DarqueDante/test2 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
"I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat."

"I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have
traced her. What has she been saying to you?"

"It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

"What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously.

"But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my
companion imperturbably.

"Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step
forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I
have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler."

My friend smiled.

"Holmes, the busybody!"

His smile broadened.

"Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining,"
said he. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided
draught."

"I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my
affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a
dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped swiftly forward,
seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

"See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling
the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

"He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not
quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my
grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke he picked up
the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.

"Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official
detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation,
however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from
her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson,
we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to
Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in
this matter."

It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his
excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over
with notes and figures.

"I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To determine
its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices
of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income,
which at the time of the wife's death was little short of £1100, is
now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750.
Each daughter can claim an income of £250, in case of marriage. It is
evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would
have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to
a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since
it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in
the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious
for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are
interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall
call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if
you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an
excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into
knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead,
where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five
miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a
bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and
wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and
the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at
least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the
spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My
companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat
pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried
in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on
the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

"Look there!" said he.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening
into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there
jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

"Stoke Moran?" said he.

"Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the
driver.

"There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where
we are going."

"I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat."

"I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have

traced her. What has she been saying to you?"

"It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

"What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously.

"But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my

companion imperturbably.

"Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step

forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I

have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler."

My friend smiled.

"Holmes, the busybody!"

His smile broadened.

"Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining,"

said he. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided

draught."

"I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my

affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a

dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped swiftly forward,

seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

"See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling

the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

"He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not

quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my

grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke he picked up

the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.

"Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official

detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation,

however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from

her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson,

we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to

Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in

this matter."

It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his

excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over

with notes and figures.

"I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To determine

its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices

of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income,

which at the time of the wife's death was little short of £1100, is

now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750.

Each daughter can claim an income of £250, in case of marriage. It is

evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would

have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to

a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since

it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in

the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious

for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are

interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall

call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if

you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an

excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into

knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead,

where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five

miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a

bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and

wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and

the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at

least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the

spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My

companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat

pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried

in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on

the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

"Look there!" said he.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening

into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there

jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

"Stoke Moran?" said he.

"Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the

driver.

"There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where

we are going."