The Adventure of the Cardboard Box By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle In choosing a few typical cases which illustrate the remarkable mentalqualities of my friend, Sherlock Holmes, I have endeavoured, as far aspossible, to select those which presented the minimum ofsensationalism, while offering a fair field for his talents. It is, however, unfortunately impossible entirely to separate the sensationalfrom the criminal, and a chronicler is left in the dilemma that he musteither sacrifice details which are essential to his statement and sogive a false impression of the problem, or he must use matter whichchance, and not choice, has provided him with. With this short prefaceI shall turn to my notes of what proved to be a strange, though apeculiarly terrible, chain of events. It was a blazing hot day in August. Baker Street was like an oven, andthe glare of the sunlight upon the yellow brickwork of the house acrossthe road was painful to the eye. It was hard to believe that thesewere the same walls which loomed so gloomily through the fogs ofwinter. Our blinds were half-drawn, and Holmes lay curled upon thesofa, reading and re-reading a letter which he had received by themorning post. For myself, my term of service in India had trained meto stand heat better than cold, and a thermometer at ninety was nohardship. But the morning paper was uninteresting. Parliament hadrisen. Everybody was out of town, and I yearned for the glades of theNew Forest or the shingle of Southsea. A depleted bank account hadcaused me to postpone my holiday, and as to my companion, neither thecountry nor the sea presented the slightest attraction to him. Heloved to lie in the very center of five millions of people, with hisfilaments stretching out and running through them, responsive to everylittle rumour or suspicion of unsolved crime. Appreciation of naturefound no place among his many gifts, and his only change was when heturned his mind from the evil-doer of the town to track down hisbrother of the country. Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation I had tossed sidethe barren paper, and leaning back in my chair I fell into a brownstudy. Suddenly my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts: "You are right, Watson, " said he. "It does seem a most preposterousway of settling a dispute. " "Most preposterous!" I exclaimed, and then suddenly realizing how hehad echoed the inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair andstared at him in blank amazement. "What is this, Holmes?" I cried. "This is beyond anything which Icould have imagined. " He laughed heartily at my perplexity. "You remember, " said he, "that some little time ago when I read you thepassage in one of Poe's sketches in which a close reasoner follows theunspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat thematter as a mere tour-de-force of the author. On my remarking that Iwas constantly in the habit of doing the same thing you expressedincredulity. " "Oh, no!" "Perhaps not with your tongue, my dear Watson, but certainly with youreyebrows. So when I saw you throw down your paper and enter upon atrain of thought, I was very happy to have the opportunity of readingit off, and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that I had beenin rapport with you. " But I was still far from satisfied. "In the example which you read tome, " said I, "the reasoner drew his conclusions from the actions of theman whom he observed. If I remember right, he stumbled over a heap ofstones, looked up at the stars, and so on. But I have been seatedquietly in my chair, and what clues can I have given you?" "You do yourself an injustice. The features are given to man as themeans by which he shall express his emotions, and yours are faithfulservants. " "Do you mean to say that you read my train of thoughts from myfeatures?" "Your features and especially your eyes. Perhaps you cannot yourselfrecall how your reverie commenced?" "No, I cannot. " "Then I will tell you. After throwing down your paper, which was theaction which drew my attention to you, you sat for half a minute with avacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your newlyframed picture of General Gordon, and I saw by the alteration in yourface that a train of thought had been started. But it did not leadvery far. Your eyes flashed across to the unframed portrait of HenryWard Beecher which stands upon the top of your books. Then you glancedup at the wall, and of course your meaning was obvious. You werethinking that if the portrait were framed it would just cover that barespace and correspond with Gordon's picture there. " "You have followed me wonderfully!" I exclaimed. "So far I could hardly have gone astray. But now your thoughts wentback to Beecher, and you looked hard across as if you were studying thecharacter in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but youcontinued to look across, and your face was thoughtful. You wererecalling the incidents of Beecher's career. I was well aware that youcould not do this without thinking of the mission which he undertook onbehalf of the North at the time of the Civil War, for I remember yourexpressing your passionate indignation at the way in which he wasreceived by the more turbulent of our people. You felt so stronglyabout it that I knew you could not think of Beecher without thinking ofthat also. When a moment later I saw your eyes wander away from thepicture, I suspected that your mind had now turned to the Civil War, and when I observed that your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and yourhands clenched I was positive that you were indeed thinking of thegallantry which was shown by both sides in that desperate struggle. Butthen, again, your face grew sadder, you shook your head. You weredwelling upon the sadness and horror and useless waste of life. Yourhand stole towards your own old wound and a smile quivered on yourlips, which showed me that the ridiculous side of this method ofsettling international questions had forced itself upon your mind. Atthis point I agreed with you that it was preposterous and was glad tofind that all my deductions had been correct. " "Absolutely!" said I. "And now that you have explained it, I confessthat I am as amazed as before. " "It was very superficial, my dear Watson, I assure you. I should nothave intruded it upon your attention had you not shown some incredulitythe other day. But I have in my hands here a little problem which mayprove to be more difficult of solution than my small essay I thoughtreading. Have you observed in the paper a short paragraph referring tothe remarkable contents of a packet sent through the post to MissCushing, of Cross Street, Croydon?" "No, I saw nothing. " "Ah! then you must have overlooked it. Just toss it over to me. Hereit is, under the financial column. Perhaps you would be good enough toread it aloud. " I picked up the paper which he had thrown back to me and read theparagraph indicated. It was headed, "A Gruesome Packet. " "Miss Susan Cushing, living at Cross Street, Croydon, has been made thevictim of what must be regarded as a peculiarly revolting practicaljoke unless some more sinister meaning should prove to be attached tothe incident. At two o'clock yesterday afternoon a small packet, wrapped in brown paper, was handed in by the postman. A cardboard boxwas inside, which was filled with coarse salt. On emptying this, MissCushing was horrified to find two human ears, apparently quite freshlysevered. The box had been sent by parcel post from Belfast upon themorning before. There is no indication as to the sender, and thematter is the more mysterious as Miss Cushing, who is a maiden lady offifty, has led a most retired life, and has so few acquaintances orcorrespondents that it is a rare event for her to receive anythingthrough the post. Some years ago, however, when she resided at Penge, she let apartments in her house to three young medical students, whomshe was obliged to get rid of on account of their noisy and irregularhabits. The police are of opinion that this outrage may have beenperpetrated upon Miss Cushing by these youths, who owed her a grudgeand who hoped to frighten her by sending her these relics of thedissecting-rooms. Some probability is lent to the theory by the factthat one of these students came from the north of Ireland, and, to thebest of Miss Cushing's belief, from Belfast. In the meantime, thematter is being actively investigated, Mr. Lestrade, one of the verysmartest of our detective officers, being in charge of the case. " "So much for the Daily Chronicle, " said Holmes as I finished reading. "Now for our friend Lestrade. I had a note from him this morning, inwhich he says: "I think that this case is very much in your line. We have every hopeof clearing the matter up, but we find a little difficulty in gettinganything to work upon. We have, of course, wired to the Belfastpost-office, but a large number of parcels were handed in upon thatday, and they have no means of identifying this particular one, or ofremembering the sender. The box is a half-pound box of honeydewtobacco and does not help us in any way. The medical student theorystill appears to me to be the most feasible, but if you should have afew hours to spare I should be very happy to see you out here. I shallbe either at the house or in the police-station all day. "What say you, Watson? Can you rise superior to the heat and run downto Croydon with me on the off chance of a case for your annals?" "I was longing for something to do. " "You shall have it then. Ring for our boots and tell them to order acab. I'll be back in a moment when I have changed my dressing-gown andfilled my cigar-case. " A shower of rain fell while we were in the train, and the heat was farless oppressive in Croydon than in town. Holmes had sent on a wire, sothat Lestrade, as wiry, as dapper, and as ferret-like as ever, waswaiting for us at the station. A walk of five minutes took us to CrossStreet, where Miss Cushing resided. It was a very long street of two-story brick houses, neat and prim, with whitened stone steps and little groups of aproned women gossipingat the doors. Halfway down, Lestrade stopped and tapped at a door, which was opened by a small servant girl. Miss Cushing was sitting inthe front room, into which we were ushered. She was a placid-facedwoman, with large, gentle eyes, and grizzled hair curving down over hertemples on each side. A worked antimacassar lay upon her lap and abasket of coloured silks stood upon a stool beside her. "They are in the outhouse, those dreadful things, " said she as Lestradeentered. "I wish that you would take them away altogether. " "So I shall, Miss Cushing. I only kept them here until my friend, Mr. Holmes, should have seen them in your presence. " "Why in my presence, sir?" "In case he wished to ask any questions. " "What is the use of asking me questions when I tell you I know nothingwhatever about it?" "Quite so, madam, " said Holmes in his soothing way. "I have no doubtthat you have been annoyed more than enough already over this business. " "Indeed I have, sir. I am a quiet woman and live a retired life. It issomething new for me to see my name in the papers and to find thepolice in my house. I won't have those things I here, Mr. Lestrade. If you wish to see them you must go to the outhouse. " It was a small shed in the narrow garden which ran behind the house. Lestrade went in and brought out a yellow cardboard box, with a pieceof brown paper and some string. There was a bench at the end of thepath, and we all sat down while Homes examined one by one, the articleswhich Lestrade had handed to him. "The string is exceedingly interesting, " he remarked, holding it up tothe light and sniffing at it. "What do you make of this string, Lestrade?" "It has been tarred. " "Precisely. It is a piece of tarred twine. You have also, no doubt, remarked that Miss Cushing has cut the cord with a scissors, as can beseen by the double fray on each side. This is of importance. " "I cannot see the importance, " said Lestrade. "The importance lies in the fact that the knot is left intact, and thatthis knot is of a peculiar character. " "It is very neatly tied. I had already made a note of that effect, "said Lestrade complacently. "So much for the string, then, " said Holmes, smiling, "now for the boxwrapper. Brown paper, with a distinct smell of coffee. What, did younot observe it? I think there can be no doubt of it. Address printedin rather straggling characters: 'Miss S. Cushing, Cross Street, Croydon. ' Done with a broad-pointed pen, probably a J, and with veryinferior ink. The word 'Croydon' has been originally spelled with an'i', which has been changed to 'y'. The parcel was directed, then, bya man--the printing is distinctly masculine--of limited education andunacquainted with the town of Croydon. So far, so good! The box is ayellow, half-pound honeydew box, with nothing distinctive save twothumb marks at the left bottom corner. It is filled with rough salt ofthe quality used for preserving hides and other of the coarsercommercial purposes. And embedded in it are these very singularenclosures. " He took out the two ears as he spoke, and laying a board across hisknee he examined them minutely, while Lestrade and I, bending forwardon each side of him, glanced alternately at these dreadful relics andat the thoughtful, eager face of our companion. Finally he returnedthem to the box once more and sat for a while in deep meditation. "You have observed, of course, " said he at last, "that the ears are nota pair. " "Yes, I have noticed that. But if this were the practical joke of somestudents from the dissecting-rooms, it would be as easy for them tosend two odd ears as a pair. " "Precisely. But this is not a practical joke. " "You are sure of it?" "The presumption is strongly against it. Bodies in thedissecting-rooms are injected with preservative fluid. These ears bearno signs of this. They are fresh, too. They have been cut off with ablunt instrument, which would hardly happen if a student had done it. Again, carbolic or rectified spirits would be the preservatives whichwould suggest themselves to the medical mind, certainly not rough salt. I repeat that there is no practical joke here, but that we areinvestigating a serious crime. " A vague thrill ran through me as I listened to my companion's words andsaw the stern gravity which had hardened his features. This brutalpreliminary seemed to shadow forth some strange and inexplicable horrorin the background. Lestrade, however, shook his head like a man who isonly half convinced. "There are objections to the joke theory, no doubt, " said he, "butthere are much stronger reasons against the other. We know that thiswoman has led a most quiet and respectable life at Penge and here forthe last twenty years. She has hardly been away from her home for aday during that time. Why on earth, then, should any criminal send herthe proofs of his guilt, especially as, unless she is a most consummateactress, she understands quite as little of the matter as we do?" "That is the problem which we have to solve, " Holmes answered, "and formy part I shall set about it by presuming that my reasoning is correct, and that a double murder has been committed. One of these ears is awoman's, small, finely formed, and pierced for an earring. The otheris a man's, sun-burned, discoloured, and also pierced for an earring. These two people are presumably dead, or we should have heard theirstory before now. To-day is Friday. The packet was posted on Thursdaymorning. The tragedy, then, occurred on Wednesday or Tuesday, orearlier. If the two people were murdered, who but their murderer wouldhave sent this sign of his work to Miss Cushing? We may take it thatthe sender of the packet is the man whom we want. But he must have somestrong reason for sending Miss Cushing this packet. What reason then?It must have been to tell her that the deed was done! or to pain her, perhaps. But in that case she knows who it is. Does she know? Idoubt it. If she knew, why should she call the police in? She mighthave buried the ears, and no one would have been the wiser. That iswhat she would have done if she had wished to shield the criminal. Butif she does not wish to shield him she would give his name. There is atangle here which needs straightening to. " He had been talking in ahigh, quick voice, staring blankly up over the garden fence, but now hesprang briskly to his feet and walked towards the house. "I have a few questions to ask Miss Cushing, " said he. "In that case I may leave you here, " said Lestrade, "for I have anothersmall business on hand. I think that I have nothing further to learnfrom Miss Cushing. You will find me at the police-station. " "We shall look in on our way to the train, " answered Holmes. A momentlater he and I were back in the front room, where the impassive ladywas still quietly working away at her antimacassar. She put it down onher lap as we entered and looked at us with her frank, searching blueeyes. "I am convinced, sir, " she said, "that this matter is a mistake, andthat the parcel was never meant for me at all. I have said thisseveral times to the gentlemen from Scotland Yard, but he simply laughsat me. I have not an enemy in the world, as far as I know, so whyshould anyone play me such a trick?" "I am coming to be of the same opinion, Miss Cushing, " said Holmes, taking a seat beside her. "I think that it is more than probable--" Hepaused, and I was surprised, on glancing round to see that he wasstaring with singular intentness at the lady's profile. Surprise andsatisfaction were both for an instant to be read upon his eager face, though when she glanced round to find out the cause of his silence hehad become as demure as ever. I stared hard myself at her flat, grizzled hair, her trim cap, her little gilt earrings, her placidfeatures; but I could see nothing which could account for mycompanion's evident excitement. "There were one or two questions--" "Oh, I am weary of questions!" cried Miss Cushing impatiently. "You have two sisters, I believe. " "How could you know that?" "I observed the very instant that I entered the room that you have aportrait group of three ladies upon the mantelpiece, one of whom isundoubtedly yourself, while the others are so exceedingly like you thatthere could be no doubt of the relationship. " "Yes, you are quite right. Those are my sisters, Sarah and Mary. " "And here at my elbow is another portrait, taken at Liverpool, of youryounger sister, in the company of a man who appears to be a steward byhis uniform. I observe that she was unmarried at the time. " "You are very quick at observing. " "That is my trade. " "Well, you are quite right. But she was married to Mr. Browner a fewdays afterwards. He was on the South American line when that wastaken, but he was so fond of her that he couldn't abide to leave herfor so long, and he got into the Liverpool and London boats. " "Ah, the Conqueror, perhaps?" "No, the May Day, when last I heard. Jim came down here to see meonce. That was before he broke the pledge; but afterwards he wouldalways take drink when he was ashore, and a little drink would send himstark, staring mad. Ah! it was a bad day that ever he took a glass inhis hand again. First he dropped me, then he quarrelled with Sarah, and now that Mary has stopped writing we don't know how things aregoing with them. " It was evident that Miss Cushing had come upon a subject on which shefelt very deeply. Like most people who lead a lonely life, she was shyat first, but ended by becoming extremely communicative. She told usmany details about her brother-in-law the steward, and then wanderingoff on the subject of her former lodgers, the medical students, shegave us a long account of their delinquencies, with their names andthose of their hospitals. Holmes listened attentively to everything, throwing in a question from time to time. "About your second sister, Sarah, " said he. "I wonder, since you areboth maiden ladies, that you do not keep house together. " "Ah! you don't know Sarah's temper or you would wonder no more. I triedit when I came to Croydon, and we kept on until about two months ago, when we had to part. I don't want to say a word against my own sister, but she was always meddlesome and hard to please, was Sarah. " "You say that she quarrelled with your Liverpool relations. " "Yes, and they were the best of friends at one time. Why, she went upthere to live in order to be near them. And now she has no word hardenough for Jim Browner. The last six months that she was here shewould speak of nothing but his drinking and his ways. He had caughther meddling, I suspect, and given her a bit of his mind, and that wasthe start of it. " "Thank you, Miss Cushing, " said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Yoursister Sarah lives, I think you said, at New Street, Wallington?Good-bye, and I am very sorry that you should have been troubled over acase with which, as you say, you have nothing whatever to do. " There was a cab passing as we came out, and Holmes hailed it. "How far to Wallington?" he asked. "Only about a mile, sir. " "Very good. Jump in, Watson. We must strike while the iron is hot. Simple as the case is, there have been one or two very instructivedetails in connection with it. Just pull up at a telegraph office asyou pass, cabby. " Holmes sent off a short wire and for the rest of the drive lay back inthe cab, with his hat tilted over his nose to keep the sun from hisface. Our drive pulled up at a house which was not unlike the one whichwe had just quitted. My companion ordered him to wait, and had hishand upon the knocker, when the door opened and a grave young gentlemanin black, with a very shiny hat, appeared on the step. "Is Miss Cushing at home?" asked Holmes. "Miss Sarah Cushing is extremely ill, " said he. "She has beensuffering since yesterday from brain symptoms of great severity. As hermedical adviser, I cannot possibly take the responsibility of allowinganyone to see her. I should recommend you to call again in ten days. "He drew on his gloves, closed the door, and marched off down the street. "Well, if we can't we can't, " said Holmes, cheerfully. "Perhaps she could not or would not have told you much. " "I did not wish her to tell me anything. I only wanted to look at her. However, I think that I have got all that I want. Drive us to somedecent hotel, cabby, where we may have some lunch, and afterwards weshall drop down upon friend Lestrade at the police-station. " We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmes would talkabout nothing but violins, narrating with great exultation how he hadpurchased his own Stradivarius, which was worth at least five hundredguineas, at a Jew broker's in Tottenham Court Road for fifty-fiveshillings. This led him to Paganini, and we sat for an hour over abottle of claret while he told me anecdote after anecdote of thatextraordinary man. The afternoon was far advanced and the hot glarehad softened into a mellow glow before we found ourselves at thepolice-station. Lestrade was waiting for us at the door. "A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes, " said he. "Ha! It is the answer!" He tore it open, glanced his eyes over it, and crumpled it into his pocket. "That's all right, " said he. "Have you found out anything?" "I have found out everything!" "What!" Lestrade stared at him in amazement. "You are joking. " "I was never more serious in my life. A shocking crime has beencommitted, and I think I have now laid bare every detail of it. " "And the criminal?" Holmes scribbled a few words upon the back of one of his visiting cardsand threw it over to Lestrade. "That is the name, " he said. "You cannot effect an arrest untilto-morrow night at the earliest. I should prefer that you do notmention my name at all in connection with the case, as I choose to beonly associated with those crimes which present some difficulty intheir solution. Come on, Watson. " We strode off together to thestation, leaving Lestrade still staring with a delighted face at thecard which Holmes had thrown him. "The case, " said Sherlock Holmes as we chatted over our cigars thatnight in our rooms at Baker Street, "is one where, as in theinvestigations which you have chronicled under the names of 'A Study inScarlet' and of 'The Sign of Four, ' we have been compelled to reasonbackward from effects to causes. I have written to Lestrade asking himto supply us with the details which are now wanting, and which he willonly get after he had secured his man. That he may be safely trustedto do, for although he is absolutely devoid of reason, he is astenacious as a bulldog when he once understands what he has to do, andindeed, it is just this tenacity which has brought him to the top atScotland Yard. " "Your case is not complete, then?" I asked. "It is fairly complete in essentials. We know who the author of therevolting business is, although one of the victims still escapes us. Of course, you have formed your own conclusions. " "I presume that this Jim Browner, the steward of a Liverpool boat, isthe man whom you suspect?" "Oh! it is more than a suspicion. " "And yet I cannot see anything save very vague indications. " "On the contrary, to my mind nothing could be more clear. Let me runover the principal steps. We approached the case, you remember, withan absolutely blank mind, which is always an advantage. We had formedno theories. We were simply there to observe and to draw inferencesfrom our observations. What did we see first? A very placid andrespectable lady, who seemed quite innocent of any secret, and aportrait which showed me that she had two younger sisters. Itinstantly flashed across my mind that the box might have been meant forone of these. I set the idea aside as one which could be disproved orconfirmed at our leisure. Then we went to the garden, as you remember, and we saw the very singular contents of the little yellow box. "The string was of the quality which is used by sail-makers aboardship, and at once a whiff of the sea was perceptible in ourinvestigation. When I observed that the knot was one which is popularwith sailors, that the parcel had been posted at a port, and that themale ear was pierced for an earring which is so much more common amongsailors than landsmen, I was quite certain that all the actors in thetragedy were to be found among our seafaring classes. "When I came to examine the address of the packet I observed that itwas to Miss S. Cushing. Now, the oldest sister would, of course, beMiss Cushing, and although her initial was 'S' it might belong to oneof the others as well. In that case we should have to commence ourinvestigation from a fresh basis altogether. I therefore went into thehouse with the intention of clearing up this point. I was about toassure Miss Cushing that I was convinced that a mistake had been madewhen you may remember that I came suddenly to a stop. The fact wasthat I had just seen something which filled me with surprise and at thesame time narrowed the field of our inquiry immensely. "As a medical man, you are aware, Watson, that there is no part of thebody which varies so much as the human ear. Each ear is as a rulequite distinctive and differs from all other ones. In last year'sAnthropological Journal you will find two short monographs from my penupon the subject. I had, therefore, examined the ears in the box withthe eyes of an expert and had carefully noted their anatomicalpeculiarities. Imagine my surprise, then, when on looking at MissCushing I perceived that her ear corresponded exactly with the femaleear which I had just inspected. The matter was entirely beyondcoincidence. There was the same shortening of the pinna, the samebroad curve of the upper lobe, the same convolution of the innercartilage. In all essentials it was the same ear. "In the first place, her sister's name was Sarah, and her address haduntil recently been the same, so that it was quite obvious how themistake had occurred and for whom the packet was meant. Then we heardof this steward, married to the third sister, and learned that he hadat one time been so intimate with Miss Sarah that she had actually goneup to Liverpool to be near the Browners, but a quarrel had afterwardsdivided them. This quarrel had put a stop to all communications forsome months, so that if Browner had occasion to address a packet toMiss Sarah, he would undoubtedly have done so to her old address. "And now the matter had begun to straighten itself out wonderfully. Wehad learned of the existence of this steward, an impulsive man, ofstrong passions--you remember that he threw up what must have been avery superior berth in order to be nearer to his wife--subject, too, tooccasional fits of hard drinking. We had reason to believe that hiswife had been murdered, and that a man--presumably a seafaring man--hadbeen murdered at the same time. Jealousy, of course, at once suggestsitself as the motive for the crime. And why should these proofs of thedeed be sent to Miss Sarah Cushing? Probably because during herresidence in Liverpool she had some hand in bringing about the eventswhich led to the tragedy. You will observe that this line of boatscall at Belfast, Dublin, and Waterford; so that, presuming that Brownerhad committed the deed and had embarked at once upon his steamer, theMay Day, Belfast would be the first place at which he could post histerrible packet. "A second solution was at this stage obviously possible, and although Ithought it exceedingly unlikely, I was determined to elucidate itbefore going further. An unsuccessful lover might have killed Mr. AndMrs. Browner, and the male ear might have belonged to the husband. There were many grave objections to this theory, but it wasconceivable. I therefore sent off a telegram to my friend Algar, ofthe Liverpool force, and asked him to find out if Mrs. Browner were athome, and if Browner had departed in the May Day. Then we went on toWallington to visit Miss Sarah. "I was curious, in the first place, to see how far the family ear hadbeen reproduced in her. Then, of course, she might give us veryimportant information, but I was not sanguine that she would. She musthave heard of the business the day before, since all Croydon wasringing with it, and she alone could have understood for whom thepacket was meant. If she had been willing to help justice she wouldprobably have communicated with the police already. However, it wasclearly our duty to see her, so we went. We found that the news of thearrival of the packet--for her illness dated from that time--had suchan effect upon her as to bring on brain fever. It was clearer thanever that she understood its full significance, but equally clear thatwe should have to wait some time for any assistance from her. "However, we were really independent of her help. Our answers werewaiting for us at the police-station, where I had directed Algar tosend them. Nothing could be more conclusive. Mrs. Browner's house hadbeen closed for more than three days, and the neighbours were ofopinion that she had gone south to see her relatives. It had beenascertained at the shipping offices that Browner had left aboard of theMay Day, and I calculate that she is due in the Thames tomorrow night. When he arrives he will be met by the obtuse but resolute Lestrade, andI have no doubt that we shall have all our details filled in. " Sherlock Holmes was not disappointed in his expectations. Two dayslater he received a bulky envelope, which contained a short note fromthe detective, and a typewritten document, which covered several pagesof foolscap. "Lestrade has got him all right, " said Holmes, glancing up at me. "Perhaps it would interest you to hear what he says. "My dear Mr. Holmes: In accordance with the scheme which we had formed in order to test ourtheories" ["the 'we' is rather fine, Watson, is it not?"] "I went downto the Albert Dock yesterday at 6 p. M. , and boarded the S. S. May Day, belonging to the Liverpool, Dublin, and London Steam Packet Company. On inquiry, I found that there was a steward on board of the name ofJames Browner and that he had acted during the voyage in such anextraordinary manner that the captain had been compelled to relieve himof his duties. On descending to his berth, I found him seated upon achest with his head sunk upon his hands, rocking himself to and fro. He is a big, powerful chap, clean-shaven, and very swarthy--somethinglike Aldrige, who helped us in the bogus laundry affair. He jumped upwhen he heard my business, and I had my whistle to my lips to call acouple of river police, who were round the corner, but he seemed tohave no heart in him, and he held out his hands quietly enough for thedarbies. We brought him along to the cells, and his box as well, forwe thought there might be something incriminating; but, bar a big sharpknife such as most sailors have, we got nothing for our trouble. However, we find that we shall want no more evidence, for on beingbrought before the inspector at the station he asked leave to make astatement, which was, of course, taken down, just as he made it, by ourshorthand man. We had three copies typewritten, one of which Ienclose. The affair proves, as I always thought it would, to be anextremely simple one, but I am obliged to you for assisting me in myinvestigation. With kind regards, "Yours very truly, "G. Lestrade. "Hum! The investigation really was a very simple one, " remarkedHolmes, "but I don't think it struck him in that light when he firstcalled us in. However, let us see what Jim Browner has to say forhimself. This is his statement as made before Inspector Montgomery atthe Shadwell Police Station, and it has the advantage of beingverbatim. " "'Have I anything to say? Yes, I have a deal to say. I have to make aclean breast of it all. You can hang me, or you can leave me alone. Idon't care a plug which you do. I tell you I've not shut an eye insleep since I did it, and I don't believe I ever will again until I getpast all waking. Sometimes it's his face, but most generally it'shers. I'm never without one or the other before me. He looks frowningand black-like, but she has a kind o' surprise upon her face. Ay, thewhite lamb, she might well be surprised when she read death on a facethat had seldom looked anything but love upon her before. "'But it was Sarah's fault, and may the curse of a broken man put ablight on her and set the blood rotting in her veins! It's not that Iwant to clear myself. I know that I went back to drink, like the beastthat I was. But she would have forgiven me; she would have stuck asclose to me a rope to a block if that woman had never darkened ourdoor. For Sarah Cushing loved me--that's the root of the business--sheloved me until all her love turned to poisonous hate when she knew thatI thought more of my wife's footmark in the mud than I did of her wholebody and soul. "'There were three sisters altogether. The old one was just a goodwoman, the second was a devil, and the third was an angel. Sarah wasthirty-three, and Mary was twenty-nine when I married. We were just ashappy as the day was long when we set up house together, and in allLiverpool there was no better woman than my Mary. And then we askedSarah up for a week, and the week grew into a month, and one thing ledto another, until she was just one of ourselves. "'I was blue ribbon at that time, and we were putting a little moneyby, and all was as bright as a new dollar. My God, whoever would havethought that it could have come to this? Whoever would have dreamed it? "'I used to be home for the week-ends very often, and sometimes if theship were held back for cargo I would have a whole week at a time, andin this way I saw a deal of my sister-in-law, Sarah. She was a finetall woman, black and quick and fierce, with a proud way of carryingher head, and a glint from her eye like a spark from a flint. But whenlittle Mary was there I had never a thought of her, and that I swear asI hope for God's mercy. "'It had seemed to me sometimes that she liked to be alone with me, orto coax me out for a walk with her, but I had never thought anything ofthat. But one evening my eyes were opened. I had come up from the shipand found my wife out, but Sarah at home. "Where's Mary?" I asked. "Oh, she has gone to pay some accounts. " I was impatient and paced upand down the room. "Can't you be happy for five minutes without Mary, Jim?" says she. "It's a bad compliment to me that you can't becontented with my society for so short a time. " "That's all right, mylass, " said I, putting out my hand towards her in a kindly way, but shehad it in both hers in an instant, and they burned as if they were in afever. I looked into her eyes and I read it all there. There was noneed for her to speak, nor for me either. I frowned and drew my handaway. Then she stood by my side in silence for a bit, and then put upher hand and patted me on the shoulder. "Steady old Jim!" said she, and with a kind o' mocking laugh, she ran out of the room. "'Well, from that time Sarah hated me with her whole heart and soul, and she is a woman who can hate, too. I was a fool to let her go onbiding with us--a besotted fool--but I never said a word to Mary, for Iknew it would grieve her. Things went on much as before, but after atime I began to find that there was a bit of a change in Mary herself. She had always been so trusting and so innocent, but now she becamequeer and suspicious, wanting to know where I had been and what I hadbeen doing, and whom my letters were from, and what I had in mypockets, and a thousand such follies. Day by day she grew queerer andmore irritable, and we had ceaseless rows about nothing. I was fairlypuzzled by it all. Sarah avoided me now, but she and Mary were justinseparable. I can see now how she was plotting and scheming andpoisoning my wife's mind against me, but I was such a blind beetle thatI could not understand it at the time. Then I broke my blue ribbon andbegan to drink again, but I think I should not have done it if Mary hadbeen the same as ever. She had some reason to be disgusted with me now, and the gap between us began to be wider and wider. And then this AlecFairbairn chipped in, and things became a thousand times blacker. "'It was to see Sarah that he came to my house first, but soon it wasto see us, for he was a man with winning ways, and he made friendswherever he went. He was a dashing, swaggering chap, smart and curled, who had seen half the world and could talk of what he had seen. He wasgood company, I won't deny it, and he had wonderful polite ways withhim for a sailor man, so that I think there must have been a time whenhe knew more of the poop than the forecastle. For a month he was inand out of my house, and never once did it cross my mind that harmmight come of his soft, tricky ways. And then at last something mademe suspect, and from that day my peace was gone forever. "'It was only a little thing, too. I had come into the parlourunexpected, and as I walked in at the door I saw a light of welcome onmy wife's face. But as she saw who it was it faded again, and sheturned away with a look of disappointment. That was enough for me. There was no one but Alec Fairbairn whose step she could have mistakenfor mine. If I could have seen him then I should have killed him, forI have always been like a madman when my temper gets loose. Mary sawthe devil's light in my eyes, and she ran forward with her hands on mysleeve. "Don't, Jim, don't!" says she. "Where's Sarah?" I asked. "Inthe kitchen, " says she. "Sarah, " says I as I went in, "this manFairbairn is never to darken my door again. " "Why not?" says she. "Because I order it. " "Oh!" says she, "if my friends are not goodenough for this house, then I am not good enough for it either. " "Youcan do what you like, " says I, "but if Fairbairn shows his face hereagain I'll send you one of his ears for a keepsake. " She wasfrightened by my face, I think, for she never answered a word, and thesame evening she left my house. "'Well, I don't know now whether it was pure devilry on the part ofthis woman, or whether she thought that she could turn me against mywife by encouraging her to misbehave. Anyway, she took a house justtwo streets off and let lodgings to sailors. Fairbairn used to staythere, and Mary would go round to have tea with her sister and him. How often she went I don't know, but I followed her one day, and as Ibroke in at the door Fairbairn got away over the back garden wall, likethe cowardly skunk that he was. I swore to my wife that I would killher if I found her in his company again, and I led her back with me, sobbing and trembling, and as white as a piece of paper. There was notrace of love between us any longer. I could see that she hated me andfeared me, and when the thought of it drove me to drink, then shedespised me as well. "'Well, Sarah found that she could not make a living in Liverpool, soshe went back, as I understand, to live with her sister in Croydon, andthings jogged on much the same as ever at home. And then came thisweek and all the misery and ruin. "'It was in this way. We had gone on the May Day for a round voyage ofseven days, but a hogshead got loose and started one of our plates, sothat we had to put back into port for twelve hours. I left the shipand came home, thinking what a surprise it would be for my wife, andhoping that maybe she would be glad to see me so soon. The thought wasin my head as I turned into my own street, and at that moment a cabpassed me, and there she was, sitting by the side of Fairbairn, the twochatting and laughing, with never a thought for me as I stood watchingthem from the footpath. "'I tell you, and I give you my word for it, that from that moment Iwas not my own master, and it is all like a dim dream when I look backon it. I had been drinking hard of late, and the two things togetherfairly turned my brain. There's something throbbing in my head now, like a docker's hammer, but that morning I seemed to have all Niagarawhizzing and buzzing in my ears. "'Well, I took to my heels, and I ran after the cab. I had a heavy oakstick in my hand, and I tell you I saw red from the first; but as I ranI got cunning, too, and hung back a little to see them without beingseen. They pulled up soon at the railway station. There was a goodcrowd round the booking-office, so I got quite close to them withoutbeing seen. They took tickets for New Brighton. So did I, but I gotin three carriages behind them. When we reached it they walked alongthe Parade, and I was never more than a hundred yards from them. Atlast I saw them hire a boat and start for a row, for it was a very hotday, and they thought, no doubt, that it would be cooler on the water. "'It was just as if they had been given into my hands. There was a bitof a haze, and you could not see more than a few hundred yards. Ihired a boat for myself, and I pulled after them. I could see the blurof their craft, but they were going nearly as fast as I, and they musthave been a long mile from the shore before I caught them up. The hazewas like a curtain all round us, and there were we three in the middleof it. My God, shall I ever forget their faces when they saw who wasin the boat that was closing in upon them? She screamed out. He sworelike a madman and jabbed at me with an oar, for he must have seen deathin my eyes. I got past it and got one in with my stick that crushedhis head like an egg. I would have spared her, perhaps, for all mymadness, but she threw her arms round him, crying out to him, andcalling him "Alec. " I struck again, and she lay stretched beside him. I was like a wild beast then that had tasted blood. If Sarah had beenthere, by the Lord, she should have joined them. I pulled out myknife, and--well, there! I've said enough. It gave me a kind of savagejoy when I thought how Sarah would feel when she had such signs asthese of what her meddling had brought about. Then I tied the bodiesinto the boat, stove a plank, and stood by until they had sunk. I knewvery well that the owner would think that they had lost their bearingsin the haze, and had drifted off out to sea. I cleaned myself up, gotback to land, and joined my ship without a soul having a suspicion ofwhat had passed. That night I made up the packet for Sarah Cushing, and next day I sent it from Belfast. "'There you have the whole truth of it. You can hang me, or do whatyou like with me, but you cannot punish me as I have been punishedalready. I cannot shut my eyes but I see those two faces staring atme--staring at me as they stared when my boat broke through the haze. I killed them quick, but they are killing me slow; and if I haveanother night of it I shall be either mad or dead before morning. Youwon't put me alone into a cell, sir? For pity's sake don't, and mayyou be treated in your day of agony as you treat me now. ' "What is the meaning of it, Watson?" said Holmes solemnly as he laiddown the paper. "What object is served by this circle of misery andviolence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe isruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is thegreat standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far froman answer as ever. "