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alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat grass! Foulonwho told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had no breadto give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass, when thesebreasts were dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon! O Heaven oursuffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on myknees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and brothers,and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the head of Foulon,Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and soul of Foulon, RendFoulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that grass may grow fromhim! With these cries, numbers of the women, lashed into blind frenzy,whirled about, striking and tearing at their own friends until theydropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved by the menbelonging to them from being trampled under foot. | 1Dickens |
attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard.”Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way,would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I amsomewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gainedproperty under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the AlphaInn, near the Museum—we are to be found in the Museum itself during theday, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name,instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few penceevery week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence wereduly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you,sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” | 2Doyle |
think for you; that’s enough for you. If I want you, I know where tofind you; I don’t want you to find me. Now I won’t have it. I won’tThe two men looked at one another as Mr. Jaggers waved them behindagain, and humbly fell back and were heard no more.“And now _you_!” said Mr. Jaggers, suddenly stopping, and turning onthe two women with the shawls, from whom the three men had meeklyseparated,—“Oh! Amelia, is it?”“And do you remember,” retorted Mr. Jaggers, “that but for me youwouldn’t be here and couldn’t be here?”“O yes, sir!” exclaimed both women together. “Lord bless you, sir, well“Then why,” said Mr. Jaggers, “do you come here?”“My Bill, sir!” the crying woman pleaded.“Now, I tell you what!” said Mr. Jaggers. “Once for all. If you don’tknow that your Bill’s in good hands, I know it. And if you come herebothering about your Bill, I’ll make an example of both your Bill and | 1Dickens |
could have got this thing?”“I can’t think. My mind is gone. For heaven’s sake help me!”“Yes, I will help you. I’ll help you to understand just where you areand how you got there. I’d like you to know before you die.”“Give me something to ease my pain.”“Painful, is it? Yes, the coolies used to do some squealing towards theend. Takes you as cramp, I fancy.”“Yes, yes; it is cramp.”“Well, you can hear what I say, anyhow. Listen now! Can you rememberany unusual incident in your life just about the time your symptoms“I’m too ill to think.”“Well, then, I’ll help you. Did anything come by post?”“A box by chance?”“Listen, Holmes!” There was a sound as if he was shaking the dying man,and it was all that I could do to hold myself quiet in my hiding-place.“You must hear me. You _shall_ hear me. Do you remember a box—an ivorybox? It came on Wednesday. You opened it—do you remember?” | 2Doyle |
been presented in the worst light at his trial, who had since brokenprison and had been tried again, who had returned from transportationunder a life sentence, and who had occasioned the death of the man whowas the cause of his arrest.As we returned towards the setting sun we had yesterday left behind us,and as the stream of our hopes seemed all running back, I told him howgrieved I was to think that he had come home for my sake.“Dear boy,” he answered, “I’m quite content to take my chance. I’veseen my boy, and he can be a gentleman without me.”No. I had thought about that, while we had been there side by side. No.Apart from any inclinations of my own, I understood Wemmick’s hint now.I foresaw that, being convicted, his possessions would be forfeited to“Lookee here, dear boy,” said he “It’s best as a gentleman should notbe knowed to belong to me now. Only come to see me as if you come by | 1Dickens |
me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him.“‘Marquis,’ said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide, andhis right hand raised, ‘in the days when all these things are to beanswered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, toanswer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign thatI do it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for,I summon your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for themseparately. I mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do“Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with hisforefinger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with thefinger yet raised, and as it dropped, he dropped with it, and I laid him“When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her raving | 1Dickens |
and was refused. The trial came on at once, and, when he was put to thebar, he was seated in a chair. No objection was made to my gettingclose to the dock, on the outside of it, and holding the hand that hestretched forth to me.The trial was very short and very clear. Such things as could be saidfor him were said,—how he had taken to industrious habits, and hadthriven lawfully and reputably. But nothing could unsay the fact thathe had returned, and was there in presence of the Judge and Jury. Itwas impossible to try him for that, and do otherwise than find himAt that time, it was the custom (as I learnt from my terribleexperience of that Sessions) to devote a concluding day to the passingof Sentences, and to make a finishing effect with the Sentence ofDeath. But for the indelible picture that my remembrance now holdsbefore me, I could scarcely believe, even as I write these words, that | 1Dickens |
and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair hometogether, and to rest in her bosom.“Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? Iam very ignorant, and it troubles me--just a little.”“Tell me what it is.”“I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom Ilove very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in afarmer’s house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knowsnothing of my fate--for I cannot write--and if I could, how should Itell her! It is better as it is.”“Yes, yes: better as it is.”“What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am stillthinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me somuch support, is this:--If the Republic really does good to the poor,and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may | 1Dickens |
placid and sheltered, inviting the storm-tossed craft to tack into itfor rest and protection.Then come the sudden swirl round of the wind, the blistering gale fromthe south-west, the dragging anchor, the lee shore, and the last battlein the creaming breakers. The wise mariner stands far out from thatOn the land side our surroundings were as sombre as on the sea. It wasa country of rolling moors, lonely and dun-coloured, with an occasionalchurch tower to mark the site of some old-world village. In everydirection upon these moors there were traces of some vanished racewhich had passed utterly away, and left as its sole record strangemonuments of stone, irregular mounds which contained the burned ashesof the dead, and curious earthworks which hinted at prehistoric strife.The glamour and mystery of the place, with its sinister atmosphere offorgotten nations, appealed to the imagination of my friend, and hespent much of his time in long walks and solitary meditations upon the | 2Doyle |
clear that in spite of Holmes’s ruse we had no proof that Barrymore had not been in London all the time. Suppose that it were so—suppose that the same man had been the last who had seen Sir Charles alive, and the first to dog the new heir when he returned to England. What then? Was he the agent of others or had he some sinister design of his own? What interest could he have in persecuting the Baskerville family? I thought of the strange warning clipped out of the leading article of the _Times_. Was that his work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent upon counteracting his schemes? The only conceivable motive was that which had been suggested by Sir Henry, that if the family could be scared away a comfortable and permanent home would be secured for the Barrymores. But surely such an | 2Doyle |
“The cunning dog has covered his tracks,” said he. “He has left nothingto incriminate him. His dangerous correspondence has been destroyed orremoved. This is our last chance.”It was a small tin cash-box which stood upon the writing-desk. Holmespried it open with his chisel. Several rolls of paper were within,covered with figures and calculations, without any note to show to whatthey referred. The recurring words, “water pressure” and “pressure tothe square inch” suggested some possible relation to a submarine.Holmes tossed them all impatiently aside. There only remained anenvelope with some small newspaper slips inside it. He shook them outon the table, and at once I saw by his eager face that his hopes had“What’s this, Watson? Eh? What’s this? Record of a series of messagesin the advertisements of a paper. _Daily Telegraph_ agony column by theprint and paper. Right-hand top corner of a page. No dates—but messagesarrange themselves. This must be the first: | 2Doyle |
toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father’shouse but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants!No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed orderof the Creator, never reverses his transformations. “If thou be changedinto this shape by the will of God,” say the seers to the enchanted, inthe wise Arabian stories, “then remain so! But, if thou wear thisform through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!” Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along.As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough upa long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of facesare thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward.So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, thatin many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of thehands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in | 1Dickens |
feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always askeen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help thetrespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness’ sake don’t youever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it’sas much as your life is worth.’“The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to lookout of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. It was abeautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house wassilvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in thepeaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something wasmoving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into themoonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf,tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting | 2Doyle |
this note aloud, “to where his wife resides?”Scarcely noticing as yet, in what a curiously reserved and mechanicalway Defarge spoke, Mr. Lorry put on his hat and they went down into thecourtyard. There, they found two women; one, knitting.“Madame Defarge, surely!” said Mr. Lorry, who had left her in exactlythe same attitude some seventeen years ago.“It is she,” observed her husband.“Does Madame go with us?” inquired Mr. Lorry, seeing that she moved as“Yes. That she may be able to recognise the faces and know the persons.It is for their safety.”Beginning to be struck by Defarge’s manner, Mr. Lorry looked dubiouslyat him, and led the way. Both the women followed; the second woman beingThey passed through the intervening streets as quickly as they might,ascended the staircase of the new domicile, were admitted by Jerry,and found Lucie weeping, alone. She was thrown into a transport by thetidings Mr. Lorry gave her of her husband, and clasped the hand that | 1Dickens |
deafened. She started to her feet and sprang across the little brook in* * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * *and had just time to see the Lion and the Unicorn rise to their feet,with angry looks at being interrupted in their feast, before shedropped to her knees, and put her hands over her ears, vainly trying toshut out the dreadful uproar.“If _that_ doesn’t ‘drum them out of town,’” she thought to herself,“It’s my own Invention”After a while the noise seemed gradually to die away, till all was deadsilence, and Alice lifted up her head in some alarm. There was no oneto be seen, and her first thought was that she must have been dreamingabout the Lion and the Unicorn and those queer Anglo-Saxon Messengers.However, there was the great dish still lying at her feet, on which shehad tried to cut the plum-cake, “So I wasn’t dreaming, after all,” she | 0Caroll |
his escape. Boots, shirt, cap—it was all Sir Henry’s. The tragedy was still black enough, but this man had at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I told Holmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy. “Then the clothes have been the poor devil’s death,” said he. “It is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some article of Sir Henry’s—the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability—and so ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?” “To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture by screaming wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long way after he knew the animal was on his track. How did | 2Doyle |
head. I acknowledged his attention incoherently, and began to thinkthis was a dream.“Dear me!” said Mr. Pocket, Junior. “This door sticks so!”As he was fast making jam of his fruit by wrestling with the door whilethe paper-bags were under his arms, I begged him to allow me to holdthem. He relinquished them with an agreeable smile, and combated withthe door as if it were a wild beast. It yielded so suddenly at last,that he staggered back upon me, and I staggered back upon the oppositedoor, and we both laughed. But still I felt as if my eyes must startout of my head, and as if this must be a dream.“Pray come in,” said Mr. Pocket, Junior. “Allow me to lead the way. Iam rather bare here, but I hope you’ll be able to make out tolerablywell till Monday. My father thought you would get on more agreeablythrough to-morrow with me than with him, and might like to take a walk | 1Dickens |
overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar“I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our client,flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. “If you can do nothingbetter than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.”“No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which hehad half risen. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for the world. It ismost refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my sayingso, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did youtake when you found the card upon the door?”“I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at theoffices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it.Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on theground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of | 2Doyle |
of the four thousand pounds; but it appeared to make the sum of moneymore to him, and he had a manifest relish in insisting on its beingThis account gave me great joy, as it perfected the only good thing Ihad done. I asked Joe whether he had heard if any of the otherrelations had any legacies?“Miss Sarah,” said Joe, “she have twenty-five pound perannium fur tobuy pills, on account of being bilious. Miss Georgiana, she have twentypound down. Mrs.—what’s the name of them wild beasts with humps, old“Camels?” said I, wondering why he could possibly want to know.Joe nodded. “Mrs. Camels,” by which I presently understood he meantCamilla, “she have five pound fur to buy rushlights to put her inspirits when she wake up in the night.”The accuracy of these recitals was sufficiently obvious to me, to giveme great confidence in Joe’s information. “And now,” said Joe, “youain’t that strong yet, old chap, that you can take in more nor one | 1Dickens |
There were grave events afoot, as the sequel showed, and the coaxing ofScott Eccles to Wisteria Lodge had some connection with them.”“But what possible connection?”“Let us take it link by link. There is, on the face of it, somethingunnatural about this strange and sudden friendship between the youngSpaniard and Scott Eccles. It was the former who forced the pace. Hecalled upon Eccles at the other end of London on the very day after hefirst met him, and he kept in close touch with him until he got himdown to Esher. Now, what did he want with Eccles? What could Ecclessupply? I see no charm in the man. He is not particularlyintelligent—not a man likely to be congenial to a quick-witted Latin.Why, then, was he picked out from all the other people whom Garcia metas particularly suited to his purpose? Has he any one outstandingquality? I say that he has. He is the very type of conventional British | 2Doyle |
curiously employed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellent telescope, with which he lies upon the roof of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of catching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confine his energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a grave without the consent of the next of kin because he dug up the Neolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our lives from being monotonous and gives a little comic relief where it is badly needed. And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict, the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, let me end on that which is most important and tell you more about the Barrymores, and especially about the surprising development | 2Doyle |
“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. Aninspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit ofstanding on it, which of course would be necessary in order that heshould reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk,and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts whichmay have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner wasobviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safeupon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know thesteps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard thecreature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly litthe light and attacked it.”“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the | 2Doyle |
much better cause, making the most strenuous exertions to compress itwithin those limits. Again I thanked him and apologised, and again hesaid in the cheerfullest manner, “Not at all, I am sure!” and resumed.“There appeared upon the scene—say at the races, or the public balls,or anywhere else you like—a certain man, who made love to MissHavisham. I never saw him (for this happened five-and-twenty years ago,before you and I were, Handel), but I have heard my father mention thathe was a showy man, and the kind of man for the purpose. But that hewas not to be, without ignorance or prejudice, mistaken for agentleman, my father most strongly asseverates; because it is aprinciple of his that no man who was not a true gentleman at heart everwas, since the world began, a true gentleman in manner. He says, novarnish can hide the grain of the wood; and that the more varnish you | 1Dickens |
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protectedby U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademarklicense, especially commercial redistribution.THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSEPLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORKTo protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “ProjectGutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the FullProject Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online atSection 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree toand accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by allthe terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return ordestroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your | 0Caroll |
course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I knowthat each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other’s soul,than I was in the souls of both.“I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a manwinning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see himwinning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by thelight of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him,fore-most of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name,with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair tolook upon, with not a trace of this day’s disfigurement--and I hear himtell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a | 1Dickens |
who fainted on Brixton bus’—she does not interest me. ‘Every day myheart longs—’ Bleat, Watson—unmitigated bleat! Ah, this is a littlemore possible. Listen to this: ‘Be patient. Will find some sure meansof communications. Meanwhile, this column. G.’ That is two days afterMrs. Warren’s lodger arrived. It sounds plausible, does it not? Themysterious one could understand English, even if he could not print it.Let us see if we can pick up the trace again. Yes, here we are—threedays later. ‘Am making successful arrangements. Patience and prudence.The clouds will pass. G.’ Nothing for a week after that. Then comessomething much more definite: ‘The path is clearing. If I find chancesignal message remember code agreed—One A, two B, and so on. You willhear soon. G.’ That was in yesterday’s paper, and there is nothing into-day’s. It’s all very appropriate to Mrs. Warren’s lodger. If we waita little, Watson, I don’t doubt that the affair will grow more | 2Doyle |
attached to it. He opened this, carefully, on his knee, and it containeda very little quantity of hair: not more than one or two long goldenhairs, which he had, in some old day, wound off upon his finger.He took her hair into his hand again, and looked closely at it. “It isthe same. How can it be! When was it! How was it!”As the concentrated expression returned to his forehead, he seemed tobecome conscious that it was in hers too. He turned her full to thelight, and looked at her.“She had laid her head upon my shoulder, that night when I was summonedout--she had a fear of my going, though I had none--and when I wasbrought to the North Tower they found these upon my sleeve. ‘You willleave me them? They can never help me to escape in the body, though theymay in the spirit.’ Those were the words I said. I remember them very | 1Dickens |
monsieur; how is he called?--in a little wig--Lorry--of the bank ofTellson and Company--over to England.”“Such is the fact,” repeated Defarge.“Very interesting remembrances!” said the spy. “I have known DoctorManette and his daughter, in England.”“You don’t hear much about them now?” said the spy.“In effect,” madame struck in, looking up from her work and her littlesong, “we never hear about them. We received the news of their safearrival, and perhaps another letter, or perhaps two; but, since then,they have gradually taken their road in life--we, ours--and we have held“Perfectly so, madame,” replied the spy. “She is going to be married.”“Going?” echoed madame. “She was pretty enough to have been married longago. You English are cold, it seems to me.”“Oh! You know I am English.”“I perceive your tongue is,” returned madame; “and what the tongue is, Isuppose the man is.”He did not take the identification as a compliment; but he made the best | 1Dickens |
shoulder, so I turned round and looked also. The blind was up and thewindow shut, but I could just make out the bushes on the lawn, and itseemed to me for a moment that I saw something moving among them. Icouldn’t even say if it was man or animal, but I just thought there wassomething there. When I asked him what he was looking at, he told methat he had the same feeling. That is all that I can say.”“Did you not investigate?”“No; the matter passed as unimportant.”“You left them, then, without any premonition of evil?”“I am not clear how you came to hear the news so early this morning.”“I am an early riser and generally take a walk before breakfast. Thismorning I had hardly started when the doctor in his carriage overtookme. He told me that old Mrs. Porter had sent a boy down with an urgentmessage. I sprang in beside him and we drove on. When we got there we | 2Doyle |
perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book andtook out a note.“‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashionuntil his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the whitecreases of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies half their salarybeforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey“It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtfula man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was agreat convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about thewhole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I“‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I.“‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles onthe far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dearyoung lady, and the dearest old country-house.’“‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.’ | 2Doyle |
“The same reasons that bring you, I expect,” said Gregson. “How you goton to it I can’t imagine.”“Different threads, but leading up to the same tangle. I’ve been taking“Yes, from that window. They broke off in the middle. We came over tosee the reason. But since it is safe in your hands I see no object in“Wait a bit!” cried Gregson eagerly. “I’ll do you this justice, Mr.Holmes, that I was never in a case yet that I didn’t feel stronger forhaving you on my side. There’s only the one exit to these flats, so we“Well, well, we score over you for once, Mr. Holmes. You must give usbest this time.” He struck his stick sharply upon the ground, on whicha cabman, his whip in his hand, sauntered over from a four-wheelerwhich stood on the far side of the street. “May I introduce you to Mr.Sherlock Holmes?” he said to the cabman. “This is Mr. Leverton, of | 2Doyle |
her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. Ican only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my positionwhen, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened anoccupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door.My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, tothis ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. Thediscovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to thefloor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there asa bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed.The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled itwith my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply ofcreatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track.The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be | 2Doyle |
letter, and read it. These were its contents:“Prison of the Abbaye, Paris.“June 21, 1792. “MONSIEUR HERETOFORE THE MARQUIS.“After having long been in danger of my life at the hands of thevillage, I have been seized, with great violence and indignity, andbrought a long journey on foot to Paris. On the road I have suffered agreat deal. Nor is that all; my house has been destroyed--razed to the“The crime for which I am imprisoned, Monsieur heretofore the Marquis,and for which I shall be summoned before the tribunal, and shall lose mylife (without your so generous help), is, they tell me, treason againstthe majesty of the people, in that I have acted against them for anemigrant. It is in vain I represent that I have acted for them, and notagainst, according to your commands. It is in vain I represent that,before the sequestration of emigrant property, I had remitted theimposts they had ceased to pay; that I had collected no rent; that I had | 1Dickens |
“Now lookee here,” he said, “the question being whether you’re to belet to live. You know what a file is?”“And you know what wittles is?”After each question he tilted me over a little more, so as to give me agreater sense of helplessness and danger.“You get me a file.” He tilted me again. “And you get me wittles.” Hetilted me again. “You bring ’em both to me.” He tilted me again. “OrI’ll have your heart and liver out.” He tilted me again.I was dreadfully frightened, and so giddy that I clung to him with bothhands, and said, “If you would kindly please to let me keep upright,sir, perhaps I shouldn’t be sick, and perhaps I could attend more.”He gave me a most tremendous dip and roll, so that the church jumpedover its own weathercock. Then, he held me by the arms, in an uprightposition on the top of the stone, and went on in these fearful terms:— | 1Dickens |
make it? Twenty. So did I. That should mean T. AT—that’s intelligibleenough. Another T. Surely this is the beginning of a second word. Now,then—TENTA. Dead stop. That can’t be all, Watson? ATTENTA gives nosense. Nor is it any better as three words AT, TEN, TA, unless T. A.are a person’s initials. There it goes again! What’s that? ATTE—why, itis the same message over again. Curious, Watson, very curious. Now heis off once more! AT—why he is repeating it for the third time. ATTENTAthree times! How often will he repeat it? No, that seems to be thefinish. He has withdrawn from the window. What do you make of it,“A cipher message, Holmes.”My companion gave a sudden chuckle of comprehension. “And not a veryobscure cipher, Watson,” said he. “Why, of course, it is Italian! The Ameans that it is addressed to a woman. ‘Beware! Beware! Beware!’ How’s“I believe you have hit it.” | 2Doyle |
"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together,as he looked about him. "I was bred in this place. I wasThe Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch,though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared stillpresent to the old man's sense of feeling. He was consciousof a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connectedwith a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what isthat upon your cheek?"Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice,that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit."Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervour; "I could"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observedthe Ghost. "Let us go on."They walked along the road, Scrooge recognising everygate, and post, and tree; until a little market-town appearedin the distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river.Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards them | 1Dickens |
on Bosworth Field, and in the greatest agonies at Glastonbury. Orlicksometimes growled, “Beat it out, beat it out,—Old Clem! With a clinkfor the stout,—Old Clem!” I thought he had been drinking, but he wasThus, we came to the village. The way by which we approached it took uspast the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised to find—it beingeleven o’clock—in a state of commotion, with the door wide open, andunwonted lights that had been hastily caught up and put down scatteredabout. Mr. Wopsle dropped in to ask what was the matter (surmising thata convict had been taken), but came running out in a great hurry.“There’s something wrong,” said he, without stopping, “up at yourplace, Pip. Run all!”“What is it?” I asked, keeping up with him. So did Orlick, at my side.“I can’t quite understand. The house seems to have been violentlyentered when Joe Gargery was out. Supposed by convicts. Somebody has | 1Dickens |
First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from London in order to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I have already explained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that the test was worthless and that we have no proof one way or the other. I told Sir Henry how the matter stood, and he at once, in his downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether he had received the telegram himself. Barrymore said that he had. “Did the boy deliver it into your own hands?” asked Sir Henry. Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time. “No,” said he, “I was in the box-room at the time, and my wife brought it up to me.” “Did you answer it yourself?” “No; I told my wife what to answer and she went down to write In the evening he recurred to the subject of his own accord. | 2Doyle |
on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmastergood-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drovegaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels dashing thehoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might havewithered," said the Ghost. "But she had a large heart!""So she had," cried Scrooge. "You're right. I will notgainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!""She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think,"One child," Scrooge returned."True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew!"Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly,Although they had but that moment left the school behindthem, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city,where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowycarts and coaches battled for the way, and all the strife andtumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, bythe dressing of the shops, that here too it was Christmas | 1Dickens |
boldly reading the Lord’s Prayer backwards for a great number of years,and performing many other potent spells for compelling the Evil One, nosooner beheld him in his terrors than he took to his noble heels.The shining Bull’s Eye of the Court was gone, or it would have been themark for a hurricane of national bullets. It had never been a goodeye to see with--had long had the mote in it of Lucifer’s pride,Sardanapalus’s luxury, and a mole’s blindness--but it had droppedout and was gone. The Court, from that exclusive inner circle to itsoutermost rotten ring of intrigue, corruption, and dissimulation, wasall gone together. Royalty was gone; had been besieged in its Palace and“suspended,” when the last tidings came over.The August of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two wascome, and Monseigneur was by this time scattered far and wide.As was natural, the head-quarters and great gathering-place ofMonseigneur, in London, was Tellson’s Bank. Spirits are supposed to | 1Dickens |
and today they have sneaked one of the black. Well, have you got it? Speak out, man, and don’t stand staring!” An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene. “No, sir; I have made inquiry all over the hotel, but I can hear no word of it.” “Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I’ll see the manager and tell him that I go right straight out of this hotel.” “It shall be found, sir—I promise you that if you will have a little patience it will be found.” “Mind it is, for it’s the last thing of mine that I’ll lose in this den of thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you’ll excuse my troubling you about such a trifle—” “I think it’s well worth troubling about.” “Why, you look very serious over it.” “How do you explain it?” “I just don’t attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest, | 2Doyle |
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long asall references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hopethat you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promotingfree access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping theProject Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easilycomply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in thesame format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License whenyou share it without charge with others.1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also governwhat you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries arein a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of thisagreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any | 2Doyle |
“By train from Waterloo.”“It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that youmay be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely.”“That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.”“I shall see you at Horsham, then?”“No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it.”“Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as tothe box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular.”He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind stillscreamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. Thisstrange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the madelements—blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale—and now tohave been reabsorbed by them once more.Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk | 2Doyle |
the level of these poor peasants, who are not content with a mere fiend dog but must needs describe him with hell-fire shooting from his mouth and eyes. Holmes would not listen to such fancies, and I am his agent. But facts are facts, and I have twice heard this crying upon the moor. Suppose that there were really some huge hound loose upon it; that would go far to explain everything. But where could such a hound lie concealed, where did it get its food, where did it come from, how was it that no one saw it by day? It must be confessed that the natural explanation offers almost as many difficulties as the other. And always, apart from the hound, there is the fact of the human agency in London, the man in the cab, and the letter which warned Sir Henry against the moor. This at least was real, but it might have been | 2Doyle |
their heads like extinguishers, and drank all that trickled down theirfaces—others upset the decanters, and drank the wine as it ran off theedges of the table—and three of them (who looked like kangaroos)scrambled into the dish of roast mutton, and began eagerly lapping upthe gravy, “just like pigs in a trough!” thought Alice.“You ought to return thanks in a neat speech,” the Red Queen said,frowning at Alice as she spoke.“We must support you, you know,” the White Queen whispered, as Alicegot up to do it, very obediently, but a little frightened.“Thank you very much,” she whispered in reply, “but I can do quite well“That wouldn’t be at all the thing,” the Red Queen said very decidedly:so Alice tried to submit to it with a good grace.(“And they _did_ push so!” she said afterwards, when she was tellingher sister the history of the feast. “You would have thought theywanted to squeeze me flat!”) | 0Caroll |
as I understand, because your new lodger remains in his rooms and youcannot see him. Why, bless you, Mrs. Warren, if I were your lodger youoften would not see me for weeks on end.”“No doubt, sir; but this is different. It frightens me, Mr. Holmes. Ican’t sleep for fright. To hear his quick step moving here and movingthere from early morning to late at night, and yet never to catch somuch as a glimpse of him—it’s more than I can stand. My husband is asnervous over it as I am, but he is out at his work all day, while I getno rest from it. What is he hiding for? What has he done? Except forthe girl, I am all alone in the house with him, and it’s more than myHolmes leaned forward and laid his long, thin fingers upon the woman’sshoulder. He had an almost hypnotic power of soothing when he wished. | 2Doyle |
been in his company and never left him all the night in question.”“Now, be careful. In what station of life is this man?”Mike looked at his cap, and looked at the floor, and looked at theceiling, and looked at the clerk, and even looked at me, beforebeginning to reply in a nervous manner, “We’ve dressed him up like—”when my guardian blustered out,—“What? You WILL, will you?”(“Spooney!” added the clerk again, with another stir.)After some helpless casting about, Mike brightened and began again:—“He is dressed like a ’spectable pieman. A sort of a pastry-cook.”“Is he here?” asked my guardian.“I left him,” said Mike, “a setting on some doorsteps round the“Take him past that window, and let me see him.”The window indicated was the office window. We all three went to it,behind the wire blind, and presently saw the client go by in anaccidental manner, with a murderous-looking tall individual, in a short | 1Dickens |
us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the “Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that Sir Charles’s nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart—so much so that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has | 2Doyle |
followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating withthem. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. Ilounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into achurch. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round tome, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.“‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’“‘What then?’ I asked.“‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’“I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was Ifound myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, andvouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting inthe secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton,bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentlemanthanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the | 2Doyle |
“I tell you it was your doing,—I tell you it was done through you,” heretorted, catching up the gun, and making a blow with the stock at thevacant air between us. “I come upon her from behind, as I come upon youto-night. _I_ giv’ it her! I left her for dead, and if there had been alimekiln as nigh her as there is now nigh you, she shouldn’t have cometo life again. But it warn’t Old Orlick as did it; it was you. You wasfavoured, and he was bullied and beat. Old Orlick bullied and beat, eh?Now you pays for it. You done it; now you pays for it.”He drank again, and became more ferocious. I saw by his tilting of thebottle that there was no great quantity left in it. I distinctlyunderstood that he was working himself up with its contents to make anend of me. I knew that every drop it held was a drop of my life. I knew | 1Dickens |
“We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,” said Jones in hisconsequential way. “Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting achase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down.”“I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,”observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily.“You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said thepolice agent loftily. “He has his own little methods, which are, if hewon’t mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic,but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to saythat once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and theAgra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official“Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the stranger withdeference. “Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first | 2Doyle |
office floor, to express that Australia was understood, for thepurposes of the figure, to be symmetrically on the opposite spot of theglobe. “If there was anything deeper,” added Wemmick, bringing his pento paper, “he’d be it.”Then, I said I supposed he had a fine business, and Wemmick said,“Ca-pi-tal!” Then I asked if there were many clerks? to which he“We don’t run much into clerks, because there’s only one Jaggers, andpeople won’t have him at second hand. There are only four of us. Wouldyou like to see ’em? You are one of us, as I may say.”I accepted the offer. When Mr. Wemmick had put all the biscuit into thepost, and had paid me my money from a cash-box in a safe, the key ofwhich safe he kept somewhere down his back and produced from hiscoat-collar like an iron-pigtail, we went upstairs. The house was darkand shabby, and the greasy shoulders that had left their mark in Mr. | 1Dickens |
madame, drawing a breath and nodding her head with a stern kind ofcoquetry, “I’ll use it!”It was remarkable; but, the taste of Saint Antoine seemed to bedecidedly opposed to a rose on the head-dress of Madame Defarge. Twomen had entered separately, and had been about to order drink, when,catching sight of that novelty, they faltered, made a pretence oflooking about as if for some friend who was not there, and went away.Nor, of those who had been there when this visitor entered, was thereone left. They had all dropped off. The spy had kept his eyes open,but had been able to detect no sign. They had lounged away in apoverty-stricken, purposeless, accidental manner, quite natural and“_John_,” thought madame, checking off her work as her fingers knitted,and her eyes looked at the stranger. “Stay long enough, and I shall knit‘BARSAD’ before you go.”“You have a husband, madame?”“Business is very bad; the people are so poor.” | 1Dickens |
morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find adoctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid acard, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table.”I took it up and glanced at it. “Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulicengineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the name, style,and abode of my morning visitor. “I regret that I have kept youwaiting,” said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You are fresh froma night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous“Oh, my night could not be called monotonous,” said he, and laughed. Helaughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in hischair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up against“Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out somewater from a caraffe.It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical | 2Doyle |
handsome man, not past the prime of life.His daughter had one of her hands drawn through his arm, as she sat byhim, and the other pressed upon it. She had drawn close to him, in herdread of the scene, and in her pity for the prisoner. Her forehead hadbeen strikingly expressive of an engrossing terror and compassionthat saw nothing but the peril of the accused. This had been so verynoticeable, so very powerfully and naturally shown, that starers whohad had no pity for him were touched by her; and the whisper went about,Jerry, the messenger, who had made his own observations, in his ownmanner, and who had been sucking the rust off his fingers in hisabsorption, stretched his neck to hear who they were. The crowd abouthim had pressed and passed the inquiry on to the nearest attendant, andfrom him it had been more slowly pressed and passed back; at last it got | 1Dickens |
sunburned fellow, who looks as if he would be more at home in afarmers’ inn than in a fashionable hotel. A hard, fierce man, I shouldthink, and one whom I should be sorry to offend.”Already the mystery began to define itself, as figures grow clearerwith the lifting of a fog. Here was this good and pious lady pursuedfrom place to place by a sinister and unrelenting figure. She fearedhim, or she would not have fled from Lausanne. He had still followed.Sooner or later he would overtake her. Had he already overtaken her?Was _that_ the secret of her continued silence? Could the good peoplewho were her companions not screen her from his violence or hisblackmail? What horrible purpose, what deep design, lay behind thislong pursuit? There was the problem which I had to solve.To Holmes I wrote showing how rapidly and surely I had got down to theroots of the matter. In reply I had a telegram asking for a description | 2Doyle |
stopped. It was so thick that nothing could be seen, and we had nodifficulty in lowering West’s body on to the train. That was the end ofthe matter so far as I was concerned.”“He said nothing, but he had caught me once with his keys, and I thinkthat he suspected. I read in his eyes that he suspected. As you know,he never held up his head again.”There was silence in the room. It was broken by Mycroft Holmes.“Can you not make reparation? It would ease your conscience, and“What reparation can I make?”“Where is Oberstein with the papers?”“I do not know.”“Did he give you no address?”“He said that letters to the Hôtel du Louvre, Paris, would eventually“Then reparation is still within your power,” said Sherlock Holmes.“I will do anything I can. I owe this fellow no particular good-will.He has been my ruin and my downfall.”“Here are paper and pen. Sit at this desk and write to my dictation. | 2Doyle |
last: “a hill _can’t_ be a valley, you know. That would be nonsense—”The Red Queen shook her head, “You may call it ‘nonsense’ if you like,”she said, “but _I’ve_ heard nonsense, compared with which that would beas sensible as a dictionary!”Alice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queen’s tone that shewas a _little_ offended: and they walked on in silence till they got tothe top of the little hill.For some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in alldirections over the country—and a most curious country it was. Therewere a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it fromside to side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by anumber of little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.“I declare it’s marked out just like a large chessboard!” Alice said atlast. “There ought to be some men moving about somewhere—and so thereare!” She added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick | 0Caroll |
as yet not universally acknowledged townsman TOOBY, the poet of ourcolumns!) that the youth’s earliest patron, companion, and friend, wasa highly respected individual not entirely unconnected with the cornand seed trade, and whose eminently convenient and commodious businesspremises are situate within a hundred miles of the High Street. It isnot wholly irrespective of our personal feelings that we record HIM asthe Mentor of our young Telemachus, for it is good to know that ourtown produced the founder of the latter’s fortunes. Does thethought-contracted brow of the local Sage or the lustrous eye of localBeauty inquire whose fortunes? We believe that Quintin Matsys was theBLACKSMITH of Antwerp. VERB. SAP.I entertain a conviction, based upon large experience, that if in thedays of my prosperity I had gone to the North Pole, I should have metsomebody there, wandering Esquimaux or civilized man, who would havetold me that Pumblechook was my earliest patron and the founder of my | 1Dickens |
"But he was very light to carry," she resumed, intent uponher work, "and his father loved him so, that it was notrouble: no trouble. And there is your father at the door!"She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter--he had need of it, poor fellow--came in. His teawas ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who shouldhelp him to it most. Then the two young Cratchits gotupon his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, againsthis face, as if they said, "Don't mind it, father. Don't beBob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly toall the family. He looked at the work upon the table, andpraised the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls.They would be done long before Sunday, he said."Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?" said his"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could havegone. It would have done you good to see how green a | 1Dickens |
mysterious young man, the file, the food, and the dreadful pledge I wasunder to commit a larceny on those sheltering premises, rose before mein the avenging coals.“Hah!” said Mrs. Joe, restoring Tickler to his station. “Churchyard,indeed! You may well say churchyard, you two.” One of us, by the by,had not said it at all. “You’ll drive _me_ to the churchyard betwixtyou, one of these days, and O, a pr-r-recious pair you’d be withoutAs she applied herself to set the tea-things, Joe peeped down at meover his leg, as if he were mentally casting me and himself up, andcalculating what kind of pair we practically should make, under thegrievous circumstances foreshadowed. After that, he sat feeling hisright-side flaxen curls and whisker, and following Mrs. Joe about withhis blue eyes, as his manner always was at squally times.My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread and butter for us,that never varied. First, with her left hand she jammed the loaf hard | 1Dickens |
appears on the surface. The first thing that strikes one is the obviouspossibility that the person now in the rooms may be entirely differentfrom the one who engaged them.”“Why should you think so?”“Well, apart from this cigarette-end, was it not suggestive that theonly time the lodger went out was immediately after his taking therooms? He came back—or someone came back—when all witnesses were out ofthe way. We have no proof that the person who came back was the personwho went out. Then, again, the man who took the rooms spoke Englishwell. This other, however, prints ‘match’ when it should have been‘matches.’ I can imagine that the word was taken out of a dictionary,which would give the noun but not the plural. The laconic style may beto conceal the absence of knowledge of English. Yes, Watson, there aregood reasons to suspect that there has been a substitution of lodgers.”“But for what possible end?” | 2Doyle |
“I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I thought I should havebeen much the same sort of fellow, if I had had any luck.”Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious paunch.“You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to work.”Sullenly enough, the jackal loosened his dress, went into an adjoiningroom, and came back with a large jug of cold water, a basin, and a towelor two. Steeping the towels in the water, and partially wringing themout, he folded them on his head in a manner hideous to behold, sat downat the table, and said, “Now I am ready!”“Not much boiling down to be done to-night, Memory,” said Mr. Stryver,gaily, as he looked among his papers.“Only two sets of them.”“Give me the worst first.”“There they are, Sydney. Fire away!”The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of thedrinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own paper-bestrewn table | 1Dickens |
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hound of the BaskervillesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States andmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or onlineat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,you will have to check the laws of the country where you are locatedbefore using this eBook.Title: The Hound of the BaskervillesAuthor: Arthur Conan DoyleRelease date: October 1, 2001 [eBook #2852] Most recently updated: June 27, 2021*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES ***THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLESAnother Adventure of Sherlock Holmesby A. Conan Doyle It was to your account of a West-Country legend that this tale owes itsinception. For this and for your help in the details all thanks. | 2Doyle |
“Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to the front. Did you see him come out on us?” “Did he ever strike you as being crazy—this brother of hers?” “I can’t say that he ever did.” “I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough until today, but you can take it from me that either he or I ought to be in a straitjacket. What’s the matter with me, anyhow? You’ve lived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there anything that would prevent me from making a good husband to a woman that I loved?” “I should say not.” “He can’t object to my worldly position, so it must be myself that he has this down on. What has he against me? I never hurt man or woman in my life that I know of. And yet he would not so | 2Doyle |
15. Some y' exist. i.e. |---|-1-| | 1 | 0 | 16. All y are x, and all x are y. i.e. |---|---| | 0 | | 17. No x' exist. i.e. |---|---| | 0 | 0 | | 0 | 1 | 18. All x are y'. i.e. |---|---| | 0 | | 19. No x are y. i.e. |---|---| 20. Some x' are y, and some are y'. i.e. |---|---| | 1 | 1 | | 0 | 1 | 21. No y exist, and some x exist. i.e. |---|---| | 0 | | | | 1 | 22. All x' are y, and all y' are x. i.e. |---|---| | 1 | 0 | | 1 | | 17. Some x are y, and some x' are y'. i.e. |---|---| | | 1 |1. Some y are not-x, or, Some not-x are y.2. No not-x are not-y, or, No not-y are not-x. | 0Caroll |
in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just“How goes it, Jacques?”They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones.“Nothing but supper now,” said the mender of roads, with a hungry face.“It is the fashion,” growled the man. “I meet no dinner anywhere.”He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint andsteel, pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly heldit from him and dropped something into it from between his finger andthumb, that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke.“Touch then.” It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it thistime, after observing these operations. They again joined hands.“To-night?” said the mender of roads.“To-night,” said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth.He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently atone another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge | 1Dickens |
drove away. Not many people had talked with him at the reception; he hadstood in a little space apart, and Monseigneur might have been warmerin his manner. It appeared, under the circumstances, rather agreeableto him to see the common people dispersed before his horses, andoften barely escaping from being run down. His man drove as if he werecharging an enemy, and the furious recklessness of the man brought nocheck into the face, or to the lips, of the master. The complaint hadsometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and dumb age,that, in the narrow streets without footways, the fierce patriciancustom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in abarbarous manner. But, few cared enough for that to think of it a secondtime, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches wereleft to get out of their difficulties as they could.With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of | 1Dickens |
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and in EVERY one the answer will be "No information!", showing thatthere is NO CONCLUSION AT ALL. For instance, "All soldiers are brave; Some Englishmen are brave. &there4 Some Englishmen are soldiers."looks uncommonly LIKE a Syllogism, and might easily take in aless experienced Logician. But YOU are not to be caught by sucha trick! You would simply set out the Premisses, and would thencalmly remark "Fallacious PREMISSES!": you wouldn't condescend toask what CONCLUSION the writer professed to draw--knowing that,WHATEVER it is, it MUST be wrong. You would be just as safe asthat wise mother was, who said "Mary, just go up to the nursery,and see what Baby's doing, AND TELL HIM NOT TO DO IT!"The other kind of Fallacy--'Fallacious Conclusion'--you will notdetect till you have marked BOTH Diagrams, and have read off thecorrect Conclusion, and have compared it with the Conclusion whichthe writer has drawn.But mind, you mustn't say "FALLACIOUS Conclusion," simply because | 0Caroll |
“You have no time to ask me why I bring it, or what it means; I haveno time to tell you. You must comply with it--take off those boots youwear, and draw on these of mine.”There was a chair against the wall of the cell, behind the prisoner.Carton, pressing forward, had already, with the speed of lightning, gothim down into it, and stood over him, barefoot.“Draw on these boots of mine. Put your hands to them; put your will to“Carton, there is no escaping from this place; it never can be done. Youwill only die with me. It is madness.”“It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask youto pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Changethat cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you doit, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like | 1Dickens |
rope--Will the roof bear?--Mind that loose slate--Oh, it's coming down!Heads below!" (a loud crash)--"Now, who did that?--It was Bill, Ifancy--Who's to go down the chimney?--Nay, _I_ sha'n't! _You_ doit!--_That_ I won't, then! Bill's to go down--Here, Bill! the mastersays you've to go down the chimney!""Oh! So Bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said Alice toherself. "Why, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn't be inBill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; butI _think_ I can kick a little!"She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited tillshe heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it was)scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then,saying to herself "This is Bill," she gave one sharp kick, and waited tosee what would happen next.The first thing she heard was a general chorus of "There goes Bill!" | 0Caroll |
beautiful than anybody ever was, and I admire her dreadfully, and Iwant to be a gentleman on her account.” Having made this lunaticconfession, I began to throw my torn-up grass into the river, as if Ihad some thoughts of following it.“Do you want to be a gentleman, to spite her or to gain her over?”Biddy quietly asked me, after a pause.“I don’t know,” I moodily answered.“Because, if it is to spite her,” Biddy pursued, “I should think—butyou know best—that might be better and more independently done bycaring nothing for her words. And if it is to gain her over, I shouldthink—but you know best—she was not worth gaining over.”Exactly what I myself had thought, many times. Exactly what wasperfectly manifest to me at the moment. But how could I, a poor dazedvillage lad, avoid that wonderful inconsistency into which the best andwisest of men fall every day?“It may be all quite true,” said I to Biddy, “but I admire her | 1Dickens |
gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing.“‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You havedestroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewelswhich you have stolen?’“‘Yes, thief!’ I roared, shaking him by the shoulder.“‘There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,’ said he.“‘There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call youa liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off another“‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it anylonger. I shall not say another word about this business, since youhave chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning andmake my own way in the world.’“‘You shall leave it in the hands of the police!’ I cried half-mad withgrief and rage. ‘I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.’“‘You shall learn nothing from me,’ said he with a passion such as I | 2Doyle |
cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at anymoment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after followingHolmes’ example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside thebedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamponto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we hadseen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet ofhis hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all thatI could do to distinguish the words:“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”I nodded to show that I had heard.“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistolready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, andyou in that chair.” | 2Doyle |
on the earthwork for some time with my chin on my hand, descryingtraces of Miss Havisham and Estella all over the prospect, in the skyand in the water, until at last I resolved to mention a thoughtconcerning them that had been much in my head.“Joe,” said I; “don’t you think I ought to make Miss Havisham a visit?”“Well, Pip,” returned Joe, slowly considering. “What for?”“What for, Joe? What is any visit made for?”“There is some wisits p’r’aps,” said Joe, “as for ever remains open tothe question, Pip. But in regard to wisiting Miss Havisham. She mightthink you wanted something,—expected something of her.”“Don’t you think I might say that I did not, Joe?”“You might, old chap,” said Joe. “And she might credit it. SimilarlyJoe felt, as I did, that he had made a point there, and he pulled hardat his pipe to keep himself from weakening it by repetition.“You see, Pip,” Joe pursued, as soon as he was past that danger, “Miss | 1Dickens |
wretched, and had a strong conviction on me that I should never likeJoe’s trade. I had liked it once, but once was not now.It is a most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home. There may beblack ingratitude in the thing, and the punishment may be retributiveand well deserved; but that it is a miserable thing, I can testify.Home had never been a very pleasant place to me, because of my sister’stemper. But, Joe had sanctified it, and I had believed in it. I hadbelieved in the best parlour as a most elegant saloon; I had believedin the front door, as a mysterious portal of the Temple of State whosesolemn opening was attended with a sacrifice of roast fowls; I hadbelieved in the kitchen as a chaste though not magnificent apartment; Ihad believed in the forge as the glowing road to manhood andindependence. Within a single year all this was changed. Now it was all | 1Dickens |
“Plots. Though the just Heaven knows that I am innocent of any. Is itlikely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak creatureThe forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that tearsstarted from his eyes.“I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evrémonde, but I have done nothing. Iam not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much goodto us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be,Citizen Evrémonde. Such a poor weak little creature!”As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, itwarmed and softened to this pitiable girl.“I heard you were released, Citizen Evrémonde. I hoped it was true?”“It was. But, I was again taken and condemned.”“If I may ride with you, Citizen Evrémonde, will you let me hold yourhand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me | 1Dickens |
challenged, hears the rattle of the muskets, hears the orders ‘Makeready! Present! Cover him steady, men!’ and is laid hands on—andthere’s nothin’! Why, if I see one pursuing party last night—coming upin order, Damn ’em, with their tramp, tramp—I see a hundred. And as tofiring! Why, I see the mist shake with the cannon, arter it was broadday,—But this man”; he had said all the rest, as if he had forgotten mybeing there; “did you notice anything in him?”“He had a badly bruised face,” said I, recalling what I hardly knew I“Not here?” exclaimed the man, striking his left cheek mercilessly,with the flat of his hand.“Where is he?” He crammed what little food was left, into the breast ofhis grey jacket. “Show me the way he went. I’ll pull him down, like abloodhound. Curse this iron on my sore leg! Give us hold of the file,I indicated in what direction the mist had shrouded the other man, and | 1Dickens |
went together; at other times she was alone; but, she never missed aIt was the dark and dirty corner of a small winding street. The hovelof a cutter of wood into lengths for burning, was the only house at thatend; all else was wall. On the third day of her being there, he noticedThis mode of address was now prescribed by decree. It had beenestablished voluntarily some time ago, among the more thorough patriots;but, was now law for everybody.“Walking here again, citizeness?”“You see me, citizen!”The wood-sawyer, who was a little man with a redundancy of gesture (hehad once been a mender of roads), cast a glance at the prison, pointedat the prison, and putting his ten fingers before his face to representbars, peeped through them jocosely.“But it’s not my business,” said he. And went on sawing his wood.Next day he was looking out for her, and accosted her the moment she | 1Dickens |
“You are an Englishman,” I said.“What if I am?” he asked with a most villainous scowl.“May I ask what your name is?”“No, you may not,” said he with decision.The situation was awkward, but the most direct way is often the best.“Where is the Lady Frances Carfax?” I asked.He stared at me with amazement.“What have you done with her? Why have you pursued her? I insist uponan answer!” said I.The fellow gave a bellow of anger and sprang upon me like a tiger. Ihave held my own in many a struggle, but the man had a grip of iron andthe fury of a fiend. His hand was on my throat and my senses werenearly gone before an unshaven French _ouvrier_ in a blue blouse dartedout from a _cabaret_ opposite, with a cudgel in his hand, and struck myassailant a sharp crack over the forearm, which made him leave go hishold. He stood for an instant fuming with rage and uncertain whether he | 2Doyle |
a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with “Baskerville Hall,” said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars’ heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles’s Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered | 2Doyle |
otherwise; but, they were naturally large, and looked unnaturally so.His yellow rags of shirt lay open at the throat, and showed his bodyto be withered and worn. He, and his old canvas frock, and his loosestockings, and all his poor tatters of clothes, had, in a long seclusionfrom direct light and air, faded down to such a dull uniformity ofparchment-yellow, that it would have been hard to say which was which.He had put up a hand between his eyes and the light, and the very bonesof it seemed transparent. So he sat, with a steadfastly vacant gaze,pausing in his work. He never looked at the figure before him, withoutfirst looking down on this side of himself, then on that, as if he hadlost the habit of associating place with sound; he never spoke, withoutfirst wandering in this manner, and forgetting to speak.“Are you going to finish that pair of shoes to-day?” asked Defarge, | 1Dickens |
remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning.”“Why, it is after nine now,” I answered. “I should not be surprised ifthat were he. I thought I heard a ring.”It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the changewhich had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broadand massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemedto me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargywhich was even more painful than his violence of the morning before,and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he.“Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care inthe world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrowcomes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted | 2Doyle |
beside him, and he bent over his work.It happened, at length, that he had occasion to change the instrumentin his hand, for his shoemaker’s knife. It lay on that side of himwhich was not the side on which she stood. He had taken it up, and wasstooping to work again, when his eyes caught the skirt of her dress. Heraised them, and saw her face. The two spectators started forward,but she stayed them with a motion of her hand. She had no fear of hisstriking at her with the knife, though they had.He stared at her with a fearful look, and after a while his lips beganto form some words, though no sound proceeded from them. By degrees, inthe pauses of his quick and laboured breathing, he was heard to say:With the tears streaming down her face, she put her two hands to herlips, and kissed them to him; then clasped them on her breast, as if she | 1Dickens |
Walk me, walk me!”I made out from this, that the work I had to do, was to walk MissHavisham round and round the room. Accordingly, I started at once, andshe leaned upon my shoulder, and we went away at a pace that might havebeen an imitation (founded on my first impulse under that roof) of Mr.She was not physically strong, and after a little time said, “Slower!”Still, we went at an impatient fitful speed, and as we went, shetwitched the hand upon my shoulder, and worked her mouth, and led me tobelieve that we were going fast because her thoughts went fast. After awhile she said, “Call Estella!” so I went out on the landing and roaredthat name as I had done on the previous occasion. When her lightappeared, I returned to Miss Havisham, and we started away again roundand round the room.If only Estella had come to be a spectator of our proceedings, I should | 1Dickens |
“As to me, the greatest desire I have, is to forget that I belong to it.It has no good in it for me--except wine like this--nor I for it. So weare not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we arenot much alike in any particular, you and I.”Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there withthis Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay wasat a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all.“Now your dinner is done,” Carton presently said, “why don’t you call ahealth, Mr. Darnay; why don’t you give your toast?”“What health? What toast?”“Why, it’s on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I’llLooking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Cartonflung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered topieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another. | 1Dickens |
himself in the breast with his blue cap. What did all this portend,and what portended the swift hoisting-up of Monsieur Gabelle behinda servant on horseback, and the conveying away of the said Gabelle(double-laden though the horse was), at a gallop, like a new version ofthe German ballad of Leonora?It portended that there was one stone face too many, up at the chateau.The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had addedthe one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waitedthrough about two hundred years.It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a finemask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified. Driven home into theheart of the stone figure attached to it, was a knife. Round its hiltwas a frill of paper, on which was scrawled:“Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from Jacques.”More months, to the number of twelve, had come and gone, and Mr. Charles | 1Dickens |
“Hah!” said the Marquis again, in a well-satisfied manner.“If it ever becomes mine, it shall be put into some hands betterqualified to free it slowly (if such a thing is possible) from theweight that drags it down, so that the miserable people who cannot leaveit and who have been long wrung to the last point of endurance, may, inanother generation, suffer less; but it is not for me. There is a curseon it, and on all this land.”“And you?” said the uncle. “Forgive my curiosity; do you, under your newphilosophy, graciously intend to live?”“I must do, to live, what others of my countrymen, even with nobility attheir backs, may have to do some day--work.”“In England, for example?”“Yes. The family honour, sir, is safe from me in this country. Thefamily name can suffer from me in no other, for I bear it in no other.”The ringing of the bell had caused the adjoining bed-chamber to be | 1Dickens |
them, so delighted that I should have come by accident to make theirMy first thought was one of great thankfulness that I had neverbreathed this last baffled hope to Joe. How often, while he was with mein my illness, had it risen to my lips! How irrevocable would have beenhis knowledge of it, if he had remained with me but another hour!“Dear Biddy,” said I, “you have the best husband in the whole world,and if you could have seen him by my bed you would have—But no, youcouldn’t love him better than you do.”“No, I couldn’t indeed,” said Biddy.“And, dear Joe, you have the best wife in the whole world, and she willmake you as happy as even you deserve to be, you dear, good, nobleJoe looked at me with a quivering lip, and fairly put his sleeve before“And Joe and Biddy both, as you have been to church to-day, and are in | 1Dickens |
have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominousbloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could savehimself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment“And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated inthe matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents,but as, by Mrs. St. Clair’s story, he was known to have been at thefoot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband’s appearanceat the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to thecrime. His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested thathe had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, andthat he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing“So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who livesupon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the last | 2Doyle |
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted byU.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and upto date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s websiteand official page at www.gutenberg.org/contactSection 4. Information about Donations to the Project GutenbergProject Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespreadpublic support and donations to carry out its mission ofincreasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can befreely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widestarray of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exemptstatus with the IRS. | 1Dickens |
pry into my heart and probe its wounds. “How does she use you, Pip; howdoes she use you?” she asked me again, with her witch-like eagerness,even in Estella’s hearing. But, when we sat by her flickering fire atnight, she was most weird; for then, keeping Estella’s hand drawnthrough her arm and clutched in her own hand, she extorted from her, bydint of referring back to what Estella had told her in her regularletters, the names and conditions of the men whom she had fascinated;and as Miss Havisham dwelt upon this roll, with the intensity of a mindmortally hurt and diseased, she sat with her other hand on her crutchstick, and her chin on that, and her wan bright eyes glaring at me, aI saw in this, wretched though it made me, and bitter the sense ofdependence and even of degradation that it awakened,—I saw in this thatEstella was set to wreak Miss Havisham’s revenge on men, and that she | 1Dickens |
as she could. "The game's going on rather better now," she said, by wayof keeping up the conversation a little."'Tis so," said the Duchess: "and the moral of that is--'Oh, 'tis love,'tis love, that makes the world go round!'""Somebody said," Alice whispered, "that it's done by everybody minding"Ah, well! It means much the same thing," said the Duchess, digging hersharp little chin into Alice's shoulder as she added, "and the moral of_that_ is--'Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of"How fond she is of finding morals in things!" Alice thought to herself."I dare say you're wondering why I don't put my arm round your waist,"the Duchess said after a pause: "the reason is, that I'm doubtful aboutthe temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?""He might bite," Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious tohave the experiment tried."Very true," said the Duchess: "flamingoes and mustard both bite. And | 0Caroll |
then, and the like. Estella smiled with perfect composure, and said shehad no doubt of my having been quite right, and of her having been very“Is _he_ changed?” Miss Havisham asked her.“Very much,” said Estella, looking at me.“Less coarse and common?” said Miss Havisham, playing with Estella’sEstella laughed, and looked at the shoe in her hand, and laughed again,and looked at me, and put the shoe down. She treated me as a boy still,but she lured me on.We sat in the dreamy room among the old strange influences which had sowrought upon me, and I learnt that she had but just come home fromFrance, and that she was going to London. Proud and wilful as of old,she had brought those qualities into such subjection to her beauty thatit was impossible and out of nature—or I thought so—to separate themfrom her beauty. Truly it was impossible to dissociate her presencefrom all those wretched hankerings after money and gentility that had | 1Dickens |
the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.“Tst! Joe!” cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his“What do you say, Tom?”“I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe.”“_I_ say a horse at a gallop, Tom,” returned the guard, leaving his holdof the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. “Gentlemen! In the king’sname, all of you!”With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood onThe passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step, getting in;the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. Heremained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remainedin the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard,and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman lookedback and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked uphis ears and looked back, without contradicting. | 1Dickens |
me. He had been at his books when I had found myself staring at him,and I now saw that he was inky.“Halloa!” said he, “young fellow!”Halloa being a general observation which I had usually observed to bebest answered by itself, _I_ said, “Halloa!” politely omitting young“Who let _you_ in?” said he.“Who gave you leave to prowl about?”“Come and fight,” said the pale young gentleman.What could I do but follow him? I have often asked myself the questionsince; but what else could I do? His manner was so final, and I was soastonished, that I followed where he led, as if I had been under a“Stop a minute, though,” he said, wheeling round before we had gonemany paces. “I ought to give you a reason for fighting, too. There itis!” In a most irritating manner he instantly slapped his hands againstone another, daintily flung one of his legs up behind him, pulled my | 1Dickens |
His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think,to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he wavedme to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated aspirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fireand looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have puton seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, Ifancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell methat you intended to go into harness.”“Then, how do you know?”“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been gettingyourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have | 2Doyle |
the school which had begun well sank from disrepute into infamy. The Vandeleurs found it convenient to change their name to Stapleton, and he brought the remains of his fortune, his schemes for the future, and his taste for entomology to the south of England. I learned at the British Museum that he was a recognized authority upon the subject, and that the name of Vandeleur has been permanently attached to a certain moth which he had, in his Yorkshire days, been the first to describe. “We now come to that portion of his life which has proved to be of such intense interest to us. The fellow had evidently made inquiry and found that only two lives intervened between him and a valuable estate. When he went to Devonshire his plans were, I believe, exceedingly hazy, but that he meant mischief from the first is evident from the way in which he took his wife with him | 2Doyle |
should not have thought was in his nature. ‘If you choose to call thepolice, let the police find what they can.’“By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice inmy anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight ofthe coronet and of Arthur’s face, she read the whole story and, with ascream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the housemaid for thepolice and put the investigation into their hands at once. When theinspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stoodsullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention tocharge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a privatematter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet wasnational property. I was determined that the law should have its way in“‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It would | 2Doyle |
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