Isa Whitney was the brother of the late Elias Whitney, dean of the Divinity School at St. George's University. According to my understanding, he contracted opium as a result of a foolish idea in college.

He was addicted to drugs and could not extricate himself. Just because he read a book by De Quincey and saw the description of dreams and passion in it, he tried it out of curiosity, soaked tobacco in laudanum, and then took it

He smoked it to see if he could get the same effect as in the book. Like most people, he didn’t discover until later that this practice made him addicted so easily, and it was so difficult to quit it. So, for many years

Since then, he has fallen into the abyss of drug abuse and has been unable to extricate himself, making his relatives and friends both disgusted and pitiful towards him. To this day, I can still clearly remember his appearance: a green and yellow face, gloomy eyes, curled up into a

Tuan's body was sitting in a chair, looking depressed.

Just one night in June 1889, just when people started to feel sleepy and couldn't open their eyes, there was a sudden ringing of the doorbell outside the door. I immediately sat up from the chair, and my wife did the same.

With an unpleasant look on his face, he quickly put down his sewing work.

"There are patients again." She said, "It seems you will have to be busy again."

In fact, I had just come back from a busy day and felt very tired, so I sighed, stood up and was about to walk out the door. Then I heard the door open and anxious voices, followed by a burst of rapid running.

There were footsteps on the carpet. Then our door was suddenly pushed open, and a young woman wearing dark woolen clothes and a black veil broke in.

"Doctor, I'm so sorry for bothering you so late!" she said, unable to control herself anymore, she ran to my wife, put her arms around her neck, and started crying on her body.

"Oh! I am so unlucky!" she cried, "I feel so helpless!"

"Ah!" my wife exclaimed in surprise as she lifted her veil, "Kate Whitney, why is it you? You frightened me, Kate! I never expected that the person who came in would be

It's you!"

"I really have no choice but to come to you." It's like this every time. Once anyone encounters something troublesome, they will come to my wife for comfort. They are like birds in the dark night.

Treat my wife as a beacon and come together to find solace.

"We are very happy for your arrival! However, I think you need to drink a little watered down wine to calm yourself down before telling me what happened. Or else, I will let James go and rest first

,what do you think?"

"Oh! No, no! I also need Dr. James' guidance and help! It's Aisa. He hasn't come back for two days. I'm worried about him!"

My wife and I, one as a doctor and the other as her old classmate and good friend, this is not the first time that she has told me about the troubles her husband has caused her. We can only try our best to comfort her. For example, she

Do you know where her husband is now? Can we help him find him?

According to the accurate information she knew, there seemed to be hope, because after his addiction to smoking during this period, he always liked to go to an opium den in the easternmost part of the old city to seek satisfaction. Before today, he would usually come back within a day.

Every time, he seemed to be dying, his body was twitching, and he came home very late. But this time I don’t know if he was possessed by evil spirits. Two days have passed and he still hasn’t come back. At this time, he must be lying in bed.

He was smoking on the cigarette couch with those crooked people on the pier! Or he was sleeping so that the cigarette flakes could fully work in his body and refresh him. She was sure that it would be possible.

She found him there. She also knew the location, which was at the Golden Hotel on Swan Gate Lane, but what could she do? How could a young woman go to such a place to bring back her husband who was fooling around there?

That's what happened, so obviously there was only one way, which was for me to accompany her there. But then I thought about it, there is no need to let her go with me anymore, I also have a doctor from Isa Whitney

As for the consultant's status, based on this relationship, I should still be able to make him listen to me. If I go alone, it may be better to solve the problem. So I promised her that if he is really where she is,

Within two hours I could hire a carriage to take him home to the place mentioned. In less than ten minutes I left my arm-chair and the comfort of my bedroom,

Riding a small buggy heading east. This was a very bizarre trip. Although I was aware of it at the time, it wasn’t until later that I truly realized how bizarre it was.

However, everything went smoothly before I started this bizarre experience. Swan Lock Lane is hidden behind the tall dock buildings on the north bank of the river east of London Bridge. It is a dirty alley. There is a shop selling cheap clothes.

shop and a gin shop, and somewhere between them, near a cave-like opening, I found the opium den I was looking for. I asked the coachman to wait for me there, and then I went along.

I walked down a stairway. The middle part of the stairway made of stones had long been worn out by the feet of the drunkards who came and went. One foot was deeper and the other was shallower when walking.

I saw an erratic oil lamp hanging on the door from a distance. Under the light, I found the door latch, opened the door and went in. It was a deep, low room with a rich tan color.

The smoke of opium smoke filled the whole room. Rows of wooden beds were placed against the wall. It looked like a sailor's cabin under the front deck of an immigration ship. Through the faint light, a group of people scattered about were vaguely visible. They were lying on

They were smoking opium on the wooden bed! They either slumped their shoulders and lowered their heads, or curled up in a ball, or tilted their heads back, or raised their chins high, looking at each other with their dull eyes from all corners.

I am a new guest. There are dark shadows in the room, and from time to time there is a bright or dark glimmer or a red halo. At this time, people are smoking opium cigarettes, and the burning opium emits light in the metal pipe pot.

.Except for a few people who are talking to themselves or in low voices, more people are lying there quietly, and the conversations of those people are also very unique. Some of them talk endlessly and say nothing.

Stop, but they are all talking about their own concerns, not listening to what others say. In the other corner of the room, there is a small charcoal brazier, and the fire in the basin is booming! Next to the basin, a

The thin and tall old man was sitting on a three-legged wooden stool in a daze, with his hands clenched into fists and resting on his cheeks, his lower elbows resting on his knees.

The charcoal fire in the basin said nothing.

As soon as I entered the door, I saw a pale Malay waiter hurriedly walked up to me, handed me a pipe and a piece of tobacco, and asked me to go to an empty wooden bed.

"Thank you, I won't be here long!" I said, "I have a friend here named Isa Whitney, and I came to see him."

At this time, someone moved in the darkness to my right and made a cry. With the faint light, I saw Whitney, and I saw that he looked pale, haggard, disheveled, and his eyes were round.

Look at me with both eyes.

"God! It's Watson!" he said. When he spoke, he looked pitiful, hateful, and nervous. "Hey, Watson, what time is it now?"

"Not even eleven o'clock."

"What day is it 11 o'clock?"

"Friday, June 19th."

"Oh, my God! Why do I always think it's Wednesday! Today is Wednesday, why do you want to scare me?" He lowered his head, buried his face in his arms, and began to cry loudly.

"Let me tell you again, today is Friday. You should feel ashamed. Your wife has been waiting for you at home for two days!"

"Yes! I should be ashamed, but you are wrong. Watson, I have only been here for a few hours. I just smoked three pots or four pots... Oh, I don't remember how many pots I smoked.

But I'm willing to go back with you. I really shouldn't let Kate worry about me, oh, my poor little Kate! Please help me up! Oh, by the way, did you hire a carriage?"

"Of course, I hired one and it's waiting outside!"

"Well, I'll just take the car back! But I must owe someone a debt. Please help me find out how much I owe in total, Watson. I don't have any strength now, and I can't take care of myself at all."

Walking through the narrow aisle between the two rows of wooden beds with people lying on them, I tried to hold my breath because I didn't want to smell the disgusting smell of opium smoke. I searched for the boss for a long time but couldn't find him.

When I walked past the tall man next to the charcoal brazier, I suddenly felt a hand tugging on the skirt of my coat, and someone whispered: "Go forward, and then turn back to look at me."

!" These two sentences were heard very clearly in my ears. When I lowered my head, I found that there could be no one else except the old man next to me. However, he was sitting there as attentively as before! I saw him

He was as skinny as a stick, with wrinkles on his face, his back was hunched, and a cigarette dropped between his knees, as if he was too weak to slide it down. So I took two steps forward, and when I looked back, I couldn't help but be shocked.

Fortunately, I was able to control myself, so I didn't scream. He also slowly turned around, and only I could see him. His body at this time was completely different from before, and his rickety body had stretched out.

, the wrinkles on his face suddenly disappeared, and his eyes that were listless just now suddenly became lively. The person sitting by the charcoal brazier was none other than Sherlock Holmes. At this time, he was facing the surprised

I was grinning! He motioned to me calmly and asked me to come to him. Then he immediately turned around again. When he faced others from the side again, he immediately showed the posture of a trembling old man.

.

"Holmes! How did you come to this place? What do you want to do?"

"Keep your voice down." He replied, "My ears are very sensitive. If you are willing to do me a favor, go and send that opium-smoking friend away. Then I may be willing to tell you something.

.”

"I even hired a carriage outside!"

"Well, let him take the car back by himself! You don't have to worry about him at all now. You must know that he will never have the strength to cause any trouble again. I suggest you write another note and ask the coachman to give it to your wife

Take it with her and tell her that we are together again. You go outside and wait for me for a while. I will come out in 5 minutes."

It is difficult for me to refuse any request made by Sherlock Holmes every time, because he will always make it clearly and in a very tactful manner. In any case, I also feel that as long as Whitney gets on the carriage, I will

In other words, I have completed my mission. Then of course I will be happy to go on an extraordinary adventure with my old friend. Although for him, adventure is a very common thing in life. So, I spent

After spending a few minutes writing the note and helping Whitney pay off the debt, he took him out and got into the car, watching him go away in the dark night. Soon a man walked out of the opium den.

The old man was old and frail, and then we walked to the street together. He kept hunched over, hunched over, and walked tremblingly. After walking two blocks, he took a quick look around him.

, and then he straightened his body and laughed.

"Watson, I guess..." he said: "From your doctor's point of view, you must think that in addition to injecting cocaine and other minor problems that you have no objection to, I have added another bad habit!

"

"I must have been very surprised to see you in that place!"

"But I was more surprised to see you there than you were!"

"I went there to find a friend."

"Then I went there to find an enemy."

"enemy?"

"Yes, it is my natural enemy. It can also be said to be what I call a bag. Simply put, Watson, what I am conducting is an extraordinary investigation. I hope that based on

The nonsense of those big smokers to find the clue I want is the same as what I did before. If I were found out by the people in the opium den, I might be dead in the blink of an eye. Once because of personal reasons

, I went there before to do a survey, and the bastard Indian Asan who opened the opium shop wanted to take revenge on me for this! There is a movable wooden door, which is on the corner near Paul's Pier, which is the house

The back of it, it can tell you some weird stories about things that go by there at night.”

"What! You're not talking about some dead bodies, are you?"

"Oh, that's them, Watson. We'd make a fortune if we could get a thousand pounds from all the wretches killed by that opium den, which is the most treacherous place along the river.

A place of death. Although I am a little worried about Neville St. Clair, fearing that he will never come back, we must set a trap here." He sucked two index fingers with his mouth and blew a sharp whistle.

The same whistle sounded in the distance, and soon there was the sound of wheels and the clatter of horse hooves.

At this time, a high-end two-wheeled single-seater carriage drove out from the darkness. The chandeliers on both sides of the carriage cast two yellow lights. "Okay, Watson!" said Holmes, "will you come with me?

ah?"

"As long as I can help you."

"Ah ha, it's the old man who can help me at critical moments! Of course, for someone with a good memory, that's not to mention. I happen to have two beds in my room in Shanyuan."

"Fir Garden?"

"Yes, that is Mr. St. Clair's residence. I will stay there to conduct investigations."

"Then where is it?"

"It's in Kent County, very close to Lee Town. It takes about 20 miles to get there."

"I don't know anything about your case until now!"

"Of course, but you'll find out later. Get in the car! Well, John, I won't bother you any more. Here, here is half a crown (an old British 5-shilling coin with a crown). It will be about 11 o'clock tomorrow

Zhong Zuo is still waiting for me here. Okay, let’s go, see you later!”

He lightly whipped the horse's back, and the carriage started galloping. After passing through dark and deserted streets, the road gradually widened, and then passed a dark small river. From the river, there were buildings on both sides.

We passed through the bridge with railings, and then passed through a desolate place full of rubble. It was deserted here, and we could only hear the heavy and regular footsteps of the patrolmen, and occasionally some people who didn't return in the middle of the night could be heard.

, the promiscuous singing of drunken people on the road, they will temporarily break the silence of no one. Three or two scattered clouds drift slowly in the sky, and a few stars flicker in and out of the clouds, making stars dotted.

The bright light. Holmes has been silent, only focusing on driving. He lowered his head, as if a monk had entered meditation. Sitting next to him, I was puzzled. What kind of case is this new case? It can actually make him

So troublesome. Although he had many questions, he did not dare to interrupt his thinking. After walking for several miles, we drove to the entrance of a villa area in the suburbs. It was only then that he shook his body, shrugged his shoulders, and

The pipe was lit and he immediately looked very proud.

"Watson, you are so calm and able to remain silent all the time." He said, "This makes you a rare friend. I dare say you must be like this. But for me, I

I attach great importance to interacting with others, because I cannot guarantee that my ideas will completely satisfy others. When the lovely young woman came to greet me at the door tonight, I really didn't know what to say to her."

"You should know, I don't know anything!"

"Fortunately, we have just enough time before we arrive in Li Town to introduce you to the facts of this case. This case seems very simple, but it makes me confused. Although there are many obvious clues, I don't know where to start.

Where to start? Well, let me briefly introduce this case to you! Watson, maybe you can make me see a glimmer of light in the darkness before my eyes!"

"Okay, just say it!"

A few years ago, or more accurately, it should be in May of 1884. A gentleman named Neville St. Clair came to Lee Town. Mr. St. Clair was 37 years old and had no bad habits or hobbies.

You can tell that a person is rich by looking at him. As soon as he arrived here, he bought a large villa with beautifully decorated front and back yards, and lived a very luxurious life. He slowly became friends with his neighbors and became friends.

In 1887, he married the daughter of a local brewer and gave birth to two children for him. Although he did not work, he invested in several companies. He would go to the city every morning and then go to the city.

We took the 5:14 pm train back from Cannon Street. Mr. St. Clair can be said to be a model of a loving father and a good husband, and he is also very popular. One more thing to say, so far, according to our investigation, all his debts

The total amount was 88 pounds 10 shillings, and he had 220 pounds in the Capital County Bank, so it was obvious that he would not be troubled by financial problems.

Last Monday, Mr. St. Clair entered the city much earlier than usual. Before setting off, he had said that he would do two important things today, and promised his youngest son to bring him a box of building blocks. Coincidentally,

On that day, as soon as he went out, a telegram was delivered to his wife. The telegram said that a valuable small parcel had been sent to the Aberdeen Transport Company office and was waiting for her to pick it up.

Just what she has been waiting for. Well, I think if you know the streets of London better, you will know that the company's office is on Fresno Street. On that street, a branch road leads exactly to where we met today.

The place was Swan Gate Lane. So, Mrs. St. Clair went into town as soon as she finished lunch, bought some things in the store, went straight to the company office, took out the package there, and then prepared to return to the station. After passing

It's exactly 4:35 pm on Swan Gate Lane. Do you understand?

"I can totally understand it!"

If you stretch your memory a little longer, do you still remember? On Monday, the weather was extremely hot. Mrs. St. Clair walked very slowly, looking around, hoping to hire a pony carriage. Because she noticed that the people around her

The streets were so annoying. As she walked and stopped, passing by Swan Gate Lane, a sound like crying suddenly reached her ears, and she unexpectedly saw her husband. At this time

He was looking down at her from the third-floor window, as if waving to her from a distance, and she was almost petrified. Because it was an open window, and her husband's face looked like hers at the time.

She could see it very clearly. According to her description, he looked very scary and excited at the time. He was waving to her desperately, but suddenly he disappeared, as if there was something mysterious behind him that pulled him back.

.And with a woman's sensitivity, she suddenly discovered an anomaly on her husband, that is, the clothes he wore had changed from when he went to the city. Although the coat was still the same black top he wore when he went to the city, the shape of his neck was

The stiff collar and chest tie were gone.

She was sure that something had happened to him, so she hurriedly ran down the steps and went straight to the front room of the house, which was actually the opium den where you found me tonight. Just as she was passing through the house, she wanted to go in.

As she was going up the stairs to the second floor, she was stopped at the top of the stairs by the Indian I mentioned. He pushed her back. Then a Danish helper came over and pushed her to the street.

At this time, she was even more filled with doubts and panic, and hurriedly ran out along the alley. Fortunately, she met the head of a patrol officer and two patrol officers who were about to go on duty on the streets of Fresno. She asked

After they explained the reason for asking for help, the boss and the two patrolmen ran back with her. Regardless of the opium shop owner's repeated obstructions, they rushed into the room where Mr. St. Clair was just found. However, in that room

They found no trace of Mr. St. Clair's stay there. In fact, there was only a cripple with a ferocious face, and he seemed to live there. Apart from him, no one was seen on the entire floor, and

The lame man and the Indian repeatedly assured that they had not seen anyone in the front room on that floor that afternoon. Their vehement denials left the patrol chief at a loss, and he almost thought it was Mrs. St. Clair who was watching.

Wrong person. At this moment, she screamed suddenly and rushed to a small pine box on the table. She opened the lid of the box, and with a crash, a lot of children's building blocks were poured out.

And this is exactly the building block toy he promised to buy for his son.

Her discovery not only made the lame man panic, but also made the patrol leader realize the seriousness of the situation because of the lame man's panic. They carefully searched every room and found that all the facts showed that this was related to something abominable.

Criminal behavior. The front room on this floor is relatively simple in furnishings and is used as a large bedroom. This room is connected to a small bedroom. Looking out from the small bedroom, you can see a section of the pier opposite it, but it is a pier.

Back. Between the pier and the window of the small bedroom, there is a long and narrow area, which is dry after low tide, but becomes a river area with a depth of more than 1.25 meters when the tide rises. The window of the bedroom is relatively spacious and opens below. At the back.

When this room was searched, a few drops of blood were found on the window frame and on the floor of the bedroom. There was a curtain in the front room, and when it was drawn back, it was discovered that, except for the coat, Mr. St. Clair's complete set of clothes, including

Boots, socks, hats and watches were all there, but judging from the clothing, there was no flaw or sign of violence. Mr. St. Clair was also missing. It was obvious that there was no one else in the room.

The only way out was to escape through the window. Judging from the terrible blood stains left on the window frame, there was not much possibility of escaping by swimming, because when the tragedy happened, it was at the peak of the high tide.

Let’s introduce the criminal suspects who are directly related to this case! The Indian Asan mentioned earlier is notorious. But according to Mrs. St. Clair, it had only been a few seconds since her husband appeared at the window.

She saw Ah San at the top of the stairs. From this point of view, he was at best an accomplice in this case. He himself had always defended himself by saying that he knew nothing about everything that happened, and emphasized that he was not aware of anything that happened.

The behavior of Hugh Boone, the resident upstairs, was also unknown. As for how the clothes of the missing gentleman appeared in that house, he could not tell the truth.

The above is the general situation of Indian Asan, the owner of the opium shop. In this way, the last person who saw Mr. St. Clair with his own eyes should be the sinister cripple who lives on the third floor. His name is Hugh Boone, and he has an ugly face.

He is well-known in the Old Town of London. His occupation is begging, but in order to evade the city management, he disguised himself as a match vendor. You may have noticed that he lives in a corner on the left near Threadneedle Street every day.

He would sit there cross-legged all day and night, with a few boxes of matches on his knees. Because his appearance gave people a very unfortunate look, a greasy leather hat next to him was often full of passers-by.

The change given to him. In fact, I had observed him countless times before I realized that I wanted to investigate his life as a beggar. But after investigation and understanding, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for his begging situation.

I was surprised because he gained so much in such a short period of time. I think this should be due to his unusual appearance: a messy red hair, a pale face that looked even more ugly because of a horrible scar.

, especially the scar. If it shrinks slightly, it will cause the lips to turn upward; a pair of lower jaw like a pug, coupled with a pair of sharp black eyes like an eagle that correspond to his red hair, this

Everything makes him different from ordinary beggars. So everyone who passes by him must take a look at him. More importantly, it is obvious that he is a very smart person, because no matter what random things passers-by give him,

He will always say good things to you. We now know this person, he is the person who rents the opium den, and he should be the last person to see the gentleman we are looking for.

"But he is just a cripple!" I said, "What can he do to a man in his prime by himself?"

"If you just look at the way he walks with a limp, he should be classified as a disabled person. However, from other aspects, it is obvious that he is very strong and has a good life. Watson, according to you

Doctors should know from experience that if one part of a person's body is not flexible enough, it will often make up for it by making other parts of the limb stronger."

"Please continue."

At that time, as soon as the blood stains on the window frame appeared in front of Mrs. St. Clair, she fainted and was driven home by a patrol officer. After all, she would not be of much use if she stayed there. Officer Barton began to comprehensively

Taking charge of the case, he carefully searched all the houses, but found nothing. At that time, he made a mistake, that is, not arresting Hugh Boone immediately, which may have given him the opportunity to collude with his Indian friend. But still

Well, this mistake did not continue and was corrected in time. He was quickly arrested and searched, but nothing suspicious was found on him. Yes, there was something on the right sleeve of his T-shirt.

There was blood, but he told the police that the blood came from the fourth finger of his left hand near the nail because it was cut, and he also told the police that just a moment ago, he had walked to the window because

, so the blood stains on the window frame were also left by him. He refused to admit that he had ever seen Mr. St. Clair, and bet the police that he was as baffled by the clothes that appeared in his room as they were by Mrs. St. Clair.

When she saw her husband appear at the window, he decided that she was talking nonsense or dreaming. Although he yelled in protest, he was later taken to the police station, while the police officer stayed behind.

Waiting in that house for the tide to recede to see if any new clues can be found.

Fortunately, he actually found something on the mudflat, but it was not Neville St. Clair himself, who they were afraid of, but his jacket, which was lying alone on the mudflat after the tide went out.

UP. Can you guess what they found in their pockets?

"I can't guess."

"That's right, I guess you can't guess it. All the pockets of that coat were actually found to be filled with pennies and half-pence - a total of 421 pennies and 270 half-pence. This should be the reason why the coat was not used.

The reason why the tide swept away it! And the human body is different. When the tide in that place recedes, the water is very fierce. According to the situation at the scene, it is very likely that this is the case: the body was swept into the river by the tide.

, but this heavy top remains.”

"But is he only wearing a coat? Because as far as I know, all the other clothes are in that room!"

"No, sir, but perhaps there is another possibility. If it was Boone who pushed Neville St. Clair out of the window, and no one saw it but him, then he would have continued

What action should be taken? He should immediately think of destroying the clothes that represent evidence. When he picked up the clothes and was about to throw them out the window, he would immediately think of something: the top would float up with the water.

Time was running out at that time, because the noise of the lady trying to force her way upstairs could already be heard downstairs. Then his Indian accomplices may have told him that several patrol policemen were coming. Apparently at this time

Without any further delay, he quickly ran to the place where his begging money was hidden and stuffed his pockets as full as possible with the coins he saw, so that his coat would not float up.

After throwing away this top, he originally planned to follow this method to dispose of other clothes, but at this time, there were hurried footsteps from downstairs. Maybe the patrolman had already gone upstairs, so he could only take care of it.

Close that window."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Okay, let's just assume it's true for now. This hypothesis seems to be the best so far. As I said before, Hugh Boone was arrested and taken to the police station, but no one could be found.

Evidence of his past crimes. For so many years, everyone has known that he is a beggar, and he should live an ordinary life without fighting against the world. Now this case has reached a deadlock, and all problems cannot be solved. For example

:How could Neville St. Clair be in the opium den at that time? What happened to him while he was there? Where are his people now? Does his disappearance have anything to do with Hugh Boone? I admit, according to my

In my past experience, it seems that there has never been a case like this one, which seems simple but actually has many difficulties."

While listening to Sherlock Holmes narrate this series of strange things, our carriage drove quickly through the suburbs of this big city, leaving the scattered houses behind us one by one, and then passed through the hedged countryside.

The road was on. As we passed between two sparse villages, a few faint lights leaked from a few windows. By this time, he had already finished briefly explaining what had happened.

"Well, we have arrived at the suburbs of Lee Town." My friend said: "Although the journey is not long, it passes through three counties in England, first Middlesex, then Surrey, and finally

Kent. Did you see that light in the trees? The fir garden is there. There must be a woman sitting under that light, waiting for our arrival with worry. She must have heard the hoofbeats of our horses.

Sounded."

"But why don't you take up this case in Baker Street?" "Because there are a lot of things to investigate here. Don't worry, my friend and helper will be very welcome to Mrs. St. Clair, and she has made arrangements very thoughtfully.

A room is at my disposal. Watson, I'm a little embarrassed to see her now, because I haven't been able to find out the exact information about her husband yet. Well, here we are."

Our car stopped in front of a large villa, which was a villa located in the garden. A stable boy ran over and helped us hold the horse's head. Holmes and I jumped out of the car and walked along a road.

We walked up the winding gravel road leading to the villa. As soon as we reached the door of the building, the door opened, and a little woman with blond hair and fair skin stood at the door. She was seen wearing a light-colored dress.

She is wearing a dress made of colored gauze, with a little pink fluffy and transparent silk gauze trim at the neckline and wrists. Under the light of the night light, she stands tall and graceful, with one hand holding the door and the other hand slightly

She raised her head and looked very enthusiastic. At the same time, she could see the anxious look of wanting to know the result from her slightly bent body, leaning her head forward, her longing eyes and her hesitant lips.

"Oh?" she shouted, "Is there any news?" After a pause, she saw that we were two people. At first, she asked hopefully, but when she saw my partner shaking his head and shrugging, he immediately

It turned into a sad murmur.

"No news at all?"

"No."

"Is there any bad news?"

"nor."

"Oh, thank God! Come in quickly! You must be exhausted from running around all day."

"Introducing Dr. Watson, my friend. He has been of great help to me in several previous cases. I am honored to invite him to cooperate with me in investigating this case this time."

"It's an honor to meet you!" she said, and she warmly stepped forward to shake hands with me. "I hope you can understand our feelings, because we were hit so suddenly, so if there is anything we haven't taken good care of, we still have to worry about it.

Please forgive me!"

"Dear madam!" I said, "please don't be so polite. I was a veteran soldier in the past. As long as I can help you or my old friends, I will be happy."

As we were talking, we had arrived at a brightly lit dining room, and a cold meal had already been set on the table. "Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. St. Clair said at this time, "I especially want to ask you two very direct questions. I hope

Can you tell the truth?"

"No problem, ma'am."

"You don't have to be afraid of affecting my mood. Although I will have extreme emotions and I won't faint, I just want to know your true opinion."

"About which?"

"Tell me the truth, do you think Neville still has hope of living?"

Sherlock Holmes didn't seem to expect that she would ask this question, and he was a little embarrassed for a moment. She repeated the question again: "Tell me the truth, tell me!" She stood on the carpet, looking straight down and leaning up.

My companion in the wicker chair.

"Well, let me tell you the truth, madam, I don't think so."

"Then your opinion is that he is no longer alive?"

"right."

"Did someone kill him?"

"This is not certain, I can only say it is possible."

"When did he die?"

"Monday."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, can you help me analyze why I received his letter today?"

Like an electric shock, Holmes was ejected from his chair.

"What did you say?" he shouted.

"Yes, today is the day." She stood there blankly, holding a letter high in her hand.

"Can you let me see it?"

"certainly."

He grabbed the letter, spread it out on the table, moved the lamp over, and began to observe it attentively. I also left my seat and came over to look at the letter from behind him. Judging from the paper of the envelope, it was rough.

It was stamped with the postmark of Gravesend, and the date it was sent was exactly that day, or to be more precise, it was yesterday, because it was already past midnight.

"The handwriting is rather sloppy," muttered Holmes. "This is definitely not your husband's handwriting, ma'am."

"Yes, but the letter inside was written by him."

"I can also conclude that whoever wrote the envelope needs to ask others for their address."

"Why do you say that?"

"Look at this person's name. It must have been written in black ink and allowed to dry on its own. However, the other words appear gray-black. This is the result of being blotted with blotting paper after writing. If these words

They are written together. If they are all blotted with blotting paper, there will be no problem of different shades of characters. This person must have written the name first and then paused for a while before writing the address. In this way, you can judge

, he did this because he was not familiar with the address. This is undoubtedly a very small thing, but although it is small, it is more important. Okay, let's take a look at the letter inside again. Oh! There is something else in my heart.

!”

"Yes, it's one of his signet rings."

"Are you sure this must be your husband's handwriting?"

"It's one of his handwritings."

"A sort of?"

"This kind of handwriting was written in a hurry. Although it is different from his usual handwriting, I can still recognize it."

Honey:

Don't worry, everything will pass. It's here, mistakes have been made, and it may take time to correct them. Please be patient.

Neville

"This letter was written on the title page of an octavo book, and it was written in pencil. There is no trace of water on the paper. Well, the thumb of the person who sent the letter is still very dirty. He came from Greve that day.

Sent by Sende. Aha! The mouth of the envelope is still glued. The person who wrote the letter may have been chewing tobacco at the time, if my estimate is accurate. Madam, can you really be sure that this is you?

Husband’s handwriting?”

"I can confirm this, it's Neville's handwriting."

"This letter was sent from Gravesend that same day. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, I think the clouds have parted, although I am not yet sure that the danger has passed."

"But he is certainly alive, isn't he? Mr. Holmes."

"Either it is someone else's forged handwriting, and the imitation is very clever, deliberately misleading us, and the ring doesn't mean anything, because it can be taken off from his hand!"

"No, it's impossible, this is what he wrote in his own hand!"

"That's great, but maybe the letter was written on Monday and not sent until today."

"That's probably true."

"If this is the case, many accidents may happen during this period!"

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, please don't hit me again. I know he will be fine. There is a kind of telepathy between the two of us. Once he encounters any accident, I should be able to sense it. For example, when he

On the last day he left home, he accidentally cut his hand while he was in the bedroom. I was in the kitchen at the time, and I immediately sensed that something was wrong with him, so I hurried upstairs to see what was going on. This is what happened.

.I can have such a reaction to such a small thing. If something happened to him, how could I not feel it at all?"

"I have been through enough to know that a woman's telepathy can sometimes be more useful than the judgment of a person who is good at analysis and reasoning. This letter does give you a very strong evidence to help you determine your

But if your husband is safe and sound and can still write letters, why would he rather be outside than come back?"

"I can't understand this either. It's a bit unpredictable."

"Did he say anything to you when he left home on Monday?"

"Didn't say anything."

"Were you shocked when you saw him in Swan Gate Lane?"

"Extremely shocking."

"Was the window open at the time?"

"right."

"Then he should still be able to call you then?"

"good."

"According to what I know, he could only make inarticulate sounds."

"Yes."

"Do you think that was a cry for help?"

"Yes, he even waved at me!"

"But is it possible that the cry was out of surprise? When he saw you unexpectedly, he might have waved to you out of surprise, right?"

"Well, it's possible."

"Do you think he was dragged back by force?"

"Yes, he suddenly disappeared at that time."

"It's also possible that he jumped up and then fell back to the ground. Did you see anyone else in the room at that time?"

"I didn't see it, but the vicious man once told us that he was in the house at the time, and that Indian Asan was under the stairs."

"Yes, that's right. According to what you saw, your husband was wearing the clothes he usually wears?"

"Yes, but I didn't see the stiff collar or tie. I could see clearly at the time that my neck was exposed."

"Has he told you about Swan Gate Lane before?"

"there has never been."

"Has he ever smoked opium?"

"Never."

"Okay, thank you, Mrs. St. Clair! I have understood the main points clearly. Let's start having dinner and then go to rest. You have to know that there is still a day's work waiting for us tomorrow!"

It was a large and comfortable house, with two beds for us to rest in. I quickly got into bed, feeling too tired after a night's journey. But that was not the case with Sherlock Holmes.

As far as I know, as long as there is something unresolved in his heart, he will think about it over and over again for days or even a week. He will sort out the information he has.

, analyze this problem from different angles, and don’t give up until you get it all clear, or you can only stop temporarily when you confirm that the information you have is not sufficient, so tonight is like this, I will soon understand

, he was going to stay up all night again. After he put on a large blue pajamas, he began to rummage around the house, gathering together the pillows on his bed, the cushions on the sofa and armchairs, and

They were integrated into an oriental-style sofa, and then placed in front of them one or two pieces of particularly strong tobacco and a box of matches, sitting cross-legged on it, in the dim light, holding an old pipe carved from a heather root in his mouth.

A pair of eyes stared at a spot on the ceiling, and he began to be in a daze. A stream of blue smoke slowly rose from his mouth, and he sat there, motionless and making no sound. The light shone on his face.

, showing a firmness like a hawk, he just sat there, but I fell asleep unknowingly. I woke up in the middle of the night screaming from my dream, and found that he was still sitting there. When I opened my eyes,

I found that the summer sunshine had already shone into the house, and he was sitting on the side with the pipe in his mouth, smoking non-stop. The whole room was filled with choking smoke, and the man I saw last night

The pile of tobacco in front of me has long since disappeared.

"Awake? Watson?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Would you like to catch the car and go out to play in the morning?" "Okay!"

"Well, put on your clothes! Everyone hasn't gotten up yet, but I know where the little stable boy sleeps. We can find a way to get the carriage." As he said this, he chuckled, and the two of them laughed.

His eyes were shining, as if he was a different person from last night.

While I was getting dressed, I took a look at my watch and saw that it was only 4:25. No wonder no one had gotten up yet! As soon as I finished getting dressed, Holmes came back and told me that the stable boy was preparing the carriage.

"I want to test a little theory of mine." He said as he put on his boots: "Watson, you know what? At this time, you are facing the biggest fool in Europe! I deserve to be killed. I'll go from here to Charing Cross! But now I should have found the key to solving the case."

"Where is it?" I asked with a smile.

"It's in the bathroom." He replied, "Oh, I'm serious." Seeing my dubious look, he said quickly. "I've just been there and I've put it in a soft bag. , this is made by Gladstone! Come on, man, let's see if this key can fit in that lock."

We quietly went downstairs, and when we came out, we were bathed in the bright morning light. The carriage was already hitched and parked on the side of the road. A disheveled stable boy was waiting for us next to the horse's head. We stepped onto the carriage. , and immediately drove away along the London Avenue. On the road, I saw several large cars coming from the countryside, filled with vegetables, and were about to enter the city, but the rows of villas on both sides of the road were still sleeping, and they were dead. scene.

"From certain indications, this is a strange case," said Holmes, as he spurred his horse forward with a whip. "I must admit that I was as blind as a mole at first, but now I finally learn how to do it. A little smarter."

As we drove through the streets around Surrey, the twilight was shining on the sleepy eyes of the earliest risers in the city. The carriage passed Waterloo Bridge, passed rapidly through Wellington Street, and then turned sharply to the right and came to Burrow. The police there were all familiar with Holmes. The two patrolmen on duty at the door saluted him. One patrolman held the horse while the other took us inside.

"Who is on duty today?" asked Holmes.

"It's Sergeant Bradstreet, sir."

"Oh! Bradstreet, good morning!" He greeted a tall, strong police officer who was walking down the stone slope. He was wearing a cap and a A jacket with floral buttons. Then Holmes met him and said: "I wish to speak to you alone, Bradstreet."

"No problem, Mr. Holmes, please come back to my room with me and talk!"

This was a small room, similar to an office. A large, thick classified register was placed on the table, and there was a conspicuous telephone on the wall. The inspector sat down at the table.

"How can I help you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I am here for the beggar Hugh Boone, who is accused of having taken part in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair of Lee."

"Yes, he is here, awaiting trial."

"Well, I want to know if he is being held here now?"

"Yes, he is being held in a single cell."

"Did he cause any trouble?"

"Oh, he is very honest, but this guy is too dirty."

"Dirty?"

"Yes, we can only let him wash his hands. His face is darker than a tinker's. Hmm, after the case is decided, we have to let him take a shower in accordance with the prison regulations anyway. I guess You would definitely think so if you met him."

"I would really like to see him."

"You want to see him? That's not a trivial matter. Just come with me. You can put your bag here first."

"No, I think I'd better take it with me!"

"Well, come with me!" Under his guidance, we walked down a corridor. After he helped us open a bolted door, we walked down a spiral staircase together, and finally came to a

There is a corridor with whitewashed walls and a row of cells on both sides of the corridor.

"The third door from the right is his cell," he said, and then he stretched his head and looked inside. "He's not awake yet," he continued, "you can see it very clearly."

The two of us looked in along the fence and saw a prisoner lying facing us, looking like he was sleeping soundly. His breathing was slow and heavy. He looked short and the clothes he wore were consistent with his identity.

It was very matching, made of rough material, and a close-fitting dyed shirt was exposed from the ruins of the tattered top. Indeed, as the police officer said, his body was very dirty. But no matter how much dirt there was, it could not hide the ugliness and disgust on his face.

: From under the eyes to straight on the chin, a wide old scar almost runs through half of the face. Once the scar shrinks, it lifts one side of the upper lip, exposing three teeth, as if it has been howling, two

Her eyes and forehead were covered by a mess of shiny red hair.

"He's a handsome guy, what do you think?" the police officer said.

"Well, it does need to be washed." Holmes said, "I took the initiative to bring something that I think can help him take a bath." As he said this, he opened the soft bag made by Gladstone.

, I took out an extra-large bath sponge from it, and I couldn't help but be shocked.

"Hey! You really know how to joke!" the police officer couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh, if you would do me a big favor and quietly open the cell door, we will soon be able to see his decent appearance."

"Okay, what's the point?" the police officer said, "His appearance can only bring discredit to the Bou Street Detention Center, can't it?" He took out the key and opened the cell door, and we tiptoed into the cell. This guy moved.

He moved, turned sideways, and fell asleep again. Holmes bent down, filled the sponge with water from the jug beside him, and wiped the prisoner's face vigorously a few times.

"Let me make a formal introduction to you," he cried, "this is Mr. Neville St. Clair of Lee, Kent."

It was the first time in my life that I saw such a scene. It was like being peeled off a layer of skin. The rough brown face just now was gone! Along with the terrifying scar that spanned half of the face and the

The disgusting grinning crooked lips disappeared together, and the pile of messy red hair fell off with just a slight tug. Then, a pale, stern-faced man suddenly sat up from the bed.

He was a handsome man with double eyebrows, but his red hair turned into black hair. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, as if he had not yet woken up, and looked around blankly, at a loss. Suddenly, he

When the boy woke up and realized that the truth had been exposed, he couldn't help but let out a scream, threw himself on the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

"My God!" the police officer exclaimed, "It's really him. Isn't he the missing person? I've seen his photo."

The suspect turned around and said nonchalantly as if he was about to die, "So what, may I ask what crime can be charged against me?"

"Charge you with the murder of Neville Saint... Oh, we can only make this case a suicide attempt, and they won't charge you with this crime." The police officer grinned and said, "Humph, I have been a police officer for 27 years.

, it’s finally my turn to receive an award for meritorious service.”

"If I am Neville St Clair, then I am clearly innocent and therefore unlawfully detained."

"Although not guilty, there is a mistake, and it is a big mistake!" Holmes said, "If you had trusted your wife, you should have done a better job."

"My wife is fine, but the key is my children." The suspect murmured, "May God bless them. I don't want to bring shame to them because of what I have done. God! If my business is

How embarrassing it would be if word got out! What should I do?"

Holmes sat close to him on the bed and patted his shoulder kindly.

"If this matter is investigated clearly by the court..." he said, "it will inevitably come to light. But if you can convince the police that this matter is not worth prosecuting you at all, I think it is

There is no need to make the specifics of your case public. I think that as long as Officer Bradstreet records everything you tell us and reports it to the relevant authorities, the case will be closed and there will be no more cases.

It’s time to go through the legal process.”

"God will bless you!" The suspect immediately shouted excitedly. I would rather be imprisoned or even executed than let the children know my secret, because it is my shame.

I would like to tell you only my life experience. My father is a primary school principal in Chesterfield. I have received a good education from my family since I was a child. When I was young, I especially loved traveling and was also very interested in acting.

Later I became a reporter for an evening newspaper in London. One day, the editor-in-chief asked for a set of reports that could reflect the life of beggars in big cities, so I took the initiative to take on this job and provide him with manuscripts in this area. From then on, my career began.

A life of adventure. To collect the information for these manuscripts, I had to dress up as a beggar myself, so my previous experience as an actor came in handy, and my makeup skills were well-known in the past.

Many people backstage knew that I was good at makeup. So, I used the makeup skills I learned to paint my face with oil paint first. Then, in order to arouse enough sympathy from people, I used a piece of flesh-colored adhesive plaster to make a

With realistic scars, one side of his lips curled up, he put on a red wig, and clothes that matched his status as a beggar. He chose a location in the city's business district and pretended to be a match seller, but in fact he was a match seller.

He looked like a beggar. Just like that, I had just worked for a few hours. When I returned home in the evening, I was surprised to find that in this short period of time, I had received 26 shillings and 4 pence in alms.

After I finished writing this report, I didn’t pay much attention to it and soon forgot about it. Until one day, because I endorsed a note on behalf of a friend, something went wrong.

I actually received a summons asking me to pay 25 pounds. I didn’t have that much money at that time, so I was desperate and suddenly remembered this matter. So I asked the creditor to give me a grace period of half a month.

, so that I could raise the money, and then I asked my boss for a few days' leave, then I disguised myself as a beggar and went to the city to beg. After 10 days, I collected the money and

The debt was paid off.

Well, you can imagine, once I realized that I could just put a little paint on my face, put my hat on the floor, and sit there and earn £2 a day, I could go back to my old job without any worries.

After working hard for a week to earn so much money, it is obvious that it is difficult to go back to the past. Which one do you want, self-esteem or money? After a long ideological struggle, I finally decided

Under the temptation of money, I quit my career as a reporter and started my life as a beggar day after day. Every day I sat on the corner of the street I had chosen from the beginning, and with my 'terrible' appearance,

It aroused the sympathy and pity of passers-by, and stuffed my pockets with copper coins. But there was one exception, and that was the owner of the low-class opium shop whose house I rented in Swan Gate Lane. He was the only person who knew my secret.

.Every morning I put on makeup there and appear in front of everyone as a dirty beggar, and then at night I transform into a well-dressed and elegant man. The reason why this Indian Asan is willing to keep my secret is because

I paid him a high rent.

Soon, I found that I became a rich man. Of course, not all beggars can earn an income of 700 pounds a year (which is not enough for my average income) by begging on the streets of London. Mainly because I

I have very good makeup skills and am good at adapting to situations. As my experience increased, my abilities in these two areas continued to improve. Gradually, I became a well-known figure in the city. Every day, all kinds of silver coins flowed like water.

It goes into my pocket. If I don't earn 2 pounds one day, it's because I was very unlucky that day.

As my wealth increased, so did my ambition, so I bought a house in the suburbs, got married, and started a family. No one, not even my favorite wife, ever doubted my true occupation.

She only knew that I was doing business in the city, but she had no idea what I was doing specifically.

Last Monday, after a day of begging, I was changing clothes in the room above the opium den. Unexpectedly, I looked up and saw my wife outside the window. She was standing in the middle of the street looking at me.

I was so frightened. I screamed and quickly covered my face with my arms. Then I immediately ran down to find my best friend, that Indian Asan, and asked him to help me block anyone who came upstairs to look for me.

.I soon heard her voice coming from downstairs, but I knew she wouldn't be able to come up for a while, so I quickly took off my clothes, put on the beggar costume again, and painted my face

paint, and a wig on my head. In this way, even a wife's eyes would be hard to see. Then, I thought that they might search the house, and then my secret would be betrayed by those clothes.

In a hurry, I went to open the window, but because I used too much force, I broke the wound I had made when I was home in the morning. In the past, I would put the money I got from begging in a leather bag, but at that time I

As soon as I took out some of them and stuffed them into my coat pocket, I threw the heavy coat filled with copper coins out of the window and quickly disappeared into the Thames. I also planned to throw away the other clothes, but just

At this time, some police officers rushed up, but I still felt relieved at that time, because I soon discovered that everyone did not recognize me as Mr. Neville St. Clair, but regarded me as a murderer of Mr. Neville St. Clair.

St. Clair suspect arrested.

"I don't know if I have made it clear or if I need to add any explanation. At that time, I decided to keep the makeup look, so I would rather get my face a little dirty. I know my wife

I must have been very anxious, so I took advantage of the policeman's distraction, took off the ring from my hand, entrusted it to the Indian Asan, and hurriedly wrote a few lines, telling her not to worry about me."

"She received the letter only yesterday," said Holmes.

"Oh, my God! It's been so difficult for her this week!" "Because we have been staring at that Indian Asan." Officer Bradstreet said, "I know this better. He knows that if he sends the letter

It was easier to be discovered when he went out, so he may have entrusted the letter to a smoker who was a sailor. Unfortunately, the guy forgot to send it at the time, and it was delayed for a few days."

"It should be so," said Holmes, nodding in agreement: "Well, I think so, but has no one ever prosecuted you for deception?"

"Yes, many times. But you only have to pay a small fine, which is not worth mentioning to me."

"But this matter must end here," Bradstreet said. "If you want the police department to keep your secret, this Hugh Boone must disappear forever."

"I have sworn to God."

"If this is the case, we may not continue to investigate further. However, you have to remember that if it happens again, we will never tolerate it. At that time, we will make all the secrets public. Mr. Holmes

, I have to solemnly express my gratitude to you. You have been of great help to us in solving this case! I am willing to listen to you, how did you find this answer? "
Chapter completed!