The binding remains secure; the text is clean. Free of any creased or dog-eared pages in the text. Free of any underlining, hi-lighting or any other markings in the text.
A handsome copy, structurally sound and tightly bound, showing moderate wear and minor flaws. Gilt titles and designs at the backstrip. Language: English. Weight: Third Edition ; Second Printing, with Illustrations This may be a privately produced leather binding, as we have a matching volume of "The Sign of Four" published by George Newnes. Published by Book of the Month, New York, Seller: Go4Books , St.
Cloud, MN, U. Used - Hardcover Condition: Near Fine. Condition: Near Fine. Dust Jacket Condition: Near Fine. BOMC Edition. Gordius nodus endpapers. Published by Berkley, New - Softcover Condition: New. Published by London: John Murray, , Octavo 18 x 12cm , pp.
Contents clean, edges a little dusty and toned, cloth with a few marks, small are of fraying to rear joint, jacket with some general chips, tears and light soiling. A used yet presentable copy of this first single-volume collection. Rather scarce in jacket. Conan Doyle, Arthur; Illustrations by Geo. Published by Ward, Lock and Bowden, E, Ward, Lock and Bowden, London. Xx, pgs. Joseph Bell's note. Bell was Doyle's university lecturer in medicine and the original model for his great detective.
Bound in publisher's quarter scarlet cloth, gilt titles to spine, beige buckram boards titled in red, patterned endpapers, top edge gilt. Boards have wear present to the extremities of the boards boards cocked, ink residue to the rear cover. No ownership marks present. Foxing present. Text is clean and free of marks.
Binding tight and solid. Written in , the story marks the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who would become among the most famous characters in literature. The book's title derives from a speech given by Holmes, an amateur detective, to his friend and chronicler Watson on the nature of his work, in which he describes the story's murder investigation as his "study in scarlet": "There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.
Published by Leipzig, Bernhard Tauchnitz, Used Condition: Gut. From Germany to U. Condition: Gut. Weisse Abeschabungsstelle am Vordertitel. Published by Ad Classic , Used - Softcover Condition: Good. Condition: Good. Hutchinson, Geo; Greig, James illustrator. Item is in good condition. Some moderate creases and wear.
This item may not come with CDs or additional parts including access codes for textbooks. Photos are stock pictures and not of the actual item. Seller: Inanna Rare Books Ltd. From Ireland to U. Three Volumes complete set with the later published third Volume. Quarto 23 cm x 26 cm. With hundreds of photographs and illustrations throughout the three Volumes. Original Hardcover with dustjacket in two original slipcases.
Besides a minor cut to the dustjacket of Volume III, this set is in unusually excellent, unread and as new condition with some minor signs of wear only.
This monumental edition promises to be the most important new contribution to Sherlock Holmes literature since William Baring-Gould's classic work. In this boxed set, Leslie Klinger, a leading world authority, reassembles Arthur Conan Doyle's 56 classic short stories in the order in which they appeared in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century book editions.
Inside, readers will find a cornucopia of insights: beginners will benefit from Klinger's insightful biographies of Holmes, Watson, and Conan Doyle; history lovers will revel in the wealth of Victorian literary and cultural details; Sherlockian fanatics will puzzle over tantalizing new theories; art lovers will thrill to the plus illustrations, which make this the most lavishly illustrated edition of the Holmes tales ever produced.
Publisher's Advertising Sprache: english. Published by Cape, UK, New Edition. New Edition A matching complete set of the Authors Sherlock Holmes books. New pictorial endpapers to each volume. Not uncommon but seldom seen as a set. A little light edge rubbing. More images can be taken upon request.
Ref Published by John Murray, UK, A very un-common book with the wrapper. Contents good. Edges lightly rubbed with a few odd nicks.
Light staining to spine base. Spine lightened. Published by Conan Doyle Books; J. These things all point towards a pleasurable experience, However, in the end, the most important barometer in gauging your level of happy will be your reaction to Holmes himself. Holmes investigates Holmes figures it out Watson slobbers all over Holmes From a personality standpoint, one of my buddies here on GR said it best Part of that appeal is precisely because he is such a prickish turd in the social skill department.
However it his mental faculties, the trait he is best known for, that makes him so intriguing. Yes, he is brilliant. However, that is not the end of the story Paul Harvey because it is a unique and very specialized kind of brilliance.
Holmes knows the details, and I mean details, of every major crime to have been perpetrated in Europe and possibly beyond over the last years. However, as is divulged in this story, Holmes also has no idea that the Earth travels around the sun.
Holmes explains to Watson thusly: I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic.
He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent.
Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones. This just struck me as particularly awesome from a story perspective.
Additionally, he solves crimes not because of a perceived duty, but merely because it is the only thing that keeps the boredom of life away. Finally, I also see Holmes as a tragic figure. He is a sad, lonely and devoid of any lasting sense of contentment or pleasure.
While alive and invigorated when the game is afoot, most of his time is spent as a mere husk of a man with no feeling of day-to-day happiness.
All of this makes Holmes an extraordinarily compelling figure to me and one I hope to spend a lot more time reading about. While I did not enjoy this as much as The Adventure of the Final Problem my favorite so far , I was still glued to the page watching Holmes maneuver through his scenes and really enjoyed the flashback portion set in America.
I look forward to many more of his adventures. View all 56 comments. Aug 25, Anne rated it it was amazing Shelves: mystery , classics , crime , read-in , buddy-read.
Sherlock Holmes and the case of the Killer Mormons! But more about that later I mean, this is one of the most important meetings in the history of all literature! Come on, people! Get excited! It's only fair to mention that I've read and reread all of these stories a bjillion times, and these are by far my favorite classic characters.
And, just to be clear, I loved him before he was all sexified. Ok, so Watson is back from the war he basically just got trounced on and then came home , and has wasted all of his money is running low on funds. Luckily, he runs into an old pal from school, who just happens to know of this guy who's looking for a roommate.
Alright, as far as the mystery goes, it's just Sherlock running around sniffing things, implausibly being able to identify cigar ash, and tracing the movement of criminals using day-old tromped on footprints.
Given what we know about forensic evidence now, is any of this, in any small way , even remotely believable? Can Sherlock actually deduct the answer to this mystery from horse tracks, a dead man's bad breath, and a plain wedding band? You're goddamn right, he can!
Now, I'm fully prepared to admit that I had forgotten about the Mormon Connection. I haven't read this one years , mostly because I prefer the short stories. But, to uncover the reasons behind the killings, Doyle takes us on a journey to the wilds of America! Specifically, Utah. Land of the Magic Underwear! This was where the tale of one man's thirst for vengeance was born. And it's all Brigham Young's fault. He was eeeeeeevil! I'm assuming that Mormonism like most religions has its share of shady skeleton's in the closet.
Now, I don't claim to be an expert on these guys. All I know about that religion is what I've seen on tv or read in books, and it's not much. They wear special underwear. They can't watch R-rated movies. And they used to go door-to-door, until the Jehovah's Witness got to be too much competition.
There's something else I'm forgetting though What is it? It's right there on the tip of my tongue. Is it that they write best selling novels about sparkly vampires? No, there was something that looked like a big pink elephant I remember!
Well, from what I can tell, the only Mormons who practice polygamy now are fringe groups that are more or less shunned by their peers. And while I'm not on board with any religion, I doubt that this one is much weirder than most, at this point anyway. Plus, at least most Mormons seem to be pretty educated and well-off. It's not like Salt Lake City is one huge trailer park filled with toothless hillbillies.
And bonus! Or so I thought! Now that I've read this, I'm going to have to rethink my plan to move west! Who knew these guys were so devious!? Kidnapping, forced marriage, murder, and secret bird calls!? Was this really a five star book? Fuck, no. But it's my favorite character's first book, and I enjoyed the hell out of it. Buddy read with my Non-Crunchy Friends! Written in , the story marks the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who would become two of the most famous characters in popular fiction.
The book's title derives from a speech given by Holmes, a consulting detective, to his friend and chronicler Watson on the nature of his work, in which he describes the story's murder investigati A Study in Scarlet Sherlock Holmes, 1 , Arthur Conan Doyle A Study in Scarlet is an detective novel by British author Arthur Conan Doyle.
The book's title derives from a speech given by Holmes, a consulting detective, to his friend and chronicler Watson on the nature of his work, in which he describes the story's murder investigation as his "Study in Scarlet": "There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colorless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.
View 2 comments. Who's the better detective: Sherlock Holmes, or me when I'm trying to figure out someone's entire moral compass based solely on who they're following on Instagram? Like, sure, Holmesy might use the power of observation more effectively than any other fictional detective in history, but does he even know which usernames are red flags? This is one of the better mysteries, like, ever, but in terms of pacing it still manages to be a total nightmare.
Stopping the entire narrative at the climax Who's the better detective: Sherlock Holmes, or me when I'm trying to figure out someone's entire moral compass based solely on who they're following on Instagram? Stopping the entire narrative at the climax in order to inexplicably launch into a bone-dry description of Mormonism for seemingly pages I actually Wikipedia'd this book to make sure something wasn't wrong with the ebook I borrowed from the library.
Still, though, Sherlock Holmes rules and is very fun to read about, even if I have some association of his name with Benedict Cumberbatch and therefore have to occasionally feel fear strike my very heart when I think of his face while reading. We take the wins with the losses in this life.
Mixed history, really. Bottom line: More Holmes, please! View all 9 comments. Jan 01, Maureen rated it really liked it. Started with this classic from Arthur Conan Doyle. A reread and so worth reading again. Very enjoyable! View all 15 comments. This nifty novel really a novella the first Sherlock Holmes book written in , is rather strange since it is set both in the culture, of brimming Victorian London, , and the dry , very hot desolate deserts of the savage wastelands of Utah, , nothing here Or even part of the United States, since technically still Mexican territory , neglected by them and ruled by the Ute Indians The almost forgotten war between the U.
Changed the status , the news surprised the Mormons who had fled persecution , seeking freedom, for their weird belief in polygamy which men loved but caused momentous trouble , in the American Midwest. Angry crowds killed many Mormons, including their founder , Joseph Smith, and escape was now impossible they thought The plot begins when the new Mormon prophet Brigham Young, soon to have 55 wives, leading the first 2,ooo Mormons to the promise land, an exodus of 1, miles Back to Mr.
Holmes and Dr. Watson pardon the history lesson but it is quite important for understanding this great book. The actual narrative starts with young Dr. John Watson returning from the horrendous second British- Afghan war Wounded, nearly fatally, then let go from the army , trying to recover his health and spirits , save money too, he rents a room at b Baker street Obviously exceptionally brilliant but keeps to himself.
NOT a medical man, yet knows much about medicine Then Scotland Yard contacts Holmes , asking for help with a murder investigation The very different stories , unite masterfully at last , in the rather faraway England Americans in London start being killed for no apparent reason This will give readers a nice taste View all 4 comments.
The Game is on! John Watson, are introduced to the audience in their first case together. It wasn't an instantenous success, but gladly it was appreciated soon enough to the point that when the author, Sir Arhur Conan Doyle, wanted to "kill" the character, not only their loyal fans wrote letters against the decision something unheard at those times for not saying that even people in The Game is on!
It wasn't an instantenous success, but gladly it was appreciated soon enough to the point that when the author, Sir Arhur Conan Doyle, wanted to "kill" the character, not only their loyal fans wrote letters against the decision something unheard at those times for not saying that even people in London were seeing wearing mourning black bands showing respect to the "death" of the character, that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle finally "resurrect" the character writing even more adventures.
But everything began here John Watson got injured in war, and when he got back to London, he isn't able to afford a decent apartment on his scarse pension, so he is introduced to a peculiar man who is a "consultant detective", the first and only in the world, that not only private detectives consulted him but even the very Scotland Yard was resigned that Holmes' help was needed, for not saying crucial to solve impossible crimes.
While this case, maybe wasn't that astounding, it is quite astonishing at the speed that Holmes is able to solve it, thanks to his uncanning deduction skills. I think that the middle section where the culprit explained his background and the reasons to commit the murders, could be exposed in a less extended way, but still, it was the first story, so I am able to forgive this kinda of a deviation of the main storyline.
In this first novel, you met along with Holmes and Watson, also the Detective Inspector Lestrade, and the Baker Street Irregulars which are vital for the search for people and clues to Holmes. A literary legend was born here. View all 14 comments. Halfway the locale turns exotic--Holmes already knows who the culprit is--and, fittingly, the motive is but half the story! What a feeling of pervasive excitement the mid 19th century had with these cerebral, albeit universal, yarns of suspense.
So having just finished this book, I am seriously considering upping my rating to 5 stars. I had forgotten how good it was, even the bit that I had previously found rather boring, view spoiler [ the background part giving details of why the crime was committed hide spoiler ].
So I shall have to give serious thought over the next few days as to whether the wonderful scenes of the first encounters between Holmes and Watson, and the investigation into the "Study in Scarlet", warrant an upgrade to 5 stars. I have read a Study in Scarlet before, many years ago, but remembered little of it, now I realise it was certainly the weakest of the novels, given that half of it is background after the event.
Having said that it was enjoyable, and brought me back into the Holmes fold, where I haven't been for many a year. I see his face and mannerisms as I read, or was he just so good in dedicating the remainder of his acting career and life to Holmes that his interpretation is just so accurate. Anyway having re-read this I shall endeavour to read more Holmes thru the year.
View all 6 comments. So, what happened was.. I was not surprised and neither did I curse the publishers. As I was ill-prepared for reading, this resulted in me being not disappointed like I was supposed to be. I couldn't loathe it because it was equally good. Jefferson Hope, the murderer of But I did, so atleast I got some expression right. You see, I was not aware of such shortcomings and issues so I enjoyed it a bit more than I should have. And I mean no Okay, what the hell am I going to write for this review without writing spoilers, because everything turns out to be a spoiler.
This is hard. Maybe, I should include this line, for this is best: I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. No, I should not, since almost every reviewer has used this line. So I am not going to write it in my review too and lengthen it unnecessarily, I will skip this.
Doyle got twenty-five pounds for all rights to the story. He never received another penny for it, although fortunately, in one of those little contractual details that could have changed literary history forever, he retained rights to the character. Tell us what you like and we'll recommend books you'll love. Sign up and get a free ebook! By Arthur Conan Doyle. John Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face and suspicion in his eyes.
Holmes laughed and threw his card across the table to the constable. Go on, though. What did you do next? Rance resumed his seat, without, however, losing his mystified expression.
The constable's features broadened into a grin. He was at the gate when I came out, a-leanin' up ag'in the railings, and a-singin' at the pitch o' his lungs about Columbine's New-fangled Banner, or some such stuff. He couldn't stand, far less help. John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated at this digression. He was a long chap, with a red face, the lower part muffied round-'.
That head of yours should be for use as well as ornament. You might have gained your sergeant's stripes last night. The man whom you held in your hands is the man who holds the clue of this mystery, and whom we are seeking. There is no use of arguing about it now; I tell you that it is so. Come along, Doctor. We started off for the cab together, leaving our informant incredulous, but obviously uncomfortable.
Just to think of his having such an incomparable bit of good luck, and not taking advantage of it. It is true that the description of this man tallies with your idea of the second party in this mystery. But why should he come back to the house after leaving it? That is not the way of criminals. If we have no other way of catching him, we can always bait our line with the ring. I shall have him, Doctor - I'll lay you two to one that I have him.
I must thank you for it all. I might not have gone but for you, and so have missed the finest study I ever came across: a study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn't we use a little art jargon? There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it. And now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda.
Her attack and her bowing are splendid. What's that little thing of Chopin's she plays so magnificently: Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay. Leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound carolled away like a lark while I meditated upon the manysidedness of the human mind. Our morning's exertions had been too much for my weak health, and I was tired out in the afternoon. After Holmes's departure for the concert, I lay down upon the sofa and endeavoured to get a couple of hours' sleep.
It was a useless attempt. My mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred, and the strangest fancies and surmises crowded into it. Every time that I closed my eyes I saw before me the distorted, baboon-like countenance of the murdered man. So sinister was the impression which that face had produced upon me that I found it difficult to feel anything but gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world.
If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were certainly those of Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland. Still, I recognized that justice must be done, and that the depravity of the victim was no condonement in the eyes of the law.
The more I thought of it the more extraordinary did my companion's hypothesis, that the man had been poisoned, appear. I remembered how he had sniffed his lips, and had no doubt that he had detected something which had given rise to the idea.
Then, again, if not poison, what had caused the man's death, since there was neither wound nor marks of strangulation? But, on the other hand, whose blood was that which lay so thickly upon the floor? There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the victim any weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist. As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt that sleep would be no easy matter, either for Holmes or myself.
His quiet, selfconfident manner convinced me that he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts, though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture. He was very late in returning - so late that I knew that the concert could not have detained him all the time.
Dinner was on the table before he appeared. He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood. You're not looking quite yourself. This Brixton Road affair has upset you.
I saw my own comrades hacked to pieces at Maiwand without losing my nerve. There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination; where there is no imagination there is no horror. Have you seen the evening paper? It does not mention the fact that when the man was raised up a woman's wedding-ring fell upon the floor. It is just as well it does not. He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place indicated. It was the first announcement in the 'Found' column.
It is almost a facsimile. If he does not come himself, he will send an accomplice. If my view of the case is correct, and I have every reason to believe that it is, this man would rather risk anything than lose the ring.
According to my notion he dropped it while stooping over Drebber's body, and did not miss it at the time. After leaving the house he discovered his loss and hurried back, but found the police already in possession, owing to his own folly in leaving the candle burning.
He had to pretend to be drunk in order to allay the suspicions which might have been aroused by his appearance at the gate. Now put yourself in that man's place. On thinking the matter over, it must have occurred to him that it was possible that he had lost the ring in the road after leaving the house. What would he do then? He would eagerly look out for the evening papers in the hope of seeing it among the articles found.
His eye, of course, would alight upon this. He would be overjoyed. Why should he fear a trap? There would be no reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring should be connected with the murder.
He would come. He will come. You shall see him within an hour. He will be a desperate man; and though I shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready for anything. I went to my bed-room and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol, the table had been cleared, and Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.
My view of the case is the correct one. When the fellow comes, speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest to me. Don't frighten him by looking at him too hard. He will probably be here in a few minutes. Open the door slightly. That will do. Now put the key on the inside. Thank you! Charles's head was still firm on his shoulders when this little brown-backed volume was struck off. On the flyleaf, in very faded ink, is written "Ex libris Gulielmi Whyte. Some pragmatical seventeenth-century lawyer, I suppose.
His writing has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man, I think. As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell. Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the direction of the door. We heard the servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of the latch as she opened it. We could not hear the servant's reply, but the door closed, and someone began to ascend the stairs.
The footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one. A look of surprise passed over the face of my companion as he listened to it. It came slowly along the passage, and there was a feeble tap at the door. At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.
She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinking at us with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous shaky fingers. I glanced at my companion, and his face had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all I could do to keep my countenance. The old crone drew out an evening paper, and pointed at our advertisement. It belongs to my girl Sally, as was married only this time twelve-month, which her husband is steward aboard a Union boat, and what he'd say if he come 'ome and found her without her ring is more than I can think, he being short enough at the best o' times, but more especially when he has the drink.
If it please you, she went to the circus last night along with-'. That's the ring. The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him from her little red-rimmed eyes.
With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude the old crone packed it away in her pocket, and shuffled off down the stairs Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet the moment that she was gone and rushed into his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster and a cravat. Wait up for me. Looking through the window I could see her walking feebly along the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little distance behind. It was close upon nine when he set out.
Ten o'clock passed, and I heard the footsteps of the maid as they pattered off to bed. Eleven, and the more stately tread of the landlady passed my door, bound for the same destination. It was close upon twelve before I heard the sharp sound of his latch-key. The instant he entered I saw by his face that he had not been successful.
Amusement and chagrin seemed to be struggling for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried the day, and he burst into a hearty laugh. I can afford to laugh, because I know that I will be even with them in the long run. That creature had gone a little way when she began to limp and show every sign of being footsore. Presently she came to a halt, and hailed a four-wheeler which was passing.
I managed to be close to her so as to hear the address, but I need not have been so anxious, for she sang it out loud enough to be heard at the other side of the street: "Drive to 13, Duncan Street, Houndsditch," she cried.
This begins to look genuine, I thought, and having seen her safely inside, I perched myself behind. That's an art which every detective should be an expert at. Well, away we rattled, and never drew rein until we reached the street in question. I hopped off before we came to the door, and strolled down the street in an easy lounging way.
I saw the cab pull up. The driver jumped down, and I saw him open the door and stand expectantly. Nothing came out though. When I reached him, he was groping about frantically in the empty cab, and giving vent to the finest assorted collection of oaths that ever I listened to. There was no sign or trace of his passenger, and I fear it will be some time before he gets his fare. On inquiring at Number 13 we found that the house belonged to a respectable paperhanger, named Keswick, and that no one of the name either of Sawyer or Dennis had ever been heard of there.
It must have been a young man, and an active one, too, besides being an incomparable actor. The get-up was inimitable. He saw that he was followed, no doubt, and used this means of giving me the slip. It shows that the man we are after is not as lonely as I imagined he was, but has friends who are ready to risk something for him. Now, Doctor, you are looking done-up. Take my advice and turn in.
I was certainly feeling very weary, so I obeyed his injunction. I left Holmes seated in front of the smouldering fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that he was still pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself to unravel.
The papers next day were full of the 'Brixton Mystery', as they termed it. Each had a long account of the affair, and some had leaders upon it in addition. There was some information in them which was new to me. I still retain in my scrap-book numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case.
Here is a condensation of a few of them. The Daily Telegraph remarked that in the history of crime there had seldom been a tragedy which presented stranger features. The German name of the victim, the absence of all other motive, and the sinister inscription on the wall, all pointed to its perpetration by political refugees and revolutionists. The Socialists had many branches in America, and the deceased had, no doubt, infringed their unwritten laws, and been tracked down by them.
After alluding airily to the Vehmgericht, aqua tofana, Carbonari, the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, the Darwinian theory, the principles of Malthus, and the Ratcliff Highway murders, the article concluded by admonishing the Government and advocating a closer watch over foreigners in England. The Standard commented upon the fact that lawless outrages of the sort usually occurred under a Liberal Administration. They arose from the unsettling of the minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening of all authority.
The deceased was an American gentleman who had been residing for some weeks in the Metropolis. He was accompanied in his travels by his private secretary, Mr Joseph Stangerson. The two bade adieu to their landlady upon Tuesday, the 4th inst. They were afterwards seen together upon the platform. Nothing more is known of them until Mr Drebber's body was, as recorded, discovered in an empty house in the Brixton Road, many miles from Euston.
How he came there, or how he met his fate, are questions which are still involved in mystery. Nothing is known of the whereabouts of Stangerson. We are glad to learn that Mr Lestrade and Mr Gregson, of Scotland Yard, are both engaged upon the case, and it is confidently anticipated that these well-known officers will speedily throw light upon the matter.
The Daily News observed that there was no doubt as to the crime being a political one. The despotism and hatred of Liberalism which animated the Continental Governments had had the effect of driving to our shores a number of men who might have made excellent citizens were they not soured by the recollection of all that they had undergone. Among these men there was a stringent code of honour, any infringement of which was punished by death.
Every effort should be made to find the secretary, Stangerson, and to ascertain some particulars of the habits of the deceased. A great step had been gained by the discovery of the address of the house at which he had boarded - a result which was entirely due to the acuteness and energy of Mr Gregson of Scotland Yard. Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him considerable amusement.
If the man is caught, it will be on account of their exertions; if he escapes, it will be in spite of their exertions. It's heads I win and tails you lose. Whatever they do, they will have followers. Have you found it, Wiggins? You must keep on until you do. Here are your wages. He waved his hand, and they scampered away downstairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices next moment in the street. These youngsters, however, go everywhere, and hear everything.
They are as sharp as needles, too; all they want is organization. It is merely a matter of time. Here is Gregson coming down the road with beatitude written upon every feature of his face. Bound for us, I know. Yes, he is stopping. There he is! There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few seconds the fair-haired detective came up the stairs, three steps at a time, and burst into our sitting-room.
I have made the whole thing as clear as day. Why, sir, we have the man under lock and key. Will you have some whiskey and water? The tremendous exertions which I have gone through during the last day or two have worn me out. Not so much bodily exertion, you understand, as the strain upon the mind. You will appreciate that, Mr Sherlock Holmes, for we are both brain-workers. The detective seated himself in the arm-chair, and puffed complacently at his cigar. Then suddenly he slapped his thigh in a paroxysm of amusement.
He is after the secretary Stangerson, who had no more to do with the crime than the babe unborn. I have no doubt that he has caught him by this time. Of course, Doctor Watson, this is strictly between ourselves. The first difficulty which we had to contend with was the finding of this American's antecedents.
Some people would have waited until their advertisements were answered, or until parties came forward and volunteered information. That is not Tobias Gregson's way of going to work. You remember the hat beside the dead man? He looked over his books, and came on it at once. Thus I got his address. Her daughter was in the room, too - an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes and her lips trembled as I spoke to her.
That didn't escape my notice. I began to smell a rat. You know that feeling, Mr Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon the right scent - a kind of thrill in your nerves. Drebber, of Cleveland? She didn't seem able to get out a word. The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than ever that these people knew something of the matter. He was to catch the first. Her features turned perfectly livid.
It was some seconds before she could get out the single word "Yes" - and when it did come it was in a husky, unnatural tone. We did see Mr Drebber again. Besides, you do not know how much we know of it. Do not imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appear to be compromised.
That, however, is surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all without omitting any particular. He and his secretary, Mr Stangerson, had been travelling on the Continent. I noticed a 'Copenhagen' label upon each of their trunks, showing that that had been their last stopping place. Stangerson was a quiet, reserved man, but his employer, I am sorry to say, was far otherwise.
He was coarse in his habits and brutish in his ways. The very night of his arrival he became very much the worse for drink, and, indeed, after twelve o'clock in the day he could hardly ever be said to be sober. His manners towards the maid-servants were disgustingly free and familiar. Worst of all, he speedily assumed the same attitude towards my daughter Alice, and spoke to her more than once in a way which, fortunately, she is too innocent to understand.
On one occasion he actually seized her in his arms and embraced her - an outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him for his unmanly conduct. They were paying a pound a day each - fourteen pounds a week, and this is the slack season.
I am a widow, and my boy in the Navy has cost me much. I grudged to lose the money. I acted for the best. This last was too much, however, and I gave him notice to leave on account of it. That was the reason of his going. My son is on leave just now, but I did not tell him anything of all this, for his temper is violent, and he is passionately fond of his sister.
When I closed the door behind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. Alas, in less than an hour there was a ring at the bell, and I learned that Mr Drebber had returned. He was much excited, and evidently the worse for drink. He forced his way into the room, where I was sitting with my daughter, and made some incoherent remark about having missed the train.
He then turned to Alice, and before my very face proposed to her that she should fly with him. I have money enough and to spare. Never mind the old girl here, but come along with me now straight away. You shall live like a princess. I screamed, and at that moment my son Arthur came into the room. What happened then I do not know. I heard oaths and the confused sounds of a scuffle.
I was too terrified to raise my head. When I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand. The next morning we heard of Mr Drebber's mysterious death. At times she spoke so low that I could hardly catch the words. I made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should be no possibility of a mistake. Fixing her with my eye in a way which I always found effective with women, I asked her at what hour her son returned. I found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took two officers with me, and arrested him.
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