Chapter 19 first quarter

Holmes was delighted to have a task suited to him.He was neither an entomologist nor a naturalist; he was interested in the study of animals simply because it revealed so many mysteries about the human body, and more precisely, his own inner workings.Two days before, Lowell had handed him a hodgepodge of squashed insects and maggots, and Dr. Holmes had immediately gone to the best science and technology library in Boston and collected everything he could find about insects. All of my books gathered together and started researching. Meanwhile, Lowell had a meeting with Healy's maid, Nell, at her sister's house outside Cambridge.She told Lowell how she had discovered Judge Healy, and how Healy seemed to have something to say, but died with a few clucks.She also said that when she heard Healy's clucking sound, she was so frightened that she collapsed to the ground, and then she crawled out as if some kind of divine force gently pushed her.

The Dante Club believed that the thousand dollars found in Talbot's church could not be handed over directly to the police, but had to be found by themselves, so they decided to bury the money back at the bottom of the cave.Both Holmes and Lowell opposed the decision: Holmes out of fear, Lowell out of wanting the police to know.Longfellow advised his two friends that, although it was dangerous to let the police know about our actions, the police need not be viewed as competitors.We and the police are all working toward a common goal: to stop murder.The difference is that the Dante Club mainly uses intangible discoveries in literature, while the police mainly use tangible evidence.Therefore, the one thousand yuan is more useful to the police.After burying the thousand-dollar bag back where it belonged, Longfellow wrote a note to the police chief's office: Digging deep...they want someone in the police department with a sharp eye who can see the value of a message, Then follow the clues and maybe find more clues to the murder.

When Holmes finished his insect studies, he invited Longfellow, Fields, and Lowell to his house at 21 Charles Street.Originally, Holmes could see whether the guests had arrived by standing in front of the study window, but he followed the etiquette and asked the Irish maid to lead the guests into the small reception room and then inform him.Then he hurried downstairs to meet him again. "Longfellow? Fields? Lowell? You're all here? Go upstairs, go upstairs! I'll show you the results of my research." The study was rather elegant, and tidier than most scholars' studies, with books piled up to the ceiling, many of which - considering Holmes' size - could only be reached by climbing a ladder he had handmade.Holmes showed them one of his latest inventions—a bookcase built into the corner of a desk, so you can reach the book you want without having to get up.

"Excellent, Holmes," Lowell praised, looking at the microscope ahead. The specimens, Holmes explained, were large flies that morphed from maggots on the day coroner Barneyhout announced the discovery of the body.The fly lays eggs on corpses or carrion, and the eggs turn into maggots. The maggots eat the carrion, and when they grow up, they metamorphose into flies, and so on. Fields swayed in his chair and said, "According to the maid, Healy died screaming. This means that he was alive when the maid found him! Although I guess he was dead by then." Gossamer. In the four days since he was attacked . . . every gash in his body was infested with maggots."

Holmes would have been disgusted if he hadn't found the idea particularly absurd.He shook his head and said, "Fortunately for Healy and humans, things can't be like this. Either there is tissue necrosis in the head wound, and a few maggots breed, maybe four or five, or his He died long ago. If there were a large number of maggots in his body as reported, then all the tissues must have been necrotic. From this point of view, he must have died." "It's probably the maid's hallucination." Longfellow looked at the disapproving expression on Lowell's face and said.

"If you had seen her, Longfellow," said Lowell, "if you had seen the bloodshot eyes in her eyes, Holmes, you would not have said so. Fields, you have seen her of!" Fields nodded, although he was still not quite sure, "She saw something terrible, or it can be said that she saw it." Arms folded, Lowell demurred, "She's the only insider, no doubt about it. I trust her. We have to trust her." Holmes spoke authoritatively that his discovery provided at least some order—some premise—for their actions. "Sorry, Lowell. She did see horrible things—Healy's condition. But I'm talking—science."

Afterwards, Lowell returned to Cambridge in a carriage.Lowell was strolling under a maple tree with a crimson canopy, rueful at his inability to persuade everyone to accept what the maid had told him, as Phineas Jannison, a wealthy Boston businessman, slid by in his luxurious carriage. .He frowned, thinking.He doesn't care about being alone, though he kind of wants someone to share his mind. "Hey, give me a hand!" When the fat chestnut horse slowed down and took a small step leisurely, Janison stretched out his hand out of the car window. The sleeves were very finely crafted.

"Dear Janison." Lowell greeted. "Oh, what an old friend's hand feels!" Janison said, with a tinge of calculated intimacy in his voice.Although he couldn't stand Lowell's firm handshake, Janison waved his hand in the earnest gesture of a Boston businessman, like shaking a bottle.He got out of the carriage, knocked on the green door of the silver chaise, and beckoned the coachman to stay where he was. Janison's shiny white overcoat was buttoned loosely, revealing a crimson double-breasted frock coat over a green velvet waistcoat.He put his arm around Lowell, and asked: "Are you going to Elwood?"

"I am ashamed, sir," replied Lowell. "Tell me, does the damned school board allow you to continue the Dante seminar?" Janison asked, his bushy eyebrows knit together in concern. "Thank you for your concern. I guess they are phasing it out." Lovell sighed. "I just hope they don't mistake my suspension of Dante lessons as a victory for their side." Janison stood in the middle of the street, pale.Holding his dimpled cheek, he said softly: "Lowell? Are you still the same Lowell who was driven to Concord by Harvard for disobedience? For the future of the United States, stand up against Manning and School board, so what? You must, or they should..."

"It has nothing to do with the bloody school board," Lowell assured him. "I've got to focus on another thing right now, and not let the seminar interfere with me. I'm just giving lectures now." "If you want a Bengal tiger, a house cat won't be able to satisfy your appetite!" Janison clenched his fists with a passionate expression.He is very satisfied with this almost poetic image. "My field isn't there, Jannison. I don't know how you deal with school board members and such. You're always dealing with loafers and fools." "Can you meet anyone else in business?" Janison said, all flushed and smiling. "I have a secret, Lowell. You keep protesting until you get what you want—that's the secret. You know What's important, what's necessary, and to hell with everything else!" He added enthusiastically, "Well, if I can help you, even a little bit..."

In that brief moment, Lowell wanted to tell Jannison all about it and ask him for help, even though he felt a little baffled himself.The poet is very bad at money, and his money is always moved between ill-advised investments, so it seems to him that successful businessmen have some kind of supernatural power. "No, no, I have recruited a lot of reinforcements for my battle, more than my conscience will allow, but I still have to thank you for your kindness." Lowell patted the white man gently. The precious London suede on the shoulders of the millionaire, "Young Meade will be grateful for the chance to rest for a few days from Dante." "Every good war needs a strong ally," said Janison, a little disappointed.Immediately afterwards, he showed a grumpy look, "I have observed Dr. Manning, this man will not give up until he achieves his goal, so you must not stop fighting. Don't believe what they tell you. Remember I said this. " When it comes to the Dante study class that he has maintained for so many years through struggle, Lowell feels very bad, thinking that it is a great irony to him.He had felt the same embarrassing dismay that day as he walked through Elwood's white wooden door to the Longfellow house. "professor!" Lowell turned his head and saw a young man in a black college student uniform, with fists in both hands and lips tightly shut, running towards him. "Mr. Sheldon? What are you doing there?" "I've got to talk to you right away." The freshman managed to utter the words out of breath. Longfellow and Lowell had been compiling a list of past students for the Dante Seminar all week last week.They cannot use official Harvard records because doing so risks attracting attention.This was a particularly onerous task for Lowell, who kept only imprecise records and remembered only a few names.Even students who have been out of school for several years and met Lowell on the street may hear his warm greeting: "Dear boy!" Then, "What's your name?" Fortunately, two of his current students, Sheldon and Meade, were quickly cleared of the crime.According to their rigorous reckoning, both were at Elwood listening to Lowell lecturing on the Divine Comedy at the time the Reverend Talbot was killed. "Professor Lowell, I received this notice in the mailbox!" Sheldon stuffed a piece of paper into Lowell's hand, "Did I make a mistake?" Lowell glanced at the notice indifferently, "That's right. There are some things that I need to make time to deal with, and it will only take about a week. I'm sure you hope to put Dante behind you for a while." Sheldon shook his head in astonishment, and then asked like a cannonball: "What have you been telling us? Are the Dante worshippers finally giving up their tours? Didn't you submit to the school board? You Are you tired of studying Dante, Professor?" Facing the last question, Lowell felt himself trembling. "I don't know of any thinker who ever tires of Dante, boy! Few have written such depth through life as Dante. As a man, as a poet, as a teacher, I value him even more. and others. In the darkest days of our lives, he is the one who gives us the hope of survival. I will never do anything to the dictators of the school board until I meet Dante himself in the first circle of purgatory. Give in!" Sheldon thought about Lowell's words, half-understanding, "So, you will take my wish to continue to travel to "The Divine Comedy" in your heart?" Lowell puts a hand on Sheldon's shoulder, and the two talk as they walk. "You know, man, Boccaccio tells a story. Dante, exiled, came to Verona. A woman passed a gate, saw Dante across the street, and pointed him at another woman. Said: "This is Alikiri, a man who went in and out of hell at will and brought news of the dead." The woman replied: "It is him, that's right. Look at his curly beard and his swarthy face? I Guess it's from the sun and smoking!'" The student laughed. "This conversation," continued Lowell, "is said to have made Dante laugh. But I doubt the truth of the story, and you know why, man?" Sheldon pondered the question, looking as serious as he had in Dante. "Perhaps it is because the woman in Verona never actually read Dante at all," he speculates, "because in his day only a few elites, especially those Dante's protectors, had Possibly read his manuscripts before he died, though that was only a small minority." "I don't believe Dante laughed at all," Lowell replied meaningfully. Sheldon was about to answer, but Lowell raised his hat and continued walking towards Craigie's house. "Remember my wish, remember!" Sheldon called after him. Sitting in Longfellow's library, Dr. Holmes noticed a striking engraving in a newspaper—arranged by Nicholas Ray.The engraving depicts the man who fell to his death in the courtyard of the General Directorate by jumping out of the window.Newspapers said nothing about the death.However, it mentioned the disheveled hair and sunken face of the person who jumped from the window, and asked readers to contact the police chief's office if they have information on the family. "At what point did you start wanting to find the family of the deceased rather than the deceased?" Holmes asked the others. "When he died," he asked himself. Lowell studied the portrait carefully. "I don't believe I have ever seen a man with such a sad countenance. This event was important enough to interest the Chief of Police. I think you are right, Holmes. Little Healy had said that the deceased had Whispered a few words with Sergeant Ray, but the police still haven't found out the identity of the deceased. It's a beautiful move to publish the notice in the newspaper." The newspaper owed Fields a favor, so on his way to the city center, Fields stopped by the newspaper to inquire about the inside story, and only then did he learn that a mulatto police officer had arranged to publish the advertisement. "Nicholas Ray." Over dinner at the Longfellows' house, Fields thought it was a little unusual. "Healey and Talbot were killed, and the police were focusing on a dead bum, Seems a little strange. Did they perceive a connection between the two murders? Did the officer understand what the dead man was whispering?" "Not necessarily," Lowell said, "if that's the case, he's likely to suspect us." After hearing Lowell's words, Holmes immediately became nervous, "So we have to find out the identity of this person before Officer Lei!" "Oh, let's give Richard Healy six cheers then. We now know how Ray came to us with hieroglyphs," Fields said. was taken into the police station and the officers must have questioned them about the murder of Healy. We can deduce that the poor fellow knew about Dante, who was getting more and more frightened, after reading to Ray in Italian the passage leading up to the murder. After a few verses from the psalm, he began to run away—followed by the police, he jumped out of the window in a panic.” "What could it be that frightened him to death?" Holmes wondered. "We're pretty sure he wasn't the killer himself, he died two weeks before Talbot was killed," Fields said. Lowell stroked his beard and fell into deep thought, "That's right, but he may have known who the murderer was for a long time, and was terrified by their acquaintance. If this is the case, he probably knows the murderer well." "It's his knowledge that scares him, just like ours. So how do we find out about him before the police?" Holmes asked. Longfellow, who had been quiet for a while, now offered his opinion, "My friends, we have two advantages over the police in identifying the man who jumped from the window: Imagine, and when he was in danger, he blurted out Dante's lines. So we can guess that he was probably an Italian beggar, but literate. And a Catholic." The Cathedral of the Holy Cross is one of the oldest Catholic churches in Boston.A man was unshaven and hadn't shaved for three or four days, and his hat was pulled down over his eyes and ears.He lay lazily in front of the church, motionless, like a statue of a god.He was lying on the sidewalk, his limbs stretched as far as his bones allowed, and he took food out of a clay pot without any haste, with an extremely leisurely demeanor.A passerby asked him something as he passed.He didn't even turn his head or make a sound. "Sir," Police Officer Ray knelt down beside him, holding the newspaper with the picture of the window jumper in front of his eyes, "do you know this man, sir?" The tramp finally rolled his eyes, and glanced at the portrait. Ray pulled his police ID from his pocket. "Sir, my name is Nicholas Ray, and I am a Sergeant of the Municipal Police. It is very important that I know the name of this man. He is dead and out of his misery. Excuse me, do you know this man? Do you know anyone who does?" ?" The homeless man reached into the clay pot, picked out a handful of food between his thumb and forefinger, put it in his mouth, and shook his head calmly. Officer Ray stood up and continued down the street, a row of noisy grocery stores and butcher's carts. About ten minutes later, a carriage stopped at a nearby platform to unload passengers, and two more people approached the immobile homeless man.One of them held up the same newspaper and showed him the same portrait. "Boy, can you tell us you know this man?" Holmes asked kindly and humbly. The reappearance of the portrait almost woke the tramp out of his daydream. Lowell leaned forward, "Sir?" Holmes pushed the newspaper in front of him again. "Tell us, buddy, if this guy looks familiar to you? Then we'll walk away happily." No response.Lowell said loudly, "You don't have to wear a hearing aid to hear?" Shouting is of no avail.The tramp picked out a small mouthful of unknown food from the clay pot, put it in his mouth and let it slip down the throat, saving even the effort of swallowing. "You have to admit," Lowell said to Holmes, who was standing nearby, "we've been asking for three days and we've found nothing. The man doesn't have many friends." "We have climbed the Hercules pillar in the high-end district, don't give up halfway here." Holmes noticed that when they held up the newspaper, there was a strange light in the homeless man's eyes.He also noticed a medal hanging around his neck: San Paolino, patron saint of Lucca, Tuscany.Lowell followed Holmes' gaze. "Where are you from, sir?" asked Lovell in Italian. The person being interrogated was still staring straight ahead, but finally spoke: "Luka, sir." Lowell praised that Lucca is a famous place with beautiful scenery.The Italian was not at all surprised that Lowell spoke Italian.Like all proud Italians, he was born with expectations that everyone in the world would talk about meaning. Italian; now he felt that it would be a good idea to exchange a word or two with each other.So Lowell asked him again about the man in the portrait.The most important thing, the poet explained, was to find out his name, find his family, and give him a proper funeral. "We believe that this poor man is also from Lucca," he said sadly in Italian, "and he deserves to be buried in the cathedral cemetery." The Luka considered for a moment, then twisted his elbow vigorously and pointed with his food-picking fingers at the church door behind him. They were received by a chubby, dignified priest. "Lonza," he said, returning the paper, "yes, he's been here. I believe his name is Lonza. Yes, Griffon Lonza." "So, do you know him?" Lowell asked hopefully. "He knows our church, Mr. Lowell," said the priest gently. "The Vatican has entrusted us with administering a fund to support immigrants. We provide loans and travel expenses for those who have no money to return to their hometowns. Of course, we only Can help a few." He had a lot to say, but he kept his mouth shut. "What do you want him for, gentlemen? Why is his portrait printed in a newspaper?" "I'm afraid he's dead, Father. We believe the police are trying to identify him," said Dr. Holmes. "Oh. I thought you might find that none of the congregation of this church, nor the congregation of the surrounding area, was willing to talk to the police about anything. In retrospect, when the Ursuline convent was burned to the ground, it was The police stand by and do no justice. And when there is crime in the locality, it is the poor and the Irish Catholics who are harassed by the police.” He babbled, with clerical rage, “The rich pay a For a small fee they could sit at home, and the Irish were sent to war to die fighting to liberate the Negroes, who are now coming to take their jobs." Holmes wanted to say after hearing this: My little Holmes never did such a thing, my good priest.In fact, however, Holmes had persuaded Holmes Jr. to be exempted from military service. "Does Lonza want to go back to Italy?" Lovell asked. "I can't tell, God knows what he's up to. If I remember correctly, the man came here to find a bite to eat. We give out regularly and give small loans to keep people out of bankruptcy. If I were Italian , I might be tempted to go back to my own people. Most of our members are Irish. I don't think Italians will be particularly popular among them. In all of Boston and the environs there are no Italians more than Three hundred. They are in rags, and they need our sympathy and handouts. But the more immigrants come from other countries, the less chance the first-comers have of finding work—you know the potential trouble." "Father, do you know if Mr. Lonza has any family?" Holmes asked. The priest shook his head, thought for a moment, and then said: "Let me just say, here is a gentleman who keeps him company occasionally. Lonza is a drunkard, and he needs to be looked after. Yes, what's his name? Yes. A very rare Italian surname." The priest walked towards the table, "we should have his records, and he also asked us for a loan. Aha, this is it-a tutor who teaches Chinese. A year and a half ago he Borrowed us $50. I remember he said he worked at Harvard, though I was a little skeptical. Found it." He read the name on the record: "Pietro Baki." Ray was questioning some ragged kids who were cleaning the stable feed troughs when he saw two men in top hats come out of Holy Cross, round the corner and disappear.Even from a distance, it was obvious at a glance that they definitely did not belong to this crowded and dirty place.Ray walked into the church and asked to see the priest.The priest heard that Ray was a police officer and was looking for an unknown person. He stared at the portrait in the newspaper for a few moments, then looked at the officer through the thick lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, and calmly apologized to him. "I'm afraid I never saw the poor fellow, Inspector." Recalling the two men in top hats, Ray asked if anyone else had come to check on the unidentified man.The priest put Bucky's record back in the drawer, smiled, and replied nonchalantly that there was no. Officer Ray then went to Cambridge.The Headquarters received a telegram stating that, at midnight tonight, an attempt had been made to open the coffin and steal Judge Healy's body. "I told them what the consequences would be if the public knew the details of Healy's death." Speaking of Healy's family, Director Kurtz complained regardless of his identity.Mount Auburn Cemetery has placed Healey's body in a steel coffin and has an additional night watchman equipped with a shotgun.On a hillside not far from Healy's grave, a statue donated to Reverend Talbot has been erected in his burial site.The face of the statue has a kind and compassionate expression, which can not help beautifying the priest's actual appearance.The marble-carved priest holds a Bible in one hand and a pair of spectacles in the other, exactly as he preaches; he has a quirk of taking off his wide spectacles when he reads from the lectern, and waits until he is free. Wear it again during sermons.This seems to implicitly teach that reading the will of God requires a sharp eye. On his way to Auburn Hills to investigate under the order of Director Kurtz, Ray was stopped by a small commotion.He was told that an old man who lived on the second floor of a nearby building had been missing for more than a week.This was not unusual, as he was traveling sometimes, but a bad smell emanated from his room, and the neighbors demanded that something be done to see what was going on.Ray knocked on the door and found that the door was dead bolted from the inside, so he borrowed a ladder and leaned against the window sill, trying to climb in through the window.He climbed up the ladder and opened the window to look into the room. Immediately, there was a foul smell, which made him almost fall off the ladder.