Chapter 7 The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

"Why Turkish?" asked Sherlock Holmes, his eyes fixed on my boots.I was reclining in a rattan chair, and my protruding feet attracted his great attention. "British," I replied, somewhat surprised, "from Latimer's in Oxford Street." Holmes smiled impatiently. "The bathhouse!" he said, "the bathhouse! Why go to the relaxing and costly Turkish bath instead of a refreshing home-style bath?" "Because I have a rheumatism these days and I feel old. The Turkish bath is what we call a desirable therapy, a new beginning, a cleanser for the body."

"Well, by the way, Holmes," I continued, "I have no doubt that the connection between boots and the Turkish bath is self-evident to a careful mind. I should be very obliged, however, if you would clarify. " "That is not very profound, Watson," said Holmes, with a mischievous wink. "I still want to use the same set of inferences. Let me ask you, who was in the car with you when you came back this morning." "I don't think a novel illustration is an explanation," I said wryly. "Well, Watson! What a solemn and reasonable protest. Let me see, what is the problem? Let me bring the last to the fore--the carriage. Look, you see splashes on your left sleeve and shoulder. There's mud. If you're sitting in the middle of the car, there's no mud. If you're sitting in the middle of the car, if you have mud, of course it's on both sides. So, you're sitting on one side of the car, that's clear. You have That, too, is clear, comrade."

"It's obvious." "It's unremarkable, isn't it?" "But boots and a bath?" "Simple as well. You have your own way of wearing your boots. What I see now is that the boots are tied with double knots, carefully tied, which is not your usual way. You have taken off your boots. Who tied them The shoemaker—or the bathhouse boy. It can't be the shoemaker, because your boots are almost new. Oh, what else? Take a bath. That's ridiculous, isn't it? But anyway, take a Turkish bath It has a purpose." "What purpose?" "You say you have had a Turkish bath, because you want a change of bathing. I suggest you have one. My dear Watson, how about a trip to Lausanne? First-class tickets, and all expenses will be grand."

"Good! But why?" Holmes leaned back in the easy chair and took the notebook from his pocket. "The most dangerous kind of person in the world," he said, "is the wandering and lonely woman. Harmless in herself, and often useful, but always an occasion for others to commit crimes. She is helpless, She is home everywhere. She has enough money to carry her from country to country, hotel to hotel. She is often lost in the maze of remote apartments and boarding houses. She is one of the foxes lost in the world of foxes. A chick. Once she was swallowed up, she was rarely missed. I am afraid that some misfortune has met Lady Frances Carfax."

I was relieved to move suddenly from abstract generalizations to concrete problems.Holmes was consulting his notes. "Lady Frances," he went on, "is the only surviving member of the immediate family of the late Earl of Laverton. As you may recall, the inheritance went down to the next generation, except for her some very rare treasures and ingenuities of old Spanish silver. Polished diamonds. She loves them, she can't put them down, she won't deposit them with the banker, she always carries them with her. Lady Frances is a sentimental character, a beautiful woman, still in her vigorous middle age, but, Due to an unexpected encounter, it became the last abandoned ship of a huge fleet twenty years ago."

"Then what happened to her?" "Well, what has happened to Lady Frances? Is she alive or dead? That's what we're trying to find out. For four years she's written every other week to her old governess, Miss Dubney. Habit, never changing. Miss Dobney has long since retired and lives in Camberwell. It is this Miss Dobney who came to see me. Five weeks have passed without a word. Last letter It was sent from the Hôtel Nationale in Lausanne. Lady Frances appears to have left there without leaving an address. The family is in a hurry. They are very rich and will give us a great reward if we can get to the bottom of the matter."

"Is Miss Dubney the only one who can tell? The lady must have written to others, too?" "There is a correspondent for sure, Watson, and that is the bank. Single women have to live too. Their pass-books are diaries in miniature. Her money is in the Sylvester Bank. I have seen her account. She withdraws money." The last check was just to settle accounts in Lausanne, but the sum was so large that the cash probably remained with her. Only one check has been drawn since then." "Who is it for? Where is it going?" "Done to Miss Mary Devin. Where it was drawn is unclear. The check was cashed at the Bank of Rinas, Montpellier, less than three weeks ago. The total amount is fifty pounds."

"And who is this Miss Mary Devon?" "Well, I've found out. Miss Mary Devon was once the maid of Lady Frances Carfax. Why this check was given to her we cannot yet determine. But there is no doubt that your research will be very successful." Get this out of the way." "My research work?" "That's why I'm going to Lausanne for a recovery expedition. You know, I can't leave London for old Abrahams' fear of death. Besides, I'd better not go abroad as a rule. If not I, Scotland Yard, will be lonely, and cause an unhealthy excitement among the prisoners. Go, my dear Watson. If my humble opinion is worth twopence a word, let it be on the Continent The other end of the telegraph office is waiting for your orders day and night."

Two days later, I came to the National Hotel in Lausanne and was warmly received by the famous manager, Mr. Moser.According to him, Lady Frances had lived there for a few weeks.Everyone who met her loved her.She is not more than forty years old, and her charm still exists. One can imagine how beautiful she was when she was young.Moser was not aware of any precious jewels.But the waiter had said that the heavy suitcase in the lady's bedroom was always carefully locked.Like her mistress, Mary Devon, the maid, is on good terms with everyone.She was engaged to a head waiter in a hotel, and it was no trouble to find her address, which was at 11, Rue Trayan, Montpellier.I wrote down all these one by one.It seems to me that even Holmes himself was only so good at collecting information.

Only one thing is unclear.The reason for the lady's sudden departure has not yet been ascertained.She had a great time in Lausanne.There is every reason to believe that she wanted to spend this season in this luxurious room high on the lakeside, but she left one day after booking, paying a week's rent in vain.Only Jules Verba, the servant girl's lover, offered some observations.He connected the sudden departure with the visit of a tall, dark, bearded man a day or two earlier. "Barbarian—a real savage!" cried Jules Verba.This person lives somewhere in the city.He had been seen having a serious conversation with this lady on the lakeside veranda.Then he came to visit.She refused to see him.He is British, but did not leave his name.The lady then left the place.Jules Verba, and more importantly Jules Verba's lover, saw the visit as the cause and the departure as the effect.There was only one thing Jules could not talk about.This is why Mary wants to leave the mistress.He could not and would not say anything about this.If I want to know, I must go to Montpellier and ask her.

That concludes the first part of my query.The second part deals with the place that Lady Frances Carfax will seek after leaving Lausanne.There seemed to be some sort of secret about this which convinced one that she had gone there to get rid of someone.Otherwise, why wasn't her luggage openly labeled for Baden?Both herself and her luggage took a detour to the Rhine Tourist Area.This is what I gathered from my local Cook office manager.I telegraphed to Holmes, telling him all that I had done, and received a reply from him.He gave me a half-joking compliment.Then, I went to Baden. It is not difficult to follow the clues in Baden.Lady Frances stayed at the British Hotel for a fortnight.There she met Dr. Schlesinger, a missionary from South America, and his wife.Lady Frances, like most bachelorettes, found solace in religion.Dr. Schlesinger's extraordinary personality, his wholehearted devotion, and the fact that he was recovering from illnesses he had suffered in the course of his missionary ministry, had struck her deeply.She had helped Frau Schlesinger in the care of the recovering saint.The manager told me that the doctor spent the day in a lounge chair on the veranda, with an attendant standing beside him.He was drawing a map and writing a treatise on the Midian celestial sanctuary.At last, when he had fully recovered, he took his wife to London, and Lady Frances went with them.This was only three weeks ago.The manager hasn't heard anything since.As for Mary, the maid, she told the other maids that she would never do it again.She cried a lot in the first few days and left.Before Dr. Schlesinger left, his gang paid their bills. "Oh, yes," said the manager at last, "you're not the only one who inquired afterward about Ms. Frances Carfax. Someone came here a fortnight ago." "Did he leave his name?" I asked. "No, but he is English, though he looks peculiar." "A barbarian?" I said, connecting what I knew in the manner of my famous friend. "Yes. He's a savage, quite rightly. He's a big, bearded, tanned fellow, and he seems to be used to staying in country inns rather than fine hotels. He's a tough guy, and I wouldn't dare mess with him." .” Secret truths begin to emerge, and as the clouds gradually lift, the characters become clearer.A sinister fellow pursued this kind and pious lady, where she went, and where he went.She was afraid of him, otherwise she would not have escaped Lausanne.He is still following.Sooner or later he will catch up with her.Had he already caught up with her?Is this the secret of her continued silence?Had the good people with her company not shielded her from violence or blackmail?What terrible purpose, what esoteric design lay behind this long pursuit?This is the problem I'm trying to solve. I wrote to Holmes and told him that I had arrived at the root of the case with speed and certainty.Instead, I got a call back asking me to explain what Dr. Schlesinger's left ear looked like.Holmes's sense of humor is curious, and occasionally a little rash.Now is not the time for jokes, so I ignore them.In fact, before he telegraphed, I was in Montpellier in order to catch up with the maid Marie. It was not difficult to find the dismissed maid and to obtain what she knew.She is very loyal.The reason why she left her mistress was only because she was sure that her master had a reliable person to take care of her, and because her wedding day was coming, she must leave her master sooner or later.She admitted bitterly that the hostess had lost her temper with her when they lived in Baden.On one occasion he even questioned her, as if the hostess had doubts about her fidelity.Breaking up like this is actually easier to handle, otherwise it will be hard to leave.Frances gave her fifty pounds as a wedding present.Like me, Marie was very suspicious of the stranger who had driven her mistress away from Lausanne.She had seen him openly and viciously grab the lady's wrist on the lakeside promenade.He was fierce and terrifying.Mary believed that Lady Frances was willing to go to London with the Schlesingers because she was afraid of this man.She never mentioned this to Mary, but many small signs convinced the maid that her mistress had been living in a state of mental anxiety.As soon as she said this, she suddenly jumped up from her chair with a frightened expression on her face. "Look!" she exclaimed, "the scoundrel has stalked here! That's the man I was talking about." Through the open window in the living room, I saw a big black man with a black beard walking slowly towards the center of the street, eagerly checking the house number.Apparently he was on the hunt for the maid as much as I was.Impulsively, I ran out into the street and approached him to speak to him. "You're British," I said. "So what?" He asked me back, glaring. "May I ask your name?" "No, you can't," he said flatly. This situation is really embarrassing.However, the most straightforward way is often the best way. "Where is Lady Frances Carfax?" I asked. He looked at me in surprise. "What did you do to her? Why are you stalking her? I want your answer!" I said. The guy roared and swooped on me like a tiger.I've been through a lot of fights, and I can stand up to them.But this man had hands like iron pincers and was as crazy as a devil.He put his hands around my throat and nearly knocked me unconscious.At this time, a bearded worker in a blue overalls rushed out from a hotel on the opposite street, holding a short stick, and hit the guy who attacked me with a stick on the forearm, causing him to let go.The guy stood still for a moment, furious, wondering if he should let it go.Then, with a growl, he left me and went into the cottage from which I had just come.I turned and thanked my protector, who was standing beside me in the road. "Hey, Watson," said he, "you have made a mess! I think you had better come back to London with me on the express train to-night." An hour later, Sherlock Holmes was sitting in my hotel room in his usual attire and restored to his former poise.His sudden appearance, he explained, was simply because he thought he could get out of London, and decided to catch me at the next stop of my journey, which was obvious.He disguised himself as a workman and sat in the hotel waiting for me to show up. "My dear Watson, your investigative work has been consistent and not easy," said he. "I can't for the moment think of any possible oversight on your part. The whole effect of your actions was to sound the alarm here and there, and find nothing." "Even if you do it, you probably won't be better than me," I replied aggrievedly. "Not 'probably'. I've done a better job than you. The Honorable Philip Green is here in the same hotel as you. We can be sure that he is the starting point for a more fruitful investigation." A business card was brought in on a tray.Then a person came in, the gangster who beat me on the street just now.He was startled when he saw me. "What is the matter, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "I have come at your notice. But what has this man to do with me?" "This is my old friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. He is assisting us in solving the case." The stranger extended a large, sunburnt hand and apologized repeatedly. "I hope it didn't hurt you. You accused me of hurting her, and I got mad. I'm not responsible these days, to be honest. My nerves are like live wires. But in this situation, I cannot understand. The first thing I wish to know, Mr. Holmes, is how on earth did you find out about me?" "I got in touch with Miss Frances' governess, Miss Dobney." "Is that old Susan Dubney in a turban? I remember her." "She remembers you too. It was the other day—when you thought it best to go to South America." "Oh, you know all about me. I have nothing to hide from you. I swear to you, Mr. Holmes, that no man in the world has ever loved a woman as truly as I have loved Lady Frances. I am a wild boy, I know--I'm no worse than other young men. But her heart is white as snow. She can't bear the slightest bit of rudeness. So when she hears about what I've done, she leaves me alone. But she loves me --that's where the blame lies--she loved me so much, for me, that she remained celibate all those holy years. Years passed, and I made a fortune at Barberton. Then, I thought I might be able to find her and touch her. I hear she's still not married. I found her in Lausanne and did everything I could. I think she's getting weaker, but her will is strong, wait for me a second time Go to her, she has left Lausanne. I chased her again to Baden, and in a short time I heard her maid was here. I am a rough man, just out of the rough life, like Dr. Watson I couldn't help it when I was asked. For God's sake, tell me how Lady Frances is doing." "We want to make an inquiry," said Holmes, in a very serious tone. "What is your address in London, Mr. Green?" "You can find me at the Lamb's." "I advise you to go back there and don't leave. We can come to you in case we need something, okay? I don't want you to hope in vain, but you can believe that for the safety of Ms. Frances, we will do whatever we can." Do it at all costs. There is nothing else to say now. I will give you a card to keep in touch with us. Watson, pack your bags and I will send a telegram to Mrs. Hudson asking her to-morrow A nice meal for two hungry travelers at half past seven." When we got back to our lodgings in Baker Street a telegram was waiting for us.Holmes was surprised and delighted when he read the telegram.He threw the telegram at me.It read "Nicked or torn" and the telegram was sent to Baden. "What is this?" I asked. "That is everything," replied Holmes. "You will recall that I asked a question which seemed irrelevant to the case--the missionary's left ear. You did not answer me." "I have already left Baden and cannot ask." "Yes. That is why I sent a letter of the same nature to the manager of the British Hotel. Here is his answer." "What does this mean?" "It shows that we are dealing with a very cunning and dangerous man, my dear Watson. The Reverend Dr. Schlesinger is a South American missionary. He is Henry Peters, the most infamous rascal ever to appear in Australia." One—some sanctimonious figure has come into existence in this young country. It is his specialty to seduce lonely women and exploit their religious sensibilities. His so-called wife is an Englishman named Fraser, and he His right-hand man. I saw his identity from the nature of his practice, and his physical characteristics-a fight in an Adelaide salon in 1889, in which he was badly beaten in the middle—proven my suspicions. The poor lady fell into the hands of this diabolical couple capable of anything, Watson. Said she was dead, very likely. .If not dead, no doubt under house arrest, unable to write to Miss Dubney and other friends, it is possible that she never reached London at all, or passed through London. But the first The first possibility may not be possible, because there is a registration system in the European continent, and it is not easy for foreigners to play tricks on the mainland police. The second possibility is also impossible, because it is unlikely that these gangsters will find a place where they can easily detain a person Rise. My instinct tells me she is in London, but we cannot tell where she is at present, so we must take the present step, eat our food, nourish our energy, and wait patiently. In the evening, I will drop by Go to Scotland Yard and speak to our friend Lestrade." Neither the regular police nor Holmes' efficient team were sufficient to uncover the secret.In the sea of ​​millions in London, the three people we were looking for disappeared as if they didn't exist at all.Tried advertising, no luck.The clues were also chased, but nothing was found, and inferences were made about the places where Schlesinger might often commit crimes, but to no avail.His old accomplices were under surveillance, but they would not seek him.A week passed without knowing what to do, and suddenly a ray of light appeared.An old Spanish silver earring was pawned at Bovington's in Westminster Road.The man who pawned the earrings was a tall, clean-shaven, priestly man.It is understood he used a false name and a false address.Didn't notice his ears, but judging from what was said, it must be Schlesinger. Our bearded friend at the Lamb's came three times for information.On the third visit, this new discovery was less than an hour away.The clothes seemed to grow bigger and bigger on his massive body.He seemed to be gradually weakening with anxiety.He often begged, "Let me do something!" Finally, Holmes finally agreed to his request. "He's started jewelry. Now we should get him." "Does this mean that something has happened to Lady Frances?" Holmes shook his head very gravely. "Maybe she's in custody now. Clearly, let her go and they're going to kill themselves. We've got to be prepared for the worst that could happen." "What can I do?" "Those people don't recognize you, do they?" "can not recognize." "He might go to another pawn shop in the future. In that case, we'd have to start all over again. On the other hand, he got a fair price and no questions asked of him, so if he needs cash urgently, He might go to the Bovington pawn shop. I'll write a note, you give it to them, and they'll let you wait in the store. If this guy comes, you keep an eye on him, follow him to the place where he lives. place. Don’t be reckless, especially not to use force. You have to promise me that you are not allowed to act at will without my notice and permission.” For two days, the Honorable Philip Green (who, I should mention, was the son of a famous admiral who commanded the Azov Sea Fleet in the Crimean War) did not bring us Come any news.On the third night he burst into our living room, pale and trembling, every muscle in his powerful body quivering with excitement. "We've found him! We've found him!" he shouted. He was so excited that he couldn't even speak coherently.Holmes said a few words of comfort to him, and pushed him into a chair and sat down. "Come on, tell us now from beginning to end," he said. "She came an hour ago. This time it was his wife, but the earring she brought was the other of a pair. She was a tall, pale woman with mouse eyes. " "It is the woman," said Holmes. "She left the shop. I followed her. She walked up the Kensington Road, and I followed her. She went into a shop. Mr. Holmes, it is an undertaker's shop." My companion froze. "Really?" His voice trembled when he asked, indicating that behind the calm and pale face was the inner anxiety. "She was talking to a woman at the counter when I went in. I thought I heard her say 'it's late' or something like that. The woman in the store was explaining why. 'It should have been delivered,' she said. They replied. 'It took longer, it was different from normal.' They stopped talking and looked at me. I had to ask a few words and left the shop." "You did a great job. What happened next?" "She came out of the shop, and I ducked into a doorway. Perhaps her suspicions had been aroused, for she looked round. Then she called a carriage and got in. Fortunately I called a carriage and followed her. Back. She got off at 36 Botney Square, Briston. I drove past the gate, parked on the corner of the square, and watched the house." "Did you see anyone?" "It was pitch black except for one window on the ground floor. The shutters were drawn and I couldn't see inside. I stood there not knowing what to do next. Then a covered van drove up with two people in it. A man. The two men alighted, took something from the van, and carried it up to the gate steps. Mr. Holmes, it was a coffin." "what!" "I was about to rush in. Just then the door was opened and the two men were carrying the coffin in. It was the woman who opened the door. I stood there and she glanced at me and seemed to recognize me. I saw her startled, and hurriedly closed the door. I remembered what you told me, so I came here." "You have done an excellent job," said Holmes, writing a few words on half a slip of paper. "Without a search warrant, our operation is not legal. You'd better do this kind of thing. You take this note to the police station and get a search warrant. It may be difficult, but I want to sell jewelry." A little will suffice. Lestrade will consider every detail." "But they might kill her right now. What's the coffin for? If not for her, or for whom?" "We shall do our best, Mr. Green. There shall not be a moment's delay. Leave the matter to us. Now, Watson," continued Holmes, as our client hurried away, "Lestrade Regular personnel will be mobilized. We, as usual, are irregular. We must take our own action. The urgency of the situation compels me to resort to the most extreme measures, which are justifiable. Go to Porter at once. Ni square, don't delay for a moment." "Let us analyze the situation again," he said, as our carriage sped past the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge. "These rascals, who first drove Lady Frances away from her faithful maid, have now tricked the unfortunate lady into London. If she had written, they too have seized them. Through their accomplices, they have rented a house. Furnished house. They shut her up as soon as they moved in. And they've got this valuable jewellery. That's what they were trying to get at the beginning. They've started selling some of it. In their view It's safe enough to come, because it doesn't occur to them that anyone cares about the lady's fate. Let her go, and of course she'll denounce them. So never let her go. They can't keep her locked up forever, though. So the only way is to murder." "It seems clear." "Now let us consider it from another thread. When you consider the problem along two separate lines of thought, Watson, you will find that a certain point of convergence of the two lines will approach the real situation. Let us now proceed from the coffin, instead of the lady, and proceed backwards. This accident proves, I fear, that the lady is undoubtedly dead, and at the same time it is stated that she is to be buried according to the custom, with an official medical certificate , with a formal approval process. If the lady was clearly murdered, they would have buried her in a pit in the back garden. But now it's all done in the open and formal. What does that mean? Needless to say Well, they killed her in some other way, by deceiving the doctor, pretending to be a natural death from a disease--perhaps poisoned. But, it is also very strange, how they let the doctor approach her, unless the doctor It is their accomplice. But this assumption is not reliable." "Will they forge a doctor's certificate?" "Dangerous, Watson, very dangerous. No, I don't think they'll do that. Stop, coachman! We've passed the pawn shop, which is obviously the funeral shop. Would you go in, Watson?" Health? You'd be more reliable if you came forward. Ask what time the funeral of the family in Botany Square is to-morrow." The woman in the store told me without hesitation that it would be at eight o'clock in the morning. "You see, Watson, there is no mystery, everything is public! They have undoubtedly obtained the legal forms, so they are not afraid. Well, there is no other way now but to attack directly from the front. Are you armed?" ?” "My cane!" "Well, well, we are strong enough. 'Adequately armed, the struggle is victorious.' We must not wait for the police, nor allow the law to confine us. You may go, Coachman. Together, Watson, we will With luck, like the two of us used to work together." He rang hard on the doorbell of a dark mansion in the center of Botany Square.The door opened instantly, and a tall woman appeared in the dim light of the hall. "What are you doing?" she snapped, peering at us through the darkness. "I will speak to Dr. Schlesinger," said Holmes. "There's no one here," she said before closing the door.Holmes put his foot against the door. "I want to meet the man who lives here, whatever he may call himself," said Holmes firmly. She hesitated, then opened the door. "Oh, come in then!" she said. "My husband isn't afraid to meet anyone in the world." She closed the door behind her, ushered us into a living room on the right side of the hall, turned on the gas lights, and left. "Mr. Peters will be here in a moment," she said. Her words were true.We hadn't had time to survey the dusty, dilapidated room when the door opened.A tall, clean-shaven, bald man entered softly.He had a big red face, drooping cheeks, and a dignified appearance.But the murderous and sinister mouth spoiled his demeanor. "There must be some misunderstanding here, gentlemen," he said in a greasy, self-possessed tone, "I think you're in the wrong place. If you go down the street and ask maybe—" "That is all right, but we have no time to waste," said my companion firmly. "You are Henry Peters of Adelaide, later called Dr. Schlesinger, Reverend of Baden and South America. I am as sure of that as I am of my name being Sherlock Holmes. " Startled, the man I will now call Peters stared hard at his formidable stalker. "I see that your name does not frighten me, Mr. Holmes," said he, indifferently. "You cannot make a man angry so long as he is at peace. What is your business in my house?" "I want to know what you have done with Lady Frances Carfax, whom you brought here from Baden." "I should be very glad if you could tell me where this lady is," replied Peters indifferently. "And she owed me a bill, nearly a hundred pounds, and gave me nothing but a pair of ostentatious earrings, which the merchants disdain. She was at Baden with Mrs. Peters and me. Together—I used a different name at the time, it is true—she was reluctant to leave us, and followed us to London. I settled the bill and paid the ticket for her. But as soon as we arrived in London, she slipped away, and, staying These outdated jewels pay off the debt. I am grateful that you found her, Mr. Holmes." "I am looking for her," said Sherlock Holmes. "I'll find her by searching the house." "Where's your search warrant?" Holmes drew half the pistol from his pocket. "This is the search warrant until a better one arrives." "Why, you are a usual robber." "You may call me that," said Holmes cheerfully. "My companion is also a dangerous thug. Together we shall search your house." Our opponents opened the door. "Go get a policeman, Anne!" he said.There was a sound of running women's dresses in the passage, and the hall door opened and closed again. "Our time is limited, Watson," said Holmes. "If you try to stop us, Peters, you're going to suffer. Where's the coffin that's been brought in?" "What do you want a coffin for? It's in use. There's a body in it." "I must examine the body." "Without my consent, absolutely not." "You don't need to agree." Holmes moved quickly, pushed the guy aside at once, and walked into the hall.A half-open door loomed before us.我们进去了。这是餐室。棺材停放在一张桌子上，上面有一盏半亮的吊灯。福尔摩斯把灯扭大，打开棺盖。棺内深处躺着一具瘦小的尸体。头顶上的灯光射下来，照见的是一张干瘪的老年人的面孔。即使是受尽虐待、受尽饥饿和疾病的摧残，这个枯瘦不堪的人体也不可能是依然非常美丽的弗朗西丝女士。福尔摩斯显得又惊又喜。 “谢天谢天！”他说，“这是另外一个人。” “啊，你可犯了一个大错误啦，歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生，”彼特斯说道。他已经跟随我们进屋来了。 “这个死了的女人是谁？” “唔，如果你真想知道，她是我妻子的老保姆。她叫罗丝·斯彭德，是我们在布里克斯顿救济院附属诊所里发现的。我们把她搬到这里来，请来了费班克别墅13号的霍森医生——福尔摩斯先生，这个地址，你可听清喽——细心照料她，以尽基督教友应尽之责。第三天，她就死了——医生证明书上说是年老体衰而死——这是医生的看法，你当然更明白。我们叫肯辛顿路的斯梯姆森公司办理后事。明天早上八点钟安葬。这里面，你能挑出什么漏洞吗，福尔摩斯先生？你犯了一个可笑的错误，这一点你还是老实承认的好。你打开棺盖，本想看见弗朗西丝·卡法克斯女士，结果却发现一个九十岁的可怜的老太婆。要是把你那种目瞪口呆的惊讶神态用相机拍下来，我倒是很欣赏的。” 在他的仇敌的嘲弄下，福尔摩斯的表情象往常一样冷漠。可是他那紧握的双手表露出他的怒不可遏。 “我要搜查你的房子，”他说。 “你还要搜！”彼特斯喊道。这时，传来一个女人的声音和过道上沉重的脚步声。“我们马上就可以明白谁是谁非。请到这边来，警官们。这两个人闯进我家里。我无法叫他们离开。帮我把他们赶出去吧。” 一名警官和一名警察站在过道上。福尔摩斯出示了名片。 “这是我的姓名和地址。这是我的朋友，华生医生。” “哎呀，先生，久仰了，”警官说，“可是没有搜捕证，你不能呆在这儿。” “当然不能。这个，我十分清楚。” “逮捕他！”彼特斯嚷道。 “如果需要，我们是知道如何下手的，”警官威严地说，“可是你得离开这儿，福尔摩斯先生。” “对，华生，我们是得离开这儿啦。” 过了一会儿，我们又到了街上。福尔摩斯一如既住，满不在乎，而我却又怒又恼，憋了一肚子火。警官跟在我们后面。 “对不起，福尔摩斯先生，但是，法律如此。” “对，警长，你也没有别的办法。” “我想你到这儿来，一定有道理。如果有什么事我可以——” “是一位失踪的女士，警长。我们认为她就在这个房子里。我在等待搜查证，马上就到。” “那么我来监视他们，福尔摩斯先生。有什么动静，我一定告诉你。” 这时还只有九点钟。我们立刻出发全力去追查线索。首先我们来到布里克斯顿救济院。在那里我们得悉，前几天确有一对慈善夫妇来过。他们声称一个呆头呆脑的老太婆是他们以前的仆人，并且得到允许把她领走。救济院的人听到她去了以后就死了的消息时，没有表示惊异。 第二个目标是那位医生。他曾被召请前住，发现那个女人极度衰老，并且确实看见她死去，因此在正式的诊断书上签了字。“我向你们保证，一切正常，在这件事上，是钻不了空子的，”他说。屋子里也没有什么足以使他怀疑的，只是象他们那样的人家竟然没有用人，这倒是值得注意的。医生提供的情况到此为止，再没有别的了。 最后，我们去到苏格兰场。开搜查证，手续有困难，不能不耽搁。治安官的签字要在第二天才能取到。如果福尔摩斯能在九点左右去拜访，他就可以同雷斯垂德一起去办好搜查证。这一天就这样过去了。我们的那位警长朋友在快到半夜的时候却来告诉我们，他看见那座黑暗的大住宅的窗口里，忽此忽彼有灯光闪烁，但是没有人从里面出来，也没有人进去。我们则只好耐着性子等待明天的到来。 歇洛克·福尔摩斯十分急躁，不想说话，而且坐立不安，无法睡觉。我走开了。他猛吸着烟斗，紧锁双眉，神经质的修长手指在椅臂上敲打。这时，解答这一奥秘的办法可能正在他脑海里翻腾。整个晚上，我听见他在屋里徘徊。最后，在我清晨刚被叫醒时，他就冲进了我的房间。他穿着睡衣，但是他那苍白的脸色和深陷的眼睛告诉我他整夜没有睡。 “什么时间安葬？八点钟，是不是？”他急切地问道，“唔，现在七点半。天哪，华生，上帝赐给我的头脑是怎么啦？快，老兄，快！生死攸关——九死一生。要是去晚了，我永远也不会饶恕自己的，永远！” 不到五分钟，我们已经坐上马车离开贝克街飞驰而去。即使这样，我们经过毕格本钟楼时已是差二十五分八点了，及至赶到布里克斯顿路，正敲八点钟。不过，对方和我们一样，也晚了。八点过十分了，柩车仍然停靠在门边。正当我们的跑得满嘴口沫的马匹停下步来时，三个人抬着棺材出现在门口。福尔摩斯一个箭步上前拦住了他们的去路。 “抬回去！”他命令道，一只手按在最前面抬棺材的人的胸前。“马上抬回去！” “你他妈干什么？我再问你一回，你的搜查证在哪儿？”彼特斯气势汹汹地直嚷，那张大红脸直向着棺材的那一头瞧着。 “搜查证马上就到。棺材抬到屋里去，等搜查证来。” 福尔摩斯的威严声调对抬棺材的人起了作用，彼特斯已经突然溜进屋里去了，他们就遵从了这些新的命令。“快，华生，快！这是螺丝起子！”当棺材放到桌上时，他喊道。“老兄，这一把给你！一分钟之内打开棺盖，赏金币一镑！别问啦——快干！很好！另一个！再一个！现在一起使劲！快开了！唔，开了。” 我们一起使劲打开了棺盖。掀开棺盖时，棺内冲出一股强烈的使人昏迷的氯仿气味。棺内躺着一个躯体，头部缠着浸过麻药的纱布。福尔摩斯取去纱布，露出一个中年妇女的脸庞，美丽而高尚，象塑像一般。他立即伸臂把她扶着坐了起来。 “她死了没有，华生？还有气息吗？我们肯定来得不算晚！” 半个小时过去了，看来我们是来得太晚了。由于窒息，由于氯仿有毒的气味，弗朗西丝女士似乎已经完全不省人事。最后，我们进行了人工呼吸，注射乙醚，用尽了各种科学办法。一丝生命的颤动，眼睑抽搐了，眼睛露出了一点微弱的光泽，这一切说明生命在慢慢恢复。一辆马车赶到了，福尔摩斯推开百叶窗向外望去。“雷斯垂德带着搜查证来了，”他说。“他会发现他要抓的人已经逃走。不过，还有一个人来了，”当过道上传来沉重而急促的脚步声时，他接着说，“这个人比我们更有权利照顾这位女士。早上好，格林先生，我看我们得把弗朗西丝女士送走，越快越好。同时葬礼可以举行了。那个仍然躺在棺材里的可怜的老太婆可以独自到她最后安息的地方去了。” “亲爱的华生，如果你愿意把这件案子也写进你的记录本里去，”那天晚上福尔摩斯说，“也只能把它看作一个暂时受蒙蔽的例子，那是即使最善于斟酌的头脑也在所难免的。这种过失一般人都会犯，难得的是能够认识到并加以补救。对于这次已经得到挽救的声誉，我还想作些表白。那天晚上，我被一种想法纠缠住了。我想，我曾经注意到在什么地方发现过一点线索，一句奇怪的话，一种可疑的现象，可是我都轻易地放过了。后来，天刚亮的时候，我突然想起几句话来，就是格林向我报告过的丧葬店女老板说的话。她说过'早就该送去的。时间得长一些，和一般的不一样'。她说的就是棺材。它和一般的不一样。这只能是指，棺材要按照特殊的尺寸来做。可是为什么？为什么呢？我一下想起来了：棺材那么深，装的却只是一个小小的无关的人。为什么用那么大的棺材去装那么小的尸体呢？为的是腾出地方来再放上一具尸体。利用同一张证明书埋葬两具尸体。如果我的视野不是被蒙蔽了，这一切原都是很清楚的。八点钟就要安葬弗朗西丝女士。我们唯一的机会就是在棺材搬走之前把他们截住。 “可能会发现她还活着，这是一次渺茫的机会，但结果表明，这毕竟是一次机会。据我所知，这些人从来不干杀人的事。直到最后关头，他们也避免使用真正的暴力。他们把她葬了，可以不露出她的死因的任何痕迹。即使把她从地里挖出来，他们也还是有机会逃脱的。我希望这样的想法能使他们接受。你可以再好好回想一下当时的情景，楼上的那间小屋，你看见了，这位可怜的女士就是长期被关在这里面的。他们冲进去用氯仿捂着她的嘴，把她抬进棺材，又把氯仿倒进倌材，使她醒不了，然后钉上棺盖。这个办法倒很聪明，华生。在犯罪史上我还是头一次见到。如果我们的前任传教士朋友们从雷斯垂德手里逃脱，那么，他们日后还是会演出精采节目的。”