June 9, 2025 • 45 mins
Dive into the riveting world of the legendary detective, Sherlock Holmes, in this second compilation of short stories penned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Explore 12 enthralling adventures, serialized in The Strand from December 1892 to December 1893, each masterfully illustrated by Sidney Paget. Join Holmes and his faithful companion, Dr. Watson, as they unravel the mysteries that baffle Londons finest. - Summary by David Clarke
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Adventure eight in the Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Adventure eight. The resident patient. Glancing over the somewhat incoherent
series of memoirs with which I have endeavored to illustrate
a few of the mental peculiarities of my friend mister
(00:21):
Sherlock Holmes, I have been struck by the difficulty which
I have experienced in picking out examples which shall in
every way answer my purpose. For in those cases in
which Holmes has performed some toward a force of analytical reasoning,
and has demonstrated the value of his peculiar methods of investigation,
the facts themselves have often been so slight or so commonplace,
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that I could not feel justified in laying them before
the public. On the other hand, it has frequently happened
that he has been concerned in some research where the
facts have been of the most remarkable and dramatic character,
but where the share which he has himself taken in
determining their causes has been less pronounced than I, as
his biographer, could wish. The small matter which I have
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chronicled under the heading of a study in Scarlet, and
that other later one connected with the loss of the
glorious Scott, may serve as examples of this scylla and charybdis,
which are forever threatening the historian. It may be that,
in the business of which I am now about to write,
the part which my friend played is not sufficiently accentuated.
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And yet the whole train of circumstances is so remarkable
that I cannot bring myself to omit it entirely from
this series. It had been a close, rainy day in October.
Our blinds were half drawn, and homes lay curled upon
the sofa, reading and rereading a letter which he had
received by the morning post. For myself, my term of
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service in India had trained me to stand heat better
than cold, and at the moment of ninety was no hardship.
But the paper was uninteresting. Parliament had risen, everybody was
out of town, and I yearned for the glades of
the New Forest or the shingle of Southsea. A depleted
bank account had caused me to postpone my holiday, And
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as to my companion, neither the country nor the sea
presented the slightest attraction to him, he loved to lie
in the very center of five millions of people, with
his filaments stretching out and running through them, responsive to
every little rumor or suspicion of unsolved crime. Appreciation of
nature found no place among his many gifts, and his
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only change was when he turned his mind from the
evil doer of the town to track down his brother
of the country. Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation,
I had tossed aside the barren paper, and leaning back
in my chair, I fell into a brown study. Suddenly
my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts. You are right, Watson,
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said he. It does seem a very preposterous way of
settling a dispute. Most preposterous, I exclaimed, and then, suddenly
realizing how he had echoed the inmost thought of my soul,
I sat up in my chair and stared at him
in blank amazement. What is this, Holmes, I cried. This
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is beyond anything which I could have imagined. He laughed
heartily at my perplexity. You remember, said he that, some
little time ago, when I read you the passage in
one of Poe's sketches, in which a close reasoner follows
the unspoken thought of his companion. You were inclined to
treat the matter as a mere towrdive force of the author.
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On my remarking that I was constantly in the habit
of doing the same thing, you expressed incredulity. Oh no,
perhaps not with your tongeung, my dear Watson, but certainly
with your eyebrows. So when I saw you throw down
your paper and enter upon a train of thought, I
was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it off,
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and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that
I had been in rapport with you. But I was
still far from satisfied in the example which you read
to me, said I. The reasoner drew his conclusions from
the actions of the man whom he observed. If I
remember right, he stumbled over a heap of stones, looked
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up at the stars, and so on. But I've been
seated quietly in my chair, And what clues can I
have given you? You do yourself an injustice. The features
are given to man as the means by which he
shall express his emotions, and yours are faithful servants. Do
you mean to say that you read my train of
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thoughts from my features, your features, and especially your eyes.
Perhaps you cannot your self recall how your reverie commenced.
No I cannot, Then I will tell you. After throwing
down your paper, which was the action which drew my
attention to you, you sat for half a minute with
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a vacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your
newly framed picture of General Gordon, and I saw by
the alteration in your face that a train of thought
had been started, but it did not lead very far.
Your eyes turned across to the unframed portrait of Henry
Ward Beecher, which stands upon the top of your books.
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You then glanced up at the wall, and of course
your meaning was obvious. You were thinking that if the
portrait were framed, it would just cover that bare space
and correspond with Gordon's picture over there. You followed me wonderfully,
I exclaimed, so far I could hardly have gone astray.
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But now your thoughts went back to beure, and you
looked hard across, as if you were studying the character
in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but
you continue to look across, and your face was thoughtful.
You were recalling the incidents of Beecher's career. I was
well aware that you could not do this without thinking
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of the mission which he undertook on behalf of the
North at the time of the Civil War. For I
remember you expressing your passionate indignation at the way in
which he was received by the more turbulent of our people.
You felt so strongly about it that I knew you
could not think of Beecher without thinking of that. Also,
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when a moment later I saw your eyes wander away
from the picture, I suspected that your mind had now
turned to the Civil War. And when I observed that
your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and your hands clinched,
I was positive that you were indeed thinking of the
gallantry which was shown by both sides in that desperate struggle.
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But then again your face grew sadder. You shook your head.
You were dwelling upon the sadness and horror and useless
waste of life. Your hands stole towards your own old wound,
and a smile quivered on your lips, which showed me
that the ridiculous side of this method of settling international
questions had forced itself upon your mind. At this point
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I agreed with you that it was preposterous, and was
glad to find that all my deductions had been correct, absolutely,
said I. And now that you've explained it, I confess
that I am as amazed as before. It was very superficial,
my dear Watson, I assure you I should not have
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intruded it upon your attention, had you not shown some
incredulity the other day. But the evening has brought a
breeze with it. What do you say to a ramble
through London? I was weary of our little sitting room
and gladly acquiesced. For three hours we strolled about together,
watching the ever changing kaleidoscope of life as it ebbs
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and flows through Fleet Street and the Strand. His characteristic talk,
with its keen observance of detail and subtle power of inference,
held me amused and enthralled. It was ten o'clock before
we reached Baker Street again. A Bruham was waiting at
our door. Hum a doctor's general practitioner, I perceive, said Holmes,
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not been long in practice, but has a good deal
to do. Come to consult us. I fancy lucky we
came back. I was sufficiently conversant with Holmes's methods to
be able to follow his reasoning and to see that
the nature and state of the various medical instruments in
the wicker basket which hung in the lamp light inside
the brupham had given him the data for his swift deduction.
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The light in our window above showed that his late
visit was indeed intended for us. With some curiosity as
to what could have sent a brother Medico to us
at such an hour, I followed Holmes into our sanctum.
A pale, taper faced man with sandy whiskers rose up
from a chair by the fire as we entered. His
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age may not have been more than three or four
and thirty, but his haggard expression and unhealthy hue told
of a life which has sapped his strength and robbed
him of his youth. His manner was nervous and shy,
like that of a sensitive gentleman, and the thin white
hand which he laid on the mantelpiece as he rose
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was that of an artist rather than of a surgeon.
His dress was quiet and somber, a black frock coat,
dark trousers, and a touch of color about his necktie.
Good evening, doctor, said Holmes cheerily. I am glad to
see that you have only been waiting a very few minutes.
You spoke to my coachman. Then. Now it was the
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handle on the side table that told me, pray, resume
your seat and let me know how I can serve you.
My name is doctor Percy Trevallian, said our visitor, and
I live at four O three Brook Street. Are you
not the author of a monograph upon Obscure Nervous Lesions?
I asked his pale cheeks flushed with pleasure at hearing
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that his work was known to me. I so seldom
hear of the work that I thought it was quite dead,
said he. My publishers gave me most discouraging account of
its sale. You are, yourself, I presume, a medical man,
a retired Army surgeon. My own hobby has always been
nervous disease. I should wish to make it an absolute specialty,
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but of course a man must take what he can
get at first. This, however, is beside the question. Mister
Sherlock Holmes, and I quite appreciate how valuable your time is.
The fact is that a very singular train of events
has occurred recently at my house in Brook Street, and
to night they came to such a head as I
felt it was quite impossible for me to wait another
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hour before asking for your advice and assistance. Sherlock Holmes
sat down and lit his pipe. You are very welcome
to both, said he. Pray. Let me have a detailed
account of what the circumstances are which have disturbed you.
One or two of them are so trivial, said Doctor Trevallian.
That really I am almost ashamed to mention them. But
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the matter is so inexplicable, and the recent turn which
it has taken is so elaborate, that I shall lay
it all before you, and you shall judge what is
essential and what is not. I am compelled to begin
with to say something of my own college career. I
am a London University man, you know, and I am
sure that you will not think that I am unduly
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singing my own praises if I say that my student
career was considered by my professors to be a very
promising one. After I graduate, I continued to avert myself
to research, occupying a minor position in King's College Hospital,
and I was fortunate enough to excite considerable interest by
my research into the pathology of catalepsy, and finally to
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win the Bruce Pinkton Prize and medle by the monograph
on Nervous Lesions to which your friend has just alluded.
I should not go too far if I were to
say that there was a general impression at the time
that a distinguished career lay before me. But the one
great stumbling block lay in my want of capital. As
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you will readily understand, a specialist who aims high is
compelled to start in one of a dozen streets in
the Cavendish Square Quarter, all of which entail enormous rents
and furnishing expenses. Besides this preliminary outlay, he must be
prepared to keep himself for some years, and to hire
a presentable carriage and horse. To do this was quite
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beyond my power, and I could only hope that by
economy I might, in ten years time save enough to
enable me to put up my plate. Suddenly, however, an
unexpected incident opened up quite a new prospect to me.
This was a visit from a gentleman of the name
of Blessington, who was a complete stranger to me. He
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came up to my room one morning and plunged into
business in an instant. You are the same Percy Trevallion
who has had so distinguished a career and won a
great prize lately, said he. I bowed answer me frankly,
he continued, for you'll find it your interest to do so.
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You have all the cleverness which makes a successful man,
have you the tact? I could not help smiling at
the abruptness of the question. I trust that I have
my share, I said, any bad habits not drawn towards
drink care? Really, sir, I cried, quite right, that's all right.
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But I was bound to ask, with all these qualities,
why are you not in practice? I shrugged my shoulders. Come, come,
said he in his bustling way. It's the old story.
More in your brains than in your pocket. Eh, What
would you say if I were to start you in
brook Street? I stared at him in astonishment. Oh, it's
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for my sake, not for yours, he cried. I'll be
perfectly frank with you, and if it suits you, it'll
suit me very well. I have a few thousands to invest,
you see, and I think I'll sink them in you.
But why, I gasped, Well, it's just like any other speculation,
and safer than most. What am I to do? Then,
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I'll tell you. I'll take the house, furnish it, pay
the maids, and run the whole place. All you have
to do is just to wear out your chair in
the concer halting room. I'll let you have pocket money
and everything, and you hand over to me three quarters
of what you earn, and you keep the other quarter
for yourself. This was the strange proposal, mister Holmes, with
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which the man Blessington approached me. I won't weary you
with the account of how we bargained and negotiated. It
ended in my moving into the house next lady day
and starting in practice on very much the same conditions
as he had suggested. He came himself to live with
me in the character of a resident patient. His heart
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was weak, it appears, and he needed constant medical supervision.
He turned the two best rooms of the first floor
into a sitting room and bedroom for himself. He was
a man of singular habits, shunning company and very seldom
going out. His life was irregular, but in one respect
he was regularity itself. Every evening at the same hour
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he walked into the consulting room, examined the books, put
down five and threepence for every guinea that I had earned,
and carried the rest off to the strong box in
his own room. I may say with confidence that he
never had occasion to regret his speculation. From the first
it was a success. A few good cases, and the
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reputation which I had won in the hospital brought me
rapidly to the front, and during the last few years
I have made him a rich man. So much mister Holmes,
for my past history and my relations with mister Blessington,
it only remains for me now to tell you what
has occurred to bring me here to night. Some weeks
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ago mister Blessington came down to me, in as it
seemed to me, a state of considerable agitation. He spoke
of some burglary which he said had been committed in
the West End, and he appeared, I remember, to be
quite unnecessarily excited about it, declaring that a day should
not pass before we should add stronger bolts to our
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windows and doors. For a week he continued to be
in a peculiar state of restlessness, peering continually out of
the windows, and ceasing to take the short walk which
had usually been the prelude to his dinner. From his manner,
it struck me that he was in mortal dread of
something or somebody. But when I questioned him upon the point,
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he became so offensive that I was compelled to drop
the subject. Gradually, as time passed, his fears appeared to
die away, and he had renewed his former habits, when
a fresh event reduced him to the pitiable state of
prostration in which he now lies. What happened was this
Two days ago I received the letter which I now
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read to you. Neither address nor date is attached to it.
A Russian nobleman, who is now resident in England, it runs,
would be glad to avail himself of the professional assistance
of Doctor to Percy Trevallian. He has been for some
years a victim to cataleptic attacks, on which, as is
well known, Doctor Trevallian is an authority. He proposes to
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call at about quarter past six tomorrow evening, if Doctor
Trevallian will make it convenient to be at home. This
letter interested me deeply because the chief difficulty in the
study of catalepsy is the rareness of the disease. You
may believe, then, that I was in my consulting room
when at the appointed hour the page showed in the patient.
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He was an elderly man, thin, demure, and commonplace, by
no means the conception one forms of a Russian nobleman.
I was much more struck by the appearance of his companion.
This was a tall young man, surprisingly handsome, with a dark,
fierce face and the lips and chest of a Hercules.
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He had his hand under the other's arm as they entered,
and helped him to a chair with a tenderness which
one would hardly have expected from his appearance. You will
excuse me coming in, doctor, said he to me, speaking
English with a slight lisp. This is my father, and
his health is a matter of the most overwhelming importance
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to me. I was touched by his filial anxiety. You
would perhaps care to remain during the consultation, said I,
Not for the world, he cried, with a gesture of horror.
It is more painful to me than I can express
if I were to see my father in one of
those dreadful caizures. I am convinced that I should never
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survive it. My own nervous system is an exceptionally sensitive one.
With your permission, I will remain in the waiting room
while you go into my father's case. To this, of course,
I assented, and the young man withdrew the patient and
I then planslunged into a discussion of his case, of
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which I took exhaustive notes. He was not remarkable for intelligence,
and his answers were frequently obscure, which I attributed to
his limited acquaintance with our language. Suddenly, however, as I
sat writing, he ceased to give any answer at all
to my inquiries, and on my turning towards him, I
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was shocked to see that he was sitting bolt upright
in his chair, staring at me with a perfectly blank
and rigid face. He was again in the grip of
his mysterious malady. My first feeling, as I have just said,
was one of pity and horror. My second, I fear,
was rather one of professional satisfaction. I made notes of
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my patient's pulse and temperature, tested the rigidity of his muscles,
and examined his reflexes. There was nothing markedly abnormal in
any of these conditions which harmonized with my former experiences.
I had obtained good results in such cases by the
inhalation of nitrite of amyl, and the presence seemed an
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admirable opportunity of testing its virtues. The bottle was downstairs
in my laboratory, so leaving my patient seated in his chair,
I ran down to get it. There was some little
delay in finding it five minutes, let us say, and
then I returned. Imagine my amazement to find the room
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empty and the patient gone. Of course, my first act
was to run into the waiting room. The sun had
gone also. The hall door had been closed, but not shut.
My page, who admits patience, is a new boy, and
by no means quick he waits downstairs and runs up
to show patients out. When I ring the consulting room bell,
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he had heard nothing, and the affair remained a complete mystery.
Mister Blessington came in from his walk shortly afterwards, but
I did not say anything to him upon the subject,
for to tell the truth, I have got in the
way of late of holding as little communication with him
as possible. Well, I never thought that I should see
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anything more of the Russian and his son. So you
can imagine my amazement when, at the very same hour
this evening, they both came marching into my consulting room,
just as they had done before. I feel that I
owe you a great many apologies for my abrupt departure yesterday, doctor,
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said my patient. I confess that I was very much
surprised at it, said I. Well, the fact is, he remarked,
that when I recover from these attacks, my mind is
always very clouded as to all that has gone before.
I woke up in a strange room, as it seemed
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to me, and made my way out into the street
in a sort of dazed way. You were absent, and
I said the son. Seeing my father past the door
of the waiting room, naturally thought that the consultation had
come to an end. It was not until we had
reached home that I began to realize the true state
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of affairs. Well, said I, laughing. There is no harm
done except that you puzzled me terribly. So if you, sir,
would kindly step into the waiting room, I shall be
happy to continue our consultation, which was brought to so
abrupt an ending. For half an hour or so, I
discussed that old gentleman's symptoms with him, and then, having
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prescribed for him, I saw him go off upon the
arm of his son. I have told you that mister
Blessington generally chose this hour of the day for his exercise.
He came in shortly afterwards and passed upstairs. An instant
later I heard him running down, and he burst into
my consulting room. Who like a man who is mad
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with panic? Who has been in my room? He cried? No,
one said I, it's a lie, he yelled, come up
and look. I passed over the grossness of his language,
as he seemed half out of his mind with fear.
When I went upstairs with him, he pointed to several
footprints upon the light carpet. Do you mean to say
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those are mine? He cried. They were certainly very much
larger than any which he could have made, and were
evidently quite fresh. It rained hard this afternoon, as you know,
and my patients were the only people who called. It
must have been the case then, that the man in
the waiting room had, for some unknown reason, while I
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was busy with the other ascended to the room of
my resident patient. Nothing had been touched or taken, but
there were the footprints to prove that the intrusion was
an undoubted fact. Mister Blessington seemed more excit it over
the matter than I should have thought possible, though of
course it was enough to disturb anybody's peace of mind.
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He actually sat crying in an arm chair, and I
could hardly get him to speak coherently. It was his
suggestion that I should come round to you, and of
course I at once saw the propriety of it, For
certainly the incident is a very singular one, though he
appears to completely overrate its importance. If you would only
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come back with me, my Brotherham, you would at least
be able to soothe him, though I can hardly hope
that you will be able to explain this remarkable occurrence.
Sherlock Holmes had listened to this long narrative with an
intentness which showed me that his interest was keenly aroused.
His face was as impassive as ever, but his lids
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had dropped more heavily over his eyes, and his smoke
had curled up more thickly from his pipe to emphasize
each curious episode in the doctor's tale. As our visitor concluded,
Holmes sprang up without a word, hand him in my hat,
picked his own from the table, and followed doctor Trevallian
to the door. Within a quarter of an hour we
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had been dropped at the door of the physician's residence
in Brook Street, one of those somber, flat faced houses
which one associates with the West End practice. A small
page admitted us, and we began at once to ascend
the broad well carpeted stare, but a singular interruption brought
us to a standstill. The light at the top was
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suddenly whisked out, and from the darkness came a reedy,
quivering voice. I have a pistol, it cried. I give
you my word that i'll fire if you come any nearer.
This really grows outrageous, mister Blessington, cried doctor trevallion Oh
then it is you, doctor, said the voice, with a
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great heave of relief. But those other gentlemen are though
what they pretend to be. We were conscious of a
long scrutiny out of the darkness. Yes, yes, it's all right,
said the voice. At last, you can come up, and
I am sorry if my precautions have annoyed you. He
reel at the stair gas as he spoke, and we
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saw before us a singular looking man whose appearance, as
well as his voice, testified to his jangled nerves. He
was very fat, but had apparently at some time been
much fatter, so that the skin hung about his face
in loose pouches, like the cheeks of a bloodhound. He
was of a sickly color, and his thin, sandy hair
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seemed to bristle up with the intensity of his emotion.
In his hand he held a pistol, but he thrust
it into his pocket. As we advanced good evening, mister
Holmes said he I am sure, I am very much
obliged to you for coming round. No one ever needed
your advice more than I do. I suppose that doctor
Trevallian has told you of this most unwarrantable intrusion into
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my rooms. Quite so, said Holmes. Who are these two men,
mister Blessington, and why do they wish to molest you? Well? Well,
said the resident patient, in a nervous fashion. Of course,
it is hard to say that. You can hardly expect
me to answer that, mister Holmes, do you mean that
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you don't know come in here, if you please just
have the kindness to step in here. He led the
way into his bedroom, which was large and comfortably furnished.
You see that, said he, pointing to a big black
box at the end of his bed. I have never
been a very rich man, mister Holmes, never made but
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one investment in my life, as doctor Trevallian would tell you.
But I don't believe in bankers. I would never trust
a banker, mister Holmes. Between ourselves, what little I have
is in that box. So you can understand what it
means to me when unknown people force themselves into my rooms.
Holmes looked at Blessington in his questioning way and shook
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his head. I cannot possibly advise you if you try
to deceive me, said he. But I have told you everything.
Holmes turned on his heel with a gesture of disgust.
Good Night, doctor Trevallion said he And no advice for me,
cried Blessington in a breaking voice. My advice to you, sir,
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is to speak the truth. A minute later, we were
in the street and walking for home. We had crossed
Oxford Street and were half way down Harley Street. Before
I could get a word from my companion, sorry to
bring you out on such a fool's errand Watson, he said,
at last, it is an interesting case too. At the
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bottom of it, I can make little of it, I confessed. Well,
it is quite evident that there are two men more, perhaps,
but at least two who are determined, for some reason
to get at this fellow, Oh Blessington. I have no
doubt in my mind that both on the first and
on the second occasion, that young man penetrated to Blessington's room,
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while his confederate, by an ingenious device kept the doctor
from interfering, and the catalepsy a fraudulent imitation. Watson, though
I should hardly dare to hint as much to our specialist.
It is a very easy complaint to imitate. I have
done it myself, and then, by the purest chance, Blessington
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was out on each occasion. Their reason for choosing so
unusual an hour for a consultation was obviously to ensure
that there should be no other patient in the waiting room.
It just happened, however, that this hour coincided with Blessington's constitutional,
which seems to show that they were not very well
acquainted with his daily routine. Of course, if they had
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been merely after plunder, they would at least have made
some attempt to search for it. Besides, I can read
in a man's eye when it is his own skin,
that he is frightened. For it is inconceivable that this
fellow could have made two such vindictive enemies as these
appear to be without knowing of it. I hold it therefore,
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to be certain that he does know who these men are,
and that, for reasons of his own he suppresses it.
It is just possible that to morrow may find him
in a more communicative mood. Is there not one alternative?
I suggested? Grotesquely improbable, no doubt, but still just conceivable.
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Might the whole story of the cataleptic Russian and his
son be a concoction of doctor Trevallion's, who has, for
his own purposes, been in Blessington's rooms. I saw in
the gaslight that Holmes wore an amused smile at this
brilliant departure of mine, my dear fellow said he. It
was one of the first solutions which occurred to me.
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But I was soon able to care oberate the doctor's tail.
This young man has left prints upon the stair carpet,
which made it quite superfluous for me to ask to
see those which he had made in the room. When
I tell you that his shoes were square toed instead
of being pointed like Blessington's, and were quite an inch
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and a third longer than the doctor's, you will acknowledge
that there can be no doubt as to his individuality.
But we may sleep on it now, for I shall
be surprised if we do not hear something further from
Brook Street in the morning. Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled,
and in a dramatic fashion. At half past seven next morning,
(32:40):
in the first glimmer of daylight, I found him standing
by my bedside in his dressing gown. There's a bruughon
waiting for us, Watson, said he. What's the matter? Then?
The Brook Street business? Any fresh news? Tragic but ambiguous,
said he, pulling up the blind. Look at this a
(33:02):
sheet from a note book with for God's Sake, come
at once p t scrawled upon it in pencil. Our friend,
the doctor was hard put to it when he wrote this,
Come along, my dear fellow, for it's an urgent call.
In a quarter of an hour or so we were
back at the physician's house. He came running out to
(33:23):
meet us with a face of horror. Oh, such a business,
he cried, with his hands to his temples. What then,
Blessington has committed suicide? Holmes whistled, Yes, he hanged himself
during the night. We had entered, and the doctor had
preceded us into what was evidently his waiting room. I
(33:44):
really hardly know what I'm doing, he cried. The police
are already upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully. When
did you find out? He has a cup of tea
taken into him early every morning? When the maid entered
about seven there, the unfortunate fellow was hanging in the
middle of the room. He had tied his cord to
(34:06):
the hook on which the heavy lamp used to hang,
and he had jumped off from the top of the
very box that he showed us yesterday. Holmes stood for
a moment in deep thought. With your permission, said he,
at last, I should like to go upstairs and look
into the matter. We both ascended, followed by the doctor.
(34:26):
It was a dreadful sight which met us as we
entered the bedroom door. I have spoken of the impression
of flabbiness which this man Blessington conveyed as he dangled
from the hook. It was exaggerated and intensified until he
was scarce human in his appearance. The neck was drawn
out like a plucked chicken's, making the rest of him
(34:47):
seem the more obese and unnatural. By contrast, he was
clad only in his long night dress, and his swollen
ankles and ungainly feet protruded starkly from beneath it. Side
him stood a smart looking police inspector who was taking
notes in a pocket book. Ah, mister Elmes, said he
(35:08):
heartily as my friend entered. I'm delighted to see you.
Good morning, Lenna answered Holmes. You won't think me an intruder.
I am sure. Have you heard of the events which
led up to this affair? Yeah, I heard something of them.
Have you formed any opinion? As far as I can see,
the man has been driven out of his senses by fright.
(35:31):
The bed has been well slept in, you see, there's
his impression deep enough. It's about five in the morning.
You know that suicides are most common. That would be
about his time for hanging himself. It seems to have been
a very deliberate affair. I should say that he has
been dead about three hours, judging by the rigidity of
the muscles. Said, I noticed anything peculiar about the room,
(35:54):
asked Holmes. Found a screwdriver and some screws on the
washhand stand. Seems to have smoked heavily during the night too.
Here are four cigar ends that I have picked out
of the fireplace, hum said Holmes. Have you got his
cigar holder? No, I have, say, none, his cigar case. Then, yes,
(36:17):
it was in his coat pocket. Holmes opened it and
smelled the single cigar which it contained. Oh, this is
an Havana, and these others are cigars of the peculiar sort,
which are imported by the Dutch from their East Indian colonies.
They are usually wrapped in straw, you know, and are
thinner for their length than any other brand. He picked
(36:39):
up the four ends and examined them with his pocket lens.
Two of these have been smoked from a holder and
two without, said he. Two have been cut by a
not very sharp knife, and two have had the ends
bitten off by a set of excellent teeth. This is
no suicide, mister Lanna. It is a very deeply planned
and cold blooded murder. Impossible, cried the inspector. And why
(37:05):
why should any one murder a man in so clumsy
a fashion as by hanging him? That is what we
have to find out. How could thy gain through the
front door? It was barred in the morning, then it
was barred after them. How do you know I saw
(37:25):
their traces. Excuse me a moment, and I may be
able to give you some further information about it. He
went over to the door, and turning the lock, he
examined it in his methodical way. Then he took out
the key, which was on the inside, and inspected that.
Also the bed, the carpet, the chairs, the mantel piece,
(37:46):
the dead body, and the rope were each in turn examined,
until at last he professed himself satisfied, and, with my
aid and that of the inspector, cut down the wretched
object and laid it reverently under a sheet. How about
this rope, he asked, It is cut off, This said
doctor Trevellion, drawing a large coil from under the bed.
(38:09):
He was morbidly nervous of fire, and always kept this
beside him so that he might escape by the window.
In case the stairs were burning. That must have saved
them trouble, said Holmes thoughtfully. Yes, the actual facts are
very plain, and I shall be surprised if by the
afternoon I cannot give you the reasons for them as well.
(38:31):
I will take this photograph of Blessington, which I see
upon the mantelpiece, as it may help me in my inquiries.
But you have told us nothing, cried the doctor. Oh,
there can be no doubt as to the sequence of events,
said Holmes. There were three of them, minute the young man,
the old man, and a third to whose identity I
(38:53):
have no clue. The first two, I need hardly remark,
are the same who masqueraded as the Russian count and
his son, so we can give a very full description
of them. They were admitted by a confederate inside the house.
If I might offer you a word of advice, Inspector,
it would be to arrest the page, who, as I understand,
(39:15):
has only recently come into your service. Doctor. The young
imp cannot be found, said Doctor Trevallion. The maid and
the cook have just been searching for him. Holmes shrugged
his shoulders. He has played a not unimportant part in
this drama, said he. The three men having ascended the stairs,
(39:35):
which they did on tiptoe, the elder man first, the
younger man second, and the unknown man in the rear.
My dear Holmes, I ejaculated, Oh, there could be no
question as to the superimposing of the footmarks. I had
the advantage of learning which was which last night. They
ascended then to mister Blessington's room, the door of which
(39:58):
they found to be locked. With the help of a wire. However,
they forced round the quay even without the lengs. You
will perceive by the scratches on this ward where the
pressure was applied. On entering the room. Their first proceeding
must have been to gag mister Blessington. He may have
been asleep, or he may have been so paralyzed with
terror as to have been unable to cry out. These
(40:21):
walls are thick, and it is conceivable that his shriek,
if he had time to utter one, was unheard. Having
secured him, it is evident to me that a consultation
of some sort was held. Probably it was something in
the nature of a judicial proceeding. It must have lasted
for some time, for it was then that these cigars
(40:42):
were smoked the older man sat in that wicker chair.
It was he who used the cigar holder. The younger
man sat over yonder. He knocked his ash off against
the chest of drawers. The third fellow paced up and down.
Blessington I think sat upright in the bed, but of
that I cannot be absolutely certain. Well it ended by
(41:06):
their taking Blessington and hanging him. The matter was so
pre arranged that it is my belief that they brought
with them some sort of block or pulley which might
serve as a gallows. That screwdriver and those screws were,
as I conceive, for fixing it up. Seeing the hook, however,
they naturally saved themselves the trouble. Having finished their work,
(41:28):
they made off, and the door was barred behind them
by their confederate. We had all listened with the deepest
interest to this sketch of the night's doings, which Holmes
had deduced from signs so subtle and minute that even
when he had pointed them out to us, we could
scarcely follow him in his reasoning. The inspector hurried away
(41:48):
on the instant to make inquiries about the page, while
Holmes and I returned to Baker Street for breakfast. I'll
be back by three, said he, when we'd finished our meal.
Both the Inspector and the doctor will meet me here
at that hour, and I hope by that time to
have cleared up any little obscurity which the case may
still present. Our visitors arrived at the appointed time, but
(42:13):
it was a quarter to four before my friend put
in an appearance. From his expression as he entered, however,
I could see that all had gone well with him.
Any news, Inspector. We we've got the boy, sir, excellent,
and I have got the men. You have got them,
we cried all three. Well, at least I have got
(42:37):
their identity. This so called Blessington is, as I expected,
well known at headquarters, and so are his assailants. Their
names are Biddle, Haywood and Moffatt, the Worthingdon Bank gang,
cried the Inspector. Precisely, said Holmes. Then Blessington must have
(42:58):
been satin eggs. Exactly, said Holmes. Why that makes it
as clear as crystal, said the Inspector. But Trevellion and
I looked at each other in bewilderment. You must surely
remember the great Worthingdon Bank business, said Holmes. Five men
were in it. These four and a fifth called Cartwright. Tobin,
(43:22):
the caretaker was murdered and the thieves got away with
seven thousand pounds. This was in eighteen seventy five. They
were all five arrested, but the evidence against them was
by no means conclusive. This Blessington or Sutton, who was
the worst of the gang, turned informer on his evidence.
Cartright was hanged and the other three got fifteen years apiece.
(43:46):
When they got out the other day, which was some
years before their full term. They set themselves, as you perceive,
to hunt down the traitor and to avenge the death
of their comrade upon him. Twice they tried to get
at him and failed. A third time you see it
came off. Is there anything further which I can explain,
Doctor Trevallian? I think you've made it all remarkably clear,
(44:10):
said the doctor, no doubt. The day on which he
was perturbed was the day when he had seen of
their release in the newspapers. Quite so, his talk about
a burglary was the merest blind. But why could he
not tell you this? Well, my dear sir, knowing the
vindictive character of his old associates. He was trying to
(44:32):
hide his own identity from everybody as long as he could.
His secret was a shameful one, and he could not
bring himself to divulge it. However, wretch as he was,
he was still living under the shield of British law.
And I've no doubt, Inspector, that you will see that
though that shield might fail to guard, the sword of
(44:52):
justice is still there to avenge. Such were the singular
circumstances in connection with the Resident Patient and the brook
Street Doctor. From that night. Nothing has been seen of
the three murderers by the police, and it is surmised
at Scotland Yard that they were among the passengers of
the ill fated steamer Norah Creina, which was lost some
(45:16):
years ago with all hands upon the Portuguese coast, some
leagues to the north of a Porto. The proceedings against
the page broke down for want of evidence, and the
Brook Street mystery, as it was called, has never until
now been fully dealt with in any public print. End
(45:36):
of the Resident Patient
Adventure eight in the Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Adventure eight. The resident patient. Glancing over the somewhat incoherent
series of memoirs with which I have endeavored to illustrate
a few of the mental peculiarities of my friend mister
(00:21):
Sherlock Holmes, I have been struck by the difficulty which
I have experienced in picking out examples which shall in
every way answer my purpose. For in those cases in
which Holmes has performed some toward a force of analytical reasoning,
and has demonstrated the value of his peculiar methods of investigation,
the facts themselves have often been so slight or so commonplace,
(00:44):
that I could not feel justified in laying them before
the public. On the other hand, it has frequently happened
that he has been concerned in some research where the
facts have been of the most remarkable and dramatic character,
but where the share which he has himself taken in
determining their causes has been less pronounced than I, as
his biographer, could wish. The small matter which I have
(01:08):
chronicled under the heading of a study in Scarlet, and
that other later one connected with the loss of the
glorious Scott, may serve as examples of this scylla and charybdis,
which are forever threatening the historian. It may be that,
in the business of which I am now about to write,
the part which my friend played is not sufficiently accentuated.
(01:31):
And yet the whole train of circumstances is so remarkable
that I cannot bring myself to omit it entirely from
this series. It had been a close, rainy day in October.
Our blinds were half drawn, and homes lay curled upon
the sofa, reading and rereading a letter which he had
received by the morning post. For myself, my term of
(01:55):
service in India had trained me to stand heat better
than cold, and at the moment of ninety was no hardship.
But the paper was uninteresting. Parliament had risen, everybody was
out of town, and I yearned for the glades of
the New Forest or the shingle of Southsea. A depleted
bank account had caused me to postpone my holiday, And
(02:17):
as to my companion, neither the country nor the sea
presented the slightest attraction to him, he loved to lie
in the very center of five millions of people, with
his filaments stretching out and running through them, responsive to
every little rumor or suspicion of unsolved crime. Appreciation of
nature found no place among his many gifts, and his
(02:40):
only change was when he turned his mind from the
evil doer of the town to track down his brother
of the country. Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation,
I had tossed aside the barren paper, and leaning back
in my chair, I fell into a brown study. Suddenly
my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts. You are right, Watson,
(03:05):
said he. It does seem a very preposterous way of
settling a dispute. Most preposterous, I exclaimed, and then, suddenly
realizing how he had echoed the inmost thought of my soul,
I sat up in my chair and stared at him
in blank amazement. What is this, Holmes, I cried. This
(03:26):
is beyond anything which I could have imagined. He laughed
heartily at my perplexity. You remember, said he that, some
little time ago, when I read you the passage in
one of Poe's sketches, in which a close reasoner follows
the unspoken thought of his companion. You were inclined to
treat the matter as a mere towrdive force of the author.
(03:49):
On my remarking that I was constantly in the habit
of doing the same thing, you expressed incredulity. Oh no,
perhaps not with your tongeung, my dear Watson, but certainly
with your eyebrows. So when I saw you throw down
your paper and enter upon a train of thought, I
was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it off,
(04:11):
and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that
I had been in rapport with you. But I was
still far from satisfied in the example which you read
to me, said I. The reasoner drew his conclusions from
the actions of the man whom he observed. If I
remember right, he stumbled over a heap of stones, looked
(04:31):
up at the stars, and so on. But I've been
seated quietly in my chair, And what clues can I
have given you? You do yourself an injustice. The features
are given to man as the means by which he
shall express his emotions, and yours are faithful servants. Do
you mean to say that you read my train of
(04:52):
thoughts from my features, your features, and especially your eyes.
Perhaps you cannot your self recall how your reverie commenced.
No I cannot, Then I will tell you. After throwing
down your paper, which was the action which drew my
attention to you, you sat for half a minute with
(05:15):
a vacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your
newly framed picture of General Gordon, and I saw by
the alteration in your face that a train of thought
had been started, but it did not lead very far.
Your eyes turned across to the unframed portrait of Henry
Ward Beecher, which stands upon the top of your books.
(05:37):
You then glanced up at the wall, and of course
your meaning was obvious. You were thinking that if the
portrait were framed, it would just cover that bare space
and correspond with Gordon's picture over there. You followed me wonderfully,
I exclaimed, so far I could hardly have gone astray.
(05:58):
But now your thoughts went back to beure, and you
looked hard across, as if you were studying the character
in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but
you continue to look across, and your face was thoughtful.
You were recalling the incidents of Beecher's career. I was
well aware that you could not do this without thinking
(06:18):
of the mission which he undertook on behalf of the
North at the time of the Civil War. For I
remember you expressing your passionate indignation at the way in
which he was received by the more turbulent of our people.
You felt so strongly about it that I knew you
could not think of Beecher without thinking of that. Also,
(06:39):
when a moment later I saw your eyes wander away
from the picture, I suspected that your mind had now
turned to the Civil War. And when I observed that
your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and your hands clinched,
I was positive that you were indeed thinking of the
gallantry which was shown by both sides in that desperate struggle.
(07:00):
But then again your face grew sadder. You shook your head.
You were dwelling upon the sadness and horror and useless
waste of life. Your hands stole towards your own old wound,
and a smile quivered on your lips, which showed me
that the ridiculous side of this method of settling international
questions had forced itself upon your mind. At this point
(07:25):
I agreed with you that it was preposterous, and was
glad to find that all my deductions had been correct, absolutely,
said I. And now that you've explained it, I confess
that I am as amazed as before. It was very superficial,
my dear Watson, I assure you I should not have
(07:45):
intruded it upon your attention, had you not shown some
incredulity the other day. But the evening has brought a
breeze with it. What do you say to a ramble
through London? I was weary of our little sitting room
and gladly acquiesced. For three hours we strolled about together,
watching the ever changing kaleidoscope of life as it ebbs
(08:06):
and flows through Fleet Street and the Strand. His characteristic talk,
with its keen observance of detail and subtle power of inference,
held me amused and enthralled. It was ten o'clock before
we reached Baker Street again. A Bruham was waiting at
our door. Hum a doctor's general practitioner, I perceive, said Holmes,
(08:28):
not been long in practice, but has a good deal
to do. Come to consult us. I fancy lucky we
came back. I was sufficiently conversant with Holmes's methods to
be able to follow his reasoning and to see that
the nature and state of the various medical instruments in
the wicker basket which hung in the lamp light inside
the brupham had given him the data for his swift deduction.
(08:53):
The light in our window above showed that his late
visit was indeed intended for us. With some curiosity as
to what could have sent a brother Medico to us
at such an hour, I followed Holmes into our sanctum.
A pale, taper faced man with sandy whiskers rose up
from a chair by the fire as we entered. His
(09:15):
age may not have been more than three or four
and thirty, but his haggard expression and unhealthy hue told
of a life which has sapped his strength and robbed
him of his youth. His manner was nervous and shy,
like that of a sensitive gentleman, and the thin white
hand which he laid on the mantelpiece as he rose
(09:36):
was that of an artist rather than of a surgeon.
His dress was quiet and somber, a black frock coat,
dark trousers, and a touch of color about his necktie.
Good evening, doctor, said Holmes cheerily. I am glad to
see that you have only been waiting a very few minutes.
You spoke to my coachman. Then. Now it was the
(10:00):
handle on the side table that told me, pray, resume
your seat and let me know how I can serve you.
My name is doctor Percy Trevallian, said our visitor, and
I live at four O three Brook Street. Are you
not the author of a monograph upon Obscure Nervous Lesions?
I asked his pale cheeks flushed with pleasure at hearing
(10:22):
that his work was known to me. I so seldom
hear of the work that I thought it was quite dead,
said he. My publishers gave me most discouraging account of
its sale. You are, yourself, I presume, a medical man,
a retired Army surgeon. My own hobby has always been
nervous disease. I should wish to make it an absolute specialty,
(10:46):
but of course a man must take what he can
get at first. This, however, is beside the question. Mister
Sherlock Holmes, and I quite appreciate how valuable your time is.
The fact is that a very singular train of events
has occurred recently at my house in Brook Street, and
to night they came to such a head as I
felt it was quite impossible for me to wait another
(11:06):
hour before asking for your advice and assistance. Sherlock Holmes
sat down and lit his pipe. You are very welcome
to both, said he. Pray. Let me have a detailed
account of what the circumstances are which have disturbed you.
One or two of them are so trivial, said Doctor Trevallian.
That really I am almost ashamed to mention them. But
(11:30):
the matter is so inexplicable, and the recent turn which
it has taken is so elaborate, that I shall lay
it all before you, and you shall judge what is
essential and what is not. I am compelled to begin
with to say something of my own college career. I
am a London University man, you know, and I am
sure that you will not think that I am unduly
(11:51):
singing my own praises if I say that my student
career was considered by my professors to be a very
promising one. After I graduate, I continued to avert myself
to research, occupying a minor position in King's College Hospital,
and I was fortunate enough to excite considerable interest by
my research into the pathology of catalepsy, and finally to
(12:14):
win the Bruce Pinkton Prize and medle by the monograph
on Nervous Lesions to which your friend has just alluded.
I should not go too far if I were to
say that there was a general impression at the time
that a distinguished career lay before me. But the one
great stumbling block lay in my want of capital. As
(12:36):
you will readily understand, a specialist who aims high is
compelled to start in one of a dozen streets in
the Cavendish Square Quarter, all of which entail enormous rents
and furnishing expenses. Besides this preliminary outlay, he must be
prepared to keep himself for some years, and to hire
a presentable carriage and horse. To do this was quite
(12:58):
beyond my power, and I could only hope that by
economy I might, in ten years time save enough to
enable me to put up my plate. Suddenly, however, an
unexpected incident opened up quite a new prospect to me.
This was a visit from a gentleman of the name
of Blessington, who was a complete stranger to me. He
(13:20):
came up to my room one morning and plunged into
business in an instant. You are the same Percy Trevallion
who has had so distinguished a career and won a
great prize lately, said he. I bowed answer me frankly,
he continued, for you'll find it your interest to do so.
(13:40):
You have all the cleverness which makes a successful man,
have you the tact? I could not help smiling at
the abruptness of the question. I trust that I have
my share, I said, any bad habits not drawn towards
drink care? Really, sir, I cried, quite right, that's all right.
(14:02):
But I was bound to ask, with all these qualities,
why are you not in practice? I shrugged my shoulders. Come, come,
said he in his bustling way. It's the old story.
More in your brains than in your pocket. Eh, What
would you say if I were to start you in
brook Street? I stared at him in astonishment. Oh, it's
(14:27):
for my sake, not for yours, he cried. I'll be
perfectly frank with you, and if it suits you, it'll
suit me very well. I have a few thousands to invest,
you see, and I think I'll sink them in you.
But why, I gasped, Well, it's just like any other speculation,
and safer than most. What am I to do? Then,
(14:50):
I'll tell you. I'll take the house, furnish it, pay
the maids, and run the whole place. All you have
to do is just to wear out your chair in
the concer halting room. I'll let you have pocket money
and everything, and you hand over to me three quarters
of what you earn, and you keep the other quarter
for yourself. This was the strange proposal, mister Holmes, with
(15:13):
which the man Blessington approached me. I won't weary you
with the account of how we bargained and negotiated. It
ended in my moving into the house next lady day
and starting in practice on very much the same conditions
as he had suggested. He came himself to live with
me in the character of a resident patient. His heart
(15:35):
was weak, it appears, and he needed constant medical supervision.
He turned the two best rooms of the first floor
into a sitting room and bedroom for himself. He was
a man of singular habits, shunning company and very seldom
going out. His life was irregular, but in one respect
he was regularity itself. Every evening at the same hour
(15:59):
he walked into the consulting room, examined the books, put
down five and threepence for every guinea that I had earned,
and carried the rest off to the strong box in
his own room. I may say with confidence that he
never had occasion to regret his speculation. From the first
it was a success. A few good cases, and the
(16:20):
reputation which I had won in the hospital brought me
rapidly to the front, and during the last few years
I have made him a rich man. So much mister Holmes,
for my past history and my relations with mister Blessington,
it only remains for me now to tell you what
has occurred to bring me here to night. Some weeks
(16:41):
ago mister Blessington came down to me, in as it
seemed to me, a state of considerable agitation. He spoke
of some burglary which he said had been committed in
the West End, and he appeared, I remember, to be
quite unnecessarily excited about it, declaring that a day should
not pass before we should add stronger bolts to our
(17:02):
windows and doors. For a week he continued to be
in a peculiar state of restlessness, peering continually out of
the windows, and ceasing to take the short walk which
had usually been the prelude to his dinner. From his manner,
it struck me that he was in mortal dread of
something or somebody. But when I questioned him upon the point,
(17:23):
he became so offensive that I was compelled to drop
the subject. Gradually, as time passed, his fears appeared to
die away, and he had renewed his former habits, when
a fresh event reduced him to the pitiable state of
prostration in which he now lies. What happened was this
Two days ago I received the letter which I now
(17:46):
read to you. Neither address nor date is attached to it.
A Russian nobleman, who is now resident in England, it runs,
would be glad to avail himself of the professional assistance
of Doctor to Percy Trevallian. He has been for some
years a victim to cataleptic attacks, on which, as is
well known, Doctor Trevallian is an authority. He proposes to
(18:10):
call at about quarter past six tomorrow evening, if Doctor
Trevallian will make it convenient to be at home. This
letter interested me deeply because the chief difficulty in the
study of catalepsy is the rareness of the disease. You
may believe, then, that I was in my consulting room
when at the appointed hour the page showed in the patient.
(18:35):
He was an elderly man, thin, demure, and commonplace, by
no means the conception one forms of a Russian nobleman.
I was much more struck by the appearance of his companion.
This was a tall young man, surprisingly handsome, with a dark,
fierce face and the lips and chest of a Hercules.
(18:57):
He had his hand under the other's arm as they entered,
and helped him to a chair with a tenderness which
one would hardly have expected from his appearance. You will
excuse me coming in, doctor, said he to me, speaking
English with a slight lisp. This is my father, and
his health is a matter of the most overwhelming importance
(19:18):
to me. I was touched by his filial anxiety. You
would perhaps care to remain during the consultation, said I,
Not for the world, he cried, with a gesture of horror.
It is more painful to me than I can express
if I were to see my father in one of
those dreadful caizures. I am convinced that I should never
(19:42):
survive it. My own nervous system is an exceptionally sensitive one.
With your permission, I will remain in the waiting room
while you go into my father's case. To this, of course,
I assented, and the young man withdrew the patient and
I then planslunged into a discussion of his case, of
(20:02):
which I took exhaustive notes. He was not remarkable for intelligence,
and his answers were frequently obscure, which I attributed to
his limited acquaintance with our language. Suddenly, however, as I
sat writing, he ceased to give any answer at all
to my inquiries, and on my turning towards him, I
(20:23):
was shocked to see that he was sitting bolt upright
in his chair, staring at me with a perfectly blank
and rigid face. He was again in the grip of
his mysterious malady. My first feeling, as I have just said,
was one of pity and horror. My second, I fear,
was rather one of professional satisfaction. I made notes of
(20:46):
my patient's pulse and temperature, tested the rigidity of his muscles,
and examined his reflexes. There was nothing markedly abnormal in
any of these conditions which harmonized with my former experiences.
I had obtained good results in such cases by the
inhalation of nitrite of amyl, and the presence seemed an
(21:07):
admirable opportunity of testing its virtues. The bottle was downstairs
in my laboratory, so leaving my patient seated in his chair,
I ran down to get it. There was some little
delay in finding it five minutes, let us say, and
then I returned. Imagine my amazement to find the room
(21:28):
empty and the patient gone. Of course, my first act
was to run into the waiting room. The sun had
gone also. The hall door had been closed, but not shut.
My page, who admits patience, is a new boy, and
by no means quick he waits downstairs and runs up
to show patients out. When I ring the consulting room bell,
(21:51):
he had heard nothing, and the affair remained a complete mystery.
Mister Blessington came in from his walk shortly afterwards, but
I did not say anything to him upon the subject,
for to tell the truth, I have got in the
way of late of holding as little communication with him
as possible. Well, I never thought that I should see
(22:13):
anything more of the Russian and his son. So you
can imagine my amazement when, at the very same hour
this evening, they both came marching into my consulting room,
just as they had done before. I feel that I
owe you a great many apologies for my abrupt departure yesterday, doctor,
(22:34):
said my patient. I confess that I was very much
surprised at it, said I. Well, the fact is, he remarked,
that when I recover from these attacks, my mind is
always very clouded as to all that has gone before.
I woke up in a strange room, as it seemed
(22:54):
to me, and made my way out into the street
in a sort of dazed way. You were absent, and
I said the son. Seeing my father past the door
of the waiting room, naturally thought that the consultation had
come to an end. It was not until we had
reached home that I began to realize the true state
(23:16):
of affairs. Well, said I, laughing. There is no harm
done except that you puzzled me terribly. So if you, sir,
would kindly step into the waiting room, I shall be
happy to continue our consultation, which was brought to so
abrupt an ending. For half an hour or so, I
discussed that old gentleman's symptoms with him, and then, having
(23:41):
prescribed for him, I saw him go off upon the
arm of his son. I have told you that mister
Blessington generally chose this hour of the day for his exercise.
He came in shortly afterwards and passed upstairs. An instant
later I heard him running down, and he burst into
my consulting room. Who like a man who is mad
(24:01):
with panic? Who has been in my room? He cried? No,
one said I, it's a lie, he yelled, come up
and look. I passed over the grossness of his language,
as he seemed half out of his mind with fear.
When I went upstairs with him, he pointed to several
footprints upon the light carpet. Do you mean to say
(24:24):
those are mine? He cried. They were certainly very much
larger than any which he could have made, and were
evidently quite fresh. It rained hard this afternoon, as you know,
and my patients were the only people who called. It
must have been the case then, that the man in
the waiting room had, for some unknown reason, while I
(24:45):
was busy with the other ascended to the room of
my resident patient. Nothing had been touched or taken, but
there were the footprints to prove that the intrusion was
an undoubted fact. Mister Blessington seemed more excit it over
the matter than I should have thought possible, though of
course it was enough to disturb anybody's peace of mind.
(25:07):
He actually sat crying in an arm chair, and I
could hardly get him to speak coherently. It was his
suggestion that I should come round to you, and of
course I at once saw the propriety of it, For
certainly the incident is a very singular one, though he
appears to completely overrate its importance. If you would only
(25:29):
come back with me, my Brotherham, you would at least
be able to soothe him, though I can hardly hope
that you will be able to explain this remarkable occurrence.
Sherlock Holmes had listened to this long narrative with an
intentness which showed me that his interest was keenly aroused.
His face was as impassive as ever, but his lids
(25:50):
had dropped more heavily over his eyes, and his smoke
had curled up more thickly from his pipe to emphasize
each curious episode in the doctor's tale. As our visitor concluded,
Holmes sprang up without a word, hand him in my hat,
picked his own from the table, and followed doctor Trevallian
to the door. Within a quarter of an hour we
(26:11):
had been dropped at the door of the physician's residence
in Brook Street, one of those somber, flat faced houses
which one associates with the West End practice. A small
page admitted us, and we began at once to ascend
the broad well carpeted stare, but a singular interruption brought
us to a standstill. The light at the top was
(26:34):
suddenly whisked out, and from the darkness came a reedy,
quivering voice. I have a pistol, it cried. I give
you my word that i'll fire if you come any nearer.
This really grows outrageous, mister Blessington, cried doctor trevallion Oh
then it is you, doctor, said the voice, with a
(26:55):
great heave of relief. But those other gentlemen are though
what they pretend to be. We were conscious of a
long scrutiny out of the darkness. Yes, yes, it's all right,
said the voice. At last, you can come up, and
I am sorry if my precautions have annoyed you. He
reel at the stair gas as he spoke, and we
(27:17):
saw before us a singular looking man whose appearance, as
well as his voice, testified to his jangled nerves. He
was very fat, but had apparently at some time been
much fatter, so that the skin hung about his face
in loose pouches, like the cheeks of a bloodhound. He
was of a sickly color, and his thin, sandy hair
(27:38):
seemed to bristle up with the intensity of his emotion.
In his hand he held a pistol, but he thrust
it into his pocket. As we advanced good evening, mister
Holmes said he I am sure, I am very much
obliged to you for coming round. No one ever needed
your advice more than I do. I suppose that doctor
Trevallian has told you of this most unwarrantable intrusion into
(28:01):
my rooms. Quite so, said Holmes. Who are these two men,
mister Blessington, and why do they wish to molest you? Well? Well,
said the resident patient, in a nervous fashion. Of course,
it is hard to say that. You can hardly expect
me to answer that, mister Holmes, do you mean that
(28:22):
you don't know come in here, if you please just
have the kindness to step in here. He led the
way into his bedroom, which was large and comfortably furnished.
You see that, said he, pointing to a big black
box at the end of his bed. I have never
been a very rich man, mister Holmes, never made but
(28:42):
one investment in my life, as doctor Trevallian would tell you.
But I don't believe in bankers. I would never trust
a banker, mister Holmes. Between ourselves, what little I have
is in that box. So you can understand what it
means to me when unknown people force themselves into my rooms.
Holmes looked at Blessington in his questioning way and shook
(29:04):
his head. I cannot possibly advise you if you try
to deceive me, said he. But I have told you everything.
Holmes turned on his heel with a gesture of disgust.
Good Night, doctor Trevallion said he And no advice for me,
cried Blessington in a breaking voice. My advice to you, sir,
(29:26):
is to speak the truth. A minute later, we were
in the street and walking for home. We had crossed
Oxford Street and were half way down Harley Street. Before
I could get a word from my companion, sorry to
bring you out on such a fool's errand Watson, he said,
at last, it is an interesting case too. At the
(29:46):
bottom of it, I can make little of it, I confessed. Well,
it is quite evident that there are two men more, perhaps,
but at least two who are determined, for some reason
to get at this fellow, Oh Blessington. I have no
doubt in my mind that both on the first and
on the second occasion, that young man penetrated to Blessington's room,
(30:09):
while his confederate, by an ingenious device kept the doctor
from interfering, and the catalepsy a fraudulent imitation. Watson, though
I should hardly dare to hint as much to our specialist.
It is a very easy complaint to imitate. I have
done it myself, and then, by the purest chance, Blessington
(30:34):
was out on each occasion. Their reason for choosing so
unusual an hour for a consultation was obviously to ensure
that there should be no other patient in the waiting room.
It just happened, however, that this hour coincided with Blessington's constitutional,
which seems to show that they were not very well
acquainted with his daily routine. Of course, if they had
(30:56):
been merely after plunder, they would at least have made
some attempt to search for it. Besides, I can read
in a man's eye when it is his own skin,
that he is frightened. For it is inconceivable that this
fellow could have made two such vindictive enemies as these
appear to be without knowing of it. I hold it therefore,
(31:17):
to be certain that he does know who these men are,
and that, for reasons of his own he suppresses it.
It is just possible that to morrow may find him
in a more communicative mood. Is there not one alternative?
I suggested? Grotesquely improbable, no doubt, but still just conceivable.
(31:37):
Might the whole story of the cataleptic Russian and his
son be a concoction of doctor Trevallion's, who has, for
his own purposes, been in Blessington's rooms. I saw in
the gaslight that Holmes wore an amused smile at this
brilliant departure of mine, my dear fellow said he. It
was one of the first solutions which occurred to me.
(31:58):
But I was soon able to care oberate the doctor's tail.
This young man has left prints upon the stair carpet,
which made it quite superfluous for me to ask to
see those which he had made in the room. When
I tell you that his shoes were square toed instead
of being pointed like Blessington's, and were quite an inch
(32:18):
and a third longer than the doctor's, you will acknowledge
that there can be no doubt as to his individuality.
But we may sleep on it now, for I shall
be surprised if we do not hear something further from
Brook Street in the morning. Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled,
and in a dramatic fashion. At half past seven next morning,
(32:40):
in the first glimmer of daylight, I found him standing
by my bedside in his dressing gown. There's a bruughon
waiting for us, Watson, said he. What's the matter? Then?
The Brook Street business? Any fresh news? Tragic but ambiguous,
said he, pulling up the blind. Look at this a
(33:02):
sheet from a note book with for God's Sake, come
at once p t scrawled upon it in pencil. Our friend,
the doctor was hard put to it when he wrote this,
Come along, my dear fellow, for it's an urgent call.
In a quarter of an hour or so we were
back at the physician's house. He came running out to
(33:23):
meet us with a face of horror. Oh, such a business,
he cried, with his hands to his temples. What then,
Blessington has committed suicide? Holmes whistled, Yes, he hanged himself
during the night. We had entered, and the doctor had
preceded us into what was evidently his waiting room. I
(33:44):
really hardly know what I'm doing, he cried. The police
are already upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully. When
did you find out? He has a cup of tea
taken into him early every morning? When the maid entered
about seven there, the unfortunate fellow was hanging in the
middle of the room. He had tied his cord to
(34:06):
the hook on which the heavy lamp used to hang,
and he had jumped off from the top of the
very box that he showed us yesterday. Holmes stood for
a moment in deep thought. With your permission, said he,
at last, I should like to go upstairs and look
into the matter. We both ascended, followed by the doctor.
(34:26):
It was a dreadful sight which met us as we
entered the bedroom door. I have spoken of the impression
of flabbiness which this man Blessington conveyed as he dangled
from the hook. It was exaggerated and intensified until he
was scarce human in his appearance. The neck was drawn
out like a plucked chicken's, making the rest of him
(34:47):
seem the more obese and unnatural. By contrast, he was
clad only in his long night dress, and his swollen
ankles and ungainly feet protruded starkly from beneath it. Side
him stood a smart looking police inspector who was taking
notes in a pocket book. Ah, mister Elmes, said he
(35:08):
heartily as my friend entered. I'm delighted to see you.
Good morning, Lenna answered Holmes. You won't think me an intruder.
I am sure. Have you heard of the events which
led up to this affair? Yeah, I heard something of them.
Have you formed any opinion? As far as I can see,
the man has been driven out of his senses by fright.
(35:31):
The bed has been well slept in, you see, there's
his impression deep enough. It's about five in the morning.
You know that suicides are most common. That would be
about his time for hanging himself. It seems to have been
a very deliberate affair. I should say that he has
been dead about three hours, judging by the rigidity of
the muscles. Said, I noticed anything peculiar about the room,
(35:54):
asked Holmes. Found a screwdriver and some screws on the
washhand stand. Seems to have smoked heavily during the night too.
Here are four cigar ends that I have picked out
of the fireplace, hum said Holmes. Have you got his
cigar holder? No, I have, say, none, his cigar case. Then, yes,
(36:17):
it was in his coat pocket. Holmes opened it and
smelled the single cigar which it contained. Oh, this is
an Havana, and these others are cigars of the peculiar sort,
which are imported by the Dutch from their East Indian colonies.
They are usually wrapped in straw, you know, and are
thinner for their length than any other brand. He picked
(36:39):
up the four ends and examined them with his pocket lens.
Two of these have been smoked from a holder and
two without, said he. Two have been cut by a
not very sharp knife, and two have had the ends
bitten off by a set of excellent teeth. This is
no suicide, mister Lanna. It is a very deeply planned
and cold blooded murder. Impossible, cried the inspector. And why
(37:05):
why should any one murder a man in so clumsy
a fashion as by hanging him? That is what we
have to find out. How could thy gain through the
front door? It was barred in the morning, then it
was barred after them. How do you know I saw
(37:25):
their traces. Excuse me a moment, and I may be
able to give you some further information about it. He
went over to the door, and turning the lock, he
examined it in his methodical way. Then he took out
the key, which was on the inside, and inspected that.
Also the bed, the carpet, the chairs, the mantel piece,
(37:46):
the dead body, and the rope were each in turn examined,
until at last he professed himself satisfied, and, with my
aid and that of the inspector, cut down the wretched
object and laid it reverently under a sheet. How about
this rope, he asked, It is cut off, This said
doctor Trevellion, drawing a large coil from under the bed.
(38:09):
He was morbidly nervous of fire, and always kept this
beside him so that he might escape by the window.
In case the stairs were burning. That must have saved
them trouble, said Holmes thoughtfully. Yes, the actual facts are
very plain, and I shall be surprised if by the
afternoon I cannot give you the reasons for them as well.
(38:31):
I will take this photograph of Blessington, which I see
upon the mantelpiece, as it may help me in my inquiries.
But you have told us nothing, cried the doctor. Oh,
there can be no doubt as to the sequence of events,
said Holmes. There were three of them, minute the young man,
the old man, and a third to whose identity I
(38:53):
have no clue. The first two, I need hardly remark,
are the same who masqueraded as the Russian count and
his son, so we can give a very full description
of them. They were admitted by a confederate inside the house.
If I might offer you a word of advice, Inspector,
it would be to arrest the page, who, as I understand,
(39:15):
has only recently come into your service. Doctor. The young
imp cannot be found, said Doctor Trevallion. The maid and
the cook have just been searching for him. Holmes shrugged
his shoulders. He has played a not unimportant part in
this drama, said he. The three men having ascended the stairs,
(39:35):
which they did on tiptoe, the elder man first, the
younger man second, and the unknown man in the rear.
My dear Holmes, I ejaculated, Oh, there could be no
question as to the superimposing of the footmarks. I had
the advantage of learning which was which last night. They
ascended then to mister Blessington's room, the door of which
(39:58):
they found to be locked. With the help of a wire. However,
they forced round the quay even without the lengs. You
will perceive by the scratches on this ward where the
pressure was applied. On entering the room. Their first proceeding
must have been to gag mister Blessington. He may have
been asleep, or he may have been so paralyzed with
terror as to have been unable to cry out. These
(40:21):
walls are thick, and it is conceivable that his shriek,
if he had time to utter one, was unheard. Having
secured him, it is evident to me that a consultation
of some sort was held. Probably it was something in
the nature of a judicial proceeding. It must have lasted
for some time, for it was then that these cigars
(40:42):
were smoked the older man sat in that wicker chair.
It was he who used the cigar holder. The younger
man sat over yonder. He knocked his ash off against
the chest of drawers. The third fellow paced up and down.
Blessington I think sat upright in the bed, but of
that I cannot be absolutely certain. Well it ended by
(41:06):
their taking Blessington and hanging him. The matter was so
pre arranged that it is my belief that they brought
with them some sort of block or pulley which might
serve as a gallows. That screwdriver and those screws were,
as I conceive, for fixing it up. Seeing the hook, however,
they naturally saved themselves the trouble. Having finished their work,
(41:28):
they made off, and the door was barred behind them
by their confederate. We had all listened with the deepest
interest to this sketch of the night's doings, which Holmes
had deduced from signs so subtle and minute that even
when he had pointed them out to us, we could
scarcely follow him in his reasoning. The inspector hurried away
(41:48):
on the instant to make inquiries about the page, while
Holmes and I returned to Baker Street for breakfast. I'll
be back by three, said he, when we'd finished our meal.
Both the Inspector and the doctor will meet me here
at that hour, and I hope by that time to
have cleared up any little obscurity which the case may
still present. Our visitors arrived at the appointed time, but
(42:13):
it was a quarter to four before my friend put
in an appearance. From his expression as he entered, however,
I could see that all had gone well with him.
Any news, Inspector. We we've got the boy, sir, excellent,
and I have got the men. You have got them,
we cried all three. Well, at least I have got
(42:37):
their identity. This so called Blessington is, as I expected,
well known at headquarters, and so are his assailants. Their
names are Biddle, Haywood and Moffatt, the Worthingdon Bank gang,
cried the Inspector. Precisely, said Holmes. Then Blessington must have
(42:58):
been satin eggs. Exactly, said Holmes. Why that makes it
as clear as crystal, said the Inspector. But Trevellion and
I looked at each other in bewilderment. You must surely
remember the great Worthingdon Bank business, said Holmes. Five men
were in it. These four and a fifth called Cartwright. Tobin,
(43:22):
the caretaker was murdered and the thieves got away with
seven thousand pounds. This was in eighteen seventy five. They
were all five arrested, but the evidence against them was
by no means conclusive. This Blessington or Sutton, who was
the worst of the gang, turned informer on his evidence.
Cartright was hanged and the other three got fifteen years apiece.
(43:46):
When they got out the other day, which was some
years before their full term. They set themselves, as you perceive,
to hunt down the traitor and to avenge the death
of their comrade upon him. Twice they tried to get
at him and failed. A third time you see it
came off. Is there anything further which I can explain,
Doctor Trevallian? I think you've made it all remarkably clear,
(44:10):
said the doctor, no doubt. The day on which he
was perturbed was the day when he had seen of
their release in the newspapers. Quite so, his talk about
a burglary was the merest blind. But why could he
not tell you this? Well, my dear sir, knowing the
vindictive character of his old associates. He was trying to
(44:32):
hide his own identity from everybody as long as he could.
His secret was a shameful one, and he could not
bring himself to divulge it. However, wretch as he was,
he was still living under the shield of British law.
And I've no doubt, Inspector, that you will see that
though that shield might fail to guard, the sword of
(44:52):
justice is still there to avenge. Such were the singular
circumstances in connection with the Resident Patient and the brook
Street Doctor. From that night. Nothing has been seen of
the three murderers by the police, and it is surmised
at Scotland Yard that they were among the passengers of
the ill fated steamer Norah Creina, which was lost some
(45:16):
years ago with all hands upon the Portuguese coast, some
leagues to the north of a Porto. The proceedings against
the page broke down for want of evidence, and the
Brook Street mystery, as it was called, has never until
now been fully dealt with in any public print. End
(45:36):
of the Resident Patient
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