DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
sots, as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my
life would not have been worth an hour's purchase; for I have used it
before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it
has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back
of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which could tell
some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless
nights."

"What! You do not mean bodies?"

"Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 for every
poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest
murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair
has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here."
He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a
signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance,
followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses'
hoofs.

"Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the
gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side
lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

"If I can be of use."

"Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more
so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."

"The Cedars?"

"Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I
conduct the inquiry."

"Where is it, then?"

"Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us."

"But I am all in the dark."

"Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump up here.
All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a crown. Look out
for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!"

He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the
endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened
gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge,
with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay
another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only
by the heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and
shouts of some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting
slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and
there through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with
his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in
thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest
might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to
break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several
miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of
suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and
lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that
he is acting for the best.

"You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It makes you
quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is a great thing
for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not
over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little
woman to-night when she meets me at the door."

"You forget that I know nothing about it."

"I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we
get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get
nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't
get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case clearly and
concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is
dark to me."

"Proceed, then."

"Some years ago--to be definite, in May, 1884--there came to Lee a
gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of
money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and
lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the
neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer,
by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was
interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the
morning, returning by the 5.14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr.
St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate
habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is
popular with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the
present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to
£88 10s., while he has £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and
Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money
troubles have been weighing upon his mind.

"Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than
usual, remarking before he started that he had two important
commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a
box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a
telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to
the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had

sots, as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my

life would not have been worth an hour's purchase; for I have used it

before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it

has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back

of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which could tell

some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless

nights."

"What! You do not mean bodies?"

"Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 for every

poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest

murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair

has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here."

He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a

signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance,

followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses'

hoofs.

"Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the

gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side

lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

"If I can be of use."

"Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more

so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."

"The Cedars?"

"Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I

conduct the inquiry."

"Where is it, then?"

"Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us."

"But I am all in the dark."

"Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump up here.

All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a crown. Look out

for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!"

He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the

endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened

gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge,

with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay

another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only

by the heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and

shouts of some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting

slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and

there through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with

his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in

thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest

might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to

break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several

miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of

suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and

lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that

he is acting for the best.

"You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It makes you

quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is a great thing

for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not

over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little

woman to-night when she meets me at the door."

"You forget that I know nothing about it."

"I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we

get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get

nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't

get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case clearly and

concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is

dark to me."

"Proceed, then."

"Some years ago--to be definite, in May, 1884--there came to Lee a

gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of

money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and

lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the

neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer,

by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was

interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the

morning, returning by the 5.14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr.

St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate

habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is

popular with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the

present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to

£88 10s., while he has £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and

Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money

troubles have been weighing upon his mind.

"Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than

usual, remarking before he started that he had two important

commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a

box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a

telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to

the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had