So those were the facts about Killer Evans and his remarkableinvention of the three Garridebs. We heard later that our poorold friend never got over the shock of his dissipated dreams.
When his castle in the air fell down, it buried him beneath theruins. He was last heard of at a nursing-home in Brixton. It wasglad day at the Yard when the Prescott outfit was discovered,for, though they knew that it existed, they had never been able,after the death of the man, to find out where it was. Evans hadThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1325 indeed done great service and caused several worthy C. I. D. mento sleep the sounder, for the counterfeiter stands in a class byhimself as a public danger. They would willingly have subscribedto that soup-plate medal of which the criminal had spoken, but anunappreciative bench took a less favourable view, and the Killerreturned to those shades from which he had just emerged.
The Problem of Thor Bridge
Somewhere in the vaults of the bank of Cox and Co., at CharingCross, there is a travel-worn and battered tin dispatch-box withmy name, John H. Watson, M. D., Late Indian Army, painted uponthe lid. It is crammed with papers, nearly all of which are recordsof cases to illustrate the curious problems which Mr. SherlockHolmes had at various times to examine. Some, and not the leastinteresting, were complete failures, and as such will hardly bearnarrating, since no final explanation is forthcoming. A problemwithout a solution may interest the student, but can hardly failto annoy the casual reader. Among these unfinished tales is thatof Mr. James Phillimore, who, stepping back into his own houseto get his umbrella, was never more seen in this world. No lessremarkable is that of the cutter Alicia, which sailed one springmorning into a small patch of mist from where she never againemerged, nor was anything further ever heard of herself andher crew. A third case worthy of note is that of Isadora Persano,the well-known journalist and duellist, who was found starkstaring mad with a match box in front of him which contained aremarkable worm said to be unknown to science. Apart from theseunfathomed cases, there are some which involve the secrets ofprivate families to an extent which would mean consternation inmany exalted quarters if it were thought possible that they mightfind their way into print. I need not say that such a breach ofconfidence is unthinkable, and that these records will be separatedand destroyed now that my friend has time to turn his energies tothe matter. There remain a considerable residue of cases of greateror less interest which I might have edited before had I not fearedto give the public a surfeit which might react upon the reputationof the man whom above all others I revere. In some I was myselfconcerned and can speak as an eye-witness, while in others I waseither not present or played so small a part that they could onlybe told as by a third person. The following narrative is drawn frommy own experience.
It was a wild morning in October, and I observed as I wasdressing how the last remaining leaves were being whirled from1326 The Complete Sherlock Holmes= the solitary plane tree which graces the yard behind our house. descended to breakfast prepared to find my companion indepressed spirits, for, like all great artists, he was easily impressedby his surroundings. On the contrary, I found that he had nearlyfinished his meal, and that his mood was particularly bright andjoyous, with that somewhat sinister cheerfulness which wascharacteristic of his lighter moments.
“You have a case, Holmes?” I remarked.
“The faculty of deduction is certainly contagious, Watson,” heanswered. “It has enabled you to probe my secret. Yes, I have acase. After a month of trivialities and stagnation the wheels moveonce more.”
“Might I share it?”
“There is little to share, but we may discuss it when you haveconsumed the two hard-boiled eggs with which our new cookhas favoured us. Their condition may not be unconnected withthe copy of the Family Herald which I observed yesterday uponthe hall-table. Even so trivial a matter as cooking an egg demandsan attention which is conscious of the passage of time andincompatible with the love romance in that excellent periodical.”
A quarter of an hour later the table had been cleared and wewere face to face. He had drawn a letter from his pocket.
“You have heard of Neil Gibson, the Gold King?” he said.
“You mean the American Senator?”
“Well, he was once Senator for some Western state, but is betterknown as the greatest gold-mining magnate in the world.”
“Yes, I know of him. He has surely lived in England for sometime. His name is very familiar.”
“Yes, he bought a considerable estate in Hampshire some fiveyears ago. Possibly you have already heard of the tragic end of hiswife?”
“Of course. I remember it now. That is why the name is familiar.
But I really know nothing of the details.”
Holmes waved his hand towards some papers on a chair. “Ihad no idea that the case was coming my way or I should havehad my extracts ready,” said he. “The fact is that the problem,though exceedingly sensational, appeared to present no difficulty.
The interesting personality of the accused does not obscure theclearness of the evidence. That was the view taken by the coroner’sjury and also in the police-court proceedings. It is now referred tothe Assizes at Winchester. I fear it is a thankless business. I candiscover facts, Watson, but I cannot change them. Unless someentirely new and unexpected ones come to light I do not see whatmy client can hope for.”
“Your client?”
The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1327
“Ah, I forgot I had not told you. I am getting into your involvedhabit, Watson, of telling a story backward. You had best read thisfirst.”
The letter which he handed to me, written in a bold, masterfulhand, ran as follows: