Lopez addressed the note which I had written， sealed it with hissleeve-link， and sent it by the hand of the servant， José. How theymurdered him I do not know， save that it was Murillo’s hand whostruck him down， for Lopez had remained to guard me. I believehe must have waited among the gorse bushes through which thepath winds and struck him down as he passed. At first they wereof a mind to let him enter the house and to kill him as a detectedburglar； but they argued that if they were mixed up in an inquirytheir own identity would at once be publicly disclosed and theywould be open to further attacks. With the death of Garcia， thepursuit might cease， since such a death might frighten others fromthe task.
“All would now have been well for them had it not been for myknowledge of what they had done. I have no doubt that therewere times when my life hung in the balance. I was confined tomy room， terrorized by the most horrible threats， cruelly ill-usedto break my spirit—see this stab on my shoulder and the bruisesfrom end to end of my arms—and a gag was thrust into my mouthon the one occasion when I tried to call from the window. Forfive days this cruel imprisonment continued， with hardly enoughThe Adventure of Wisteria Lodge 1111
food to hold body and soul together. This afternoon a good lunchwas brought me， but the moment after I took it I knew that Ihad been drugged. In a sort of dream I remember being half-led，half-carried to the carriage； in the same state I was conveyed tothe train. Only then， when the wheels were almost moving， did Isuddenly realize that my liberty lay in my own hands. I sprang out，they tried to drag me back， and had it not been for the help of thisgood man， who led me to the cab， I should never had broken away.
Now， thank God， I am beyond their power forever.”
We had all listened intently to this remarkable statement. It wasHolmes who broke the silence.
“Our difficulties are not over，” he remarked， shaking his head.
“Our police work ends， but our legal work begins.”
“Exactly，” said I. “A plausible lawyer could make it out as an actof self-defence. There may be a hundred crimes in the background，but it is only on this one that they can be tried.”
“Come， come，” said Baynes cheerily， “I think better of the lawthan that. Self-defence is one thing. To entice a man in cold bloodwith the object of murdering him is another， whatever danger youmay fear from him. No， no， we shall all be justified when we seethe tenants of High Gable at the next Guildford Assizes.”
It is a matter of history， however， that a little time was still toelapse before the Tiger of San Pedro should meet with his deserts.
Wily and bold， he and his companion threw their pursuer offtheir track by entering a lodging-house in Edmonton Street andleaving by the back-gate into Curzon Square. From that day theywere seen no more in England. Some six months afterwards theMarquess of Montalva and Signor Rulli， his secretary， were bothmurdered in their rooms at the Hotel Escurial at Madrid. Thecrime was ascribed to Nihilism， and the murderers were neverarrested. Inspector Baynes visited us at Baker Street with a printeddeion of the dark face of the secretary， and of the masterfulfeatures， the magnetic black eyes， and the tufted brows of hismaster. We could not doubt that justice， if belated， had come atlast.
“A chaotic case， my dear Watson，” said Holmes over an eveningpipe. “It will not be possible for you to present in that compactform which is dear to your heart. It covers two continents，concerns two groups of mysterious persons， and is furthercomplicated by the highly respectable presence of our friend， ScottEccles， whose inclusion shows me that the deceased Garcia had ascheming mind and a well-developed instinct of self-preservation.
It is remarkable only for the fact that amid a perfect jungle ofpossibilities we， with our worthy collaborator， the inspector， havekept our close hold on the essentials and so been guided along the1112 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
crooked and winding path. Is there any point which is not quiteclear to you？”
“The object of the mulatto cook’s return？”
“I think that the strange creature in the kitchen may accountfor it. The man was a primitive savage from the backwoods ofSan Pedro， and this was his fetish. When his companion andhe had fled to some prearranged retreat—already occupied， nodoubt by a confederate—the companion had persuaded him toleave so compromising an article of furniture. But the mulatto’sheart was with it， and he was driven back to it next day， when， onreconnoitering through the window， he found policeman Waltersin possession. He waited three days longer， and then his piety orhis superstition drove him to try once more. Inspector Baynes，who， with his usual astuteness， had minimized the incident beforeme， had really recognized its importance and had left a trap intowhich the creature walked. Any other point， Watson？”
“The torn bird， the pail of blood， the charred bones， all themystery of that weird kitchen？”
Holmes smiled as he turned up an entry in his notebook.
“I spent a morning in the British Museum reading up on that andother points. Here is a quotation from Eckermann’s Voodooism andthe Negroid Religions：
The true voodoo-worshipper attempts nothing of importancewithout certain sacrifices which are intended to propitiate hisunclean gods. In extreme cases these rites take the form of humansacrifices followed by cannibalism. The more usual victims are awhite cock， which is plucked in pieces alive， or a black goat， whosethroat is cut and body burned.
“So you see our savage friend was very orthodox in his ritual.
is grotesque， Watson，” Holmes added， as he slowly fastened hisnotebook， “but， as I have had occasion to remark， there is but onestep from the grotesque to the horrible.”
The Adventure of the Cardboard Box
