If one wants to describe the murder of Professor Grimaud, and the equally unimaginable subsequent incident in Cagli Straw Street, there are too many mysterious words that can be used reasonably; They could never find a more incomprehensible, more horrifying case in the Doctor's casebook.Because of the murder methods of these two murders, it shows that the murderer not only has to come and go without a trace, but also has to be light-hearted to be possible.According to the evidence at the scene, the murderer disappeared out of thin air after killing the first victim; then another scene evidence showed that the murderer killed the second victim in the middle of an open road with people present at both ends of the street. This time, let alone the murderer, no one saw him, not even his footprints on the snow.

Of course, Chief Detective Hadley never believed in goblins or witchcraft.Mostly he's right, unless you've always believed in magic—and in due course this story will explain it to you.However, some people began to doubt, they thought that the mysterious strange person that existed in the whole case was probably an empty shell; There may be nothing under it, just like in a famous novel by Wells (HG Wells, 1866-1946, British science fiction novelist and socialist pioneer, author of "The Invisible Man", "Time Machine", etc.) man.All in all, this character is scary enough.

In this story, the words "indicated by the evidence" will appear again and again.However, when evidence is presented that is not first-hand, it must be viewed with great caution.Regarding this case, in order to avoid unhelpful confusion, readers must be told whose testimony can be fully believed at the beginning, that is to say, "someone's statement is the truth" is a prerequisite that must be set—otherwise, it is reasonable. Not only does his mystery novel not exist, but there is no need to tell this story any more. Therefore, I would like to declare here at the outset that Mr. Stuart Mills never lied at Professor Grimaud's house. He didn't ignore anything, and he didn't add any details. He just stated exactly what he saw and heard in the whole case.It must also be emphasized that the events described by the three unconnected witnesses in the Calgary Straw Street case (Mr Shorter, Mr Brewin, and Constable Weser) are also consistent with The truth is not bad at all.

In such a case, an important event connected with the murder must be stated as fully as possible in this retrospective.It's a key, a stimulus, and a challenge.It recurs in Dr. Phil's notes, and is very well documented, verbatim, as reported by Stu Mills to Dr. Phil and Chief Criminal Hadley, three years before the murder. That day, that is, the night of Wednesday, February 6, in the back room of Warwick's Tavern on Museum Street. Professor Charles Warney Grimaud has lived in the UK for nearly thirty years, and he speaks a pure British accent, except for some rude behavior when he is emotional, and he likes to wear old-fashioned bowler hats and black thin bow ties Besides, Professor Grimaud is even more English than his English friends.No one knows the background of the professor's early life.His personal fortune was sufficient to support him, but he preferred to work and earn a lot of money.Professor Grimaud has been a teacher, and is also a well-known speaker and writer.But in recent years, he has no longer engaged in related work, but spends his days as a volunteer with unknown authority in the British Museum, in order to freely read some manuscripts that he calls "little magic".So-called minor magic has long been a fascination for professors, as long as it is realistic, supernatural magic, from vampire legends to the Black Mass, a sacrilegious parody of the Catholic Mass. It is performed with deliberately distorted terminology and doctrine, worshiping not God but Satan), he was all interested.As he pored over the manuscript, he nodded and giggled like a child—with the pain of a bullet through his lungs.

Grimaud's mind is very normal, and his eyes are always shining with strange brilliance.He spoke extremely fast, his voice was rough and harsh, as if it was cracking from the depths of his throat; in addition, he often had the habit of closing his teeth and chuckling.He was of medium height, but with a strong chest and plenty of vigor.Those around the museum are familiar with his physical features: the tightly trimmed black beard, rimmed glasses, straight gait when he sprints in short steps, and the sloppy salute of his hat when he greets people, or Use an umbrella to make a hand-flag gesture.

Professor Grimaud lived in some solid old house near the west end of Russell Square.His daughter Rosette, the housekeeper Mrs. Dumo, the secretary Stu Mills, and the retired teacher Dreyman who is out of shape also live in the house-Grimaud provides him with food and lodging, and lets him take care of the family. collection of books. However, if you really want to find Grimaud's few friends, you have to go to Warwick's Tavern in Museum Street, where there is a club where they meet.The group met four or five times a week at the tavern, a sort of informal, private gathering, always in a comfortable suite in the back hall reserved especially for them.Although the room was not a private suite, few outside members entered the tavern by mistake;The party's regular attendees include the fastidious little bald Pettis, an authority on ghost stories; the journalist Mangan, the artist Burnaby, but the leader of the party is undoubtedly Professor Grimaud.

The professor is in charge.Almost every night of the year (Saturdays and Sundays were reserved for work), Grimaud would go to the Warwick Tavern with Stu Mills.He would sit on his favorite armrest vine, sip a glass of mulled wine in front of a blazing fire, and deliver his opinions in a loving and authoritative way.Mills said the opinions, while occasionally sparking debate from Pettis or Burnaby, were usually well-articulated and wise.The professor's attitude is always courteous and kind, but in his bones he is hot-tempered.In general, the professor's learned knowledge of witchcraft or false witchcraft--especially the deceitful tricks that deceive honest people--is listened to with great enthusiasm; the professor has a childlike love of the mysterious and the dramatic, Whenever a medieval witchcraft story ends, it often solves the mystery in the form of contemporary mystery novels without boundaries.Although everyone gathered behind the gas street lamps in Bloomsbury (the area on the north bank of the River Thames in London, which was an important cultural and artistic center in Britain in the early 20th century), the scene still had the charm of a country tavern. All enjoy it.In this way, they spent many happy evenings.However, on the night of February 6, a sudden night wind opened the door, heralding some terrible omen, and after that, the situation was not the same as before.

Mills said the wind was quite strong that night, and there was a hint of snow in the air.Besides himself and Grimaud there were Pettis, Mangan, and Burnaby, all huddled close to the fire.At that time, Professor Grimaud was gesticulating with a cigar and talking endlessly about vampire legends. "Frankly, what I'm confused about," Pettis said, "is your mentality. Personally, I just study novels, which are ghost stories that never happened; and to some extent , I believe there are ghosts. But you have always worked hard and specialized in things that can withstand verification (we are all compelled to call them 'facts' unless they can be disproved), but these studies you have worked on all your life. I don’t believe it. This is like an article written by George Bradshaw (George Bradshaw, a British printer in the early 19th century who published a national train timetable in 1839 and ceased publication in 1961) arguing that steam trains are impossible. or the editor of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, stating in the Introduction that none of the entries in the book are credible."

"And why not?" Grimaud spat out his trademark short growl, barely opening his mouth. "That's a lot of moral courage, don't you think?" "He must have read too much and lost his mind," said Burnaby. Grimaud stared silently at the stove.Mills said at the time the professor seemed more annoyed than mocked.He sat stiffly with his cigar in the middle of his lips like a child sucking on a peppermint lollipop. "I have read too many things," he said after a pause, "however, it does not mean that a person who serves as a temple priest must be a devout believer. However, this is not the point. I always feel that What is interesting is the cause behind the superstition. How did the superstition come about? What is the cause that makes the deceived people so convinced? Take for example the legend of the vampire we are talking about! It is a superstition, isn't it? It was introduced from Hungary between 1730 and 1735, then spread like a gust of wind, and finally took root in Europe. Well, how did the Hungarians prove that the dead Can you get out of the coffin, turn into straw or fluff and float in the air, and finally take the opportunity to turn into a human form to do evil?"

"Is there such evidence?" asked Burnaby. Grimaud shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly. "They dug up corpses from churchyards, some in distorted positions, with blood on their faces, hands, and shrouds. That was their evidence. What's so strange about that? It was a plague-ridden country. O times! Think of those poor souls who are buried with no cure and forced to live, think of their struggle to escape from their coffins before they die. Do you understand, gentlemen? This is the cause behind my so-called superstition. Because, that's what interests me." "I am also deeply interested in this." A strange voice sounded.

Mills said that although he vaguely felt the door was opened and a gust of air came in, he never heard the person's footsteps entering the room.It is likely that they were momentarily startled by this uninvited stranger, because few outsiders break in here, let alone make a sound; or because the person's voice is too harsh, hoarse, and He had a slight foreign accent, and his tone was smug and unkind, as if he was here to report bad news.In short, his unexpected appearance made everyone feel up and down and uneasy for a while. Mills added that the man seemed unremarkable.He stood far away from the fire, wearing a ragged black coat with the collar turned up, a scruffy soft hat with the brim hanging limply, and the only part of his face was covered by the glove he was touching his chin. So no one can see his face.So besides being tall, ill-dressed, and thin, Mills couldn't say anything about the man.However, judging from his voice, demeanor, or some of his habitual movements, he has a vaguely familiar exotic flavor. He spoke again, with a stubborn and pedantic tone in his voice, which seemed to be imitating Grimaud in a playful way. "Gentlemen, please forgive me," he said, again with a smug tone, "for interrupting your conversation, I just have a question, and I would like to ask the famous Professor Grimaud." No one thought of berating him at the time, Mills said, and everyone listened intently.That man had a chilling power that made people tremble, which destroyed the original warm and quiet comfort in the room.Even Grimaud, who is gloomy and fierce, sitting still like Epstein's works (Epstein, Sir Jacob Epstein, 1880-1959, a British sculptor, is good at shaping the bronze heads of celebrities and children, several of his statues Symbolist sculptures, accused of being blasphemy and indecent), he was also very focused at that moment, the cigar between his fingers froze in mid-air as it was sent to his mouth, his eyes flickered behind thin-rimmed glasses, his only The response was to shout: "Oh?" "Don't you believe it," said the man, the glove covering his chin removed by just one finger, "that a man can crawl out of his own coffin and walk around invisibly, ignoring walls The existence of the barrier, let alone the demonic destructive power?" "I don't believe it," replied Grimaud sharply; "do you?" "Yes, I believe, I have this ability! And I have a brother, who is higher and deeper than me, he is a deep threat to you. I have no interest in your life, but he is not. If Someday he will visit you..." The climax of this frenzied conversation ended abruptly like the last crackle in a furnace—the ex-football player Mangan jumped to his feet, and Shorty Pettis looked nervously around. "Hey, Grimaud," said Pettis, "this guy's crazy. Shall I—" He gestured awkwardly in the direction of the bell, but the stranger interrupted him. "Let's see what Professor Grimaud said first," said the stranger, "don't act rashly." Grimaud watched him with a deep and intense contempt in his eyes. "No, no, no! Did you hear what I said? Don't get in his way, let him finish talking about his brothers and his coffins..." "Three coffins." The stranger interrupted. "Just three coffins," Grimaud agreed obediently. "You can say as much as you want, my God! Now, can you tell us who you are?" The stranger stretched out his left hand from his pocket, and placed a filthy and dirty card on the table.Seeing this unremarkable business card seemed to make everyone regain their sanity a little bit, and immediately dismissed the previous doubts like a joke, thinking that the visitor with the rough voice was just a downcast with a bee hidden in a dirty hat Actor—because Mills read the words on the card: "Pierre Frey, the Magician."The card also read "WC1. 2B Cagry Straw Street" in the corner, with "Or to the Academy Theatre" scrawled above it.Grimaud laughed, while Pettis cursed and rang the bell for the waiter. "That's right," said Grimaud, tapping his thumb on the card on the table. "I knew it was going to happen. Are you a juggler?" "Is that what it says on the business card?" "Hey, hey, I'm sorry if that name degrades your level." Grimaud nodded in response, with a smile swishing in his nostrils, "It's probably not convenient for you to play a trick for us Let's see?" "With pleasure," said Foyle unexpectedly. His skill is so fast that people are caught off guard.The nimble movements seemed to make an attack, but in fact they didn't make a move at all.He bent towards Grimaud and walked around the table, and before everyone had a chance to take a look, his gloved hand had pulled down the collar of his coat and returned to his original shape.But Mills felt that he had grinned.Grimaud is still expressionless and serious, but his lower jaw is slightly raised, so the mouth on the short beard looks like a half-curved disdain.His thumb was still tapping the card, but his face grew darker and more gloomy. "Before I leave," said Foyle abruptly, "one last question for our Grand Professor. You will soon be visited by someone one evening. Once my brother and I join forces , my life is also in danger, but I am ready to take the risk. I repeat, you are about to be visited. Do you want me—or my brother?" "Tell your brother to come here," growled Grimaud, "and die!" After Foyle suddenly closed the door and left, the few people broke the deadlock and began to discuss.And this tightly closed door has since then deeply concealed the most important facts of the weekend night events on February 9th.The other sporadic flashes of clues were not solved like a puzzle until Dr. Phil combined the burnt black fragments between the thin glass sheets.The fatal first step of the illusory man came on the night of February 9, when snow fell and filled the silent lanes of London, and the three prophesied coffins were filled one by one.