The Five Orange Pips

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The five orange bips by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years 82 and 90,

I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter

to know which to choose and which to leave.

Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers.

And others have not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed

in so higher degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate.

Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending.

While others have been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations found it

rather upon conjecture and some eyes, than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him.

There is, however, one of these last, which was so remarkable in its details,

and so starking in its results, that I am tempted to give some account of it,

in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which have never been,

and probably never will be, entirely cleared up.

The year 87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less interest,

of which I retain the records.

Among my headings under this one, 12 months, I find an account of the adventures of the Paradol Chamber,

of the amateur mendicant society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse.

Of the facts connected with the loss of the British-Bark, Sophie Anderson,

of the singular adventures of the Gryse-Patterns in the island of Auffa,

and finally of the Camboyle Poisoning case.

In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes was able,

by winding up the Dead's Man's watch, to prove that it had been wound up at two hours before,

and that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time,

a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case.

All these, I may sketch out at some future date,

but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances,

which I have now taken up my pen and to describe.

It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctual gales had set in with exceptional violence.

All day, the wind had screamed, and the rain had beaten against the windows.

So that even here, the heart of grand, handmade London,

we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life,

and to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces,

which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation,

like untamed beasts in a cage.

As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder,

and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney.

Chinocombs set moodily at one side of the fireplace,

cross-indexing his records of crime, while I, at the other,

was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea stories,

until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text,

and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves.

My wife was on a visit to her mothers, and for a few days I was a dweller once more,

in my old quarters at Baker Street.

Why, said I'd lancing up at my companion, that was sure of the bell,

who could come tonight some friend of yours, perhaps?

Except yourselves I have none, he answered.

I do not encourage visitors.

A client, then.

If so, it is a serious case.

Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and such an hour,

but I take it that is more likely to be some crony of the landlady's.

Shuttle curbs was wrong in his conjecture, however,

for they came a step in the passage at a tapping at the door.

He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself

and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.

Come in, said he.

The mad who entered was young, some two and twenty at the outside,

well groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing.

The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and his long, shining waterproof,

told of the fierce weather through which he had come.

He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp,

and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy,

like those of a man whose weighed down with some great anxiety.

I owe you an apology, he said, raising his golden parsnay to his eyes.

I trust that I am not intruding.

I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber.

Now give me your coat and umbrella, said Holmes.

They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently.

You have come up from the south-west, I see.

Yes, from Horsham.

That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive.

I have come for advice, and that is easy to got, and help.

That is not always so easy.

I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes.

I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved him in the tank of your club scandal.

Out, of course, he was wrongly accused of cheating at cards.

He said that you could solve anything, and he said too much,

that you are never beaten.

I have been beaten four times, three times by men, and once by a woman.

But what is that, compared with the number of your successes?

It is true that I have been generally successful.

Then you may be so with me.

I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some details as to your case.

It is no ordinary one.

None of those which come to me are.

I am the last court of appeal.

And yet I question so whether in all your experience you have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which have happened in my own family.

You fill me with interest, said Holmes.

Pray, give us your central facts from the commencement, as I can afterwards question you as to those details which seem to me to be most important.

The young man pulled up his chair and pushed his wet feet out towards the blaze.

My name, said he, is John Openshore.

But my own affairs have, as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful business.

It is a hereditary matter.

So in order to give you any idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the affair.

You must know that my grandfather had two sons, my uncle Elias and my father Joseph.

My father had a small factory at Coventry which he enlarged at the time of the invention of the bicycling.

He was a patentee of the Openshore Unbreakable Tire, and his business met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence.

My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and became a planter in Florida where he was reported to have done very well.

At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army and afterwards underhood, where he rose to be a colonel.

When Lee laid down his arms, my uncle returned to his plantation where he remained for three or four years.

About 1869 or 1870 came back to Europe and took a smaller state in Sussex near Horsham.

He had made a very considerable fortune in the states, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the Negroes, and his dislike of the public and policy in extending the franchise to them.

He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul mouth when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition.

During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if he ever set foot in the town.

He had a garden and two or three fields around his house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave his room.

He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends, not even his own brother.

He didn't mind me, in fact he took a fancy to me, for at the time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so.

This would be the 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England.

He begged my father to let me live with him, and he was very kind to me in his way.

When he was sober, he used to be fond of playing black gamin and drafts with me, and he would make his representative both with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time I was sixteen I was quite master of the house.

I kept all the keys, and I could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy.

There was one singular exception, however.

For he had a single room, a lumber room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter.

With a boy's curiosity I had peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as it would be expected in such a room.

One day, he was in March 1883, a letter with a foreign stamp layup on the table in front of the colonel's plate.

It was not a common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort.

From India, said he easy took it up.

Pundit Sherry postmark, what can this be?

Opening it hurriedly, out that jumped, five little dried orange pips, which patterned down upon his plate.

I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck for my lips at the sight of his face.

His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand.

Hey, hey, hey, he shrieked, and then my god, my god, my sins have overtaken me!

What is it uncle, I cried?

Death, said he, and rising from the table, he retard his room, leaving me palpitating with horror.

I took off-

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The envelope and saw scrolled in red ink upon the inner flap just above the gum.

The letter K, three times repeated.

There was nothing else, save the five dried pips.

Or could be the reason of his overpowering terror.

I left the breakfast table, and as I ascended the stair, I met in coming down with an old rusty key,

which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small brass box, like a cash box, in the other.

They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still," said he, with an oath.

Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room today, and send out the Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.

I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived, I was asked to step up to the room.

The fire was burning brightly, and in the great there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes as of burned paper,

while the brass box stood open and empty, beside it.

As I'd launched the box, I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K,

which I read in the morning upon the envelope.

I wish you, John," said my uncle, to witness my will.

I leave my state with all its advantages, and all its disadvantages to my brother, your father,

when it will no doubt descend to you.

If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good, if you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy,

and leave it to your deadliest enemy.

I'm sorry to give you such a too edged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to take.

Kindest sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shares you.

I sign the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him.

The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression upon me,

and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind, without being able to make anything of it.

Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread, which it left behind.

The sensation grew less clean as the weeks passed, and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives.

I could see a change in my uncle, however.

He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society.

Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the inside.

But sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy, and were burst out of the house and tear about the garden,

with revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man,

and that he was not to be cooped up like a sheep in a pen by man or devil.

When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door,

and lock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brace it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul.

At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day,

glistened with moisture, as though a new rays from a basin.

Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse your patience,

they came a night when he made one of those drunken saddies from which he never came back.

We found him, when we went to search for him,

faced downward in a little green scummed pool which lay at the foot of the garden.

There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep,

so the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of suicide.

But I, who knew how he winced from the very thought of death,

had much to do to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it.

The matter passed, however, and my father entered in a possession of the estate

and of some £14,000 which lay to his credit at the bank.

At one moment, Holmes, interposed, your statement is, I foresee,

one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened.

Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter,

and the date of his supposed suicide.

The letter arrived on March 10, 1883.

His death was seven weeks later upon the night of May 2nd.

Thank you, pray proceed.

When my father took over the Horsham property,

he at my request made a careful examination of the attic

which had always been locked up.

We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed.

On the inside of the cover was a paper label,

with the initials of K, K, K repeated upon it,

and letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register, written beneath.

These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers

which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw.

For the rest, there was nothing much important

as the attic saved a great many scattered papers and notebooks

bearing upon my uncle's life in America.

Some of them were of the wartime and showed that he had done his duty well

and had borne the repute of a brave soldier.

Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the southern state

so were most concerned with politics,

for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag

politicians who had been sent down from the north.

Well, it was the beginning of 84

where my father came to live at Horsham

and all went as well as possible with us until the January of 85.

On the fourth day after the New Year,

I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise

as we sat together at the breakfast table.

There he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand,

and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other.

He'd always laughed at what he called my cock and bull story about the Colonel,

but he looked very scared and puzzled

now that the same thing had come upon himself.

What, what, what, what, what, what, an athlete? This means, John!

He stammered.

My heart had turned to lead.

It is KKK, said I.

He looked inside the envelope.

So it is, he cried, here are the very letters,

but what is this written above them?

Put the papers on the sundial.

I read, peeping over his shoulder.

What papers, what sundial, he asked?

The sundial on the garden, there is no other, said I,

but the papers must be those that are destroyed.

Ah, said he, gripping hard at his courage.

We are in a civilized land here, and we can't have Tom Foulery of this kind.

Where does the thing come from?

From Dundee, I answered, glancing at the postmark.

Some preposterous practical joke, said he,

what have I to do with sundials and papers I should take no notice of such nonsense?

I should certainly speak to the police, I said,

and be laughed up for my pains, nothing of the sort.

Then let me do so.

No, I forbid you, you won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.

It was in vain to argue with him for he was a very obstinate man.

I went about however, with a heart which was full of full buildings.

On the third day after the coming of the latter, my father went from home

to visit an old friend of his, major free body,

who is in command of one of the forts upon Port Stone Hill.

I was glad that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger

when he was away from home.

In that, however, I was in error.

Upon the second day of his absence, I received a telegram for the major,

imploring me to come at once.

My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk pits,

which are bound to the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless with a shattered skull.

I hurried to him, but he passed away without ever having recovered his consciousness.

He had, as his appeared, been returning from phoerem in the twilight,

and as the country was unknown to him and the chalk pit unfenced,

the jury had no hesitation in bringing a verdict of death from accidental causes.

Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death,

I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder

that was no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery,

no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads.

And yet, I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease,

and that I was well-nice certain that some foul plot had been woven round him.

In this sinister way, I came into my inheritance.

You will ask me why I did not dispose of it.

I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an instant in my uncle's life,

and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another.

He was in January 85 that my poor father met his end,

and two years and eight months have elapsed since then.

During that time, I have lived happily at awesomen,

and I have begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family

and that it had ended with the last generation.

I began to take comfort too soon, however.

Yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape

and which had come upon my father.

The old man took from his waistcoat, crumpled envelope,

and turned into the table, he shook out upon it,

five little dried orange pips.

This is the envelope, he continued to the post-market in London, Eastern Division,

within the very words which were to report my father's last message.

K K K, and then put the papers on the sundial.

What have you done, asked Holmes?

Nothing. Nothing.

To tell the truth, he sank his face into his thin white hands.

I have felt helpless.

I felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it.

I seem to be in the grasp of some resisteless, inexorable evil,

which no foresight and no precautions can guard against.

Oh, tut tut, cried Sherlock Holmes, you must act man, or you are lost.

Nothing but energy can save you, there is no time for despair.

I've seen the police.

Ah, now they listen to my story with a smile.

I convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that that has raw practical jokes

and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents as a jury stated,

and were not to be connected with the warnings.

Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air.

Incredible impassility, he cried.

They have, however, alive.

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Let me appeasement who may remain in the house with me.

Has he come with you tonight?

No, his orders were to stay in the house.

Again, Holmes raved in the air.

Why did you come to me, he cried, and above all, why did you not come at once?

I did not know.

He was only today that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles.

I was advised by him to come to you.

It is really two days since you had the letter we should have acted upon this.

You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before us,

no suggestive detail which might help us?

There is one thing, said John Openshore.

He rummaged in his coat pocket, and drawing out a piece of discolored blue tinted paper,

he laid it upon the table.

I have some remembrance, said he, that on the day when my uncle burned the papers,

I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour.

I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers

which had perhaps fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction.

Beyond the mention of Pips, I do not see that it helps as much.

I think myself that it is a page from some private diary.

At the writing is undoubtedly my uncle's.

Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper which showed by its ragged edge

that it had indeed been torn from a book.

He was headed, March 1869, and beneath, with a following enigmatic notices.

Fourth, Hudson came, same old platform.

Seventh, set the pips on McCauley Paramoor and John Swayne of Sundergusting.

Ninth, McCauley cleared.

Tenth, John Swayne cleared.

Twelve, visited Paramoor or well.

Thank you, said Holmes, fully up the paper and returning it to our visitor.

And now you must, on no count, lose another instant.

We cannot spare time even to discuss what you told me.

You must get home instantly and act.

What shall I do?

And there is about one thing to do. You must be done at once.

You must put this piece of paper which you've shown us into the brass box which you've described.

You must also put in it a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle,

and that this is the only one which remains.

You must assert that in such words, as will carry conviction with them.

Having done this, you must have once put the boss out upon the sundial as directed.

Do you understand?

Entirely.

Do not think of revenge or anything of the sort at present.

I think that we may gain that by means of the law, but we have our way but to weave while there is already woven.

The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you.

The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties.

I thank you, said the young man rising and pulling on his overcoat.

You have given me fresh life and hope.

I shall certainly do as you advise.

Do not lose an instant.

And above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile,

for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger.

How do you go back?

By train from Waterloo.

It is not yet nine.

The streets will be crowded so I trust that you may be in safety,

and yet you cannot guard yourself too closely.

I am armed.

That is well.

Tomorrow I shall set to work upon your case.

I shall see you at Horsham then.

No, 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 to the box of the papers.

I shall take your advice in every particular.

He shall cancel this and took his leave.

Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and patted against the windows.

This strange wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements,

blown in upon us like a sheet of seaweed in a gale,

and now to be reabsorbed by them once more.

Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence with his head sunk forward

and his eyes bent upon the red love the far.

Then he lit his pipe,

and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.

I think Watson, he remarked last,

that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this.

Say perhaps the sign of four?

Well, yes, say perhaps that,

and yet this John open-chorps seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the shelters.

But have you, I asked, formed any definite conception as to what these perils are?

There can be no question as to their nature, he answered.

Then what are they?

Who is this KKK and why does he pursue this unhappy family?

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arm of his chair with his fingertips together.

The ideal reasoner here, Mark, would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings,

did you use from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it,

but also all of the results which would follow from it?

As Kuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone,

so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents

should be able to accurately state all the other ones both before and after.

We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attend to.

Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those,

which have sought a solution by the aid of their senses.

To carry the art however to its highest pitch,

it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilize all the facts which have come to his knowledge.

And this in itself implies, as you will readily see,

a possession of all knowledge, which even in these days a free education and encyclopedias

is a somewhat rare accomplishment.

It is not so impossible however that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work,

and this I have endeavoured in my case to do.

If I remember rightly, you won one occasion in the early days of our friendship,

defined by limits in a very precise fashion.

Yes, I answered laughing.

It was a singular document, philosophy, astronomy and politics were marched to zero,

I remember the botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud stains when he reached within 50 miles of time.

Chemistry is centric anatomy unsystematic,

sensational literature and crime records unique.

Valimplier, Boxer, Swordsman, Lawyer and self-poisoner by Cacane and Tobacco.

Those I think were the main points of my analysis.

Hems grinned at the last item.

Well, he said, I say now as I said then that a man should keep his little brain addict stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use,

and the rest, he can put away in the lumber room of his library where he can get it if he wants it.

Now for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us tonight,

we need certainly to muster all our resources, kindly hand me down the letter K of the American Encyclopedia,

which stands upon the self-shelf beside you.

Thank you.

Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it.

In the first place we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America.

Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida

for the lonely life of an English provincial town.

His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something,

so he may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from America.

As to what it was he feared, we can then deduce that by that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and his successor.

Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?

The first was from Ponticherry, the second from Dundee and the third from London.

From East London.

What did you deduce from that?

They're all seaports.

Did the writer was on board a ship?

Excellent.

We have already a clue.

There could be no doubt that the probability, the strong probability, is that the writer was on board a ship.

And how did it consider another point?

In the case of Ponticherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment.

In Dundee, there was only some three or four days.

Does that suggest anything?

A greater distance to travel.

But the letter had also a greater distance to come.

Then I do not see the point.

There is least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing ship.

It looks as though they always sent their singular warnings or took them before them when starting upon their mission.

You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee.

If they had come from Ponticherry in a steamer, they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter.

But as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed.

I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mailboat, which brought the letter and the sailing vessel, which brought the writer.

It is possible.

More than that, it is probable.

And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urge young open shore to caution.

The blow has already fallen at the end of the time when it should have taken the senders to travel the distance.

But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay.

God, I cried, what can it mean this relentless persecution?

The papers which open shore carried are obviously of vital importance to the person or persons in the sailing ship.

I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them.

A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jewellery.

There must have been several in it, and there must have been men of resource and determination.

The papers they need to have to be the old holder of them.

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From who it may?

In this way, you see K, K, K ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society.

But of what society?

Have you never said Sherlock Holmes bending forward and singing his voice?

Have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?

I never have.

Holmes turned over the leaves of the book, and one is knee.

Here it is, said he presently.

Ku Klux Klan, a name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle.

This terrible sequence of society was formed by some ex-confederate soldiers in the southern states after the Civil War,

and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida.

Its par was used for political purposes, principally, for the terrorizing of the Negro voters,

and the murdering and driving for the country of those who were opposed to its views.

Its outrages were used to proceed by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognized shape.

A sprig of oak leaves in some parts, melon seeds, or orange pips in others.

On receiving this, the victim might either openly objure his former ways, or might fly from the country.

If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner.

So perfect was the organization of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there's hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it within punity,

or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the perpetrators.

For some years, the organization flourished, in spite of the efforts of the United States government, and of the better classes of the community in the south.

Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.

A you'll observe, said Holmes, laying down the volume, that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of open shore from America with their papers.

It may well have been cause and effect, it is no wonder the tea in his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track.

You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the south, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered.

Then the page we have seen, is such as we might expect it ran as if I remember right, sent the Pips to ABC, that is, sent the societies warning to them.

Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, all of the country, and finally that C was visited, with I fear a sinister result for C.

Well, I think, Doctor, there may be let some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young open shore has in the meantime is to do what I have told him.

There is nothing more to be said or to be done tonight, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather, and the still more miserable ways of our fellow men.

It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with the subdued brightness through dim veil which hangs over the greater city.

Sherlock Holmes was already a breakfast when I came down.

You would excuse me for not waiting for you, said he.

I have, I foresee, a very busy day before me, and looking into this case of young open shores.

Or what steps would you take, I asked.

It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I may have to go down to Horsham after all.

You will not go down there first. No, I shall commence with the city. Just ring the bell, and the maid will bring you up your coffee.

As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it.

It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart. Holmes, I cried, you are too late!

Ah, said he laying down his cup, I fear as much. How was it done?

He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

My eye caught the name of open shore and the heading, tragedy near Waterloo Bridge.

Here is the account.

Between 9 and 10 last night, peace such a consumable cook of the H Division on duty near Waterloo Bridge

had a cry for help and a splash in the water.

The night however was extremely dark and stormy, so that in spite of the help of several passes by,

it was quite impossible to effect a rescue.

The alarm however was given, and by the aid of the water police, the body was eventually recovered.

It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket,

was John Openchorn, whose residence is near Horsham.

It is injected that he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo Station,

and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path, and walked over the edge

of one of the small landing places for river steamboats.

The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the disease to be the victim of an unfortunate accident,

which would have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities the condition of the riverside landing stages.

We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken than I have ever seen him.

''That hurts my pride, Watson,'' he said at last.

''It is a petty feeling no doubt, but it hurts my pride, it becomes a personal matter with me now,

and if God sends me health I shall set my hand upon this gang.

That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to his death.''

He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation,

with a flush upon his cello cheeks, and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long, thin hands.

''There must be cunning devils,'' he explained at last.

''How could they have decoyed him down there? The embankment is not on the direct line to the station.

The bridge no doubt was too crowded even on such a night for their purpose.

''Well Watson, we shall see who will will in the long run. I am going out now.

To the police? No, I should be my own police, when I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before.''

''All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the evening before I returned to Baker Street.

Sherlock Holmes had not come back yet.

It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale and worn.

He walked up to the side-board, and tearing a piece from the loaf he divide it for graciously,

washing it down with a long draft of water.

''You are hungry, I remarked.

Starving, it has escaped my memory, I have had nothing since breakfast.

Nothing? Not a bite, I had no time to think of it.''

''And how have you succeeded?''

''Well, you have a clue?

I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young open sure shall not long remain unaventaged, why Watson?

Let us put that own devilish trademark upon them. It is well thought of.''

''What do you mean?''

He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he squeezed out the pips upon the table.

Of these he took five and thrust them into an envelope.

On the inside the flap he wrote, ''SH for J.O.''

Then he sealed it and addressed it to, ''Captain James Calhoun, Bach, Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia.''

''And that will await him when he enters Port.''

Said he chucked him. ''It may give him a sleepless night.

He would find it as sure a precursor of his fate as open sure did before him.''

''And who is this Captain Calhoun?''

''The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.''

''How did you trace it then?''

He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates and names.

I spent the whole day, said he overloids, registers and files of the old papers,

following the future career of every vessel which touched upon Dicherry in January and February in 83.

There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months.

Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly attracted my attention since,

although it was reported having clear from London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the Union.

''Texas, I think. I was not, and I'm not sure which, but I knew that the ship must have an American origin.''

''What then?''

''I searched the Dundy records, and when I found that the Bach Lone Star was there in January 85,

my suspicion became a certainty.''

''I then inquired as to the vessels which lay present in the port of London.''

''Yes?''

The Lone Star had arrived here last week.

I went down to the Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning,

homeward bound to Savannah.

I wired to Graves' end and learned that she had passed some time ago,

and as the wind is easterly, I have no doubt that she has now passed the goobins and not very far from the hour of white.''

''What would you do then?''

''Oh, I have my hand upon him.''

''He and the two mates are, as I learn, the only native born American to the ship, the others of Thins and Germans.

I know also that they were all three away from the ship last night.

I had it from the seabedore who has been learning their cargo.

By the time that their sailing ship reaches Savannah, the male boat would have carried this letter,

and the cable would have informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen

are badly wanted here, upon a charge of murder.''

There is ever a floor however, in the best laid of human plans,

and the murderers of John Open Shore were never to receive the orange pips which would show them that another,

as alkaning and as resolute as themselves, was upon their tracks.

Very long, and very severe were the equinoctual gales at here.

Rated long for news of the lone star of Savannah, but none ever reached us.

We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic,

a shattered stern post of the boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave,

with the letters L-S carved upon it.

And that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the lone star.''

And of the five orange pips.

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