DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well
have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family
have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can
understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the
first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep
easy at night until it is recovered."

"Then the page we have seen--"

"Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the
pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning to them.
Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the
country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister
result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into
this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw
has in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing
more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and
let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the
still more miserable ways of our fellow-men."

It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued
brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city.
Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.

"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, I
foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young
Openshaw's."

"What steps will you take?" I asked.

"It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I
may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

"You will not go there first?"

"No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid
will bring up your coffee."

As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and
glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill
to my heart.

"Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

"Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was it
done?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

"My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near
Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:

"Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H
Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a
splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and
stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was
quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given,
and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually
recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as
it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John
Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that
he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo
Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his
path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for
river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there
can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an
unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the
attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside
landing-stages."

We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken
than I had ever seen him.

"That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty
feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal
matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand
upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should
send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced
about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his
sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin
hands.

"They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could they
have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line
to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a
night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in
the long run. I am going out now!"

"To the police?"

"No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take
the flies, but not before."

All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the
evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not
come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking
pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece
from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long
draught of water.

"You are hungry," I remarked.

disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well

have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family

have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can

understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the

first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep

easy at night until it is recovered."

"Then the page we have seen--"

"Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the

pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning to them.

Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the

country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister

result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into

this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw

has in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing

more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and

let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the

still more miserable ways of our fellow-men."

It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued

brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city.

Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.

"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, I

foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young

Openshaw's."

"What steps will you take?" I asked.

"It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I

may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

"You will not go there first?"

"No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid

will bring up your coffee."

As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and

glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill

to my heart.

"Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

"Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was it

done?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

"My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near

Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:

"Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H

Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a

splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and

stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was

quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given,

and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually

recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as

it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John

Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that

he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo

Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his

path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for

river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there

can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an

unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the

attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside

landing-stages."

We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken

than I had ever seen him.

"That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty

feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal

matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand

upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should

send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced

about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his

sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin

hands.

"They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could they

have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line

to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a

night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in

the long run. I am going out now!"

"To the police?"

"No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take

the flies, but not before."

All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the

evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not

come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking

pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece

from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long

draught of water.

"You are hungry," I remarked.