“That’s what I think,” said he. “I know that every word is true,for you have hardly said a word which I did not know. No one butan acrobat or a sailor could have got up to that bell-rope fromthe bracket, and no one but a sailor could have made the knotswith which the cord was fastened to the chair. Only once had thislady been brought into contact with sailors, and that was on hervoyage, and it was someone of her own class of life, since she wastrying hard to shield him, and so showing that she loved him. Yousee how easy it was for me to lay my hands upon you when once Ihad started upon the right trail.”
“I thought the police never could have seen through our dodge.”
“And the police haven’t, nor will they, to the best of my belief.
Now, look here, Captain Crocker, this is a very serious matter,though I am willing to admit that you acted under the mostextreme provocation to which any man could be subjected. Iam not sure that in defence of your own life your action will notbe pronounced legitimate. However, that is for a British jury todecide. Meanwhile I have so much sympathy for you that, if youThe Return of Sherlock Holmes 1065
choose to disappear in the next twenty-four hours, I will promiseyou that no one will hinder you.”
“And then it will all come out?”
“Certainly it will come out.”
The sailor flushed with anger.
“What sort of proposal is that to make a man? I know enoughof law to understand that Mary would be held as accomplice. Doyou think I would leave her alone to face the music while I slunkaway? No, sir, let them do their worst upon me, but for heaven’ssake, Mr. Holmes, find some way of keeping my poor Mary out ofthe courts.”
Holmes for a second time held out his hand to the sailor.
“I was only testing you, and you ring true every time. Well, itis a great responsibility that I take upon myself, but I have givenHopkins an excellent hint and if he can’t avail himself of it I cando no more. See here, Captain Crocker, we’ll do this in due formof law. You are the prisoner. Watson, you are a British jury, and Inever met a man who was more eminently fitted to represent one.
I am the judge. Now, gentleman of the jury, you have heard theevidence. Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty, my lord,” said I.
“VOX POPULI, VOX DEI. You are acquitted, Captain Crocker.
So long as the law does not find some other victim you are safe fromme. Come back to this lady in a year, and may her future and yoursjustify us in the judgment which we have pronounced this night!”
The Adventure of the Second Stain
I had intended “The Adventure of the Abbey Grange” to be thelast of those exploits of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, which Ishould ever communicate to the public. This resolution of minewas not due to any lack of material, since I have notes of manyhundreds of cases to which I have never alluded, nor was it causedby any waning interest on the part of my readers in the singularpersonality and unique methods of this remarkable man. Thereal reason lay in the reluctance which Mr. Holmes has shown tothe continued publication of his experiences. So long as he wasin actual professional practice the records of his successes wereof some practical value to him, but since he has definitely retiredfrom London and betaken himself to study and bee-farming onthe Sussex Downs, notoriety has become hateful to him, and hehas peremptorily requested that his wishes in this matter shouldbe strictly observed. It was only upon my representing to him thatI had given a promise that “The Adventure of the Second Stain”
should be published when the times were ripe, and pointing out1066 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
to him that it is only appropriate that this long series of episodesshould culminate in the most important international case whichhe has ever been called upon to handle, that I at last succeededin obtaining his consent that a carefully guarded account of theincident should at last be laid before the public. If in telling thestory I seem to be somewhat vague in certain details, the publicwill readily understand that there is an excellent reason for myreticence.
It was, then, in a year, and even in a decade, that shall be nameless,that upon one Tuesday morning in autumn we found two visitorsof European fame within the walls of our humble room in BakerStreet. The one, austere, high-nosed, eagle-eyed, and dominant,was none other than the illustrious Lord Bellinger, twice Premierof Britain. The other, dark, clear-cut, and elegant, hardly yetof middle age, and endowed with every beauty of body and ofmind, was the Right Honourable Trelawney Hope, Secretary forEuropean Affairs, and the most rising statesman in the country.
They sat side by side upon our paper-littered settee, and it waseasy to see from their worn and anxious faces that it was businessof the most pressing importance which had brought them. ThePremier’s thin, blue-veined hands were clasped tightly over theivory head of his umbrella, and his gaunt, ascetic face lookedgloomily from Holmes to me. The European Secretary pullednervously at his moustache and fidgeted with the seals of hiswatch-chain.
“When I discovered my loss, Mr. Holmes, which was at eighto’clock this morning, I at once informed the Prime Minister. Itwas at his suggestion that we have both come to you.”
“Have you informed the police?”
“No, sir,” said the Prime Minister, with the quick, decisivemanner for which he was famous. “We have not done so, nor is itpossible that we should do so. To inform the police must, in thelong run, mean to inform the public. This is what we particularlydesire to avoid.”
“And why, sir?”
