الفصل الفصل 13 · Part II - A Continuation Of The Reminiscences Of John Watson, M.D.

. Part II - A Continuation Of The Reminiscences Of John Watson, M.D.

Our prisoner’s furious resistance did not apparently indicate any

ferocity in his disposition towards ourselves, for on finding himself

powerless, he smiled in an affable manner, and expressed his hopes that

he had not hurt any of us in the scuffle. “I guess you’re going to take

me to the police-station,” he remarked to Sherlock Holmes. “My cab’s at

the door. If you’ll loose my legs I’ll walk down to it. I’m not so

light to lift as I used to be.”

Gregson and Lestrade exchanged glances as if they thought this

proposition rather a bold one; but Holmes at once took the prisoner at

his word, and loosened the towel which we had bound round his ankles.

He rose and stretched his legs, as though to assure himself that they

were free once more. I remember that I thought to myself, as I eyed

him, that I had seldom seen a more powerfully built man; and his dark

sunburned face bore an expression of determination and energy which was

as formidable as his personal strength.

“If there’s a vacant place for a chief of the police, I reckon you are

the man for it,” he said, gazing with undisguised admiration at my

fellow-lodger. “The way you kept on my trail was a caution.”

“You had better come with me,” said Holmes to the two detectives.

“I can drive you,” said Lestrade.

“Good! and Gregson can come inside with me. You too, Doctor, you have

taken an interest in the case and may as well stick to us.”

I assented gladly, and we all descended together. Our prisoner made no

attempt at escape, but stepped calmly into the cab which had been his,

and we followed him. Lestrade mounted the box, whipped up the horse,

and brought us in a very short time to our destination. We were ushered

into a small chamber where a police Inspector noted down our prisoner’s

name and the names of the men with whose murder he had been charged.

The official was a white-faced unemotional man, who went through his

duties in a dull mechanical way. “The prisoner will be put before the

magistrates in the course of the week,” he said; “in the mean time, Mr.

Jefferson Hope, have you anything that you wish to say? I must warn you

that your words will be taken down, and may be used against you.”

“I’ve got a good deal to say,” our prisoner said slowly. “I want to

tell you gentlemen all about it.”

“Hadn’t you better reserve that for your trial?” asked the Inspector.

“I may never be tried,” he answered. “You needn’t look startled. It

isn’t suicide I am thinking of. Are you a Doctor?” He turned his fierce

dark eyes upon me as he asked this last question.

“Yes; I am,” I answered.

“Then put your hand here,” he said, with a smile, motioning with his

manacled wrists towards his chest.

I did so; and became at once conscious of an extraordinary throbbing

and commotion which was going on inside. The walls of his chest seemed

to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some

powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear a

dull humming and buzzing noise which proceeded from the same source.

“Why,” I cried, “you have an aortic aneurism!”

“That’s what they call it,” he said, placidly. “I went to a doctor last

week about it, and he told me that it is bound to burst before many

days passed. It has been getting worse for years. I got it from

over-exposure and under-feeding among the Salt Lake Mountains. I’ve

done my work now, and I don’t care how soon I go, but I should like to

leave some account of the business behind me. I don’t want to be

remembered as a common cut-throat.”

The Inspector and the two detectives had a hurried discussion as to the

advisability of allowing him to tell his story.

“Do you consider, Doctor, that there is immediate danger?” the former

asked.

“Most certainly there is,” I answered.

“In that case it is clearly our duty, in the interests of justice, to

take his statement,” said the Inspector. “You are at liberty, sir, to

give your account, which I again warn you will be taken down.”

“I’ll sit down, with your leave,” the prisoner said, suiting the action

to the word. “This aneurism of mine makes me easily tired, and the

tussle we had half an hour ago has not mended matters. I’m on the brink

of the grave, and I am not likely to lie to you. Every word I say is

the absolute truth, and how you use it is a matter of no consequence to

me.”

With these words, Jefferson Hope leaned back in his chair and began the

following remarkable statement. He spoke in a calm and methodical

manner, as though the events which he narrated were commonplace enough.

I can vouch for the accuracy of the subjoined account, for I have had

access to Lestrade’s note-book, in which the prisoner’s words were

taken down exactly as they were uttered.

“It don’t much matter to you why I hated these men,” he said; “it’s

enough that they were guilty of the death of two human beings—a father

and a daughter—and that they had, therefore, forfeited their own lives.

After the lapse of time that has passed since their crime, it was

impossible for me to secure a conviction against them in any court. I

knew of their guilt though, and I determined that I should be judge,

jury, and executioner all rolled into one. You’d have done the same, if

you have any manhood in you, if you had been in my place.

“That girl that I spoke of was to have married me twenty years ago. She

was forced into marrying that same Drebber, and broke her heart over

it. I took the marriage ring from her dead finger, and I vowed that his

dying eyes should rest upon that very ring, and that his last thoughts

should be of the crime for which he was punished. I have carried it

about with me, and have followed him and his accomplice over two

continents until I caught them. They thought to tire me out, but they

could not do it. If I die to-morrow, as is likely enough, I die knowing

that my work in this world is done, and well done. They have perished,

and by my hand. There is nothing left for me to hope for, or to desire.

“They were rich and I was poor, so that it was no easy matter for me to

follow them. When I got to London my pocket was about empty, and I

found that I must turn my hand to something for my living. Driving and

riding are as natural to me as walking, so I applied at a cabowner’s

office, and soon got employment. I was to bring a certain sum a week to

the owner, and whatever was over that I might keep for myself. There

was seldom much over, but I managed to scrape along somehow. The

hardest job was to learn my way about, for I reckon that of all the

mazes that ever were contrived, this city is the most confusing. I had

a map beside me though, and when once I had spotted the principal

hotels and stations, I got on pretty well.

“It was some time before I found out where my two gentlemen were

living; but I inquired and inquired until at last I dropped across

them. They were at a boarding-house at Camberwell, over on the other

side of the river. When once I found them out I knew that I had them at

my mercy. I had grown my beard, and there was no chance of their

recognizing me. I would dog them and follow them until I saw my

opportunity. I was determined that they should not escape me again.

“They were very near doing it for all that. Go where they would about

London, I was always at their heels. Sometimes I followed them on my

cab, and sometimes on foot, but the former was the best, for then they

could not get away from me. It was only early in the morning or late at

night that I could earn anything, so that I began to get behindhand

with my employer. I did not mind that, however, as long as I could lay

my hand upon the men I wanted.

“They were very cunning, though. They must have thought that there was

some chance of their being followed, for they would never go out alone,

and never after nightfall. During two weeks I drove behind them every

day, and never once saw them separate. Drebber himself was drunk half

the time, but Stangerson was not to be caught napping. I watched them

late and early, but never saw the ghost of a chance; but I was not

discouraged, for something told me that the hour had almost come. My

only fear was that this thing in my chest might burst a little too soon

and leave my work undone.

“At last, one evening I was driving up and down Torquay Terrace, as the

street was called in which they boarded, when I saw a cab drive up to

their door. Presently some luggage was brought out, and after a time

Drebber and Stangerson followed it, and drove off. I whipped up my

horse and kept within sight of them, feeling very ill at ease, for I

feared that they were going to shift their quarters. At Euston Station

they got out, and I left a boy to hold my horse, and followed them on

to the platform. I heard them ask for the Liverpool train, and the

guard answer that one had just gone and there would not be another for

some hours. Stangerson seemed to be put out at that, but Drebber was

rather pleased than otherwise. I got so close to them in the bustle

that I could hear every word that passed between them. Drebber said

that he had a little business of his own to do, and that if the other

would wait for him he would soon rejoin him. His companion remonstrated

with him, and reminded him that they had resolved to stick together.

Drebber answered that the matter was a delicate one, and that he must

go alone. I could not catch what Stangerson said to that, but the other

burst out swearing, and reminded him that he was nothing more than his

paid servant, and that he must not presume to dictate to him. On that

the Secretary gave it up as a bad job, and simply bargained with him

that if he missed the last train he should rejoin him at Halliday’s

Private Hotel; to which Drebber answered that he would be back on the

platform before eleven, and made his way out of the station.

“The moment for which I had waited so long had at last come. I had my

enemies within my power. Together they could protect each other, but

singly they were at my mercy. I did not act, however, with undue

precipitation. My plans were already formed. There is no satisfaction

in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that

strikes him, and why retribution has come upon him. I had my plans

arranged by which I should have the opportunity of making the man who

had wronged me understand that his old sin had found him out. It

chanced that some days before a gentleman who had been engaged in

looking over some houses in the Brixton Road had dropped the key of one

of them in my carriage. It was claimed that same evening, and returned;

but in the interval I had taken a moulding of it, and had a duplicate

constructed. By means of this I had access to at least one spot in this

great city where I could rely upon being free from interruption. How to

get Drebber to that house was the difficult problem which I had now to

solve.

“He walked down the road and went into one or two liquor shops, staying

for nearly half-an-hour in the last of them. When he came out he

staggered in his walk, and was evidently pretty well on. There was a

hansom just in front of me, and he hailed it. I followed it so close

that the nose of my horse was within a yard of his driver the whole

way. We rattled across Waterloo Bridge and through miles of streets,

until, to my astonishment, we found ourselves back in the Terrace in

which he had boarded. I could not imagine what his intention was in

returning there; but I went on and pulled up my cab a hundred yards or

so from the house. He entered it, and his hansom drove away. Give me a

glass of water, if you please. My mouth gets dry with the talking.”

I handed him the glass, and he drank it down.

“That’s better,” he said. “Well, I waited for a quarter of an hour, or

more, when suddenly there came a noise like people struggling inside

the house. Next moment the door was flung open and two men appeared,

one of whom was Drebber, and the other was a young chap whom I had

never seen before. This fellow had Drebber by the collar, and when they

came to the head of the steps he gave him a shove and a kick which sent

him half across the road. ‘You hound,’ he cried, shaking his stick at

him; ‘I’ll teach you to insult an honest girl!’ He was so hot that I

think he would have thrashed Drebber with his cudgel, only that the cur

staggered away down the road as fast as his legs would carry him. He

ran as far as the corner, and then, seeing my cab, he hailed me and

jumped in. ‘Drive me to Halliday’s Private Hotel,’ said he.

“When I had him fairly inside my cab, my heart jumped so with joy that

I feared lest at this last moment my aneurism might go wrong. I drove

along slowly, weighing in my own mind what it was best to do. I might

take him right out into the country, and there in some deserted lane

have my last interview with him. I had almost decided upon this, when

he solved the problem for me. The craze for drink had seized him again,

and he ordered me to pull up outside a gin palace. He went in, leaving

word that I should wait for him. There he remained until closing time,

and when he came out he was so far gone that I knew the game was in my

own hands.

“Don’t imagine that I intended to kill him in cold blood. It would only

have been rigid justice if I had done so, but I could not bring myself

to do it. I had long determined that he should have a show for his life

if he chose to take advantage of it. Among the many billets which I

have filled in America during my wandering life, I was once janitor and

sweeper out of the laboratory at York College. One day the professor

was lecturing on poisons, and he showed his students some alkaloid, as

he called it, which he had extracted from some South American arrow

poison, and which was so powerful that the least grain meant instant

death. I spotted the bottle in which this preparation was kept, and

when they were all gone, I helped myself to a little of it. I was a

fairly good dispenser, so I worked this alkaloid into small, soluble

pills, and each pill I put in a box with a similar pill made without

the poison. I determined at the time that when I had my chance, my

gentlemen should each have a draw out of one of these boxes, while I

ate the pill that remained. It would be quite as deadly, and a good

deal less noisy than firing across a handkerchief. From that day I had

always my pill boxes about with me, and the time had now come when I

was to use them.

“It was nearer one than twelve, and a wild, bleak night, blowing hard

and raining in torrents. Dismal as it was outside, I was glad within—so

glad that I could have shouted out from pure exultation. If any of you

gentlemen have ever pined for a thing, and longed for it during twenty

long years, and then suddenly found it within your reach, you would

understand my feelings. I lit a cigar, and puffed at it to steady my

nerves, but my hands were trembling, and my temples throbbing with

excitement. As I drove, I could see old John Ferrier and sweet Lucy

looking at me out of the darkness and smiling at me, just as plain as I

see you all in this room. All the way they were ahead of me, one on

each side of the horse until I pulled up at the house in the Brixton

Road.

“There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, except the

dripping of the rain. When I looked in at the window, I found Drebber

all huddled together in a drunken sleep. I shook him by the arm, ‘It’s

time to get out,’ I said.

“‘All right, cabby,’ said he.

“I suppose he thought we had come to the hotel that he had mentioned,

for he got out without another word, and followed me down the garden. I

had to walk beside him to keep him steady, for he was still a little

top-heavy. When we came to the door, I opened it, and led him into the

front room. I give you my word that all the way, the father and the

daughter were walking in front of us.

“‘It’s infernally dark,’ said he, stamping about.

“‘We’ll soon have a light,’ I said, striking a match and putting it to

a wax candle which I had brought with me. ‘Now, Enoch Drebber,’ I

continued, turning to him, and holding the light to my own face, ‘who

am I?’

“He gazed at me with bleared, drunken eyes for a moment, and then I saw

a horror spring up in them, and convulse his whole features, which

showed me that he knew me. He staggered back with a livid face, and I

saw the perspiration break out upon his brow, while his teeth chattered

in his head. At the sight, I leaned my back against the door and

laughed loud and long. I had always known that vengeance would be

sweet, but I had never hoped for the contentment of soul which now

possessed me.

“‘You dog!’ I said; ‘I have hunted you from Salt Lake City to St.

Petersburg, and you have always escaped me. Now, at last your

wanderings have come to an end, for either you or I shall never see

to-morrow’s sun rise.’ He shrunk still further away as I spoke, and I

could see on his face that he thought I was mad. So I was for the time.

The pulses in my temples beat like sledge-hammers, and I believe I

would have had a fit of some sort if the blood had not gushed from my

nose and relieved me.

“‘What do you think of Lucy Ferrier now?’ I cried, locking the door,

and shaking the key in his face. ‘Punishment has been slow in coming,

but it has overtaken you at last.’ I saw his coward lips tremble as I

spoke. He would have begged for his life, but he knew well that it was

useless.

“‘Would you murder me?’ he stammered.

“‘There is no murder,’ I answered. ‘Who talks of murdering a mad dog?

What mercy had you upon my poor darling, when you dragged her from her

slaughtered father, and bore her away to your accursed and shameless

harem.’

“‘It was not I who killed her father,’ he cried.

“‘But it was you who broke her innocent heart,’ I shrieked, thrusting

the box before him. ‘Let the high God judge between us. Choose and eat.

There is death in one and life in the other. I shall take what you

leave. Let us see if there is justice upon the earth, or if we are

ruled by chance.’

“He cowered away with wild cries and prayers for mercy, but I drew my

knife and held it to his throat until he had obeyed me. Then I

swallowed the other, and we stood facing one another in silence for a

minute or more, waiting to see which was to live and which was to die.

Shall I ever forget the look which came over his face when the first

warning pangs told him that the poison was in his system? I laughed as

I saw it, and held Lucy’s marriage ring in front of his eyes. It was

but for a moment, for the action of the alkaloid is rapid. A spasm of

pain contorted his features; he threw his hands out in front of him,

staggered, and then, with a hoarse cry, fell heavily upon the floor. I

turned him over with my foot, and placed my hand upon his heart. There

was no movement. He was dead!

“The blood had been streaming from my nose, but I had taken no notice

of it. I don’t know what it was that put it into my head to write upon

the wall with it. Perhaps it was some mischievous idea of setting the

police upon a wrong track, for I felt light-hearted and cheerful. I

remembered a German being found in New York with RACHE written up above

him, and it was argued at the time in the newspapers that the secret

societies must have done it. I guessed that what puzzled the New

Yorkers would puzzle the Londoners, so I dipped my finger in my own

blood and printed it on a convenient place on the wall. Then I walked

down to my cab and found that there was nobody about, and that the

night was still very wild. I had driven some distance when I put my

hand into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy’s ring, and found

that it was not there. I was thunderstruck at this, for it was the only

memento that I had of her. Thinking that I might have dropped it when I

stooped over Drebber’s body, I drove back, and leaving my cab in a side

street, I went boldly up to the house—for I was ready to dare anything

rather than lose the ring. When I arrived there, I walked right into

the arms of a police-officer who was coming out, and only managed to

disarm his suspicions by pretending to be hopelessly drunk.

“That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end. All I had to do then was

to do as much for Stangerson, and so pay off John Ferrier’s debt. I

knew that he was staying at Halliday’s Private Hotel, and I hung about

all day, but he never came out. I fancy that he suspected something

when Drebber failed to put in an appearance. He was cunning, was

Stangerson, and always on his guard. If he thought he could keep me off

by staying indoors he was very much mistaken. I soon found out which

was the window of his bedroom, and early next morning I took advantage

of some ladders which were lying in the lane behind the hotel, and so

made my way into his room in the grey of the dawn. I woke him up and

told him that the hour had come when he was to answer for the life he

had taken so long before. I described Drebber’s death to him, and I

gave him the same choice of the poisoned pills. Instead of grasping at

the chance of safety which that offered him, he sprang from his bed and

flew at my throat. In self-defence I stabbed him to the heart. It would

have been the same in any case, for Providence would never have allowed

his guilty hand to pick out anything but the poison.

“I have little more to say, and it’s as well, for I am about done up. I

went on cabbing it for a day or so, intending to keep at it until I

could save enough to take me back to America. I was standing in the

yard when a ragged youngster asked if there was a cabby there called

Jefferson Hope, and said that his cab was wanted by a gentleman at

221B, Baker Street. I went round, suspecting no harm, and the next

thing I knew, this young man here had the bracelets on my wrists, and

as neatly shackled as ever I saw in my life. That’s the whole of my

story, gentlemen. You may consider me to be a murderer; but I hold that

I am just as much an officer of justice as you are.”

So thrilling had the man’s narrative been, and his manner was so

impressive that we had sat silent and absorbed. Even the professional

detectives, _blasé_ as they were in every detail of crime, appeared to

be keenly interested in the man’s story. When he finished we sat for

some minutes in a stillness which was only broken by the scratching of

Lestrade’s pencil as he gave the finishing touches to his shorthand

account.

“There is only one point on which I should like a little more

information,” Sherlock Holmes said at last. “Who was your accomplice

who came for the ring which I advertised?”

The prisoner winked at my friend jocosely. “I can tell my own secrets,”

he said, “but I don’t get other people into trouble. I saw your

advertisement, and I thought it might be a plant, or it might be the

ring which I wanted. My friend volunteered to go and see. I think

you’ll own he did it smartly.”

“Not a doubt of that,” said Holmes heartily.

“Now, gentlemen,” the Inspector remarked gravely, “the forms of the law

must be complied with. On Thursday the prisoner will be brought before

the magistrates, and your attendance will be required. Until then I

will be responsible for him.” He rang the bell as he spoke, and

Jefferson Hope was led off by a couple of warders, while my friend and

I made our way out of the Station and took a cab back to Baker Street.