the adventure of the three garridebs-第4章

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Newgate　Calendar　in　your　memory。　I　have　been　down　to　see　friend

Lestrade　at　the　Yard。　There　may　be　an　occasional　want　of　imaginative

intuition　down　there；　but　they　lead　the　world　for　thoroughness　and

method。　I　had　an　idea　that　we　might　get　on　the　track　of　our　American

friend　in　their　records。　Sure　enough；　I　found　his　chubby　face

smiling　up　at　me　from　the　rogues'　portrait　gallery。　'James　Winter；

alias　Morecroft；　alias　Killer　Evans；'　was　the　inscription　below。〃

Holmes　drew　an　envelope　from　his　pocket。　〃I　scribbled　down　a　few

points　from　his　dossier：　Aged　forty…four。　Native　of　Chicago。　Known

to　have　shot　three　men　in　the　States。　Escaped　from　penitentiary

through　political　influence。　Came　to　London　in　1893。　Shot　a　man　over

cards　in　a　night…club　in　the　Waterloo　Road　in　January；　1895。　Man　died；

but　he　was　shown　to　have　been　the　aggressor　in　the　row。　Dead　man　was

identified　as　Rodger　Prescott；　famous　as　forger　and　coiner　in　Chicago。

Killer　Evans　released　in　1901。　Has　been　under　police　supervision

since；　but　so　far　as　known　has　led　an　honest　life。　Very　dangerous　man；

usually　carries　arms　and　is　prepared　to　use　them。　That　is　our　bird；

Watson…　a　sporting　bird；　as　you　must　admit。〃

　　〃But　what　is　his　game？〃

　　〃Well；　it　begins　to　define　itself。　I　have　been　to　the　house…agent's。

Our　client；　as　he　told　us；　has　been　there　five　years。　It　was　unlet　for

a　year　before　then。　The　previous　tenant　was　a　gentleman　at　large　named

Waldron。　Waldron's　appearance　was　well　remembered　at　the　office。　He

had　suddenly　vanished　and　nothing　more　been　heard　of　him。　He　was　a

tall；　bearded　man　with　very　dark　features。　Now；　Prescott；　the　man　whom

Killer　Evans　had　shot；　was；　according　to　Scotland　Yard；　a　tall；　dark

man　with　a　beard。　As　a　working　hypothesis；　I　think　we　may　take　it　that

Prescott；　the　American　criminal；　used　to　live　in　the　very　room　which

our　innocent　friend　now　devotes　to　his　museum。　So　at　last　we　get　a

link；　you　see。〃

　　〃And　the　next　link？〃

　　〃Well；　we　must　go　now　and　look　for　that。〃

　　He　took　a　revolver　from　the　drawer　and　handed　it　to　me。

　　〃I　have　my　old　favourite　with　me。　If　our　Wild　West　friend　tries　to

live　up　to　his　nickname；　we　must　be　ready　for　him。　I'll　give　you　an

hour　for　a　siesta；　Watson；　and　then　I　think　it　will　be　time　for　our

Ryder　Street　adventure。〃

　　It　was　just　four　o'clock　when　we　reached　the　curious　apartment　of

Nathan　Garrideb。　Mrs。　Saunders；　the　caretaker；　was　about　to　leave；　but

she　had　no　hesitation　in　admitting　us；　for　the　door　shut　with　a　spring

lock；　and　Holmes　promised　to　see　that　all　was　safe　before　we　left。

Shortly　afterwards　the　outer　door　closed；　her　bonnet　passed　the　bow

window；　and　we　knew　that　we　were　alone　in　the　lower　floor　of　the

house。　Holmes　made　a　rapid　examination　of　the　premises。　There　was

one　cupboard　in　a　dark　corner　which　stood　out　a　little　from　the

wall。　It　was　behind　this　that　we　eventually　crouched　while　Holmes　in　a

whisper　outlined　his　intentions。

　　〃He　wanted　to　get　our　amiable　friend　out　of　his　room…　that　is　very

clear；　and；　as　the　collector　never　went　out；　it　took　some　planning

to　do　it。　The　whole　of　this　Garrideb　invention　was　apparently　for　no

other　end。　I　must　say；　Watson；　that　there　is　a　certain　devilish

ingenuity　about　it；　even　if　the　queer　name　of　the　tenant　did　give

him　an　opening　which　he　could　hardly　have　expected。　He　wove　his　plot

with　remarkable　cunning。〃

　　〃But　what　did　he　want？〃

　　〃Well；　that　is　what　we　are　here　to　find　out。　It　has　nothing　whatever

to　do　with　our　client；　so　far　as　I　can　read　the　situation。　It　is

something　connected　with　the　man　he　murdered…　the　man　who　may　have

been　his　confederate　in　crime。　There　is　some　guilty　secret　in　the

room。　That　is　how　I　read　it。　At　first　I　thought　our　friend　might

have　something　in　his　collection　more　valuable　than　he　knew…　something

worth　the　attention　of　a　big　criminal。　But　the　fact　that　Rodger

Prescott　of　evil　memory　inhabited　these　rooms　points　to　some　deeper

reason。　Well；　Watson；　we　can　but　possess　our　souls　in　patience　and　see

what　the　hour　may　bring。〃

　　That　hour　was　not　long　in　striking。　We　crouched　closer　in　the　shadow

as　we　heard　the　outer　door　open　and　shut。　Then　came　the　sharp；

metallic　snap　of　a　key；　and　the　American　was　in　the　room。　He　closed

the　door　softly　behind　him；　took　a　sharp　glance　around　him　to　see　that

all　was　safe；　threw　off　his　overcoat；　and　walked　up　to　the　central

table　with　the　brisk　manner　of　one　who　knows　exactly　what　he　has　to　do

and　how　to　do　it。　He　pushed　the　table　to　one　side；　tore　up　the

square　of　carpet　on　which　it　rested；　rolled　it　completely　back；　and

then；　drawing　a　jemmy　from　his　inside　pocket；　he　knelt　down　and　worked

vigorously　upon　the　floor。　Presently　we　heard　the　sound　of　sliding

boards；　and　an　instant　later　a　square　had　opened　in　the　planks。　Killer

Evans　struck　a　match；　lit　a　stump　of　candle；　and　vanished　from　our

view。

　　Clearly　our　moment　had　come。　Holmes　touched　my　wrist　as　a　signal；

and　together　we　stole　across　to　the　open　trap…door。　Gently　as　we

moved；　however；　the　old　floor　must　have　creaked　under　our　feet；　for

the　head　of　our　American；　peering　anxiously　round；　emerged　suddenly

from　the　open　space。　His　face　turned　upon　us　with　a　glare　of　baffled

rage；　which　gradually　softened　into　a　rather　shamefaced　grin　as　he

realized　that　two　pistols　were　pointed　at　his　head。

　　〃Well；　well！〃　said　he　coolly　as　he　scrambled　to　the　surface。　〃I

guess　you　have　been　one　too　many　for　me；　Mr。　Holmes。　Saw　through　my

game；　I　suppose；　and　played　me　for　a　sucker　from　the　first。　Well；　sir；

I　hand　it　to　you；　you　have　me　beat　and…〃

　　In　an　instant　he　had　whisked　out　a　revolver　from　his　breast　and

had　fired　two　shots。　I　felt　a　sudden　hot　sear　as　if　a　red…hot　iron　had

been　pressed　to　my　thigh。　There　was　a　crash　as　Holmes's　pistol　came

down　on　the　man's　head。　I　had　a　vision　of　him　sprawling　upon　the　floor

with　blood　running　down　his　face　while　Holmes　rummaged　him　for

weapons。　Then　my　friend's　wiry　arms　were　round　me；　and　he　was

leading　me　to　a　chair。

　　〃You're　not　hurt；　Watson？　For　God's　sake；　say　that　you　are　not

hurt！〃

　　It　was　worth　a　wound…　it　was　worth　many　wounds…　to　know　the　depth　of

loyalty　and　love　which　lay　behind　that　cold　mask。　The　clear；　hard　eyes

were　dimmed　for　a　moment；　and　the　firm　lips　were　shaking。　For　the

one　and　only　time　I　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　great　heart　as　well　as　of

a　great　brain。　All　my　years　of　humble　but　single…minded　service

culminated　in　that　moment　of　revelation。

　　〃It's　nothing；　Holmes。　It's　a　mere　scratch。〃

　　He　had　ripped　up　my　trousers　with　his　pocket…knife。

　　〃You　are　right；〃　fie　c：ried　with　an　immense　sigh　of　relief。　〃It　is

quite　superficial。〃　His　face　set　like　flint　as　he　glared　at　our

prisoner；　who　was　sitting　up　with　a　dazed　face。　〃By　the　Lord；　it　is　as

well　for　you。　If　you　had　killed　Watson；　you　would　not　have　got　out

of　this　room　alive。　Now；　sir；　what　have　you　to　say　for　yourself？〃

　　He　had　nothing　to　say　for　himself。　He　only　sat　and　scowled。　I　leaned

on　Holmes's　arm；　and　together　we　looked　down　into　the　small　cellar

which　had　been　disclosed　by　the　secret　flap。　it　was　still

illuminated　by　the　candle　which　Evans　had　taken　down　with　him。　Our

eyes　fell　upon　a　mass　of　rusted　machinery；　great　rolls　of　paper；　a

litter　of　bottles；　and；　neatly　arranged　upon　a　small　table；　a　number

of　neat　little　bundies。

　　〃A　printing　press…　a　counterfeiter's　outfit；〃　said　Holmes。

　　〃Yes；　sir；〃　said　our　prisoner；　staggering　slowly　to　his　feet　and

then　sinking　into　the　chair。　〃The　greatest　counterfeiter　London　ever

saw。　That's　Prescott's　machine；　and　those　bundles　on　the　table　are　two

thousand　of　Prescott's　notes　worth　a　hundred　each　and　fit　to　pass

anywhere。　Help　yourselves；　gentlemen。　Call　it　a　deal　and　let　me　beat

it。〃

　　Holmes　laughed。

　　〃We　don't　do　things　like　that；　Mr。　Evans。　There　is　no　bolt…hole

for　you　in　this　country。　You　shot　this　man　Prescott；　did　you　not？〃

　　〃Yes；　sir；　and　got　five　years　for　it；　though　it　was　he　who　pulled　on

me。　Five　years…　when　I　should　have　had　a　medal　the　size　of　a　soup

plate。　No　living　man　could　tell　a　Prescott　from　a　Bank　o