DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her
voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I
threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my
pigments and wig. Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a
disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in
the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the
window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted
upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which
was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from
the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the
window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would
have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up
the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my
relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I
was arrested as his murderer.

"I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was
determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my
preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly
anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a
moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried
scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear."

"That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes.

"Good God! What a week she must have spent!"

"The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet,
"and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a
letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of
his, who forgot all about it for some days."

"That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of
it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?"

"Many times; but what was a fine to me?"

"It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are to
hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone."

"I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take."

"In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may
be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am
sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having
cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results."

"I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows
and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to
Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast."






THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE

I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning
after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of
the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown,
a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled
morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the
couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very
seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and
cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat
of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner
for the purpose of examination.

"You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you."

"Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my
results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb
in the direction of the old hat--"but there are points in connection
with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of
instruction."

I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his
crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were
thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely
as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it--that
it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery
and the punishment of some crime."

"No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Only one of
those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four
million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a
few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of
humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to
take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be
striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had
experience of such."

"So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have
added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime."

"Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler
papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the
adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that
this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know

entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her

voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I

threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my

pigments and wig. Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a

disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in

the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the

window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted

upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which

was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from

the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the

window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would

have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up

the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my

relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I

was arrested as his murderer.

"I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was

determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my

preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly

anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a

moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried

scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear."

"That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes.

"Good God! What a week she must have spent!"

"The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet,

"and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a

letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of

his, who forgot all about it for some days."

"That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of

it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?"

"Many times; but what was a fine to me?"

"It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are to

hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone."

"I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take."

"In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may

be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am

sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having

cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results."

"I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows

and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to

Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast."

THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE

I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning

after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of

the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown,

a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled

morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the

couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very

seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and

cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat

of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner

for the purpose of examination.

"You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you."

"Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my

results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb

in the direction of the old hat--"but there are points in connection

with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of

instruction."

I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his

crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were

thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely

as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it--that

it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery

and the punishment of some crime."

"No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Only one of

those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four

million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a

few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of

humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to

take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be

striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had

experience of such."

"So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have

added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime."

"Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler

papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the

adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that

this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know