September 29, 2023 • 51 mins
Sherlock Holmes finds a stolen jewel, the Blue Carbuncle, inside a Christmas goose. Using clues from a lost hat and the goose's origins, he traces the thief, exonerates an innocent man, and identifies the true culprit, James Ryder. Holmes returns the gem to its rightful owner, clears an innocent man's name, and resolves the case with his exceptional deduction skills.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Adventure seven of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. This liprivox
recording is in the public domain and is read by
Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Adventures of Sherlock
Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure seven, the Adventure
of the Blue Carbuncle. I had called upon my friend
(00:25):
Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the
intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He
was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing gown,
a pipe rack within his reach upon the right, and
a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied near
at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and
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on the angle of the back hung a very seedy
and disreputable, hard felt hat, much the worse for wear
and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps
lying upon the seat of the chair suggest jested that
the hat had been suspended in this manner for the
purpose of examination. You are engaged, said I, perhaps I
(01:08):
interrupt you not at all. I am glad to have
a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The
matter is a perfectly trivial one. He jerked his thumb
in the direction of the old hat. But there are
points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid
of interest and even of instruction. I seated myself in
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his arm chair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire,
for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows
were thick with the ice crystals, I suppose. I remarked that,
only as it looks, this thing has some deadly story
linked on to it. That it is the clue which
will guide you in the solution of some mystery and
(01:51):
the punishment of some crime. No, no, no crime, said
Sherlock Holmes, laughing, only one of those whims little incidents
which will happen when you have four million human beings
all jostling each other within the space of a few
square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense
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a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may
be expected to take place, and many a little problem
will be presented, which may be striking and bizarre without
being criminal. We already had experience of such, so much
so I remarked that of the last six cases which
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I have added, to my notes three have been entirely
free of any legal crime. Precisely you allude to my
attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular
case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of
the man with a twisted lip. Well, I have no
doubt that this small matter will fall into the same
(02:53):
innocent category. You know Peterson the Commissionaire. Yes, it is
to him that this trophy belongs. It is his hat. No, no,
he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that
you will look upon it not as a battered billycock,
but as an intellectual problem. And first, as to how
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it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning in company
with good fat goose, which is I have no doubt
roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The
facts are these. About four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson,
who as you know, is a very honest fellow, was
returning from some small jollification, and was making his way
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homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he
saw in the gaslight a tallish man walking with a
slight stagger and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder.
As he reached the corner of Goog Street, a row
broke out between this stranger and a little knot of ruffs.
One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on
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which he raised his stick to defend himself, and swinging
it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him.
Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants,
but the man, shocked at having broken the window and
seeing an official looking person in uniform rushing towards him,
dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid
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the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back
of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at
the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in
possession of the field of battle, and also of the
spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat
and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose, which surely he restored
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to their owner, My dear fellow, there lies the problem.
It is true that for missus Henry Baker was printed
upon a small card which was tied to the bird's
left leg, and it is also true that the initials
H B are legible upon the lining of his hat.
But as there are some thousands of bakers and some
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hundreds of Henry bakers in this city of ours, it
is not easy to restore a lost property to any
want of them. What then did Peterson do? He brought
round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning,
knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me.
The goose we retained until this morning, when there were
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signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would
be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay.
Its finder has carried it off, therefore to fulfill the
ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continued to retain
the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner?
Did he not advertise? No? Then? What clue could you
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have as to his identity? Only as much as we
can deduce from his hat precisely? But you are joking?
What can you gather from this old, battered felt Here
is my lens, You know my methods. What can you
gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who
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has worn this article? I took the tattered object in
my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was
a very ordinary black hat, of the usual round shape,
hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had
been of red silk, but was a good deal discolored.
There was no maker's name, but as Holmes had remarked,
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the initials H B were scrawled upon one side. It
was pierced in the brim for a hat securer, but
the elastic was missing for the rest. It was cracked,
exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed
to have been some attempt to hide the discolored patches
by mirroring them with ink. I can see nothing, said I,
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handing it back to my friend. On the contrary, Watson,
you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from
what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then, pray,
tell me what it is that you can infer from
this hat. He picked it up and gazed at it
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in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him.
It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been,
he remarked. And yet there are a few inferences which
are very distinct, and a few others which represent at
least a strong balance of probability that the man was
highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it,
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and also that he was fairly well to do within
the last three years, although he has now fallen upon
evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly,
pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the
decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence,
probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also
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for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to
love him, My dear Holmes, He has, however, retained some
degree of self respect, he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. He
is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little,
is out of training, entirely, is middle aged, has grizzled hair,
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which he has had cut within the last few days,
and which he anoints with lime cream. These are the
more patent facts which are to be deuced from this hat.
Also by the way that it is extremely improbable that
he has gas laid on in his house. You are
certainly joking, Holmes. Not in the least is it possible that,
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even now, when I give you these results, you are
unable to see how they are attained. I have no
doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess
that I am unable to follow you. For example, how
did you deduce that this man was intellectual? For answer,
Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right
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over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose.
It is a question of cubic capacity, said he. A
man with so large a brain must have something in
it the decline of his fortunes. Then this hat is
three years old. These flat brims, curled at the edge,
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came in. Then it is a hat of the very
best quality. Look at the band of ripped silk and
the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy
so expensive a hat three years ago and has had
no hat since then, he has assuredly gone down in
the world. Well, that is clear enough, certainly, But how
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about the foresight and the moral retrogression? Sherlock Holmes laughed.
Here is the foresight, said he, putting his finger upon
the little disk and loop of the hat. Securer, they
are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one,
it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight.
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Since he went out of his way to take this
precaution against the wind. But since we see that he
has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it,
it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly,
which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On
the other hand, he has endeavored to conceal some of
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these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink,
which is a sign that he has not entirely lost
his self respect. Your reasoning is certainly plausible. The further
points that he is middle aged, that his hair is grizzled,
that it has been recently cut, and that he uses
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lime cream are all to be gathered from a close
examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens
discloses a large number of hair ends, clean cut by
the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive,
and there is a distinct odor of lime cream. This
dust you will observe is not the gritty gray dust
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of the street, but the fluffy brown dust of the house,
showing that it has been hung up indoors most of
the time. While the marks of moisture upon the inside
are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely and
could therefore hardly be in the best of training. But
his wife, you said that she had ceased to love him.
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This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I
see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of
dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you
to go out in such a state, I shall fear
that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your
wife's affection. But he might be a bachelor. Nay, he
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was bringing home the goose as a peace offering to
his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg. You
have an answer to everything. But how on earth do
you deduce that the gas is not laid on in
his house? One tallow stain or even two might come
by chance, But when I see no less than five,
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I think that there can be little doubt that the
individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow
walks upstairs at night, probably with his hat in one
hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he
never got tallow stains from a gas jet. Are you satisfied? Well,
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it is very ingenious, said I, laughing. But since as
you said just now, there has been no crime committed,
and no harm done, save the loss of a goose.
All this seems to be rather a waste of energy.
Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply when the
door flew open, and Peterson, the Commissionaire, rushed into the
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apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man
who is dazed with astonishment. The goose, Mister Holmes, the goose, sir,
He gasped, Eh, what of it? Then? Has it returned
to life? And flapped off through the kitchen window. Holmes
twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer
view of the man's excited face. See here, sir, see
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what my wife founded its crop. He held out his
hand and displayed upon the center of the palm a
brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size,
but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like
an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.
Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle by jove, Peterson
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said he this is a treasure trove. Indeed, I suppose
you know what you have got? A diamond, sir, A
precious stone. It cuts into glasses though it were putty.
It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone,
not the Countess of more Car's blue carbuncle. I ejaculated
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precisely so I ought to know its size and shape,
seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in
the Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and
its value can only be conjectured. But the reward offered
of one thousand pounds is certainly not within a twentieth
part of the market price a thousand pounds, Great Lord
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of Mercy, the Commissionaire plumped down into a chair and
stared from one to the other of us. That is
the reward, And I have reason to know that there
are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the
Countess to part with half her fortune if she could
but recover the gem it was lost, if I remember
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aright at the Hotel Cosmopolitan, I remarked precisely so. On
December twenty second, just five days ago, John Horner, a plumber,
was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel case.
The evidence against him was so strong that the case
has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account
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of the matter here I believe he rummaged amid his newspapers,
glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out,
doubled it over, and read the following paragraph. Hotel Cosmopolitan
Jewel Robbery. John Horner, twenty six Plumber was brought up
upon the charge of having, upon the twenty second instant,
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abstracted from the jewel case of the Countess of Morcar
the valuable gem known as the blue Carbuncle. James Rider, Upper,
attended at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect
that he had shown Horner up to the dressing room
of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery,
in order that he might solder the second bar of
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the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner
some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning,
he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had
been forced open, and that the small Morocco casket, in which,
as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep
her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing table. Rider
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instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening,
but the stone could not be found either upon his
person or in his rooms. Catherine Cousack made to the
Countess deposed to having heard writers cry of dismay on
discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room
where she found matters as described by the last witness.
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Inspector Bradstreet, b Division gave evidence as to the arrest
of Horner, who struggled frantically and protested his innocence in
the strongest terms, evidence of a previous conviction for robbery
having been given against the prisoner. The magistrate refused to
deal summarily with the offense, but referred it to the assizes. Horner,
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who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings,
fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court.
Hum So much for the police court, said Holmes, thoughtfully,
tossing aside the paper. The question for us now to
solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled
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jewel case at one end to the crop of a
goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson,
our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important
and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone. The stone
came from the goose, and the goose came from mister
Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat, and all
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the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So
now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this
gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this
little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest
means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in
all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have
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recourse to other methods. What will you say, give me
a pencil and that slip of paper now then found
at the corner of Good Street, a goose and a
black felt hat. Mister Henry Baker can have the same
by applying at six thirty this evening at two two
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one B Baker Street. That is clear and concise. Very,
but will he see it well? He is sure to
keep an eye on the papers, since to a poor
man the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly
so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and
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by the approach of Peterson, that he thought of nothing
but flight. But since then he must have bitterly regretted
the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then
again the introduction of his name will cause him to
see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his
attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to
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the advertising agency and have this put in the evening
papers in which sir oh in the Globe, Star, pell Mell,
Saint James's Evening News, Standard Echo, and any others that occur.
To you very well, sir, and this stone. Ah, yes,
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I shall keep the stone, thank you, And I say, Peterson,
just buy a goose on your way back and leave
it here with me, for we must have one to
give to this gentleman in place of the one which
your family is now devouring. When the Commissionaire had gone,
Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light.
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It's a bonny thing, said he. Just see how it
glints and sparkles. Of course, it is a nucleus and
focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the
devil's pet bits. In the larger and older jewels, every
facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is
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not yet twenty years old. It was found in the
banks of the Amoy River in southern China, and is
remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, say that
it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In
spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history.
There have been two murders, a vitriol throwing, a suicide,
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and several robberies brought about for the sake of this
forty grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that
so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the
gallows and the prison. I'll lock it up in my
strong box now and drop a line to the Countess
to say that we have it. Do you think that
this man Horner is innocent? I cannot tell. Well, then
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do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had
anything to do with the matter. It is I think
much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent
man who had no idea that the bird which he
was carrying was of considerably more value than if it
were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine
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by a very simple test, if we have an answer
to our advertisement, and you can do nothing until then nothing.
In that case, I shall continue my professional round, but
I shall come back in the evening at the hour
you have mentioned for I should like to see the
solution of so tangled a business. Very glad to see you,
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I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe,
by the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I
ought to ask missus Hudson to examine its crop. I
had been delayed at a case, and it was a
little after half past six when I found myself in
Baker Street once more. As I approached the house, I
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saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a
coat which was buttoned up to its chin, waiting outside
in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fan light.
Just as I arrived, the door was opened and we
were shown up together to Holmes's room. Mister Henry Baker,
I believe, said he rising from his arm chair and
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greeting his visener with the easy air of geniality which
he could so readily assume. Pray, take this chair by
the fire, mister Baker. It is a cold night, and
I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer
than for winter. Ah Watson, you have just come at
the right time. Is that your hat, mister Baker, Yes, sir,
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that is undoubtedly my hat. He was a large man,
with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent
face sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown,
a touch of red and nose and cheeks with a
slight tremor of his extended hand recalled Holmes's surmise as
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to his habits. His rusty black frock coat was buttoned
right up in front, with a collar turned up, and
his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign
of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow, staccato fashion,
choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally
of a man of learning and letters who had had
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ill usage at the hands of fortune. We have retained
these things for some days, said Holmes, because we expected
to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I
am at a loss to know why you did not advertise.
Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. Shillings have not
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been so plentiful with me as they once were, he remarked.
I had no doubt that the gang of ruffs who
assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird.
I did not care to spend more money in a
hopeless attempt at recovering them. Very naturally, by the way,
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about the bird, we were compelled to eat it. To
eat it, our visitor half rose from his chair in
his excitement. Yes, it would have been of no use
to anyone had we not done so. But I presume
that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about
the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose
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equally well. Oh, certainly certainly, answered mister Baker, with a
sigh of relief. Of course we still have the feathers, legs,
crop and so on of your own bird. So if
you wish, the man burst into a hearty laugh. Ah,
they might be useful to me as relics of my adventure,
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said he. But beyond that, I can hardly see that
what use the disject a member of my late acquaintance,
are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that,
with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the
excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard. Sherlock Holmes
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glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of
his shoulders. There is your hat, then, and there your bird,
said he. And by the way, would it bore you
to tell me where you got the other one from.
I am somewhat of a foul fancier, and I have
seldom seen a better grown goose. Certainly, sir, said Baker,
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who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under
his arm. There are a few of us who frequent
the Alpha Inn near the museum. We are to be
found in the museum itself during the day. You understand.
This year, our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a
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goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence
every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas.
My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar
to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for
a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor
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my gravity. With a comical pomposity of manner, he bowed
solemnly to both of us, and strode off upon his way.
So much for mister Henry, Baker, said Holmes, when he
had closed the door behind him. It is quite certain
that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson,
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not particularly? Then? I suggest that we turn our dinner
into a supper and follow up this clue while it
is still hot. By all means, it was a bitter night,
so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about
our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a
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cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers by blew
out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls
rang out crisply and loudly as we swung out through
the Doctor's Quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through
Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an
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hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which
is a small public house at the corner of one
of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed
open the door of the private bar and ordered two
glasses of beer from the ruddy faced white apron. Landlord,
your beer should be excellent, if it is as good
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as your geese, said he my geese. The man seemed surprised. Yes,
I was speaking only half an hour ago to mister
Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club. Ah, yes,
I see, But you see, sir, them's not our geese. Indeed,
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who's then, well, I got the two from a salesman
in Covent Garden. Indeed I know some of them. Which
was it Breakinridge is his name? Ah, I don't know him. Well,
here's your good health, landlord, and prosperity to your house.
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Good night now for mister Breckinridge. He continued buttoning up
his coat as we came out into the frosty air.
Remember Watson, that though we have so homely a thing
as a goose at one end of this chain, we
have at the other a man who will certainly get
seven years penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence.
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It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt.
But in any case we have a line of investigation
which has been missed by the police, and which a
singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow
it out to the bitter end faces to the south. Then,
and quick march we passed across Holborn, down Endell Street,
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and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market.
One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge
upon it, and the proprietor, a horsey looking man with
a sharp face and trim side. Whiskers was helping a
boy to put up the shutters. Good evening, it's a
cold night, said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a
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questioning glance at my companion. Sold out of geese, I see,
continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. Let
you have five hundred tomorrow morning. That's no good. Well,
there are some on the stall with a gas flare. Ah,
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but I was recommended to you who by the landlord
of the Alpha. Oh, yes, I sent him a couple
of dozen fine birds. They were two. Now where did
you get them from? To my surprise, the question provoked
a burst of anger from the salesman. Now, then, mister
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said he, with his head cocked in his arms. Akimbo,
what are you driving at? Let's have it straight now
it is straight enough. I should like to know who
sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha. Well,
then I shan't tell you so now, Oh, it is
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a matter of no importance. But I don't know why
you should be so warm over such a trifle. Warm.
You'd be as warm maybe if you were as pestered
as I am. When I pay good money for a
good article. There should be an end of the business.
But it's where are the geese? And who did you
sell the geese too? And what will you take for
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the geese? One would think they were the only geese
in the world to hear the fun that is made
over them. Well, I have no connection with any other
people who have been making inquiries, said Holmes carelessly. If
you won't tell us, the bet is off, that is all.
But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a
(32:15):
matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it
that the bird I ate is country bread. Well, then
you've lost your fiver, for it's town bread, snapped the salesman.
It's nothing of the kind I say it is. I
don't believe it. Do you think you know more about
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fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I
was a nipper. I tell you all those birds that
went to the Alpha were town bread. You'll never persuade
me to believe that, will you. Bet? Then it's merely
taking your money for I know that I am right.
But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to
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teach you not to be obstinate. The salesman chuckled grimly.
Bring me the books, bill said he. The small boy
brought round a small, thin volume and a great greasy
backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. Now, then,
mister cockshure, said the salesman. I thought that I was
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out of geese, but before I finish, you'll find that
there is still one left in my shop. You see
this little book, well, that's the list of the folk
from whom I buy. Do you see? Well, then here
on this page are the country folk, and the numbers
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after their names are where their accounts are in the
big ledger. Now then you see this other page in
red ink, Well that is a list of my town suppliers.
Now look at that third name. Just read it out
to me, missus Oakshot one seventeen, Brixton Road, two forty nine,
(34:04):
read Holmes. Quite so, now turn that up in the ledger.
Holmes turned to the page indicated here you are missus
Oakshot one seventeen, Brixton Road, Egg and Poultry supplier. Now
then what's the last entry, December twenty second, twenty four
(34:26):
geese at seven shillings sixpence. Quite so, there you are
and underneath sold to mister Wendicate of the Alpha at
twelve shillings. What have you to say now, Sherlock Holmes
looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket
(34:47):
and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with
the air of a man whose disgust is too deep
for words. A few yards off he stopped under a
lamp post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless facs, which
was peculiar to him. When you see a man with
whiskers of that cut and the pink un protruding out
(35:09):
of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,
said he. I dare say that if I had put
one hundred pounds down in front of him, that man
would not have given me such complete information as was
drawn from him by the idea that he was doing
me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are I fancy
(35:29):
nearing the end of our quest, and the only point
which remains to be determined is whether we should go
on to this missus Oakshot tonight or whether we should
reserve it for tomorrow. It is clear from what that
surly fellow said that there are others beside ourselves, who
are anxious about the matter, and I should. His remarks
(35:50):
were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke
out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round,
we saw a little rat faced fellow standing in the
center of the circle of yellow light which was thrown
by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in
the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely
(36:10):
at the cringing figure. I've had enough of you and
your geese, he shouted. I wish you were all at
the Devil together. If you come pestering me any more
with your silly talk, I'll set the dog at you.
You bring Missus Oakshot here and I'll answer her. But
what have you to do with it? Did I buy
(36:32):
the geese off you? No? But one of them was
mine all the same, whined the little man. Well, then
asked Missus Oakshot for it. She told me to ask you. Well,
you can ask the King of Prussia for all I care.
I've had enough of it. Get out of this, he
(36:54):
rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. Ah,
this may save us a visit to Brixton Road, whispered Holmes.
Come with me and we will see what is to
be made of this fellow. Striding through the scattered knots
of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion
(37:16):
speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder.
He sprang round, and I could see in the gaslight
that every vestige of color had been driven from his face.
Who are you then? What do you want? He asked
in a quavering voice. You will excuse me, said Holmes blandly,
(37:38):
But I could not help overhearing the questions which you
put to the salesman. Just now, I think that I
could be of assistance to you. You who are you?
How could you know anything of the matter. My name
is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what
other people don't know. But you can know nothing of this.
(38:02):
Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavoring
to trace some geese which was sold by Missus Oakshott
of Brixton Road to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him
in turn to mister Windygate of the Alpha, and by
him to his club of which mister Henry Baker is
a member. Oh, sir, you are the very man which
(38:24):
I have longed to meet, cried the little fellow, with
outstretched hands and quivering fingers. I can hardly explain to
you how interested I am in this matter. Sherlock Holmes
hailed a four wheeler which was passing. In that case,
we had better discuss it in a cozy room rather
than in this windswept market place, said he. But pray
(38:47):
tell me before we go farther who it is that
I have the pleasure of assisting. The man hesitated for
an instant. My name is John Robinson, he answered, with
a sidelong glance. No, no, the real name, said Holmes sweetly.
It is always awkward doing business with an alias. A
(39:10):
flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. Well, then,
said he, My real name is James Ryder. Precisely so,
head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the
cab and I shall soon be able to tell you
everything which you would wish to know. The little man
(39:32):
stood glancing from one to the other of us with
half frightened, half hopeful eyes, as one who is not
sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall,
or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab,
and in half an hour we were back in the
sitting room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during
our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion,
(39:55):
and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands spoke of
the nervous town within him. Here we are, said Holmes cheerily,
as we filed into the room. The fire looks very
seasonable in this weather. You look cold, mister Rider. Pray
take the basket chair. I will just put on my
(40:15):
slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now,
then you want to know what became of those geese, yes, sir,
Or rather I fancy of that goose. It was one bird,
I imagine in which you were interested, white with a
black bar across the tail. Rider quivered with emotion. Oh, sir,
(40:40):
he cried, Can you tell me where it went to?
It came here here, Yes, and a most remarkable bird
it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an
interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead,
the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen.
(41:01):
I have it here in my museum. Our visitor staggered
to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand.
Holmes unlocked his strong box and held up the blue carbuncle,
which shone out like a star with a cold, brilliant,
many pointed radiance. Rider stood glaring with a drawn face,
(41:22):
uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. The game's up, Rider,
said Holmes quietly. Hold up, man, or you'll be into
the fire. Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson,
he's not got blood enough to go in for felony
with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy, so now
(41:44):
he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is,
to be sure. For a moment he had staggered and
nearly fallen, But the brandy brought a tinge of color
into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes
at his accuser. I have almost every link in my hands,
and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so
(42:06):
there is little which you need. Tell me still, that
little may as well be cleared up to make the
case complete. You had heard Rider of this blue stone,
of the Countess of more Cars. It was Catherine Cousac,
who told me of it. He said, in a cracking voice,
I see her ladyship's waiting maid. Well, the temptation of
(42:30):
sudden wealth, so easily acquired was too much for you,
as it has been for better men before you. But
you were not very scrupulous in the means you used.
It seems to me, Rider, that there is the making
of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that
this man Horner the plumber, had been concerned in some
such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more
(42:54):
readily upon him. What did you do? Then? You made
some small job in my lady room, you and your
confederate Cusack, and you managed that he should be the
man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled
the jewel case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate
man arrested you. Then Rider threw himself down suddenly upon
(43:18):
the rug and clutched at my companion's knees. For God's sake,
have mercy, he shrieked. Think of my father, of my mother.
It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before,
I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it
on a bible oh, don't bring it into court. For
(43:41):
Christ's sake. Don't get back into your chair, said Holmes sternly.
It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but
you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the
dock for a crime of which he knew nothing. I
will fly, mister Holmes. I will leave the country, sir.
Then the charge against him will break down. Hum, we
(44:05):
will talk about that, And now let us hear a
true account of the next act. How came the stone
into the goose, and how came the goose into the
open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your
only hope of safety. Rider passed his tongue over his
parched lips. I will tell you it just as it happened, sir,
(44:28):
said he. When Harner had been arrested, it seemed to
me that it would be best for me to get
away with a stone at once, for I did not
know it what moment the police might not take it
into their heads to search me and my room. There
was no place about the hotel where it would be safe.
I went out, as if on some commission, and I
(44:50):
made for my sister's house. She had married a man
named oak Shot and lived in Brixton Road, where she
fattened fowls for the market. All the way there, every
man I met seemed to me to be a policeman
or a detective. And for all that it was a
cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face. Before
(45:11):
I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me
what was the matter and why I was so pale.
But I told her that I had been upset by
the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into
the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what
it would be best to do. I had a friend
once called Maudsley, who went to the bad had as
(45:34):
just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he
had met me and fell into talk about the ways
of thieves and how they could get rid of what
they stole. I knew that he would be true to me,
for I knew one or two things about him. So
I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn,
where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He
(45:57):
would show me how to turn the stone into money,
but how to get to him in safety. I thought
of the agonies I had gone through in coming from
the hotel, I might at any moment be seized and searched,
and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket.
I was leaning against the wall at the time and
looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet,
(46:20):
and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed
me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.
My sister had told me some weeks before that I
might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present,
and I knew that she was always as good as
her word. I would take my goose now, and in
(46:40):
it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was
a little shed in the yard, and behind this I
drove one of the birds, a fine, big one, white
with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its
bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as
far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp,
(47:01):
and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and
down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled,
and out came my sister to know what was the matter.
As I turned to speak to her, the brute broke
loose and fluttered off among the others. Whatever were you
doing with that bird, Jim, says she. Well, says I.
(47:24):
You said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I
was feeling which was the fattest, Oh, says she. We've
set yours aside for you, Jem's bird. We call it.
It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty six
of them, which makes one for you and one for us,
and two dozen for the market. Thank you, Maggie, says I.
(47:48):
But if it is all the same to you, I'd
rather have that one I was handling just now. The
other is a good three pound heavier, said she, And
we fattened it expressly for you. Never mind, I'll have
the other, and I'll take it now, said I. Oh,
just as you like, said she a little huffed. Which
(48:11):
is it you want, then, that white one with the
barred tail right in the middle of the flock, Oh,
very well, kill it and take it with you. Well.
I did what she said, mister Holmes, and I carried
the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my
pal what I had done, for he was a man
that it was easy to tell a thing like that too.
(48:33):
He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife
and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for
there was no sign of the stone, and I knew
that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird,
rushed back to my sisters, and hurried into the back yard.
There was not a bird to be seen there. Where
(48:54):
are they all, Maggie, I cried, gone to the dealer's jem,
which dealer breakin ridge of Covent Garden? But was there
another with a barred tail? I asked, the same as
the one I chose. Yes, jem, there were two bard
tailed ones, and I never could tell them apart. Well, then,
(49:16):
of course I saw it all, and I ran off
as hard as my feet would carry me to this
man Breckinridge. But he had sold the lot at once,
and not one word would he tell me as to
where they had gone. You hurt him yourselves tonight. Well
he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks
that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I
(49:39):
am myself, and now I am myself a branded thief
without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold
my character. God help me, God help me. He burst
into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.
(50:00):
Was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing
and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes's finger tips
upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose
and threw open the door. Get out, said he what sir, Oh,
Heaven bless you. No more words. Get out, And no
(50:22):
more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter
upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the
crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street. After all, Watson,
said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe.
I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies.
(50:43):
If Horner were in danger, it would be another thing.
But this fellow will not appear against him, and the
case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony,
but it is just possible that I am saving a soul.
This fellow will not go wrong again. He is too
terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you will
(51:04):
make him a jail bird for life. Besides, it is
the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way
a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is
its own reward. If you will have the goodness to
touch the bell. Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in
which also a bird will be the chief feature and
(51:29):
of adventure. Seven
Adventure seven of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. This liprivox
recording is in the public domain and is read by
Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Adventures of Sherlock
Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure seven, the Adventure
of the Blue Carbuncle. I had called upon my friend
(00:25):
Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the
intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He
was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing gown,
a pipe rack within his reach upon the right, and
a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied near
at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and
(00:46):
on the angle of the back hung a very seedy
and disreputable, hard felt hat, much the worse for wear
and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps
lying upon the seat of the chair suggest jested that
the hat had been suspended in this manner for the
purpose of examination. You are engaged, said I, perhaps I
(01:08):
interrupt you not at all. I am glad to have
a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The
matter is a perfectly trivial one. He jerked his thumb
in the direction of the old hat. But there are
points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid
of interest and even of instruction. I seated myself in
(01:29):
his arm chair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire,
for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows
were thick with the ice crystals, I suppose. I remarked that,
only as it looks, this thing has some deadly story
linked on to it. That it is the clue which
will guide you in the solution of some mystery and
(01:51):
the punishment of some crime. No, no, no crime, said
Sherlock Holmes, laughing, only one of those whims little incidents
which will happen when you have four million human beings
all jostling each other within the space of a few
square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense
(02:11):
a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may
be expected to take place, and many a little problem
will be presented, which may be striking and bizarre without
being criminal. We already had experience of such, so much
so I remarked that of the last six cases which
(02:31):
I have added, to my notes three have been entirely
free of any legal crime. Precisely you allude to my
attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular
case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of
the man with a twisted lip. Well, I have no
doubt that this small matter will fall into the same
(02:53):
innocent category. You know Peterson the Commissionaire. Yes, it is
to him that this trophy belongs. It is his hat. No, no,
he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that
you will look upon it not as a battered billycock,
but as an intellectual problem. And first, as to how
(03:16):
it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning in company
with good fat goose, which is I have no doubt
roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The
facts are these. About four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson,
who as you know, is a very honest fellow, was
returning from some small jollification, and was making his way
(03:39):
homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he
saw in the gaslight a tallish man walking with a
slight stagger and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder.
As he reached the corner of Goog Street, a row
broke out between this stranger and a little knot of ruffs.
One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on
(04:02):
which he raised his stick to defend himself, and swinging
it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him.
Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants,
but the man, shocked at having broken the window and
seeing an official looking person in uniform rushing towards him,
dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid
(04:25):
the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back
of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at
the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in
possession of the field of battle, and also of the
spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat
and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose, which surely he restored
(04:46):
to their owner, My dear fellow, there lies the problem.
It is true that for missus Henry Baker was printed
upon a small card which was tied to the bird's
left leg, and it is also true that the initials
H B are legible upon the lining of his hat.
But as there are some thousands of bakers and some
(05:08):
hundreds of Henry bakers in this city of ours, it
is not easy to restore a lost property to any
want of them. What then did Peterson do? He brought
round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning,
knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me.
The goose we retained until this morning, when there were
(05:30):
signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would
be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay.
Its finder has carried it off, therefore to fulfill the
ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continued to retain
the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner?
Did he not advertise? No? Then? What clue could you
(05:54):
have as to his identity? Only as much as we
can deduce from his hat precisely? But you are joking?
What can you gather from this old, battered felt Here
is my lens, You know my methods. What can you
gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who
(06:16):
has worn this article? I took the tattered object in
my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was
a very ordinary black hat, of the usual round shape,
hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had
been of red silk, but was a good deal discolored.
There was no maker's name, but as Holmes had remarked,
(06:39):
the initials H B were scrawled upon one side. It
was pierced in the brim for a hat securer, but
the elastic was missing for the rest. It was cracked,
exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed
to have been some attempt to hide the discolored patches
by mirroring them with ink. I can see nothing, said I,
(07:05):
handing it back to my friend. On the contrary, Watson,
you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from
what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then, pray,
tell me what it is that you can infer from
this hat. He picked it up and gazed at it
(07:25):
in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him.
It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been,
he remarked. And yet there are a few inferences which
are very distinct, and a few others which represent at
least a strong balance of probability that the man was
highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it,
(07:49):
and also that he was fairly well to do within
the last three years, although he has now fallen upon
evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly,
pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the
decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence,
probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also
(08:13):
for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to
love him, My dear Holmes, He has, however, retained some
degree of self respect, he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. He
is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little,
is out of training, entirely, is middle aged, has grizzled hair,
(08:36):
which he has had cut within the last few days,
and which he anoints with lime cream. These are the
more patent facts which are to be deuced from this hat.
Also by the way that it is extremely improbable that
he has gas laid on in his house. You are
certainly joking, Holmes. Not in the least is it possible that,
(08:59):
even now, when I give you these results, you are
unable to see how they are attained. I have no
doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess
that I am unable to follow you. For example, how
did you deduce that this man was intellectual? For answer,
Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right
(09:22):
over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose.
It is a question of cubic capacity, said he. A
man with so large a brain must have something in
it the decline of his fortunes. Then this hat is
three years old. These flat brims, curled at the edge,
(09:42):
came in. Then it is a hat of the very
best quality. Look at the band of ripped silk and
the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy
so expensive a hat three years ago and has had
no hat since then, he has assuredly gone down in
the world. Well, that is clear enough, certainly, But how
(10:04):
about the foresight and the moral retrogression? Sherlock Holmes laughed.
Here is the foresight, said he, putting his finger upon
the little disk and loop of the hat. Securer, they
are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one,
it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight.
(10:26):
Since he went out of his way to take this
precaution against the wind. But since we see that he
has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it,
it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly,
which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On
the other hand, he has endeavored to conceal some of
(10:46):
these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink,
which is a sign that he has not entirely lost
his self respect. Your reasoning is certainly plausible. The further
points that he is middle aged, that his hair is grizzled,
that it has been recently cut, and that he uses
(11:07):
lime cream are all to be gathered from a close
examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens
discloses a large number of hair ends, clean cut by
the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive,
and there is a distinct odor of lime cream. This
dust you will observe is not the gritty gray dust
(11:29):
of the street, but the fluffy brown dust of the house,
showing that it has been hung up indoors most of
the time. While the marks of moisture upon the inside
are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely and
could therefore hardly be in the best of training. But
his wife, you said that she had ceased to love him.
(11:52):
This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I
see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of
dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you
to go out in such a state, I shall fear
that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your
wife's affection. But he might be a bachelor. Nay, he
(12:13):
was bringing home the goose as a peace offering to
his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg. You
have an answer to everything. But how on earth do
you deduce that the gas is not laid on in
his house? One tallow stain or even two might come
by chance, But when I see no less than five,
(12:36):
I think that there can be little doubt that the
individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow
walks upstairs at night, probably with his hat in one
hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he
never got tallow stains from a gas jet. Are you satisfied? Well,
(12:56):
it is very ingenious, said I, laughing. But since as
you said just now, there has been no crime committed,
and no harm done, save the loss of a goose.
All this seems to be rather a waste of energy.
Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply when the
door flew open, and Peterson, the Commissionaire, rushed into the
(13:19):
apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man
who is dazed with astonishment. The goose, Mister Holmes, the goose, sir,
He gasped, Eh, what of it? Then? Has it returned
to life? And flapped off through the kitchen window. Holmes
twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer
view of the man's excited face. See here, sir, see
(13:42):
what my wife founded its crop. He held out his
hand and displayed upon the center of the palm a
brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size,
but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like
an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.
Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle by jove, Peterson
(14:06):
said he this is a treasure trove. Indeed, I suppose
you know what you have got? A diamond, sir, A
precious stone. It cuts into glasses though it were putty.
It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone,
not the Countess of more Car's blue carbuncle. I ejaculated
(14:30):
precisely so I ought to know its size and shape,
seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in
the Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and
its value can only be conjectured. But the reward offered
of one thousand pounds is certainly not within a twentieth
part of the market price a thousand pounds, Great Lord
(14:55):
of Mercy, the Commissionaire plumped down into a chair and
stared from one to the other of us. That is
the reward, And I have reason to know that there
are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the
Countess to part with half her fortune if she could
but recover the gem it was lost, if I remember
(15:17):
aright at the Hotel Cosmopolitan, I remarked precisely so. On
December twenty second, just five days ago, John Horner, a plumber,
was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel case.
The evidence against him was so strong that the case
has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account
(15:40):
of the matter here I believe he rummaged amid his newspapers,
glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out,
doubled it over, and read the following paragraph. Hotel Cosmopolitan
Jewel Robbery. John Horner, twenty six Plumber was brought up
upon the charge of having, upon the twenty second instant,
(16:01):
abstracted from the jewel case of the Countess of Morcar
the valuable gem known as the blue Carbuncle. James Rider, Upper,
attended at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect
that he had shown Horner up to the dressing room
of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery,
in order that he might solder the second bar of
(16:23):
the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner
some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning,
he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had
been forced open, and that the small Morocco casket, in which,
as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep
her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing table. Rider
(16:47):
instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening,
but the stone could not be found either upon his
person or in his rooms. Catherine Cousack made to the
Countess deposed to having heard writers cry of dismay on
discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room
where she found matters as described by the last witness.
(17:10):
Inspector Bradstreet, b Division gave evidence as to the arrest
of Horner, who struggled frantically and protested his innocence in
the strongest terms, evidence of a previous conviction for robbery
having been given against the prisoner. The magistrate refused to
deal summarily with the offense, but referred it to the assizes. Horner,
(17:33):
who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings,
fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court.
Hum So much for the police court, said Holmes, thoughtfully,
tossing aside the paper. The question for us now to
solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled
(17:53):
jewel case at one end to the crop of a
goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson,
our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important
and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone. The stone
came from the goose, and the goose came from mister
Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat, and all
(18:17):
the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So
now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this
gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this
little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest
means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in
all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have
(18:40):
recourse to other methods. What will you say, give me
a pencil and that slip of paper now then found
at the corner of Good Street, a goose and a
black felt hat. Mister Henry Baker can have the same
by applying at six thirty this evening at two two
(19:02):
one B Baker Street. That is clear and concise. Very,
but will he see it well? He is sure to
keep an eye on the papers, since to a poor
man the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly
so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and
(19:22):
by the approach of Peterson, that he thought of nothing
but flight. But since then he must have bitterly regretted
the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then
again the introduction of his name will cause him to
see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his
attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to
(19:43):
the advertising agency and have this put in the evening
papers in which sir oh in the Globe, Star, pell Mell,
Saint James's Evening News, Standard Echo, and any others that occur.
To you very well, sir, and this stone. Ah, yes,
(20:07):
I shall keep the stone, thank you, And I say, Peterson,
just buy a goose on your way back and leave
it here with me, for we must have one to
give to this gentleman in place of the one which
your family is now devouring. When the Commissionaire had gone,
Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light.
(20:28):
It's a bonny thing, said he. Just see how it
glints and sparkles. Of course, it is a nucleus and
focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the
devil's pet bits. In the larger and older jewels, every
facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is
(20:48):
not yet twenty years old. It was found in the
banks of the Amoy River in southern China, and is
remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, say that
it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In
spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history.
There have been two murders, a vitriol throwing, a suicide,
(21:12):
and several robberies brought about for the sake of this
forty grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that
so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the
gallows and the prison. I'll lock it up in my
strong box now and drop a line to the Countess
to say that we have it. Do you think that
this man Horner is innocent? I cannot tell. Well, then
(21:38):
do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had
anything to do with the matter. It is I think
much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent
man who had no idea that the bird which he
was carrying was of considerably more value than if it
were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine
(22:00):
by a very simple test, if we have an answer
to our advertisement, and you can do nothing until then nothing.
In that case, I shall continue my professional round, but
I shall come back in the evening at the hour
you have mentioned for I should like to see the
solution of so tangled a business. Very glad to see you,
(22:23):
I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe,
by the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I
ought to ask missus Hudson to examine its crop. I
had been delayed at a case, and it was a
little after half past six when I found myself in
Baker Street once more. As I approached the house, I
(22:45):
saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a
coat which was buttoned up to its chin, waiting outside
in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fan light.
Just as I arrived, the door was opened and we
were shown up together to Holmes's room. Mister Henry Baker,
I believe, said he rising from his arm chair and
(23:07):
greeting his visener with the easy air of geniality which
he could so readily assume. Pray, take this chair by
the fire, mister Baker. It is a cold night, and
I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer
than for winter. Ah Watson, you have just come at
the right time. Is that your hat, mister Baker, Yes, sir,
(23:30):
that is undoubtedly my hat. He was a large man,
with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent
face sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown,
a touch of red and nose and cheeks with a
slight tremor of his extended hand recalled Holmes's surmise as
(23:51):
to his habits. His rusty black frock coat was buttoned
right up in front, with a collar turned up, and
his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign
of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow, staccato fashion,
choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally
of a man of learning and letters who had had
(24:14):
ill usage at the hands of fortune. We have retained
these things for some days, said Holmes, because we expected
to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I
am at a loss to know why you did not advertise.
Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. Shillings have not
(24:38):
been so plentiful with me as they once were, he remarked.
I had no doubt that the gang of ruffs who
assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird.
I did not care to spend more money in a
hopeless attempt at recovering them. Very naturally, by the way,
(25:00):
about the bird, we were compelled to eat it. To
eat it, our visitor half rose from his chair in
his excitement. Yes, it would have been of no use
to anyone had we not done so. But I presume
that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about
the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose
(25:22):
equally well. Oh, certainly certainly, answered mister Baker, with a
sigh of relief. Of course we still have the feathers, legs,
crop and so on of your own bird. So if
you wish, the man burst into a hearty laugh. Ah,
they might be useful to me as relics of my adventure,
(25:47):
said he. But beyond that, I can hardly see that
what use the disject a member of my late acquaintance,
are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that,
with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the
excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard. Sherlock Holmes
(26:07):
glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of
his shoulders. There is your hat, then, and there your bird,
said he. And by the way, would it bore you
to tell me where you got the other one from.
I am somewhat of a foul fancier, and I have
seldom seen a better grown goose. Certainly, sir, said Baker,
(26:30):
who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under
his arm. There are a few of us who frequent
the Alpha Inn near the museum. We are to be
found in the museum itself during the day. You understand.
This year, our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a
(26:50):
goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence
every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas.
My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar
to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for
a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor
(27:11):
my gravity. With a comical pomposity of manner, he bowed
solemnly to both of us, and strode off upon his way.
So much for mister Henry, Baker, said Holmes, when he
had closed the door behind him. It is quite certain
that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson,
(27:33):
not particularly? Then? I suggest that we turn our dinner
into a supper and follow up this clue while it
is still hot. By all means, it was a bitter night,
so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about
our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a
(27:53):
cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers by blew
out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls
rang out crisply and loudly as we swung out through
the Doctor's Quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through
Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an
(28:13):
hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which
is a small public house at the corner of one
of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed
open the door of the private bar and ordered two
glasses of beer from the ruddy faced white apron. Landlord,
your beer should be excellent, if it is as good
(28:34):
as your geese, said he my geese. The man seemed surprised. Yes,
I was speaking only half an hour ago to mister
Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club. Ah, yes,
I see, But you see, sir, them's not our geese. Indeed,
(28:57):
who's then, well, I got the two from a salesman
in Covent Garden. Indeed I know some of them. Which
was it Breakinridge is his name? Ah, I don't know him. Well,
here's your good health, landlord, and prosperity to your house.
(29:17):
Good night now for mister Breckinridge. He continued buttoning up
his coat as we came out into the frosty air.
Remember Watson, that though we have so homely a thing
as a goose at one end of this chain, we
have at the other a man who will certainly get
seven years penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence.
(29:40):
It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt.
But in any case we have a line of investigation
which has been missed by the police, and which a
singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow
it out to the bitter end faces to the south. Then,
and quick march we passed across Holborn, down Endell Street,
(30:04):
and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market.
One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge
upon it, and the proprietor, a horsey looking man with
a sharp face and trim side. Whiskers was helping a
boy to put up the shutters. Good evening, it's a
cold night, said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a
(30:27):
questioning glance at my companion. Sold out of geese, I see,
continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. Let
you have five hundred tomorrow morning. That's no good. Well,
there are some on the stall with a gas flare. Ah,
(30:47):
but I was recommended to you who by the landlord
of the Alpha. Oh, yes, I sent him a couple
of dozen fine birds. They were two. Now where did
you get them from? To my surprise, the question provoked
a burst of anger from the salesman. Now, then, mister
(31:11):
said he, with his head cocked in his arms. Akimbo,
what are you driving at? Let's have it straight now
it is straight enough. I should like to know who
sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha. Well,
then I shan't tell you so now, Oh, it is
(31:31):
a matter of no importance. But I don't know why
you should be so warm over such a trifle. Warm.
You'd be as warm maybe if you were as pestered
as I am. When I pay good money for a
good article. There should be an end of the business.
But it's where are the geese? And who did you
sell the geese too? And what will you take for
(31:55):
the geese? One would think they were the only geese
in the world to hear the fun that is made
over them. Well, I have no connection with any other
people who have been making inquiries, said Holmes carelessly. If
you won't tell us, the bet is off, that is all.
But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a
(32:15):
matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it
that the bird I ate is country bread. Well, then
you've lost your fiver, for it's town bread, snapped the salesman.
It's nothing of the kind I say it is. I
don't believe it. Do you think you know more about
(32:35):
fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I
was a nipper. I tell you all those birds that
went to the Alpha were town bread. You'll never persuade
me to believe that, will you. Bet? Then it's merely
taking your money for I know that I am right.
But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to
(32:57):
teach you not to be obstinate. The salesman chuckled grimly.
Bring me the books, bill said he. The small boy
brought round a small, thin volume and a great greasy
backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. Now, then,
mister cockshure, said the salesman. I thought that I was
(33:20):
out of geese, but before I finish, you'll find that
there is still one left in my shop. You see
this little book, well, that's the list of the folk
from whom I buy. Do you see? Well, then here
on this page are the country folk, and the numbers
(33:41):
after their names are where their accounts are in the
big ledger. Now then you see this other page in
red ink, Well that is a list of my town suppliers.
Now look at that third name. Just read it out
to me, missus Oakshot one seventeen, Brixton Road, two forty nine,
(34:04):
read Holmes. Quite so, now turn that up in the ledger.
Holmes turned to the page indicated here you are missus
Oakshot one seventeen, Brixton Road, Egg and Poultry supplier. Now
then what's the last entry, December twenty second, twenty four
(34:26):
geese at seven shillings sixpence. Quite so, there you are
and underneath sold to mister Wendicate of the Alpha at
twelve shillings. What have you to say now, Sherlock Holmes
looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket
(34:47):
and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with
the air of a man whose disgust is too deep
for words. A few yards off he stopped under a
lamp post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless facs, which
was peculiar to him. When you see a man with
whiskers of that cut and the pink un protruding out
(35:09):
of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,
said he. I dare say that if I had put
one hundred pounds down in front of him, that man
would not have given me such complete information as was
drawn from him by the idea that he was doing
me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are I fancy
(35:29):
nearing the end of our quest, and the only point
which remains to be determined is whether we should go
on to this missus Oakshot tonight or whether we should
reserve it for tomorrow. It is clear from what that
surly fellow said that there are others beside ourselves, who
are anxious about the matter, and I should. His remarks
(35:50):
were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke
out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round,
we saw a little rat faced fellow standing in the
center of the circle of yellow light which was thrown
by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in
the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely
(36:10):
at the cringing figure. I've had enough of you and
your geese, he shouted. I wish you were all at
the Devil together. If you come pestering me any more
with your silly talk, I'll set the dog at you.
You bring Missus Oakshot here and I'll answer her. But
what have you to do with it? Did I buy
(36:32):
the geese off you? No? But one of them was
mine all the same, whined the little man. Well, then
asked Missus Oakshot for it. She told me to ask you. Well,
you can ask the King of Prussia for all I care.
I've had enough of it. Get out of this, he
(36:54):
rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. Ah,
this may save us a visit to Brixton Road, whispered Holmes.
Come with me and we will see what is to
be made of this fellow. Striding through the scattered knots
of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion
(37:16):
speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder.
He sprang round, and I could see in the gaslight
that every vestige of color had been driven from his face.
Who are you then? What do you want? He asked
in a quavering voice. You will excuse me, said Holmes blandly,
(37:38):
But I could not help overhearing the questions which you
put to the salesman. Just now, I think that I
could be of assistance to you. You who are you?
How could you know anything of the matter. My name
is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what
other people don't know. But you can know nothing of this.
(38:02):
Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavoring
to trace some geese which was sold by Missus Oakshott
of Brixton Road to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him
in turn to mister Windygate of the Alpha, and by
him to his club of which mister Henry Baker is
a member. Oh, sir, you are the very man which
(38:24):
I have longed to meet, cried the little fellow, with
outstretched hands and quivering fingers. I can hardly explain to
you how interested I am in this matter. Sherlock Holmes
hailed a four wheeler which was passing. In that case,
we had better discuss it in a cozy room rather
than in this windswept market place, said he. But pray
(38:47):
tell me before we go farther who it is that
I have the pleasure of assisting. The man hesitated for
an instant. My name is John Robinson, he answered, with
a sidelong glance. No, no, the real name, said Holmes sweetly.
It is always awkward doing business with an alias. A
(39:10):
flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. Well, then,
said he, My real name is James Ryder. Precisely so,
head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the
cab and I shall soon be able to tell you
everything which you would wish to know. The little man
(39:32):
stood glancing from one to the other of us with
half frightened, half hopeful eyes, as one who is not
sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall,
or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab,
and in half an hour we were back in the
sitting room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during
our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion,
(39:55):
and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands spoke of
the nervous town within him. Here we are, said Holmes cheerily,
as we filed into the room. The fire looks very
seasonable in this weather. You look cold, mister Rider. Pray
take the basket chair. I will just put on my
(40:15):
slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now,
then you want to know what became of those geese, yes, sir,
Or rather I fancy of that goose. It was one bird,
I imagine in which you were interested, white with a
black bar across the tail. Rider quivered with emotion. Oh, sir,
(40:40):
he cried, Can you tell me where it went to?
It came here here, Yes, and a most remarkable bird
it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an
interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead,
the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen.
(41:01):
I have it here in my museum. Our visitor staggered
to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand.
Holmes unlocked his strong box and held up the blue carbuncle,
which shone out like a star with a cold, brilliant,
many pointed radiance. Rider stood glaring with a drawn face,
(41:22):
uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. The game's up, Rider,
said Holmes quietly. Hold up, man, or you'll be into
the fire. Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson,
he's not got blood enough to go in for felony
with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy, so now
(41:44):
he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is,
to be sure. For a moment he had staggered and
nearly fallen, But the brandy brought a tinge of color
into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes
at his accuser. I have almost every link in my hands,
and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so
(42:06):
there is little which you need. Tell me still, that
little may as well be cleared up to make the
case complete. You had heard Rider of this blue stone,
of the Countess of more Cars. It was Catherine Cousac,
who told me of it. He said, in a cracking voice,
I see her ladyship's waiting maid. Well, the temptation of
(42:30):
sudden wealth, so easily acquired was too much for you,
as it has been for better men before you. But
you were not very scrupulous in the means you used.
It seems to me, Rider, that there is the making
of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that
this man Horner the plumber, had been concerned in some
such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more
(42:54):
readily upon him. What did you do? Then? You made
some small job in my lady room, you and your
confederate Cusack, and you managed that he should be the
man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled
the jewel case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate
man arrested you. Then Rider threw himself down suddenly upon
(43:18):
the rug and clutched at my companion's knees. For God's sake,
have mercy, he shrieked. Think of my father, of my mother.
It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before,
I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it
on a bible oh, don't bring it into court. For
(43:41):
Christ's sake. Don't get back into your chair, said Holmes sternly.
It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but
you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the
dock for a crime of which he knew nothing. I
will fly, mister Holmes. I will leave the country, sir.
Then the charge against him will break down. Hum, we
(44:05):
will talk about that, And now let us hear a
true account of the next act. How came the stone
into the goose, and how came the goose into the
open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your
only hope of safety. Rider passed his tongue over his
parched lips. I will tell you it just as it happened, sir,
(44:28):
said he. When Harner had been arrested, it seemed to
me that it would be best for me to get
away with a stone at once, for I did not
know it what moment the police might not take it
into their heads to search me and my room. There
was no place about the hotel where it would be safe.
I went out, as if on some commission, and I
(44:50):
made for my sister's house. She had married a man
named oak Shot and lived in Brixton Road, where she
fattened fowls for the market. All the way there, every
man I met seemed to me to be a policeman
or a detective. And for all that it was a
cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face. Before
(45:11):
I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me
what was the matter and why I was so pale.
But I told her that I had been upset by
the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into
the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what
it would be best to do. I had a friend
once called Maudsley, who went to the bad had as
(45:34):
just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he
had met me and fell into talk about the ways
of thieves and how they could get rid of what
they stole. I knew that he would be true to me,
for I knew one or two things about him. So
I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn,
where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He
(45:57):
would show me how to turn the stone into money,
but how to get to him in safety. I thought
of the agonies I had gone through in coming from
the hotel, I might at any moment be seized and searched,
and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket.
I was leaning against the wall at the time and
looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet,
(46:20):
and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed
me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.
My sister had told me some weeks before that I
might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present,
and I knew that she was always as good as
her word. I would take my goose now, and in
(46:40):
it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was
a little shed in the yard, and behind this I
drove one of the birds, a fine, big one, white
with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its
bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as
far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp,
(47:01):
and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and
down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled,
and out came my sister to know what was the matter.
As I turned to speak to her, the brute broke
loose and fluttered off among the others. Whatever were you
doing with that bird, Jim, says she. Well, says I.
(47:24):
You said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I
was feeling which was the fattest, Oh, says she. We've
set yours aside for you, Jem's bird. We call it.
It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty six
of them, which makes one for you and one for us,
and two dozen for the market. Thank you, Maggie, says I.
(47:48):
But if it is all the same to you, I'd
rather have that one I was handling just now. The
other is a good three pound heavier, said she, And
we fattened it expressly for you. Never mind, I'll have
the other, and I'll take it now, said I. Oh,
just as you like, said she a little huffed. Which
(48:11):
is it you want, then, that white one with the
barred tail right in the middle of the flock, Oh,
very well, kill it and take it with you. Well.
I did what she said, mister Holmes, and I carried
the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my
pal what I had done, for he was a man
that it was easy to tell a thing like that too.
(48:33):
He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife
and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for
there was no sign of the stone, and I knew
that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird,
rushed back to my sisters, and hurried into the back yard.
There was not a bird to be seen there. Where
(48:54):
are they all, Maggie, I cried, gone to the dealer's jem,
which dealer breakin ridge of Covent Garden? But was there
another with a barred tail? I asked, the same as
the one I chose. Yes, jem, there were two bard
tailed ones, and I never could tell them apart. Well, then,
(49:16):
of course I saw it all, and I ran off
as hard as my feet would carry me to this
man Breckinridge. But he had sold the lot at once,
and not one word would he tell me as to
where they had gone. You hurt him yourselves tonight. Well
he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks
that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I
(49:39):
am myself, and now I am myself a branded thief
without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold
my character. God help me, God help me. He burst
into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.
(50:00):
Was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing
and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes's finger tips
upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose
and threw open the door. Get out, said he what sir, Oh,
Heaven bless you. No more words. Get out, And no
(50:22):
more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter
upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the
crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street. After all, Watson,
said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe.
I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies.
(50:43):
If Horner were in danger, it would be another thing.
But this fellow will not appear against him, and the
case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony,
but it is just possible that I am saving a soul.
This fellow will not go wrong again. He is too
terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you will
(51:04):
make him a jail bird for life. Besides, it is
the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way
a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is
its own reward. If you will have the goodness to
touch the bell. Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in
which also a bird will be the chief feature and
(51:29):
of adventure. Seven
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