全不可能的。要是有人在过道里，我不必到楼下来就可以看见。这扇门没有开过，不然的话，我会听到声音的。”
“这边的出口没问题了。那么这位夫人一定是从她来的路逃出去的。我知道这面的过道通到教授的卧室。那这里没有出口吧？”
“没有，先生。”
“走，我们一起去看一看教授。喂，霍普金，这点很重要，确实很重要：通向教授卧室的过道也铺着椰子毛垫子。”
“可是这与案情有什么关系呢？”
“你看不出来吗？我并不坚持一定有关系，可是我觉得会有帮助。我们一起去，你把我介绍一下。”
我们走过这个过道，它和通向花园的那个过道同样长。过道的尽头有一段楼梯，楼梯尽头是一扇门。霍普金敲了门，然后就把我们带进教授的卧室。
这间房很大，屋里堆满了书籍，书架上，书柜下，到处都是书，一张单人床放在屋子正中央。这栋房子的主人，正靠着枕头，躺在床上。我从来没有看见过外貌这样奇特的人。教授面庞瘦削，长着鹰钩鼻子，他转过脸，我们看到一对敏锐的深蓝色眼睛，深陷在眼眶中，成簇的眉毛低垂着，他的头发和胡须全白了，只有嘴巴周围的口髭还有些发黄。在蓬乱的白胡须中一支烟卷发出亮光。屋子里充满了难闻的陈旧的烟草味。他向福尔摩斯伸出手的时候，我看见他手上沾满了黄色的尼古丁。
他说话很注意用词，并且声调十分缓慢。
“福尔摩斯先生，您抽烟吗？请您抽一支吧。这位先生，您也抽一支吧，我愿意让您尝尝这烟，因为这是亚历山大港①的埃俄尼弟斯为我特制的。他每次寄来一千支，每两周我必须让他寄来一次。这不好，很不好，可是有什么办法呢，一个老人又没有什么可供娱乐的。留给我的只有烟草和工作。”
福尔摩斯点燃一支烟卷，一边用眼睛满屋子瞟来瞟去地看着。
老人感慨地说：“烟卷和工作，可是现在只有烟卷了。唉！发生这件事实在是不幸，连我也无心工作了！这真是祸从天降呵！多么难得的一个好青年呵！我敢担保，再经过几个月训练，他会成为一个很好的助手。福尔摩斯先生，您怎么看这件事呢？”
“我还没有想好。”
“如果您能帮助我们弄清这件没有头绪的案子，我会非常感激您的。象我这样的书呆子和残废人，受到这种打击，简直是当头一棒，我连思考的能力都没有了。好在您来了，而且又那样精明强干，您的天赋和职业那样紧密地结合在一起，使得您在任何紧急情况下，都能够处之泰然，有您帮助我们，实在是万分荣幸。”
福尔摩斯在屋子里走来走去，而老教授还在不停地讲着。我注意到福尔摩斯烟吸得很快。看来，他也象这屋子的主人一样，很喜欢这种新寄来的亚历山大烟卷。
老人说：“是的，先生，这是一次毁灭性的打击。小桌子上的那一叠稿件是我的著作。我对天气教派的理论基础作了①埃及的一个海港。——译者注深入的研究，并且分析了在叙利亚和埃及的科普特寺院中发现的文献。因此，这部著作是很有价值的。但是，由于我的身体日益衰弱，又失去了助手，我真不知道还能否继续完成此部著作。呀！福尔摩斯先生，你吸烟比我还快！”
福尔摩斯笑了。
他从烟盒中又取出一支，这已经是第四支了，用剩下的烟头点着，然后说道：“我是一个鉴赏家。我不想长时间地盘问你，给你找许多麻烦。考芮姆教授，我知道出事的时候，你在床上，所以什么也不知道。我只想问一个问题，可怜的威洛比最后说：'教授，是她'，你认为他的意思是什么？”
教授摇了摇头。
他说：“苏珊是个农村的女孩子。你知道这种人是愚蠢得令人难以置信的。我想这个青年人只是咕哝了一些不连贯的谵语，而苏珊却错误地把它理解成了意思不明的话。”
“那么，您自己对于这件事怎样解释呢？”
“可能是个偶然事件，也可能是自杀，不过我只在我们自己人里这样说说，青年们都有些隐藏在内心的烦恼，如象爱情这类的事，这是我们无法知道的。或许这比谋杀的可能性更大一些。”
“可是怎样解释那副眼镜呢？”
“我不过是一个读书人，一个好空想的人。我不善于解释生活中的实际事物。但是，我的朋友，我们知道爱情的晴雨表是有其特殊的表现形式的。请务必再吸一支烟。我很高兴您能这样赏光。当一个人要结束自己生命的时候，可以把一把扇子、一双手套、一副眼镜等等任何东西当作珍品拿在手中。这位先生谈到草地上的脚印，这种推测是很容易弄错的。至于刀子，很可能是这个青年摔倒的时候丢出去的。可能我说得不对，总之，我认为威洛比是自杀身死的。”
这种解释似乎使福尔摩斯感到惊异，不过他继续踱来踱去，专心思索，一支又一支地吸着烟。
过了一会儿，他说：“考芮姆教授，请告诉我写字台的小柜里装着什么？”
“没有什么使小偷感兴趣的东西。家里人的证件，我不幸的妻子的来信，我在一些大学的学位证书，这是钥匙。你自己可以去看看。”
福尔摩斯接过钥匙，看了一会儿，然后又把它还给教授。
他说：“我想钥匙对我没什么用处。我倒更愿意悄悄地到你的花园里，把情况好好思考一下。你提出的自杀的说法，还是应该考虑的。考芮姆教授，很抱歉，我们突然来打扰你。午饭以前我们不再来打搅你了。两点钟的时候，我们再来，向你报告有关情况。”
说来也怪，福尔摩斯好象有些心不在焉。我们在花园的小道上，默默地来回走了许久。
我后来问：“你有线索了吗？”
他说：“这完全取决于我所吸的这些烟卷。也有可能我完全错了，不过，烟卷会告诉我的。”
我惊讶地说：“亲爱的福尔摩斯，你怎么——”
“你会明白的。如果不是这样，并没有害处。当然，我们还可以再去找眼镜店这个线索。可是如果眼镜店这个线索不对头，我就找到了解决问题的捷径，啊！马可太太来了！我们和她好好谈五分钟，这对于破案会有启发的。”
我早就应当指出，如果福尔摩斯愿意的话，他是很会讨好女人的，并且他还能很快就取得她们的信任。没有用五分钟，他便得到了这位女管家的信任，并且和她谈得很投机，象是多年的老朋友一样。
“是的，福尔摩斯先生，正象你说的那样，一定是有什么不好的事情，使他不断地抽烟。有的时候简直是整天整夜地吸烟。有一天早晨我到他那儿去，屋子里满是烟气，就象伦敦的雾那样浓。可怜的史密斯先生也吸烟，但是不象教授吸得那样厉害。对于教授的健康，哼，我不知道吸烟是有好处还是有害处。”
福尔摩斯说：“啊，可是吸烟妨害食欲。”
“先生，这我不懂。”
“我想，教授吃东西一定很少。”
“我应该说，他的食量时大时小。”
“我敢打赌，他今天早晨一定没有吃早饭。我看见他抽了这么多支烟，大概午饭也吃不下了。”
“先生，你输了，事情和你想的完全不一样，他今天早晨吃得很多。我从来没有看见过他吃这么多，而且午饭他又要了一大盘肉排。真叫我吃惊。可是我呢，自从昨天早晨我看见史密斯先生倒在屋里地板上起，我对吃的东西就连看都不想看了。是的，世界上有各式各样的人，教授可没因为这件事吃不下饭。”
整整一个上午，我们在花园里消磨过去了。斯坦莱·霍普金到村子里去调查一些传言，据说前天清早有几个孩子，在凯瑟姆大路上，看见了一个奇怪的女人。至于我的朋友呢，听到这个消息，他就变得象一个有气无力的人，我从来没有看见过他这样心不在焉地处理案子。甚至连霍普金带回来的消息，也没能引其他的兴趣。霍普金说：“有的孩子确实看见过一个相貌完全象福尔摩斯所说的那样的妇女，她带着一副眼镜，也许是夹鼻眼镜。"吃饭的时候，苏珊一边服侍我们，一边也积极地讲了一些情况。他的话倒引起了福尔摩斯的极大兴趣。苏珊说：“昨天清晨史密斯先生出去散步，回来只有半小时，便发生了这件惨案。"我实在不能理解散步这件事对整个案情有什么影响。可是我清楚地看出福尔摩斯把这件事纳入他对整个案件的解释里了。突然福尔摩斯站了起来，看了一下表。他说：“两点了，先生们，我们该上楼去了，和我们这位教授把事情谈个明白。”
这位老人刚刚吃过午饭，桌上的空盘子说明他的食欲很好，女管家说得很对。当他转过头来，闪烁的目光投向我们时，我感到他确实是个神秘的人物。他已经穿好衣服，坐在火旁的一个扶手椅上。嘴上仍然抽着烟。
“福尔摩斯先生，你搞清这个离奇的案子了吗？"他把桌子上靠近自己的一大铁盒烟卷，推向福尔摩斯一边。于是福尔摩斯伸出手去，不料他们二人把烟盒打翻了，烟卷滚了满地。我们只好跪下来，到处拣散落的烟卷，足足用了一两分钟。当我们站起来的时候，我看到福尔摩斯眼睛里闪烁着光芒，他的两颊显得特别红润。在他脸上一现即逝的这种临战的表情，我只在最危急的情况下，看到过一次。
他说：“是的，我已经弄清楚了。”
霍普金和我目瞪口呆。老教授憔悴的面孔不停地颤动着，同时露出讥讽的嘲笑。
“真的！在花园里？”
“不，在这里。”
“这里！什么时候？”
“就是现在。”
“福尔摩斯先生，你一定是在开玩笑。我不得不提醒你，这是件极其严肃的事情，不能这样随随便便。”
“考芮姆教授，我的结论的每个论点，都是经过调查核实的，所以我敢肯定它是对的。至于你的动机是什么，以及在这个奇怪的案件中，你扮演了什么角色，我还不能确定。过几分钟你或许会亲口对我讲。为了给你个方便，还是由我来把这两天发生的事叙述一下，这样你也可以明白我还要查问什么。
“有一位妇女昨天走进你的书房，她来的目的是要拿走你写字台柜子里的文件。她身上带有一把钥匙，至于你的钥匙，我已经检查过，你的钥匙上没有那个划痕能够造成的轻微退色。我从有关证据得知，你并不知道她来抢文件，所以，你不是从犯。”
教授吐出一口浓烟，说：“这倒很有趣而且对我颇有启发。那么这位女士的情况，你已经弄清了不少，当然你也能说出她以后的行动喽？”
“不错，先生，我是要说的。起初你的秘书抓住了她，为了脱身，她就抓起小刀向这位秘书刺去。不过，我倾向于把这个案件看成是不幸的偶然事件，因为我认为这位女士并不想刺死秘书；如果是预谋杀人，她必定自己带着武器。结果，她做的事使她非常害怕，她不顾一切地要赶快逃走，不料在和威洛比厮打的时候，她丢了眼镜。她很近视，不戴眼镜什么也看不清。她沿着一个过道跑，以为就是来的时候走的过道，凑巧的是两边过道全铺着椰子毛织的垫子。当她知道走错了的时候，已经太晚了，退路已被切断。怎么办呢？她不能退回去，又不能站在那儿不动，她只好继续向前走。她上了楼梯，推开房门，便来到你的房中。”
老教授坐在那儿，张着嘴，目不转睛地看着福尔摩斯，脸上露出极度的惊讶和恐惧。他故作镇静地耸耸肩，发出一阵假笑。
他说：“福尔摩斯先生，你的推论很不错，可是有一个小漏洞。你知道，我一直在屋里，一整天都没有离开过。”
“考芮姆教授，我知道这一点。”
“那就是说我躺在床上，没有注意到有位妇女来到我屋里？”
“我并没有这样说。你注意到有人来。你和她讲话，你认识她，并且你协助她逃脱。”
教授又高声笑了起来。他猛地立起身，眼睛里飘着最后一线希望。
他大声喊道：“你发疯了！你在说胡话！我帮助她逃脱？她现在在哪儿？”
福尔摩斯指着放在屋子一角的一个高高的书柜，冷静地说：“她在那里。”
刹时，老人惊呆了。他举起颤抖的双手，接着整个躯体却又颓然落倒在椅子上。这时，屋角上的书柜门自动打开了，一位妇女急冲冲地走出来，站在屋子中间。她用很怪的异国语调说：“你对了！你对了！我是在这儿。”
她满身满脸都是一道道的尘土，衣服上还挂着从墙上蹭来的蜘蛛网。她长得并不漂亮，她的体型和脸型正是象福尔摩斯所推测的那样，此外，她的下巴也比较长，显得很顽强。她的视力本来就很差，同时又是刚从暗处到明处，因此她站在那儿眨着两眼，努力要看出我们的位置和身分。尽管她并不漂亮，但是举止端庄，神态从容，表现出一种顽强和豪迈的精神，使在场的人无不为之敬慕。
斯坦莱·霍普金抓住她的手臂，就要给她戴上手铐。她神色庄严地把霍普金轻轻推开。老教授仰靠在扶手椅上，微微颤抖着，目光阴郁地看着她。
她说：“先生，我是被捕了。我站在柜子里可以听到一切，所以我知道你们已经弄清了事实。我愿意交待全部事实，是我杀死了那个青年。你说那是意外事件，这是对的。我不知道我手中拿的是刀子，因为我从桌子上抓起一件东西，便绝望地向那个青年刺去，好让他放开我。我说的是真实情况。”
福尔摩斯说：“夫人，我相信你说的是事实。我看你身体很不好。”
她的脸色很难看，加上一道道的尘土简直显得可怕。她坐到床边上，继续说：
“我剩下的时间不多了，可是我仍然要把全部事实告诉你们。我是这个人的妻子。他不是英国人，他是个人，我不想说出他的名字。”
这个老人显得心情激动，他喊道：“安娜，上帝保佑你，上帝保佑你！”
她非常藐视地向着老人看了一眼，说：“塞尔吉斯，你为什么一定要过这种痛苦的生活呢？你一生毁掉了许多人，甚至对于你自己也没有好处。可是是否在上帝召唤你之前，便结束你的生命，这要由你自己决定。但是，我一定要说，不然的话，我便没有时间了。
“先生们，我说过我是这个人的妻子。我们结婚的时候，他已经五十岁，而我只是一个二十岁的傻姑娘。我在的一个城市上大学，我不想说出这个地名。”
老人又咕哝地说：“安娜，上帝保佑你。”
“你知道，我们是革新家、者、无政府主义者。我们人数很多。后来遇到困难，由于一个警长被害，我们有许多人被捕了。而他为了得到一大笔钱，更为了活命，便提供证据，背叛了他的妻子和伙伴。由于他的交待，我们全都被捕了。有的被送上绞刑架，有的被流放到西伯利亚。我被送到西伯利亚，但不是终生流放。我丈夫带着那笔不义之财来到英国，过上了安宁的生活。他知道得很清楚，如果我们的团体知道了他在哪儿，不到一个星期就会结束他的生命。"老人哆哆嗦嗦地伸出手又拿起一支烟卷。他说：“安娜，你随便处置我吧，你一向对我很好。”
她说：“我还没有把他的最大罪恶告诉你们。在我们的团体里，有位同志是我现在的朋友，他高尚、大公无私、乐于助人，这些气质我丈夫全没有。他仇视暴力，如果说使用暴力是犯罪的话，我们全都犯过罪，只有他没有。他总是写信给我们，劝我们不要使用暴力。这些信件是可以使他免受刑罚的。我的日记也可以证明，因为我在日记中记述了我对他的感情以及我们每个人的看法。可是我丈夫发现了这些信件和我的日记，就偷偷把它们藏了起来，一面还尽力证明这位年轻人应判死刑。虽然他没有达到目的，但是阿列克谢被当做罪犯送到西伯利亚，在一个盐矿做工。你这个恶棍，你想想，你好好想想，那样高尚的一个人却受着奴隶般的待遇，而你，你的生命就在我手中，可我还是放过了你。”
老人一面吐着烟，一面说：“安娜，你是一个高尚的女人。”
她慢慢站了起来，但是紧接着她发出了一声痛苦的喊叫，便又坐了下去。
她说：“我一定要说完。在我服刑期满以后，我就开始设法寻找这些信件和日记，因为如果政府得到这些东西，便会释放我的朋友。我知道我的丈夫来到了英国。经过几个月的查访，我终于弄清了他的住址。我知道他仍然保存着这些日记，因为当我还在西伯利亚时，他有一次给我写信，信中责备我时引用的是我日记中的话。我清楚地知道，由于他生性报复心强，他一定不会自愿地把日记交还给我。我必须想办法亲自弄到手。因此，我请了一位私人侦探，他到我丈夫家来做秘书——也就是你的第二个秘书，塞尔吉斯。他来不久便很快走了，他发现文件全收在小柜中，并且取了钥匙样。他不愿意做更多的事，便把这栋房的平面图交给了我，并且告诉我，秘书是在楼上住，上午书房里没有人。所以我后来才鼓起最大的勇气，亲自来拿这些东西，东西拿到了，可是，付出了什么样的代价啊！
“我刚刚拿到日记和信件，正要锁上柜子，这时一个青年抓住了我。那天清早我曾在路上遇见过他，我请他告诉我考芮姆教授的住处，可是不知道他是考芮姆雇用的人。”
福尔摩斯说：“是这样的！秘书回来以后告诉了考芮姆，说他遇见了一个什么样子的妇女。威洛比在断气之前想要说明：就是他和教授说过的那个女人杀了他。”
这位妇女面部抽搐，好象非常痛苦，并用命令的口吻说：
“你让我讲完。这个年轻人倒下去的时候，我闯出书房，走错了门来到我丈夫的房间。他说要告发我。我告诉他：他如果这样做，我不会放过他，他如果把我交给，我就把他的事告诉我们的团体。我不是为了自己想活命，而是想要达到我的目的。他知道我说到做到，而他自己的命运又和我的命运互相牵连，只是因为这个原故，他才掩护了我。他把我塞进那个黑暗的角落——只有他自己才知道这个秘密。他让佣人把饭送到屋里，以便分给我一些。我们商量好，只要一离开这栋房子，我就乘黑夜偷偷走掉，并且永远不再回来。但是你到底识破了我们的计划。这是我生前最后的话。"她从胸前拿出一个小包。她对福尔摩斯说：“这个小包裹可以救阿列克谢。先生，由于你的荣誉和正义，我把这包裹委托给你，请你把它转交给大使馆。我已尽了我的责任，并且……”
福尔摩斯突然喊道：“挡住她！"他一下子跳到屋子的另一边，从她手中夺下一只小药品。
她往床上倒了下去，说：“太晚了！太晚了！我出来……的时候，便吃了药。我头晕。我要死了！先生，我请求你……不要忘记……那个小……包裹。”
我们乘车回城时，福尔摩斯说：“这案件很简单，但是也很发人深思。从一开始问题便围绕着夹鼻眼镜。虽然那个青年在临死前幸运地抓到眼镜，但是我那时还不能肯定，我们是否能够解决问题。很清楚，从眼镜深度可以断定，戴眼镜的人近视程度很深，离开眼镜什么事也做不了。霍普金先生，当你让我相信她确实走过一小块草地，而不是故意作假时，你还记得吗，我当时说过，这种做法很不寻常，值得注意。可是实际上我心中认为这完全不可能，除非她还有一副眼镜。所以，我只能认真考虑另一个假设——她呆在这栋房子内。我一看见两个过道完全相似，就想到她很可能走错路，这样她就会走到教授的屋中。我密切地注意一切能够证实这个假设的事情，我仔细地检查这间屋子有没有可以躲藏的地方。地毯是整块的，并且钉得很牢固，所以地板上不会有活门。书柜后面可能有躲藏的地方。你知道，在老式的书房里常有这种结构。我注意到地板上各处都堆满了书，但是书柜却是空的，所以书柜可能是一扇门。我找不到别的证据来证实，但是地毯是暗褐色，所以我抽了很多支那种好烟，把烟灰洒在可疑的书柜前。这是一个很简单的办法，但是非常有效。然后我便下楼去了，并且，我已经弄清楚——华生，当时你也在场，而你却没有理解我谈话的目的——考芮姆教授的饭量增加了，这容易使人怀疑他还让另一个人吃饭。然后，我们又上楼去了，我弄翻烟卷盒，以便清楚地看看地毯。从地毯上的烟灰可以知道，在我们离开那里以后，她从躲藏的地方出来过。霍普金，我们已经到了查林十字街，我祝贺你胜利地结束了这个案件。你一定是去总部吧！我和华生要到使馆去，再见，我的朋友。”
The gale had blown itself out next day, but it was a bitter morning when we started upon our journey. We saw the cold winter sun rise over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career. After a long and weary journey we alighted at a small station some miles from Chatham. While a horse was being put into a trap at the local inn we snatched a hurried breakfast, and so we were all ready for business when we at last arrived at Yoxley Old Place. A constable met us at the garden gate.
"Well, Wilson, any news?"
"No, sir, nothing."
"No reports of any stranger seen?"
"No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no stranger either came or went yesterday."
"Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?"
"Yes, sir; there is no one that we cannot account for."
"Well, it's only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might stay there, or take a train without being observed. This is the garden path of which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I'll pledge my word there was no mark on it yesterday."
"On which side were the marks on the grass?"
"This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path and the flower-bed. I can't see the traces now, but they were clear to me then."
"Yes, yes; someone has passed along," said Holmes, stooping over the grass border. "Our lady must have picked her steps carefully, must she not, since on the one side she would leave a track on the path, and on the other an even clearer one on the soft bed?"
"Yes, sir, she must have been a cool hand."
I saw an intent look pass over Holmes's face.
"You say that she must have come back this way?"
"Yes, sir; there is no other."
"On this strip of grass?"
"Certainly, Mr. Holmes."
"Hum! It was a very remarkable performance -- very remarkable. Well, I think we have exhausted the path. Let us go farther. This garden door is usually kept open, I suppose? Then this visitor had nothing to do but to walk in. The idea of murder was not in her mind, or she would have provided herself with some sort of weapon, instead of having to pick this knife off the writing-table. She advanced along this corridor, leaving no traces upon the cocoanut matting. Then she found herself in this study. How long was she there? We have no means of judging."
"Not more than a few minutes, sir. I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Marker, the housekeeper, had been in there tidying not very long before -- about a quarter of an hour, she says."
"Well, that gives us a limit. Our lady enters this room and what does she do? She goes over to the writing-table. What for? Not for anything in the drawers. If there had been anything worth her taking it would surely have been locked up. No; it was for something in that wooden bureau. Halloa! what is that scratch upon the face of it? Just hold a match, Watson. Why did you not tell me of this, Hopkins?"
The mark which he was examining began upon the brass work on the right-hand side of the keyhole, and extended for about four inches, where it had scratched the varnish from the surface.
"I noticed it, Mr. Holmes. But you'll always find scratches round a keyhole."
"This is recent, quite recent. See how the brass shines where it is cut. An old scratch would be the same colour as the surface. Look at it through my lens. There's the varnish, too, like earth on each side of a furrow. Is Mrs. Marker there?"
A sad-faced, elderly woman came into the room.
"Did you dust this bureau yesterday morning?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you notice this scratch?"
"No, sir, I did not."
"I am sure you did not, for a duster would have swept away these shreds of varnish. Who has the key of this bureau?"
"The Professor keeps it on his watch-chain."
"Is it a simple key?"
"No, sir; it is a Chubb's key."
"Very good. Mrs. Marker, you can go. Now we are making a little progress. Our lady enters the room, advances to the bureau, and either opens it or tries to do so. While she is thus engaged young Willoughby Smith enters the room. In her hurry to withdraw the key she makes this scratch upon the door. He seizes her, and she, snatching up the nearest object, which happens to be this knife, strikes at him in order to make him let go his hold. The blow is a fatal one. He falls and she escapes, either with or without the object for which she has come. Is Susan the maid there? Could anyone have got away through that door after the time that you heard the cry, Susan?"
"No sir; it is impossible. Before I got down the stair I'd have seen anyone in the passage. Besides, the door never opened, for I would have heard it."
"That settles this exit. Then no doubt the lady went out the way she came. I understand that this other passage leads only to the Professor's room. There is no exit that way?"
"No, sir."
"We shall go down it and make the acquaintance of the Professor. Halloa, Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. The Professor's corridor is also lined with cocoanut matting."
"Well, sir, what of that?"
"Don't you see any bearing upon the case? Well, well, I don't insist upon it. No doubt I am wrong. And yet it seems to me to be suggestive. Come with me and introduce me."
We passed down the passage, which was of the same length as that which led to the garden. At the end was a short flight of steps ending in a door. Our guide knocked, and then ushered us into the Professor's bedroom.
It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, which had overflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, or were stacked all round at the base of the cases. The bed was in the centre of the room, and in it, propped up with pillows, was the owner of the house. I have seldom seen a more remarkable-looking person. It was a gaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us, with piercing dark eyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhung and tufted brows. His hair and beard were white, save that the latter was curiously stained with yellow around his mouth. A cigarette glowed amid the tangle of white hair, and the air of the room was fetid with stale tobacco-smoke. As he held out his hand to Holmes I perceived that it also was stained yellow with nicotine.
"A smoker, Mr. Holmes?" said he, speaking well-chosen English with a curious little mincing accent. "Pray take a cigarette. And you, sir? I can recommend them, for I have them especially prepared by Ionides of Alexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieve to say that I have to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad, sir, very bad, but an old man has few pleasures. Tobacco and my work -- that is all that is left to me."
Holmes had lit a cigarette, and was shooting little darting glances all over the room.
"Tobacco and my work, but now only tobacco," the old man exclaimed. "Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseen such a terrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure you that after a few months' training he was an admirable assistant. What do you think of the matter, Mr. Holmes?"
"I have not yet made up my mind."
"I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light where all is so dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myself such a blow is paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought. But you are a man of action -- you are a man of affairs. It is part of the everyday routine of your life. You can preserve your balance in every emergency. We are fortunate indeed in having you at our side."
Holmes was pacing up and down one side of the room whilst the old Professor was talking. I observed that he was smoking with extraordinary rapidity. It was evident that he shared our host's liking for the fresh Alexandrian cigarettes.
"Yes, sir, it is a crushing blow," said the old man. "That is my MAGNUM OPUS -- the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is my analysis of the documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt, a work which will cut deep at the very foundations of revealed religion. With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shall ever be able to complete it now that my assistant has been taken from me. Dear me, Mr. Holmes; why, you are even a quicker smoker than I am myself."
Holmes smiled.
"I am a connoisseur," said he, taking another cigarette from the box -- his fourth -- and lighting it from the stub of that which he had finished. "I will not trouble you with any lengthy cross-examination, Professor Coram, since I gather that you were in bed at the time of the crime and could know nothing about it. I would only ask this. What do you imagine that this poor fellow meant by his last words: `The Professor -- it was she'?"
The Professor shook his head.
"Susan is a country girl," said he, "and you know the incredible stupidity of that class. I fancy that the poor fellow murmured some incoherent delirious words, and that she twisted them into this meaningless message."
"I see. You have no explanation yourself of the tragedy?"
"Possibly an accident; possibly -- I only breathe it among ourselves -- a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles -- some affair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known. It is a more probable supposition than murder."
"But the eye-glasses?"
"Ah! I am only a student -- a man of dreams. I cannot explain the practical things of life. But still, we are aware, my friend, that love-gages may take strange shapes. By all means take another cigarette. It is a pleasure to see anyone appreciate them so. A fan, a glove, glasses -- who knows what article may be carried as a token or treasured when a man puts an end to his life? This gentleman speaks of footsteps in the grass; but, after all, it is easy to be mistaken on such a point. As to the knife, it might well be thrown far from the unfortunate man as he fell. It is possible that I speak as a child, but to me it seems that Willoughby Smith has met his fate by his own hand."
Holmes seemed struck by the theory thus put forward, and he continued to walk up and down for some time, lost in thought and consuming cigarette after cigarette.
"Tell me, Professor Coram," he said, at last, "what is in that cupboard in the bureau?"
"Nothing that would help a thief. Family papers, letters from my poor wife, diplomas of Universities which have done me honour. Here is the key. You can look for yourself."
Holmes picked up the key and looked at it for an instant; then he handed it back.
"No; I hardly think that it would help me," said he. "I should prefer to go quietly down to your garden and turn the whole matter over in my head. There is something to be said for the theory of suicide which you have put forward. We must apologize for having intruded upon you, Professor Coram, and I promise that we won't disturb you until after lunch. At two o'clock we will come again and report to you anything which may have happened in the interval."
Holmes was curiously distrait, and we walked up and down the garden path for some time in silence.
"Have you a clue?" I asked, at last.
"It depends upon those cigarettes that I smoked," said he. "It is possible that I am utterly mistaken. The cigarettes will show me."
"My dear Holmes," I exclaimed, "how on earth ----"
"Well, well, you may see for yourself. If not, there's no harm done. Of course, we always have the optician clue to fall back upon, but I take a short cut when I can get it. Ah, here is the good Mrs. Marker! Let us enjoy five minutes of instructive conversation with her."
I may have remarked before that Holmes had, when he liked, a peculiarly ingratiating way with women, and that he very readily established terms of confidence with them. In half the time which he had named he had captured the housekeeper's goodwill, and was chatting with her as if he had known her for years.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, it is as you say, sir. He does smoke something terrible. All day and sometimes all night, sir. I've seen that room of a morning -- well, sir, you'd have thought it was a London fog. Poor young Mr. Smith, he was a smoker also, but not as bad as the Professor. His health -- well, I don't know that it's better nor worse for the smoking."
"Ah!" said Holmes, "but it kills the appetite."
"Well, I don't know about that, sir."
"I suppose the Professor eats hardly anything?"
"Well, he is variable. I'll say that for him."
"I'll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won't face his lunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume."
"Well, you're out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkable big breakfast this morning. I don't know when I've known him make a better one, and he's ordered a good dish of cutlets for his lunch. I'm surprised myself, for since I came into that room yesterday and saw young Mr. Smith lying there on the floor I couldn't bear to look at food. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the Professor hasn't let it take his appetite away."
We loitered the morning away in the garden. Stanley Hopkins had gone down to the village to look into some rumours of a strange woman who had been seen by some children on the Chatham Road the previous morning. As to my friend, all his usual energy seemed to have deserted him. I had never known him handle a case in such a half-hearted fashion. Even the news brought back by Hopkins that he had found the children and that they had undoubtedly seen a woman exactly corresponding with Holmes's description, and wearing either spectacles or eye-glasses, failed to rouse any sign of keen interest. He was more attentive when Susan, who waited upon us at lunch, volunteered the information that she believed Mr. Smith had been out for a walk yesterday morning, and that he had only returned half an hour before the tragedy occurred. I could not myself see the bearing of this incident, but I clearly perceived that Holmes was weaving it into the general scheme which he had formed in his brain. Suddenly he sprang from his chair and glanced at his watch. "Two o'clock, gentlemen," said he. "We must go up and have it out with our friend the Professor."
The old man had just finished his lunch, and certainly his empty dish bore evidence to the good appetite with which his housekeeper had credited him. He was, indeed, a weird figure as he turned his white mane and his glowing eyes towards us. The eternal cigarette smouldered in his mouth. He had been dressed and was seated in an arm-chair by the fire.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you solved this mystery yet?" He shoved the large tin of cigarettes which stood on a table beside him towards my companion. Holmes stretched out his hand at the same moment, and between them they tipped the box over the edge. For a minute or two we were all on our knees retrieving stray cigarettes from impossible places. When we rose again I observed that Holmes's eyes were shining and his cheeks tinged with colour. Only at a crisis have I seen those battle-signals flying.
"Yes," said he, "I have solved it."
Stanley Hopkins and I stared in amazement. Something like a sneer quivered over the gaunt features of the old Professor.
"Indeed! In the garden?"
"No, here."
"Here! When?"
"This instant."
"You are surely joking, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You compel me to tell you that this is too serious a matter to be treated in such a fashion."
"I have forged and tested every link of my chain, Professor Coram, and I am sure that it is sound. What your motives are or what exact part you play in this strange business I am not yet able to say. In a few minutes I shall probably hear it from your own lips. Meanwhile I will reconstruct what is past for your benefit, so that you may know the information which I still require.
"A lady yesterday entered your study. She came with the intention of possessing herself of certain documents which were in your bureau. She had a key of her own. I have had an opportunity of examining yours, and I do not find that slight discolouration which the scratch made upon the varnish would have produced. You were not an accessory, therefore, and she came, so far as I can read the evidence, without your knowledge to rob you."
The Professor blew a cloud from his lips. "This is most interesting and instructive," said he. "Have you no more to add? Surely, having traced this lady so far, you can also say what has become of her."
"I will endeavour to do so. In the first place she was seized by your secretary, and stabbed him in order to escape. This catastrophe I am inclined to regard as an unhappy accident, for I am convinced that the lady had no intention of inflicting so grievous an injury. An assassin does not come unarmed. Horrified by what she had done she rushed wildly away from the scene of the tragedy. Unfortunately for her she had lost her glasses in the scuffle, and as she was extremely short-sighted she was really helpless without them. She ran down a corridor, which she imagined to be that by which she had come -- both were lined with cocoanut matting -- and it was only when it was too late that she understood that she had taken the wrong passage and that her retreat was cut off behind her. What was she to do? She could not go back. She could not remain where she was. She must go on. She went on. She mounted a stair, pushed open a door, and found herself in your room."
The old man sat with his mouth open staring wildly at Holmes. Amazement and fear were stamped upon his expressive features. Now, with an effort, he shrugged his shoulders and burst into insincere laughter.
"All very fine, Mr. Holmes," said he. "But there is one little flaw in your splendid theory. I was myself in my room, and I never left it during the day."
"I am aware of that, Professor Coram."
"And you mean to say that I could lie upon that bed and not be aware that a woman had entered my room?"
"I never said so. You WERE aware of it. You spoke with her. You recognised her. You aided her to escape."
Again the Professor burst into high-keyed laughter. He had risen to his feet and his eyes glowed like embers.
"You are mad!" he cried. "You are talking insanely. I helped her to escape? Where is she now?"
"She is there," said Holmes, and he pointed to a high bookcase in the corner of the room.
I saw the old man throw up his arms, a terrible convulsion passed over his grim face, and he fell back in his chair. At the same instant the bookcase at which Holmes pointed swung round upon a hinge, and a woman rushed out into the room. "You are right!" she cried, in a strange foreign voice. "You are right! I am here."
She was brown with the dust and draped with the cobwebs which had come from the walls of her hiding-place. Her face, too, was streaked with grime, and at the best she could never have been handsome, for she had the exact physical characteristics which Holmes had divined, with, in addition, a long and obstinate chin. What with her natural blindness, and what with the change from dark to light, she stood as one dazed, blinking about her to see where and who we were. And yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, there was a certain nobility in the woman's bearing, a gallantry in the defiant chin and in the upraised head, which compelled something of respect and admiration. Stanley Hopkins had laid his hand upon her arm and claimed her as his prisoner, but she waved him aside gently, and yet with an overmastering dignity which compelled obedience. The old man lay back in his chair, with a twitching face, and stared at her with brooding eyes.
"Yes, sir, I am your prisoner," she said. "From where I stood I could hear everything, and I know that you have learned the truth. I confess it all. It was I who killed the young man. But you are right, you who say it was an accident. I did not even know that it was a knife which I held in my hand, for in my despair I snatched anything from the table and struck at him to make him let me go. It is the truth that I tell."
"Madam," said Holmes, "I am sure that it is the truth. I fear that you are far from well."
She had turned a dreadful colour, the more ghastly under the dark dust-streaks upon her face. She seated herself on the side of the bed; then she resumed.
"I have only a little time here," she said, "but I would have you to know the whole truth. I am this man's wife. He is not an Englishman. He is a Russian. His name I will not tell."
For the first time the old man stirred. "God bless you, Anna!" he cried. "God bless you!"
She cast a look of the deepest disdain in his direction. "Why should you cling so hard to that wretched life of yours, Sergius?" said she. "It has done harm to many and good to none -- not even to yourself. However, it is not for me to cause the frail thread to be snapped before God's time. I have enough already upon my soul since I crossed the threshold of this cursed house. But I must speak or I shall be too late.
"I have said, gentlemen, that I am this man's wife. He was fifty and I a foolish girl of twenty when we married. It was in a city of Russia, a University -- I will not name the place."
"God bless you, Anna!" murmured the old man again.
"We were reformers -- revolutionists -- Nihilists, you understand. He and I and many more. Then there came a time of trouble, a police officer was killed, many were arrested, evidence was wanted, and in order to save his own life and to earn a great reward my husband betrayed his own wife and his companions. Yes, we were all arrested upon his confession. Some of us found our way to the gallows and some to Siberia. I was among these last, but my term was not for life. My husband came to England with his ill-gotten gains, and has lived in quiet ever since, knowing well that if the Brotherhood knew where he was not a week would pass before justice would be done."
The old man reached out a trembling hand and helped himself to a cigarette. "I am in your hands, Anna," said he. "You were always good to me."
"I have not yet told you the height of his villainy," said she. "Among our comrades of the Order there was one who was the friend of my heart. He was noble, unselfish, loving -- all that my husband was not. He hated violence. We were all guilty -- if that is guilt -- but he was not. He wrote for ever dissuading us from such a course. These letters would have saved him. So would my diary, in which from day to day I had entered both my feelings towards him and the view which each of us had taken. My husband found and kept both diary and letters. He hid them, and he tried hard to swear away the young man's life. In this he failed, but Alexis was sent a convict to Siberia, where now, at this moment, he works in a salt mine. Think of that, you villain, you villain; now, now, at this very moment, Alexis, a man whose name you are not worthy to speak, works and lives like a slave, and yet I have your life in my hands and I let you go."
"You were always a noble woman, Anna," said the old man, puffing at his cigarette.
She had risen, but she fell back again with a little cry of pain.
"I must finish," she said. "When my term was over I set myself to get the diary and letters which, if sent to the Russian Government, would procure my friend's release. I knew that my husband had come to England. After months of searching I discovered where he was. I knew that he still had the diary, for when I was in Siberia I had a letter from him once reproaching me and quoting some passages from its pages. Yet I was sure that with his revengeful nature he would never give it to me of his own free will. I must get it for myself. With this object I engaged an agent from a private detective firm, who entered my husband's house as secretary -- it was your second secretary, Sergius, the one who left you so hurriedly. He found that papers were kept in the cupboard, and he got an impression of the key. He would not go farther. He furnished me with a plan of the house, and he told me that in the forenoon the study was always empty, as the secretary was employed up here. So at last I took my courage in both hands and I came down to get the papers for myself. I succeeded, but at what a cost!
"I had just taken the papers and was locking the cupboard when the young man seized me. I had seen him already that morning. He had met me in the road and I had asked him to tell me where Professor Coram lived, not knowing that he was in his employ."
"Exactly! exactly!" said Holmes. "The secretary came back and told his employer of the woman he had met. Then in his last breath he tried to send a message that it was she -- the she whom he had just discussed with him."
"You must let me speak," said the woman, in an imperative voice, and her face contracted as if in pain. "When he had fallen I rushed from the room, chose the wrong door, and found myself in my husband's room. He spoke of giving me up. I showed him that if he did so his life was in my hands. If he gave me to the law I could give him to the Brotherhood. It was not that I wished to live for my own sake, but it was that I desired to accomplish my purpose. He knew that I would do what I said -- that his own fate was involved in mine. For that reason and for no other he shielded me. He thrust me into that dark hiding-place, a relic of old days, known only to himself. He took his meals in his own room, and so was able to give me part of his food. It was agreed that when the police left the house I should slip away by night and come back no more. But in some way you have read our plans." She tore from the bosom of her dress a small packet. "These are my last words," said she; "here is the packet which will save Alexis. I confide it to your honour and to your love of justice. Take it! You will deliver it at the Russian Embassy. Now I have done my duty, and ----"
"Stop her!" cried Holmes. He had bounded across the room and had wrenched a small phial from her hand.
"Too late!" she said, sinking back on the bed. "Too late! I took the poison before I left my hiding-place. My head swims! I am going! I charge you, sir, to remember the packet."
"A simple case, and yet in some ways an instructive one," Holmes remarked, as we travelled back to town. "It hinged from the outset upon the pince-nez. But for the fortunate chance of the dying man having seized these I am not sure that we could ever have reached our solution. It was clear to me from the strength of the glasses that the wearer must have been very blind and helpless when deprived of them. When you asked me to believe that she walked along a narrow strip of grass without once making a false step I remarked, as you may remember, that it was a noteworthy performance. In my mind I set it down as an impossible performance, save in the unlikely case that she had a second pair of glasses. I was forced, therefore, to seriously consider the hypothesis that she had remained within the house. On perceiving the similarity of the two corridors it became clear that she might very easily have made such a mistake, and in that case it was evident that she must have entered the Professor's room. I was keenly on the alert, therefore, for whatever would bear out this supposition, and I examined the room narrowly for anything in the shape of a hiding-place. The carpet seemed continuous and firmly nailed, so I dismissed the idea of a trap-door. There might well be a recess behind the books. As you are aware, such devices are common in old libraries. I observed that books were piled on the floor at all other points, but that one bookcase was left clear. This, then, might be the door. I could see no marks to guide me, but the carpet was of a dun colour, which lends itself very well to examination. I therefore smoked a great number of those excellent cigarettes, and I dropped the ash all over the space in front of the suspected bookcase. It was a simple trick, but exceedingly effective. I then went downstairs and I ascertained, in your presence, Watson, without your perceiving the drift of my remarks, that Professor Coram's consumption of food had increased -- as one would expect when he is supplying a second person. We then ascended to the room again, when, by upsetting the cigarette-box, I obtained a very excellent view of the floor, and was able to see quite clearly, from the traces upon the cigarette ash, that the prisoner had, in our absence, come out from her retreat. Well, Hopkins, here we are at Charing Cross, and I congratulate you on having brought your case to a successful conclusion. You are going to head-quarters, no doubt. I think, Watson, you and I will drive together to the Russian Embassy."
|
|
|
|