The Speckled Band Adventure

On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.

Looking over my notes on the seventy or so cases in which I have studied my friend Sherlock Holmes’s methods over the past eight years, I find many tragic cases, some comic ones, and many that were merely strange. But none were ordinary. Holmes worked more for the love of his art than for wealth. For that reason, he refused to take on any investigation that did not involve the unusual or even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall one stranger than the case involving the well-known Surrey family, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events took place early in my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. I might have written about them sooner, but I made a promise of secrecy at the time. Only last month, the untimely death of the lady to whom I made the promise released me from it. Perhaps it is just as well that the facts should now come to light. I have reason to know that widespread rumors about Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s death make the matter seem even more terrible than the truth.

It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

Early one morning in April 1883, I woke to find Sherlock Holmes standing fully dressed beside my bed. He usually got up late, and the clock on the mantel showed that it was only a quarter past seven. So I blinked up at him in surprise, and perhaps with a little resentment, since I kept regular hours myself.

“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you.”

“I'm very sorry to wake you, Watson,” he said, “but everyone is being woken up this morning. Mrs. Hudson was woken up, then she woke me, and I woke you.”

“What is it, then—a fire?”

“What is it, then? A fire?”

“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance.”

“No, a client. It seems a young lady has arrived in a very agitated state and insists on seeing me. She is waiting in the sitting room. Now, when young ladies wander around the city at this hour and wake sleepy people, I assume they have something very urgent to say. If this turns out to be an interesting case, I am sure you would want to follow it from the beginning. In any case, I thought I should wake you and give you the chance.”

“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”

“My friend, I wouldn't miss it for anything.”

I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered.

Nothing gave me greater pleasure than following Holmes on his investigations. I admired how he solved the problems brought to him. His deductions were as quick as intuition, yet always based on logic. I quickly dressed and was ready within minutes to join my friend downstairs in the sitting-room. A woman dressed in black and wearing a heavy veil had been sitting by the window. She rose as we entered.

“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are shivering.”

“Good morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerfully. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my close friend and associate, Dr. Watson. You can speak as freely in front of him as you can with me. Ah! I’m glad Mrs. Hudson had the good sense to light the fire. Please move closer to it. I’ll order you a cup of hot coffee, because I can see you’re shivering.”

“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested.

“It's not the cold that makes me shiver,” the woman said quietly, moving to another seat as requested.

“What, then?”

“Then what?”

“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances.

“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she spoke. We could see that she was terribly shaken. Her face was drawn and gray, and her restless, frightened eyes were like those of a hunted animal. Her face and figure were those of a thirty-year-old woman. But her hair was streaked with premature gray, and she looked tired and worn. Sherlock Holmes gave her one of his quick, thorough looks.

“You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently, leaning forward and patting her forearm. “I’m sure we’ll soon put things right. I see you came by train this morning.”

“You know me, then?”

“So you know me?”

“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.”

“No, but I can see the return half of a ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early. Yet you had a long ride in a dog-cart over muddy roads before you reached the station.”

The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion.

The woman startled violently and stared at my companion in confusion.

“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver.”

“There’s no mystery, my dear madam,” he said with a smile. “The left sleeve of your jacket has at least seven spots of mud on it. The marks are completely fresh. Only a dog-cart throws up mud like that. And it only happens when you sit on the driver’s left.”

“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she. “I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to—none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful.”

“Whatever your reasons, you are absolutely right,” she said. “I left home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past six, and took the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I cannot bear this strain any longer. I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to except one person who cares for me. But the poor fellow can be of little help. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes, from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped when she was in great need. She gave me your address. Oh, sir, do you think you could help me too? Could you at least shed a little light on the deep darkness surrounding me? I cannot pay you for your services now. But in a month or six weeks I shall be married and in control of my own income. Then, at least, you will find that I am not ungrateful.”

Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted.

Holmes turned to his desk and unlocked it. He took out a small casebook and looked through it.

“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter.”

“Farintosh,” he said. “Ah yes, I remember the case. It involved an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. Madam, I will be happy to give your case the same care I gave your friend’s. As for payment, my profession is its own reward. But you may pay any expenses I incur whenever it suits you best. Now, please tell us everything that may help us form an opinion on the matter.”

“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me.”

“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the horror of my situation is that my fears are so vague. My suspicions depend entirely on small details that might seem trivial to someone else. The very person I have the greatest right to turn to for help and advice thinks my fears are a nervous woman’s fantasies. He does not say so, but I can tell from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the many forms of wickedness in the human heart. You may be able to advise me how to navigate the dangers that surround me.”

“I am all attention, madam.”

“You have my full attention, ma’am.”

“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.”

“My name is Helen Stoner, and I live with my stepfather. He is the last surviving member of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, one of England’s oldest Saxon families. Stoke Moran is on the western border of Surrey.”

Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he.

Holmes nodded. “The name sounds familiar,” he said.

“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man.

“The family was once among the richest in England. Their estates crossed the borders into Berkshire in the north and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four heirs in succession led reckless, wasteful lives. A gambler finally ruined the family during the Regency. All that remained were a few acres of land and the two-hundred-year-old house, which was burdened by a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his life there, enduring the horrible existence of an aristocrat in poverty. But his only son, my stepfather, saw that he had to adapt to the new circumstances. He borrowed money from a relative, which enabled him to earn a medical degree. He then went to Calcutta, where his medical skill and strength of character helped him build a large practice. Some robberies had been committed in his house, however, and in a fit of anger he beat his native butler to death. He narrowly escaped a death sentence. Instead, he served a long prison term and then returned to England a bitter and disappointed man.

“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money—not less than £ 1000 a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died—she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.

“When Dr. Roylott was in India, he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner. She was the young widow of Major-General Stoner of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins. We were only two years old when my mother remarried. She had a considerable income of at least £1,000 a year. She left all of it to Dr. Roylott for as long as we lived with him. But her will provided that each of us should receive a certain annual sum if we married. Shortly after we returned to England, my mother died. She was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then gave up trying to establish a medical practice in London. He took us to live with him in the old family house at Stoke Moran. The money my mother had left was enough for everything we needed, and nothing seemed to stand in the way of our happiness.

“But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather’s case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger.

“But a terrible change came over our stepfather around this time. Our neighbours had at first been delighted to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family home. But instead of befriending and visiting them, he shut himself up in the house. He rarely came out, except to quarrel fiercely with anyone who crossed his path. The men in his family have inherited a violent temper that borders on madness. I believe my stepfather’s temper had been made worse by his long residence in the tropics. He was involved in a series of disgraceful fights, two of which ended in court. At last he became the terror of the village, and people would flee when he approached. He is immensely strong and absolutely uncontrollable when angry.

“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master.

“Last week he threw the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream. I could prevent another public scandal only by paying out all the money I could gather. His only friends were the wandering gipsies. He let these vagabonds camp on the few bramble-covered acres that remain of the family estate. In return, he accepted their hospitality in their tents, sometimes wandering away with them for weeks at a time. He also has a passion for Indian animals, which a correspondent sends him. At the moment, he has a cheetah and a baboon that roam freely over his grounds. The villagers fear them almost as much as they fear their master.

“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine has.”

“You can imagine from what I’ve said that my poor sister Julia and I had little pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, so for a long time we did all the housework ourselves. She was only thirty when she died, but her hair had already begun to turn white, just as mine has.”

“Your sister is dead, then?”

“Then your sister is dead?”

“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady’s house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.”

“She died exactly two years ago, and I want to speak to you about her death. You can understand that, living as I have described, we were unlikely to meet people our own age and social standing. However, we had an aunt, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow. She was my mother’s unmarried sister, and we were occasionally allowed to make short visits to her house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago and met a marine major on half pay. They became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and did not object to the marriage. But within two weeks of the wedding date, the terrible event occurred that deprived me of my only companion.”

Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor.

Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed and his head resting on a cushion. But now he half opened his eyes and glanced across at his visitor.

“Pray be precise as to details,” said he.

“Please be precise about the details,” he said.

“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second my sister’s, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?”

“It is easy for me to do so, because every event of that dreadful time is burned into my memory. As I have said, the manor house is very old, and only one wing is now occupied. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor. The sitting rooms are in the central block of the building. The first bedroom is Dr. Roylott’s, the second is my sister’s, and the third is mine. There are no doors between the bedrooms, but they all open onto the same corridor. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly so.”

“Exactly.”

“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back.

“The windows of the three rooms open onto the lawn. On that fatal night, Dr. Roylott went to his room early. But we knew he had not gone to bed. My sister was bothered by the smell of the strong Indian cigars he usually smoked. So she left her room and came into mine. She sat there for a while, chatting about her upcoming wedding. At eleven o’clock she got up to leave, but she paused at the door and looked back.

“‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the night?’

“‘Tell me, Helen,’ she said, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in the middle of the night?’

“‘Never,’ said I.

“‘Never,’ I said.

“‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?’

“‘I suppose you couldn't possibly whistle in your sleep yourself?’

“‘Certainly not. But why?’

“‘Of course not. But why?’

“‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.’

“‘Because for the last few nights, I have heard a soft, clear whistle at about three in the morning. I sleep lightly, and the whistle has woken me. I can’t tell where it came from. Perhaps it came from the next room, or perhaps from the lawn. I just wanted to ask whether you had heard it.’

“‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.’

“‘No, I have not. It must be those awful gipsies in the plantation.’

“‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.’

“‘Very likely. But if it was on the lawn, I wonder why you didn’t hear it too.’

“‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’

“‘Ah, but I sleep more deeply than you.’

“‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock.”

“‘Well, it doesn't matter much, anyway.’ She smiled back at me and closed my door. A few moments later, I heard her turn the key in the lock.”

“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?”

“I see,” said Holmes. “Did you always lock yourselves in at night?”

“Always.”

“Always.”

“And why?”

“And why?”

“I think that I mentioned to you that the Doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.”

“I think I mentioned that the Doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We only felt safe when our doors were locked.”

“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”

“That's right. Please continue with your statement.”

“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the Doctor’s room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister.”

“I could not sleep that night. I had a vague feeling that something terrible was about to happen. My sister and I were twins, as you will remember. You know how subtle the bonds are between two souls so closely connected. It was a wild night. The wind howled outside, and the rain beat and splashed against the windows. Suddenly, above all the noise of the storm, a terrified woman screamed. I knew it was my sister’s voice. I jumped out of bed, wrapped a shawl around myself, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door, I thought I heard a low whistle, like the one my sister had described. A few moments later, I heard a clanging sound, as if a large piece of metal had fallen. As I ran down the corridor, my sister’s door was unlocked and slowly swung open. I stared at it in horror, not knowing what was about to come out. In the light of the corridor lamp, I saw my sister appear in the doorway. Her face was pale with terror, and her hands reached out for help. Her whole body swayed back and forth like a drunk person. I ran to her and put my arms around her, but her knees seemed to give way. She fell to the ground, writhing as if in terrible pain, and her limbs shook violently. At first I thought she had not recognized me. But as I bent over her, she suddenly shrieked in a voice I will never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ She wanted to say something else and pointed sharply toward the Doctor’s room. But another convulsion seized her and choked off her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and met him hurrying from his room in his dressing gown. By the time he reached my sister, she was unconscious. He poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical help from the village. But all efforts were in vain. She slowly faded and died without regaining consciousness. That was the dreadful end of my beloved sister.”

“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?”

“Wait a moment,” said Holmes. “Are you sure you heard a whistle and a metallic sound? Could you swear to it?”

“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived.”

“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. I feel certain I heard it. But the crashing wind and the creaking of an old house may have fooled me.”

“Was your sister dressed?”

“Was your sister dressed?”

“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.”

“No, she was wearing her nightgown. A charred matchstick was found in her right hand and a matchbox in her left.”

“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?”

“This shows that she lit a match and looked around when the alarm happened. That is important. What conclusions did the coroner reach?”

“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.”

“He investigated the case carefully because Dr. Roylott’s behavior had long been notorious in the county. But he could not find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been locked from the inside. The windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully tested and found to be solid all around. The floor was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but four large metal staples block it. So it is certain that my sister was completely alone when she died. Besides, there were no signs of violence on her body.”

“How about poison?”

“How about poison?”

“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.”

“The doctors examined her for it, but found nothing.”

“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?”

“What do you think this poor woman died of, then?”

“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.”

“I believe she died of pure fear and nervous shock. But I can’t imagine what frightened her.”

“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?”

“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?”

“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”

“Yes, there are almost always some there.”

“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckled band?”

“Ah, and what did you make of the mention of a band, a speckled band?”

“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used.”

“Sometimes I have thought it was just the wild talk of delirium. At other times, I thought it might have referred to a group of people, perhaps the very gipsies in the plantation. So many of them wear spotted handkerchiefs over their heads. I do not know whether those handkerchiefs might have suggested the strange adjective she used.”

Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.

Holmes shook his head like a man who was far from satisfied.

“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your narrative.”

“This is very complicated,” he said. “Please go on with your story.”

“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice.”

“Two years have passed since then, and until recently my life has been lonelier than ever. But a month ago, a dear friend whom I have known for many years honored me by asking me to marry him. His name is Percy Armitage. He is the second son of Mr. Armitage of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has not objected to the match, and we are to be married sometime this spring. Two days ago, repairs began in the west wing of the building. A hole was made in my bedroom wall, so I had to move into the room where my sister died. I had to sleep in the very bed she slept in. Imagine my terror last night as I lay awake, thinking about her terrible fate. Suddenly, in the silence of the night, I heard the low whistle that had come before her death. I jumped up and lit the lamp, but there was nothing to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go back to bed, so I got dressed. As soon as it was daylight, I slipped downstairs and got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn opposite. I drove to Leatherhead, and from there I came here this morning. My only purpose was to see you and ask your advice.”

“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?”

“You made a wise decision,” said my friend. “But have you told me everything?”

“Yes, all.”

“Yes, all.”

“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.”

“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are protecting your stepfather.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“What do you mean?”

For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.

In answer, Holmes pushed back the black lace edging the sleeve of the hand resting on our visitor’s knee. Five small, dark bruises marked her pale wrist, left by four fingers and a thumb.

“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes.

“You have been treated cruelly,” said Holmes.

The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.”

The woman blushed deeply and covered her injured wrist. “He is a harsh man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.”

There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

There was a long silence. Holmes rested his chin on his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

“This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?”

“This is a very complicated matter,” he said at last. “There are a thousand details I would like to know before deciding what we should do. Yet we have no time to lose. If we came to Stoke Moran today, could we look around these rooms without your stepfather knowing?”

“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way.”

“As it happens, he said he was coming into town today on very important business. He will probably be away all day, so nothing is likely to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish. I could easily get her out of the way.”

“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?”

“Excellent. You don't mind taking this trip, Watson?”

“By no means.”

“Not at all.”

“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?”

“Then we’ll both come. What are you going to do?”

“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming.”

“Now that I’m in town, I have one or two things I’d like to do. But I’ll take the twelve o’clock train back so I’m there in time for your arrival.”

“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?”

“And you can expect us early in the afternoon. I have a few small business matters to attend to myself. Won't you stay for breakfast?”

“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room.

“No, I must go. I already feel relieved after telling you about my trouble. I look forward to seeing you again this afternoon.” She lowered her thick black veil over her face and glided out of the room.

“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair.

“What do you think of it all, Watson?” Sherlock Holmes asked, leaning back in his chair.

“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.”

“This seems to me to be a very dark and sinister affair.”

“Dark enough and sinister enough.”

“Dark enough and menacing enough.”

“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end.”

“Yet the lady may be right that the floor and walls are solid, and that no one could pass through the door, window, or chimney. If so, her sister must have been alone when she met her mysterious end.”

“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?”

“What, then, about those whistles at night and the dying woman's very strange words?”

“I cannot think.”

“I can't think.”

“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines.”

“When you put the clues together, I think there is good reason to believe the mystery may be solved along these lines. There are the whistles at night and the band of gipsies who are close to the old doctor. We also have every reason to believe the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage. Then there is the dying mention of a band. Finally, Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang. It might have been caused by one of the metal bars securing the shutters falling back into place.”

“But what, then, did the gipsies do?”

“But what did the gipsies do, then?”

“I cannot imagine.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“I see many objections to any such theory.”

“I see many problems with any such theory.”

“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!”

“And so do I. That is exactly why we are going to Stoke Moran today. I want to see whether the objections are fatal or if they can be explained. But what the devil!”

The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.

My companion cried out because our door had suddenly burst open and a huge man stood in the doorway. His clothes were a strange mix of professional and country attire. He wore a black top hat, a long frock coat, and high gaiters, with a riding crop swinging in his hand. He was so tall that his hat actually brushed the top of the doorway. He seemed broad enough to fill the doorway from side to side. He turned his large face from one of us to the other. It was deeply wrinkled, yellow from the sun, and marked by every evil passion. His deep-set, yellow-tinged eyes and high, thin, fleshless nose made him look rather like a fierce old bird of prey.

“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition.

“Which of you is Holmes?” asked the apparition.

“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my companion quietly.

“That is my name, sir, but I don’t know yours,” said my companion quietly.

“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”

“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott from Stoke Moran.”

“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.”

“Really, Doctor,” said Holmes calmly. “Please take a seat.”

“I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. What has she been saying to you?”

“I won't do anything of the sort. My stepdaughter has been here. I tracked her down. What has she been telling you?”

“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.

“It’s a little cold for this time of year,” said Holmes.

“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man furiously.

“What has she been saying to you?” the old man screamed furiously.

“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my companion imperturbably.

“But I have heard that the crocuses look promising,” my companion continued calmly.

“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.”

“Ha! You’re trying to put me off, are you?” said our new visitor, stepping forward and shaking his riding crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I’ve heard of you before. You’re Holmes, the meddler.”

My friend smiled.

My friend smiled.

“Holmes, the busybody!”

“Holmes, the nosy meddler!”

His smile broadened.

His smile grew wider.

“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!”

“Holmes, that self-important Scotland Yard official!”

Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught.”

Holmes laughed heartily. “Your conversation is very entertaining,” he said. “Please close the door when you leave, because there’s quite a draft.”

“I will go when I have had my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

“I’ll leave when I’ve said what I came to say. Don’t you dare interfere in my affairs. I know Miss Stoner has been here. I followed her! I’m a dangerous man to cross! Look at this.” He stepped forward quickly, grabbed the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

“Make sure you stay out of my grip,” he snarled. He threw the twisted poker into the fireplace and strode out of the room.

“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.

“He seems like a very pleasant person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I’m not quite as big, but if he had stayed, I might have shown him my grip was almost as strong as his.” As he spoke, he picked up the steel poker and straightened it again with a sudden effort.

“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter.”

“Imagine his nerve, mistaking me for an official detective! Still, this incident makes our investigation more exciting. I only hope our little friend will not suffer for her carelessness in letting this brute follow her. Now, Watson, we shall order breakfast. Afterwards, I shall walk down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to find some information that may help us.”

It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures.

It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his outing. He held a sheet of blue paper covered with scribbled notes and figures.

“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife’s death was little short of £ 1,100, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £ 750. Each daughter can claim an income of £ 250, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning’s work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need.”

“I have seen the deceased wife’s will,” he said. “To understand exactly what it means, I had to calculate the current value of her investments. At the time of her death, the total income was just under £1,100. Because agricultural prices have fallen, it is now no more than £750. Each daughter can claim an income of £250 if she marries. Clearly, if both girls had married, this fine fellow would have been left with a mere pittance. Even one daughter’s marriage would have seriously crippled him financially. My morning’s work has not been wasted. It has proved that he has the strongest possible motives for preventing any such marriage. And now, Watson, this is too serious to waste time. The old man knows we are taking an interest in his affairs. So, if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I would be very grateful if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a toothbrush are, I think, all we need.”

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

At Waterloo, we were lucky to catch a train to Leatherhead. At the station inn, we hired a horse-drawn carriage. We drove four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with bright sunshine and a few fluffy clouds in the sky. The trees and roadside hedges were just putting out their first green shoots. The air was full of the pleasant smell of damp earth. To me at least, there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of spring and our sinister quest. My companion sat at the front of the carriage, deep in thought. His arms were folded, his hat was pulled down over his eyes, and his chin rested on his chest. Suddenly, though, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed across the meadows.

“Look there!” said he.

“Look there!” he said.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

A heavily wooded park rose up a gentle slope, with trees growing thicker at the top. The gray gables and high roof of a very old mansion jutted out from among the branches.

“Stoke Moran?” said he.

“Stoke Moran?” he said.

“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked the driver.

“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” said the driver.

“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is where we are going.”

“There is some construction going on there,” said Holmes. “That is where we are going.”

“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you’ll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the footpath over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.”

“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left. “But if you want to get to the house, it’s shorter to cross this stile and follow the path through the fields. There’s the house, where the lady is walking.”

“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading his eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.”

“And I think the lady is Miss Stoner,” said Holmes, shading his eyes. “Yes, I think we should do as you suggest.”

We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.

We got out and paid our fare. The carriage rattled back toward Leatherhead.

“I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, “that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word.”

“I thought it best,” said Holmes as we climbed over the stile, “to let this fellow think we came as architects, or on some specific business. It may stop him from gossiping. Good afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have kept our word.”

Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening.”

Our client from that morning hurried forward to meet us, her face full of joy. “I’ve been waiting so eagerly for you,” she cried, shaking our hands warmly. “Everything has turned out wonderfully. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and he probably won’t be back before evening.”

“We have had the pleasure of making the Doctor’s acquaintance,” said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened.

“We have had the pleasure of meeting the Doctor,” said Holmes. He briefly explained what had happened. Miss Stoner’s lips turned white as she listened.

“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.”

“Oh no!” she cried. “He followed me after all.”

“So it appears.”

“So it seems.”

“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns?”

“He is so clever that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he comes back?”

“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt’s at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine.”

“He must be careful, because he may find that someone more cunning than he is on his trail. You must lock yourself away from him tonight. If he becomes violent, we will take you to your aunt’s in Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time. Please take us straight to the rooms we need to examine.”

The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows.

The building was made of grey stone, blotched with lichen. It had a tall central section and two curved wings that stretched out like a crab’s claws. In one wing, the windows were broken and boarded up. The roof had partly caved in, making the wing a picture of ruin. The central section was in little better condition. But the right wing was relatively modern. Its window blinds and the blue smoke curling from its chimneys showed that the family lived there. Scaffolding had been put up against the end wall, and the stonework had been broken into. But there were no workers in sight when we visited. Holmes walked slowly up and down the poorly trimmed lawn, carefully examining the outside of the windows.

“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott’s chamber?”

“I assume this belongs to the room where you used to sleep, the middle one to your sister’s room, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott’s room?”

“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.”

“That’s right. But I’m sleeping in the middle one now.”

“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.”

“As I understand it, until the alterations are finished. By the way, that end wall doesn't seem to need repairs very urgently.”

“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room.”

“There were none. I think it was an excuse to get me out of my room.”

“Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?”

“Ah! That is a clue. Now, a corridor runs along the other side of this narrow wing. These three rooms open onto it. There are windows in the corridor, of course?”

“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through.”

“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to get through.”

“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?”

“Because you both locked your doors at night, no one could enter your rooms from that side. Now, would you please go into your room and bar your shutters?”

Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter.”

Miss Stoner did so. Holmes examined the shutter carefully through the open window. He then tried every way he could to force it open, but without success. There was no gap through which a knife could be passed to lift the bar. He examined the hinges with his magnifying glass. But they were solid iron and firmly set into the thick masonry. “Hmm!” he said, scratching his chin in some puzzlement. “My theory certainly has some difficulties. No one could get past these shutters if they were bolted. Well, let us see if the inside sheds any light on the matter.”

A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.

A small side door led into a whitewashed corridor, with doors opening into the three bedrooms. Holmes declined to examine the third bedroom, so we went straight to the second. Miss Stoner was now sleeping there, and her sister had met her fate there. It was a plain little room, with a low ceiling and a wide fireplace, typical of old country houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, and a narrow bed with a white bedspread in another. A dressing table stood to the left of the window. Two small wicker chairs and a square of Wilton carpet in the centre completed the furnishings. The floorboards around the carpet and the wall panels were made of brown, worm-eaten oak. The wood was so old and discoloured that it may have dated from when the house was built. Holmes pulled one of the chairs into a corner and sat silently. His eyes travelled around the room, up and down, taking in every detail.

“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow.

“Where does that bell lead?” he asked at last. He pointed to a thick bell rope hanging beside the bed, its tassel lying on the pillow.

“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”

“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”

“It looks newer than the other things?”

“It looks newer than the other things?”

“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”

“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”

“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”

“Your sister asked for it, I assume?”

“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves.”

“No, I never heard of her using it. We always got what we wanted for ourselves.”

“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.

“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put such a nice bell-pull there. Excuse me for a few minutes while I examine the floor.” He lay face down, holding his magnifying glass, and quickly crawled back and forth. He closely examined the cracks between the floorboards. Then he examined the room’s wood paneling in the same way. Finally, he walked over to the bed and spent some time studying it and looking up and down the wall. Then he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a quick tug.

“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he.

“Why, it’s a dummy,” he said.

“Won’t it ring?”

“Won’t it ring?”

“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is.”

“No, it isn't even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see that it's fastened to a hook just above the small opening for the ventilator.”

“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.”

“How ridiculous! I never noticed that before.”

“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!”

“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one or two very unusual things about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room! He could have opened it to the outside air with the same effort.”

“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.

“That is also quite modern,” said the woman.

“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes.

“Done around the same time as the bell rope?” said Holmes.

“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.”

“Yes, several small changes were made around that time.”

“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner apartment.”

“They seem to have been very interesting: dummy bell ropes and ventilators that do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we will now continue our investigation in the inner room.”

Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest.

Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s room was larger than his stepdaughter’s, but just as plainly furnished. Its main furnishings were a camp bed, a small wooden shelf full of mostly technical books, and an armchair beside the bed. There was also a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe. Holmes walked slowly around the room, examining every item with the keenest interest.

“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.

“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

“Oh! you have seen inside, then?”

“Oh! So you've seen inside?”

“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”

“Only once, a few years ago. I remember it was full of papers.”

“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”

“For example, there isn’t a cat in it?”

“No. What a strange idea!”

“No. What a strange idea!”

“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.

“Well, look at this!” He picked up a small saucer of milk that was sitting on top of it.

“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”

“No, we don’t have a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”

“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention.

“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat. But I suppose a saucer of milk doesn’t do much to satisfy its needs. There is one thing I would like to find out.” He squatted in front of the wooden chair and examined its seat very carefully.

“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!”

“Thank you. That settles it,” he said, standing up and putting his lens in his pocket. “Oh! Here’s something interesting!”

The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.

What had caught his eye was a small dog whip hanging from one corner of the bed. But the lash was curled back and tied to form a loop of whipcord.

“What do you make of that, Watson?”

“What do you think of that, Watson?”

“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.”

“It’s a fairly common whip. But I don’t know why it’s tied.”

“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn.”

“That’s not quite so common, is it? Oh, dear! It’s a wicked world. And worst of all is when a clever man uses his brains for crime. I think I’ve seen enough now, Miss Stoner. With your permission, we’ll walk out onto the lawn.”

I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie.

I had never seen my friend’s face look so grim or his brow so troubled. He looked that way as we left the scene of the investigation. We walked up and down the lawn several times. Neither Miss Stoner nor I wanted to interrupt his thoughts, until he finally came out of his reverie.

“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect.”

“Miss Stoner,” he said, “it is very important that you follow my advice exactly in every respect.”

“I shall most certainly do so.”

“I certainly will.”

“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your compliance.”

“The matter is too serious to hesitate. Your life may depend on doing as I ask.”

“I assure you that I am in your hands.”

“I assure you, I am relying on you.”

“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room.”

“First, my friend and I must both spend the night in your room.”

Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

Miss Stoner and I both stared at him in surprise.

“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there?”

“Yes, that must be so. Let me explain. Is that the village inn over there?”

“Yes, that is the Crown.”

“Yes, that is the Crown.”

“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?”

“All right. Could your windows be seen from there?”

“Certainly.”

“Certainly.”

“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night.”

“When your stepfather comes back, you must stay in your room and pretend you have a headache. Then, when you hear him go to bed, open your window shutters and undo the latch. Put your lamp in the window as a signal to us. Then quietly take everything you might need into the room you used to occupy. I have no doubt you could manage there for one night, despite the repairs.”

“Oh, yes, easily.”

“Oh, yes, easily.”

“The rest you will leave in our hands.”

“Leave the rest to us.”

“But what will you do?”

“But what will you do?”

“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you.”

“We’ll spend the night in your room. We’ll investigate what’s causing the noise that has disturbed you.”

“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve.

“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” said Miss Stoner, placing her hand on my companion’s sleeve.

“Perhaps I have.”

“Perhaps I have.”

“Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s death.”

“Then, please, tell me what caused my sister’s death.”

“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.”

“I'd prefer clearer evidence before I speak.”

“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright.”

“You can at least tell me if my thought is right, and if she died from a sudden fright.”

“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think there was probably a more tangible cause. Now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you. If Dr. Roylott returned and saw us, our journey would be wasted. Goodbye, and be brave. If you do what I have told you, you can be sure we will soon drive away the dangers threatening you.”

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the Doctor’s voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

Sherlock Holmes and I had no trouble getting a bedroom and a sitting room at the Crown Inn. Both rooms were upstairs. From our window we could see the avenue gate and the occupied wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past. His huge figure loomed beside the small boy who was driving him. The boy had a little trouble opening the heavy iron gates. We heard the Doctor’s hoarse roar and saw him furiously shake his clenched fists at the boy. The carriage drove on. A few minutes later, we saw a light suddenly appear among the trees as a lamp was lit in one of the sitting rooms.

“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger.”

“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the fading light, “I have some doubts about taking you tonight. There is a definite risk of danger.”

“Can I be of assistance?”

“Can I help?”

“Your presence might be invaluable.”

“Having you there might be invaluable.”

“Then I shall certainly come.”

“Then I’ll certainly come.”

“It is very kind of you.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me.”

“You speak of danger. You have clearly seen more in these rooms than I did.”

“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did.”

“No, but I think I may have figured out a little more. I imagine you saw everything I did.”

“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.”

“I saw nothing remarkable except the bell-rope. But I confess I cannot imagine what purpose it could serve.”

“You saw the ventilator, too?”

“You saw the vent, too?”

“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass through.”

“Yes, but I don't think it's very unusual to have a small opening between two rooms. The opening was so small that a rat could hardly pass through.”

“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran.”

“I knew we would find a ventilator before we even came to Stoke Moran.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“My dear Holmes!”

“Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner’s inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.”

“Oh, yes, I did. You remember she said in her statement that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. That immediately suggested there must be an opening between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or someone would have mentioned it at the coroner’s inquest. I concluded that it was a ventilator.”

“But what harm can there be in that?”

“But what harm could that do?”

“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that strike you?”

“Well, the dates are at least a curious coincidence. A ventilator is installed, a cord is hung, and a woman who sleeps in the bed dies. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“I cannot as yet see any connection.”

“I can't see any connection yet.”

“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?”

“Did you notice anything very unusual about that bed?”

“No.”

“No.”

“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?”

“It was clamped to the floor. Have you ever seen a bed fastened like that before?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

“I can't say that I have.”

“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.”

“The lady could not move her bed. It had to stay in the same position relative to the ventilator and the rope. We may call it a rope, since it was clearly never meant to ring a bell.”

“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.”

“Holmes,” I cried, “I think I’m beginning to understand what you’re hinting at. We’re just in time to prevent some clever and horrible crime.”

“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness’ sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful.”

“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor turns to crime, he is the most dangerous of criminals. He has courage and knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the leaders of their profession. This man goes even further, but I think we can go further still, Watson. We’ll have enough horrors before the night is over. For goodness’ sake, let’s enjoy a quiet pipe and think about something more cheerful for a few hours.”

About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us.

Around nine o’clock, the light among the trees went out, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly. Then, just as eleven struck, a single bright light suddenly appeared right in front of us.

“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comes from the middle window.”

“That’s our signal,” said Holmes, jumping to his feet. “It’s coming from the middle window.”

As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand.

As we left, he spoke briefly with the landlord. He explained that we were going to visit an acquaintance late and might spend the night there. A moment later, we were out on the dark road, with a cold wind blowing in our faces. Ahead of us, a single yellow light twinkled through the darkness, guiding us on our somber errand.

There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness.

It was easy to enter the grounds because there were unrepaired gaps in the old park wall. We made our way through the trees and crossed the lawn. We were about to enter through the window when something darted out from a clump of laurel bushes. It looked like a hideous, deformed child. It threw itself onto the grass, twisting its limbs, then ran quickly across the lawn into the darkness.

“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”

“My God!” I whispered. “Did you see it?”

Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear.

For a moment, Holmes was as startled as I was. In his agitation, he gripped my wrist like a vise. Then he gave a quiet laugh and put his lips close to my ear.

“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.”

“It’s a nice household,” he murmured. “That’s the baboon.”

I had forgotten the strange pets which the Doctor affected. There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes’ example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words:

I had forgotten the strange pets the Doctor kept. There was a cheetah, too. Perhaps it might land on our shoulders at any moment. I admit I felt relieved when I followed Holmes’ example, slipped off my shoes, and entered the bedroom. My companion silently closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and looked around the room. Everything was as we had seen it that day. Then he crept up to me and cupped his hand around his mouth. He whispered into my ear again, so softly that I could barely make out the words:

“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”

“Even the smallest sound would ruin our plans.”

I nodded to show that I had heard.

I nodded to show I had heard.

“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”

“We must sit in the dark. He would see the light through the vent.”

I nodded again.

I nodded again.

“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair.”

“Do not fall asleep. Your life may depend on staying awake. Have your pistol ready in case we need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you sit in that chair.”

I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

I took out my revolver and placed it on the corner of the table.

Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

Holmes had brought a long, thin cane upstairs. He placed it on the bed beside him. Next to it, he put the box of matches and the stub of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, leaving us in darkness.

How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness.

How could I ever forget that dreadful night of waiting? I could not hear a sound, not even a breath. Yet I knew my companion sat awake only a few feet away, just as tense and nervous as I was. The shutters blocked out every ray of light, and we waited in complete darkness.

From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall.

Outside, a night bird cried out now and then. Once, a long, catlike whine sounded right at our window. It told us that the cheetah really was loose. Far away, we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, booming every fifteen minutes. How long those fifteen minutes seemed! The clock struck twelve, then one, two, and three. Still, we sat silently, waiting for whatever might happen.

Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull.

Suddenly, a light flashed briefly near the ventilator and vanished. Then came a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark lantern. I heard a slight movement, and then all was silent again, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour, I sat listening intently. Then I suddenly heard another sound. It was very soft and soothing, like a small jet of steam escaping steadily from a kettle. The moment we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and struck furiously at the bell cord with his cane.

“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”

“Do you see it, Watson?” he yelled. “Do you see it?”

But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.

But I saw nothing. When Holmes struck a light, I heard a low, clear whistle. But the sudden glare in my tired eyes kept me from seeing what he was striking so savagely. I could see, however, that his face was deathly pale and full of horror and disgust. He stopped striking and stared up at the ventilator. Suddenly, the most horrible cry I have ever heard broke the silence of the night. It grew louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain, fear, and anger, all mingled in one dreadful shriek. They say the cry woke people in the village and even in the distant parsonage. It chilled us to the heart. I stood staring at Holmes, and he stared at me, until the last echoes died away into silence.

“What can it mean?” I gasped.

“What could it mean?” I gasped.

“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott’s room.”

“It means it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after all, that is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will go into Dr. Roylott’s room.”

With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand.

With a serious face, he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. He knocked twice on the room’s door, but no one answered. Then he turned the handle and went in. I followed close behind, holding the cocked pistol.

It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion.

It was a strange sight. A dark lantern stood on the table, its shutter half open. It cast a brilliant beam of light on the iron safe, whose door stood partly open. Beside the table, Dr. Grimesby Roylott sat on a wooden chair. He wore a long gray dressing gown, with his bare ankles showing beneath it. His feet were thrust into red, backless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short whip with the long lash that we had noticed earlier that day. His chin was raised, and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Around his forehead was a peculiar yellow band with brownish speckles. It seemed to be bound tightly around his head. As we entered, he made no sound and did not move.

“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes.

“The band! The speckled band!” whispered Holmes.

I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.

I took a step forward. At once, his strange headgear began to move. A disgusting snake rose from his hair, its squat head diamond-shaped and its neck swollen.

“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened.”

“It’s a swamp adder!” cried Holmes. “The deadliest snake in India. He died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does indeed come back upon those who use it. And those who plot against others fall into the traps they set. Let’s push this creature back into its den. Then we can take Miss Stoner somewhere safe and tell the county police what happened.”

As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it.

As he spoke, he quickly pulled the dog whip from the dead man’s lap. He slipped the noose around the reptile’s neck and pulled it from its horrible perch. Holding it at arm’s length, he threw it into the iron safe and closed the door.

Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.

These are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott of Stoke Moran. This account has already grown too long, so there is no need to prolong it. I need not tell how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl. Nor need I tell how we took her by the morning train to her good aunt in Harrow. The official inquiry was slow, but it concluded that the doctor died while unwisely playing with a dangerous pet. The next day, as we traveled back, Sherlock Holmes told me the little I still had to learn about the case.

“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim.

“I had,” he said, “come to a completely wrong conclusion. That shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from too little information. The presence of the gipsies and the poor girl’s use of the word ‘band’ led me completely astray. She had no doubt used the word to describe what she had glimpsed by the light of her match. I can only claim that I immediately reconsidered my conclusion once something became clear to me. Whatever danger threatened anyone in the room, it could not come through either the window or the door. “As I have already told you, my attention quickly turned to the ventilator and the bell-rope hanging down to the bed. I discovered that the rope was a dummy and that the bed was fastened to the floor. I immediately suspected that the rope was a bridge for something passing through the hole to the bed. A snake came to mind at once. I also knew that the doctor had a supply of creatures from India. Putting the two together, I felt I was probably on the right track. “Using a poison that no chemical test could possibly detect was just the idea a clever, ruthless man with Eastern training might have. From his point of view, the speed with which such a poison would act would also be an advantage. A coroner would need very sharp eyes to notice the two little dark punctures left by the poisonous fangs. “Then I thought of the whistle. Of course, the doctor had to call the snake back before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it to return when called, probably using the milk we saw. He would put it through the ventilator at whatever hour he thought best. He could be sure it would crawl down the rope and onto the bed. It might or might not bite the person there. Perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she would fall victim.

“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it.”

“I had reached these conclusions before I even entered his room. I examined his chair and saw that he regularly stood on it. Of course, he would have needed to stand on it to reach the ventilator. The safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to dispel any remaining doubts. The metallic clang Miss Stoner heard was obviously her stepfather hastily closing the safe door on its terrible occupant. Once I had made up my mind, you know what steps I took to test my conclusion. I heard the creature hiss, as I have no doubt you did too. I immediately lit the light and attacked it.”

“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”

“As a result, it was driven through the ventilator.”

“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience.”

“And it also caused the snake to turn on its master on the other side. Some blows from my cane struck the snake and angered it. So it attacked the first person it saw. In this way, I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s death. But I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily on my conscience.”