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May 15, 2025 • 43 mins
Dive into the final volume of Arthur Conan Doyles detective stories, where he bids a heartfelt farewell to his most renowned creation - Sherlock Holmes. These eclectic tales span different stages of Holmess life, including his retirement, and are narrated from varying perspectives, including Watson, Holmes, and an omnipotent narrator. While many stories showcase Holmess famed deductive reasoning, others highlight lesser-known aspects of his character, such as his compassion, empathy, and sense of humor. His rapport with Dr. Watson, while occasionally blunt, is marked by kindness, affection, and professional respect, painting a portrait of a profound and intricate friendship that captivates readers. (Summary by T. A. Copeland).
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Section nine of the case Book of Sherlock Holmes by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the
public domain. Read by Thomas Copeland, Story nine, The Adventure
of the Lion's Main. It is a most singular thing
that a problem which was certainly as substruse and unusual

(00:22):
as any which I have faced in my long professional career,
should have come to me after my retirement, and be brought,
as it were, to my very door. It occurred after
my withdrawal to my little Sussex home, when I had
given myself up entirely to that soothing life of nature
for which I had so often yearned during the long
years spent amid the gloom of London. At this period

(00:46):
of my life, the good Watson had passed almost beyond
my ken. An occasional week end visit was the most
that I ever saw of him. Thus I must act
as my own chronicler. Ah had he but been with me,
how much he might have made of so wonderful a
happening and of my eventual triumph against every difficulty. As

(01:08):
it is, However, I must needs tell my tale in
my own plain way, showing by my words each step
upon the difficult road which lay before me as I
searched for the mystery of the Lion's main. My villa
is situated upon the southern slope of the Downs, commanding
a great view of the channel. At this point, the

(01:30):
coast line is entirely of chalk cliffs, which can only
be descended by a single, long, tortuous path, which is
steep and slippery. At the bottom of the path lie
a hundred yards of pebbles and shingle, even when the
tide is at full. Here and there, however, there are
curves and hollows which make splendid swimming pools, filled afresh

(01:53):
with each floe. This admirable beach extends for some miles
in each direction, save only at one point, where the
little cove and village of Fulworth break the line. My
house is lonely, I, my old housekeeper, and my bees
have the estate all to ourselves. Half a mile off, however,

(02:14):
is Harold Stackhurst's well known coaching establishment, the Gables, quite
a large place which contained some score of young fellows
preparing for various professions, with a staff of several masters.
Stackhurst himself was a well known rowing blue in his day,
and an excellent all round scholar. He and I were
always friendly from the day I came to the coast,

(02:37):
and he was the one man who was on such
terms with me that we could drop in on each
other in the evenings without an invitation. Towards the end
of July nineteen o seven, there was a severe gale,
the wind blowing up channel, heaping the seas to the
base of the cliffs and leaving a lagoon at the
turn of the tide. On the morning of which I speak,

(02:59):
the wind had a bay, and all nature was newly
washed and fresh. It was impossible to work upon so
delightful a day, and I strolled out before breakfast to
enjoy the exquisite air. I walked along the cliff path
which led to the steep descent to the beach. As
I walked, I heard a shout behind me, and there

(03:20):
was Harold Stackhurst waving his hand in cheery greeting, What
a morning, mister Holmes. I thought I should see you
out going for a swim. I see at your old
tricks again, he laughed, patting his bulging pocket. Yes, mac
Pherson started early, and I expect I may find him
there Fitzroy mac Pherson was the science Master, a fine

(03:44):
upstanding young fellow whose life had been crippled by heart
trouble following rheumatic fever. He was a natural athlete, however,
and excelled in every game which did not throw too
great a strain upon him. Summer and winter he went
for his swim, and as I am a swimmer myself,
I have often joined him. At this moment we saw

(04:05):
the man himself. His head showed above the edge of
the cliff where the path ends. Then his whole figure
appeared at the top, staggering like a drunken man. The
next instant he threw up his hands and with a
terrible cry, fell upon his face. Stackhurst and I rushed
forward it may have been fifty yards, and turned him

(04:26):
on his back. He was obviously dying. Those glazed, sunken
eyes and dreadful, livid cheeks could mean nothing else. One
glimmer of life came into his face for an instant,
and he uttered two or three words with an eager
air of warning. They were slurred and indistinct, But to
my ear, the last of them, which burst in a
shriek from his lips, were the lion's man. It was

(04:50):
utterly irrelevant and unintelligible, and yet I could twist the
sound into no other sense. Then he half raised himself
from the ground, threw his arms in through the air,
and fell forward on his side. It was dead. My
companion was paralyzed by the sudden horror of it, And I,

(05:11):
as may well be imagined, had every sense on the alert,
and I had need, for it was speedily evident that
we were in the presence of an extraordinary case. The
man was dressed only in his berbery overcoat, his trousers,
and an unlaced pair of canvas shoes. As he fell over,
his berbery, which had been simply thrown round his shoulders,

(05:33):
slipped off, exposing his trunk. We stared at it in amazement.
His back was covered with dark red lines, as though
he had been terribly flogged by a thin wire scourge.
The instrument with which this punishment had been inflicted was
clearly flexible, for the long, angry wheels curved round his

(05:53):
shoulders and ribs. There was blood dripping down his chin,
for he had bitten through his lower lip. In the
paroxys of his agony, his drawn, distorted face told how
terrible that agony had been. I was kneeling and Stackhurst
standing by the body, when a shadow fell across us,
and we found that Ian Murdoch was by our side.

(06:15):
Murdoch was the mathematical coach at the establishment, A tall, dark,
thin man, so taciturn and aloof that none can be
said to have been his friend. He seemed to live
in some high, abstract region of surgs and conic sections,
with little to connect him with ordinary life. He was
looked upon as an oddity by the students, and would

(06:38):
have been their butt. But there was some strange, outlandish
blood in the man, which showed itself not only in
his coal black eyes and swoly face, but also in
occasional outbreaks of temper which could only be described as ferocious.
On one occasion, being plagued by a little dog belonging
to mac Pherson, he had caught the creature up and

(07:00):
hurled it through the plate glass window, an action for
which Stackhurst would certainly have given him his dismissal had
he not been a very valuable teacher. Such was the strange,
complex man who now appeared beside us. He seemed to
be honestly shocked at the sight before him, and though
the incident of the dog may show that there was
no great sympathy between the dead man and himself. Poor fellow,

(07:25):
poor fellow, What can I do? How can I help?
Were you with him? Can you tell us what has happened? No, No,
I was late this morning. I was not on the
beach at Hall. I have come straight from the gables.
What can I do? You can hurry to the police
station at Fulworth report the matter at once. Without a word,

(07:47):
he made off at top speed, and I proceeded to
take the matter in hand, while Stackhurst, dazed at this tragedy,
remained by the body. My first task, naturally, was to
note who was on the beach. From the top of
the path, I could see the whole sweep of it,
and it was absolutely deserted, save that two or three
dark figures could be seen far away, moving towards the

(08:10):
village of Fulworth. Having satisfied myself upon this point, I
walked slowly down the path. There was clay or soft
marl mixed with the chalk, and ever here and there
I saw the same footstep, both ascending and descending. No
one else had gone down to the beach by this
track that morning. At one place I observed the print

(08:31):
of an open hand with the fingers towards the incline.
This could only mean that poor mac Pherson had fallen
as he ascended. There were rounded depressions, too, which suggested
that he had come down upon his knees more than once.
At the bottom of the path was the considerable lagoon
left by the retreating tide. At the sight of it,

(08:53):
mac Pherson had undressed, for there lay his towel on
a rock. It was folded and dry, so that it
would seem that, after all he had never entered the water.
Once or twice. As I hunted round him in the
hard shingle, I came on little patches of sand where
the print of his canvas shoe and also of his
naked foot could be seen. The latter fact proved that

(09:16):
he had made ready to bathe, though the towel indicated
that he had not actually done so. And here was
the problem clearly defined as strange a one as has
ever confronted me. The man had not been on the
beach more than a quarter of an hour at the most.
Stackhurst had followed him from the gables, so there could
be no doubt about that he had gone to bathe

(09:39):
and had stripped, as the naked footsteps showed. Then he
had suddenly huddled on his clothes again, they were all disheveled, unfastened,
and he had returned without bathing, or at any rate,
without drying himself. And the reason for his change of
purpose had been that he had been scourged in some
savage in human fashion, tortured until he bit his lip

(10:01):
through in his agony, and was left with only strength
enough to crawl away and to die. Who had done
this barbarous deed? There worried, is true, small grottos and
caves in the base of the cliffs, but the low
sun shone directly into them, and there was no place
for concealment. Then again there were those distant figures on

(10:23):
the beach. They seemed too far away to have been
connected with the crime. And the broad lagoon in which
mac Pherson had intended to bathe lay between him and them,
lapping up to the rocks on the sea. Two or
three fishing boats were at no great distance. Their occupants
might be examined at our leisure. There were several roads

(10:45):
for inquiry, but none which led to any very obvious goal.
When I at last returned to the body, I found
that a little group of wandering folk had gathered round it.
Stackhurst was of course still there, and Ian Murdock had
just arrived with Anderson. The village constable, a big, ginger
mustached man of the slow, solid Sussex breed, a breed

(11:08):
which covers much good sense under a heavy, silent exterior.
He listened to everything, took note of all we said,
and finally drew me aside. I'd be glad of your advice,
mister Holmes. This is a big thing for me to handle,
and I'll hear it from loose or I go wrong.
I advised him to send for his immediate superior and

(11:28):
for a doctor. Also to allow nothing to be moved,
and as few fresh footmarks as possible to be made
until they came. In the meantime, I searched the dead
man's pockets. There were his handkerchief, a large knife, and
a small folding card case. From this projected a slip
of paper, which I unfolded and handed to the constable.

(11:51):
There was written on it in a scrawling feminine hand,
I will be there. You may be sure Maudy. It
read like a lover an assignation, though when and where
were a blank. The constable replaced it in the card
case and returned it with the other things to the
pockets of the berbery. Then, as nothing more suggested itself,

(12:14):
I walked back to my house for breakfast, having first
arranged that the base of the cliffs should be thoroughly searched.
Stackhurst was round in an hour or two to tell
me that the body had been removed to the gables,
where the inquest would be held. He brought with him
some serious and definite news. As I expected, nothing had

(12:34):
been found in the small caves below the cliff, but
he had examined the papers in mac Pherson's desk, and
there were several which showed an intimate correspondence with a
certain miss maud Bellamy a Fulworth. We had then established
the identity of the writer of the note. The police
have the letters, he explained, I could not bring them,

(12:56):
but there is no doubt that it was a serious
love affair. I I see no reason, however, to connect
it with that horrible happening, save indeed, that the lady
had made an appointment with him, But hardly at a
bathing pool, which all of you were in the habit
of using. I remarked, it is mere chance, said he,
that several of the students were not with mc pherson.

(13:18):
Was it mere chance? Stackhurst knit his brows in thought
eat Murdoch held them back, said he he would insist
upon some algebraic demonstration before breakfast. Poor chap. He is
dreadfully cut up about it all. And yet I gather
that they were not friends at one time they were not,

(13:40):
But for a year or more Murdoch has been as
near to mac Pherson as he ever could be to
any one. He is not of a very sympathetic disposition
by nature. So I understand. I seem to remember your
telling me once about a quarrel over the ill usage
of a dog that blew over all right, but left
some vindictive feeling. Perhaps, No, No, I am sure they

(14:04):
were real friends. Well, then we must explore the matter
of the girl. Do you know her? Every one knows her.
She is the beauty of the neighborhood, of real beauty holmes,
who would draw attention everywhere. I knew that mac Pherson
was attracted by her, but I had no notion that
it had gone so far as these letters would seem

(14:25):
to indicate. But who is she? She is the daughter
of old Tom Bellamy, who owns all the boots and
bathing cots at Fulworth. He was of fisherman to start with,
but is now a man of some substance. He and
his son William run the business. Shall we walk to
Fulworth and see them? On what pretext? Oh? We can

(14:45):
easily find a pretext. After all, this man did not
ill use himself in this outrageous way. Some human hand
was on the handle of that scourge. If indeed it
was a scourge which inflicted the injuries. His circle of
a quince in this lonely place was surely limited. Let
us follow it up in every direction, and we can

(15:06):
hardly fail to come upon the motive which in turn
should lead us to the criminal. It would have been
a pleasant walk across the time scentered downs, had our
minds not been poisoned by the tragedy we had witnessed.
The village of Fulworth lies in a hollow curving in
a semicircle round the bay. Behind the old fashioned hamlet.

(15:26):
Several modern houses have been built upon the rising ground.
It was to one of these that Stackhurst guided me.
That's the haven, as Bellamy called it, the one with
the corner tower and slate roof. Not bad for a
man who started with nothing. But by Jove, look at
that the garden gate of the haven had opened and

(15:46):
a man had emerged. There was no mistaking that tall, angular,
straggling figure. It was Ian Murdock, the mathematician. A moment
later we confronted him upon the road, Hullo, said Stackhard.
The man nodded, gave us a sideways glance from his
curious dark eyes, and would have passed us, but his

(16:06):
principal pulled him up. What are you doing there, he asked.
Murdock's face flushed with anger. I am your subordinate, sir,
under your roof. I am not aware that I owe
you any account of my private actions. Stackhurst's nerves were
near the surface. After all, he had endured. Otherwise, perhaps

(16:28):
he would have waited. Now he lost his temper completely
in the circumstances. Your answer is pure impertinence, mister Menlock.
Your own question might perhaps come under the same heading.
This is not the first time that I have had
to overlook your insubordinate ways. It will certainly be the last,

(16:50):
you will kindly make fresh arrangements for your future as
speedily as you can. I had intended to do so,
I have lost to day the only person who made
the gables habitable. He strode off upon his way, while Stackhurst,
with angry eyes, stood glaring after him. Is he not
an impossible, intolerable man? He cried. The one thing that

(17:14):
impressed itself forcibly upon my mind was that mister Ian
Murdock was taking the first chance to open a path
of escape from the scene of the crime. Suspicion, vague
and nebulous, was now beginning to take outline in my mind.
Perhaps the visit to the Bellamies might throw some further
light upon the matter. Stackhurst pulled himself together and we

(17:36):
went forward to the house. Mister Bellamy proved to be
a middle aged man with a flaming red beard. He
seemed to be in a very angry mood, and his
face was soon as florid as his hair. No, Sir,
I do not desire any particulars my son here indicating
a powerful young man with a heavy sullen face in

(17:57):
the corner of the sitting room. Is a one mind
with me that mister mac Pherson's attentions to Maud were insulting. Yes, sir,
the word marriage was never mentioned, and yet there were
letters and meetings and a great deal more of which
neither of us could approve. She has no mother, and
we are her only guardians. We are determined. But the

(18:20):
words were taken from his mouth by the appearance of
the lady herself. There was no gainsaying that she would
have graced any assembly in the world. Who could have
imagined that so rare a flower would grow from such
a root and in such an atmosphere. Women have seldom
been an attraction to me, for my brain has always
governed my heart. But I could not look upon her perfect,

(18:43):
clear cut face, with all the soft freshness of the
Downlands in her delicate coloring, without realizing that no young
man would cross her path unscathed. Such was the girl
who had pushed open the door and stood now wide
eyed and intense in front of Harold Stackhurst. I know
already that Fitzroy is dead, she said, do not be

(19:06):
afraid to tell me the particulars this other gentleman of yours.
Let us know the news, explained the father. There is
no reason why my sister should be brought into the matter,
growled the younger man. The sister turned a sharp, fierce
look upon him. This is my business. William, kindly leave
me to manage it in my own way. By all accounts,

(19:27):
there has been a crime committed. If I can help
to show who did it, it is the least I
can do for him who is gone. She listened to
a short account from my companion with a composed concentration,
which showed me that she possessed strong character as well
as great beauty. Maud Bellamy will always remain in my
memory as a most complete and remarkable woman. It seems

(19:50):
that she already knew me by sight, for she turned
to me at the end, bring them to justice, mister Holmes,
you have my sympathy and my help, whoever they be.
It seemed to me that she glanced defiantly at her
father and brother as she spoke. Thank you, said I
I value a woman's instinct in such matters. You use

(20:11):
the word they, you think that more than one was concerned.
I knew mister mac Pherson well enough to be aware
that he was a brave and a strong man. No
single person could ever have inflicted such an outrage upon him.
But I have one word with you alone. I tell you, Maud,
not to mix yourself up in the matter, cried her

(20:32):
father angrily. She looked at me helplessly. What can I do?
The whole world will know the facts presently, so there
can be no harm if I discussed them here, said I.
I should have preferred privacy, but if your father will
not allow it, he must share the deliberations. Then I
spoke of the note which had been found in the

(20:53):
dead man's pocket. It is sure to be produced at
the inquest. May I ask you to throw any light
upon it that you can. I see no reason for mystery,
she answered. We were engaged to be married, and we
only kept it secret because Fitzroy's uncle, who is very
old and said to be dying, might have disinherited him

(21:14):
if he had married against his wish. There was no
other reason you could have told us, growled mister Bellamy.
So I would father, if you had ever shown sympathy.
I object to my girl picking up with men outside
her own station. It was your prejudice against him which
prevented us from telling you as to this appointment. She

(21:36):
fumbled in her dress and produced a crumpled note. It
was in answer to this. Dearest ran the message the
old place on the beach just after sunset on Tuesday.
It is the only time I can get away f M.
Tuesday was to day, and I had meant to meet
him to night. I turned over the paper. This never

(21:58):
came by post. How did you get it? I would
rather not answer that question. It has really nothing to
do with the matter which you are investigating. But anything
which bears upon that I will most freely answer. She
was as good as her word, but there was nothing
which was helpful to our investigation. She had no reason

(22:18):
to think that her fiance had any hidden enemy, but
she admitted that she had several warm admirers. May I
ask if mister Ian Murdock was one of them? She
blushed and seemed confused. There was a time when I
thought he was, but that was all changed when he
understood the relations between Fitzroy and myself. Again, the shadow

(22:40):
round this strange man seemed to me to be taking
more definite shape. His record must be examined, his rooms
must be privately searched. Stackhurst was a willing collaborator, for
in his mind also suspicions were forming. We returned from
our visit to the Haven with the hope that one
free end of this tangled skein was already in our hands.

(23:03):
A week passed, the inquest had thrown no light upon
the matter, and had been adjourned for further evidence. Stackhurst
had made discreet inquiry about his subordinate, and there had
been a superficial search of his room, but without result. Personally,
I had gone over the whole ground again, both physically
and mentally, but with no new conclusions. In all my chronicles,

(23:27):
the reader will find no case which brought me so
completely to the limit of my powers. Even my imagination
could conceive no solution to the mystery. And then there
came the incident of the dog. It was my old
housekeeper who heard of at first by that strange wireless
by which such people collect the news of the countryside.

(23:48):
Sad story this, sir, about mister mc pherson's dog, said
she one evening. I do not encourage such conversations, but
the words arrested my attention. What of mister mc pherson's dog, dead, sir,
died of brief for its master? Who told you this?
Why sir, everyone is talking of it? It took on

(24:08):
terrible and has eaten nothing for a week. Then to
day two of the young gentlemen from the gables found
it dead down on the beach, Sir, at the very
place where its master met his end, At the very place.
The words stood out clear in my memory. Some dim
perception that the matter was vital rose in my mind.

(24:33):
That the dog should die was after the beautiful, faithful
nature of dogs. But in the very place. Why should
this lonely beach be fatal to it? Was it possible
that it also had been sacrificed to some vengeful feud?
Was it possible? Yes, the perception was dim, but already

(24:55):
something was building up in my mind. In a few
minutes I was on my way to the gable, where
I found Stackhurst in his study. At my request, he
sent for Sudbury and Blunt, the two students who had
found the dog. Yes, it lay on the very edge
of the pool, said one of them. It must have
followed the trail of its dead master. I saw the
faithful little creature, an airedale terrier, laid out upon the

(25:18):
mat in the hall. The body was stiff and rigid,
its eyes projecting, and the limbs contorted. There was agony
in every line of it. From the gables, I walked
down to the bathing pool. The sun had sunk, and
the shadow of the great cliff lay black across the water,
which glimmered dully like a sheet of lead. The place

(25:40):
was deserted, and there was no sign of life save
for two sea birds circling and screaming overhead. In the
fading light, I could dimly make out the little dog's
spoor upon the sand, round the very rock on which
his master's towel had been laid. For a long time,
I stood in deep meditation while the shadows grew darker
around me. My mind was filled with racing thoughts. You

(26:05):
have known what it was to be in a nightmare,
in which you feel that there is some all important
thing for which you search, and which you know is there,
though it remains forever just beyond your reach. That was
how I felt that evening, as I stood alone by
that place of death. Then at last I turned and
walked slowly homewards. I had just reached the top of

(26:25):
the path when it came to me like a flash.
I remembered the thing for which I had so eagerly
and vainly grasped, you will know, or Watson has written
in vain that I hold a vast store of out
of the way knowledge, without scientific system, but very available
for the needs of my work. My mind is like
a crowded box room with packets of all sorts stowed away.

(26:47):
Therein so many that I may well have but a
vague perception of what was there. I had known that
there was something which might bear upon this matter. It
was still vague, but at least I knew how I
could make it clear. It was monstrous, incredible, and yet
it was always a possibility I would test it to

(27:07):
the full. There is a great garret in my little
house which is stuffed with books. It was into this
that I plunged and rummaged for an hour. At the
end of that time I emerged with a little chocolate
and silver volume. Eagerly I turned up the chapter of
which I had a dim remembrance. Yes, it was indeed

(27:28):
a far fetched and unlikely proposition, and yet I could
not be at rest until I had made sure if
it might indeed be so. It was late when I retired,
with my mind eagerly awaiting the work of the morrow.
But that work met with an annoying interruption. I had
hardly swallowed my early cup of tea and was starting

(27:48):
for the beach when I heard a call from Inspector
Bardy of the Sussex Constabulary, a steady, solid bovine man
with thoughtful eyes, which looked at me now with a
very troubled expression. I know your immense experience, sir, said he.
This is quite unofficial, of course, and need go no farther.

(28:09):
But I am fairly up against it. In this mac
Pherson case, the question is shall I make an arrest
or shall I not? Meaning mister Ian Murdock. Yes, sir,
there is really no one else when you come to
think of it. That's the advantage of this solitude. We
narrow it down to a very small compass. If he

(28:30):
did not do it, then who did? What have you
against him? He had gleaned along the same furrows as
I had. There was Murdoch's character, and the mystery which
seemed to hang round the man, his furious bursts of
temper as shown in the incident of the dog, the
fact that he had quarreled with mac Pherson in the past,

(28:51):
and that there was some reason to think that he
might have resented his attentions to Miss Bellamy. He had
all my points, but no fresh ones save that Murdoch
seemed to me making every preparation for departure. What would
my position be if I let him slip away? With
all this evidence against him? The burly phlegmatic man was
sorely troubled in his mind. Consider, I said, all the

(29:15):
essential gaps in your case on the morning of the crime.
He can surely prove an alibi. He had been with
his scholars till the last moment, and within a few
minutes in mac Pherson's appearance, he came upon us from behind.
Then bear in mind the absolute impossibility that he could
single handed have inflicted this outrage upon a man quite

(29:35):
as strong as himself. Finally, there is this question of
the instrument with which these injuries were inflicted. What could
it be but a scourge or flexible whip of such sort.
Have you examined the marks, I asked. I have seen them,
so is the doctor. But I have examined them very

(29:56):
carefully with a lens. They have peculiarity. What are there,
mister Holmes? I stepped to my bureau and brought out
an enlarged photograph. This is my method in such cases,
I explained. You certainly do things thoroughly, mister Holmes. I
should hardly be what I am if I did not. Now,
let us consider this wheel which extends round the right shoulder.

(30:21):
Do you observe nothing remarkable? I can't say I do.
Surely it is evident that it is unequal in its intensity.
There is a dot of extravasated blood here, and another there.
There are similar indications in this other wheel down here.
What can that mean? I have no idea? Have you?

(30:45):
Perhaps I have? Perhaps I haven't. I may be able
to say more soon. Anything which will define what made
that mark will bring us a long way towards the criminal.
It is, of course an absurd idea, said the policeman.
But if a red hot net of wire had been
laid across the back, then these better marked points would

(31:07):
represent where the meshes crossed each other. A most ingenious comparison,
or shall we say, a very stiff catenine tails with
small hard knots upon it. By jove, mister Holmes, I
think you have hid it. Or there may be some
very different cause, mister Bardey, But your case is far

(31:28):
too weak for an arrest. Besides, we have those last
words lions main. I have wondered whether ian. Yes, I
have considered that if the second word had borne any
resemblance to Murdock. But it did not. He gave it
almost in a shriek. I am sure that it was main.

(31:51):
Have you no alternative, mister Holmes? Perhaps I have, but
I do not care to discuss it until there is
something more solid to discuss. And when will that be?
In an hour possibly less. The inspector rubbed his chin
and looked at me with dubious eyes. I wish I
could see what was in your mind, mister Holmes. Perhaps

(32:13):
it's those fishing boats. No, no, they were too far out. Well,
then is it Bellamy and that big son of his?
They were not too sweet upon mister mc pherson. Could
they have done them a mischief? No, No, you won't
draw me until I'm ready, said I with a smile. Now, Inspector,
we each have our own work to do. Perhaps if

(32:35):
you were to meet me here at midday, so far
we had got when there came the tremendous interruption, which
was the beginning of the end. My outer door was
flung open. There were blundering footsteps in the passage, and
Ian Murdock staggered into the room, pallid, disheveled, his clothes
in wild disorder, clawing with his bony hands at the

(32:56):
furniture to hold himself erect Brandy, Brandy, he gasped and
fell groaning upon the sofa. He was not alone. Behind
him came Stackhurst, hatless and panting, almost as distray as
his companion. Yes, Yes, Brandy, he cried. The man is
at his last gasp. It was all I could do
to bring him here. He fainted twice upon the way,

(33:19):
half a tumbler of the raw spirit brought about a
wondrous change. He pushed himself up on one arm and
swung his coat from off his shoulders. For God's sake,
oil opian morphia. He cried, anything to ease this infernal agony.
The inspector and I cried out at the sight. There,

(33:39):
criss crossed upon the man's naked shoulder was the same strange,
reticulated pattern of red inflamed lines which had been the
death mark of its swerman person. The pain was evidently
terrible and was more than local, for the sufferer's breathing
would stop for a time, his face would turn black,
and then, with loud gas asps, he would clap his

(34:01):
hand to his heart while his brow dropped beads of sweat.
At any moment he might die, More and more brandy
was poured down his throat, each fresh dose bringing him
back to life. Pads of cotton wool soaked in salad
oil seemed to take the agony from the strange wounds.
At last, his head fell heavily upon the cushion. Exhausted

(34:22):
nature had taken refuge in its last storehouse of vitality.
It was half asleep and half a faint, but at
least it was ease from pain. To question him had
been impossible. But the moment we were assured of his condition,
Stackers turned upon me, My gad, He cried, what is it, Holmes,
what is it? Where did you find him? Down on

(34:44):
the beach, exactly where poor mac Pherson met his end.
If this man's heart had been as weak as mac
Pherson's was, he would not be here now more than once.
I thought he was gone. As I brought him up,
it was too far to the gable, so I made
for you. Did you see him on the beach? I
was walking on the cliff when I heard his cry.

(35:04):
He was at the edge of the water, reeling about
like a drunken man. I ran down, threw some clothes
about him, and brought him up. For Heaven's sake, Holmes,
use all the powers you have and spare no pains
to lift the curse from this place. For life is
becoming unendurable. Can you, with all your world wide reputation,
do nothing for us? I think I can. Stackhurst come

(35:27):
with me now, and you Inspector come along. We will
see if we cannot deliver this murderer into your hands.
Leaving the unconscious man in the charge of my housekeeper,
we all three went down to the deadly lagoon. On
the shingle there was piled a little heap of towels
and clothes left by the stricken man. Slowly I walked

(35:48):
round the edge of the water, my comrades an Indian
file behind me. Most of the pool was quite shallow,
but under the cliff, where the beach was hollowed out,
it was four or five feet deep. It was to
this part that a swimmer would naturally go, for it
formed a beautiful, pellucid green pool, as clear as crystal.
A line of rocks lay above it at the base

(36:10):
of the cliff, and along this I led the way,
peering eagerly into the depths beneath me. I had reached
the deepest and stillest pool when my eyes caught that
for which they were searching, and I burst into a
shout of triumph. Siania, I cried, Siania, behold the lion's mane.
The strange object at which I pointed did indeed look

(36:33):
like a tangled mass torn from the mane of a lion.
It lay upon a rocky shelf some three feet under
the water, A curious, waving, vibrating, hairy creature with streaks
of silver among its yellow tresses. It pulsated with a slow,
heavy dilation and contraction. It has done mischief enough. Its

(36:54):
day is over, I cried, help misst Ackhurst, Let us
end the murderer forever. There was a big bowler just
above the ledge, and we pushed it until it fell
with a tremendous splash into the water. When the ripples
had cleared, we saw that it had settled upon the ledge. Below.
One flapping edge of yellow membrane showed that our victim

(37:15):
was beneath it. A thick oily scum oozed out from
below the stone and stained the water around, rising slowly
to the surface. Well this gets me, cried the inspector.
What was it, mister Holmes. I'm bored and bred in
these parts, but i never saw such a thing. It
don't belong to Sussex. Just as well for Sussex, I remarked,

(37:38):
it may have been the southwest gale that brought it up.
Come back to my house, both of you, and I
will give you the terrible experience of one who has
good reason to remember his own meeting with the same
peril of the seas. When we reached my study, we
found that Murdoch was so far recovered that he could
sit up. He was dazed in mind, and every now

(37:59):
and then was shaken by a paroxysm of pain. In
broken words, he explained that he had no notion what
had occurred to him, save that terrific pangs had suddenly
shot through him, and that it had taken all his
fortitude to reach the bank. Here is a book, I said,
taking up the little volume which first brought light into
what might have been forever dark. It is out of

(38:22):
doors by the famous observer J. G. Wood Wood himself
very nearly perished from contact with this vile creature. So
he wrote, with a very full knowledge, Cyania capillta is
the miscreant's full name, and he can be as dangerous
to life as and far more painful than the bite
of the cobra. Let me briefly give this extract. Quote.

(38:46):
If the bather should see a loose, roundish mass of
tawny membranes and fibers, something like very large handfuls of
lion's mane and silver paper, let him beware, for this
is the fearful stinger Cyania capillta. Unquote. Could our sinister
acquaintance be more clearly described. He goes on to tell

(39:08):
his own encounter with one, when swimming off the coast
of Kent. He found that the creature radiated almost invisible
filaments to the distance of fifty feet, and that any
one within that circumference from the deadly center was in
danger of death. Even at a distance. The effect upon
Wood was almost fatal. Quote. The multitudinous threads caused light

(39:30):
scarlet lines upon the skin, which on closer examination resolved
into minute dots or pustules. Each dot charged as it were,
with a red hot needle making its way through the
nerves unquote. The local pain was, as he explains, the
least part of the exquisite torment quote, fang shot through

(39:51):
the chest, causing me to fall as if struck by
a bullet. The pulsation would cease, and then the heart
would give six or seven leaps, as if it would
force its way through the chest. And it nearly killed him,
although he had only been exposed to it in the
disturbed ocean, and not in the narrow, calm waters of
a bathing pool. He says that he could hardly recognize

(40:13):
himself afterwards, so white, wrinkled and shriveled was his face.
He gulped down brandy, a whole bottleful, and it seems
to have saved his life. There is the book, Inspector.
I leave it with you, and you cannot doubt that
it contains a full explanation of the tragedy of poor
mac Pherson, and incidentally exonerates me, remarked Ian Murdock, with

(40:34):
a wry smile. I do not blame you, Inspector, nor
you mister Holmes, for your suspicions were natural. I feel
that on the very eve of my arrest. I have
only cleared myself by sharing the fate of my poor friend. No,
mister Murdock, I was already upon the track, and had
I been out as early as I intended, I might
well have saved you from this terrific experience. But how

(40:58):
did you know, mister Holmes. I am an omnivorous reader
with a strangely retentive memory for trifles. That phrase Lion's
Man haunted my mind. I knew that I had seen
it somewhere in an unexpected context. You have seen that
it does describe the creature. I have no doubt that
it was floating on the water when mc pherson saw it,

(41:20):
and that this phrase was the only one by which
he could convey to us a warning as to the
creature which had been his death. Then I at least
am cleared, said Murdoch, rising slowly to his feet. There
are one or two words of explanation which I should give,
for I know the direction in which your inquiries have run.
It is true that I loved this lady, but from

(41:41):
the day when she chose my friend mac Pherson, my
one desire was to help her to happiness. I was
well content to stand aside and act as their go between.
Often I carried their messages, and it was because I
was in their confidence, and because she was so dear
to me that I hastened to tell her of my
friend's death, lest some one should forestall me in a

(42:02):
more sudden and heartless manner. She would not tell you, sir,
of our relations, lest you should disapprove, and I might suffer.
But with your leave, I must try to get back
to the gables, for my bed will be very welcome.
Stackhurst held out his hand. Our nerves have all been
at concert, pitch said he forgive what is past, Murdoch.

(42:25):
We shall understand each other better in the future. They
passed out together with their arms linked in friendly fashion.
The inspector remained staring at me in silence with his
ox like eyes. Well you've done it, he cried at last.
I had read of you, but I never believed it.
It's wonderful. I was forced to shake my head. To

(42:47):
accept such praise was to lower one's own standards. I
was slow at the outset, culpably slow. Had the body
been found in the water, I could hardly have missed it.
It was the towel, which misled me. The poor fellow
had never thought to dry himself, and so I, in turn,
was led to believe that he had never been in

(43:07):
the water. Why then, should the attack of any water
creature suggest itself to me? That was where I went astray. Farewell, Inspector.
I often ventured to chaff you, gentlemen of the police force.
But Ciania Capillta very nearly avenged Scotland Yard. The end

(43:28):
of the adventure of the Lion's main
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