The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (68 page)

‘He opened the door as he spoke, and I had hardly time to spring out when the coachman lashed the horse, and the carriage rattled away. I looked round me in astonishment. I was on some sort of a heathy common, mottled over with dark clumps of furze bushes. Far away stretched a line of houses, with a light here and there in the upper windows. On the other side I saw the red signal lamps of a railway.

‘The carriage which had brought me was already out of sight. I stood gazing round and wondering where on earth I might be, when
I saw someone coming towards me in the darkness. As he came up to me I made out that it was a railway porter.

‘ “Can you tell me what place this is?” I asked.

‘ “Wandsworth Common,”
²⁰
said he.

‘ “Can I get a train into town?”

‘ “If you walk on a mile or so, to Clapham Junction,”
²¹
said he, “you'll just be in time for the last to Victoria.”
²²

‘So that was the end of my adventure, Mr Holmes. I do not know where I was nor whom I spoke with, nor anything, save what I have told you. But I know that there is foul play going on, and I want to help that unhappy man if I can. I told the whole story to Mr Mycroft Holmes next morning, and, subsequently, to the police.'

We all sat in silence for some little time after listening to this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock looked across at his brother.

‘Any steps?' he asked.

Mycroft picked up the
Daily News
, which was lying on a side table.

‘ “Anybody supplying any information as to the whereabouts of a Greek gentleman named Paul Kratides, from Athens, who is unable to speak English, will be rewarded. A similar reward paid to anyone giving information about a Greek lady whose first name is Sophy. X 2473.” That was in all the dailies. No answer.'

‘How about the Greek Legation?'

‘I have inquired. They know nothing.'

‘A wire to the head of the Athens police, then.'

‘Sherlock has all the energy of the family,' said Mycroft, turning to me. ‘Well, you take up the case by all means, and let me know if you do any good.'

‘Certainly,' answered my friend, rising from his chair. ‘I'll let you know, and Mr Melas also. In the meantime, Mr Melas, I should certainly be on my guard if I were you, for, of course, they must know through these advertisements that you have betrayed them.'

As we walked home together Holmes stopped at a telegraph office and sent off several wires.

‘You see, Watson,' he remarked, ‘our evening has been by no means wasted. Some of my most interesting cases have come to me in this way through Mycroft. The problem which we have just listened
to, although it can admit of but one explanation, has still some

distinguishing features.'

‘You have hopes of solving it?'

‘Well, knowing as much as we do, it will be singular indeed if we fail to discover the rest. You must yourself have formed some theory which will explain the facts to which we have listened.'

‘In a vague way, yes.'

‘What was your idea, then?'

‘It seemed to me to be obvious that this Greek girl had been carried off by the young Englishman named Harold Latimer.'

‘Carried off from where?'

‘Athens, perhaps.'

Sherlock Holmes shook his head. ‘This young man could not talk a word of Greek. The lady could talk English fairly well. Inference that she had been in England some little time, but he had not been in Greece.'

‘Well, then, we will presume that she had come on a visit to England, and that this Harold had persuaded her to fly with him.'

‘That is more probable.'

‘Then the brother – for that, I fancy, must be the relationship – comes over from Greece to interfere. He imprudently puts himself into the power of the young man and his older associate. They seize him and use violence towards him in order to make him sign some papers to make over the girl's fortune – of which he may be trustee – to them. This he refuses to do. In order to negotiate with him, they have to get an interpreter, and they pitch upon this Mr Melas, having used some other one before. The girl is not told of the arrival of her brother, and finds it out by the merest accident.'

‘Excellent, Watson,' cried Holmes. ‘I really fancy that you are not far from the truth. You see that we hold all the cards, and we have only to fear some hidden act of violence on their part. If they give us time we must have them.'

‘But how can we find where this house lies?'

‘Well, if our conjecture is correct, and the girl's name is, or was, Sophy Kratides, we should have no difficulty in tracing her. That must be our main hope, for the brother, of course, is a complete
stranger. It is clear that some time has elapsed since this Harold established these relations with the girl – some weeks at any rate – since the brother in Greece has had time to hear of it, and come across. If they have been living in the same place during this time, it is probable that we shall have some answer to Mycroft's advertisement.'

We had reached our house in Baker Street whilst we had been talking. Holmes ascended the stairs first, and as he opened the door of our room he gave a start of surprise. Looking over his shoulder I was equally astonished. His brother Mycroft was sitting smoking in the armchair.

‘Come in, Sherlock! Come in, sir,' said he blandly, smiling at our surprised faces. ‘You don't expect such energy from me, do you, Sherlock? But somehow this case attracts me.'

‘How did you get here?'

‘I passed you in a hansom.'

‘There has been some new development?'

‘I had an answer to my advertisement.'

‘Ah!'

‘Yes; it came within a few minutes of your leaving.'

‘And to what effect?'

Mycroft Holmes took out a sheet of paper.

‘Here it is,' said he, ‘written with a J pen
²³
on royal cream paper, by a middle-aged man with a weak constitution. “Sir,” he says, “in answer to your advertisement of today's date, I beg to inform you that I know the young lady in question very well. If you should care to call upon me, I could give you some particulars as to her painful history. She is living at present at The Myrtles, Beckenham.
²⁴
– Yours faithfully, J.
DAVENPORT
.”

‘He writes from Lower Brixton,'
²⁵
said Mycroft Holmes. ‘Do you not think that we might drive to him now, Sherlock, and learn these particulars?'

‘My dear Mycroft, the brother's life is more valuable than the sister's story. I think we should call at Scotland Yard
²⁶
for Inspector Gregson, and go straight out to Beckenham. We know that a man is being done to death, and every hour may be vital.'

‘Better pick up Mr Melas upon our way,' I suggested; ‘we may need an interpreter.'

‘Excellent!'s aid Sherlock Holmes. ‘Send the boy for a four-wheeler, and we shall be off at once.' He opened the table-drawer as he spoke, and I noticed that he slipped his revolver into his pocket. ‘Yes,' said he, in answer to my glance, ‘I should say from what we have heard that we are dealing with a particularly dangerous gang.'

It was almost dark before we found ourselves in Pall Mall, at the rooms of Mr Melas.A gentleman had just called for him, and he was gone.

‘Can you tell me where?' asked Mycroft Holmes.

‘I don't know, sir,' answered the woman who had opened the door. ‘I only know that he drove away with the gentleman in a carriage.'

‘Did the gentleman give a name?'

‘No, sir.'

‘He wasn't a tall, handsome, dark young man?'

‘Oh, no, sir; he was a little gentleman, with glasses, thin in the face, but very pleasant in his ways, for he was laughing all the time he was talking.'

‘Come along!' cried Sherlock Holmes abruptly. ‘This grows serious!' he observed, as we drove to Scotland Yard. ‘These men have got hold of Melas again. He is a man of no physical courage, as they are well aware from their experience the other night. This villain was able to terrorize him the instant that he got into his presence. No doubt they want his professional services; but, having used him, they may be inclined to punish him for what they will regard as his treachery.'

Our hope was that by taking train we might get to Beckenham as soon as, or sooner than, the carriage. On reaching Scotland Yard, however, it was more than an hour before we could get Inspector Gregson and comply with the legal formalities which would enable us to enter the house. It was a quarter to ten before we reached London Bridge, and half past before the four of us alighted on the Beckenham platform. A drive of half a mile brought us to The Myrtles – a large, dark house, standing back from the road in its own grounds. Here we dismissed our cab, and made our way up the drive together.

‘The windows are all dark,' remarked the inspector. ‘The house seems deserted.'

‘Our birds are flown and the nest empty,' said Holmes.

‘Why do you say so?'

‘A carriage heavily loaded with luggage has passed out during the last hour.'

The inspector laughed. ‘I saw the wheel-tracks in the light of the gate-lamp, but where does the luggage come in?'

‘You may have observed the same wheel-tracks going the other way. But the outward-bound ones were very much deeper – so much so that we can say for a certainty that there was a very considerable weight on the carriage.'

‘You get a trifle beyond me there,' said the inspector, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It will not be an easy door to force. But we will try if we cannot make someone hear us.'

He hammered loudly at the knocker and pulled at the bell, but without any success. Holmes had slipped away, but he came back in a few minutes.

‘I have a window open,' said he.

‘It is a mercy that you are on the side of the force, and not against it, Mr Holmes,' remarked the inspector, as he noted the clever way in which my friend had forced back the catch. ‘Well, I think that, under the circumstances, we may enter without waiting for an invitation.'

One after the other we made our way into a large apartment, which was evidently that in which Mr Melas had found himself. The inspector had lit his lantern, and by its light we could see the two doors, the curtain, the lamp and the suit of Japanese mail as he had described them. On the table stood two glasses, an empty brandy bottle, and the remains of a meal.

‘What is that?' asked Holmes suddenly.

We all stood still and listened. A low, moaning sound was coming from somewhere above our heads. Holmes rushed to the door and out into the hall. The dismal noise came from upstairs. He dashed up, the inspector and I at his heels, while his brother, Mycroft, followed as quickly as his great bulk would permit.

Three doors faced us upon the second floor, and it was from the
central of these that the sinister sounds were issuing, sinking sometimes into a dull mumble and rising again into a shrill whine. It was locked, but the key was on the outside. Holmes flung open the door and rushed in, but he was out again in an instant with his hand to his throat.

‘It's charcoal!' he cried. ‘Give it time. It will clear.'

Peering in, we could see that the only light in the room came from a dull, blue flame, which flickered from a small brass tripod in the centre. It threw a livid, unnatural circle upon the floor, while in the shadows beyond we saw the vague loom of two figures which crouched against the wall. From the open door there reeked a horrible, poisonous exhalation, which set us gasping and coughing. Holmes rushed to the top of the stairs to draw in the fresh air, and then, dashing into the room, he threw up the window and hurled the brazen tripod out into the garden.

‘We can enter in a minute,' he gasped, darting out again. ‘Where is a candle? I doubt if we could strike a match in that atmosphere. Hold the light at the door and we shall get them out, Mycroft. Now!'

With a rush we got to the poisoned men and dragged them out on to the landing. Both of them were blue-lipped and insensible, with swollen, congested faces and protruding eyes. Indeed, so distorted were their features that, save for his black beard and stout figure, we might have failed to recognize in one of them the Greek interpreter who had parted from us only a few hours before at the Diogenes Club. His hands and feet were securely strapped together and he bore over one eye the mark of a violent blow. The other, who was secured in a similar fashion, was a tall man in the last stage of emaciation, with several strips of sticking-plaster arranged in a grotesque pattern over his face. He had ceased to moan as we laid him down, and a glance showed me that for him, at least, our aid had come too late. Mr Melas, however, still lived, and in less than an hour, with the aid of ammonia and brandy, I had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes, and of knowing that my hand had drawn him back from the dark valley in which all paths meet.

It was a simple story which he had to tell, and one which did but confirm our own deductions. His visitor on entering his rooms had
drawn a life-preserver
²⁷
from his sleeve, and had so impressed him with the fear of instant and inevitable death, that he had kidnapped him for the second time. Indeed, it was almost mesmeric the effect which this giggling ruffian had produced upon the unfortunate linguist, for he could not speak of him save with trembling hands and a blanched cheek. He had been taken swiftly to Beckenham, and had acted as interpreter in a second interview, even more dramatic than the first, in which the two Englishmen had menaced their prisoner with instant death if he did not comply with their demands. Finally, finding him proof against every threat, they hurled him back into his prison, and after reproaching Melas with his treachery, which appeared from the newspaper advertisements, they had stunned him with a blow from a stick, and he remembered nothing more until he found us bending over him.