The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

(221bakerstreet.org)

I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holrnes upon thesecond morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishinghim the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reachupon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidentlynewly studied, near at hand.

  Beside the couch was a woodenchair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and crackedin several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of thechair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this mannerfor the purpose of examination. "You are engaged," said l; "perhaps I interrupt you." "Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I candiscuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one" -- hejerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat -- "but there arepoints in connection with it which are not entirely devoid ofinterest and even of instruction." I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands beforehis crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windowswere thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that,homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on toit -- that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution ofsome mystery and the punishment of some crime." "No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Onlyone of those whimsical little incidents which will happen whenyou have four million human beings all jostling each other withinthe space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction ofso dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination ofevents may be expected to take place, and many a little problemwill be presented which may be striking and bizarre withoutbeing criminal. We have already had experience of such." "So much so," l remarked, "that of the last six cases which Ihave added to my notes, three have been entirely free of anylegal crime." "Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the IreneAdler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, andto the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have nodoubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocentcategory. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?" "Yes." "It is to him that this trophy belongs." "It is his hat." "No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that youwill look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived uponChristmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is,I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson'sfire. The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morn-ing, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his wayhomeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw,in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, andcarrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reachedthe corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked offthe man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himselfand, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behindhim. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from hisassailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window,and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towardshim, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid thelabyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of TottenhamCourt Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance ofPeterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle,and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hatand a most unimpeachable Christmas goose." "Which surely he restored to their owner?" "My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'ForMrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tiedto the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.'are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are somethousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one ofthem." "What, then, did Peterson do?" "He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmasmorning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interestto me. The goose we retained until this morning, when therewere signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well thatit should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder hascarried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose,while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman wholost his Christmas dinner." "Did he not advertise?" "No." "Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?" "Only as much as we can deduce." "From his hat?" "Precisely." "But you are joking. What can you gather from this oldbattered felt?" "Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can yougather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has wornthis article?" I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over ratherruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual roundshape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been ofred silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker'sname; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H. B." werescrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked,exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although thereseemed to have been some attempt to hide the discolouredpatches by smearing them with ink. "I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend. "On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail,however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid indrawing your inferences." "Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from thishat?" He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspectivefashion which was characteristic of him. "It is perhaps lesssuggestive than it might have been," he remarked, "and yetthere are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a fewothers which represent at least a strong balance of probability.That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious uponthe face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within thelast three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. Hehad foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to amoral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of hisfortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink,at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious factthat his wife has ceased to love him." "My dear Holmes!" "He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," hecontinued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man wholeads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely,is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within thelast few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These arethe more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat.Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gaslaid on in his house." "You are certainly joking, Holmes." "Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I giveyou these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?" "I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess thatI am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deducethat this man was intellectual?" For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It cameright over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose."It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with solarge a brain must have something in it." "The decline of his fortunes, then?" "This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at theedge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look atthe band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man couldafford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had nohat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world." "Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about theforesight and the moral retrogression?" Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer."They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is asign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of hisway to take this precaution against the wind. But since we seethat he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, itis obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which isa distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he hasendeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt bydaubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirelylost his self-respect." "Your reasoning is certainly plausible." "The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair isgrizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of thelower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number ofhair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appearto be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. Thisdust, you will observe, is not the gritty, gray dust of the streetbut the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has beenhung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moistureupon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired veryfreely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training." "But his wife -- you said that she had ceased to love him." "This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you,my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon yourhat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, Ishall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to loseyour wife's affection." "But he might be a bachelor." "Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering tohis wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg." "You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do youdeduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?" "One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; butwhen I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubtthat the individual must be brought into frequent contact withburning tallow -- walks upstairs at night probably with his hat inone hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he nevergot tallow-stains from a gasjet. Are you satisfied?" "Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, asyou said just now, there has been no crime committed, and noharm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather awaste of energy." Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when thedoor flew open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed intothe apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who isdazed with astonishment. "The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped. "Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped offthrough the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself roundupon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face. "See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He heldout his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm abrilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like anelectric point in the dark hollow of his hand. Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "By Jove, Peterson!"said he, "this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know whatyou have got?" "A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass asthough it were putty." "It's. more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone." "Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!" I ejaculated. "Precisely so. l ought to know its size and shape, seeing that Ihave read the advertisement about it in The Times every daylately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjec-tured, but the reward offered of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price." "A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!" The commis-sionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to theother of us. "That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there aresentimental considerations in the background which would in-duce the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could butrecover the gem." "It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopoli-tan," I remarked. "Precisely so, on December 22d, just five days ago. JohnHorner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from thelady's jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong thatthe case has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account ofthe matter here, I believe." He rummaged amid his newspapers,glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out,doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: "Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22d inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evi- dence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B divi- sion, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who strug- gled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court. "Hum! So much for the police-court," said Holmes thought-fully, tossing aside the paper. "The question for us now to solveis the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at oneend to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other.You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed amuch more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone;the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr.Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the othercharacteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must setourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertain-ing what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, wemust try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in anadvertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall haverecourse to other methods." "What will you say?" "Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: "Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.That is clear and concise." "Very. But will he see it?" "Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to apoor man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared byhis mischance in breaking the window and by the approach ofPeterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then hemust have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him todrop his bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name willcause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct hisattention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertis-ing agency and have this put in the evening papers." "In which, sir?" "Oh, in the Clobe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, EveningNews Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you." "Very well, sir. And this stone?" "Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say,Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it herewith me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in placeof the one which your family is now devouring." When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stoneand held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Justsee how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focusof crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. Inthe larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloodydeed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in thebanks of the Amoy River in southem China and is remarkable inhaving every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is bluein shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already asinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing,a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of thisforty-grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think thatso pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and theprison? I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line tothe Countess to say that we have it." "Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?" "I cannot tell." "Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker,had anything to do with the matter?" "It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is anabsolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which hewas carrying was of considerably more value than if it weremade of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a verysimple test if we have an answer to our advertisement." "And you can do nothing until then?" "Nothing. " "In that case I shall continue my professional round. But Ishall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned,for I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business." "Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, Ibelieve. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps Iought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop." I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-pastsix when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As Iapproached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with acoat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in thebright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as l arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together toHolmes's room. "Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchairand greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which hecould so readily assume. "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr.Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation ismore adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?" "Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat." He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard ofgrizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slighttremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes's surmise as to hishabits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front,with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from hissleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave theimpression generally of a man of learning and letters who hadhad ill-usage at the hands of fortune. "We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes,"because we expected to see an advertisement from you givingyour address. I am at a loss to know now why you did notadvertise." Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings havenot been so plentiful with me as they once were," he remarked."I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me hadcarried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend moremoney in a hopeless attempt at recovering them." "Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were com- pelled to eat it." "To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. "Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we notdone so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard,which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answeryour purpose equally well?" "Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh ofrelief. "Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on ofyour own bird, so if you wish --" The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful tome as relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I canhardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintanceare going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permis-sion, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard." Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slightshrug of his shoulders. "There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he. "Bythe way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the otherone from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldomseen a better grown goose." "Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked hisnewly gained property under his arm. "There are a few of uswho frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum -- we are to befound in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. Thisyear our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, wewere each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were dulypaid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you,sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor mygravity." With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed sol-emnly to both of us and strode off upon his way. "So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes when he hadclosed the door behind him. "It is quite certain that he knowsnothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?" "Not particularly." "Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper andfollow up this clue while it is still hot." "By all means." It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrappedcravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldlyin a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out intosmoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisplyand loudly as we swung through the doctors' quarter, WimpoleStreet, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Ox-ford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at theAlpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one ofthe streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed openthe door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer fromthe ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. "Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as yourgeese," said he. "My geese!" The man seemed surprised. "Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. HenryBaker, who was a member of your goose club." "Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese." "Indeed! Whose, then?" "Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden." "Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?" "Breckinridge is his name." "Ah! I don't know him. Well, here's your good healthlandlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night. "Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued, buttoning up hiscoat as we came out into the frosty air. "Remember, Watsonthat though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end ofthis chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude unless we can establish his inno-cence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guiltbut, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has beenmissed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed inour hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to thesouth, then, and quick march!" We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so througha zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietora horsy-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskerswas helping a boy to put up the shutters. "Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at mycompanion. "Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at thebare slabs of marble. "Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning." "That's no good." "Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare." "Ah, but I was recommended to you." "Who by?" "The landlord of the Alpha." "Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen." "Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get themfrom?" To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger fromthe salesman. "Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and hisarms akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight,now." "It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha." "Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!" "Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know whyyou should be so warm over such a trifle." "Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pesteredas I am. When I pay good money for a good article there shouldbe an end of the business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you take for thegeese?' One would think they were the only geese in the world,to hear the fuss that is made over them." "Well, I have no connection with any other people who havebeen making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won'ttell us the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back myopinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the birdI ate is country bred." "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred,"snapped the salesman. "It's nothing of the kind." "I say it is." "I don't believe it." "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birdsthat went to the Alpha were town bred." "You'll never persuade me to believe that." "Will you bet, then?" "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right.But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to beobstinate." The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill,"said he. The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a greatgreasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanginglamp. "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thoughtthat I was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that thereis still one left in my shop. You see this little book?" "Well?" "That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see?Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and thenumbers after their names are where their accounts are in the bigledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, thatis a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Justread it out to me." "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road -- 249," read Holmes. "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger." Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs.Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier." "Now, then, what's the last entry?" " 'December 22d. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.' " "Quite so. There you are. And underneath?" " 'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.' " "What have you to say now?" Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sover-eign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turningaway with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words.A few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in thehearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him. "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the'Pink 'un' protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw himby a bet," said he. "I daresay that if I had put lOO pounds down infront of him, that man would not have given me such completeinformation as was drawn from him by the idea that he wasdoing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearingthe end of our quest, and the only point which remains to bedetermined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshottto-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It isclear from what that surly fellow said that there are othersbesides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and Ishould --" His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub whichbroke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning roundwe saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of thecircle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp,while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall,was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "Iwish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bringMrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to dowith it? Did I buy the geese off you?" "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined thelittle man. "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." "She told me to ask you." "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I'vehad enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward,and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whisperedHolmes. "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made ofthis fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people wholounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily over-took the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. Hesprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestigeof colour had been driven from his face. "Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice. "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesmanjust now. I think that I could be of assistance to you." "You? Who are you? How could you know anything of thematter?" "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know." "But you can know nothing of this?" "Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouringto trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, ofBrixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turnto Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, ofwhich Mr. Henry Baker is a member." "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quiveringfingers. "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in thismatter." Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing."In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather thanin this wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me,before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure ofassisting." The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robin-son," he answered with a sidelong glance. "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward doing business with an alias." A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Wellthen," said he, "my real name is James Ryder." "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Praystep into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everythingwhich you would wish to know." The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us withhalf-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whetherhe is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then hestepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in thesitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during ourdrive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, andthe claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervoustension within him. "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into theroom. "The fire looks very seasonabe in this weather. You lookcold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on myslippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then!You want to know what became of those geese?" "Yes, sir." "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imaginein which you were interested -- white, with a black bar across thetail." Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can youtell me where it went to?" "It came here." "Here?" "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonderthat you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it wasdead -- the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. Ihave it here in my museum." Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiecewith his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held upthe blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with adrawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up,man, or you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felonywith impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks alittle more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!" For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but thebrandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he satstaring with frightened eyes at his accuser. "I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need tellme. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the casecomplete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of theCountess of Morcar's?" "It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in acrackling voice. "I see -- her ladyship's waiting-maid. Well, the temptation ofsudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it hasbeen for better men before you; but you were not very scrupu-lous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there isthe making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that thisman Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some suchmatter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readilyupon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady's room -- you and your confederate Cusack -- and youmanaged that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he hadleft, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had thisunfortunate man arrested. You then --" Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutchedat my companion's knees. "For God's sake, have mercy!" heshrieked. "Think of my father! of my mother! It would breaktheir hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. Iswear it. I'll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don't bring it into court!For Christ's sake, don't!" "Get back into your chair!" said Holmes sternly. "It is verywell to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough ofthis poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knewnothing." "I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Thenthe charge against him will break down." "Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a trueaccount of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, andhow came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, forthere lies your only hope of safety." Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. "I will tell youit just as it happened, sir," said he. "When Horner had beenarrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to getaway with the stone at once, for I did not know at what momentthe police might not take it into their heads to search me and myroom. There was no place about the hotel where it would besafe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for mysister's house. She had married a man named Oakshott, andlived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market.All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be apoliceman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, thesweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I wasso pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robberyat the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipeand wondered what it would be best to do. "I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad,and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he hadmet me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and howthey could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made upmy mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take himinto my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stoneinto money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of theagonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might atany moment be seized and searched, and there would be thestone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall atthe time and looking at the geese which were waddling aboutround my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived. "My sister had told me some weeks before that I might havethe pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew thatshe was always as good as her word. I would take my goosenow, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was alittle shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of thebirds -- a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, andprying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far asmy finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stonepass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creatureflapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what wasthe matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose andfluttered off among the others. " 'Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?' says she. " 'Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas,and I was feeling which was the fattest.' " 'Oh,' says she, 'we've set yours aside for you -- Jem's bird,we call it. It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty-sixof them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and twodozen for the market.' " 'Thank you, Maggie,' says l; 'but if it is all the same toyou, I'd rather have that one I was handling just now.' " 'The other is a good three pound heavier,' said she, 'and we fattened it expressly for you.' " 'Never mind. I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I. " 'Oh, just as you like,' said she, a little huffed. 'Which is ityou want, then?' " 'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle ofthe flock.' " 'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.' "Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the birdall the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he wasa man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laugheduntil he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. Myheart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the birdrushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard. Therewas not a bird to be seen there. " 'Where are they all, Maggie?' I cried. " 'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.' " 'Which dealer's?' " 'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.' " 'But was there another with a barred tail?' I asked, 'thesame as the one I chose?' " 'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I couldnever tell them apart.' "Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as myfeet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had soldthe lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to wherethey had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he hasalways answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am goingmad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now -- and now Iam myself a branded thief, without ever having touched thewealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!" He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried inhis hands. There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathingand by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes's finger-tipsupon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw openthe door. "Get out!" said he. "What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!" "No more words. Get out!" And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatterupon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of runningfootfalls from the street. "After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand forhis clay pipe, "I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing;but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case mustcollapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony. but it is justpossible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrongagain; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you make him a jail-bird for life. Besides, it is the season offorgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular andwhimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If youwill have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will beginanother investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature.".