Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 1

Chapter 26 Four Signatures 4
Holmes did not return until 05:30.His elation showed that he had found some valuable clues.

I poured him a cup of tea, and he held up the cup and said, "This case is not complicated, and there is only one explanation for connecting the circumstances."

"What, you already figured out the truth?"

"Not so sure yet. But I have found a very suggestive lead, though some details have to be put in. I have found the ex-Bombay Army at Upper Rowwood from an old Times." News from Major Sholto of the No. 30 28th Regiment, who died on April [-], [-]."

"Holmes, perhaps I have been slow to react. I do not understand. What has his death to do with this case?"

"You really don't know? I didn't expect that. Let's change the angle. Captain Morstein went back to London, and the only person who could have gone to see Major Sholto, but after he disappeared, Major Sholto denied him. The captain's friend came to London to look for him. Four years later, Sholto died. And less than a week after his death, Captain Morstein's daughter received the first pearl, such an expensive gift, Once a year thereafter; and now I receive a letter saying that she is a wronged woman. What misfortune is there but the loss of her father? Also, why is Sholto sent such a valuable gift a few days after Sholto's death? What about her? Could it be that the descendants of Sholto knew some of these secrets and wanted to atone for the sins of their ancestors? What do you think of the above facts?

"It's unbelievable, what a strange compensation! The way is outrageous! Besides, why did he write the letter now instead of six years ago? Also, the letter said justice would be given to her. What justice is she going to get?" What. Give her her father back? Is that impossible? But you deny that she has been wronged otherwise."

Holmes pondered: "There are indeed some things that people can't figure out, but everything will be solved when we get there tonight. Look, there is a carriage, and Miss Morstan is sitting in it. You are all ready Is it? We must hurry down, there is not much time."

I put on my hat and took a thick stick, while Holmes took the pistol from the drawer and put it in his pocket.It shows that he sees some kind of risk in our work tonight.

Miss Mostan was wearing a black coat and a scarf. Although she tried her best to maintain a calm expression, her face was pale.If she didn't feel any uneasiness about our strange adventure tonight, she really had more stamina than ordinary women.Her self-control ability is very strong, and she answered several new questions raised by Holmes one by one.

"Major Sholto was a very good friend of my father. My father mentioned him in almost every letter. He and my father were both officers of the Andaman Islands Garrison, so they were often together. I found in my father's desk. I did not know whether it had anything to do with the case, but I am afraid you would like to read it, so I have brought it."

Holmes carefully opened the note, laid it flat on his knee, and read it carefully with a double-layer magnifying glass. "This paper is native to India," he said. "It was nailed on boards in the past. The picture on the paper seems to be a large building with many rooms, corridors and passages. One of them is painted in red. The ink had drawn a small cross, and over it was vaguely written in pencil '337 from the left.' In the left corner of the paper was a cryptic symbol, resembling four joined crosses, flanked in extremely crude strokes It reads, 'Four Signatures - Jonathan Small; Mohomant Singh; Abdullah Khan; Dost Akbar. Relevant. But it is undoubtedly an important material. The paper was carefully kept in a wallet because it was neat on both sides."

"Found it in his wallet."

"Miss Morstan, you put it away. It may be useful to us later. It now seems necessary to reconsider the case. It is more complicated than I imagined. Now we have to start anew."

As he spoke, he leaned against the back of the seat.His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were fixed, showing that he was concentrating on thinking.Miss Morstan and I were talking softly about our actions and their consequences. Looking at Holmes, our companions were still meditating until we arrived at the destination of our actions.

It was an evening in September, it was not yet seven o'clock, but the sky was already very gray, a thick fog hung over the populous city, the streets were muddy, and the sky hung low with depressing dark clouds, By the road by the lakeside in London, when the dim street lights projected onto the muddy sidewalk, only the glimmer of fireflies remained.The faint yellow lights shot from the shops on both sides of the road, through the confused fog, shone with difficulty on the bustling street.I was thinking that there would be infinite grotesque and bizarre deeds among the endless stream of pedestrians illuminated by the flashing lights, whether they were smiling or sad.Just like a person's life, he always goes from darkness to light, and finally walks out of light and returns to darkness.

I am not a sentimental person, but this dreary night, and the strange things we are about to experience tonight, make me nervous and emotional.From the behavior of Miss Morstan, I can clearly feel that she also has the same feeling as me.Only Holmes remained calm, as if everything in the outside world had nothing to do with him.By the light of the flashlight, he kept writing on the notepad on his lap.

The audience huddled at the entrance to the Lyceham Theatre.All kinds of carriages are still coming.Gentlemen and ladies in costumes got out of the car one by one.We had just approached the third pillar when a strong, unremarkable man in a coachman's clothes came towards us.

"Are you here with the Morstan team?"

Our client was the first to answer, "Miss Morstan is here, and they are my friends."

The man looked at us aggressively and insisted, "Excuse me, but you must ensure that there are no policemen among your companions."

She replied, "I promise."

He whistled once, and saw a tramp-looking figure pull up to us in a four-wheeler and open the door.The person who greeted us sat down on the coachman's seat, and we got into the carriage. Before we could sit still, the wheels started to turn, the carriage was moving forward quickly, and the street was full of smoke.

I am now in a strange situation, not knowing where or what to do.If it is said that this is a scam, there is no sign of it.I hope we will not run in vain this time, and at least we can get some important clues.Miss Morstan remained as unhurried as before.I tried to please and comfort her, telling her stories of my adventures in Afghanistan; The story is also absent-minded.To this day, she still laughs at the vivid story I told her: how I killed a double-barreled shotgun that came into the tent with a small tiger.At first, I could tell the direction of our route.However, due to the foggy weather and the fact that I was not familiar with the streets and alleys of London, after a while, I couldn't tell the north from the south.In addition to knowing that we have traveled a seemingly long distance, everything else is in the mind.Holmes never lost his way, and he could even tell the names of all the streets we passed while turning left and right.

"Roster Street," he said, "this is Wings Square, and we now have Hoxhull Bridge Road in front of us. Obviously, we are going to Surrey. Yes, we are on the bridge. Bridge On either side are the faint glints of the river."

We saw the night view of the Thames with its quiet water and twinkling lights.The carriage was still running, and in a moment we were again in the labyrinth of winding streets on the other side of the Thames.

"Hotshorse Road," continued my companion, "Abbey Road, Rackhall; Stockwell, Stockwell Square; Robert Street; Cold Harbor Lane. We are going to different places. It’s like an area where upper class people live.”

Sure enough, we came to a suspicious and scary neighborhood.At a glance, there are gray brick houses lined up on both sides of the street, completely shrouded in darkness, only the inn on the corner of the street is lit with tacky and harsh lights.After that, I saw several rows of two-story houses, each with a small garden in front of them, and then another row of new and conspicuous brick houses—this is a new district of the City of London.At last our carriage stopped before the third door of a new row of buildings along the slope.All the other houses were unoccupied, and in the house we docked, except for a little light from a window on the third floor, the other rooms were as dark as the neighbors.

Hearing a knock on the door, an Indian servant with a yellow turban on his head, a loose robe and a yellow belt around his waist opened the door and called us.

Come in, my master is waiting for you.Before he finished speaking, someone in the room shouted loudly: "Please come to me."

(End of this chapter)