Chapter 6 dying detective
Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of Sherlock Holmes, has suffered a lot for a long time.Not only was her second floor constantly visited by strange and often unwelcome guests, but even her famous lodger's life was eccentric and irregular, which severely tested her patience. .His unbelievable slovenliness: his tendency to listen to music at odd hours; Bad tenant.
However, the rent he paid was very high.There can be no doubt that during the years I lived with Holmes the rent he paid was sufficient to purchase the dwelling.
The landlady was so afraid of him that she never dared to interfere with him, no matter how intolerable his behavior.She also liked him because he was very gentle and courteous to women.He does not like or trust women, but he is always an opponent of chivalry.Knowing that she genuinely cared for him, I listened carefully to my landlady when she came to my house in the second year of my marriage to tell me the plight of my poor friend. .
"He's dying, Dr. Watson," she said. "He's been very ill for three days, and I'm afraid he won't survive today. He won't let me call for a doctor. I saw his cheekbones stick out on both sides this morning. Two big eyes looked at me, and I couldn't stand it any longer. 'Whether you like it or not, Mr. Holmes, I'll call for the doctor,' said I. 'Then, call for Watson.' Said he. Time must not be wasted in saving him, sir, or you shall not see him while he is still alive."
I was taken aback.I heard nothing about his illness.Without saying anything, I hurriedly dressed and hatted.Along the way, I asked her to tell me the details.
"Not much to say, sir. He's been working on some disease at Rosehit, in a little alley by the river. He's come back, and brought the disease with him. After lying in bed on Wednesday afternoon." , I haven’t moved around. It’s been three days and I haven’t eaten or drank.”
"My God! Why don't you call a doctor?"
"He won't, sir. You know how bossy he is. I dare not disobey him. He won't grow long in this world. You'll see for yourself when you see him."
He looked really miserable.It was November, foggy, and the little ward was gloomy in the dim light.But what made my heart tremble was the thin and withered face looking at me on the hospital bed.His eyes were red with fever, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were covered with black skin.The two hands on the bed sheet were twitching constantly, and the voice was hoarse and urgent.He was lying limp when I entered the room.When he saw me, there was a look of recognition in his eyes.
"Well, Watson, it seems we've had an unlucky day," he said in a weak voice, but still with some old indifference.
"My dear fellow!" I cried, going up to him.
"Stand away! Stand away!" he said.That tense look only reminded me of moments of danger. "If you come near me, Watson, I will order you out."
"why?"
"Because, I want to. Isn't that enough?"
right.Mrs. Hudson was right.He's more bossy than ever.But it was pitiful to see him exhausted.
"I just wanted to help you," I explained.
"Extremely right, do what you are told to do, that is the best help."
"Of course, Holmes."
His stern manner softened.
"Aren't you mad?" he asked me out of breath.
Poor man, how can I be angry lying in bed and suffering so much?
"It is done for your own sake, Watson," he said hoarsely.
"for me?"
"I know what's wrong with me. I've got a coolie disease that came from Sumatra. The Dutch know it better than we do, though they haven't been able to do anything about it yet. One thing's for sure, it's a deadly disease. , very easily contagious."
He spoke weakly, as if he had a high fever, and waved his big hands twitching, telling me to go away.
"It's contagious by contact, Watson—yes, contact. You'll be all right if you stand a little farther away."
"Good heavens, Holmes! Do you think you can stop me at once by saying this? Not even a stranger can stop me. Do you think that will make me abdicate my duty to my old friend?"
I walked on again, but he stopped me, apparently out of temper.
"If you stand still, I will tell you. Otherwise, you leave the room."
I have the utmost respect for the sublime qualities of Holmes, and I always listen to what he says, even if I don't understand it.Now, though, my professional instincts fired me up.Other things can be controlled by him. In this ward, he has to be controlled by me.
"Holmes," I said, "you are very ill. A sick man should behave like a child. I have come to see you. Whether you like it or not, I will see your symptoms and prescribe the right medicine."
His eyes stared fiercely at me.
"If I had to have a doctor, at least it would have to be someone I could trust," he said.
"So, you can't trust me?"
"Of course I can trust your friendship. But facts are facts, Watson. After all, you are just an ordinary doctor with limited experience and poor qualifications. It would be unpleasant to say such things, but you make me stop. There is no other way."
These words stabbed me hard.
"That does not suit you, Holmes. You speak clearly of your state of mind. If you do not trust me, I will not force you. I will send for Sir Jasper Meek or Penrose Fisher. , or any other best doctor in London. After all, you must have a doctor. If you think that I can stand here and die, and not ask another doctor to help you, then you will take your My friend got it wrong."
"You mean very well, Watson," said the sick man, part whimper, part moan. "Shall I point out your own ignorance? Excuse me, do you know about fever? Do you know about black septicemia?"
"I haven't heard of either disease."
"Watson, in the East there are many diseases, many strange pathologies," he said, pausing to gather his feeble strength. "I've been doing some research on medical crime lately, and I've learned a lot from it. I got my disease in the course of doing it. There's nothing you can do about it."
"Perhaps so. However, I happen to know that Dr. Einstree is in London at the moment. He is one of the surviving authorities on tropical diseases. Don't refuse, Holmes. I will send for him." I said. Resolutely turned around and walked towards the door.
I've never been so surprised!The patient jumped up from the bed like a tiger and stopped me.I heard the key click in the lock.After a while, the patient staggered back to the bed.After this provocation, he exhausted a lot of physical strength, exhausted, and lay on the bed panting.
"You will not take the key from me, Watson; I keep you, my friend. I will not let you go, and you will not. But I will obey your heart." "(These words are all panting, inhaling desperately after each sentence.) "You are only thinking about me, of course I understand that. You can do what you want, but, give me time, let me I have regained my strength. Now, Watson, not now. It is four o'clock. By six o'clock I will let you go."
"You are absolutely mad, Holmes."
"Just two hours, Watson. I promise you to leave at six. Will you wait?"
"It seems that I have no other choice."
"Certainly not, Watson. Thank you, I don't need your help in making the bedding. Please stay away. Watson, I have one more condition. You can find someone to help me, but not from the one you mentioned." seek help not from others, but from those whom I choose."
"of course can."
"The words 'Of course' are the first reasonable words you have uttered since you entered the room, Watson, there are books. I have no energy. , I don't know how this set of batteries will feel. At six o'clock, Watson, we shall talk."
But it was certain that the conversation resumed long before six o'clock, and the circumstances surprised me almost as much as when he jumped at the door.
I stood for a while, looking at the silent figure on the hospital bed.The quilt almost completely covered his face.He seems to have fallen asleep.I had no intention of sitting down and reading, so I paced the room slowly, looking at the photographs of famous criminals plastered on the surrounding walls.I walked aimlessly up and down, and at last came to the mantelpiece.There were pipes, tobacco-pouches, syringes, knives, pistol cartridges, and other miscellaneous things scattered about on the stage.Inside was a small black and white ivory box with a removable lid.It was a delicate little thing, and I was reaching for it to examine it more closely, when—he burst into a yelp—a cry that could be heard in the street.This terrible cry made me feel cold and terrified.I turned around and saw a twitching face and two frightened eyes.I stood there motionless with the little box in my hand.
"Put it down! Put it down, Watson--put it down at once!" His head fell back on the pillow.I put the locket back on the mantelpiece, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I hate it when people touch my things, Watson. I hate it, and you know it. You make me intolerable. You doctor—you're driving the sick to the asylum. Sit down, man, and let the I rest!"
This accident made a very unpleasant impression on me.The roughness and gratuitous agitation at first, followed by such a roughness of speech, how far from his usual geniality.It shows how confused his mind is.Of all evils, the destruction of the noble mind is the most lamentable.I sat silent and depressed until the allotted time had elapsed.I kept looking at the clock, and he seemed to have been looking at the clock, too, for just after six he began talking, as alive as ever.
"Now, Watson," said he, "have you any change in your pocket?"
"Have."
"What about silver coins?"
"a lot of."
"How much is half a crown?"
"Five."
"Oh, too little! too little! What a misfortune, Watson! You put it in your fob-pocket, and the rest in your left trouser pocket. Thank you. That's it. Once you come, it will keep you balanced."
What a load of gibberish.He trembled, and again made a sound that was both coughing and whimpering.
"You light the gas now, Watson, but be careful, it is only half lit. I beg you to be careful, Watson. Thank you. That is very good. No, you needn't draw the shutters. Please put your letters and newspapers in the On this table, as long as I can reach it. Thank you. Bring me some more of the mess on the mantelpiece. Very well, Watson! There is a sugar-cube tong on it. Use the tong to hold that little ivory tong. Clip the box up and put it in the newspaper here. Good! Now, you may fetch Coverton Smith at 13 Lower Bourke Street."
To tell the truth, I had little desire to call for a doctor, for poor Holmes was in such a stupor that it would be dangerous to leave him.However, now he wants to invite the person he mentioned to see a doctor, and his mood is as urgent as his attitude of not allowing me to invite a doctor just now.
"I've never heard that name," I said.
"Probably not, my good Watson. I will tell you, perhaps to your surprise, that the expert in this disease is not a doctor, but a planter. Coverton Secretary Mr. Mies, a well-known person in Sumatra, is now visiting London. An infestation has arose on his plantations, and, being unable to get medical help, he has been obliged to pursue his own investigations, which have produced very impressive results. He is a very methodical man, and I tell you not to go before six o'clock, because I know you will not find him in his study. If you can invite him, with his unique treatment of this disease With experience in solving our difficulties—his investigation of this disease has become his greatest passion—I have no doubt that he will help me.”
Holmes' speech was coherent and complete; but I do not want to describe how his speech was constantly interrupted by gasps, or how pain caused him to scratch and pinch his hands.During the few hours I spent with him, he seemed to be getting worse: the fever spots were more pronounced, the gaze from the deep-set black eye sockets was more piercing, the cold sweat was breaking out on his brow.However, the ease with which he speaks remains the same.Even to his deathbed, he was still a dominator.
"Tell him in detail what happened to me when you left," he said, "and you're going to express the impression in your mind--dying--dying, delirious. Really, I can't think why the whole beach isn't A whole bountiful oyster. Ah, I'm confused! How strange that brains should be controlled by brains! What am I talking about, Watson?"
"Send me for Mr. Coverton Smith."
"Oh, yes, I remember. My life depends on him. Go and beseech him, Watson. He and I have no mutual affection. He has a nephew, Watson--I suspected there was something mean about it." Well, I made him see it. The boy died a terrible death. Smith hates me. You're going to win him over, Watson. Beg him, beg him, do everything you can to get him. He Can save me—only he!"
"In that case, I'll take him into the carriage."
"That will not do. You will convince him to come. Then you will come back here before him. Use whatever excuse you want, don't come with him. Don't forget, Watson. You will not make I am disappointed. You have never failed me. There must be natural enemies that limit the reproduction of living things. Watson, you and I have done our part. Will the world, then, be inundated with overpopulated oysters What? No, no, terrible! You have to express everything in your heart."
I totally let him babble and babble like a silly boy.He handed me the key, and I was overjoyed, and took it quickly, or he would have locked himself in the house.Mrs. Hudson waited in the passage, trembling and weeping.I walked through the apartment, and Holmes' shrieking voice came from behind me.Downstairs, while I was hailing a cab, a man came through the fog.
"How is Mr. Holmes, sir?" he asked.
It turned out to be an old acquaintance, Sheriff Morton of Scotland Yard.He was wearing tweed plain clothes.
"He's very ill," I replied.
He looked at me with a very strange look.If it didn't seem too vicious to think so, I would think that seeing him under the headlights was full of joy.
"I heard some rumors about his illness," he said.
The carriage moved and I left him.
Lower Bourke Street was originally at the junction of Notting Hill and Kensington.The houses in this area are nice, but the boundaries are not clear.The carriage stopped in front of a house.There was a dignified and austere air about the house, with its old-fashioned iron railings, double doors and shiny brass.A serious steward appeared, with a reddish electric light coming from behind him.Everything here is in harmony with him.
"Mr. Coverton Smith is inside, Dr. Watson! Very well, sir, and I will give him your card."
I am nobody, and I will not attract the attention of Mr. Coverton Smith.Through the half-open door, I heard a high-pitched, raspy voice.
"Who is this man? What is he up to? Well, Staples, how many times have I told you not to be disturbed while I'm doing my research?"
The steward gave a consoling explanation in a soft voice.
"Oh, I don't see him, Staples. My work can't be interrupted like this. I'm not at home. Just tell him so. If you must see me, tell him to come in the morning."
I thought of Holmes tossing and turning in his hospital bed, counting the minutes, waiting for me to help him.Now is not the time to be polite.His life depended on my promptness and promptness.The steward, who was very sorry to the master, had not had time to deliver the master's message, but I had already rushed past him and entered the house.
A man rose from an armchair by the fire, screaming angrily.I saw a yellowish face, fleshy and greasy; a large double chin; a pair of sullen, menacing gray eyes staring at me from under shaggy tawny eyebrows; A velvet smoking cap was leaning on the ground.The head was huge, but when I looked down, I was surprised to see that the man's body was small and weak, with arched shoulders and back, as if he had suffered from rickets when he was a child.
"What's the matter?" he screamed aloud. "What do you mean by breaking in like this? Didn't I send you a message to come tomorrow morning?"
"I beg your pardon," said I, "but there must be no delay. Mr. Sherlock Holmes—"
The mention of my friend's name had an unusual effect on this little character.The angry expression on his face disappeared immediately, and his expression became tense and vigilant.
"Are you from Holmes?" he asked.
"I just came from him."
"How is Holmes? How is he?"
"He's sick to death. That's why I'm here."
He pointed me to a chair, and he sat down in his own.Just then I caught a glimpse of his face in a mirror on the fireplace wall.I could swear there was a wicked, sinister smile on his face.But I thought to myself that I must have accidentally induced some kind of nervous tension, because there was a look of genuine concern on his face when he turned to look at me a moment later.
"I was disturbed to hear the news," he said. "I only came to know Mr. Holmes through a few business deals. But I value his talent and character. He studied criminology as an amateur, and I studied pathology as an amateur. He catches bad guys, I kill germs. This is my prison." ,” he said, pointing to rows of bottles and cans on a small table. "Among the colloids cultivated here, some of the most vicious criminals in the world are serving their sentences."
"It is because of your special knowledge that Holmes wants to see you. He thinks highly of you. He thinks you are the only one who can help him in London."
The diminutive figure was taken aback when the fashionable smoking cap slipped to the floor.
"Why?" asked he. "Why does Holmes think I can help him out of his difficulties?"
"Because you know the diseases of the East."
"Why does he think his disease is an Eastern disease?"
"Because, during the investigation and understanding of his occupation, he worked with Chinese sailors on the dock."
Mr. Coverton Smith smiled happily, and picked up his smoking cap.
"Oh, it's like—eh?" he said. "I don't think it's so serious as you think. How long has he been ill?"
"Almost three days."
"Are you in a coma?"
"Sometimes in a coma."
"Tut! tut! That's a very serious thing to say. It would be inhumane not to grant his request to see him. And I would be very reluctant to interrupt my work, Dr. Watson. But of course that's another matter. I I'll go with you right away."
I thought of Holmes' instructions.
"I have another date," I said.
"Very well. I will go alone. I have the address of Mr. Holmes. You may rest assured that I will be there in half an hour at the latest."
I went back to Holmes' bedroom with apprehension.I'm afraid something will happen when I'm not around.For a while, he was much better.I am relieved.His face was still pale, but he had no symptoms of coma.His voice was weak, but more sober than usual.
"Well, have you seen him, Watson?"
"Yes. He will come."
"Very well, Watson! Very well! You are the best messenger."
"He wants to come with me."
"That is absolutely impossible, Watson. It is evidently impossible. Did he ask what is wrong with me?"
"I told him about the Chinese."
"Yes! Well, Watson, you have done your duty as a good friend. Now you may retire."
"I must wait, I must listen to him, Holmes."
"Of course. But if he thinks there are only two people left here, I have every reason to think that his opinion will be more candid and more valuable. There just happens to be a place behind my head of the bed, Watson."
"My dear Holmes!"
"I don't think there is any other way, Watson. This place is not suitable for hiding people, but it is not easy to attract suspicion. Just hide there, Watson, I think it will work." He sat up suddenly, with a haggard face. Appear serious and attentive. "Heard the wheels, quick, Watson, quick, old man, if you're really a good friend of mine. Don't move, you must not move, whatever happens, do you hear me? Don't talk! Don't move! Listen! That's it." In the blink of an eye, his sudden energy was gone, and his voice had turned into a delirious, faint grunt.
I hastened to hide.I heard footsteps going upstairs, bedroom doors opening and closing.Later, I was very surprised: there was no sound for a long time, only the patient's rapid breathing and panting were heard.I can imagine our visitor standing at the bedside and observing the patient.
The silence was finally broken.
"Sherlock Holmes!" he cried, "Sherlock Holmes!" with the urgency of waking a sleeping man. "Can you hear me, Holmes?" came a rustling voice, as if he were shaking the sick man's shoulders.
"Is that Mr. Smith?" whispered Holmes. "I dare not think that you will come."
The man smiled.
"I don't think so," he said. "Look, here I come. It's called doing good for bad, Holmes—good for bad!"
"You are very kind - very noble. I appreciate your special knowledge."
Our visitor gave a chuckle.
"You are appreciative. Fortunately, you are the only one in London who does. Do you know what you have?"
"Same disease," said Holmes.
"Ah! You recognize the symptoms?"
"Too clear."
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised at that, Holmes. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the same disease. If it were the same disease, you would have a bad future. Poor Victor died on the fourth day of his illness." Dead—he was a strong, lively young lad. Of course it is surprising, as you say, that he should have contracted this rare Asiatic disease in the heart of London. Of which I am A special study has also been carried out. Strange coincidence, Holmes. You have done well to notice it. But it must be ruthlessly pointed out that there is a causal connection."
"I know you did it."
"Oh, you know, don't you? But you can't prove it after all. You spread rumors about me, and now you're sick and come to me for help, how do you feel about yourself? What kind of game is this— -Uh?"
I heard the patient's rapid and labored gasps. "Give me water!" he gasped.
"You're going to die, my friend. But I've got to finish talking to you before you die. So I'll give you the water. Hold it and don't pour it out! Yes. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Holmes groaned.
"Help me as much as you can. Let it go," he whispered. "I'll forget what I said--I swear, I will. Just cure me and I'll forget it .”
"Forget what?"
"Well, forget how Victor Savage died. In fact you just admitted it, you did it. I must forget it."
"You forget it, you remember it, it's up to you. I shall not see you on the witness stand. I will assure you, my Holmes, that I will see you under very different circumstances. The same seat. Even if you knew how my nephew died, what can you do to me. We are not talking about him now but you."
"Yep."
"The chap who came to me—I forget his name—told me you caught it among the East End sailors."
"That's all I can explain."
"You think you have a great mind, I'm sorry, Holmes? You think you are very clever, don't you? This time, you have met someone who is even wiser than you. Just think about it, Holmes, and you will not suffer from this disease again." Is there a reason?"
"I can't think. My brain is broken. For God's sake, help me!"
"Yes, I want to help you. I want to help you figure out where you are and how you got here. Before you die, I want you to know."
"Give me something to ease my pain."
"Is it painful? Yes, coolies always howl when they are about to die. I think you must have cramp."
"Yes, yes, cramp."
"Well, but you can still hear what I'm saying. Now listen! Do you remember anything unusual happening to you right around the time your symptoms started?"
"No, no, not at all."
"Think again."
"I'm too sick to remember."
"Oh, so I'll help you. Got any mail?"
"mail?"
"Accidentally received a small box?"
"I'm dizzy—I'm dying!"
"Listen, Holmes!" came a sound, as if he were shaking a dying patient.I can only hide there silently. "You must listen to me. You must listen to me. You remember a box—an ivory box? It came on Wednesday. You opened it—remember?"
"Yes, yes, I opened it up. There's a sharp spring in it. Just kidding—"
"No kidding. You fell for it. You fool, you got it on your own. Who told you to mess with me? If you don't come to trouble me, I won't hurt you."
"I remember," panted Holmes, "the spring! It was bleeding. This box—that's the one on the table."
"That's it, yes! Put it in your pocket and take the matter away. You have lost the last sliver of evidence. Now you see the truth, Holmes. You know that I killed you, and you can die. You are right Victor Savage's fate is well known, so I leave it to you to share. You are near death, Holmes. I will sit here and watch you die."
Holmes's small voice was almost inaudible.
"Say what?" asked Smith. "Turn the gas light up? Ah, it's night, huh? All right. I'll turn it. I can see you better." He walked across the room, and suddenly the lights came on . "Is there anything else I can do for you, my friend?"
"Matches, cigarettes."
I was surprised and almost cried out.He spoke in his natural voice—a little weak, perhaps, but it was the voice I was familiar with.Long pause.I felt that Coverton Smith stood looking at his companion in silence and amazement.
"What does this mean?" I finally heard him speak, his voice anxious and tense.
"The most successful way of playing a part is to play it yourself," said Holmes. "As I tell you, I have had nothing to eat or drink for three days, and it is your kindness to pour me a glass of water. But I Tobacco is the hardest thing. Ah, there are cigarettes here." I heard the sound of a match being struck. "That's much better. Hello! Hello! Did I hear a friend's step?"
Footsteps sounded outside.The door opened and Sheriff Morton appeared.
"All right, this is the man you are looking for," said Holmes.
The officer issued the usual warning.
"I arrest you for the murder of Victor Savage," he said finally.
"You may add one more. He also tried to murder a man named Sherlock Holmes," said my friend, laughing, "to save a sick man, Sheriff, Mr. Coverton Smith. Turn on the light and give our signal. By the way, there is a small box in the right pocket of the prisoner's coat. It is better to take off his coat. Thank you. If I were you, I would hold it carefully. Put it here , which may be of use in interrogation."
There was a sudden commotion and scuffle, followed by a clash of iron and a cry.
"You're only asking for trouble," said the sheriff. "Stand still, do you hear?" The handcuffs snapped shut.
"The trap is really wonderful!" There was a roar. "It was Holmes, not me, who was in the dock. He asked me to come and treat him. I was worried for him, and I came. Of course he would excuse himself by saying that I was the one who made up what he said, in order to prove his insanity. Ching's suspicions are true. You may lie as you please, Holmes. My words are as trustworthy as yours."
"Good heavens!" cried Holmes, "I have quite forgotten him. My dear Watson, I am so sorry. I have forgotten you! There is no need to introduce Mr. Coverton Smith to you, because You have met earlier. Is there a carriage outside? I will go with you when I get dressed, because I may be of some use to the police station."
"I have no need of this attire," said Holmes.He drank a glass of wine and ate some biscuits in between washing up, and he felt much better. "But, you know, my habits are irregular, and it doesn't matter to me, and probably not to many others. The most important thing is to convince Mrs. Hudson of my situation, because it has to be done by She will tell you, and you will tell him. You are not surprised, Watson? You know, you have no talent for disguising. If I let you know my secret, you will never rush to him. and it was a key part of the whole plan. I knew he was out for revenge, so I was sure he would come and see his handiwork."
"But your appearance, Holmes—what about your ghastly pale face?"
"Fasting for three days does not add beauty, Watson. For the rest, a sponge will do. Vaseline on the forehead, belladonna in the eyes, lipstick on the cheekbones, and a smudge on the lips." A layer of wax can produce wonderful effects. Masquerade is one of the subjects of which I sometimes like to write. Now and then a half-crown, oysters, and the like can produce a miraculous effect of delirium. "
"Since there is no contagion in fact, why don't you allow me to be near you?"
"Do you ask this, my dear Watson? Do you think I despise your medical profession? However feeble I may be as a dying patient, my pulse is slow and my temperature is low. Does it not escape your astute judgement?" Is it four yards from you to deceive you? If I can't do that, who's going to bring Smith into my grasp? No one, Watson. I won't touch that The box. When you open the box and look over the side, you'll see that spring sticking out like a viper's tooth. Savage is the one who stands in the way of the devil's inheritance, and I dare say he uses it like that. Trick to kill poor Savage. You know, I get all sorts of mail, and I'm on the lookout for any package that comes to me. I know I'm pretending he's got his trick, That way I can catch him off guard and get him to confess. I have done this feigned illness with the thoroughness of a true artist. Thank you, Watson, you will help me get dressed. When I have finished my business at the police station, I will It would be appropriate to think of Simpson's for some nutritious and delicious food."
Notes:
Notes: