From 51cab7440273bd0b67f05893fba91f30cf9e18c0 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: yamasy1549 Date: Sat, 7 Aug 2021 23:35:46 +0900 Subject: [PATCH] feat(@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg): follow VFM v1.0.0 --- .../@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css | 70 +- .../theme-gutenberg/alice.css.map | 2 +- .../config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js | 35 + .../config/fang/vivliostyle.config.js | 26 + .../config/sherlock/vivliostyle.config.js | 35 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.html | 4519 ----- .../theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.md | 4408 ----- .../theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.html | 8939 --------- .../theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.md | 7009 ------- .../theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.html | 15091 ---------------- .../theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.md | 13018 ------------- .../theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.html | 248 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.md | 206 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.html | 237 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.md | 205 + 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++ .../example/sherlock/ch09.html | 992 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.md | 969 + .../example/sherlock/ch10.html | 1021 ++ .../theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.md | 1031 ++ .../example/sherlock/ch11.html | 1162 ++ .../theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.md | 1132 ++ .../example/sherlock/ch12.html | 1172 ++ .../theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.md | 1151 ++ .../example/sherlock/contentinfo.html | 367 + .../example/sherlock/contentinfo.md | 362 + .../example/sherlock/copyright.html | 25 + .../example/sherlock/copyright.md | 21 + .../example/sherlock/cover.html | 16 + .../theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.md | 9 + .../@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css | 80 +- .../@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css.map | 2 +- .../@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/package.json | 2 +- .../theme-gutenberg/scss/_base.scss | 22 +- .../theme-gutenberg/scss/_legal_sections.scss | 3 +- .../theme-gutenberg/scss/alice.scss | 21 +- .../theme-gutenberg/scss/fang.scss | 32 +- .../theme-gutenberg/scss/sherlock.scss | 43 +- .../@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css | 93 +- .../theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css.map | 2 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css | 32 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css.map | 2 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css | 33 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css.map | 2 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css | 33 +- .../theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css.map | 2 +- .../theme-gutenberg/vivliostyle.config.js | 38 +- yarn.lock | 1165 +- 107 files changed, 52483 insertions(+), 53248 deletions(-) create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/fang/vivliostyle.config.js create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/sherlock/vivliostyle.config.js delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.html delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.md delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.html delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.md delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.html delete mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.md create mode 100644 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packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.md create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.html create mode 100644 packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.md diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css index 339449b..47e21c2 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css @@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -84,7 +84,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -102,7 +102,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -164,33 +164,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } @@ -209,34 +200,47 @@ body > footer { } @font-face { - font-family: "Crimson Text"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Roman.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Crimson Text'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Roman.ttf?raw=true'); } @font-face { - font-family: "Crimson Text"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Semibold.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Crimson Text'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Semibold.ttf?raw=true'); font-weight: bold; } @font-face { - font-family: "Crimson Text"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Italic.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Crimson Text'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Crimson-Italic.ttf?raw=true'); font-style: italic; } :root { - font-family: "Crimson Text", Georgia, serif; - font-feature-settings: "onum", "swsh"; + font-family: 'Crimson Text', Georgia, serif; + font-feature-settings: 'onum', 'swsh'; } @page { - font-family: "Crimson Text", Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Crimson Text', Georgia, serif; @top-center { - content: "Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland"; + content: 'Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland'; } } -.chap-num, +@page :first { + counter-reset: chapter; +} +@page story:nth(1) { + counter-increment: chapter; +} +.story section { + page: story; +} +.story section h2::before { + content: 'Chapter ' counter(chapter, upper-roman) '.'; + display: block; +} + h1, h2 { - font-feature-settings: "smcp"; + font-feature-settings: 'smcp'; font-variant: small-caps; } @@ -249,7 +253,7 @@ h2 { } .chap-num::after { - content: "\a"; + content: '\a'; white-space: pre-wrap; } diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css.map index 3ed2f43..0a00634 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/alice.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ 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\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc36034 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js @@ -0,0 +1,35 @@ +module.exports = { + language: 'en', + size: 'A5', + theme: 'alice.css', + entry: [ + 'example/alice/cover.md', + 'example/alice/copyright.md', + { + // TODO: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle-cli/issues/200 + rel: 'contents', + }, + 'example/alice/ch01.md', + 'example/alice/ch02.md', + 'example/alice/ch03.md', + 'example/alice/ch04.md', + 'example/alice/ch05.md', + 'example/alice/ch06.md', + 'example/alice/ch07.md', + 'example/alice/ch08.md', + 'example/alice/ch09.md', + 'example/alice/ch10.md', + 'example/alice/ch11.md', + 'example/alice/ch12.md', + 'example/alice/contentinfo.md', + ], + output: [ + 'book.pdf', + { + path: './book', + format: 'webpub', + }, + ], + toc: true, + tocTitle: 'Contents', +}; diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/fang/vivliostyle.config.js b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/fang/vivliostyle.config.js new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a02ea46 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/fang/vivliostyle.config.js @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +module.exports = { + language: 'en', + size: 'A5', + theme: 'fang.css', + entry: [ + 'example/fang/cover.md', + 'example/fang/copyright.md', + { + path: 'example/fang/toc.md', + rel: 'contents', + }, + 'example/fang/ch01.md', + 'example/fang/ch02.md', + 'example/fang/ch03.md', + 'example/fang/ch04.md', + 'example/fang/ch05.md', + 'example/fang/contentinfo.md', + ], + output: [ + 'book.pdf', + { + path: './book', + format: 'webpub', + }, + ], +}; diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/sherlock/vivliostyle.config.js b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/sherlock/vivliostyle.config.js new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a48acb --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/config/sherlock/vivliostyle.config.js @@ -0,0 +1,35 @@ +module.exports = { + language: 'en', + size: 'A5', + theme: 'sherlock.css', + entry: [ + 'example/sherlock/cover.md', + 'example/sherlock/copyright.md', + { + // TODO: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle-cli/issues/200 + rel: 'contents', + }, + 'example/sherlock/ch01.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch02.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch03.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch04.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch05.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch06.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch07.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch08.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch09.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch10.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch11.md', + 'example/sherlock/ch12.md', + 'example/sherlock/contentinfo.md', + ], + output: [ + 'book.pdf', + { + path: './book', + format: 'webpub', + }, + ], + toc: true, + tocTitle: 'Contents', +}; diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.html deleted file mode 100644 index 92cc7ec..0000000 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4519 +0,0 @@ - - - - - Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland - - - - -
-

Alice’s Adventures
In Wonderland

-
By Lewis Carroll
-
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 3.0
-
- -
-
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost - no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at - www.gutenberg.org -

Produced by Arthur DiBianca and David Widger

-
-
- -
-
-

- Chapter I. Down the Rabbit-Hole -

-

- Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the - bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into - the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or - conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice - ‘without pictures or conversations?’ -

-

- So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the - hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of - making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and - picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran - close by her. -

-

- There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice - think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to - itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over - afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at - this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the - Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and - looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it - flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with - either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning - with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was - just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. -

-

- In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how - in the world she was to get out again. -

-

- The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then - dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think - about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very - deep well. -

-

- Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had - plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what - was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out - what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she - looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled - with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and - pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves - as she passed; it was labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great - disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear - of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as - she fell past it. -

-

- ‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall - think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me - at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the - top of the house!’ (Which was very likely true.) -

-

- Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! ‘I - wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I - must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: - that would be four thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice - had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the - schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for - showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still - it was good practice to say it over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right - distance—but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ - (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought - they were nice grand words to say.) -

-

- Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right - through the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the - people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ - (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as - it didn’t sound at all the right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them - what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New - Zealand or Australia?’ (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy - curtseying as you’re falling through the air! Do you think you - could manage it?) ‘And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me - for asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written - up somewhere.’ -

-

- Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began - talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ - (Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at - tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are - no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s - very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here - Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a - dreamy sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and - sometimes, ‘Do bats eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer - either question, it didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt - that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was - walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, - ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?’ when - suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry - leaves, and the fall was over. -

-

- Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a - moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was - another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, - hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice - like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a - corner, ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!’ She was - close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no - longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was - lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. -

-

- There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and - when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying - every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was - ever to get out again. -

-

- Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid - glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s - first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the - hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too - small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the - second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed - before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she - tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it - fitted! -

-

- Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not - much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the - passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get - out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright - flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head - through the doorway; ‘and even if my head would go through,’ thought - poor Alice, ‘it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, - how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I - only knew how to begin.’ For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things - had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few - things indeed were really impossible. -

-

- There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went - back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at - any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this - time she found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here - before,’ said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper - label, with the words ‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large - letters. -

-

- It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was - not going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she - said, ‘and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she - had read several nice little histories about children who had got - burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all - because they would not remember the simple rules their friends - had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you - hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply - with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if - you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to - disagree with you, sooner or later. -

-

- However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured - to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of - mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, - toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. -

-
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
-

- ‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a - telescope.’ -

-

- And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face - brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going - through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she - waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any - further: she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you - know,’ said Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a - candle. I wonder what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy - what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for - she could not remember ever having seen such a thing. -

-

- After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on - going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got - to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and - when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not - possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, - and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but - it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, - the poor little thing sat down and cried. -

-

- ‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, - rather sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally - gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), - and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into - her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for - having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against - herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two - people. ‘But it’s no use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be - two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make - one respectable person!’ -

-

- Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the - table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the - words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat - it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; - and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either - way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ -

-

- She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which - way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it - was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the - same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but - Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but - out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid - for life to go on in the common way. -

-

- So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. -

-
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
-
-
-

- Chapter II. The Pool of Tears -

-

- ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, - that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now - I’m opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, - feet!’ (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost - out of sight, they were getting so far off). ‘Oh, my poor little feet, - I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? - I’m sure I - shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself - about you: you must manage the best way you can;—but I must be kind to - them,’ thought Alice, ‘or perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to - go! Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.’ -

-

- And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. ‘They - must go by the carrier,’ she thought; ‘and how funny it’ll seem, - sending presents to one’s own feet! And how odd the directions will - look!’ -

-
- Alice’s Right Foot, Esq. Hearthrug, near The Fender, (with Alice’s - love). -
-

- Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!’ -

-

- Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she - was now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little - golden key and hurried off to the garden door. -

-

- Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to - look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more - hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. -

-

- ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like - you,’ (she might well say this), ‘to go on crying in this way! Stop - this moment, I tell you!’ But she went on all the same, shedding - gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about - four inches deep and reaching half down the hall. -

-

- After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and - she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White - Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves - in one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a - great hurry, muttering to himself as he came, ‘Oh! the Duchess, the - Duchess! Oh! won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!’ Alice felt - so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the - Rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, ‘If you - please, sir—’ The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid - gloves and the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he - could go. -

-

- Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she - kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: ‘Dear, dear! - How queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as - usual. I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I - the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember - feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question - is, Who in the world am I? Ah, - that’s the great puzzle!’ And she began thinking over all the - children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she - could have been changed for any of them. -

-

- ‘I’m sure I’m not Ada,’ she said, ‘for her hair goes in such long - ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t - be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such - a very little! Besides, she’s she, and I’m I, and—oh - dear, how puzzling it all is! I’ll try if I know all the things I used - to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is - thirteen, and four times seven is—oh dear! I shall never get to twenty - at that rate! However, the Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s - try Geography. London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the - capital of Rome, and Rome—no, that’s all wrong, I’m certain! I - must have been changed for Mabel! I’ll try and say “How doth the little—”’ and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying - lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and - strange, and the words did not come the same as they used to do:— -

-
- ‘How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the - waters of the Nile On every golden scale! - 
 ’How cheerfully he seems to grin,
-  How neatly spread his claws,
- And welcome little fishes in
-  With gently smiling jaws!’
-
-

- ‘I’m sure those are not the right words,’ said poor Alice, and her - eyes filled with tears again as she went on, ‘I must be Mabel after - all, and I shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and - have next to no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to - learn! No, I’ve made up my mind about it; if I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down - here! It’ll be no use their putting their heads down and saying “Come - up again, dear!” I shall only look up and say “Who am I then? Tell me - that first, and then, if I like being that person, I’ll come up: if - not, I’ll stay down here till I’m somebody else”—but, oh dear!’ cried - Alice, with a sudden burst of tears, ‘I do wish they would put - their heads down! I am so very tired of being all alone here!’ -

-

- As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to - see that she had put on one of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves - while she was talking. ‘How can I have done that?’ she thought. - ‘I must be growing small again.’ She got up and went to the table to - measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, - she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: - she soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, - and she dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away - altogether. -

-

- ‘That was a narrow escape!’ said Alice, a good deal frightened - at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in - existence; ‘and now for the garden!’ and she ran with all speed back - to the little door: but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the - little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, ‘and things - are worse than ever,’ thought the poor child, ‘for I never was so - small as this before, never! And I declare it’s too bad, that it is!’ -

-

- As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, - splash! she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that - she had somehow fallen into the sea, ‘and in that case I can go back - by railway,’ she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once - in her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you - go to on the English coast you find a number of bathing machines in - the sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a - row of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) However, - she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept - when she was nine feet high. -

-

- ‘I wish I hadn’t cried so much!’ said Alice, as she swam about, trying - to find her way out. ‘I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by - being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to - be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.’ -

-

- Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way - off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought - it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small - she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had - slipped in like herself. -

-

- ‘Would it be of any use, now,’ thought Alice, ‘to speak to this mouse? - Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very - likely it can talk: at any rate, there’s no harm in trying.’ So she - began: ‘O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired - of swimming about here, O Mouse!’ (Alice thought this must be the - right way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing - before, but she remembered having seen in her brother’s Latin Grammar, - ‘A mouse—of a mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!’) The Mouse looked at - her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its - little eyes, but it said nothing. -

-

- ‘Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,’ thought Alice; ‘I daresay - it’s a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.’ (For, with - all her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long - ago anything had happened.) So she began again: ‘Ou est ma chatte?’ - which was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave - a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with - fright. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ cried Alice hastily, afraid that she - had hurt the poor animal’s feelings. ‘I quite forgot you didn’t like - cats.’ -

-

- ‘Not like cats!’ cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. - ‘Would - you like cats if you were me?’ -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps not,’ said Alice in a soothing tone: ‘don’t be angry - about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d - take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear - quiet thing,’ Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about - in the pool, ‘and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her - paws and washing her face—and she is such a nice soft thing to - nurse—and she’s such a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your - pardon!’ cried Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all - over, and she felt certain it must be really offended. ‘We won’t talk - about her any more if you’d rather not.’ -

-

- ‘We indeed!’ cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his - tail. ‘As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always - hated cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the - name again!’ -

-

- ‘I won’t indeed!’ said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject - of conversation. ‘Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?’ The Mouse did not - answer, so Alice went on eagerly: ‘There is such a nice little dog - near our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed - terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll - fetch things when you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its - dinner, and all sorts of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it - belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth - a hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats and—oh dear!’ cried - Alice in a sorrowful tone, ‘I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!’ For - the Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and - making quite a commotion in the pool as it went. -

-

- So she called softly after it, ‘Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we - won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!’ When - the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its - face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a - low trembling voice, ‘Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you - my history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.’ -

-

- It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with - the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a - Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice - led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. -

-
-
-

- Chapter III. A Caucus-Race and a Long - Tale -

-

- They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the - birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging - close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. -

-

- The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a - consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite - natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if - she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument - with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, ‘I am - older than you, and must know better’; and this Alice would not allow - without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to - tell its age, there was no more to be said. -

-

- At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, - called out, ‘Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I’ll soon - make you dry enough!’ They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with - the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, - for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry - very soon. -

-

- ‘Ahem!’ said the Mouse with an important air, ‘are you all ready? This - is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! “William - the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon - submitted to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late - much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the - earls of Mercia and Northumbria—”’ -

-

- ‘Ugh!’ said the Lory, with a shiver. -

-

- ‘I beg your pardon!’ said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: ‘Did - you speak?’ -

-

- ‘Not I!’ said the Lory hastily. -

-

- ‘I thought you did,’ said the Mouse. ‘—I proceed. “Edwin and Morcar, - the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even - Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—”’ -

-

‘Found what?’ said the Duck.

-

- ‘Found it,’ the Mouse replied rather crossly: ‘of course you - know what “it” means.’ -

-

- ‘I know what “it” means well enough, when I find a thing,’ said - the Duck: ‘it’s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did - the archbishop find?’ -

-

- The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, - ‘“—found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and - offer him the crown. William’s conduct at first was moderate. But the - insolence of his Normans—” How are you getting on now, my dear?’ it - continued, turning to Alice as it spoke. -

-

- ‘As wet as ever,’ said Alice in a melancholy tone: ‘it doesn’t seem to - dry me at all.’ -

-

- ‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move - that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic - remedies—’ -

-

- ‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half - those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ - And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other - birds tittered audibly. -

-

- ‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, - that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’ -

-

- ‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much - to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that - somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say - anything. -

-

- ‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, - as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will - tell you how the Dodo managed it.) -

-

- First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact - shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed - along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and - away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they - liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. - However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite - dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they - all crowded round it, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’ -

-

- This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of - thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its - forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the - pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo - said, ‘Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.’ -

-

- ‘But who is to give the prizes?’ quite a chorus of voices asked. -

-

- ‘Why, she, of course,’ said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with - one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out - in a confused way, ‘Prizes! Prizes!’ -

-

- Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her - pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had - not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly - one a-piece all round. -

-

- ‘But she must have a prize herself, you know,’ said the Mouse. -

-

- ‘Of course,’ the Dodo replied very gravely. ‘What else have you got in - your pocket?’ he went on, turning to Alice. -

-

- ‘Only a thimble,’ said Alice sadly. -

-

- ‘Hand it over here,’ said the Dodo. -

-

- Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly - presented the thimble, saying ‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant - thimble’; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all - cheered. -

-

- Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so - grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of - anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as - solemn as she could. -

-

- The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and - confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste - theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. - However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and - begged the Mouse to tell them something more. -

-

- ‘You promised to tell me your history, you know,’ said Alice, ‘and why - it is you hate—C and D,’ she added in a whisper, half afraid that it - would be offended again. -

-

- ‘Mine is a long and a sad tale!’ said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and - sighing. -

-

- ‘It is a long tail, certainly,’ said Alice, looking down with - wonder at the Mouse’s tail; ‘but why do you call it sad?’ And she kept - on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of - the tale was something like this:— -

-
- ‘Fury said to a mouse, That he met in the house, “Let us both go to - law: I will prosecute you.—Come, I’ll take no denial; We - must have a trial: For really this morning I’ve nothing to do.” Said - the mouse to the cur, “Such a trial, dear Sir, With no jury or judge, - would be wasting our breath.” “I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,” Said - cunning old Fury: “I’ll try the whole cause, and condemn you to - death.”’ -
-

- ‘You are not attending!’ said the Mouse to Alice severely. ‘What are - you thinking of?’ -

-

- ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Alice very humbly: ‘you had got to the fifth - bend, I think?’ -

-

‘I had not!’ cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.

-

- ‘A knot!’ said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking - anxiously about her. ‘Oh, do let me help to undo it!’ -

-

- ‘I shall do nothing of the sort,’ said the Mouse, getting up and - walking away. ‘You insult me by talking such nonsense!’ -

-

- ‘I didn’t mean it!’ pleaded poor Alice. ‘But you’re so easily - offended, you know!’ -

-

- The Mouse only growled in reply. -

-

- ‘Please come back and finish your story!’ Alice called after it; and - the others all joined in chorus, ‘Yes, please do!’ but the Mouse only - shook its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. -

-

- ‘What a pity it wouldn’t stay!’ sighed the Lory, as soon as it was - quite out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to - her daughter ‘Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose - your - temper!’ ’Hold your tongue, Ma!’ said the young Crab, a little - snappishly. ‘You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!’ -

-

- ‘I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!’ said Alice aloud, - addressing nobody in particular. ‘She’d soon fetch it back!’ -

-

- ‘And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?’ said the - Lory. -

-

- Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: - ‘Dinah’s our cat. And she’s such a capital one for catching mice you - can’t think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, - she’ll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!’ -

-

- This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the - birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up - very carefully, remarking, ‘I really must be getting home; the - night-air doesn’t suit my throat!’ and a Canary called out in a - trembling voice to its children, ‘Come away, my dears! It’s high time - you were all in bed!’ On various pretexts they all moved off, and - Alice was soon left alone. -

-

- ‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!’ she said to herself in a melancholy - tone. ‘Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I’m sure she’s the - best cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see - you any more!’ And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt - very lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again - heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked - up eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was - coming back to finish his story. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little - Bill -

-

- It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking - anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard - it muttering to itself ‘The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh - my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are - ferrets! Where - can I have dropped them, I wonder?’ Alice guessed in a moment - that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and - she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were - nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in - the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little - door, had vanished completely. -

-

- Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and - called out to her in an angry tone, ‘Why, Mary Ann, what - are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a - pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!’ And Alice was so much - frightened that she ran off at once in the direction it pointed to, - without trying to explain the mistake it had made. -

-

- ‘He took me for his housemaid,’ she said to herself as she ran. ‘How - surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him - his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.’ As she said this, she - came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass - plate with the name ‘W. RABBIT’ engraved upon it. She went in without - knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the - real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the - fan and gloves. -

-

- ‘How queer it seems,’ Alice said to herself, ‘to be going messages for - a rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on messages next!’ And she - began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: ‘“Miss Alice! Come - here directly, and get ready for your walk!” “Coming in a minute, - nurse! But I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.” Only I - don’t think,’ Alice went on, ‘that they’d let Dinah stop in the house - if it began ordering people about like that!’ -

-

- By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a - table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or - three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair - of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell - upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no - label this time with the words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she - uncorked it and put it to her lips. ‘I know - something interesting is sure to happen,’ she said to herself, - ‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see what this bottle - does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really I’m quite - tired of being such a tiny little thing!’ -

-

- It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she - had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the - ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She - hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself ‘That’s quite enough—I - hope I shan’t grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do - wish I hadn’t drunk quite so much!’ -

-

- Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, - and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there - was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down - with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her - head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one - arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to - herself ‘Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What - will become of me?’ -

-

- Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full - effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, - as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the - room again, no wonder she felt unhappy. -

-

- ‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t - always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and - rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and - yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what - can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I - fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the - middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there - ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,’ she - added in a sorrowful tone; ‘at least there’s no room to grow up any - more here.’ -

-

- ‘But then,’ thought Alice, ‘shall I never get any older than I - am now? That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but - then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like - that!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, you foolish Alice!’ she answered herself. ‘How can you learn - lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no room - at all for any lesson-books!’ -

-

- And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and - making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes - she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen. -

-

- ‘Mary Ann! Mary Ann!’ said the voice. ‘Fetch me my gloves this - moment!’ Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice - knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till - she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a - thousand times as large as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid - of it. -

-

- Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, - as the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard against - it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself ‘Then - I’ll go round and get in at the window.’ -

-

- ‘That you won’t’ thought Alice, and, after waiting till she - fancied she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly - spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get - hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a - crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just - possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the - sort. -

-

- Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—‘Pat! Pat! Where are you?’ And - then a voice she had never heard before, ‘Sure then I’m here! Digging - for apples, yer honour!’ -

-

- ‘Digging for apples, indeed!’ said the Rabbit angrily. ‘Here! Come and - help me out of this!’ (Sounds of more broken glass.) -

-

- ‘Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?’ -

-

- ‘Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!’ (He pronounced it ‘arrum.’) -

-

- ‘An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the - whole window!’ -

-

- ‘Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.’ -

-

- ‘Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!’ -

-

- There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear - whispers now and then; such as, ‘Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at - all, at all!’ ’Do as I tell you, you coward!’ and at last she spread - out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time - there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. - ‘What a number of cucumber-frames there must be!’ thought Alice. ‘I - wonder what they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I - only wish they could! I’m sure I don’t want to stay in - here any longer!’ -

-

- She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a - rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all - talking together: she made out the words: ‘Where’s the other - ladder?—Why, I hadn’t to bring but one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! - fetch it here, lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No, tie ’em - together first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do - well enough; don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold of this - rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! - Heads below!’ (a loud crash)—‘Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I - fancy—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, I shan’t! - You do it!—That I won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, - Bill! the master says you’re to go down the chimney!’ -

-

- ‘Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?’ said Alice to - herself. ‘Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in - Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; - but I - think I can kick a little!’ -

-

- She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited - till she heard a little animal (she couldn’t guess of what sort it - was) scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: - then, saying to herself ‘This is Bill,’ she gave one sharp kick, and - waited to see what would happen next. -

-

- The first thing she heard was a general chorus of ‘There goes Bill!’ - then the Rabbit’s voice along—‘Catch him, you by the hedge!’ then - silence, and then another confusion of voices—‘Hold up his head—Brandy - now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell - us all about it!’ -

-

- Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (‘That’s Bill,’ thought - Alice,) ‘Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but I’m - a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me - like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!’ -

-

- ‘So you did, old fellow!’ said the others. -

-

- ‘We must burn the house down!’ said the Rabbit’s voice; and Alice - called out as loud as she could, ‘If you do. I’ll set Dinah at you!’ -

-

- There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, ‘I - wonder what they will do next! If they had any sense, they’d - take the roof off.’ After a minute or two, they began moving about - again, and Alice heard the Rabbit say, ‘A barrowful will do, to begin - with.’ -

-

- ‘A barrowful of what?’ thought Alice; but she had not long to - doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in - at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. ‘I’ll put a stop - to this,’ she said to herself, and shouted out, ‘You’d better not do - that again!’ which produced another dead silence. -

-

- Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning - into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came - into her head. ‘If I eat one of these cakes,’ she thought, ‘it’s sure - to make some - change in my size; and as it can’t possibly make me larger, it must - make me smaller, I suppose.’ -

-

- So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she - began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get - through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of - little animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, - Bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were - giving it something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the - moment she appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon - found herself safe in a thick wood. -

-

- ‘The first thing I’ve got to do,’ said Alice to herself, as she - wandered about in the wood, ‘is to grow to my right size again; and - the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think - that will be the best plan.’ -

-

- It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply - arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea - how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among - the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in - a great hurry. -

-

- An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and - feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. ‘Poor little - thing!’ said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle - to it; but she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought - that it might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat - her up in spite of all her coaxing. -

-

- Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and - held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off - all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, - and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great - thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she - appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, - and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then - Alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a - cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, - ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short - charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and - a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it - sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its - mouth, and its great eyes half shut. -

-

- This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she - set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, - and till the puppy’s bark sounded quite faint in the distance. -

-

- ‘And yet what a dear little puppy it was!’ said Alice, as she leant - against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of - the leaves: ‘I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if - I’d only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten - that I’ve got to grow up again! Let me see—how is it to be - managed? I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the - great question is, what?’ -

-

- The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at - the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that - looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. - There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as - herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, - and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see - what was on the top of it. -

-

- She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the - mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, - that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a - long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything - else. -

-
-
-

- Chapter V. Advice from a Caterpillar -

-

- The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in - silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and - addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. -

-

‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.

-

- This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, - rather shyly, ‘I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know - who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have - been changed several times since then.’ -

-

- ‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain - yourself!’ -

-

- ‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because - I’m not myself, you see.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, - ‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many - different sizes in a day is very confusing.’ -

-

- ‘It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you - have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then - after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little - queer, won’t you?’ -

-

- ‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I - know is, it would feel very queer to me.’ -

-

‘You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. ‘Who are you?’

-

- Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. - Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar’s making such - very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very - gravely, ‘I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.’ -

-

- ‘Why?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of - any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a - very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. -

-

- ‘Come back!’ the Caterpillar called after her. ‘I’ve something - important to say!’ -

-

- This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. -

-

- ‘Keep your temper,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she - could. -

-

- ‘No,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, - and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For - some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded - its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, ‘So you - think you’re changed, do you?’ -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I am, sir,’ said Alice; ‘I can’t remember things as I - used—and I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!’ -

-

‘Can’t remember what things?’ said the Caterpillar.

-

- ‘Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all - came different!’ Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. -

-

- ‘Repeat, “You are old, Father William,”’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Alice folded her hands, and began:— -

-
- ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said, ‘And your hair has - become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head— Do you - think, at your age, it is right?’ -

- ‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son, ‘I feared it might - injure the brain; But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, Why, - I do it again and again.’ -

-

- ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before, And have - grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at - the door— Pray, what is the reason of that?’ -

-

- ‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, ‘I kept - all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment—one shilling - the box— Allow me to sell you a couple?’ -

-

- ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak For - anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the - bones and the beak— Pray how did you manage to do it?’ -

-

- ‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law, And argued each - case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my - jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life.’ -

-

- ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose That your - eye was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of - your nose— What made you so awfully clever?’ -

-

- ‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’ Said his - father; ‘don’t give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day - to such stuff? Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’ -

-
-

- ‘That is not said right,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Not quite right, I’m afraid,’ said Alice, timidly; ‘some of - the words have got altered.’ -

-

- ‘It is wrong from beginning to end,’ said the Caterpillar decidedly, - and there was silence for some minutes. -

-

- The Caterpillar was the first to speak. -

-

- ‘What size do you want to be?’ it asked. -

-

- ‘Oh, I’m not particular as to size,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘only one - doesn’t like changing so often, you know.’ -

-

‘I don’t know,’ said the Caterpillar.

-

- Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her - life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. -

-

- ‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you - wouldn’t mind,’ said Alice: ‘three inches is such a wretched height to - be.’ -

-

- ‘It is a very good height indeed!’ said the Caterpillar angrily, - rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). -

-

- ‘But I’m not used to it!’ pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And - she thought of herself, ‘I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily - offended!’ -

-

- ‘You’ll get used to it in time,’ said the Caterpillar; and it put the - hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. -

-

- This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a - minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and - yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the - mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, - ‘One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you - grow shorter.’ -

-

- ‘One side of what? The other side of what?’ thought - Alice to herself. -

-

- ‘Of the mushroom,’ said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it - aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. -

-

- Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, - trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was - perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at - last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and - broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. -

-

- ‘And now which is which?’ she said to herself, and nibbled a little of - the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a - violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! -

-

- She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she - felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; - so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was - pressed so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to - open her mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a - morsel of the lefthand bit. -

-
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
-

- ‘Come, my head’s free at last!’ said Alice in a tone of delight, which - changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her - shoulders were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked - down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk - out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her. -

-

- ‘What can all that green stuff be?’ said Alice. ‘And where - have my shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I - can’t see you?’ She was moving them about as she spoke, but no result - seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green - leaves. -

-

- As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, - she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that - her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She - had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was - going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but - the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp - hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her - face, and was beating her violently with its wings. -

-

- ‘Serpent!’ screamed the Pigeon. -

-

- ‘I’m not a serpent!’ said Alice indignantly. ‘Let me alone!’ -

-

- ‘Serpent, I say again!’ repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued - tone, and added with a kind of sob, ‘I’ve tried every way, and nothing - seems to suit them!’ -

-

- ‘I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried - hedges,’ the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; ‘but those - serpents! There’s no pleasing them!’ -

-

- Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in - saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. -

-

- ‘As if it wasn’t trouble enough hatching the eggs,’ said the Pigeon; - ‘but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I - haven’t had a wink of sleep these three weeks!’ -

-

- ‘I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,’ said Alice, who was beginning to - see its meaning. -

-

- ‘And just as I’d taken the highest tree in the wood,’ continued the - Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, ‘and just as I was thinking I - should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down - from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!’ -

-

- ‘But I’m not a serpent, I tell you!’ said Alice. ‘I’m a—I’m a—’ -

-

- ‘Well! What are you?’ said the Pigeon. ‘I can see you’re trying - to invent something!’ -

-

- ‘I—I’m a little girl,’ said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she - remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day. -

-

- ‘A likely story indeed!’ said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest - contempt. ‘I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never - one - with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s no use - denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never tasted - an egg!’ -

-

- ‘I have tasted eggs, certainly,’ said Alice, who was a very - truthful child; ‘but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents - do, you know.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t believe it,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but if they do, why then - they’re a kind of serpent, that’s all I can say.’ -

-

- This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a - minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, - ‘You’re looking for eggs, I know that well enough; and what - does it matter to me whether you’re a little girl or a serpent?’ -

-

- ‘It matters a good deal to me,’ said Alice hastily; ‘but I’m - not looking for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn’t want - yours: I don’t like them raw.’ -

-

- ‘Well, be off, then!’ said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled - down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well - as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, - and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while - she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her - hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and - then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, - until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. -

-

- It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that - it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few - minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual. ‘Come, there’s half - my plan done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure - what I’m going to be, from one minute to another! However, I’ve got - back to my right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful - garden—how is that to be done, I wonder?’ As she said this, she - came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four - feet high. ‘Whoever lives there,’ thought Alice, ‘it’ll never do to - come upon them this size: why, I should frighten them out of - their wits!’ So she began nibbling at the righthand bit again, and did - not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to - nine inches high. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VI. Pig and Pepper -

-

- For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what - to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the - wood—(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: - otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a - fish)—and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened - by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a - frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled - all over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all - about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. -

-

- The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, - nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, - saying, in a solemn tone, ‘For the Duchess. An invitation from the - Queen to play croquet.’ The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn - tone, only changing the order of the words a little, ‘From the Queen. - An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.’ -

-

- Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. -

-

- Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood - for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the - Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near - the door, staring stupidly up into the sky. -

-

- Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. -

-

- ‘There’s no sort of use in knocking,’ said the Footman, ‘and that for - two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you - are; secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one - could possibly hear you.’ And certainly there was a most - extraordinary noise going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, - and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been - broken to pieces. -

-

- ‘Please, then,’ said Alice, ‘how am I to get in?’ -

-

- ‘There might be some sense in your knocking,’ the Footman went on - without attending to her, ‘if we had the door between us. For - instance, if you were inside, you might knock, and I could let - you out, you know.’ He was looking up into the sky all the time he was - speaking, and this Alice thought decidedly uncivil. ‘But perhaps he - can’t help it,’ she said to herself; ‘his eyes are so - very nearly at the top of his head. But at any rate he might - answer questions.—How am I to get in?’ she repeated, aloud. -

-

- ‘I shall sit here,’ the Footman remarked, ‘till tomorrow—’ -

-

- At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came - skimming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, - and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. -

-

- ‘—or next day, maybe,’ the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly - as if nothing had happened. -

-

- ‘How am I to get in?’ asked Alice again, in a louder tone. -

-

- ‘Are you to get in at all?’ said the Footman. ‘That’s the first - question, you know.’ -

-

- It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. ‘It’s really - dreadful,’ she muttered to herself, ‘the way all the creatures argue. - It’s enough to drive one crazy!’ -

-

- The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his - remark, with variations. ‘I shall sit here,’ he said, ‘on and off, for - days and days.’ -

-

‘But what am I to do?’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Anything you like,’ said the Footman, and began whistling. -

-

- ‘Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,’ said Alice desperately: ‘he’s - perfectly idiotic!’ And she opened the door and went in. -

-

- The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from - one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool - in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, - stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. -

-

- ‘There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!’ Alice said to - herself, as well as she could for sneezing. -

-

- There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess - sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling - alternately without a moment’s pause. The only things in the kitchen - that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting - on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. -

-

- ‘Please would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, for she was - not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, - ‘why your cat grins like that?’ -

-

- ‘It’s a Cheshire cat,’ said the Duchess, ‘and that’s why. Pig!’ -

-

- She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite - jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the - baby, and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:— -

-

- ‘I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t - know that cats could grin.’ -

-

- ‘They all can,’ said the Duchess; ‘and most of ’em do.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t know of any that do,’ Alice said very politely, feeling quite - pleased to have got into a conversation. -

-

- ‘You don’t know much,’ said the Duchess; ‘and that’s a fact.’ -

-

- Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it - would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. - While she was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup - off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her - reach at the Duchess and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then - followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took - no notice of them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so - much already, that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows - hurt it or not. -

-

- ‘Oh, please mind what you’re doing!’ cried Alice, jumping up - and down in an agony of terror. ‘Oh, there goes his - precious nose’; as an unusually large saucepan flew close by - it, and very nearly carried it off. -

-

- ‘If everybody minded their own business,’ the Duchess said in a hoarse - growl, ‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’ -

-

- ‘Which would not be an advantage,’ said Alice, who felt very - glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. - ‘Just think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see - the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—’ -

-

- ‘Talking of axes,’ said the Duchess, ‘chop off her head!’ -

-

- Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to - take the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed - not to be listening, so she went on again: ‘Twenty-four hours, I - think; or is it twelve? I—’ -

-

- ‘Oh, don’t bother me,’ said the Duchess; ‘I never could abide - figures!’ And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a - sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at - the end of every line: -

-
- ‘Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes: He - only does it to annoy, Because he knows it teases.’ - 
     CHORUS.
-

(In which the cook and the baby joined):—

- 
   ‘Wow! wow! wow!’
-
-

- While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing - the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, - that Alice could hardly hear the words:— -

-
- ‘I speak severely to my boy, I beat him when he sneezes; For he can - thoroughly enjoy The pepper when he pleases!’ - 
     CHORUS.
-
-   ‘Wow! wow! wow!’
-
-

- ‘Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!’ the Duchess said to - Alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. ‘I must go and get ready - to play croquet with the Queen,’ and she hurried out of the room. The - cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed - her. -

-

- Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped - little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, - ‘just like a star-fish,’ thought Alice. The poor little thing was - snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling - itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for - the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. -

-

- As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was - to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its - right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she - carried it out into the open air. ‘If I don’t take this child away - with me,’ thought Alice, ‘they’re sure to kill it in a day or two: - wouldn’t it be murder to leave it behind?’ She said the last words out - loud, and the little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing - by this time). ‘Don’t grunt,’ said Alice; ‘that’s not at all a proper - way of expressing yourself.’ -

-

- The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face - to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it - had a - very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; - also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether - Alice did not like the look of the thing at all. ‘But perhaps it was - only sobbing,’ she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if - there were any tears. -

-

- No, there were no tears. ‘If you’re going to turn into a pig, my - dear,’ said Alice, seriously, ‘I’ll have nothing more to do with you. - Mind now!’ The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was - impossible to say which), and they went on for some while in silence. -

-

- Alice was just beginning to think to herself, ‘Now, what am I to do - with this creature when I get it home?’ when it grunted again, so - violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time - there could be - no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, - and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it - further. -

-

- So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it - trot away quietly into the wood. ‘If it had grown up,’ she said to - herself, ‘it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes - rather a handsome pig, I think.’ And she began thinking over other - children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying - to herself, ‘if one only knew the right way to change them—’ when she - was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of - a tree a few yards off. -

-

- The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she - thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, - so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect. -

-

- ‘Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know - whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little - wider. ‘Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. - ‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’ -

-

- ‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘I don’t much care where—’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘—so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation. -

-

- ‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long - enough.’ -

-

- Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another - question. ‘What sort of people live about here?’ -

-

- ‘In that direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, - ‘lives a Hatter: and in that direction,’ waving the other paw, - ‘lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’ -

-

- ‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked. -

-

- ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: ‘we’re all mad here. I’m mad. - You’re mad.’ -

-

- ‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’ -

-

- Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on ‘And - how do you know that you’re mad?’ -

-

- ‘To begin with,’ said the Cat, ‘a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’ -

-

- ‘I suppose so,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Well, then,’ the Cat went on, ‘you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, - and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m - pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.’ -

-

‘I call it purring, not growling,’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Call it what you like,’ said the Cat. ‘Do you play croquet with the - Queen to-day?’ -

-

- ‘I should like it very much,’ said Alice, ‘but I haven’t been invited - yet.’ -

-

- ‘You’ll see me there,’ said the Cat, and vanished. -

-

- Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer - things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had - been, it suddenly appeared again. -

-

- ‘By-the-bye, what became of the baby?’ said the Cat. ‘I’d nearly - forgotten to ask.’ -

-

- ‘It turned into a pig,’ Alice quietly said, just as if it had come - back in a natural way. -

-

- ‘I thought it would,’ said the Cat, and vanished again. -

-

- Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not - appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in - which the March Hare was said to live. ‘I’ve seen hatters before,’ she - said to herself; ‘the March Hare will be much the most interesting, - and perhaps as this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad - as it was in March.’ As she said this, she looked up, and there was - the Cat again, sitting on a branch of a tree. -

-

- ‘Did you say pig, or fig?’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘I said pig,’ replied Alice; ‘and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing - and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.’ -

-

- ‘All right,’ said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, - beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which - remained some time after the rest of it had gone. -

-

- ‘Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ thought Alice; ‘but a - grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my - life!’ -

-

- She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of - the March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the - chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It - was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had - nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself - to about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather - timidly, saying to herself ‘Suppose it should be raving mad after all! - I almost wish I’d gone to see the Hatter instead!’ -

-
-
-

- Chapter VII. A Mad Tea-Party -

-

- There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the - March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was - sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as - a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. - ‘Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; ‘only, as it’s - asleep, I suppose it doesn’t mind.’ -

-

- The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at - one corner of it: ‘No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw - Alice coming. ‘There’s plenty of room!’ said Alice indignantly, - and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. -

-

- ‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone. -

-

- Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. - ‘I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked. -

-

- ‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily. -

-

- ‘It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,’ said - the March Hare. -

-

- ‘I didn’t know it was your table,’ said Alice; ‘it’s laid for a - great many more than three.’ -

-

- ‘Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been looking at - Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first - speech. -

-

- ‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some - severity; ‘it’s very rude.’ -

-

- The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he - said was, ‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’ -

-

- ‘Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they’ve - begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud. -

-

- ‘Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said - the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Exactly so,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on. -

-

- ‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least—at least I mean what I - say—that’s the same thing, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. ‘You might just as well - say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’ -

-

- ‘You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, ‘that “I like what - I get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’ -

-

- ‘You might just as well say,’ added the Dormouse, who seemed to be - talking in his sleep, ‘that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing - as “I sleep when I breathe”!’ -

-

- ‘It is the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the - conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while - Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and - writing-desks, which wasn’t much. -

-

- The Hatter was the first to break the silence. ‘What day of the month - is it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his - pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, - and holding it to his ear. -

-

- Alice considered a little, and then said ‘The fourth.’ -

-

- ‘Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. ‘I told you butter wouldn’t suit - the works!’ he added looking angrily at the March Hare. -

-

‘It was the best butter,’ the March Hare meekly replied.

-

- ‘Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter grumbled: - ‘you shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.’ -

-

- The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he - dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could - think of nothing better to say than his first remark, ‘It was the - best butter, you know.’ -

-

- Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. ‘What a - funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the month, and - doesn’t tell what o’clock it is!’ -

-

- ‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does your watch tell you - what year it is?’ -

-

- ‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s because it - stays the same year for such a long time together.’ -

-

‘Which is just the case with mine,’ said the Hatter.

-

- Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no - sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. ‘I don’t - quite understand you,’ she said, as politely as she could. -

-

- ‘The Dormouse is asleep again,’ said the Hatter, and he poured a - little hot tea upon its nose. -

-

- The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its - eyes, ‘Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.’ -

-

- ‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice - again. -

-

- ‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘what’s the answer?’ -

-

- ‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘Nor I,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- Alice sighed wearily. ‘I think you might do something better with the - time,’ she said, ‘than waste it in asking riddles that have no - answers.’ -

-

- ‘If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you wouldn’t - talk about wasting it. It’s him.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Of course you don’t!’ the Hatter said, tossing his head - contemptuously. ‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’ -

-

- ‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have to beat - time when I learn music.’ -

-

- ‘Ah! that accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand beating. - Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything - you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock - in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper - a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past - one, time for dinner!’ -

-

- (‘I only wish it was,’ the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) -

-

- ‘That would be grand, certainly,’ said Alice thoughtfully: ‘but then—I - shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Not at first, perhaps,’ said the Hatter: ‘but you could keep it to - half-past one as long as you liked.’ -

-

‘Is that the way you manage?’ Alice asked.

-

- The Hatter shook his head mournfully. ‘Not I!’ he replied. ‘We - quarrelled last March—just before he went mad, you know—’ - (pointing with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) ’—it was at the great - concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing -

-
- “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you’re at!” -
-

- You know the song, perhaps?’ -

-

- ‘I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, ‘in this way:— -

-
- “Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky. Twinkle, - twinkle—”’ -
-

- Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep ‘Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—’ and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop. -

-

- ‘Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the Hatter, ‘when - the Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s murdering the time! Off with - his head!”’ -

-

- ‘How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice. -

-

- ‘And ever since that,’ the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, ‘he - won’t do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.’ -

-

- A bright idea came into Alice’s head. ‘Is that the reason so many - tea-things are put out here?’ she asked. -

-

- ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said the Hatter with a sigh: ‘it’s always tea-time, - and we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.’ -

-

- ‘Then you keep moving round, I suppose?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Exactly so,’ said the Hatter: ‘as the things get used up.’ -

-

- ‘But what happens when you come to the beginning again?’ Alice - ventured to ask. -

-

- ‘Suppose we change the subject,’ the March Hare interrupted, yawning. - ‘I’m getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.’ -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I don’t know one,’ said Alice, rather alarmed at the - proposal. -

-

- ‘Then the Dormouse shall!’ they both cried. ‘Wake up, Dormouse!’ And - they pinched it on both sides at once. -

-

- The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he said in a - hoarse, feeble voice: ‘I heard every word you fellows were saying.’ -

-

- ‘Tell us a story!’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Yes, please do!’ pleaded Alice. -

-

- ‘And be quick about it,’ added the Hatter, ‘or you’ll be asleep again - before it’s done.’ -

-

- ‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters,’ the Dormouse began - in a great hurry; ‘and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and - they lived at the bottom of a well—’ -

-

- ‘What did they live on?’ said Alice, who always took a great interest - in questions of eating and drinking. -

-

- ‘They lived on treacle,’ said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or - two. -

-

- ‘They couldn’t have done that, you know,’ Alice gently remarked; - ‘they’d have been ill.’ -

-

‘So they were,’ said the Dormouse; ‘very ill.’

-

- Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of - living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: - ‘But why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ -

-

- ‘Take some more tea,’ the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. -

-

- ‘I’ve had nothing yet,’ Alice replied in an offended tone, ‘so I can’t - take more.’ -

-

- ‘You mean you can’t take less,’ said the Hatter: ‘it’s very - easy to take more than nothing.’ -

-

‘Nobody asked your opinion,’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Who’s making personal remarks now?’ the Hatter asked triumphantly. -

-

- Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to - some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and - repeated her question. ‘Why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ -

-

- The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then - said, ‘It was a treacle-well.’ -

-

- ‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, but the - Hatter and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the Dormouse sulkily - remarked, ‘If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for - yourself.’ -

-

- ‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t interrupt again. - I dare say there may be one.’ -

-

- ‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to - go on. ‘And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, - you know—’ -

-

- ‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her promise. -

-

- ‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time. -

-

- ‘I want a clean cup,’ interrupted the Hatter: ‘let’s all move one - place on.’ -

-

- He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare - moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the - place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any - advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than - before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. -

-

- Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very - cautiously: ‘But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle - from?’ -

-

- ‘You can draw water out of a water-well,’ said the Hatter; ‘so I - should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?’ -

-

- ‘But they were in the well,’ Alice said to the Dormouse, not - choosing to notice this last remark. -

-

- ‘Of course they were’, said the Dormouse; ‘—well in.’ -

-

- This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on - for some time without interrupting it. -

-

- ‘They were learning to draw,’ the Dormouse went on, yawning and - rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; ‘and they drew all - manner of things—everything that begins with an M—’ -

-

- ‘Why with an M?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Why not?’ said the March Hare. -

-

- Alice was silent. -

-

- The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into - a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a - little shriek, and went on: ‘—that begins with an M, such as - mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say - things are “much of a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a - drawing of a muchness?’ -

-

- ‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, very much confused, ‘I don’t - think—’ -

-

- ‘Then you shouldn’t talk,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in - great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and - neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she - looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: - the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into - the teapot. -

-

- ‘At any rate I’ll never go there again!’ said Alice as she - picked her way through the wood. ‘It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever - was at in all my life!’ -

-

- Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door - leading right into it. ‘That’s very curious!’ she thought. ‘But - everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.’ And - in she went. -

-

- Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little - glass table. ‘Now, I’ll manage better this time,’ she said to herself, - and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that - led into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom - (she had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot - high: then she walked down the little passage: and then—she - found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright - flower-beds and the cool fountains. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VIII. The Queen’s Croquet-Ground -

-

- A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses - growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily - painting them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she - went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard - one of them say, ‘Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me - like that!’ -

-

- ‘I couldn’t help it,’ said Five, in a sulky tone; ‘Seven jogged my - elbow.’ -

-

- On which Seven looked up and said, ‘That’s right, Five! Always lay the - blame on others!’ -

-

- ‘You’d better not talk!’ said Five. ‘I heard the Queen say only - yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!’ -

-

- ‘What for?’ said the one who had spoken first. -

-

‘That’s none of your business, Two!’ said Seven.

-

- ‘Yes, it is his business!’ said Five, ‘and I’ll tell him—it was - for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.’ -

-

- Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun ‘Well, of all the - unjust things—’ when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood - watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked - round also, and all of them bowed low. -

-

- ‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are - painting those roses?’ -

-

- Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low - voice, ‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a - red - rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was - to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you - see, Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to—’ At this moment - Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out - ‘The Queen! The Queen!’ and the three gardeners instantly threw - themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, - and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen. -

-

- First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the - three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the - corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with - diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these - came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears - came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all - ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, - and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a - hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went - by without noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying - the King’s crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this - grand procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. -

-

- Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her - face like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having - heard of such a rule at processions; ‘and besides, what would be the - use of a procession,’ thought she, ‘if people had all to lie down upon - their faces, so that they couldn’t see it?’ So she stood still where - she was, and waited. -

-

- When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and - looked at her, and the Queen said severely ‘Who is this?’ She said it - to the Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. -

-

- ‘Idiot!’ said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to - Alice, she went on, ‘What’s your name, child?’ -

-

- ‘My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,’ said Alice very politely; - but she added, to herself, ‘Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after - all. I needn’t be afraid of them!’ -

-

- ‘And who are these?’ said the Queen, pointing to the three - gardeners who were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they - were lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same - as the rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were - gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. -

-

- ‘How should I know?’ said Alice, surprised at her own courage. - ‘It’s no business of mine.’ -

-

- The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a - moment like a wild beast, screamed ‘Off with her head! Off—’ -

-

- ‘Nonsense!’ said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was - silent. -

-

- The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said ‘Consider, my - dear: she is only a child!’ -

-

- The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave ‘Turn - them over!’ -

-

- The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. -

-

- ‘Get up!’ said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three - gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the - Queen, the royal children, and everybody else. -

-

- ‘Leave off that!’ screamed the Queen. ‘You make me giddy.’ And then, - turning to the rose-tree, she went on, ‘What have you been - doing here?’ -

-

- ‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Two, in a very humble tone, going - down on one knee as he spoke, ‘we were trying—’ -

-

- ‘I see!’ said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the - roses. ‘Off with their heads!’ and the procession moved on, three of - the soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, - who ran to Alice for protection. -

-

- ‘You shan’t be beheaded!’ said Alice, and she put them into a large - flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a - minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after - the others. -

-

- ‘Are their heads off?’ shouted the Queen. -

-

- ‘Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!’ the soldiers - shouted in reply. -

-

- ‘That’s right!’ shouted the Queen. ‘Can you play croquet?’ -

-

- The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was - evidently meant for her. -

-

- ‘Yes!’ shouted Alice. -

-

- ‘Come on, then!’ roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, - wondering very much what would happen next. -

-

- ‘It’s—it’s a very fine day!’ said a timid voice at her side. She was - walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. -

-

- ‘Very,’ said Alice: ‘—where’s the Duchess?’ -

-

- ‘Hush! Hush!’ said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked - anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon - tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered ‘She’s under - sentence of execution.’ -

-

- ‘What for?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Did you say “What a pity!”?’ the Rabbit asked. -

-

- ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Alice: ‘I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said - “What for?”’ -

-

- ‘She boxed the Queen’s ears—’ the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little - scream of laughter. ‘Oh, hush!’ the Rabbit whispered in a frightened - tone. ‘The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the - Queen said—’ -

-

- ‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and - people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each - other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game - began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground - in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live - hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double - themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the - arches. -

-

- The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her - flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably - enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just - as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give - the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round - and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could - not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, - and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the - hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: - besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way - wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up - soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the - ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult - game indeed. -

-

- The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling - all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short - time the Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and - shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with her head!’ about once in a - minute. -

-

- Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had - any dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any - minute, ‘and then,’ thought she, ‘what would become of me? They’re - dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that - there’s any one left alive!’ -

-

- She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether - she could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious - appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after - watching it a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she - said to herself ‘It’s the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to - talk to.’ -

-

- ‘How are you getting on?’ said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth - enough for it to speak with. -

-

- Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. ‘It’s no use - speaking to it,’ she thought, ‘till its ears have come, or at least - one of them.’ In another minute the whole head appeared, and then - Alice put down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling - very glad she had someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think - that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. -

-

- ‘I don’t think they play at all fairly,’ Alice began, in rather a - complaining tone, ‘and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear - oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; at - least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea how - confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there’s the - arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the - ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, only - it ran away when it saw mine coming!’ -

-

- ‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice. -

-

- ‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely—’ Just then she noticed - that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, - ‘—likely to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ -

-

- The Queen smiled and passed on. -

-

- ‘Who are you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and - looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity. -

-

- ‘It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to - introduce it.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may - kiss my hand if it likes.’ -

-

- ‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked. -

-

- ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like - that!’ He got behind Alice as he spoke. -

-

- ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, - but I don’t remember where.’ -

-

- ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he - called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you - would have this cat removed!’ -

-

- The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or - small. ‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. -

-

- ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he - hurried off. -

-

- Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was - going on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming - with passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players - to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the - look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she - never knew whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of - her hedgehog. -

-

- The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which - seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them - with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone - across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it - trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree. -

-

- By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight - was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: ‘but it doesn’t - matter much,’ thought Alice, ‘as all the arches are gone from this - side of the ground.’ So she tucked it away under her arm, that it - might not escape again, and went back for a little more conversation - with her friend. -

-

- When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite - a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between - the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at - once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very - uncomfortable. -

-

- The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle - the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as - they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out - exactly what they said. -

-

- The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head - unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to - do such a thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at - his time of life. -

-

- The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be - beheaded, and that you weren’t to talk nonsense. -

-

- The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in - less than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It was - this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave and - anxious.) -

-

- Alice could think of nothing else to say but ‘It belongs to the - Duchess: you’d better ask her about it.’ -

-

- ‘She’s in prison,’ the Queen said to the executioner: ‘fetch her - here.’ And the executioner went off like an arrow. -

-

- The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by the - time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely disappeared; - so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, - while the rest of the party went back to the game. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IX. The Mock Turtle’s Story -

-

- ‘You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!’ - said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, - and they walked off together. -

-

- Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought - to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so - savage when they met in the kitchen. -

-

- ‘When I’m a Duchess,’ she said to herself, (not in a very - hopeful tone though), ‘I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen - at all. Soup does very well without—Maybe it’s always pepper - that makes people hot-tempered,’ she went on, very much pleased at - having found out a new kind of rule, ‘and vinegar that makes them - sour—and camomile that makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such - things that make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew - that: then they wouldn’t be so stingy about it, you know—’ -

-

- She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little - startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. ‘You’re thinking - about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t - tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it - in a bit.’ -

-

- ‘Perhaps it hasn’t one,’ Alice ventured to remark. -

-

- ‘Tut, tut, child!’ said the Duchess. ‘Everything’s got a moral, if - only you can find it.’ And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice’s - side as she spoke. -

-

- Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the - Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly - the right height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder, and it was an - uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she - bore it as well as she could. -

-

- ‘The game’s going on rather better now,’ she said, by way of keeping - up the conversation a little. -

-

- ‘’Tis so,’ said the Duchess: ‘and the moral of that is—“Oh, ’tis love, - ’tis love, that makes the world go round!”’ -

-

- ‘Somebody said,’ Alice whispered, ‘that it’s done by everybody minding - their own business!’ -

-

- ‘Ah, well! It means much the same thing,’ said the Duchess, digging - her sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, ‘and the - moral of - that is—“Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care - of themselves.”’ -

-

- ‘How fond she is of finding morals in things!’ Alice thought to - herself. -

-

- ‘I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist,’ - the Duchess said after a pause: ‘the reason is, that I’m doubtful - about the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?’ -

-

- ‘He might bite,’ Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious - to have the experiment tried. -

-

- ‘Very true,’ said the Duchess: ‘flamingoes and mustard both bite. And - the moral of that is—“Birds of a feather flock together.”’ -

-

- ‘Only mustard isn’t a bird,’ Alice remarked. -

-

- ‘Right, as usual,’ said the Duchess: ‘what a clear way you have of - putting things!’ -

-

‘It’s a mineral, I think,’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Of course it is,’ said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to - everything that Alice said; ‘there’s a large mustard-mine near here. - And the moral of that is—“The more there is of mine, the less there is - of yours.”’ -

-

- ‘Oh, I know!’ exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last - remark, ‘it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.’ -

-

- ‘I quite agree with you,’ said the Duchess; ‘and the moral of that - is—“Be what you would seem to be”—or if you’d like it put more - simply—“Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might - appear to others that what you were or might have been was not - otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be - otherwise.”’ -

-

- ‘I think I should understand that better,’ Alice said very politely, - ‘if I had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.’ -

-

- ‘That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,’ the Duchess replied, - in a pleased tone. -

-

- ‘Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,’ said - Alice. -

-

- ‘Oh, don’t talk about trouble!’ said the Duchess. ‘I make you a - present of everything I’ve said as yet.’ -

-

- ‘A cheap sort of present!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they don’t give - birthday presents like that!’ But she did not venture to say it out - loud. -

-

- ‘Thinking again?’ the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp - little chin. -

-

- ‘I’ve a right to think,’ said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to - feel a little worried. -

-

- ‘Just about as much right,’ said the Duchess, ‘as pigs have to fly; - and the m—’ -

-

- But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died away, - even in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral,’ and the arm that was - linked into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood - the Queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a - thunderstorm. -

-

- ‘A fine day, your Majesty!’ the Duchess began in a low, weak voice. -

-

- ‘Now, I give you fair warning,’ shouted the Queen, stamping on the - ground as she spoke; ‘either you or your head must be off, and that in - about half no time! Take your choice!’ -

-

- The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. -

-

- ‘Let’s go on with the game,’ the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was - too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the - croquet-ground. -

-

- The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and were - resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried - back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment’s delay - would cost them their lives. -

-

- All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling - with the other players, and shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with - her head!’ Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the - soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so - that by the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and - all the players, except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in - custody and under sentence of execution. -

-

- Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, ‘Have - you seen the Mock Turtle yet?’ -

-

- ‘No,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.’ -

-

- ‘It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,’ said the Queen. -

-

- ‘I never saw one, or heard of one,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Come on, then,’ said the Queen, ‘and he shall tell you his history,’ -

-

- As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, - to the company generally, ‘You are all pardoned.’ ’Come, - that’s a good thing!’ she said to herself, for she had felt - quite unhappy at the number of executions the Queen had ordered. -

-

- They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If - you don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) ‘Up, lazy - thing!’ said the Queen, ‘and take this young lady to see the Mock - Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see after some - executions I have ordered’; and she walked off, leaving Alice alone - with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, - but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it - as to go after that savage Queen: so she waited. -

-

- The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till - she was out of sight: then it chuckled. ‘What fun!’ said the Gryphon, - half to itself, half to Alice. -

-

‘What is the fun?’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Why, she,’ said the Gryphon. ‘It’s all her fancy, that: they - never executes nobody, you know. Come on!’ -

-

- ‘Everybody says “come on!” here,’ thought Alice, as she went slowly - after it: ‘I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!’ -

-

- They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, - sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came - nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She - pitied him deeply. ‘What is his sorrow?’ she asked the Gryphon, and - the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, ‘It’s - all his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’ -

-

- So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes - full of tears, but said nothing. -

-

- ‘This here young lady,’ said the Gryphon, ‘she wants for to know your - history, she do.’ -

-

- ‘I’ll tell it her,’ said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: ‘sit - down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’ -

-

- So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to - herself, ‘I don’t see how he can ever finish, if he doesn’t - begin.’ But she waited patiently. -

-

- ‘Once,’ said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, ‘I was a real - Turtle.’ -

-

- These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an - occasional exclamation of ‘Hjckrrh!’ from the Gryphon, and the - constant heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly - getting up and saying, ‘Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,’ - but she could not help thinking there must be more to come, so - she sat still and said nothing. -

-

- ‘When we were little,’ the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, - though still sobbing a little now and then, ‘we went to school in the - sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—’ -

-

- ‘Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?’ Alice asked. -

-

- ‘We called him Tortoise because he taught us,’ said the Mock Turtle - angrily: ‘really you are very dull!’ -

-

- ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple - question,’ added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked - at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the - Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, ‘Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all - day about it!’ and he went on in these words: -

-

- ‘Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe it—’ -

-

- ‘I never said I didn’t!’ interrupted Alice. -

-

- ‘You did,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Hold your tongue!’ added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. - The Mock Turtle went on. -

-

- ‘We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—’ -

-

- ‘I’ve been to a day-school, too,’ said Alice; ‘you needn’t be - so proud as all that.’ -

-

- ‘With extras?’ asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously. -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘we learned French and music.’ -

-

- ‘And washing?’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Certainly not!’ said Alice indignantly. -

-

- ‘Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,’ said the Mock Turtle in - a tone of great relief. ‘Now at ours they had at the end of the - bill, “French, music, and washing—extra.”’ -

-

- ‘You couldn’t have wanted it much,’ said Alice; ‘living at the bottom - of the sea.’ -

-

- ‘I couldn’t afford to learn it.’ said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. ‘I - only took the regular course.’ -

-

- ‘What was that?’ inquired Alice. -

-

- ‘Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,’ the Mock Turtle - replied; ‘and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, - Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’ -

-

- ‘I never heard of “Uglification,”’ Alice ventured to say. ‘What is - it?’ -

-

- The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. ‘What! Never heard of - uglifying!’ it exclaimed. ‘You know what to beautify is, I suppose?’ -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice doubtfully: ‘it means—to—make—anything—prettier.’ -

-

- ‘Well, then,’ the Gryphon went on, ‘if you don’t know what to uglify - is, you are a simpleton.’ -

-

- Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so - she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said ‘What else had you to learn?’ -

-

- ‘Well, there was Mystery,’ the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the - subjects on his flappers, ‘—Mystery, ancient and modern, with - Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, - that used to come once a week: he taught us Drawling, - Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.’ -

-

‘What was that like?’ said Alice.

-

- ‘Well, I can’t show it you myself,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘I’m too - stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.’ -

-

- ‘Hadn’t time,’ said the Gryphon: ‘I went to the Classics master, - though. He was an old crab, he was.’ -

-

- ‘I never went to him,’ the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: ‘he taught - Laughing and Grief, they used to say.’ -

-

- ‘So he did, so he did,’ said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and - both creatures hid their faces in their paws. -

-

- ‘And how many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice, in a hurry - to change the subject. -

-

- ‘Ten hours the first day,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘nine the next, and - so on.’ -

-

- ‘What a curious plan!’ exclaimed Alice. -

-

- ‘That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked: - ‘because they lessen from day to day.’ -

-

- This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little - before she made her next remark. ‘Then the eleventh day must have been - a holiday?’ -

-

- ‘Of course it was,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘And how did you manage on the twelfth?’ Alice went on eagerly. -

-

- ‘That’s enough about lessons,’ the Gryphon interrupted in a very - decided tone: ‘tell her something about the games now.’ -

-
-
-

- Chapter X. The Lobster Quadrille -

-

- The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across - his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or - two sobs choked his voice. ‘Same as if he had a bone in his throat,’ - said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in - the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears - running down his cheeks, he went on again:— -

-

- ‘You may not have lived much under the sea—’ (‘I haven’t,’ said - Alice)—‘and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—’ - (Alice began to say ‘I once tasted—’ but checked herself hastily, and - said ‘No, never’) ‘—so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a - Lobster Quadrille is!’ -

-

- ‘No, indeed,’ said Alice. ‘What sort of a dance is it?’ -

-

- ‘Why,’ said the Gryphon, ‘you first form into a line along the - sea-shore—’ -

-

- ‘Two lines!’ cried the Mock Turtle. ‘Seals, turtles, salmon, and so - on; then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—’ -

-

‘That generally takes some time,’ interrupted the Gryphon.

-

- ‘—you advance twice—’ -

-

- ‘Each with a lobster as a partner!’ cried the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Of course,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘advance twice, set to partners—’ -

-

- ‘—change lobsters, and retire in same order,’ continued the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Then, you know,’ the Mock Turtle went on, ‘you throw the—’ -

-

- ‘The lobsters!’ shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. -

-

- ‘—as far out to sea as you can—’ -

-

- ‘Swim after them!’ screamed the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Turn a somersault in the sea!’ cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly - about. -

-

- ‘Change lobsters again!’ yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. -

-

- ‘Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,’ said the Mock - Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had - been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very - sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice. -

-

- ‘It must be a very pretty dance,’ said Alice timidly. -

-

- ‘Would you like to see a little of it?’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Very much indeed,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Come, let’s try the first figure!’ said the Mock Turtle to the - Gryphon. ‘We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?’ -

-

- ‘Oh, you sing,’ said the Gryphon. ‘I’ve forgotten the words.’ -

-

- So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and - then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their - forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very - slowly and sadly:— -

-
- ‘“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail. “There’s - a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. -

- See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are - waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance? -

-

- Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance? -

-

- “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they - take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!” But the - snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance— Said he - thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. -

-

- Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the - dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join - the dance. -

-

- ‘"What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied. “There - is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The further off - from England the nearer is to France— Then turn not pale, beloved - snail, but come and join the dance. -

-

- Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the - dance?”’ -

-
-

- ‘Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,’ said Alice, - feeling very glad that it was over at last: ‘and I do so like that - curious song about the whiting!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, as to the whiting,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘they—you’ve seen them, - of course?’ -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘I’ve often seen them at dinn—’ she checked herself - hastily. -

-

- ‘I don’t know where Dinn may be,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘but if you’ve - seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.’ -

-

- ‘I believe so,’ Alice replied thoughtfully. ‘They have their tails in - their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.’ -

-

- ‘You’re wrong about the crumbs,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘crumbs would - all wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their - mouths; and the reason is—’ here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his - eyes.—‘Tell her about the reason and all that,’ he said to the - Gryphon. -

-

- ‘The reason is,’ said the Gryphon, ‘that they would go with the - lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to - fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they - couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.’ -

-

- ‘Thank you,’ said Alice, ‘it’s very interesting. I never knew so much - about a whiting before.’ -

-

- ‘I can tell you more than that, if you like,’ said the Gryphon. ‘Do - you know why it’s called a whiting?’ -

-

- ‘I never thought about it,’ said Alice. ‘Why?’ -

-

- ‘It does the boots and shoes,’ the Gryphon replied very - solemnly. -

-

- Alice was thoroughly puzzled. ‘Does the boots and shoes!’ she repeated - in a wondering tone. -

-

- ‘Why, what are your shoes done with?’ said the Gryphon. ‘I - mean, what makes them so shiny?’ -

-

- Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her - answer. ‘They’re done with blacking, I believe.’ -

-

- ‘Boots and shoes under the sea,’ the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, - ‘are done with a whiting. Now you know.’ -

-

- ‘And what are they made of?’ Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. -

-

- ‘Soles and eels, of course,’ the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: - ‘any shrimp could have told you that.’ -

-

- ‘If I’d been the whiting,’ said Alice, whose thoughts were still - running on the song, ‘I’d have said to the porpoise, “Keep back, - please: we don’t want you with us!”’ -

-

- ‘They were obliged to have him with them,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘no - wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.’ -

-

- ‘Wouldn’t it really?’ said Alice in a tone of great surprise. -

-

- ‘Of course not,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘why, if a fish came to - me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say “With what - porpoise?”’ -

-

- ‘Don’t you mean “purpose”?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘I mean what I say,’ the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And - the Gryphon added ‘Come, let’s hear some of your adventures.’ -

-

- ‘I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,’ said - Alice a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, - because I was a different person then.’ -

-

- ‘Explain all that,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘No, no! The adventures first,’ said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: - ‘explanations take such a dreadful time.’ -

-

- So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she - first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at - first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and - opened their eyes and mouths so very wide, but she gained - courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she - got to the part about her repeating ‘You are old, Father William,’ to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then - the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said ‘That’s very curious.’ -

-

- ‘It’s all about as curious as it can be,’ said the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘It all came different!’ the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. ‘I - should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to - begin.’ He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of - authority over Alice. -

-

- ‘Stand up and repeat “’Tis the voice of the sluggard,”’ said - the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!’ - thought Alice; ‘I might as well be at school at once.’ However, she - got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the - Lobster Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the - words came very queer indeed:— -

-
- ‘’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, “You have baked - me too brown, I must sugar my hair.” As a duck with its eyelids, so he - with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.’ - 
   [later editions continued as follows
-

- When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in - contemptuous tones of the Shark, But, when the tide rises and sharks - are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.] -

-
-

- ‘That’s different from what I used to say when I was a child,’ - said the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Well, I never heard it before,’ said the Mock Turtle; ‘but it sounds - uncommon nonsense.’ -

-

- Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, - wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again. -

-

- ‘I should like to have it explained,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘She can’t explain it,’ said the Gryphon hastily. ‘Go on with the next - verse.’ -

-

- ‘But about his toes?’ the Mock Turtle persisted. ‘How could he - turn them out with his nose, you know?’ -

-

- ‘It’s the first position in dancing.’ Alice said; but was dreadfully - puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. -

-

- ‘Go on with the next verse,’ the Gryphon repeated impatiently: ‘it - begins “I passed by his garden.”’ -

-

- Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come - wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:— -

-
- ‘I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, How the Owl and the - Panther were sharing a pie—’ - 
[later editions continued as follows
-

- The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Owl had - the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, - the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While - the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the - banquet—] -

-
-

- ‘What is the use of repeating all that stuff,’ the Mock Turtle - interrupted, ‘if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the - most confusing thing I ever heard!’ -

-

- ‘Yes, I think you’d better leave off,’ said the Gryphon: and Alice was - only too glad to do so. -

-

- ‘Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?’ the Gryphon - went on. ‘Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?’ -

-

- ‘Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,’ Alice - replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, - ‘Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her “Turtle Soup,” will - you, old fellow?’ -

-

- The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked - with sobs, to sing this:— -

-
-

- ‘Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen! Who for - such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! - Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! - Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, Beautiful, - beautiful Soup! -

-

- ’Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, Game, or any other dish? Who - would not give all else for two Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? - Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! - Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, Beautiful, - beauti—FUL SOUP!’ -

-
-

- ‘Chorus again!’ cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun - to repeat it, when a cry of ‘The trial’s beginning!’ was heard in the - distance. -

-

- ‘Come on!’ cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it - hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song. -

-

- ‘What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only - answered ‘Come on!’ and ran the faster, while more and more faintly - came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:— -

-
- ‘Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup!’ -
-
-
-

- Chapter XI. Who Stole the Tarts? -

-

- The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they - arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little - birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was - standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard - him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one - hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of - the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked - so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them—‘I wish - they’d get the trial done,’ she thought, ‘and hand round the - refreshments!’ But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began - looking at everything about her, to pass away the time. -

-

- Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read - about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew - the name of nearly everything there. ‘That’s the judge,’ she said to - herself, ‘because of his great wig.’ -

-

- The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the - wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he - did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. -

-

- ‘And that’s the jury-box,’ thought Alice, ‘and those twelve - creatures,’ (she was obliged to say ‘creatures,’ you see, because some - of them were animals, and some were birds,) ‘I suppose they are the - jurors.’ She said this last word two or three times over to herself, - being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very - few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. However, - ‘jury-men’ would have done just as well. -

-

- The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. ‘What are - they doing?’ Alice whispered to the Gryphon. ‘They can’t have anything - to put down yet, before the trial’s begun.’ -

-

- ‘They’re putting down their names,’ the Gryphon whispered in reply, - ‘for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.’ -

-

- ‘Stupid things!’ Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she - stopped hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, ‘Silence in the - court!’ and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, - to make out who was talking. -

-

- Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, - that all the jurors were writing down ‘stupid things!’ on their - slates, and she could even make out that one of them didn’t know how - to spell ‘stupid,’ and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. - ‘A nice muddle their slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!’ thought - Alice. -

-

- One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice - could - not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and - very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so - quickly that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not - make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for - it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; - and this was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate. -

-

- ‘Herald, read the accusation!’ said the King. -

-

- On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then - unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:— -

-
- ‘The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, All on a summer day: The - Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, And took them quite away!’ -
-

- ‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury. -

-

- ‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rabbit hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great - deal to come before that!’ -

-

- ‘Call the first witness,’ said the King; and the White Rabbit blew - three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, ‘First witness!’ -

-

- The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand - and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. ‘I beg pardon, your - Majesty,’ he began, ‘for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite - finished my tea when I was sent for.’ -

-

- ‘You ought to have finished,’ said the King. ‘When did you begin?’ -

-

- The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the - court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. ‘Fourteenth of March, I - think it was,’ he said. -

-

- ‘Fifteenth,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Sixteenth,’ added the Dormouse. -

-

- ‘Write that down,’ the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly - wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, - and reduced the answer to shillings and pence. -

-

- ‘Take off your hat,’ the King said to the Hatter. -

-

- ‘It isn’t mine,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘Stolen!’ the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who - instantly made a memorandum of the fact. -

-

- ‘I keep them to sell,’ the Hatter added as an explanation; ‘I’ve none - of my own. I’m a hatter.’ -

-

- Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, - who turned pale and fidgeted. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ said the King; ‘and don’t be nervous, or I’ll - have you executed on the spot.’ -

-

- This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting - from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his - confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the - bread-and-butter. -

-

- Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled - her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to - grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave - the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was - as long as there was room for her. -

-

- ‘I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.’ said the Dormouse, who was sitting - next to her. ‘I can hardly breathe.’ -

-

- ‘I can’t help it,’ said Alice very meekly: ‘I’m growing.’ -

-

‘You’ve no right to grow here,’ said the Dormouse.

-

- ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said Alice more boldly: ‘you know you’re - growing too.’ -

-

- ‘Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,’ said the Dormouse: ‘not - in that ridiculous fashion.’ And he got up very sulkily and crossed - over to the other side of the court. -

-

- All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, - just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the - officers of the court, ‘Bring me the list of the singers in the last - concert!’ on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both - his shoes off. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ the King repeated angrily, ‘or I’ll have you - executed, whether you’re nervous or not.’ -

-

- ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ the Hatter began, in a trembling - voice, ‘—and I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what - with the bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the - tea—’ -

-

‘The twinkling of the what?’ said the King.

-

‘It began with the tea,’ the Hatter replied.

-

- ‘Of course twinkling begins with a T!’ said the King sharply. ‘Do you - take me for a dunce? Go on!’ -

-

- ‘I’m a poor man,’ the Hatter went on, ‘and most things twinkled after - that—only the March Hare said—’ -

-

- ‘I didn’t!’ the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry. -

-

- ‘You did!’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘I deny it!’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘He denies it,’ said the King: ‘leave out that part.’ -

-

- ‘Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—’ the Hatter went on, looking - anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse - denied nothing, being fast asleep. -

-

- ‘After that,’ continued the Hatter, ‘I cut some more - bread-and-butter—’ -

-

- ‘But what did the Dormouse say?’ one of the jury asked. -

-

- ‘That I can’t remember,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘You must remember,’ remarked the King, ‘or I’ll have you - executed.’ -

-

- The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went - down on one knee. ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ he began. -

-

‘You’re a very poor speaker,’ said the King.

-

- Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by - the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just - explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which - tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the - guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it.) -

-

- ‘I’m glad I’ve seen that done,’ thought Alice. ‘I’ve so often read in - the newspapers, at the end of trials, “There was some attempts at - applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the - court,” and I never understood what it meant till now.’ -

-

- ‘If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,’ continued the - King. -

-

- ‘I can’t go no lower,’ said the Hatter: ‘I’m on the floor, as it is.’ -

-

‘Then you may sit down,’ the King replied.

-

- Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. -

-

- ‘Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!’ thought Alice. ‘Now we shall - get on better.’ -

-

- ‘I’d rather finish my tea,’ said the Hatter, with an anxious look at - the Queen, who was reading the list of singers. -

-

- ‘You may go,’ said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, - without even waiting to put his shoes on. -

-

- ‘—and just take his head off outside,’ the Queen added to one of the - officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get - to the door. -

-

- ‘Call the next witness!’ said the King. -

-

- The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in - her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the - court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Shan’t,’ said the cook. -

-

- The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low - voice, ‘Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.’ -

-

- ‘Well, if I must, I must,’ the King said, with a melancholy air, and, - after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were - nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, ‘What are tarts made - of?’ -

-

- ‘Pepper, mostly,’ said the cook. -

-

- ‘Treacle,’ said a sleepy voice behind her. -

-

- ‘Collar that Dormouse,’ the Queen shrieked out. ‘Behead that Dormouse! - Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his - whiskers!’ -

-

- For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the - Dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the - cook had disappeared. -

-

- ‘Never mind!’ said the King, with an air of great relief. ‘Call the - next witness.’ And he added in an undertone to the Queen, ‘Really, my - dear, you - must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!’ -

-

- Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling - very curious to see what the next witness would be like, ‘—for they - haven’t got much evidence yet,’ she said to herself. Imagine - her surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill - little voice, the name ‘Alice!’ -

-
-
-

- Chapter XII. Alice’s Evidence -

-

- ‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how - large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such - a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, - upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and - there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of - goldfish she had accidentally upset the week before. -

-

- ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ she exclaimed in a tone of great - dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for - the accident of the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a - vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back - into the jury-box, or they would die. -

-

- ‘The trial cannot proceed,’ said the King in a very grave voice, - ‘until all the jurymen are back in their proper places—all,’ he - repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. -

-

- Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put - the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its - tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon - got it out again, and put it right; ‘not that it signifies much,’ she - said to herself; ‘I should think it would be quite as much use - in the trial one way up as the other.’ -

-

- As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being - upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to - them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the - accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do - anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the - court. -

-

- ‘What do you know about this business?’ the King said to Alice. -

-

- ‘Nothing,’ said Alice. -

-

‘Nothing whatever?’ persisted the King.

-

- ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘That’s very important,’ the King said, turning to the jury. They were - just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White - Rabbit interrupted: ‘Unimportant, your Majesty means, of - course,’ he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making - faces at him as he spoke. -

-

- ‘Unimportant, of course, I meant,’ the King hastily said, and - went on to himself in an undertone, -

-

- ‘important—unimportant—unimportant—important—’ as if he were trying - which word sounded best. -

-

- Some of the jury wrote it down ‘important,’ and some ‘unimportant.’ - Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their - slates; ‘but it doesn’t matter a bit,’ she thought to herself. -

-

- At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in - his note-book, cackled out ‘Silence!’ and read out from his book, - ‘Rule Forty-two. - All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.’ -

-

- Everybody looked at Alice. -

-

‘I’m not a mile high,’ said Alice.

-

- ‘You are,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Nearly two miles high,’ added the Queen. -

-

- ‘Well, I shan’t go, at any rate,’ said Alice: ‘besides, that’s not a - regular rule: you invented it just now.’ -

-

- ‘It’s the oldest rule in the book,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Then it ought to be Number One,’ said Alice. -

-

- The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. ‘Consider your - verdict,’ he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. -

-

- ‘There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,’ said the - White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; ‘this paper has just been - picked up.’ -

-

- ‘What’s in it?’ said the Queen. -

-

- ‘I haven’t opened it yet,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘but it seems to be - a letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.’ -

-

- ‘It must have been that,’ said the King, ‘unless it was written to - nobody, which isn’t usual, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Who is it directed to?’ said one of the jurymen. -

-

- ‘It isn’t directed at all,’ said the White Rabbit; ‘in fact, there’s - nothing written on the outside.’ He unfolded the paper as he - spoke, and added ‘It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of verses.’ -

-

- ‘Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?’ asked another of the - jurymen. -

-

- ‘No, they’re not,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘and that’s the queerest - thing about it.’ (The jury all looked puzzled.) -

-

- ‘He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,’ said the King. (The jury - all brightened up again.) -

-

- ‘Please your Majesty,’ said the Knave, ‘I didn’t write it, and they - can’t prove I did: there’s no name signed at the end.’ -

-

- ‘If you didn’t sign it,’ said the King, ‘that only makes the matter - worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you’d have - signed your name like an honest man.’ -

-

- There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really - clever thing the King had said that day. -

-

‘That proves his guilt,’ said the Queen.

-

- ‘It proves nothing of the sort!’ said Alice. ‘Why, you don’t even know - what they’re about!’ -

-

- ‘Read them,’ said the King. -

-

- The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please - your Majesty?’ he asked. -

-

- ‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you - come to the end: then stop.’ -

-

- These were the verses the White Rabbit read:— -

-
-

- ‘They told me you had been to her, And mentioned me to him: She gave - me a good character, But said I could not swim. -

-

- He sent them word I had not gone (We know it to be true): If she - should push the matter on, What would become of you? -

-

- I gave her one, they gave him two, You gave us three or more; They - all returned from him to you, Though they were mine before. -

-

- If I or she should chance to be Involved in this affair, He trusts - to you to set them free, Exactly as we were. -

-

- My notion was that you had been (Before she had this fit) An - obstacle that came between Him, and ourselves, and it. -

-

- Don’t let him know she liked them best, For this must ever be A - secret, kept from all the rest, Between yourself and me.’ -

-
-

- ‘That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,’ said - the King, rubbing his hands; ‘so now let the jury—’ -

-

- ‘If any one of them can explain it,’ said Alice, (she had grown so - large in the last few minutes that she wasn’t a bit afraid of - interrupting him,) ‘I’ll give him sixpence. I don’t believe - there’s an atom of meaning in it.’ -

-

- The jury all wrote down on their slates, ‘She doesn’t believe - there’s an atom of meaning in it,’ but none of them attempted to - explain the paper. -

-

- ‘If there’s no meaning in it,’ said the King, ‘that saves a world of - trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t - know,’ he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking - at them with one eye; ‘I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. - “—said I could not swim—” you can’t swim, can you?’ he added, - turning to the Knave. -

-

- The Knave shook his head sadly. ‘Do I look like it?’ he said. (Which - he certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.) -

-

- ‘All right, so far,’ said the King, and he went on muttering over the - verses to himself: ‘“We know it to be true—” that’s the jury, - of course—“I gave her one, they gave him two—” why, that must - be what he did with the tarts, you know—’ -

-

- ‘But, it goes on “they all returned from him to you,”’ said - Alice. -

-

- ‘Why, there they are!’ said the King triumphantly, pointing to the - tarts on the table. ‘Nothing can be clearer than that. Then - again—“before she had this fit—” you never had fits, my dear, I - think?’ he said to the Queen. -

-

- ‘Never!’ said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard - as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his - slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily - began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long - as it lasted.) -

-

- ‘Then the words don’t fit you,’ said the King, looking round - the court with a smile. There was a dead silence. -

-

- ‘It’s a pun!’ the King added in an offended tone, and everybody - laughed, ‘Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for - about the twentieth time that day. -

-

- ‘No, no!’ said the Queen. ‘Sentence first—verdict afterwards.’ -

-

- ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Alice loudly. ‘The idea of having the - sentence first!’ -

-

- ‘Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple. -

-

- ‘I won’t!’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody - moved. -

-

- ‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by - this time.) ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’ -

-

- At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon - her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and - tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her - head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead - leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. -

-

- ‘Wake up, Alice dear!’ said her sister; ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve - had!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her - sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange - Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she - had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, ‘It was a - curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s - getting late.’ So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as - well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been. -

-

- But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her - hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all - her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, - and this was her dream:— -

-

- First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny - hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were - looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and - see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair - that would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, - or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the - strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. -

-

- The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the - frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she - could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends - shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen - ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the - pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes - crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking - of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed - guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the - miserable Mock Turtle. -

-

- So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in - Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all - would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the - wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling - teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill - cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the - shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change - (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the - lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock - Turtle’s heavy sobs. -

-

- Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers - would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would - keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her - childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, - and make their - eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the - dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their - simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, - remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days. -

-
-
- - - diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.md deleted file mode 100644 index 24b37fc..0000000 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Alice.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4408 +0,0 @@ -
-

Alice’s Adventures
In Wonderland

-
By Lewis Carroll
-
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 3.0
-
- -
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -Produced by Arthur DiBianca and David Widger -
-
- - -
-
-

-Chapter I. Down the Rabbit-Hole

-

- Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the - bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the - book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in - it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or - conversations?’ -

-

- So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot - day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making - a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the - daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. -

-

- There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so - very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh - dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred - to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all - seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of - its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started - to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen - a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and - burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately - was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. -

-

- In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in - the world she was to get out again. -

-

- The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then - dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think - about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep - well. -

-

- Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty - of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to - happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was - coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the - sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and - book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She - took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled - ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did - not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put - it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. -

-

- ‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall - think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at - home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of - the house!’ (Which was very likely true.) -

-

- Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! ‘I wonder how many - miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I must be getting - somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four - thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice had learnt - several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though - this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as - there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it - over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right distance—but then I wonder - what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ (Alice had no idea what Latitude - was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) -

-

- Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right through the - earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with - their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ (she was rather - glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all the - right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the - country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?’ - (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy curtseying as you’re - falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) ‘And what an - ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to - ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.’ -

-

- Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began - talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ - (Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at - tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no - mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very - like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here Alice - began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy - sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and sometimes, ‘Do bats - eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer either question, it didn’t - much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and - had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and - saying to her very earnestly, ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever - eat a bat?’ when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of - sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. -

-

- Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: - she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long - passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There - was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just - in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, - how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind it when she turned the - corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a - long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. -

-

- There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when - Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every - door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get - out again. -

-

- Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid - glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s first - thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, - alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at - any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, - she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was - a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key - in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! -

-

- Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much - larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into - the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark - hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool - fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; ‘and - even if my head would go through,’ thought poor Alice, ‘it would be of - very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like - a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.’ For, you see, - so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to - think that very few things indeed were really impossible. -

-

- There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back - to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate - a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she - found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here before,’ said - Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words - ‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large letters. -

-

- It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not - going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she said, ‘and see - whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she had read several nice little - histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts - and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the - simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker - will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger - very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten - that, if you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost - certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. -

-

- However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured to taste - it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of - cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered - toast,) she very soon finished it off. -

-
* * * * * * * -* * * * * * -* * * * * * * -
-

- ‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a - telescope.’ -

-

- And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face - brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going - through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she - waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: - she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said - Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder - what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy what the flame of a - candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember - ever having seen such a thing. -

-

- After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going - into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the - door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went - back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she - could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to - climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when - she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and - cried. -

-

- ‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, rather - sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally gave - herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and - sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; - and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated - herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this - curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. ‘But it’s no - use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s - hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!’ -

-

- Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: - she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT - ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, - ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me - grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the - garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ -

-

- She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which - way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was - growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same - size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had - got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to - happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the - common way. -

-

- So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. -

-
* * * * * * * -* * * * * * -* * * * * * * -
-
-
-

-Chapter II. The Pool of Tears

-

- ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that - for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now I’m - opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!’ - (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of - sight, they were getting so far off). ‘Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder - who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m sure I - shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself - about you: you must manage the best way you can;—but I must be kind - to them,’ thought Alice, ‘or perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to go! - Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.’ -

-

- And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. ‘They must go - by the carrier,’ she thought; ‘and how funny it’ll seem, sending presents - to one’s own feet! And how odd the directions will look!’ -

-
- Alice’s Right Foot, Esq. - Hearthrug, - near The Fender, - (with Alice’s love). -
-

- Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!’ -

-

- Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was - now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden - key and hurried off to the garden door. -

-

- Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to - look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more - hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. -

-

- ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like - you,’ (she might well say this), ‘to go on crying in this way! Stop this - moment, I tell you!’ But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of - tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep - and reaching half down the hall. -

-

- After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she - hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit - returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand - and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, - muttering to himself as he came, ‘Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won’t - she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!’ Alice felt so desperate that she - was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she - began, in a low, timid voice, ‘If you please, sir—’ The Rabbit - started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried - away into the darkness as hard as he could go. -

-

- Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she kept - fanning herself all the time she went on talking: ‘Dear, dear! How queer - everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder - if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got - up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. - But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, - that’s the great puzzle!’ And she began thinking over all the children she - knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she could have been - changed for any of them. -

-

- ‘I’m sure I’m not Ada,’ she said, ‘for her hair goes in such long - ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t be - Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very - little! Besides, she’s she, and I’m I, and—oh dear, how puzzling it - all is! I’ll try if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: four - times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven - is—oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate! However, the - Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s try Geography. London is the - capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome—no, - that’s all wrong, I’m certain! I must have been changed for Mabel! I’ll - try and say “How doth the little—”’ and she crossed her hands on her - lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice - sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the same as they - used to do:— -

-
- ‘How doth the little crocodile - Improve his shining tail, - And pour the waters of the Nile - On every golden scale! - - ’How cheerfully he seems to grin, - How neatly spread his claws, - And welcome little fishes in - With gently smiling jaws!’ -
-

- ‘I’m sure those are not the right words,’ said poor Alice, and her eyes - filled with tears again as she went on, ‘I must be Mabel after all, and I - shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no - toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I’ve made up - my mind about it; if I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down here! It’ll be no use their - putting their heads down and saying “Come up again, dear!” I shall only - look up and say “Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like - being that person, I’ll come up: if not, I’ll stay down here till I’m - somebody else”—but, oh dear!’ cried Alice, with a sudden burst of - tears, ‘I do wish they would put their heads down! I am so very tired of - being all alone here!’ -

-

- As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see - that she had put on one of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves while she - was talking. ‘How can I have done that?’ she thought. ‘I must be growing - small again.’ She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, - and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet - high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out that the - cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped it hastily, - just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. -

-

- ‘That was a narrow escape!’ said Alice, a good deal frightened at the - sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; ‘and now - for the garden!’ and she ran with all speed back to the little door: but, - alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying - on the glass table as before, ‘and things are worse than ever,’ thought - the poor child, ‘for I never was so small as this before, never! And I - declare it’s too bad, that it is!’ -

-

- As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! - she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had - somehow fallen into the sea, ‘and in that case I can go back by railway,’ - she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and - had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on the English - coast you find a number of bathing machines in the sea, some children - digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of lodging houses, and - behind them a railway station.) However, she soon made out that she was in - the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. -

-

- ‘I wish I hadn’t cried so much!’ said Alice, as she swam about, trying to - find her way out. ‘I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being - drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, - everything is queer to-day.’ -

-

- Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way - off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it - must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she - was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped - in like herself. -

-

- ‘Would it be of any use, now,’ thought Alice, ‘to speak to this mouse? - Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely - it can talk: at any rate, there’s no harm in trying.’ So she began: ‘O - Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming - about here, O Mouse!’ (Alice thought this must be the right way of - speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but she - remembered having seen in her brother’s Latin Grammar, ‘A mouse—of a - mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!’) The Mouse looked at - her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little - eyes, but it said nothing. -

-

- ‘Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,’ thought Alice; ‘I daresay it’s a - French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.’ (For, with all her - knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything - had happened.) So she began again: ‘Ou est ma chatte?’ which was the first - sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of - the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. ‘Oh, I beg your - pardon!’ cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal’s - feelings. ‘I quite forgot you didn’t like cats.’ -

-

- ‘Not like cats!’ cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. ‘Would - you like cats if you were me?’ -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps not,’ said Alice in a soothing tone: ‘don’t be angry about - it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d take a - fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet thing,’ - Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, ‘and - she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her - face—and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse—and she’s such - a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your pardon!’ cried Alice - again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt - certain it must be really offended. ‘We won’t talk about her any more if - you’d rather not.’ -

-

- ‘We indeed!’ cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his - tail. ‘As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always hated cats: - nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name again!’ -

-

- ‘I won’t indeed!’ said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of - conversation. ‘Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?’ The - Mouse did not answer, so Alice went on eagerly: ‘There is such a nice - little dog near our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed - terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll fetch - things when you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its dinner, and - all sorts of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it - belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth a - hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats and—oh dear!’ cried - Alice in a sorrowful tone, ‘I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!’ For the - Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite - a commotion in the pool as it went. -

-

- So she called softly after it, ‘Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we - won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!’ When the - Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face - was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low - trembling voice, ‘Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my - history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.’ -

-

- It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the - birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, a - Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the - way, and the whole party swam to the shore. -

-
-
-

-Chapter III. A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

-

- They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the - birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to - them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. -

-

- The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a - consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural - to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known - them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the Lory, - who at last turned sulky, and would only say, ‘I am older than you, and - must know better’; and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old - it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no - more to be said. -

-

- At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, - called out, ‘Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I’ll soon make you - dry enough!’ They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in - the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure - she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. -

-

- ‘Ahem!’ said the Mouse with an important air, ‘are you all ready? This is - the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! “William the - Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by - the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to - usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and - Northumbria—”’ -

-

- ‘Ugh!’ said the Lory, with a shiver. -

-

- ‘I beg your pardon!’ said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: ‘Did you - speak?’ -

-

- ‘Not I!’ said the Lory hastily. -

-

- ‘I thought you did,’ said the Mouse. ‘—I proceed. “Edwin and Morcar, - the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, - the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—”’ -

-

- ‘Found what?’ said the Duck. -

-

- ‘Found it,’ the Mouse replied rather crossly: ‘of course you know what - “it” means.’ -

-

- ‘I know what “it” means well enough, when I find a thing,’ said the Duck: - ‘it’s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop - find?’ -

-

- The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, ‘“—found - it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the - crown. William’s conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his - Normans—” How are you getting on now, my dear?’ it continued, - turning to Alice as it spoke. -

-

- ‘As wet as ever,’ said Alice in a melancholy tone: ‘it doesn’t seem to dry - me at all.’ -

-

- ‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move that - the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies—’ -

-

- ‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half those - long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ And the - Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds - tittered audibly. -

-

- ‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that - the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’ -

-

- ‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but - the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no - one else seemed inclined to say anything. -

-

- ‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as - you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you - how the Dodo managed it.) -

-

- First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape - doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the - course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they - began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it - was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been - running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly - called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round it, panting, and - asking, ‘But who has won?’ -

-

- This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, - and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the - position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), - while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘Everybody has - won, and all must have prizes.’ -

-

- ‘But who is to give the prizes?’ quite a chorus of voices asked. -

-

- ‘Why, she, of course,’ said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; - and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused - way, ‘Prizes! Prizes!’ -

-

- Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her - pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not - got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one - a-piece all round. -

-

- ‘But she must have a prize herself, you know,’ said the Mouse. -

-

- ‘Of course,’ the Dodo replied very gravely. ‘What else have you got in - your pocket?’ he went on, turning to Alice. -

-

- ‘Only a thimble,’ said Alice sadly. -

-

- ‘Hand it over here,’ said the Dodo. -

-

- Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly - presented the thimble, saying ‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant - thimble’; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. -

-

- Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave - that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to - say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she - could. -

-

- The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and - confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, - and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it - was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse - to tell them something more. -

-

- ‘You promised to tell me your history, you know,’ said Alice, ‘and why it - is you hate—C and D,’ she added in a whisper, half afraid that it - would be offended again. -

-

- ‘Mine is a long and a sad tale!’ said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and - sighing. -

-

- ‘It is a long tail, certainly,’ said Alice, looking down with wonder at - the Mouse’s tail; ‘but why do you call it sad?’ And she kept on puzzling - about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was - something like this:— -

-
- ‘Fury said to a - mouse, That he - met in the - house, - “Let us - both go to - law: I will - prosecute - you.—Come, - I’ll take no - denial; We - must have a - trial: For - really this - morning I’ve - nothing - to do.” - Said the - mouse to the - cur, “Such - a trial, - dear Sir, - With - no jury - or judge, - would be - wasting - our - breath.” - “I’ll be - judge, I’ll - be jury,” - Said - cunning - old Fury: - “I’ll - try the - whole - cause, - and - condemn - you - to - death.”’ -
-

- ‘You are not attending!’ said the Mouse to Alice severely. ‘What are you - thinking of?’ -

-

- ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Alice very humbly: ‘you had got to the fifth - bend, I think?’ -

-

- ‘I had not!’ cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily. -

-

- ‘A knot!’ said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking - anxiously about her. ‘Oh, do let me help to undo it!’ -

-

- ‘I shall do nothing of the sort,’ said the Mouse, getting up and walking - away. ‘You insult me by talking such nonsense!’ -

-

- ‘I didn’t mean it!’ pleaded poor Alice. ‘But you’re so easily offended, - you know!’ -

-

- The Mouse only growled in reply. -

-

- ‘Please come back and finish your story!’ Alice called after it; and the - others all joined in chorus, ‘Yes, please do!’ but the Mouse only shook - its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. -

-

- ‘What a pity it wouldn’t stay!’ sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite - out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her - daughter ‘Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose your - temper!’ ’Hold your tongue, Ma!’ said the young Crab, a little snappishly. - ‘You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!’ -

-

- ‘I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!’ said Alice aloud, addressing - nobody in particular. ‘She’d soon fetch it back!’ -

-

- ‘And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?’ said the Lory. -

-

- Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: - ‘Dinah’s our cat. And she’s such a capital one for catching mice you can’t - think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, she’ll eat a - little bird as soon as look at it!’ -

-

- This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the - birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very - carefully, remarking, ‘I really must be getting home; the night-air - doesn’t suit my throat!’ and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to - its children, ‘Come away, my dears! It’s high time you were all in bed!’ - On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone. -

-

- ‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!’ she said to herself in a melancholy - tone. ‘Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I’m sure she’s the best - cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you any - more!’ And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely - and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little - pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half - hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish - his story. -

-
-
-

-Chapter IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

-

- It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously - about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering - to itself ‘The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and - whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where - can I have dropped them, I wonder?’ Alice guessed in a moment that it was - looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very - good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be - seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, - and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished - completely. -

-

- Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and called - out to her in an angry tone, ‘Why, Mary Ann, what are you doing out here? - Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, - now!’ And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the - direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had - made. -

-

- ‘He took me for his housemaid,’ she said to herself as she ran. ‘How - surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him his - fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.’ As she said this, she - came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass - plate with the name ‘W. RABBIT’ engraved upon it. She went in without - knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the - real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan - and gloves. -

-

- ‘How queer it seems,’ Alice said to herself, ‘to be going messages for a - rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on messages next!’ And she began - fancying the sort of thing that would happen: ‘“Miss Alice! Come here - directly, and get ready for your walk!” “Coming in a minute, nurse! But - I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.” Only I don’t think,’ - Alice went on, ‘that they’d let Dinah stop in the house if it began - ordering people about like that!’ -

-

- By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in - the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of - tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and - was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle - that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the - words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. - ‘I know something interesting is sure to happen,’ she said to herself, - ‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see what this bottle does. - I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really I’m quite tired of - being such a tiny little thing!’ -

-

- It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had - drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, - and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down - the bottle, saying to herself ‘That’s quite enough—I hope I shan’t - grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do wish - I hadn’t drunk quite so much!’ -

-

- Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and - very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not - even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow - against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went - on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, - and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself ‘Now I can do no more, - whatever happens. What will become of me?’ -

-

- Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, - and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there - seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, - no wonder she felt unhappy. -

-

- ‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t - always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and - rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and - yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder - what can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied - that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! - There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I - grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,’ she added in a - sorrowful tone; ‘at least there’s no room to grow up any more here.’ -

-

- ‘But then,’ thought Alice, ‘shall I never get any older than I am now? - That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but - then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like that!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, you foolish Alice!’ she answered herself. ‘How can you learn lessons - in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no room at all for any - lesson-books!’ -

-

- And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making - quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a - voice outside, and stopped to listen. -

-

- ‘Mary Ann! Mary Ann!’ said the voice. ‘Fetch me my gloves this moment!’ - Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the - Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, - quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the - Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. -

-

- Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as - the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard against it, - that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself ‘Then I’ll go - round and get in at the window.’ -

-

- ‘That you won’t’ thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she - heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, - and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she - heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which - she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a - cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. -

-

- Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—‘Pat! Pat! Where are - you?’ And then a voice she had never heard before, ‘Sure then I’m here! - Digging for apples, yer honour!’ -

-

- ‘Digging for apples, indeed!’ said the Rabbit angrily. ‘Here! Come and - help me out of this!’ (Sounds of more broken glass.) -

-

- ‘Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?’ -

-

- ‘Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!’ (He pronounced it ‘arrum.’) -

-

- ‘An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole - window!’ -

-

- ‘Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.’ -

-

- ‘Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!’ -

-

- There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers - now and then; such as, ‘Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at all, at - all!’ ’Do as I tell you, you coward!’ and at last she spread out her hand - again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were two little - shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. ‘What a number of - cucumber-frames there must be!’ thought Alice. ‘I wonder what they’ll do - next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they could! I’m - sure I don’t want to stay in here any longer!’ -

-

- She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a - rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all - talking together: she made out the words: ‘Where’s the other ladder?—Why, - I hadn’t to bring but one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! fetch it here, - lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No, tie ’em together - first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do - well enough; don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will - the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! - Heads below!’ (a loud crash)—‘Now, who did that?—It was Bill, - I fancy—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, I shan’t! You do - it!—That I won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill! - the master says you’re to go down the chimney!’ -

-

- ‘Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?’ said Alice to - herself. ‘Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in - Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but I - think I can kick a little!’ -

-

- She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till - she heard a little animal (she couldn’t guess of what sort it was) - scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, - saying to herself ‘This is Bill,’ she gave one sharp kick, and waited to - see what would happen next. -

-

- The first thing she heard was a general chorus of ‘There goes Bill!’ then - the Rabbit’s voice along—‘Catch him, you by the hedge!’ then - silence, and then another confusion of voices—‘Hold up his head—Brandy - now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to - you? Tell us all about it!’ -

-

- Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (‘That’s Bill,’ thought - Alice,) ‘Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but - I’m a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes - at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!’ -

-

- ‘So you did, old fellow!’ said the others. -

-

- ‘We must burn the house down!’ said the Rabbit’s voice; and Alice called - out as loud as she could, ‘If you do. I’ll set Dinah at you!’ -

-

- There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, ‘I - wonder what they will do next! If they had any sense, they’d take the roof - off.’ After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and Alice - heard the Rabbit say, ‘A barrowful will do, to begin with.’ -

-

- ‘A barrowful of what?’ thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, for - the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, - and some of them hit her in the face. ‘I’ll put a stop to this,’ she said - to herself, and shouted out, ‘You’d better not do that again!’ which - produced another dead silence. -

-

- Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into - little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her - head. ‘If I eat one of these cakes,’ she thought, ‘it’s sure to make some - change in my size; and as it can’t possibly make me larger, it must make - me smaller, I suppose.’ -

-

- So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she - began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through - the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little - animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in - the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something - out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared; - but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a - thick wood. -

-

- ‘The first thing I’ve got to do,’ said Alice to herself, as she wandered - about in the wood, ‘is to grow to my right size again; and the second - thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the - best plan.’ -

-

- It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply - arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how - to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among the - trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great - hurry. -

-

- An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and - feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. ‘Poor little thing!’ - said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but - she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be - hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of - all her coaxing. -

-

- Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held - it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its - feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made - believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep - herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the other - side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over - heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was very - like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment - to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy - began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way - forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the - while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue - hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. -

-

- This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she set - off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till - the puppy’s bark sounded quite faint in the distance. -

-

- ‘And yet what a dear little puppy it was!’ said Alice, as she leant - against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the - leaves: ‘I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I’d - only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten that I’ve - got to grow up again! Let me see—how is it to be managed? I suppose - I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, - what?’ -

-

- The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at the - flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that looked - like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a - large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and - when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it - occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of - it. -

-

- She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the - mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, that - was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long - hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. -

-
-
-

-Chapter V. Advice from a Caterpillar

-

- The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: - at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed - her in a languid, sleepy voice. -

-

- ‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, - rather shyly, ‘I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least - I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been - changed several times since then.’ -

-

- ‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain - yourself!’ -

-

- ‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because I’m not - myself, you see.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, - ‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many - different sizes in a day is very confusing.’ -

-

- ‘It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you - have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and - then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little - queer, won’t you?’ -

-

- ‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I know - is, it would feel very queer to me.’ -

-

- ‘You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. ‘Who are you?’ -

-

- Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice - felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar’s making such very short - remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, ‘I think, you - ought to tell me who you are, first.’ -

-

- ‘Why?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any - good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant - state of mind, she turned away. -

-

- ‘Come back!’ the Caterpillar called after her. ‘I’ve something important - to say!’ -

-

- This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. -

-

- ‘Keep your temper,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. -

-

- ‘No,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and - perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some - minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, - took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, ‘So you think you’re - changed, do you?’ -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I am, sir,’ said Alice; ‘I can’t remember things as I used—and - I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!’ -

-

- ‘Can’t remember what things?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all came - different!’ Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. -

-

- ‘Repeat, “You are old, Father William,”’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Alice folded her hands, and began:— -

-
- ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said, - ‘And your hair has become very white; - And yet you incessantly stand on your head— - Do you think, at your age, it is right?’ - - ‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son, - ‘I feared it might injure the brain; - But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, - Why, I do it again and again.’ - - ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before, - And have grown most uncommonly fat; - Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door— - Pray, what is the reason of that?’ - - ‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, - ‘I kept all my limbs very supple - By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box— - Allow me to sell you a couple?’ - - ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak - For anything tougher than suet; - Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak— - Pray how did you manage to do it?’ - - ‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law, - And argued each case with my wife; - And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, - Has lasted the rest of my life.’ - - ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose - That your eye was as steady as ever; - Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose— - What made you so awfully clever?’ - - ‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’ - Said his father; ‘don’t give yourself airs! - Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? - Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’ -
-

- ‘That is not said right,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Not quite right, I’m afraid,’ said Alice, timidly; ‘some of the words - have got altered.’ -

-

- ‘It is wrong from beginning to end,’ said the Caterpillar decidedly, and - there was silence for some minutes. -

-

- The Caterpillar was the first to speak. -

-

- ‘What size do you want to be?’ it asked. -

-

- ‘Oh, I’m not particular as to size,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘only one - doesn’t like changing so often, you know.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t know,’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life - before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. -

-

- ‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar. -

-

- ‘Well, I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you wouldn’t mind,’ - said Alice: ‘three inches is such a wretched height to be.’ -

-

- ‘It is a very good height indeed!’ said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing - itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). -

-

- ‘But I’m not used to it!’ pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she - thought of herself, ‘I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily offended!’ -

-

- ‘You’ll get used to it in time,’ said the Caterpillar; and it put the - hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. -

-

- This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a - minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned - once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and - crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, ‘One side will - make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.’ -

-

- ‘One side of what? The other side of what?’ thought Alice to herself. -

-

- ‘Of the mushroom,’ said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it - aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. -

-

- Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying - to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, - she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched - her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge - with each hand. -

-

- ‘And now which is which?’ she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the - right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent blow - underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! -

-

- She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt - that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she - set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so - closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her mouth; - but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the lefthand - bit. -

-
* * * * * * * -* * * * * * -* * * * * * * -
-

- ‘Come, my head’s free at last!’ said Alice in a tone of delight, which - changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders - were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an - immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of - green leaves that lay far below her. -

-

- ‘What can all that green stuff be?’ said Alice. ‘And where have my - shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can’t see you?’ She - was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except - a little shaking among the distant green leaves. -

-

- As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she - tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her - neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had - just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to - dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of - the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her - draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was - beating her violently with its wings. -

-

- ‘Serpent!’ screamed the Pigeon. -

-

- ‘I’m not a serpent!’ said Alice indignantly. ‘Let me alone!’ -

-

- ‘Serpent, I say again!’ repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, - and added with a kind of sob, ‘I’ve tried every way, and nothing seems to - suit them!’ -

-

- ‘I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried - hedges,’ the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; ‘but those - serpents! There’s no pleasing them!’ -

-

- Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in - saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. -

-

- ‘As if it wasn’t trouble enough hatching the eggs,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but - I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I haven’t had a - wink of sleep these three weeks!’ -

-

- ‘I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,’ said Alice, who was beginning to see - its meaning. -

-

- ‘And just as I’d taken the highest tree in the wood,’ continued the - Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, ‘and just as I was thinking I - should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from - the sky! Ugh, Serpent!’ -

-

- ‘But I’m not a serpent, I tell you!’ said Alice. ‘I’m a—I’m a—’ -

-

- ‘Well! What are you?’ said the Pigeon. ‘I can see you’re trying to invent - something!’ -

-

- ‘I—I’m a little girl,’ said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she - remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day. -

-

- ‘A likely story indeed!’ said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest - contempt. ‘I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one - with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s no use - denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never tasted an - egg!’ -

-

- ‘I have tasted eggs, certainly,’ said Alice, who was a very truthful - child; ‘but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t believe it,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but if they do, why then they’re a - kind of serpent, that’s all I can say.’ -

-

- This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a minute - or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, ‘You’re looking - for eggs, I know that well enough; and what does it matter to me whether - you’re a little girl or a serpent?’ -

-

- ‘It matters a good deal to me,’ said Alice hastily; ‘but I’m not looking - for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn’t want yours: I don’t - like them raw.’ -

-

- ‘Well, be off, then!’ said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down - again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she - could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every - now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered - that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to - work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and - growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in - bringing herself down to her usual height. -

-

- It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it - felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and - began talking to herself, as usual. ‘Come, there’s half my plan done now! - How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going to be, - from one minute to another! However, I’ve got back to my right size: the - next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how is that to be - done, I wonder?’ As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, - with a little house in it about four feet high. ‘Whoever lives there,’ - thought Alice, ‘it’ll never do to come upon them this size: why, I should - frighten them out of their wits!’ So she began nibbling at the righthand - bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought - herself down to nine inches high. -

-
-
-

-Chapter VI. Pig and Pepper

-

- For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to - do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood—(she - considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, - judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)—and - rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by another - footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a frog; and both - footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their - heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a - little way out of the wood to listen. -

-

- The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, - nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, - in a solemn tone, ‘For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play - croquet.’ The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only - changing the order of the words a little, ‘From the Queen. An invitation - for the Duchess to play croquet.’ -

-

- Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. -

-

- Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for - fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the Fish-Footman - was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring - stupidly up into the sky. -

-

- Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. -

-

- ‘There’s no sort of use in knocking,’ said the Footman, ‘and that for two - reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are; - secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could - possibly hear you.’ And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise - going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and - then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces. -

-

- ‘Please, then,’ said Alice, ‘how am I to get in?’ -

-

- ‘There might be some sense in your knocking,’ the Footman went on without - attending to her, ‘if we had the door between us. For instance, if you - were inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know.’ He was - looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this Alice - thought decidedly uncivil. ‘But perhaps he can’t help it,’ she said to - herself; ‘his eyes are so very nearly at the top of his head. But at any - rate he might answer questions.—How am I to get in?’ she repeated, - aloud. -

-

- ‘I shall sit here,’ the Footman remarked, ‘till tomorrow—’ -

-

- At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came - skimming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, and - broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. -

-

- ‘—or next day, maybe,’ the Footman continued in the same tone, - exactly as if nothing had happened. -

-

- ‘How am I to get in?’ asked Alice again, in a louder tone. -

-

- ‘Are you to get in at all?’ said the Footman. ‘That’s the first question, - you know.’ -

-

- It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. ‘It’s really - dreadful,’ she muttered to herself, ‘the way all the creatures argue. It’s - enough to drive one crazy!’ -

-

- The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his - remark, with variations. ‘I shall sit here,’ he said, ‘on and off, for - days and days.’ -

-

- ‘But what am I to do?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Anything you like,’ said the Footman, and began whistling. -

-

- ‘Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,’ said Alice desperately: ‘he’s - perfectly idiotic!’ And she opened the door and went in. -

-

- The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one - end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the - middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a - large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. -

-

- ‘There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!’ Alice said to herself, - as well as she could for sneezing. -

-

- There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed - occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately - without a moment’s pause. The only things in the kitchen that did not - sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and - grinning from ear to ear. -

-

- ‘Please would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, for she was not - quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, ‘why your - cat grins like that?’ -

-

- ‘It’s a Cheshire cat,’ said the Duchess, ‘and that’s why. Pig!’ -

-

- She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite jumped; - but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not - to her, so she took courage, and went on again:— -

-

- ‘I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t know - that cats could grin.’ -

-

- ‘They all can,’ said the Duchess; ‘and most of ’em do.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t know of any that do,’ Alice said very politely, feeling quite - pleased to have got into a conversation. -

-

- ‘You don’t know much,’ said the Duchess; ‘and that’s a fact.’ -

-

- Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be - as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she was - trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and - at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess - and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of - saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them even - when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was - quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. -

-

- ‘Oh, please mind what you’re doing!’ cried Alice, jumping up and down in - an agony of terror. ‘Oh, there goes his precious nose’; as an unusually - large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off. -

-

- ‘If everybody minded their own business,’ the Duchess said in a hoarse - growl, ‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’ -

-

- ‘Which would not be an advantage,’ said Alice, who felt very glad to get - an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. ‘Just think of - what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes - twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—’ -

-

- ‘Talking of axes,’ said the Duchess, ‘chop off her head!’ -

-

- Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take - the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to be - listening, so she went on again: ‘Twenty-four hours, I think; or is it - twelve? I—’ -

-

- ‘Oh, don’t bother me,’ said the Duchess; ‘I never could abide figures!’ - And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby - to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every - line: -

-
- ‘Speak roughly to your little boy, - And beat him when he sneezes: - He only does it to annoy, - Because he knows it teases.’ - - CHORUS. - - (In which the cook and the baby joined):— - - ‘Wow! wow! wow!’ -
-

- While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the - baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that - Alice could hardly hear the words:— -

-
- ‘I speak severely to my boy, - I beat him when he sneezes; - For he can thoroughly enjoy - The pepper when he pleases!’ - - CHORUS. - - ‘Wow! wow! wow!’ -
-

- ‘Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!’ the Duchess said to Alice, - flinging the baby at her as she spoke. ‘I must go and get ready to play - croquet with the Queen,’ and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a - frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. -

-

- Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped - little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, ‘just - like a star-fish,’ thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting like - a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and - straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute - or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. -

-

- As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to - twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear - and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out - into the open air. ‘If I don’t take this child away with me,’ thought - Alice, ‘they’re sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn’t it be murder to - leave it behind?’ She said the last words out loud, and the little thing - grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). ‘Don’t grunt,’ - said Alice; ‘that’s not at all a proper way of expressing yourself.’ -

-

- The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to - see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a - very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes - were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did not like the - look of the thing at all. ‘But perhaps it was only sobbing,’ she thought, - and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears. -

-

- No, there were no tears. ‘If you’re going to turn into a pig, my dear,’ - said Alice, seriously, ‘I’ll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now!’ - The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say - which), and they went on for some while in silence. -

-

- Alice was just beginning to think to herself, ‘Now, what am I to do with - this creature when I get it home?’ when it grunted again, so violently, - that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could be - no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt - that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further. -

-

- So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it - trot away quietly into the wood. ‘If it had grown up,’ she said to - herself, ‘it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes rather - a handsome pig, I think.’ And she began thinking over other children she - knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, ‘if - one only knew the right way to change them—’ when she was a little - startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few - yards off. -

-

- The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she - thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt - that it ought to be treated with respect. -

-

- ‘Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know - whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. - ‘Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. ‘Would you - tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’ -

-

- ‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘I don’t much care where—’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘—so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation. -

-

- ‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long - enough.’ -

-

- Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. - ‘What sort of people live about here?’ -

-

- ‘In that direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, ‘lives a - Hatter: and in that direction,’ waving the other paw, ‘lives a March Hare. - Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’ -

-

- ‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked. -

-

- ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: ‘we’re all mad here. I’m mad. - You’re mad.’ -

-

- ‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’ -

-

- Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on ‘And how do - you know that you’re mad?’ -

-

- ‘To begin with,’ said the Cat, ‘a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’ -

-

- ‘I suppose so,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Well, then,’ the Cat went on, ‘you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and - wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my - tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.’ -

-

- ‘I call it purring, not growling,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Call it what you like,’ said the Cat. ‘Do you play croquet with the Queen - to-day?’ -

-

- ‘I should like it very much,’ said Alice, ‘but I haven’t been invited - yet.’ -

-

- ‘You’ll see me there,’ said the Cat, and vanished. -

-

- Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer - things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it - suddenly appeared again. -

-

- ‘By-the-bye, what became of the baby?’ said the Cat. ‘I’d nearly forgotten - to ask.’ -

-

- ‘It turned into a pig,’ Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back in - a natural way. -

-

- ‘I thought it would,’ said the Cat, and vanished again. -

-

- Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not - appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which - the March Hare was said to live. ‘I’ve seen hatters before,’ she said to - herself; ‘the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as - this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad as it was in - March.’ As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again, - sitting on a branch of a tree. -

-

- ‘Did you say pig, or fig?’ said the Cat. -

-

- ‘I said pig,’ replied Alice; ‘and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and - vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.’ -

-

- ‘All right,’ said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, - beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which - remained some time after the rest of it had gone. -

-

- ‘Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ thought Alice; ‘but a grin - without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!’ -

-

- She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the - March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys - were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It was so large - a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more - of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet - high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself - ‘Suppose it should be raving mad after all! I almost wish I’d gone to see - the Hatter instead!’ -

-
-
-

-Chapter VII. A Mad Tea-Party

-

- There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the - March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting - between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, - resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. ‘Very uncomfortable - for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; ‘only, as it’s asleep, I suppose it - doesn’t mind.’ -

-

- The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one - corner of it: ‘No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice - coming. ‘There’s plenty of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and she sat down - in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. -

-

- ‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone. -

-

- Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. ‘I - don’t see any wine,’ she remarked. -

-

- ‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily. -

-

- ‘It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,’ said the - March Hare. -

-

- ‘I didn’t know it was your table,’ said Alice; ‘it’s laid for a great many - more than three.’ -

-

- ‘Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice - for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. -

-

- ‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some - severity; ‘it’s very rude.’ -

-

- The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, - ‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’ -

-

- ‘Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they’ve begun - asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud. -

-

- ‘Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the - March Hare. -

-

- ‘Exactly so,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on. -

-

- ‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s - the same thing, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. ‘You might just as well say - that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’ -

-

- ‘You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, ‘that “I like what I - get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’ -

-

- ‘You might just as well say,’ added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking - in his sleep, ‘that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing as “I sleep - when I breathe”!’ -

-

- ‘It is the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the - conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice - thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which - wasn’t much. -

-

- The Hatter was the first to break the silence. ‘What day of the month is - it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, - and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding - it to his ear. -

-

- Alice considered a little, and then said ‘The fourth.’ -

-

- ‘Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. ‘I told you butter wouldn’t suit the - works!’ he added looking angrily at the March Hare. -

-

- ‘It was the best butter,’ the March Hare meekly replied. -

-

- ‘Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter grumbled: ‘you - shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.’ -

-

- The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it - into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing - better to say than his first remark, ‘It was the best butter, you know.’ -

-

- Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. ‘What a - funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t - tell what o’clock it is!’ -

-

- ‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does your watch tell you what year - it is?’ -

-

- ‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s because it stays - the same year for such a long time together.’ -

-

- ‘Which is just the case with mine,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no sort - of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. ‘I don’t quite - understand you,’ she said, as politely as she could. -

-

- ‘The Dormouse is asleep again,’ said the Hatter, and he poured a little - hot tea upon its nose. -

-

- The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its - eyes, ‘Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.’ -

-

- ‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice - again. -

-

- ‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘what’s the answer?’ -

-

- ‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘Nor I,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- Alice sighed wearily. ‘I think you might do something better with the - time,’ she said, ‘than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.’ -

-

- ‘If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you wouldn’t talk - about wasting it. It’s him.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Of course you don’t!’ the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. - ‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’ -

-

- ‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have to beat time - when I learn music.’ -

-

- ‘Ah! that accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand beating. Now, - if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked - with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, - just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and - round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!’ -

-

- (‘I only wish it was,’ the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) -

-

- ‘That would be grand, certainly,’ said Alice thoughtfully: ‘but then—I - shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Not at first, perhaps,’ said the Hatter: ‘but you could keep it to - half-past one as long as you liked.’ -

-

- ‘Is that the way you manage?’ Alice asked. -

-

- The Hatter shook his head mournfully. ‘Not I!’ he replied. ‘We quarrelled - last March—just before he went mad, you know—’ (pointing with - his tea spoon at the March Hare,) ’—it was at the great concert - given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing -

-
- “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! - How I wonder what you’re at!” -
-

- You know the song, perhaps?’ -

-

- ‘I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, ‘in this way:— -

-
- “Up above the world you fly, - Like a tea-tray in the sky. - Twinkle, twinkle—”’ -
-

- Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep ‘Twinkle, - twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—’ and went on so long that they had to - pinch it to make it stop. -

-

- ‘Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the Hatter, ‘when the - Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s murdering the time! Off with his - head!”’ -

-

- ‘How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice. -

-

- ‘And ever since that,’ the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, ‘he won’t do - a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.’ -

-

- A bright idea came into Alice’s head. ‘Is that the reason so many - tea-things are put out here?’ she asked. -

-

- ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said the Hatter with a sigh: ‘it’s always tea-time, and - we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.’ -

-

- ‘Then you keep moving round, I suppose?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Exactly so,’ said the Hatter: ‘as the things get used up.’ -

-

- ‘But what happens when you come to the beginning again?’ Alice ventured to - ask. -

-

- ‘Suppose we change the subject,’ the March Hare interrupted, yawning. ‘I’m - getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.’ -

-

- ‘I’m afraid I don’t know one,’ said Alice, rather alarmed at the proposal. -

-

- ‘Then the Dormouse shall!’ they both cried. ‘Wake up, Dormouse!’ And they - pinched it on both sides at once. -

-

- The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he said in a - hoarse, feeble voice: ‘I heard every word you fellows were saying.’ -

-

- ‘Tell us a story!’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Yes, please do!’ pleaded Alice. -

-

- ‘And be quick about it,’ added the Hatter, ‘or you’ll be asleep again - before it’s done.’ -

-

- ‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters,’ the Dormouse began in - a great hurry; ‘and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they - lived at the bottom of a well—’ -

-

- ‘What did they live on?’ said Alice, who always took a great interest in - questions of eating and drinking. -

-

- ‘They lived on treacle,’ said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or - two. -

-

- ‘They couldn’t have done that, you know,’ Alice gently remarked; ‘they’d - have been ill.’ -

-

- ‘So they were,’ said the Dormouse; ‘very ill.’ -

-

- Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of living - would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: ‘But why did - they live at the bottom of a well?’ -

-

- ‘Take some more tea,’ the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. -

-

- ‘I’ve had nothing yet,’ Alice replied in an offended tone, ‘so I can’t - take more.’ -

-

- ‘You mean you can’t take less,’ said the Hatter: ‘it’s very easy to take - more than nothing.’ -

-

- ‘Nobody asked your opinion,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Who’s making personal remarks now?’ the Hatter asked triumphantly. -

-

- Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to - some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and - repeated her question. ‘Why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ -

-

- The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, - ‘It was a treacle-well.’ -

-

- ‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter - and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the Dormouse sulkily remarked, ‘If - you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for yourself.’ -

-

- ‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t interrupt again. I - dare say there may be one.’ -

-

- ‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to go - on. ‘And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, - you know—’ -

-

- ‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her promise. -

-

- ‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time. -

-

- ‘I want a clean cup,’ interrupted the Hatter: ‘let’s all move one place - on.’ -

-

- He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare - moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the - place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage - from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the - March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. -

-

- Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very - cautiously: ‘But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle - from?’ -

-

- ‘You can draw water out of a water-well,’ said the Hatter; ‘so I should - think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?’ -

-

- ‘But they were in the well,’ Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to - notice this last remark. -

-

- ‘Of course they were’, said the Dormouse; ‘—well in.’ -

-

- This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for - some time without interrupting it. -

-

- ‘They were learning to draw,’ the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing - its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; ‘and they drew all manner of - things—everything that begins with an M—’ -

-

- ‘Why with an M?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Why not?’ said the March Hare. -

-

- Alice was silent. -

-

- The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a - doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little - shriek, and went on: ‘—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, - and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are - “much of a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a - muchness?’ -

-

- ‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, very much confused, ‘I don’t think—’ -

-

- ‘Then you shouldn’t talk,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great - disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither - of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back - once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time - she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot. -

-

- ‘At any rate I’ll never go there again!’ said Alice as she picked her way - through the wood. ‘It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my - life!’ -

-

- Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door - leading right into it. ‘That’s very curious!’ she thought. ‘But - everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.’ And in - she went. -

-

- Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little - glass table. ‘Now, I’ll manage better this time,’ she said to herself, and - began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led - into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had - kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she - walked down the little passage: and then—she found herself at last - in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool - fountains. -

-
-
-

-Chapter VIII. The Queen’s Croquet-Ground

-

- A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing - on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting - them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to - watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of them say, - ‘Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!’ -

-

- ‘I couldn’t help it,’ said Five, in a sulky tone; ‘Seven jogged my elbow.’ -

-

- On which Seven looked up and said, ‘That’s right, Five! Always lay the - blame on others!’ -

-

- ‘You’d better not talk!’ said Five. ‘I heard the Queen say only yesterday - you deserved to be beheaded!’ -

-

- ‘What for?’ said the one who had spoken first. -

-

- ‘That’s none of your business, Two!’ said Seven. -

-

- ‘Yes, it is his business!’ said Five, ‘and I’ll tell him—it was for - bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.’ -

-

- Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun ‘Well, of all the unjust - things—’ when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood - watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round - also, and all of them bowed low. -

-

- ‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are painting - those roses?’ -

-

- Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, - ‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red - rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to - find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, - Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to—’ At this moment - Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out ‘The - Queen! The Queen!’ and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat - upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked - round, eager to see the Queen. -

-

- First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the - three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the - corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with - diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came - the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came - jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented - with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them - Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous - manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing - her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King’s crown on a - crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, came THE - KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. -

-

- Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face - like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of - such a rule at processions; ‘and besides, what would be the use of a - procession,’ thought she, ‘if people had all to lie down upon their faces, - so that they couldn’t see it?’ So she stood still where she was, and - waited. -

-

- When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked at - her, and the Queen said severely ‘Who is this?’ She said it to the Knave - of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. -

-

- ‘Idiot!’ said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to - Alice, she went on, ‘What’s your name, child?’ -

-

- ‘My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,’ said Alice very politely; but - she added, to herself, ‘Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after all. I - needn’t be afraid of them!’ -

-

- ‘And who are these?’ said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who - were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were lying on their - faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the - pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or - courtiers, or three of her own children. -

-

- ‘How should I know?’ said Alice, surprised at her own courage. ‘It’s no - business of mine.’ -

-

- The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment - like a wild beast, screamed ‘Off with her head! Off—’ -

-

- ‘Nonsense!’ said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was - silent. -

-

- The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said ‘Consider, my dear: - she is only a child!’ -

-

- The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave ‘Turn them - over!’ -

-

- The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. -

-

- ‘Get up!’ said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners - instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, the royal - children, and everybody else. -

-

- ‘Leave off that!’ screamed the Queen. ‘You make me giddy.’ And then, - turning to the rose-tree, she went on, ‘What have you been doing here?’ -

-

- ‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Two, in a very humble tone, going down - on one knee as he spoke, ‘we were trying—’ -

-

- ‘I see!’ said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. ‘Off - with their heads!’ and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers - remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to Alice - for protection. -

-

- ‘You shan’t be beheaded!’ said Alice, and she put them into a large - flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a minute - or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. -

-

- ‘Are their heads off?’ shouted the Queen. -

-

- ‘Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!’ the soldiers shouted in - reply. -

-

- ‘That’s right!’ shouted the Queen. ‘Can you play croquet?’ -

-

- The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was - evidently meant for her. -

-

- ‘Yes!’ shouted Alice. -

-

- ‘Come on, then!’ roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, - wondering very much what would happen next. -

-

- ‘It’s—it’s a very fine day!’ said a timid voice at her side. She was - walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. -

-

- ‘Very,’ said Alice: ‘—where’s the Duchess?’ -

-

- ‘Hush! Hush!’ said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked anxiously - over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon tiptoe, put - his mouth close to her ear, and whispered ‘She’s under sentence of - execution.’ -

-

- ‘What for?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Did you say “What a pity!”?’ the Rabbit asked. -

-

- ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Alice: ‘I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said - “What for?”’ -

-

- ‘She boxed the Queen’s ears—’ the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little - scream of laughter. ‘Oh, hush!’ the Rabbit whispered in a frightened tone. - ‘The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the Queen - said—’ -

-

- ‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people - began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; - however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. - Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her - life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the - mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and - to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. -

-

- The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: - she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under - her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got - its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a - blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, - with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out - laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin - again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled - itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was - generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the - hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and - walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the - conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. -

-

- The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all - the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the - Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting ‘Off - with his head!’ or ‘Off with her head!’ about once in a minute. -

-

- Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any - dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, ‘and - then,’ thought she, ‘what would become of me? They’re dreadfully fond of - beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there’s any one left - alive!’ -

-

- She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she - could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance - in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a - minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself ‘It’s - the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to.’ -

-

- ‘How are you getting on?’ said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth enough - for it to speak with. -

-

- Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. ‘It’s no use - speaking to it,’ she thought, ‘till its ears have come, or at least one of - them.’ In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put down - her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had - someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of - it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. -

-

- ‘I don’t think they play at all fairly,’ Alice began, in rather a - complaining tone, ‘and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear - oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; - at least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea - how confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there’s the - arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the - ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, - only it ran away when it saw mine coming!’ -

-

- ‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice. -

-

- ‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely—’ Just then she - noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, ‘—likely - to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ -

-

- The Queen smiled and passed on. -

-

- ‘Who are you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at - the Cat’s head with great curiosity. -

-

- ‘It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to - introduce it.’ -

-

- ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may kiss - my hand if it likes.’ -

-

- ‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked. -

-

- ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ - He got behind Alice as he spoke. -

-

- ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, but - I don’t remember where.’ -

-

- ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called - the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would have - this cat removed!’ -

-

- The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. - ‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. -

-

- ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he hurried - off. -

-

- Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going - on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with - passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be - executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of - things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew - whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. -

-

- The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to - Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: - the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other - side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of - way to fly up into a tree. -

-

- By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight was - over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: ‘but it doesn’t matter - much,’ thought Alice, ‘as all the arches are gone from this side of the - ground.’ So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape - again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend. -

-

- When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a - large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the - executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while - all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. -

-

- The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the - question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all - spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they - said. -

-

- The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head unless - there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a - thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at his time of life. -

-

- The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, - and that you weren’t to talk nonsense. -

-

- The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in less - than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It was this last - remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.) -

-

- Alice could think of nothing else to say but ‘It belongs to the Duchess: - you’d better ask her about it.’ -

-

- ‘She’s in prison,’ the Queen said to the executioner: ‘fetch her here.’ - And the executioner went off like an arrow. -

-

- The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, - by the time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely - disappeared; so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down - looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. -

-
-
-

-Chapter IX. The Mock Turtle’s Story

-

- ‘You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!’ said - the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, and they - walked off together. -

-

- Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to - herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage - when they met in the kitchen. -

-

- ‘When I’m a Duchess,’ she said to herself, (not in a very hopeful tone - though), ‘I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen at all. Soup does very - well without—Maybe it’s always pepper that makes people - hot-tempered,’ she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new - kind of rule, ‘and vinegar that makes them sour—and camomile that - makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such things that - make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew that: then they - wouldn’t be so stingy about it, you know—’ -

-

- She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little - startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. ‘You’re thinking about - something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t tell you - just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit.’ -

-

- ‘Perhaps it hasn’t one,’ Alice ventured to remark. -

-

- ‘Tut, tut, child!’ said the Duchess. ‘Everything’s got a moral, if only - you can find it.’ And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice’s side as - she spoke. -

-

- Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the - Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right - height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably - sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well - as she could. -

-

- ‘The game’s going on rather better now,’ she said, by way of keeping up - the conversation a little. -

-

- ‘’Tis so,’ said the Duchess: ‘and the moral of that is—“Oh, ’tis - love, ’tis love, that makes the world go round!”’ -

-

- ‘Somebody said,’ Alice whispered, ‘that it’s done by everybody minding - their own business!’ -

-

- ‘Ah, well! It means much the same thing,’ said the Duchess, digging her - sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, ‘and the moral of - that is—“Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of - themselves.”’ -

-

- ‘How fond she is of finding morals in things!’ Alice thought to herself. -

-

- ‘I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist,’ the - Duchess said after a pause: ‘the reason is, that I’m doubtful about the - temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?’ -

-

- ‘He might bite,’ Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to - have the experiment tried. -

-

- ‘Very true,’ said the Duchess: ‘flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the - moral of that is—“Birds of a feather flock together.”’ -

-

- ‘Only mustard isn’t a bird,’ Alice remarked. -

-

- ‘Right, as usual,’ said the Duchess: ‘what a clear way you have of putting - things!’ -

-

- ‘It’s a mineral, I think,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Of course it is,’ said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to - everything that Alice said; ‘there’s a large mustard-mine near here. And - the moral of that is—“The more there is of mine, the less there is - of yours.”’ -

-

- ‘Oh, I know!’ exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, - ‘it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.’ -

-

- ‘I quite agree with you,’ said the Duchess; ‘and the moral of that is—“Be - what you would seem to be”—or if you’d like it put more simply—“Never - imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others - that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had - been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.”’ -

-

- ‘I think I should understand that better,’ Alice said very politely, ‘if I - had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.’ -

-

- ‘That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,’ the Duchess replied, in a - pleased tone. -

-

- ‘Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Oh, don’t talk about trouble!’ said the Duchess. ‘I make you a present of - everything I’ve said as yet.’ -

-

- ‘A cheap sort of present!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they don’t give - birthday presents like that!’ But she did not venture to say it out loud. -

-

- ‘Thinking again?’ the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp little - chin. -

-

- ‘I’ve a right to think,’ said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel - a little worried. -

-

- ‘Just about as much right,’ said the Duchess, ‘as pigs have to fly; and - the m—’ -

-

- But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died away, even - in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral,’ and the arm that was linked - into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in - front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. -

-

- ‘A fine day, your Majesty!’ the Duchess began in a low, weak voice. -

-

- ‘Now, I give you fair warning,’ shouted the Queen, stamping on the ground - as she spoke; ‘either you or your head must be off, and that in about half - no time! Take your choice!’ -

-

- The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. -

-

- ‘Let’s go on with the game,’ the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too - much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the - croquet-ground. -

-

- The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and were - resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back - to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment’s delay would cost - them their lives. -

-

- All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with - the other players, and shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with her - head!’ Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, - who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end - of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, - except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody and under sentence - of execution. -

-

- Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, ‘Have you - seen the Mock Turtle yet?’ -

-

- ‘No,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.’ -

-

- ‘It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,’ said the Queen. -

-

- ‘I never saw one, or heard of one,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Come on, then,’ said the Queen, ‘and he shall tell you his history,’ -

-

- As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to - the company generally, ‘You are all pardoned.’ ’Come, that’s a good - thing!’ she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number - of executions the Queen had ordered. -

-

- They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If you - don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) ‘Up, lazy thing!’ said - the Queen, ‘and take this young lady to see the Mock Turtle, and to hear - his history. I must go back and see after some executions I have ordered’; - and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice did not - quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would - be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so she - waited. -

-

- The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till she - was out of sight: then it chuckled. ‘What fun!’ said the Gryphon, half to - itself, half to Alice. -

-

- ‘What is the fun?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Why, she,’ said the Gryphon. ‘It’s all her fancy, that: they never - executes nobody, you know. Come on!’ -

-

- ‘Everybody says “come on!” here,’ thought Alice, as she went slowly after - it: ‘I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!’ -

-

- They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, - sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came - nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She - pitied him deeply. ‘What is his sorrow?’ she asked the Gryphon, and the - Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, ‘It’s all his - fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’ -

-

- So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes - full of tears, but said nothing. -

-

- ‘This here young lady,’ said the Gryphon, ‘she wants for to know your - history, she do.’ -

-

- ‘I’ll tell it her,’ said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: ‘sit - down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’ -

-

- So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to - herself, ‘I don’t see how he can ever finish, if he doesn’t begin.’ But - she waited patiently. -

-

- ‘Once,’ said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, ‘I was a real - Turtle.’ -

-

- These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an - occasional exclamation of ‘Hjckrrh!’ from the Gryphon, and the constant - heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and - saying, ‘Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,’ but she could not - help thinking there must be more to come, so she sat still and said - nothing. -

-

- ‘When we were little,’ the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, - though still sobbing a little now and then, ‘we went to school in the sea. - The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—’ -

-

- ‘Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?’ Alice asked. -

-

- ‘We called him Tortoise because he taught us,’ said the Mock Turtle - angrily: ‘really you are very dull!’ -

-

- ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question,’ - added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor Alice, - who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to the - Mock Turtle, ‘Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all day about it!’ and he - went on in these words: -

-

- ‘Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe it—’ -

-

- ‘I never said I didn’t!’ interrupted Alice. -

-

- ‘You did,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Hold your tongue!’ added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. The - Mock Turtle went on. -

-

- ‘We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—’ -

-

- ‘I’ve been to a day-school, too,’ said Alice; ‘you needn’t be so proud as - all that.’ -

-

- ‘With extras?’ asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously. -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘we learned French and music.’ -

-

- ‘And washing?’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Certainly not!’ said Alice indignantly. -

-

- ‘Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,’ said the Mock Turtle in a - tone of great relief. ‘Now at ours they had at the end of the bill, - “French, music, and washing—extra.”’ -

-

- ‘You couldn’t have wanted it much,’ said Alice; ‘living at the bottom of - the sea.’ -

-

- ‘I couldn’t afford to learn it.’ said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. ‘I only - took the regular course.’ -

-

- ‘What was that?’ inquired Alice. -

-

- ‘Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,’ the Mock Turtle replied; - ‘and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, - Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’ -

-

- ‘I never heard of “Uglification,”’ Alice ventured to say. ‘What is it?’ -

-

- The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. ‘What! Never heard of - uglifying!’ it exclaimed. ‘You know what to beautify is, I suppose?’ -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice doubtfully: ‘it means—to—make—anything—prettier.’ -

-

- ‘Well, then,’ the Gryphon went on, ‘if you don’t know what to uglify is, - you are a simpleton.’ -

-

- Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she - turned to the Mock Turtle, and said ‘What else had you to learn?’ -

-

- ‘Well, there was Mystery,’ the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the - subjects on his flappers, ‘—Mystery, ancient and modern, with - Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, - that used to come once a week: he taught us Drawling, Stretching, and - Fainting in Coils.’ -

-

- ‘What was that like?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Well, I can’t show it you myself,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘I’m too stiff. - And the Gryphon never learnt it.’ -

-

- ‘Hadn’t time,’ said the Gryphon: ‘I went to the Classics master, though. - He was an old crab, he was.’ -

-

- ‘I never went to him,’ the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: ‘he taught - Laughing and Grief, they used to say.’ -

-

- ‘So he did, so he did,’ said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both - creatures hid their faces in their paws. -

-

- ‘And how many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice, in a hurry to - change the subject. -

-

- ‘Ten hours the first day,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘nine the next, and so - on.’ -

-

- ‘What a curious plan!’ exclaimed Alice. -

-

- ‘That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked: ‘because - they lessen from day to day.’ -

-

- This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little - before she made her next remark. ‘Then the eleventh day must have been a - holiday?’ -

-

- ‘Of course it was,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘And how did you manage on the twelfth?’ Alice went on eagerly. -

-

- ‘That’s enough about lessons,’ the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided - tone: ‘tell her something about the games now.’ -

-
-
-

-Chapter X. The Lobster Quadrille

-

- The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his - eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs - choked his voice. ‘Same as if he had a bone in his throat,’ said the - Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back. At - last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his - cheeks, he went on again:— -

-

- ‘You may not have lived much under the sea—’ (‘I haven’t,’ said - Alice)—‘and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—’ - (Alice began to say ‘I once tasted—’ but checked herself hastily, - and said ‘No, never’) ‘—so you can have no idea what a delightful - thing a Lobster Quadrille is!’ -

-

- ‘No, indeed,’ said Alice. ‘What sort of a dance is it?’ -

-

- ‘Why,’ said the Gryphon, ‘you first form into a line along the sea-shore—’ -

-

- ‘Two lines!’ cried the Mock Turtle. ‘Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; - then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—’ -

-

- ‘That generally takes some time,’ interrupted the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘—you advance twice—’ -

-

- ‘Each with a lobster as a partner!’ cried the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Of course,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘advance twice, set to partners—’ -

-

- ‘—change lobsters, and retire in same order,’ continued the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Then, you know,’ the Mock Turtle went on, ‘you throw the—’ -

-

- ‘The lobsters!’ shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. -

-

- ‘—as far out to sea as you can—’ -

-

- ‘Swim after them!’ screamed the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Turn a somersault in the sea!’ cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly - about. -

-

- ‘Change lobsters again!’ yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. -

-

- ‘Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,’ said the Mock - Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been - jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and - quietly, and looked at Alice. -

-

- ‘It must be a very pretty dance,’ said Alice timidly. -

-

- ‘Would you like to see a little of it?’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘Very much indeed,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Come, let’s try the first figure!’ said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. - ‘We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?’ -

-

- ‘Oh, you sing,’ said the Gryphon. ‘I’ve forgotten the words.’ -

-

- So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then - treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws - to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:— -

-
- ‘“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail. - “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. - - See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! - They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance? - - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance? - - “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be - When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!” - But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance— - Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. - - Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. - Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. - - ‘"What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied. - “There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. - The further off from England the nearer is to France— - Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. - - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? - Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”’ -
-

- ‘Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,’ said Alice, feeling - very glad that it was over at last: ‘and I do so like that curious song - about the whiting!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, as to the whiting,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘they—you’ve seen - them, of course?’ -

-

- ‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘I’ve often seen them at dinn—’ she checked - herself hastily. -

-

- ‘I don’t know where Dinn may be,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘but if you’ve - seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.’ -

-

- ‘I believe so,’ Alice replied thoughtfully. ‘They have their tails in - their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.’ -

-

- ‘You’re wrong about the crumbs,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘crumbs would all - wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; and the - reason is—’ here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes.—‘Tell - her about the reason and all that,’ he said to the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘The reason is,’ said the Gryphon, ‘that they would go with the lobsters - to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long - way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn’t get - them out again. That’s all.’ -

-

- ‘Thank you,’ said Alice, ‘it’s very interesting. I never knew so much - about a whiting before.’ -

-

- ‘I can tell you more than that, if you like,’ said the Gryphon. ‘Do you - know why it’s called a whiting?’ -

-

- ‘I never thought about it,’ said Alice. ‘Why?’ -

-

- ‘It does the boots and shoes,’ the Gryphon replied very solemnly. -

-

- Alice was thoroughly puzzled. ‘Does the boots and shoes!’ she repeated in - a wondering tone. -

-

- ‘Why, what are your shoes done with?’ said the Gryphon. ‘I mean, what - makes them so shiny?’ -

-

- Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her - answer. ‘They’re done with blacking, I believe.’ -

-

- ‘Boots and shoes under the sea,’ the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, ‘are - done with a whiting. Now you know.’ -

-

- ‘And what are they made of?’ Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. -

-

- ‘Soles and eels, of course,’ the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: ‘any - shrimp could have told you that.’ -

-

- ‘If I’d been the whiting,’ said Alice, whose thoughts were still running - on the song, ‘I’d have said to the porpoise, “Keep back, please: we don’t - want you with us!”’ -

-

- ‘They were obliged to have him with them,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘no wise - fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.’ -

-

- ‘Wouldn’t it really?’ said Alice in a tone of great surprise. -

-

- ‘Of course not,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘why, if a fish came to me, and - told me he was going a journey, I should say “With what porpoise?”’ -

-

- ‘Don’t you mean “purpose”?’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘I mean what I say,’ the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And the - Gryphon added ‘Come, let’s hear some of your adventures.’ -

-

- ‘I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,’ said - Alice a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because - I was a different person then.’ -

-

- ‘Explain all that,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘No, no! The adventures first,’ said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: - ‘explanations take such a dreadful time.’ -

-

- So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first - saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the - two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes - and mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her - listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her - repeating ‘You are old, Father William,’ to the Caterpillar, and the words - all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and - said ‘That’s very curious.’ -

-

- ‘It’s all about as curious as it can be,’ said the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘It all came different!’ the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. ‘I should - like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin.’ He - looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over - Alice. -

-

- ‘Stand up and repeat “’Tis the voice of the sluggard,”’ said the Gryphon. -

-

- ‘How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!’ thought - Alice; ‘I might as well be at school at once.’ However, she got up, and - began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille, - that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer - indeed:— -

-
- ‘’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, - “You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.” - As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose - Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.’ - - [later editions continued as follows - When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, - And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, - But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, - His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.] -
-

- ‘That’s different from what I used to say when I was a child,’ said the - Gryphon. -

-

- ‘Well, I never heard it before,’ said the Mock Turtle; ‘but it sounds - uncommon nonsense.’ -

-

- Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering - if anything would ever happen in a natural way again. -

-

- ‘I should like to have it explained,’ said the Mock Turtle. -

-

- ‘She can’t explain it,’ said the Gryphon hastily. ‘Go on with the next - verse.’ -

-

- ‘But about his toes?’ the Mock Turtle persisted. ‘How could he turn them - out with his nose, you know?’ -

-

- ‘It’s the first position in dancing.’ Alice said; but was dreadfully - puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. -

-

- ‘Go on with the next verse,’ the Gryphon repeated impatiently: ‘it begins - “I passed by his garden.”’ -

-

- Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come - wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:— -

-
- ‘I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, - How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—’ - - [later editions continued as follows - The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, - While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. - When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, - Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: - While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, - And concluded the banquet—] -
-

- ‘What is the use of repeating all that stuff,’ the Mock Turtle - interrupted, ‘if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the most - confusing thing I ever heard!’ -

-

- ‘Yes, I think you’d better leave off,’ said the Gryphon: and Alice was - only too glad to do so. -

-

- ‘Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?’ the Gryphon went - on. ‘Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?’ -

-

- ‘Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,’ Alice replied, - so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, ‘Hm! No - accounting for tastes! Sing her “Turtle Soup,” will you, old fellow?’ -

-

- The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with - sobs, to sing this:— -

-
- -‘Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, -Waiting in a hot tureen! -Who for such dainties would not stoop? -Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! -Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! -Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! -Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! -Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, -Beautiful, beautiful Soup! - -’Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, -Game, or any other dish? -Who would not give all else for two -Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? -Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? -Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! -Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! -Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, -Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!’ - -
-

- ‘Chorus again!’ cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun to - repeat it, when a cry of ‘The trial’s beginning!’ was heard in the - distance. -

-

- ‘Come on!’ cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried - off, without waiting for the end of the song. -

-

- ‘What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only answered - ‘Come on!’ and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried - on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:— -

-
- ‘Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, - Beautiful, beautiful Soup!’ -
-
-
-

-Chapter XI. Who Stole the Tarts?

-

- The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they - arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little - birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was - standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; - and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a - scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a - table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it - made Alice quite hungry to look at them—‘I wish they’d get the trial - done,’ she thought, ‘and hand round the refreshments!’ But there seemed to - be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to - pass away the time. -

-

- Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about - them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of - nearly everything there. ‘That’s the judge,’ she said to herself, ‘because - of his great wig.’ -

-

- The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the - wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did - not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. -

-

- ‘And that’s the jury-box,’ thought Alice, ‘and those twelve creatures,’ - (she was obliged to say ‘creatures,’ you see, because some of them were - animals, and some were birds,) ‘I suppose they are the jurors.’ She said - this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of - it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her - age knew the meaning of it at all. However, ‘jury-men’ would have done - just as well. -

-

- The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. ‘What are they - doing?’ Alice whispered to the Gryphon. ‘They can’t have anything to put - down yet, before the trial’s begun.’ -

-

- ‘They’re putting down their names,’ the Gryphon whispered in reply, ‘for - fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.’ -

-

- ‘Stupid things!’ Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped - hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, ‘Silence in the court!’ and the - King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was - talking. -

-

- Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that - all the jurors were writing down ‘stupid things!’ on their slates, and she - could even make out that one of them didn’t know how to spell ‘stupid,’ - and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. ‘A nice muddle their - slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!’ thought Alice. -

-

- One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could - not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon - found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the - poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out at all what - had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to - write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little - use, as it left no mark on the slate. -

-

- ‘Herald, read the accusation!’ said the King. -

-

- On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then - unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:— -

-
- ‘The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, - All on a summer day: - The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, - And took them quite away!’ -
-

- ‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury. -

-

- ‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rabbit hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great deal - to come before that!’ -

-

- ‘Call the first witness,’ said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three - blasts on the trumpet, and called out, ‘First witness!’ -

-

- The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand and - a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. ‘I beg pardon, your Majesty,’ he - began, ‘for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite finished my tea when I - was sent for.’ -

-

- ‘You ought to have finished,’ said the King. ‘When did you begin?’ -

-

- The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the court, - arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. ‘Fourteenth of March, I think it was,’ he - said. -

-

- ‘Fifteenth,’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘Sixteenth,’ added the Dormouse. -

-

- ‘Write that down,’ the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote - down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced - the answer to shillings and pence. -

-

- ‘Take off your hat,’ the King said to the Hatter. -

-

- ‘It isn’t mine,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘Stolen!’ the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a - memorandum of the fact. -

-

- ‘I keep them to sell,’ the Hatter added as an explanation; ‘I’ve none of - my own. I’m a hatter.’ -

-

- Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, who - turned pale and fidgeted. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ said the King; ‘and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have - you executed on the spot.’ -

-

- This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from - one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion - he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter. -

-

- Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her - a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow - larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the - court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long - as there was room for her. -

-

- ‘I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.’ said the Dormouse, who was sitting next - to her. ‘I can hardly breathe.’ -

-

- ‘I can’t help it,’ said Alice very meekly: ‘I’m growing.’ -

-

- ‘You’ve no right to grow here,’ said the Dormouse. -

-

- ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said Alice more boldly: ‘you know you’re growing - too.’ -

-

- ‘Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,’ said the Dormouse: ‘not in that - ridiculous fashion.’ And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the - other side of the court. -

-

- All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, - just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of - the court, ‘Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!’ on - which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ the King repeated angrily, ‘or I’ll have you - executed, whether you’re nervous or not.’ -

-

- ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, ‘—and - I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the - bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—’ -

-

- ‘The twinkling of the what?’ said the King. -

-

- ‘It began with the tea,’ the Hatter replied. -

-

- ‘Of course twinkling begins with a T!’ said the King sharply. ‘Do you take - me for a dunce? Go on!’ -

-

- ‘I’m a poor man,’ the Hatter went on, ‘and most things twinkled after that—only - the March Hare said—’ -

-

- ‘I didn’t!’ the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry. -

-

- ‘You did!’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘I deny it!’ said the March Hare. -

-

- ‘He denies it,’ said the King: ‘leave out that part.’ -

-

- ‘Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—’ the Hatter went on, looking - anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied - nothing, being fast asleep. -

-

- ‘After that,’ continued the Hatter, ‘I cut some more bread-and-butter—’ -

-

- ‘But what did the Dormouse say?’ one of the jury asked. -

-

- ‘That I can’t remember,’ said the Hatter. -

-

- ‘You must remember,’ remarked the King, ‘or I’ll have you executed.’ -

-

- The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went - down on one knee. ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ he began. -

-

- ‘You’re a very poor speaker,’ said the King. -

-

- Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the - officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just explain - to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the - mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and - then sat upon it.) -

-

- ‘I’m glad I’ve seen that done,’ thought Alice. ‘I’ve so often read in the - newspapers, at the end of trials, “There was some attempts at applause, - which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,” and I - never understood what it meant till now.’ -

-

- ‘If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,’ continued the King. -

-

- ‘I can’t go no lower,’ said the Hatter: ‘I’m on the floor, as it is.’ -

-

- ‘Then you may sit down,’ the King replied. -

-

- Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. -

-

- ‘Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!’ thought Alice. ‘Now we shall get on - better.’ -

-

- ‘I’d rather finish my tea,’ said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the - Queen, who was reading the list of singers. -

-

- ‘You may go,’ said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, - without even waiting to put his shoes on. -

-

- ‘—and just take his head off outside,’ the Queen added to one of the - officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to - the door. -

-

- ‘Call the next witness!’ said the King. -

-

- The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in her - hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by - the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. -

-

- ‘Give your evidence,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Shan’t,’ said the cook. -

-

- The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, - ‘Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.’ -

-

- ‘Well, if I must, I must,’ the King said, with a melancholy air, and, - after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly - out of sight, he said in a deep voice, ‘What are tarts made of?’ -

-

- ‘Pepper, mostly,’ said the cook. -

-

- ‘Treacle,’ said a sleepy voice behind her. -

-

- ‘Collar that Dormouse,’ the Queen shrieked out. ‘Behead that Dormouse! - Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his - whiskers!’ -

-

- For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse - turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had - disappeared. -

-

- ‘Never mind!’ said the King, with an air of great relief. ‘Call the next - witness.’ And he added in an undertone to the Queen, ‘Really, my dear, you - must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!’ -

-

- Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very - curious to see what the next witness would be like, ‘—for they - haven’t got much evidence yet,’ she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, - when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the - name ‘Alice!’ -

-
-
-

-Chapter XII. Alice’s Evidence

-

- ‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how - large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a - hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, - upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there - they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish - she had accidentally upset the week before. -

-

- ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and - began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of - the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea - that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or - they would die. -

-

- ‘The trial cannot proceed,’ said the King in a very grave voice, ‘until - all the jurymen are back in their proper places—all,’ he repeated - with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. -

-

- Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the - Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail - about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got it out - again, and put it right; ‘not that it signifies much,’ she said to - herself; ‘I should think it would be quite as much use in the trial one - way up as the other.’ -

-

- As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, - and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they - set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all - except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit - with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court. -

-

- ‘What do you know about this business?’ the King said to Alice. -

-

- ‘Nothing,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Nothing whatever?’ persisted the King. -

-

- ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘That’s very important,’ the King said, turning to the jury. They were - just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit - interrupted: ‘Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,’ he said in a - very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke. -

-

- ‘Unimportant, of course, I meant,’ the King hastily said, and went on to - himself in an undertone, -

-

- ‘important—unimportant—unimportant—important—’ as - if he were trying which word sounded best. -

-

- Some of the jury wrote it down ‘important,’ and some ‘unimportant.’ Alice - could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; ‘but it - doesn’t matter a bit,’ she thought to herself. -

-

- At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his - note-book, cackled out ‘Silence!’ and read out from his book, ‘Rule - Forty-two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.’ -

-

- Everybody looked at Alice. -

-

- ‘I’m not a mile high,’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘You are,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Nearly two miles high,’ added the Queen. -

-

- ‘Well, I shan’t go, at any rate,’ said Alice: ‘besides, that’s not a - regular rule: you invented it just now.’ -

-

- ‘It’s the oldest rule in the book,’ said the King. -

-

- ‘Then it ought to be Number One,’ said Alice. -

-

- The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. ‘Consider your - verdict,’ he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. -

-

- ‘There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,’ said the White - Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; ‘this paper has just been picked up.’ -

-

- ‘What’s in it?’ said the Queen. -

-

- ‘I haven’t opened it yet,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘but it seems to be a - letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.’ -

-

- ‘It must have been that,’ said the King, ‘unless it was written to nobody, - which isn’t usual, you know.’ -

-

- ‘Who is it directed to?’ said one of the jurymen. -

-

- ‘It isn’t directed at all,’ said the White Rabbit; ‘in fact, there’s - nothing written on the outside.’ He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and - added ‘It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of verses.’ -

-

- ‘Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?’ asked another of the jurymen. -

-

- ‘No, they’re not,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘and that’s the queerest thing - about it.’ (The jury all looked puzzled.) -

-

- ‘He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,’ said the King. (The jury all - brightened up again.) -

-

- ‘Please your Majesty,’ said the Knave, ‘I didn’t write it, and they can’t - prove I did: there’s no name signed at the end.’ -

-

- ‘If you didn’t sign it,’ said the King, ‘that only makes the matter worse. - You must have meant some mischief, or else you’d have signed your name - like an honest man.’ -

-

- There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really - clever thing the King had said that day. -

-

- ‘That proves his guilt,’ said the Queen. -

-

- ‘It proves nothing of the sort!’ said Alice. ‘Why, you don’t even know - what they’re about!’ -

-

- ‘Read them,’ said the King. -

-

- The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please your - Majesty?’ he asked. -

-

- ‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you come - to the end: then stop.’ -

-

- These were the verses the White Rabbit read:— -

-
- - ‘They told me you had been to her, - And mentioned me to him: - She gave me a good character, - But said I could not swim. - - He sent them word I had not gone - (We know it to be true): - If she should push the matter on, - What would become of you? - - I gave her one, they gave him two, - You gave us three or more; - They all returned from him to you, - Though they were mine before. - - If I or she should chance to be - Involved in this affair, - He trusts to you to set them free, - Exactly as we were. - - My notion was that you had been - (Before she had this fit) - An obstacle that came between - Him, and ourselves, and it. - - Don’t let him know she liked them best, - For this must ever be - A secret, kept from all the rest, - Between yourself and me.’ - -
-

- ‘That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,’ said the - King, rubbing his hands; ‘so now let the jury—’ -

-

- ‘If any one of them can explain it,’ said Alice, (she had grown so large - in the last few minutes that she wasn’t a bit afraid of interrupting him,) - ‘I’ll give him sixpence. I don’t believe there’s an atom of meaning - in it.’ -

-

- The jury all wrote down on their slates, ‘She doesn’t believe there’s an - atom of meaning in it,’ but none of them attempted to explain the paper. -

-

- ‘If there’s no meaning in it,’ said the King, ‘that saves a world of - trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t know,’ - he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with - one eye; ‘I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. “—said I - could not swim—” you can’t swim, can you?’ he added, turning to the - Knave. -

-

- The Knave shook his head sadly. ‘Do I look like it?’ he said. (Which he - certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.) -

-

- ‘All right, so far,’ said the King, and he went on muttering over the - verses to himself: ‘“We know it to be true—” that’s the jury, of - course—“I gave her one, they gave him two—” why, that must be - what he did with the tarts, you know—’ -

-

- ‘But, it goes on “they all returned from him to you,”’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Why, there they are!’ said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts - on the table. ‘Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again—“before - she had this fit—” you never had fits, my dear, I think?’ he said to - the Queen. -

-

- ‘Never!’ said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as - she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate - with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began - again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it - lasted.) -

-

- ‘Then the words don’t fit you,’ said the King, looking round the court - with a smile. There was a dead silence. -

-

- ‘It’s a pun!’ the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, - ‘Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for about the - twentieth time that day. -

-

- ‘No, no!’ said the Queen. ‘Sentence first—verdict afterwards.’ -

-

- ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Alice loudly. ‘The idea of having the sentence - first!’ -

-

- ‘Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple. -

-

- ‘I won’t!’ said Alice. -

-

- ‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody - moved. -

-

- ‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this - time.) ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’ -

-

- At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon - her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried - to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in - the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that - had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. -

-

- ‘Wake up, Alice dear!’ said her sister; ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve - had!’ -

-

- ‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her sister, - as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers - that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her - sister kissed her, and said, ‘It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but - now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’ So Alice got up and ran off, - thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had - been. -

-

- But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her - hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her - wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and - this was her dream:— -

-

- First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands - were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into - hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer - little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always - get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, - the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her - little sister’s dream. -

-

- The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the - frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she - could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends - shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering - off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was - sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once - more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s - slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the - air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle. -

-

- So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, - though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to - dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the - pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would - change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice - of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the - Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the - confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the - cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy - sobs. -

-

- Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, - in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, - through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: - and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their - eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the - dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their - simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering - her own child-life, and the happy summer days. -

-
- diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.html deleted file mode 100644 index 0e752f1..0000000 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8939 +0,0 @@ - - - - - White Fang - - - - -
-

White Fang

-
By Jack London
-
-
-
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost - no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at - www.gutenberg.net -

- Transcribed from the 1915 Methuen and Co edition by David Price, email - ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. -

-
-
- -
-
-

Part I

-
-

- Chapter IThe Trail of the Meat -

-

- Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The - trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of - frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and - ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. - The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so - lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. - There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible - than any sadness—a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the - sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness - of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of - eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It - was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. -

-

- But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the - frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur - was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their - mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled upon the - hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. Leather - harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled - which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. It was - made of stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. - The front end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to - force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like a wave - before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow - oblong box. There were other things on the sled—blankets, an axe, - and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of - the space, was the long and narrow oblong box. -

-

- In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear - of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a - third man whose toil was over,—a man whom the Wild had conquered and - beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again. It is not - the way of the Wild to like movement. Life is an offence to it, for - life is movement; and the Wild aims always to destroy movement. It - freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea; it drives the - sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; - and most ferociously and terribly of all does the Wild harry and - crush into submission man—man who is the most restless of life, ever - in revolt against the dictum that all movement must in the end come - to the cessation of movement. -

-

- But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men - who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and - soft-tanned leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated - with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not - discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, - undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But - under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and - mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, - pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien - and pulseless as the abysses of space. -

-

- They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work - of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them - with a tangible presence. It affected their minds as the many - atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. It crushed - them with the weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. It - crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing - out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and - exaltations and undue self-values of the human soul, until they - perceived themselves finite and small, specks and motes, moving with - weak cunning and little wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the - great blind elements and forces. -

-

- An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short - sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the - still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its - topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then - slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not - been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. - The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man - behind. And then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to the - other. -

-

- A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle-like - shrillness. Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, - somewhere in the snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and - answering cry arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second - cry. -

-

“They’re after us, Bill,” said the man at the front.

-

- His voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent - effort. -

-

- “Meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. “I ain’t seen a rabbit sign - for days.” -

-

- Thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the - hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them. -

-

- At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce - trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, at - the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, - clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among - themselves, but evinced no inclination to stray off into the - darkness. -

-

- “Seems to me, Henry, they’re stayin’ remarkable close to camp,” Bill - commented. -

-

- Henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with a - piece of ice, nodded. Nor did he speak till he had taken his seat on - the coffin and begun to eat. -

-

- “They know where their hides is safe,” he said. “They’d sooner eat - grub than be grub. They’re pretty wise, them dogs.” -

-

Bill shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know.”

-

- His comrade looked at him curiously. “First time I ever heard you - say anything about their not bein’ wise.” -

-

- “Henry,” said the other, munching with deliberation the beans he was - eating, “did you happen to notice the way them dogs kicked up when I - was a-feedin’ ’em?” -

-

“They did cut up more’n usual,” Henry acknowledged.

-

“How many dogs ’ve we got, Henry?”

-

“Six.”

-

- “Well, Henry . . . ” Bill stopped for a moment, in order that his - words might gain greater significance. “As I was sayin’, Henry, - we’ve got six dogs. I took six fish out of the bag. I gave one fish - to each dog, an’, Henry, I was one fish short.” -

-

“You counted wrong.”

-

- “We’ve got six dogs,” the other reiterated dispassionately. “I took - out six fish. One Ear didn’t get no fish. I came back to the bag - afterward an’ got ’m his fish.” -

-

“We’ve only got six dogs,” Henry said.

-

- “Henry,” Bill went on. “I won’t say they was all dogs, but there was - seven of ’m that got fish.” -

-

- Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs. -

-

“There’s only six now,” he said.

-

- “I saw the other one run off across the snow,” Bill announced with - cool positiveness. “I saw seven.” -

-

- Henry looked at him commiseratingly, and said, “I’ll be almighty - glad when this trip’s over.” -

-

“What d’ye mean by that?” Bill demanded.

-

- “I mean that this load of ourn is gettin’ on your nerves, an’ that - you’re beginnin’ to see things.” -

-

- “I thought of that,” Bill answered gravely. “An’ so, when I saw it - run off across the snow, I looked in the snow an’ saw its tracks. - Then I counted the dogs an’ there was still six of ’em. The tracks - is there in the snow now. D’ye want to look at ’em? I’ll show ’em to - you.” -

-

- Henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal - finished, he topped it with a final cup of coffee. He wiped his - mouth with the back of his hand and said: -

-

“Then you’re thinkin’ as it was—”

-

- A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, - had interrupted him. He stopped to listen to it, then he finished - his sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, - “—one of them?” -

-

- Bill nodded. “I’d a blame sight sooner think that than anything - else. You noticed yourself the row the dogs made.” -

-

- Cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into a - bedlam. From every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed their - fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their hair - was scorched by the heat. Bill threw on more wood, before lighting - his pipe. -

-

“I’m thinking you’re down in the mouth some,” Henry said.

-

- “Henry . . . ” He sucked meditatively at his pipe for some time - before he went on. “Henry, I was a-thinkin’ what a blame sight - luckier he is than you an’ me’ll ever be.” -

-

- He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to - the box on which they sat. -

-

- “You an’ me, Henry, when we die, we’ll be lucky if we get enough - stones over our carcases to keep the dogs off of us.” -

-

- “But we ain’t got people an’ money an’ all the rest, like him,” - Henry rejoined. “Long-distance funerals is somethin’ you an’ me - can’t exactly afford.” -

-

- “What gets me, Henry, is what a chap like this, that’s a lord or - something in his own country, and that’s never had to bother about - grub nor blankets; why he comes a-buttin’ round the Godforsaken ends - of the earth—that’s what I can’t exactly see.” -

-

- “He might have lived to a ripe old age if he’d stayed at home,” - Henry agreed. -

-

- Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, he - pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed about them from - every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; - only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry - indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of the - gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again a pair of - eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later. -

-

- The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in a - surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and - crawling about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs - had been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with - pain and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. - The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a - moment and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the - dogs became quiet. -

-

“Henry, it’s a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition.”

-

- Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread - the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid - over the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing his - moccasins. -

-

“How many cartridges did you say you had left?” he asked.

-

- “Three,” came the answer. “An’ I wisht ’twas three hundred. Then I’d - show ’em what for, damn ’em!” -

-

- He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely - to prop his moccasins before the fire. -

-

- “An’ I wisht this cold snap’d break,” he went on. “It’s ben fifty - below for two weeks now. An’ I wisht I’d never started on this trip, - Henry. I don’t like the looks of it. I don’t feel right, somehow. - An’ while I’m wishin’, I wisht the trip was over an’ done with, an’ - you an’ me a-sittin’ by the fire in Fort McGurry just about now an’ - playing cribbage—that’s what I wisht.” -

-

- Henry grunted and crawled into bed. As he dozed off he was aroused - by his comrade’s voice. -

-

- “Say, Henry, that other one that come in an’ got a fish—why didn’t - the dogs pitch into it? That’s what’s botherin’ me.” -

-

- “You’re botherin’ too much, Bill,” came the sleepy response. “You - was never like this before. You jes’ shut up now, an’ go to sleep, - an’ you’ll be all hunkydory in the mornin’. Your stomach’s sour, - that’s what’s botherin’ you.” -

-

- The men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one - covering. The fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the - circle they had flung about the camp. The dogs clustered together in - fear, now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew - close. Once their uproar became so loud that Bill woke up. He got - out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, - and threw more wood on the fire. As it began to flame up, the circle - of eyes drew farther back. He glanced casually at the huddling dogs. - He rubbed his eyes and looked at them more sharply. Then he crawled - back into the blankets. -

-

“Henry,” he said. “Oh, Henry.”

-

- Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, - “What’s wrong now?” -

-

- “Nothin’,” came the answer; “only there’s seven of ’em again. I just - counted.” -

-

- Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid - into a snore as he drifted back into sleep. -

-

- In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion - out of bed. Daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already - six o’clock; and in the darkness Henry went about preparing - breakfast, while Bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready - for lashing. -

-

- “Say, Henry,” he asked suddenly, “how many dogs did you say we had?” -

-

“Six.”

-

“Wrong,” Bill proclaimed triumphantly.

-

“Seven again?” Henry queried.

-

“No, five; one’s gone.”

-

- “The hell!” Henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking to come and - count the dogs. -

-

“You’re right, Bill,” he concluded. “Fatty’s gone.”

-

- “An’ he went like greased lightnin’ once he got started. Couldn’t - ’ve seen ’m for smoke.” -

-

- “No chance at all,” Henry concluded. “They jes’ swallowed ’m alive. - I bet he was yelpin’ as he went down their throats, damn ’em!” -

-

“He always was a fool dog,” said Bill.

-

- “But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an’ commit - suicide that way.” He looked over the remainder of the team with a - speculative eye that summed up instantly the salient traits of each - animal. “I bet none of the others would do it.” -

-

- “Couldn’t drive ’em away from the fire with a club,” Bill agreed. “I - always did think there was somethin’ wrong with Fatty anyway.” -

-

- And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail—less - scant than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIThe She-Wolf -

-

- Breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the men - turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the - darkness. At once began to rise the cries that were fiercely - sad—cries that called through the darkness and cold to one another - and answered back. Conversation ceased. Daylight came at nine - o’clock. At midday the sky to the south warmed to rose-colour, and - marked where the bulge of the earth intervened between the meridian - sun and the northern world. But the rose-colour swiftly faded. The - grey light of day that remained lasted until three o’clock, when it, - too, faded, and the pall of the Arctic night descended upon the lone - and silent land. -

-

- As darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear - drew closer—so close that more than once they sent surges of fear - through the toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics. -

-

- At the conclusion of one such panic, when he and Henry had got the - dogs back in the traces, Bill said: -

-

- “I wisht they’d strike game somewheres, an’ go away an’ leave us - alone.” -

-

“They do get on the nerves horrible,” Henry sympathised.

-

They spoke no more until camp was made.

-

- Henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans - when he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from - Bill, and a sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. He - straightened up in time to see a dim form disappearing across the - snow into the shelter of the dark. Then he saw Bill, standing amid - the dogs, half triumphant, half crestfallen, in one hand a stout - club, in the other the tail and part of the body of a sun-cured - salmon. -

-

- “It got half of it,” he announced; “but I got a whack at it jes’ the - same. D’ye hear it squeal?” -

-

“What’d it look like?” Henry asked.

-

- “Couldn’t see. But it had four legs an’ a mouth an’ hair an’ looked - like any dog.” -

-

“Must be a tame wolf, I reckon.”

-

- “It’s damned tame, whatever it is, comin’ in here at feedin’ time - an’ gettin’ its whack of fish.” -

-

- That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box - and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even - closer than before. -

-

- “I wisht they’d spring up a bunch of moose or something, an’ go away - an’ leave us alone,” Bill said. -

-

- Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for - a quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the - fire, and Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness - just beyond the firelight. -

-

- “I wisht we was pullin’ into McGurry right now,” he began again. -

-

- “Shut up your wishin’ and your croakin’,” Henry burst out angrily. - “Your stomach’s sour. That’s what’s ailin’ you. Swallow a spoonful - of sody, an’ you’ll sweeten up wonderful an’ be more pleasant - company.” -

-

- In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded - from the mouth of Bill. Henry propped himself up on an elbow and - looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the - replenished fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face distorted - with passion. -

-

“Hello!” Henry called. “What’s up now?”

-

“Frog’s gone,” came the answer.

-

“No.”

-

“I tell you yes.”

-

- Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. He counted them - with care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of the - Wild that had robbed them of another dog. -

-

- “Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch,” Bill pronounced finally. -

-

“An’ he was no fool dog neither,” Henry added.

-

And so was recorded the second epitaph in two days.

-

- A gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the four remaining dogs were - harnessed to the sled. The day was a repetition of the days that had - gone before. The men toiled without speech across the face of the - frozen world. The silence was unbroken save by the cries of their - pursuers, that, unseen, hung upon their rear. With the coming of - night in the mid-afternoon, the cries sounded closer as the pursuers - drew in according to their custom; and the dogs grew excited and - frightened, and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and - further depressed the two men. -

-

- “There, that’ll fix you fool critters,” Bill said with satisfaction - that night, standing erect at completion of his task. -

-

- Henry left the cooking to come and see. Not only had his partner - tied the dogs up, but he had tied them, after the Indian fashion, - with sticks. About the neck of each dog he had fastened a leather - thong. To this, and so close to the neck that the dog could not get - his teeth to it, he had tied a stout stick four or five feet in - length. The other end of the stick, in turn, was made fast to a - stake in the ground by means of a leather thong. The dog was unable - to gnaw through the leather at his own end of the stick. The stick - prevented him from getting at the leather that fastened the other - end. -

-

Henry nodded his head approvingly.

-

- “It’s the only contraption that’ll ever hold One Ear,” he said. “He - can gnaw through leather as clean as a knife an’ jes’ about half as - quick. They all’ll be here in the mornin’ hunkydory.” -

-

- “You jes’ bet they will,” Bill affirmed. “If one of em’ turns up - missin’, I’ll go without my coffee.” -

-

- “They jes’ know we ain’t loaded to kill,” Henry remarked at - bed-time, indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed them in. “If we - could put a couple of shots into ’em, they’d be more respectful. - They come closer every night. Get the firelight out of your eyes an’ - look hard—there! Did you see that one?” -

-

- For some time the two men amused themselves with watching the - movement of vague forms on the edge of the firelight. By looking - closely and steadily at where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness, - the form of the animal would slowly take shape. They could even see - these forms move at times. -

-

- A sound among the dogs attracted the men’s attention. One Ear was - uttering quick, eager whines, lunging at the length of his stick - toward the darkness, and desisting now and again in order to make - frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth. -

-

“Look at that, Bill,” Henry whispered.

-

- Full into the firelight, with a stealthy, sidelong movement, glided - a doglike animal. It moved with commingled mistrust and daring, - cautiously observing the men, its attention fixed on the dogs. One - Ear strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder and - whined with eagerness. -

-

- “That fool One Ear don’t seem scairt much,” Bill said in a low tone. -

-

- “It’s a she-wolf,” Henry whispered back, “an’ that accounts for - Fatty an’ Frog. She’s the decoy for the pack. She draws out the dog - an’ then all the rest pitches in an’ eats ’m up.” -

-

- The fire crackled. A log fell apart with a loud spluttering noise. - At the sound of it the strange animal leaped back into the darkness. -

-

“Henry, I’m a-thinkin’,” Bill announced.

-

“Thinkin’ what?”

-

“I’m a-thinkin’ that was the one I lambasted with the club.”

-

“Ain’t the slightest doubt in the world,” was Henry’s response.

-

- “An’ right here I want to remark,” Bill went on, “that that animal’s - familyarity with campfires is suspicious an’ immoral.” -

-

- “It knows for certain more’n a self-respectin’ wolf ought to know,” - Henry agreed. “A wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at - feedin’ time has had experiences.” -

-

- “Ol’ Villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves,” Bill - cogitates aloud. “I ought to know. I shot it out of the pack in a - moose pasture over ‘on Little Stick. An’ Ol’ Villan cried like a - baby. Hadn’t seen it for three years, he said. Ben with the wolves - all that time.” -

-

- “I reckon you’ve called the turn, Bill. That wolf’s a dog, an’ it’s - eaten fish many’s the time from the hand of man.” -

-

- “An if I get a chance at it, that wolf that’s a dog’ll be jes’ - meat,” Bill declared. “We can’t afford to lose no more animals.” -

-

“But you’ve only got three cartridges,” Henry objected.

-

“I’ll wait for a dead sure shot,” was the reply.

-

- In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the - accompaniment of his partner’s snoring. -

-

- “You was sleepin’ jes’ too comfortable for anything,” Henry told - him, as he routed him out for breakfast. “I hadn’t the heart to - rouse you.” -

-

- Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty and - started to reach for the pot. But the pot was beyond arm’s length - and beside Henry. -

-

“Say, Henry,” he chided gently, “ain’t you forgot somethin’?”

-

- Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. Bill - held up the empty cup. -

-

“You don’t get no coffee,” Henry announced.

-

“Ain’t run out?” Bill asked anxiously.

-

“Nope.”

-

“Ain’t thinkin’ it’ll hurt my digestion?”

-

“Nope.”

-

A flush of angry blood pervaded Bill’s face.

-

- “Then it’s jes’ warm an’ anxious I am to be hearin’ you explain - yourself,” he said. -

-

“Spanker’s gone,” Henry answered.

-

- Without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune Bill - turned his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs. -

-

“How’d it happen?” he asked apathetically.

-

- Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Unless One Ear gnawed ’m - loose. He couldn’t a-done it himself, that’s sure.” -

-

- “The darned cuss.” Bill spoke gravely and slowly, with no hint of - the anger that was raging within. “Jes’ because he couldn’t chew - himself loose, he chews Spanker loose.” -

-

- “Well, Spanker’s troubles is over anyway; I guess he’s digested by - this time an’ cavortin’ over the landscape in the bellies of twenty - different wolves,” was Henry’s epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. - “Have some coffee, Bill.” -

-

But Bill shook his head.

-

“Go on,” Henry pleaded, elevating the pot.

-

- Bill shoved his cup aside. “I’ll be ding-dong-danged if I do. I said - I wouldn’t if ary dog turned up missin’, an’ I won’t.” -

-

“It’s darn good coffee,” Henry said enticingly.

-

- But Bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with - mumbled curses at One Ear for the trick he had played. -

-

- “I’ll tie ’em up out of reach of each other to-night,” Bill said, as - they took the trail. -

-

- They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, who - was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his - snowshoe had collided. It was dark, and he could not see it, but he - recognised it by the touch. He flung it back, so that it struck the - sled and bounced along until it fetched up on Bill’s snowshoes. -

-

“Mebbe you’ll need that in your business,” Henry said.

-

- Bill uttered an exclamation. It was all that was left of Spanker—the - stick with which he had been tied. -

-

- “They ate ’m hide an’ all,” Bill announced. “The stick’s as clean as - a whistle. They’ve ate the leather offen both ends. They’re damn - hungry, Henry, an’ they’ll have you an’ me guessin’ before this - trip’s over.” -

-

- Henry laughed defiantly. “I ain’t been trailed this way by wolves - before, but I’ve gone through a whole lot worse an’ kept my health. - Takes more’n a handful of them pesky critters to do for yours truly, - Bill, my son.” -

-

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bill muttered ominously.

-

“Well, you’ll know all right when we pull into McGurry.”

-

“I ain’t feelin’ special enthusiastic,” Bill persisted.

-

- “You’re off colour, that’s what’s the matter with you,” Henry - dogmatised. “What you need is quinine, an’ I’m goin’ to dose you up - stiff as soon as we make McGurry.” -

-

- Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into - silence. The day was like all the days. Light came at nine o’clock. - At twelve o’clock the southern horizon was warmed by the unseen sun; - and then began the cold grey of afternoon that would merge, three - hours later, into night. -

-

- It was just after the sun’s futile effort to appear, that Bill - slipped the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said: -

-

“You keep right on, Henry, I’m goin’ to see what I can see.”

-

- “You’d better stick by the sled,” his partner protested. “You’ve - only got three cartridges, an’ there’s no tellin’ what might - happen.” -

-

“Who’s croaking now?” Bill demanded triumphantly.

-

- Henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast - anxious glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had - disappeared. An hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs around - which the sled had to go, Bill arrived. -

-

- “They’re scattered an’ rangin’ along wide,” he said: “keeping up - with us an’ lookin’ for game at the same time. You see, they’re sure - of us, only they know they’ve got to wait to get us. In the meantime - they’re willin’ to pick up anything eatable that comes handy.” -

-

- “You mean they think they’re sure of us,” Henry objected - pointedly. -

-

- But Bill ignored him. “I seen some of them. They’re pretty thin. - They ain’t had a bite in weeks I reckon, outside of Fatty an’ Frog - an’ Spanker; an’ there’s so many of ’em that that didn’t go far. - They’re remarkable thin. Their ribs is like wash-boards, an’ their - stomachs is right up against their backbones. They’re pretty - desperate, I can tell you. They’ll be goin’ mad, yet, an’ then watch - out.” -

-

- A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, - emitted a low, warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then quietly - stopped the dogs. To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly - into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, - slinking form. Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a - peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. When they halted, it halted, - throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that - twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them. -

-

“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill answered.

-

- The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join - his partner in the sled. Together they watched the strange animal - that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the - destruction of half their dog-team. -

-

- After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. - This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards - away. It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with - sight and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. It looked at - them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in - its wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. It was a - wistfulness bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless - as the frost itself. -

-

- It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an - animal that was among the largest of its kind. -

-

- “Stands pretty close to two feet an’ a half at the shoulders,” Henry - commented. “An’ I’ll bet it ain’t far from five feet long.” -

-

- “Kind of strange colour for a wolf,” was Bill’s criticism. “I never - seen a red wolf before. Looks almost cinnamon to me.” -

-

- The animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. Its coat was the - true wolf-coat. The dominant colour was grey, and yet there was to - it a faint reddish hue—a hue that was baffling, that appeared and - disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, - distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague - redness of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience. -

-

- “Looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog,” Bill said. “I - wouldn’t be s’prised to see it wag its tail.” -

-

- “Hello, you husky!” he called. “Come here, you - whatever-your-name-is.” -

-

“Ain’t a bit scairt of you,” Henry laughed.

-

- Bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly; but the - animal betrayed no fear. The only change in it that they could - notice was an accession of alertness. It still regarded them with - the merciless wistfulness of hunger. They were meat, and it was - hungry; and it would like to go in and eat them if it dared. -

-

- “Look here, Henry,” Bill said, unconsciously lowering his voice to a - whisper because of what he imitated. “We’ve got three cartridges. - But it’s a dead shot. Couldn’t miss it. It’s got away with three of - our dogs, an’ we oughter put a stop to it. What d’ye say?” -

-

- Henry nodded his consent. Bill cautiously slipped the gun from under - the sled-lashing. The gun was on the way to his shoulder, but it - never got there. For in that instant the she-wolf leaped sidewise - from the trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared. -

-

- The two men looked at each other. Henry whistled long and - comprehendingly. -

-

- “I might have knowed it,” Bill chided himself aloud as he replaced - the gun. “Of course a wolf that knows enough to come in with the - dogs at feedin’ time, ’d know all about shooting-irons. I tell you - right now, Henry, that critter’s the cause of all our trouble. We’d - have six dogs at the present time, ’stead of three, if it wasn’t for - her. An’ I tell you right now, Henry, I’m goin’ to get her. She’s - too smart to be shot in the open. But I’m goin’ to lay for her. I’ll - bushwhack her as sure as my name is Bill.” -

-

- “You needn’t stray off too far in doin’ it,” his partner admonished. - “If that pack ever starts to jump you, them three cartridges’d be - wuth no more’n three whoops in hell. Them animals is damn hungry, - an’ once they start in, they’ll sure get you, Bill.” -

-

- They camped early that night. Three dogs could not drag the sled so - fast nor for so long hours as could six, and they were showing - unmistakable signs of playing out. And the men went early to bed, - Bill first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach - of one another. -

-

- But the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more - than once from their sleep. So near did the wolves approach, that - the dogs became frantic with terror, and it was necessary to - replenish the fire from time to time in order to keep the - adventurous marauders at safer distance. -

-

- “I’ve hearn sailors talk of sharks followin’ a ship,” Bill remarked, - as he crawled back into the blankets after one such replenishing of - the fire. “Well, them wolves is land sharks. They know their - business better’n we do, an’ they ain’t a-holdin’ our trail this way - for their health. They’re goin’ to get us. They’re sure goin’ to get - us, Henry.” -

-

- “They’ve half got you a’ready, a-talkin’ like that,” Henry retorted - sharply. “A man’s half licked when he says he is. An’ you’re half - eaten from the way you’re goin’ on about it.” -

-

- “They’ve got away with better men than you an’ me,” Bill answered. -

-

“Oh, shet up your croakin’. You make me all-fired tired.”

-

- Henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that Bill - made no similar display of temper. This was not Bill’s way, for he - was easily angered by sharp words. Henry thought long over it before - he went to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down and he dozed - off, the thought in his mind was: “There’s no mistakin’ it, Bill’s - almighty blue. I’ll have to cheer him up to-morrow.” -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIIThe Hunger Cry -

-

- The day began auspiciously. They had lost no dogs during the night, - and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the - darkness, and the cold with spirits that were fairly light. Bill - seemed to have forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and - even waxed facetious with the dogs when, at midday, they overturned - the sled on a bad piece of trail. -

-

- It was an awkward mix-up. The sled was upside down and jammed - between a tree-trunk and a huge rock, and they were forced to - unharness the dogs in order to straighten out the tangle. The two - men were bent over the sled and trying to right it, when Henry - observed One Ear sidling away. -

-

- “Here, you, One Ear!” he cried, straightening up and turning around - on the dog. -

-

- But One Ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing - behind him. And there, out in the snow of their back track, was the - she-wolf waiting for him. As he neared her, he became suddenly - cautious. He slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then - stopped. He regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. - She seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating - rather than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few steps, - playfully, and then halted. One Ear drew near to her, still alert - and cautious, his tail and ears in the air, his head held high. -

-

- He tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and - coyly. Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding - retreat on her part. Step by step she was luring him away from the - security of his human companionship. Once, as though a warning had - in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head - and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at - the two men who were calling to him. -

-

- But whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the - she-wolf, who advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him for a - fleeting instant, and then resumed her coy retreat before his - renewed advances. -

-

- In the meantime, Bill had bethought himself of the rifle. But it was - jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time Henry had helped - him to right the load, One Ear and the she-wolf were too close - together and the distance too great to risk a shot. -

-

- Too late One Ear learned his mistake. Before they saw the cause, the - two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. Then, - approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat - they saw a dozen wolves, lean and grey, bounding across the snow. On - the instant, the she-wolf’s coyness and playfulness disappeared. - With a snarl she sprang upon One Ear. He thrust her off with his - shoulder, and, his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the - sled, he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it. - More wolves were appearing every moment and joining in the chase. - The she-wolf was one leap behind One Ear and holding her own. -

-

- “Where are you goin’?” Henry suddenly demanded, laying his hand on - his partner’s arm. -

-

- Bill shook it off. “I won’t stand it,” he said. “They ain’t a-goin’ - to get any more of our dogs if I can help it.” -

-

- Gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of - the trail. His intention was apparent enough. Taking the sled as the - centre of the circle that One Ear was making, Bill planned to tap - that circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. With his rifle, in - the broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe the wolves - and save the dog. -

-

- “Say, Bill!” Henry called after him. “Be careful! Don’t take no - chances!” -

-

- Henry sat down on the sled and watched. There was nothing else for - him to do. Bill had already gone from sight; but now and again, - appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered - clumps of spruce, could be seen One Ear. Henry judged his case to be - hopeless. The dog was thoroughly alive to its danger, but it was - running on the outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on the - inner and shorter circle. It was vain to think of One Ear so - outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle - in advance of them and to regain the sled. -

-

- The different lines were rapidly approaching a point. Somewhere out - there in the snow, screened from his sight by trees and thickets, - Henry knew that the wolf-pack, One Ear, and Bill were coming - together. All too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it - happened. He heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and - he knew that Bill’s ammunition was gone. Then he heard a great - outcry of snarls and yelps. He recognised One Ear’s yell of pain and - terror, and he heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. And - that was all. The snarls ceased. The yelping died away. Silence - settled down again over the lonely land. -

-

- He sat for a long while upon the sled. There was no need for him to - go and see what had happened. He knew it as though it had taken - place before his eyes. Once, he roused with a start and hastily got - the axe out from underneath the lashings. But for some time longer - he sat and brooded, the two remaining dogs crouching and trembling - at his feet. -

-

- At last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience had - gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. - He passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace, and pulled with the - dogs. He did not go far. At the first hint of darkness he hastened - to make a camp, and he saw to it that he had a generous supply of - firewood. He fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made his - bed close to the fire. -

-

- But he was not destined to enjoy that bed. Before his eyes closed - the wolves had drawn too near for safety. It no longer required an - effort of the vision to see them. They were all about him and the - fire, in a narrow circle, and he could see them plainly in the - firelight lying down, sitting up, crawling forward on their bellies, - or slinking back and forth. They even slept. Here and there he could - see one curled up in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep that was - now denied himself. -

-

- He kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone - intervened between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. His - two dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against - him for protection, crying and whimpering, and at times snarling - desperately when a wolf approached a little closer than usual. At - such moments, when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be - agitated, the wolves coming to their feet and pressing tentatively - forward, a chorus of snarls and eager yelps rising about him. Then - the circle would lie down again, and here and there a wolf would - resume its broken nap. -

-

- But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. Bit - by bit, an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and - there a wolf bellying forward, the circle would narrow until the - brutes were almost within springing distance. Then he would seize - brands from the fire and hurl them into the pack. A hasty drawing - back always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened - snarls when a well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring - animal. -

-

- Morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of - sleep. He cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o’clock, - when, with the coming of daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set - about the task he had planned through the long hours of the night. - Chopping down young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold - by lashing them high up to the trunks of standing trees. Using the - sled-lashing for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs, he - hoisted the coffin to the top of the scaffold. -

-

- “They got Bill, an’ they may get me, but they’ll sure never get you, - young man,” he said, addressing the dead body in its tree-sepulchre. -

-

- Then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind the - willing dogs; for they, too, knew that safety lay open in the - gaining of Fort McGurry. The wolves were now more open in their - pursuit, trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, - their red tongues lolling out, their lean sides showing the - undulating ribs with every movement. They were very lean, mere - skin-bags stretched over bony frames, with strings for muscles—so - lean that Henry found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept - their feet and did not collapse forthright in the snow. -

-

- He did not dare travel until dark. At midday, not only did the sun - warm the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim, pale - and golden, above the sky-line. He received it as a sign. The days - were growing longer. The sun was returning. But scarcely had the - cheer of its light departed, than he went into camp. There were - still several hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight, and he - utilised them in chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood. -

-

- With night came horror. Not only were the starving wolves growing - bolder, but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite - himself, crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, - the axe between his knees, and on either side a dog pressing close - against him. He awoke once and saw in front of him, not a dozen feet - away, a big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And even as - he looked, the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner - of a lazy dog, yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a - possessive eye, as if, in truth, he were merely a delayed meal that - was soon to be eaten. -

-

- This certitude was shown by the whole pack. Fully a score he could - count, staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow. They - reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting - permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat! He - wondered how and when the meal would begin. -

-

- As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his - own body which he had never felt before. He watched his moving - muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers. - By the light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and - repeatedly now one at a time, now all together, spreading them wide - or making quick gripping movements. He studied the nail-formation, - and prodded the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging - the while the nerve-sensations produced. It fascinated him, and he - grew suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so - beautifully and smoothly and delicately. Then he would cast a glance - of fear at the wolf-circle drawn expectantly about him, and like a - blow the realisation would strike him that this wonderful body of - his, this living flesh, was no more than so much meat, a quest of - ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed by their hungry fangs, to - be sustenance to them as the moose and the rabbit had often been - sustenance to him. -

-

- He came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued - she-wolf before him. She was not more than half a dozen feet away - sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him. The two dogs were - whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of them. - She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned her look. - There was nothing threatening about her. She looked at him merely - with a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the wistfulness of an - equally great hunger. He was the food, and the sight of him excited - in her the gustatory sensations. Her mouth opened, the saliva - drooled forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure of - anticipation. -

-

- A spasm of fear went through him. He reached hastily for a brand to - throw at her. But even as he reached, and before his fingers had - closed on the missile, she sprang back into safety; and he knew that - she was used to having things thrown at her. She had snarled as she - sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots, all her - wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity - that made him shudder. He glanced at the hand that held the brand, - noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it, how - they adjusted themselves to all the inequalities of the surface, - curling over and under and about the rough wood, and one little - finger, too close to the burning portion of the brand, sensitively - and automatically writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler - gripping-place; and in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of - those same sensitive and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by - the white teeth of the she-wolf. Never had he been so fond of this - body of his as now when his tenure of it was so precarious. -

-

- All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. When - he dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of the dogs - aroused him. Morning came, but for the first time the light of day - failed to scatter the wolves. The man waited in vain for them to go. - They remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying an - arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the morning - light. -

-

- He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail. But the - moment he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped - for him, but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back, the - jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh. The rest - of the pack was now up and surging upon him, and a throwing of - firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to a - respectful distance. -

-

- Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh - wood. Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce. He spent half the - day extending his campfire to the tree, at any moment a half dozen - burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. Once at the - tree, he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the tree in - the direction of the most firewood. -

-

- The night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need - for sleep was becoming overpowering. The snarling of his dogs was - losing its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time, and - his benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch - and intensity. He awoke with a start. The she-wolf was less than a - yard from him. Mechanically, at short range, without letting go of - it, he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. She - sprang away, yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the - smell of burning flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and - growling wrathfully a score of feet away. -

-

- But this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot to - his right hand. His eyes were closed but few minutes when the burn - of the flame on his flesh awakened him. For several hours he adhered - to this programme. Every time he was thus awakened he drove back the - wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and rearranged the - pine-knot on his hand. All worked well, but there came a time when - he fastened the pine-knot insecurely. As his eyes closed it fell - away from his hand. -

-

- He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. It was - warm and comfortable, and he was playing cribbage with the Factor. - Also, it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They - were howling at the very gates, and sometimes he and the Factor - paused from the game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of - the wolves to get in. And then, so strange was the dream, there was - a crash. The door was burst open. He could see the wolves flooding - into the big living-room of the fort. They were leaping straight for - him and the Factor. With the bursting open of the door, the noise of - their howling had increased tremendously. This howling now bothered - him. His dream was merging into something else—he knew not what; but - through it all, following him, persisted the howling. -

-

- And then he awoke to find the howling real. There was a great - snarling and yelping. The wolves were rushing him. They were all - about him and upon him. The teeth of one had closed upon his arm. - Instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, he felt the - sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. Then - began a fire fight. His stout mittens temporarily protected his - hands, and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions, - until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano. -

-

- But it could not last long. His face was blistering in the heat, his - eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming - unbearable to his feet. With a flaming brand in each hand, he sprang - to the edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back. On every - side, wherever the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, and - every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and - snarl, announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon. -

-

- Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust - his smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his - feet. His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had - served as a course in the protracted meal which had begun days - before with Fatty, the last course of which would likely be himself - in the days to follow. -

-

- “You ain’t got me yet!” he cried, savagely shaking his fist at the - hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was - agitated, there was a general snarl, and the she-wolf slid up close - to him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness. -

-

- He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him. He - extended the fire into a large circle. Inside this circle he - crouched, his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the - melting snow. When he had thus disappeared within his shelter of - flame, the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see - what had become of him. Hitherto they had been denied access to the - fire, and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so - many dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in - the unaccustomed warmth. Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her - nose at a star, and began to howl. One by one the wolves joined her, - till the whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was - howling its hunger cry. -

-

- Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The fuel had run - out, and there was need to get more. The man attempted to step out - of his circle of flame, but the wolves surged to meet him. Burning - brands made them spring aside, but they no longer sprang back. In - vain he strove to drive them back. As he gave up and stumbled inside - his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all four - feet in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same time - snarling, and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow. -

-

- The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. His body - leaned forward from the hips. His shoulders, relaxed and drooping, - and his head on his knees advertised that he had given up the - struggle. Now and again he raised his head to note the dying down of - the fire. The circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments - with openings in between. These openings grew in size, the segments - diminished. -

-

- “I guess you can come an’ get me any time,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I’m - goin’ to sleep.” -

-

- Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front - of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him. -

-

- Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. A - mysterious change had taken place—so mysterious a change that he was - shocked wider awake. Something had happened. He could not understand - at first. Then he discovered it. The wolves were gone. Remained only - the trampled snow to show how closely they had pressed him. Sleep - was welling up and gripping him again, his head was sinking down - upon his knees, when he roused with a sudden start. -

-

- There were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of - harnesses, and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. Four sleds - pulled in from the river bed to the camp among the trees. Half a - dozen men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying - fire. They were shaking and prodding him into consciousness. He - looked at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy - speech. -

-

- “Red she-wolf. . . . Come in with the dogs at feedin’ time. . . . - First she ate the dog-food. . . . Then she ate the dogs. . . . An’ - after that she ate Bill. . . . ” -

-

- “Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men bellowed in his ear, shaking - him roughly. -

-

- He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him. . . . He’s - roostin’ in a tree at the last camp.” -

-

“Dead?” the man shouted.

-

- “An’ in a box,” Henry answered. He jerked his shoulder petulantly - away from the grip of his questioner. “Say, you lemme alone. . . . - I’m jes’ plump tuckered out. . . . Goo’ night, everybody.” -

-

- His eyes fluttered and went shut. His chin fell forward on his - chest. And even as they eased him down upon the blankets his snores - were rising on the frosty air. -

-

- But there was another sound. Far and faint it was, in the remote - distance, the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of - other meat than the man it had just missed. -

-
-
-
-

Part II

-
-

- Chapter IThe Battle of the Fangs -

-

- It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s voices - and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who was - first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying - flame. The pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted - down, and it lingered for several minutes, making sure of the - sounds, and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the - she-wolf. -

-

- Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one of - its several leaders. It was he who directed the pack’s course on the - heels of the she-wolf. It was he who snarled warningly at the - younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs when - they ambitiously tried to pass him. And it was he who increased the - pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the - snow. -

-

- She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed - position, and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, - nor show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in - advance of him. On the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward - her—too kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and - when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. - Nor was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such - times he betrayed no anger. He merely sprang to the side and ran - stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct - resembling an abashed country swain. -

-

- This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had - other troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and - marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her right - side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye, might - account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering - toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or - neck. As with the running mate on the left, she repelled these - attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their attentions - at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, with - quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the - same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way - of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed - their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They - might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the - more pressing hunger-need of the pack. -

-

- After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the - sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young - three-year-old that ran on his blind right side. This young wolf had - attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished - condition of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and - spirit. Nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of - his one-eyed elder. When he ventured to run abreast of the older - wolf (which was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with - the shoulder again. Sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and - slowly behind and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. - This was doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her - displeasure, the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. - Sometimes she whirled with him. And sometimes the young leader on - the left whirled, too. -

-

- At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young - wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, - with fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. This - confusion in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in - the rear. The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and - expressed their displeasure by administering sharp nips on his - hind-legs and flanks. He was laying up trouble for himself, for lack - of food and short tempers went together; but with the boundless - faith of youth he persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little - while, though it never succeeded in gaining anything for him but - discomfiture. -

-

- Had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on - apace, and the pack-formation would have been broken up. But the - situation of the pack was desperate. It was lean with long-standing - hunger. It ran below its ordinary speed. At the rear limped the weak - members, the very young and the very old. At the front were the - strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied wolves. - Nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped, the - movements of the animals were effortless and tireless. Their stringy - muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy. Behind every - steel-like contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like - contraction, and another, and another, apparently without end. -

-

- They ran many miles that day. They ran through the night. And the - next day found them still running. They were running over the - surface of a world frozen and dead. No life stirred. They alone - moved through the vast inertness. They alone were alive, and they - sought for other things that were alive in order that they might - devour them and continue to live. -

-

- They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a - lower-lying country before their quest was rewarded. Then they came - upon moose. It was a big bull they first found. Here was meat and - life, and it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles - of flame. Splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew, and they flung - their customary patience and caution to the wind. It was a brief - fight and fierce. The big bull was beset on every side. He ripped - them open or split their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his - great hoofs. He crushed them and broke them on his large horns. He - stamped them into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. But - he was foredoomed, and he went down with the she-wolf tearing - savagely at his throat, and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon - him, devouring him alive, before ever his last struggles ceased or - his last damage had been wrought. -

-

- There was food in plenty. The bull weighed over eight hundred - pounds—fully twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the forty-odd - wolves of the pack. But if they could fast prodigiously, they could - feed prodigiously, and soon a few scattered bones were all that - remained of the splendid live brute that had faced the pack a few - hours before. -

-

- There was now much resting and sleeping. With full stomachs, - bickering and quarrelling began among the younger males, and this - continued through the few days that followed before the breaking-up - of the pack. The famine was over. The wolves were now in the country - of game, and though they still hunted in pack, they hunted more - cautiously, cutting out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from the - small moose-herds they ran across. -

-

- There came a day, in this land of plenty, when the wolf-pack split - in half and went in different directions. The she-wolf, the young - leader on her left, and the one-eyed elder on her right, led their - half of the pack down to the Mackenzie River and across into the - lake country to the east. Each day this remnant of the pack - dwindled. Two by two, male and female, the wolves were deserting. - Occasionally a solitary male was driven out by the sharp teeth of - his rivals. In the end there remained only four: the she-wolf, the - young leader, the one-eyed one, and the ambitious three-year-old. -

-

- The she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. Her three - suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. Yet they never replied in - kind, never defended themselves against her. They turned their - shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and - mincing steps strove to placate her wrath. But if they were all - mildness toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. - The three-year-old grew too ambitious in his fierceness. He caught - the one-eyed elder on his blind side and ripped his ear into - ribbons. Though the grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, - against the youth and vigour of the other he brought into play the - wisdom of long years of experience. His lost eye and his scarred - muzzle bore evidence to the nature of his experience. He had - survived too many battles to be in doubt for a moment about what to - do. -

-

- The battle began fairly, but it did not end fairly. There was no - telling what the outcome would have been, for the third wolf joined - the elder, and together, old leader and young leader, they attacked - the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to destroy him. He was - beset on either side by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile - comrades. Forgotten were the days they had hunted together, the game - they had pulled down, the famine they had suffered. That business - was a thing of the past. The business of love was at hand—ever a - sterner and crueller business than that of food-getting. -

-

- And in the meanwhile, the she-wolf, the cause of it all, sat down - contentedly on her haunches and watched. She was even pleased. This - was her day—and it came not often—when manes bristled, and fang - smote fang or ripped and tore the yielding flesh, all for the - possession of her. -

-

- And in the business of love the three-year-old, who had made this - his first adventure upon it, yielded up his life. On either side of - his body stood his two rivals. They were gazing at the she-wolf, who - sat smiling in the snow. But the elder leader was wise, very wise, - in love even as in battle. The younger leader turned his head to - lick a wound on his shoulder. The curve of his neck was turned - toward his rival. With his one eye the elder saw the opportunity. He - darted in low and closed with his fangs. It was a long, ripping - slash, and deep as well. His teeth, in passing, burst the wall of - the great vein of the throat. Then he leaped clear. -

-

- The young leader snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into - a tickling cough. Bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he sprang - at the elder and fought while life faded from him, his legs going - weak beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows - and springs falling shorter and shorter. -

-

- And all the while the she-wolf sat on her haunches and smiled. She - was made glad in vague ways by the battle, for this was the - love-making of the Wild, the sex-tragedy of the natural world that - was tragedy only to those that died. To those that survived it was - not tragedy, but realisation and achievement. -

-

- When the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more, One Eye - stalked over to the she-wolf. His carriage was one of mingled - triumph and caution. He was plainly expectant of a rebuff, and he - was just as plainly surprised when her teeth did not flash out at - him in anger. For the first time she met him with a kindly manner. - She sniffed noses with him, and even condescended to leap about and - frisk and play with him in quite puppyish fashion. And he, for all - his grey years and sage experience, behaved quite as puppyishly and - even a little more foolishly. -

-

- Forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the love-tale - red-written on the snow. Forgotten, save once, when old One Eye - stopped for a moment to lick his stiffening wounds. Then it was that - his lips half writhed into a snarl, and the hair of his neck and - shoulders involuntarily bristled, while he half crouched for a - spring, his claws spasmodically clutching into the snow-surface for - firmer footing. But it was all forgotten the next moment, as he - sprang after the she-wolf, who was coyly leading him a chase through - the woods. -

-

- After that they ran side by side, like good friends who have come to - an understanding. The days passed by, and they kept together, - hunting their meat and killing and eating it in common. After a time - the she-wolf began to grow restless. She seemed to be searching for - something that she could not find. The hollows under fallen trees - seemed to attract her, and she spent much time nosing about among - the larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of - overhanging banks. Old One Eye was not interested at all, but he - followed her good-naturedly in her quest, and when her - investigations in particular places were unusually protracted, he - would lie down and wait until she was ready to go on. -

-

- They did not remain in one place, but travelled across country until - they regained the Mackenzie River, down which they slowly went, - leaving it often to hunt game along the small streams that entered - it, but always returning to it again. Sometimes they chanced upon - other wolves, usually in pairs; but there was no friendliness of - intercourse displayed on either side, no gladness at meeting, no - desire to return to the pack-formation. Several times they - encountered solitary wolves. These were always males, and they were - pressingly insistent on joining with One Eye and his mate. This he - resented, and when she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, - bristling and showing her teeth, the aspiring solitary ones would - back off, turn-tail, and continue on their lonely way. -

-

- One moonlight night, running through the quiet forest, One Eye - suddenly halted. His muzzle went up, his tail stiffened, and his - nostrils dilated as he scented the air. One foot also he held up, - after the manner of a dog. He was not satisfied, and he continued to - smell the air, striving to understand the message borne upon it to - him. One careless sniff had satisfied his mate, and she trotted on - to reassure him. Though he followed her, he was still dubious, and - he could not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to - study the warning. -

-

- She crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the - midst of the trees. For some time she stood alone. Then One Eye, - creeping and crawling, every sense on the alert, every hair - radiating infinite suspicion, joined her. They stood side by side, - watching and listening and smelling. -

-

- To their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling, the - guttural cries of men, the sharper voices of scolding women, and - once the shrill and plaintive cry of a child. With the exception of - the huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the - flames of the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, - and the smoke rising slowly on the quiet air. But to their nostrils - came the myriad smells of an Indian camp, carrying a story that was - largely incomprehensible to One Eye, but every detail of which the - she-wolf knew. -

-

- She was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an - increasing delight. But old One Eye was doubtful. He betrayed his - apprehension, and started tentatively to go. She turned and touched - his neck with her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp - again. A new wistfulness was in her face, but it was not the - wistfulness of hunger. She was thrilling to a desire that urged her - to go forward, to be in closer to that fire, to be squabbling with - the dogs, and to be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men. -

-

- One Eye moved impatiently beside her; her unrest came back upon her, - and she knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she - searched. She turned and trotted back into the forest, to the great - relief of One Eye, who trotted a little to the fore until they were - well within the shelter of the trees. -

-

- As they slid along, noiseless as shadows, in the moonlight, they - came upon a run-way. Both noses went down to the footprints in the - snow. These footprints were very fresh. One Eye ran ahead - cautiously, his mate at his heels. The broad pads of their feet were - spread wide and in contact with the snow were like velvet. One Eye - caught sight of a dim movement of white in the midst of the white. - His sliding gait had been deceptively swift, but it was as nothing - to the speed at which he now ran. Before him was bounding the faint - patch of white he had discovered. -

-

- They were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by a - growth of young spruce. Through the trees the mouth of the alley - could be seen, opening out on a moonlit glade. Old One Eye was - rapidly overhauling the fleeing shape of white. Bound by bound he - gained. Now he was upon it. One leap more and his teeth would be - sinking into it. But that leap was never made. High in the air, and - straight up, soared the shape of white, now a struggling snowshoe - rabbit that leaped and bounded, executing a fantastic dance there - above him in the air and never once returning to earth. -

-

- One Eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright, then shrank down - to the snow and crouched, snarling threats at this thing of fear he - did not understand. But the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. She - poised for a moment, then sprang for the dancing rabbit. She, too, - soared high, but not so high as the quarry, and her teeth clipped - emptily together with a metallic snap. She made another leap, and - another. -

-

- Her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her. He - now evinced displeasure at her repeated failures, and himself made a - mighty spring upward. His teeth closed upon the rabbit, and he bore - it back to earth with him. But at the same time there was a - suspicious crackling movement beside him, and his astonished eye saw - a young spruce sapling bending down above him to strike him. His - jaws let go their grip, and he leaped backward to escape this - strange danger, his lips drawn back from his fangs, his throat - snarling, every hair bristling with rage and fright. And in that - moment the sapling reared its slender length upright and the rabbit - soared dancing in the air again. -

-

- The she-wolf was angry. She sank her fangs into her mate’s shoulder - in reproof; and he, frightened, unaware of what constituted this new - onslaught, struck back ferociously and in still greater fright, - ripping down the side of the she-wolf’s muzzle. For him to resent - such reproof was equally unexpected to her, and she sprang upon him - in snarling indignation. Then he discovered his mistake and tried to - placate her. But she proceeded to punish him roundly, until he gave - over all attempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, his head - away from her, his shoulders receiving the punishment of her teeth. -

-

- In the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air. The - she-wolf sat down in the snow, and old One Eye, now more in fear of - his mate than of the mysterious sapling, again sprang for the - rabbit. As he sank back with it between his teeth, he kept his eye - on the sapling. As before, it followed him back to earth. He - crouched down under the impending blow, his hair bristling, but his - teeth still keeping tight hold of the rabbit. But the blow did not - fall. The sapling remained bent above him. When he moved it moved, - and he growled at it through his clenched jaws; when he remained - still, it remained still, and he concluded it was safer to continue - remaining still. Yet the warm blood of the rabbit tasted good in his - mouth. -

-

- It was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found - himself. She took the rabbit from him, and while the sapling swayed - and teetered threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the - rabbit’s head. At once the sapling shot up, and after that gave no - more trouble, remaining in the decorous and perpendicular position - in which nature had intended it to grow. Then, between them, the - she-wolf and One Eye devoured the game which the mysterious sapling - had caught for them. -

-

- There were other run-ways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in - the air, and the wolf-pair prospected them all, the she-wolf leading - the way, old One Eye following and observant, learning the method of - robbing snares—a knowledge destined to stand him in good stead in - the days to come. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIThe Lair -

-

- For two days the she-wolf and One Eye hung about the Indian camp. He - was worried and apprehensive, yet the camp lured his mate and she - was loath to depart. But when, one morning, the air was rent with - the report of a rifle close at hand, and a bullet smashed against a - tree trunk several inches from One Eye’s head, they hesitated no - more, but went off on a long, swinging lope that put quick miles - between them and the danger. -

-

- They did not go far—a couple of days’ journey. The she-wolf’s need - to find the thing for which she searched had now become imperative. - She was getting very heavy, and could run but slowly. Once, in the - pursuit of a rabbit, which she ordinarily would have caught with - ease, she gave over and lay down and rested. One Eye came to her; - but when he touched her neck gently with his muzzle she snapped at - him with such quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward and cut - a ridiculous figure in his effort to escape her teeth. Her temper - was now shorter than ever; but he had become more patient than ever - and more solicitous. -

-

- And then she found the thing for which she sought. It was a few - miles up a small stream that in the summer time flowed into the - Mackenzie, but that then was frozen over and frozen down to its - rocky bottom—a dead stream of solid white from source to mouth. The - she-wolf was trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when - she came upon the overhanging, high clay-bank. She turned aside and - trotted over to it. The wear and tear of spring storms and melting - snows had underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small - cave out of a narrow fissure. -

-

- She paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over - carefully. Then, on one side and the other, she ran along the base - of the wall to where its abrupt bulk merged from the softer-lined - landscape. Returning to the cave, she entered its narrow mouth. For - a short three feet she was compelled to crouch, then the walls - widened and rose higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet in - diameter. The roof barely cleared her head. It was dry and cosey. - She inspected it with painstaking care, while One Eye, who had - returned, stood in the entrance and patiently watched her. She - dropped her head, with her nose to the ground and directed toward a - point near to her closely bunched feet, and around this point she - circled several times; then, with a tired sigh that was almost a - grunt, she curled her body in, relaxed her legs, and dropped down, - her head toward the entrance. One Eye, with pointed, interested - ears, laughed at her, and beyond, outlined against the white light, - she could see the brush of his tail waving good-naturedly. Her own - ears, with a snuggling movement, laid their sharp points backward - and down against the head for a moment, while her mouth opened and - her tongue lolled peaceably out, and in this way she expressed that - she was pleased and satisfied. -

-

- One Eye was hungry. Though he lay down in the entrance and slept, - his sleep was fitful. He kept awaking and cocking his ears at the - bright world without, where the April sun was blazing across the - snow. When he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers of - hidden trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen - intently. The sun had come back, and all the awakening Northland - world was calling to him. Life was stirring. The feel of spring was - in the air, the feel of growing life under the snow, of sap - ascending in the trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the frost. -

-

- He cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to get - up. He looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered across - his field of vision. He started to get up, then looked back to his - mate again, and settled down and dozed. A shrill and minute singing - stole upon his hearing. Once, and twice, he sleepily brushed his - nose with his paw. Then he woke up. There, buzzing in the air at the - tip of his nose, was a lone mosquito. It was a full-grown mosquito, - one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter and that had now - been thawed out by the sun. He could resist the call of the world no - longer. Besides, he was hungry. -

-

- He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up. But - she only snarled at him, and he walked out alone into the bright - sunshine to find the snow-surface soft under foot and the travelling - difficult. He went up the frozen bed of the stream, where the snow, - shaded by the trees, was yet hard and crystalline. He was gone eight - hours, and he came back through the darkness hungrier than when he - had started. He had found game, but he had not caught it. He had - broken through the melting snow crust, and wallowed, while the - snowshoe rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever. -

-

- He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion. - Faint, strange sounds came from within. They were sounds not made by - his mate, and yet they were remotely familiar. He bellied cautiously - inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf. This he - received without perturbation, though he obeyed it by keeping his - distance; but he remained interested in the other sounds—faint, - muffled sobbings and slubberings. -

-

- His mate warned him irritably away, and he curled up and slept in - the entrance. When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair, - he again sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds. - There was a new note in his mate’s warning snarl. It was a jealous - note, and he was very careful in keeping a respectful distance. - Nevertheless, he made out, sheltering between her legs against the - length of her body, five strange little bundles of life, very - feeble, very helpless, making tiny whimpering noises, with eyes that - did not open to the light. He was surprised. It was not the first - time in his long and successful life that this thing had happened. - It had happened many times, yet each time it was as fresh a surprise - as ever to him. -

-

- His mate looked at him anxiously. Every little while she emitted a - low growl, and at times, when it seemed to her he approached too - near, the growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl. Of her own - experience she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her - instinct, which was the experience of all the mothers of wolves, - there lurked a memory of fathers that had eaten their new-born and - helpless progeny. It manifested itself as a fear strong within her, - that made her prevent One Eye from more closely inspecting the cubs - he had fathered. -

-

- But there was no danger. Old One Eye was feeling the urge of an - impulse, that was, in turn, an instinct that had come down to him - from all the fathers of wolves. He did not question it, nor puzzle - over it. It was there, in the fibre of his being; and it was the - most natural thing in the world that he should obey it by turning - his back on his new-born family and by trotting out and away on the - meat-trail whereby he lived. -

-

- Five or six miles from the lair, the stream divided, its forks going - off among the mountains at a right angle. Here, leading up the left - fork, he came upon a fresh track. He smelled it and found it so - recent that he crouched swiftly, and looked in the direction in - which it disappeared. Then he turned deliberately and took the right - fork. The footprint was much larger than the one his own feet made, - and he knew that in the wake of such a trail there was little meat - for him. -

-

- Half a mile up the right fork, his quick ears caught the sound of - gnawing teeth. He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine, - standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark. - One Eye approached carefully but hopelessly. He knew the breed, - though he had never met it so far north before; and never in his - long life had porcupine served him for a meal. But he had long since - learned that there was such a thing as Chance, or Opportunity, and - he continued to draw near. There was never any telling what might - happen, for with live things events were somehow always happening - differently. -

-

- The porcupine rolled itself into a ball, radiating long, sharp - needles in all directions that defied attack. In his youth One Eye - had once sniffed too near a similar, apparently inert ball of - quills, and had the tail flick out suddenly in his face. One quill - he had carried away in his muzzle, where it had remained for weeks, - a rankling flame, until it finally worked out. So he lay down, in a - comfortable crouching position, his nose fully a foot away, and out - of the line of the tail. Thus he waited, keeping perfectly quiet. - There was no telling. Something might happen. The porcupine might - unroll. There might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust of - paw into the tender, unguarded belly. -

-

- But at the end of half an hour he arose, growled wrathfully at the - motionless ball, and trotted on. He had waited too often and - futilely in the past for porcupines to unroll, to waste any more - time. He continued up the right fork. The day wore along, and - nothing rewarded his hunt. -

-

- The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him. - He must find meat. In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan. - He came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the - slow-witted bird. It was sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end - of his nose. Each saw the other. The bird made a startled rise, but - he struck it with his paw, and smashed it down to earth, then - pounced upon it, and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across - the snow trying to rise in the air again. As his teeth crunched - through the tender flesh and fragile bones, he began naturally to - eat. Then he remembered, and, turning on the back-track, started for - home, carrying the ptarmigan in his mouth. -

-

- A mile above the forks, running velvet-footed as was his custom, a - gliding shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the - trail, he came upon later imprints of the large tracks he had - discovered in the early morning. As the track led his way, he - followed, prepared to meet the maker of it at every turn of the - stream. -

-

- He slid his head around a corner of rock, where began an unusually - large bend in the stream, and his quick eyes made out something that - sent him crouching swiftly down. It was the maker of the track, a - large female lynx. She was crouching as he had crouched once that - day, in front of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. If he had been - a gliding shadow before, he now became the ghost of such a shadow, - as he crept and circled around, and came up well to leeward of the - silent, motionless pair. -

-

- He lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and - with eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he - watched the play of life before him—the waiting lynx and the waiting - porcupine, each intent on life; and, such was the curiousness of the - game, the way of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and - the way of life for the other lay in being not eaten. While old One - Eye, the wolf crouching in the covert, played his part, too, in the - game, waiting for some strange freak of Chance, that might help him - on the meat-trail which was his way of life. -

-

- Half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. The ball of - quills might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might have - been frozen to marble; and old One Eye might have been dead. Yet all - three animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was almost - painful, and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more alive - than they were then in their seeming petrifaction. -

-

- One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness. - Something was happening. The porcupine had at last decided that its - enemy had gone away. Slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling its ball - of impregnable armour. It was agitated by no tremor of anticipation. - Slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened out and lengthened. - One Eye watching, felt a sudden moistness in his mouth and a - drooling of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living meat that was - spreading itself like a repast before him. -

-

- Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered its - enemy. In that instant the lynx struck. The blow was like a flash of - light. The paw, with rigid claws curving like talons, shot under the - tender belly and came back with a swift ripping movement. Had the - porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it not discovered its enemy - a fraction of a second before the blow was struck, the paw would - have escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of the tail sank sharp - quills into it as it was withdrawn. -

-

- Everything had happened at once—the blow, the counter-blow, the - squeal of agony from the porcupine, the big cat’s squall of sudden - hurt and astonishment. One Eye half arose in his excitement, his - ears up, his tail straight out and quivering behind him. The lynx’s - bad temper got the best of her. She sprang savagely at the thing - that had hurt her. But the porcupine, squealing and grunting, with - disrupted anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its ball-protection, - flicked out its tail again, and again the big cat squalled with hurt - and astonishment. Then she fell to backing away and sneezing, her - nose bristling with quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. She brushed - her nose with her paws, trying to dislodge the fiery darts, thrust - it into the snow, and rubbed it against twigs and branches, and all - the time leaping about, ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy of - pain and fright. -

-

- She sneezed continually, and her stub of a tail was doing its best - toward lashing about by giving quick, violent jerks. She quit her - antics, and quieted down for a long minute. One Eye watched. And - even he could not repress a start and an involuntary bristling of - hair along his back when she suddenly leaped, without warning, - straight up in the air, at the same time emitting a long and most - terrible squall. Then she sprang away, up the trail, squalling with - every leap she made. -

-

- It was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died - out that One Eye ventured forth. He walked as delicately as though - all the snow were carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ready to - pierce the soft pads of his feet. The porcupine met his approach - with a furious squealing and a clashing of its long teeth. It had - managed to roll up in a ball again, but it was not quite the old - compact ball; its muscles were too much torn for that. It had been - ripped almost in half, and was still bleeding profusely. -

-

- One Eye scooped out mouthfuls of the blood-soaked snow, and chewed - and tasted and swallowed. This served as a relish, and his hunger - increased mightily; but he was too old in the world to forget his - caution. He waited. He lay down and waited, while the porcupine - grated its teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and occasional sharp - little squeals. In a little while, One Eye noticed that the quills - were drooping and that a great quivering had set up. The quivering - came to an end suddenly. There was a final defiant clash of the long - teeth. Then all the quills drooped quite down, and the body relaxed - and moved no more. -

-

- With a nervous, shrinking paw, One Eye stretched out the porcupine - to its full length and turned it over on its back. Nothing had - happened. It was surely dead. He studied it intently for a moment, - then took a careful grip with his teeth and started off down the - stream, partly carrying, partly dragging the porcupine, with head - turned to the side so as to avoid stepping on the prickly mass. He - recollected something, dropped the burden, and trotted back to where - he had left the ptarmigan. He did not hesitate a moment. He knew - clearly what was to be done, and this he did by promptly eating the - ptarmigan. Then he returned and took up his burden. -

-

- When he dragged the result of his day’s hunt into the cave, the - she-wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly licked - him on the neck. But the next instant she was warning him away from - the cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than usual and that was - more apologetic than menacing. Her instinctive fear of the father of - her progeny was toning down. He was behaving as a wolf-father - should, and manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young lives - she had brought into the world. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIIThe Grey Cub -

-

- He was different from his brothers and sisters. Their hair already - betrayed the reddish hue inherited from their mother, the she-wolf; - while he alone, in this particular, took after his father. He was - the one little grey cub of the litter. He had bred true to the - straight wolf-stock—in fact, he had bred true to old One Eye - himself, physically, with but a single exception, and that was he - had two eyes to his father’s one. -

-

- The grey cub’s eyes had not been open long, yet already he could see - with steady clearness. And while his eyes were still closed, he had - felt, tasted, and smelled. He knew his two brothers and his two - sisters very well. He had begun to romp with them in a feeble, - awkward way, and even to squabble, his little throat vibrating with - a queer rasping noise (the forerunner of the growl), as he worked - himself into a passion. And long before his eyes had opened he had - learned by touch, taste, and smell to know his mother—a fount of - warmth and liquid food and tenderness. She possessed a gentle, - caressing tongue that soothed him when it passed over his soft - little body, and that impelled him to snuggle close against her and - to doze off to sleep. -

-

- Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in - sleeping; but now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for - longer periods of time, and he was coming to learn his world quite - well. His world was gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no - other world. It was dim-lighted; but his eyes had never had to - adjust themselves to any other light. His world was very small. Its - limits were the walls of the lair; but as he had no knowledge of the - wide world outside, he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of - his existence. -

-

- But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different - from the rest. This was the mouth of the cave and the source of - light. He had discovered that it was different from the other walls - long before he had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions. - It had been an irresistible attraction before ever his eyes opened - and looked upon it. The light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, - and the eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, sparklike - flashes, warm-coloured and strangely pleasing. The life of his body, - and of every fibre of his body, the life that was the very substance - of his body and that was apart from his own personal life, had - yearned toward this light and urged his body toward it in the same - way that the cunning chemistry of a plant urges it toward the sun. -

-

- Always, in the beginning, before his conscious life dawned, he had - crawled toward the mouth of the cave. And in this his brothers and - sisters were one with him. Never, in that period, did any of them - crawl toward the dark corners of the back-wall. The light drew them - as if they were plants; the chemistry of the life that composed them - demanded the light as a necessity of being; and their little - puppet-bodies crawled blindly and chemically, like the tendrils of a - vine. Later on, when each developed individuality and became - personally conscious of impulsions and desires, the attraction of - the light increased. They were always crawling and sprawling toward - it, and being driven back from it by their mother. -

-

- It was in this way that the grey cub learned other attributes of his - mother than the soft, soothing, tongue. In his insistent crawling - toward the light, he discovered in her a nose that with a sharp - nudge administered rebuke, and later, a paw, that crushed him down - and rolled him over and over with swift, calculating stroke. Thus he - learned hurt; and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt, first, by - not incurring the risk of it; and second, when he had incurred the - risk, by dodging and by retreating. These were conscious actions, - and were the results of his first generalisations upon the world. - Before that he had recoiled automatically from hurt, as he had - crawled automatically toward the light. After that he recoiled from - hurt because he knew that it was hurt. -

-

- He was a fierce little cub. So were his brothers and sisters. It was - to be expected. He was a carnivorous animal. He came of a breed of - meat-killers and meat-eaters. His father and mother lived wholly - upon meat. The milk he had sucked with his first flickering life, - was milk transformed directly from meat, and now, at a month old, - when his eyes had been open for but a week, he was beginning himself - to eat meat—meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged for the - five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her - breast. -

-

- But he was, further, the fiercest of the litter. He could make a - louder rasping growl than any of them. His tiny rages were much more - terrible than theirs. It was he that first learned the trick of - rolling a fellow-cub over with a cunning paw-stroke. And it was he - that first gripped another cub by the ear and pulled and tugged and - growled through jaws tight-clenched. And certainly it was he that - caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from the - mouth of the cave. -

-

- The fascination of the light for the grey cub increased from day to - day. He was perpetually departing on yard-long adventures toward the - cave’s entrance, and as perpetually being driven back. Only he did - not know it for an entrance. He did not know anything about - entrances—passages whereby one goes from one place to another place. - He did not know any other place, much less of a way to get there. So - to him the entrance of the cave was a wall—a wall of light. As the - sun was to the outside dweller, this wall was to him the sun of his - world. It attracted him as a candle attracts a moth. He was always - striving to attain it. The life that was so swiftly expanding within - him, urged him continually toward the wall of light. The life that - was within him knew that it was the one way out, the way he was - predestined to tread. But he himself did not know anything about it. - He did not know there was any outside at all. -

-

- There was one strange thing about this wall of light. His father (he - had already come to recognise his father as the one other dweller in - the world, a creature like his mother, who slept near the light and - was a bringer of meat)—his father had a way of walking right into - the white far wall and disappearing. The grey cub could not - understand this. Though never permitted by his mother to approach - that wall, he had approached the other walls, and encountered hard - obstruction on the end of his tender nose. This hurt. And after - several such adventures, he left the walls alone. Without thinking - about it, he accepted this disappearing into the wall as a - peculiarity of his father, as milk and half-digested meat were - peculiarities of his mother. -

-

- In fact, the grey cub was not given to thinking—at least, to the - kind of thinking customary of men. His brain worked in dim ways. Yet - his conclusions were as sharp and distinct as those achieved by men. - He had a method of accepting things, without questioning the why and - wherefore. In reality, this was the act of classification. He was - never disturbed over why a thing happened. How it happened was - sufficient for him. Thus, when he had bumped his nose on the - back-wall a few times, he accepted that he would not disappear into - walls. In the same way he accepted that his father could disappear - into walls. But he was not in the least disturbed by desire to find - out the reason for the difference between his father and himself. - Logic and physics were no part of his mental make-up. -

-

- Like most creatures of the Wild, he early experienced famine. There - came a time when not only did the meat-supply cease, but the milk no - longer came from his mother’s breast. At first, the cubs whimpered - and cried, but for the most part they slept. It was not long before - they were reduced to a coma of hunger. There were no more spats and - squabbles, no more tiny rages nor attempts at growling; while the - adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether. The cubs - slept, while the life that was in them flickered and died down. -

-

- One Eye was desperate. He ranged far and wide, and slept but little - in the lair that had now become cheerless and miserable. The - she-wolf, too, left her litter and went out in search of meat. In - the first days after the birth of the cubs, One Eye had journeyed - several times back to the Indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; - but, with the melting of the snow and the opening of the streams, - the Indian camp had moved away, and that source of supply was closed - to him. -

-

- When the grey cub came back to life and again took interest in the - far white wall, he found that the population of his world had been - reduced. Only one sister remained to him. The rest were gone. As he - grew stronger, he found himself compelled to play alone, for the - sister no longer lifted her head nor moved about. His little body - rounded out with the meat he now ate; but the food had come too late - for her. She slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung round with - skin in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went - out. -

-

- Then there came a time when the grey cub no longer saw his father - appearing and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the - entrance. This had happened at the end of a second and less severe - famine. The she-wolf knew why One Eye never came back, but there was - no way by which she could tell what she had seen to the grey cub. - Hunting herself for meat, up the left fork of the stream where lived - the lynx, she had followed a day-old trail of One Eye. And she had - found him, or what remained of him, at the end of the trail. There - were many signs of the battle that had been fought, and of the - lynx’s withdrawal to her lair after having won the victory. Before - she went away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but the signs told - her that the lynx was inside, and she had not dared to venture in. -

-

- After that, the she-wolf in her hunting avoided the left fork. For - she knew that in the lynx’s lair was a litter of kittens, and she - knew the lynx for a fierce, bad-tempered creature and a terrible - fighter. It was all very well for half a dozen wolves to drive a - lynx, spitting and bristling, up a tree; but it was quite a - different matter for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx—especially when - the lynx was known to have a litter of hungry kittens at her back. -

-

- But the Wild is the Wild, and motherhood is motherhood, at all times - fiercely protective whether in the Wild or out of it; and the time - was to come when the she-wolf, for her grey cub’s sake, would - venture the left fork, and the lair in the rocks, and the lynx’s - wrath. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IVThe Wall of the World -

-

- By the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting - expeditions, the cub had learned well the law that forbade his - approaching the entrance. Not only had this law been forcibly and - many times impressed on him by his mother’s nose and paw, but in him - the instinct of fear was developing. Never, in his brief cave-life, - had he encountered anything of which to be afraid. Yet fear was in - him. It had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a - thousand thousand lives. It was a heritage he had received directly - from One Eye and the she-wolf; but to them, in turn, it had been - passed down through all the generations of wolves that had gone - before. Fear!—that legacy of the Wild which no animal may escape nor - exchange for pottage. -

-

- So the grey cub knew fear, though he knew not the stuff of which - fear was made. Possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions of - life. For he had already learned that there were such restrictions. - Hunger he had known; and when he could not appease his hunger he had - felt restriction. The hard obstruction of the cave-wall, the sharp - nudge of his mother’s nose, the smashing stroke of her paw, the - hunger unappeased of several famines, had borne in upon him that all - was not freedom in the world, that to life there was limitations and - restraints. These limitations and restraints were laws. To be - obedient to them was to escape hurt and make for happiness. -

-

- He did not reason the question out in this man fashion. He merely - classified the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt. - And after such classification he avoided the things that hurt, the - restrictions and restraints, in order to enjoy the satisfactions and - the remunerations of life. -

-

- Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, - and in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, - fear, he kept away from the mouth of the cave. It remained to him a - white wall of light. When his mother was absent, he slept most of - the time, while during the intervals that he was awake he kept very - quiet, suppressing the whimpering cries that tickled in his throat - and strove for noise. -

-

- Once, lying awake, he heard a strange sound in the white wall. He - did not know that it was a wolverine, standing outside, all - a-trembling with its own daring, and cautiously scenting out the - contents of the cave. The cub knew only that the sniff was strange, - a something unclassified, therefore unknown and terrible—for the - unknown was one of the chief elements that went into the making of - fear. -

-

- The hair bristled upon the grey cub’s back, but it bristled - silently. How was he to know that this thing that sniffed was a - thing at which to bristle? It was not born of any knowledge of his, - yet it was the visible expression of the fear that was in him, and - for which, in his own life, there was no accounting. But fear was - accompanied by another instinct—that of concealment. The cub was in - a frenzy of terror, yet he lay without movement or sound, frozen, - petrified into immobility, to all appearances dead. His mother, - coming home, growled as she smelt the wolverine’s track, and bounded - into the cave and licked and nozzled him with undue vehemence of - affection. And the cub felt that somehow he had escaped a great - hurt. -

-

- But there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of - which was growth. Instinct and law demanded of him obedience. But - growth demanded disobedience. His mother and fear impelled him to - keep away from the white wall. Growth is life, and life is for ever - destined to make for light. So there was no damming up the tide of - life that was rising within him—rising with every mouthful of meat - he swallowed, with every breath he drew. In the end, one day, fear - and obedience were swept away by the rush of life, and the cub - straddled and sprawled toward the entrance. -

-

- Unlike any other wall with which he had had experience, this wall - seemed to recede from him as he approached. No hard surface collided - with the tender little nose he thrust out tentatively before him. - The substance of the wall seemed as permeable and yielding as light. - And as condition, in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he - entered into what had been wall to him and bathed in the substance - that composed it. -

-

- It was bewildering. He was sprawling through solidity. And ever the - light grew brighter. Fear urged him to go back, but growth drove him - on. Suddenly he found himself at the mouth of the cave. The wall, - inside which he had thought himself, as suddenly leaped back before - him to an immeasurable distance. The light had become painfully - bright. He was dazzled by it. Likewise he was made dizzy by this - abrupt and tremendous extension of space. Automatically, his eyes - were adjusting themselves to the brightness, focusing themselves to - meet the increased distance of objects. At first, the wall had - leaped beyond his vision. He now saw it again; but it had taken upon - itself a remarkable remoteness. Also, its appearance had changed. It - was now a variegated wall, composed of the trees that fringed the - stream, the opposing mountain that towered above the trees, and the - sky that out-towered the mountain. -

-

- A great fear came upon him. This was more of the terrible unknown. - He crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world. - He was very much afraid. Because it was unknown, it was hostile to - him. Therefore the hair stood up on end along his back and his lips - wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidating snarl. - Out of his puniness and fright he challenged and menaced the whole - wide world. -

-

- Nothing happened. He continued to gaze, and in his interest he - forgot to snarl. Also, he forgot to be afraid. For the time, fear - had been routed by growth, while growth had assumed the guise of - curiosity. He began to notice near objects—an open portion of the - stream that flashed in the sun, the blasted pine-tree that stood at - the base of the slope, and the slope itself, that ran right up to - him and ceased two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he - crouched. -

-

- Now the grey cub had lived all his days on a level floor. He had - never experienced the hurt of a fall. He did not know what a fall - was. So he stepped boldly out upon the air. His hind-legs still - rested on the cave-lip, so he fell forward head downward. The earth - struck him a harsh blow on the nose that made him yelp. Then he - began rolling down the slope, over and over. He was in a panic of - terror. The unknown had caught him at last. It had gripped savagely - hold of him and was about to wreak upon him some terrific hurt. - Growth was now routed by fear, and he ki-yi’d like any frightened - puppy. -

-

- The unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt, and he - yelped and ki-yi’d unceasingly. This was a different proposition - from crouching in frozen fear while the unknown lurked just - alongside. Now the unknown had caught tight hold of him. Silence - would do no good. Besides, it was not fear, but terror, that - convulsed him. -

-

- But the slope grew more gradual, and its base was grass-covered. - Here the cub lost momentum. When at last he came to a stop, he gave - one last agonised yell and then a long, whimpering wail. Also, and - quite as a matter of course, as though in his life he had already - made a thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry clay that - soiled him. -

-

- After that he sat up and gazed about him, as might the first man of - the earth who landed upon Mars. The cub had broken through the wall - of the world, the unknown had let go its hold of him, and here he - was without hurt. But the first man on Mars would have experienced - less unfamiliarity than did he. Without any antecedent knowledge, - without any warning whatever that such existed, he found himself an - explorer in a totally new world. -

-

- Now that the terrible unknown had let go of him, he forgot that the - unknown had any terrors. He was aware only of curiosity in all the - things about him. He inspected the grass beneath him, the moss-berry - plant just beyond, and the dead trunk of the blasted pine that stood - on the edge of an open space among the trees. A squirrel, running - around the base of the trunk, came full upon him, and gave him a - great fright. He cowered down and snarled. But the squirrel was as - badly scared. It ran up the tree, and from a point of safety - chattered back savagely. -

-

- This helped the cub’s courage, and though the woodpecker he next - encountered gave him a start, he proceeded confidently on his way. - Such was his confidence, that when a moose-bird impudently hopped up - to him, he reached out at it with a playful paw. The result was a - sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him cower down and - ki-yi. The noise he made was too much for the moose-bird, who sought - safety in flight. -

-

- But the cub was learning. His misty little mind had already made an - unconscious classification. There were live things and things not - alive. Also, he must watch out for the live things. The things not - alive remained always in one place, but the live things moved about, - and there was no telling what they might do. The thing to expect of - them was the unexpected, and for this he must be prepared. -

-

- He travelled very clumsily. He ran into sticks and things. A twig - that he thought a long way off, would the next instant hit him on - the nose or rake along his ribs. There were inequalities of surface. - Sometimes he overstepped and stubbed his nose. Quite as often he - understepped and stubbed his feet. Then there were the pebbles and - stones that turned under him when he trod upon them; and from them - he came to know that the things not alive were not all in the same - state of stable equilibrium as was his cave—also, that small things - not alive were more liable than large things to fall down or turn - over. But with every mishap he was learning. The longer he walked, - the better he walked. He was adjusting himself. He was learning to - calculate his own muscular movements, to know his physical - limitations, to measure distances between objects, and between - objects and himself. -

-

- His was the luck of the beginner. Born to be a hunter of meat - (though he did not know it), he blundered upon meat just outside his - own cave-door on his first foray into the world. It was by sheer - blundering that he chanced upon the shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest. - He fell into it. He had essayed to walk along the trunk of a fallen - pine. The rotten bark gave way under his feet, and with a despairing - yelp he pitched down the rounded crescent, smashed through the - leafage and stalks of a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, on - the ground, fetched up in the midst of seven ptarmigan chicks. -

-

- They made noises, and at first he was frightened at them. Then he - perceived that they were very little, and he became bolder. They - moved. He placed his paw on one, and its movements were accelerated. - This was a source of enjoyment to him. He smelled it. He picked it - up in his mouth. It struggled and tickled his tongue. At the same - time he was made aware of a sensation of hunger. His jaws closed - together. There was a crunching of fragile bones, and warm blood ran - in his mouth. The taste of it was good. This was meat, the same as - his mother gave him, only it was alive between his teeth and - therefore better. So he ate the ptarmigan. Nor did he stop till he - had devoured the whole brood. Then he licked his chops in quite the - same way his mother did, and began to crawl out of the bush. -

-

- He encountered a feathered whirlwind. He was confused and blinded by - the rush of it and the beat of angry wings. He hid his head between - his paws and yelped. The blows increased. The mother ptarmigan was - in a fury. Then he became angry. He rose up, snarling, striking out - with his paws. He sank his tiny teeth into one of the wings and - pulled and tugged sturdily. The ptarmigan struggled against him, - showering blows upon him with her free wing. It was his first - battle. He was elated. He forgot all about the unknown. He no longer - was afraid of anything. He was fighting, tearing at a live thing - that was striking at him. Also, this live thing was meat. The lust - to kill was on him. He had just destroyed little live things. He - would now destroy a big live thing. He was too busy and happy to - know that he was happy. He was thrilling and exulting in ways new to - him and greater to him than any he had known before. -

-

- He held on to the wing and growled between his tight-clenched teeth. - The ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush. When she turned and tried - to drag him back into the bush’s shelter, he pulled her away from it - and on into the open. And all the time she was making outcry and - striking with her free wing, while feathers were flying like a - snow-fall. The pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous. All the - fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging through him. - This was living, though he did not know it. He was realising his own - meaning in the world; he was doing that for which he was - made—killing meat and battling to kill it. He was justifying his - existence, than which life can do no greater; for life achieves its - summit when it does to the uttermost that which it was equipped to - do. -

-

- After a time, the ptarmigan ceased her struggling. He still held her - by the wing, and they lay on the ground and looked at each other. He - tried to growl threateningly, ferociously. She pecked on his nose, - which by now, what of previous adventures was sore. He winced but - held on. She pecked him again and again. From wincing he went to - whimpering. He tried to back away from her, oblivious to the fact - that by his hold on her he dragged her after him. A rain of pecks - fell on his ill-used nose. The flood of fight ebbed down in him, - and, releasing his prey, he turned tail and scampered on across the - open in inglorious retreat. -

-

- He lay down to rest on the other side of the open, near the edge of - the bushes, his tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and panting, - his nose still hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper. - But as he lay there, suddenly there came to him a feeling as of - something terrible impending. The unknown with all its terrors - rushed upon him, and he shrank back instinctively into the shelter - of the bush. As he did so, a draught of air fanned him, and a large, - winged body swept ominously and silently past. A hawk, driving down - out of the blue, had barely missed him. -

-

- While he lay in the bush, recovering from his fright and peering - fearfully out, the mother-ptarmigan on the other side of the open - space fluttered out of the ravaged nest. It was because of her loss - that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky. But the - cub saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him—the swift downward - swoop of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the ground, - the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the - ptarmigan’s squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk’s rush upward - into the blue, carrying the ptarmigan away with it. -

-

- It was a long time before the cub left its shelter. He had learned - much. Live things were meat. They were good to eat. Also, live - things when they were large enough, could give hurt. It was better - to eat small live things like ptarmigan chicks, and to let alone - large live things like ptarmigan hens. Nevertheless he felt a little - prick of ambition, a sneaking desire to have another battle with - that ptarmigan hen—only the hawk had carried her away. May be there - were other ptarmigan hens. He would go and see. -

-

- He came down a shelving bank to the stream. He had never seen water - before. The footing looked good. There were no inequalities of - surface. He stepped boldly out on it; and went down, crying with - fear, into the embrace of the unknown. It was cold, and he gasped, - breathing quickly. The water rushed into his lungs instead of the - air that had always accompanied his act of breathing. The - suffocation he experienced was like the pang of death. To him it - signified death. He had no conscious knowledge of death, but like - every animal of the Wild, he possessed the instinct of death. To him - it stood as the greatest of hurts. It was the very essence of the - unknown; it was the sum of the terrors of the unknown, the one - culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen to him, - about which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything. -

-

- He came to the surface, and the sweet air rushed into his open - mouth. He did not go down again. Quite as though it had been a - long-established custom of his he struck out with all his legs and - began to swim. The near bank was a yard away; but he had come up - with his back to it, and the first thing his eyes rested upon was - the opposite bank, toward which he immediately began to swim. The - stream was a small one, but in the pool it widened out to a score of - feet. -

-

- Midway in the passage, the current picked up the cub and swept him - downstream. He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom of - the pool. Here was little chance for swimming. The quiet water had - become suddenly angry. Sometimes he was under, sometimes on top. At - all times he was in violent motion, now being turned over or around, - and again, being smashed against a rock. And with every rock he - struck, he yelped. His progress was a series of yelps, from which - might have been adduced the number of rocks he encountered. -

-

- Below the rapid was a second pool, and here, captured by the eddy, - he was gently borne to the bank, and as gently deposited on a bed of - gravel. He crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down. He - had learned some more about the world. Water was not alive. Yet it - moved. Also, it looked as solid as the earth, but was without any - solidity at all. His conclusion was that things were not always what - they appeared to be. The cub’s fear of the unknown was an inherited - distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. - Thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding - distrust of appearances. He would have to learn the reality of a - thing before he could put his faith into it. -

-

- One other adventure was destined for him that day. He had - recollected that there was such a thing in the world as his mother. - And then there came to him a feeling that he wanted her more than - all the rest of the things in the world. Not only was his body tired - with the adventures it had undergone, but his little brain was - equally tired. In all the days he had lived it had not worked so - hard as on this one day. Furthermore, he was sleepy. So he started - out to look for the cave and his mother, feeling at the same time an - overwhelming rush of loneliness and helplessness. -

-

- He was sprawling along between some bushes, when he heard a sharp - intimidating cry. There was a flash of yellow before his eyes. He - saw a weasel leaping swiftly away from him. It was a small live - thing, and he had no fear. Then, before him, at his feet, he saw an - extremely small live thing, only several inches long, a young - weasel, that, like himself, had disobediently gone out adventuring. - It tried to retreat before him. He turned it over with his paw. It - made a queer, grating noise. The next moment the flash of yellow - reappeared before his eyes. He heard again the intimidating cry, and - at the same instant received a sharp blow on the side of the neck - and felt the sharp teeth of the mother-weasel cut into his flesh. -

-

- While he yelped and ki-yi’d and scrambled backward, he saw the - mother-weasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into the - neighbouring thicket. The cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt, - but his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and - weakly whimpered. This mother-weasel was so small and so savage. He - was yet to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most - ferocious, vindictive, and terrible of all the killers of the Wild. - But a portion of this knowledge was quickly to be his. -

-

- He was still whimpering when the mother-weasel reappeared. She did - not rush him, now that her young one was safe. She approached more - cautiously, and the cub had full opportunity to observe her lean, - snakelike body, and her head, erect, eager, and snake-like itself. - Her sharp, menacing cry sent the hair bristling along his back, and - he snarled warningly at her. She came closer and closer. There was a - leap, swifter than his unpractised sight, and the lean, yellow body - disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision. The next - moment she was at his throat, her teeth buried in his hair and - flesh. -

-

- At first he snarled and tried to fight; but he was very young, and - this was only his first day in the world, and his snarl became a - whimper, his fight a struggle to escape. The weasel never relaxed - her hold. She hung on, striving to press down with her teeth to the - great vein where his life-blood bubbled. The weasel was a drinker of - blood, and it was ever her preference to drink from the throat of - life itself. -

-

- The grey cub would have died, and there would have been no story to - write about him, had not the she-wolf come bounding through the - bushes. The weasel let go the cub and flashed at the she-wolf’s - throat, missing, but getting a hold on the jaw instead. The she-wolf - flirted her head like the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel’s hold - and flinging it high in the air. And, still in the air, the - she-wolf’s jaws closed on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel knew - death between the crunching teeth. -

-

- The cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his - mother. Her joy at finding him seemed even greater than his joy at - being found. She nozzled him and caressed him and licked the cuts - made in him by the weasel’s teeth. Then, between them, mother and - cub, they ate the blood-drinker, and after that went back to the - cave and slept. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VThe Law of Meat -

-

- The cub’s development was rapid. He rested for two days, and then - ventured forth from the cave again. It was on this adventure that he - found the young weasel whose mother he had helped eat, and he saw to - it that the young weasel went the way of its mother. But on this - trip he did not get lost. When he grew tired, he found his way back - to the cave and slept. And every day thereafter found him out and - ranging a wider area. -

-

- He began to get accurate measurement of his strength and his - weakness, and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious. He - found it expedient to be cautious all the time, except for the rare - moments, when, assured of his own intrepidity, he abandoned himself - to petty rages and lusts. -

-

- He was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray - ptarmigan. Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter of - the squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine. While the sight - of a moose-bird almost invariably put him into the wildest of rages; - for he never forgot the peck on the nose he had received from the - first of that ilk he encountered. -

-

- But there were times when even a moose-bird failed to affect him, - and those were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some - other prowling meat hunter. He never forgot the hawk, and its moving - shadow always sent him crouching into the nearest thicket. He no - longer sprawled and straddled, and already he was developing the - gait of his mother, slinking and furtive, apparently without - exertion, yet sliding along with a swiftness that was as deceptive - as it was imperceptible. -

-

- In the matter of meat, his luck had been all in the beginning. The - seven ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of - his killings. His desire to kill strengthened with the days, and he - cherished hungry ambitions for the squirrel that chattered so - volubly and always informed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub was - approaching. But as birds flew in the air, squirrels could climb - trees, and the cub could only try to crawl unobserved upon the - squirrel when it was on the ground. -

-

- The cub entertained a great respect for his mother. She could get - meat, and she never failed to bring him his share. Further, she was - unafraid of things. It did not occur to him that this fearlessness - was founded upon experience and knowledge. Its effect on him was - that of an impression of power. His mother represented power; and as - he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonishment of her - paw; while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the slash - of her fangs. For this, likewise, he respected his mother. She - compelled obedience from him, and the older he grew the shorter grew - her temper. -

-

- Famine came again, and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once - more the bite of hunger. The she-wolf ran herself thin in the quest - for meat. She rarely slept any more in the cave, spending most of - her time on the meat-trail, and spending it vainly. This famine was - not a long one, but it was severe while it lasted. The cub found no - more milk in his mother’s breast, nor did he get one mouthful of - meat for himself. -

-

- Before, he had hunted in play, for the sheer joyousness of it; now - he hunted in deadly earnestness, and found nothing. Yet the failure - of it accelerated his development. He studied the habits of the - squirrel with greater carefulness, and strove with greater craft to - steal upon it and surprise it. He studied the wood-mice and tried to - dig them out of their burrows; and he learned much about the ways of - moose-birds and woodpeckers. And there came a day when the hawk’s - shadow did not drive him crouching into the bushes. He had grown - stronger and wiser, and more confident. Also, he was desperate. So - he sat on his haunches, conspicuously in an open space, and - challenged the hawk down out of the sky. For he knew that there, - floating in the blue above him, was meat, the meat his stomach - yearned after so insistently. But the hawk refused to come down and - give battle, and the cub crawled away into a thicket and whimpered - his disappointment and hunger. -

-

- The famine broke. The she-wolf brought home meat. It was strange - meat, different from any she had ever brought before. It was a lynx - kitten, partly grown, like the cub, but not so large. And it was all - for him. His mother had satisfied her hunger elsewhere; though he - did not know that it was the rest of the lynx litter that had gone - to satisfy her. Nor did he know the desperateness of her deed. He - knew only that the velvet-furred kitten was meat, and he ate and - waxed happier with every mouthful. -

-

- A full stomach conduces to inaction, and the cub lay in the cave, - sleeping against his mother’s side. He was aroused by her snarling. - Never had he heard her snarl so terribly. Possibly in her whole life - it was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. There was reason for - it, and none knew it better than she. A lynx’s lair is not despoiled - with impunity. In the full glare of the afternoon light, crouching - in the entrance of the cave, the cub saw the lynx-mother. The hair - rippled up along his back at the sight. Here was fear, and it did - not require his instinct to tell him of it. And if sight alone were - not sufficient, the cry of rage the intruder gave, beginning with a - snarl and rushing abruptly upward into a hoarse screech, was - convincing enough in itself. -

-

- The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and - snarled valiantly by his mother’s side. But she thrust him - ignominiously away and behind her. Because of the low-roofed - entrance the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling - rush of it the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down. The cub - saw little of the battle. There was a tremendous snarling and - spitting and screeching. The two animals threshed about, the lynx - ripping and tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, - while the she-wolf used her teeth alone. -

-

- Once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the - lynx. He clung on, growling savagely. Though he did not know it, by - the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg and thereby - saved his mother much damage. A change in the battle crushed him - under both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold. The next moment - the two mothers separated, and, before they rushed together again, - the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped his - shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against the - wall. Then was added to the uproar the cub’s shrill yelp of pain and - fright. But the fight lasted so long that he had time to cry himself - out and to experience a second burst of courage; and the end of the - battle found him again clinging to a hind-leg and furiously growling - between his teeth. -

-

- The lynx was dead. But the she-wolf was very weak and sick. At first - she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the blood - she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a day - and a night she lay by her dead foe’s side, without movement, - scarcely breathing. For a week she never left the cave, except for - water, and then her movements were slow and painful. At the end of - that time the lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf’s wounds had - healed sufficiently to permit her to take the meat-trail again. -

-

- The cub’s shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he limped - from the terrible slash he had received. But the world now seemed - changed. He went about in it with greater confidence, with a feeling - of prowess that had not been his in the days before the battle with - the lynx. He had looked upon life in a more ferocious aspect; he had - fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; and he had - survived. And because of all this, he carried himself more boldly, - with a touch of defiance that was new in him. He was no longer - afraid of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, - though the unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries - and terrors, intangible and ever-menacing. -

-

- He began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much - of the killing of meat and began to play his part in it. And in his - own dim way he learned the law of meat. There were two kinds of - life—his own kind and the other kind. His own kind included his - mother and himself. The other kind included all live things that - moved. But the other kind was divided. One portion was what his own - kind killed and ate. This portion was composed of the non-killers - and the small killers. The other portion killed and ate his own - kind, or was killed and eaten by his own kind. And out of this - classification arose the law. The aim of life was meat. Life itself - was meat. Life lived on life. There were the eaters and the eaten. - The law was: EAT OR BE EATEN. He did not formulate the law in clear, - set terms and moralise about it. He did not even think the law; he - merely lived the law without thinking about it at all. -

-

- He saw the law operating around him on every side. He had eaten the - ptarmigan chicks. The hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother. The hawk - would also have eaten him. Later, when he had grown more formidable, - he wanted to eat the hawk. He had eaten the lynx kitten. The - lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed and - eaten. And so it went. The law was being lived about him by all live - things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law. He was a - killer. His only food was meat, live meat, that ran away swiftly - before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in the - ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and - ran after him. -

-

- Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomised life as - a voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a - multitude of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and - being hunted, eating and being eaten, all in blindness and - confusion, with violence and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and - slaughter, ruled over by chance, merciless, planless, endless. -

-

- But the cub did not think in man-fashion. He did not look at things - with wide vision. He was single-purposed, and entertained but one - thought or desire at a time. Besides the law of meat, there were a - myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey. The world - was filled with surprise. The stir of the life that was in him, the - play of his muscles, was an unending happiness. To run down meat was - to experience thrills and elations. His rages and battles were - pleasures. Terror itself, and the mystery of the unknown, led to his - living. -

-

- And there were easements and satisfactions. To have a full stomach, - to doze lazily in the sunshine—such things were remuneration in full - for his ardours and toils, while his ardours and tolls were in - themselves self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, and - life is always happy when it is expressing itself. So the cub had no - quarrel with his hostile environment. He was very much alive, very - happy, and very proud of himself. -

-
-
-
-

Part III

-
-

- Chapter IThe Makers of Fire -

-

- The cub came upon it suddenly. It was his own fault. He had been - careless. He had left the cave and run down to the stream to drink. - It might have been that he took no notice because he was heavy with - sleep. (He had been out all night on the meat-trail, and had but - just then awakened.) And his carelessness might have been due to the - familiarity of the trail to the pool. He had travelled it often, and - nothing had ever happened on it. -

-

- He went down past the blasted pine, crossed the open space, and - trotted in amongst the trees. Then, at the same instant, he saw and - smelt. Before him, sitting silently on their haunches, were five - live things, the like of which he had never seen before. It was his - first glimpse of mankind. But at the sight of him the five men did - not spring to their feet, nor show their teeth, nor snarl. They did - not move, but sat there, silent and ominous. -

-

- Nor did the cub move. Every instinct of his nature would have - impelled him to dash wildly away, had there not suddenly and for the - first time arisen in him another and counter instinct. A great awe - descended upon him. He was beaten down to movelessness by an - overwhelming sense of his own weakness and littleness. Here was - mastery and power, something far and away beyond him. -

-

- The cub had never seen man, yet the instinct concerning man was his. - In dim ways he recognised in man the animal that had fought itself - to primacy over the other animals of the Wild. Not alone out of his - own eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now - looking upon man—out of eyes that had circled in the darkness around - countless winter camp-fires, that had peered from safe distances and - from the hearts of thickets at the strange, two-legged animal that - was lord over living things. The spell of the cub’s heritage was - upon him, the fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle - and the accumulated experience of the generations. The heritage was - too compelling for a wolf that was only a cub. Had he been - full-grown, he would have run away. As it was, he cowered down in a - paralysis of fear, already half proffering the submission that his - kind had proffered from the first time a wolf came in to sit by - man’s fire and be made warm. -

-

- One of the Indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above - him. The cub cowered closer to the ground. It was the unknown, - objectified at last, in concrete flesh and blood, bending over him - and reaching down to seize hold of him. His hair bristled - involuntarily; his lips writhed back and his little fangs were - bared. The hand, poised like doom above him, hesitated, and the man - spoke laughing, “Wabam wabisca ip pit tah.” (“Look! The white - fangs!”) -

-

- The other Indians laughed loudly, and urged the man on to pick up - the cub. As the hand descended closer and closer, there raged within - the cub a battle of the instincts. He experienced two great - impulsions—to yield and to fight. The resulting action was a - compromise. He did both. He yielded till the hand almost touched - him. Then he fought, his teeth flashing in a snap that sank them - into the hand. The next moment he received a clout alongside the - head that knocked him over on his side. Then all fight fled out of - him. His puppyhood and the instinct of submission took charge of - him. He sat up on his haunches and ki-yi’d. But the man whose hand - he had bitten was angry. The cub received a clout on the other side - of his head. Whereupon he sat up and ki-yi’d louder than ever. -

-

- The four Indians laughed more loudly, while even the man who had - been bitten began to laugh. They surrounded the cub and laughed at - him, while he wailed out his terror and his hurt. In the midst of - it, he heard something. The Indians heard it too. But the cub knew - what it was, and with a last, long wail that had in it more of - triumph than grief, he ceased his noise and waited for the coming of - his mother, of his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and - killed all things and was never afraid. She was snarling as she ran. - She had heard the cry of her cub and was dashing to save him. -

-

- She bounded in amongst them, her anxious and militant motherhood - making her anything but a pretty sight. But to the cub the spectacle - of her protective rage was pleasing. He uttered a glad little cry - and bounded to meet her, while the man-animals went back hastily - several steps. The she-wolf stood over against her cub, facing the - men, with bristling hair, a snarl rumbling deep in her throat. Her - face was distorted and malignant with menace, even the bridge of the - nose wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl. -

-

- Then it was that a cry went up from one of the men. “Kiche!” was - what he uttered. It was an exclamation of surprise. The cub felt his - mother wilting at the sound. -

-

- “Kiche!” the man cried again, this time with sharpness and - authority. -

-

- And then the cub saw his mother, the she-wolf, the fearless one, - crouching down till her belly touched the ground, whimpering, - wagging her tail, making peace signs. The cub could not understand. - He was appalled. The awe of man rushed over him again. His instinct - had been true. His mother verified it. She, too, rendered submission - to the man-animals. -

-

- The man who had spoken came over to her. He put his hand upon her - head, and she only crouched closer. She did not snap, nor threaten - to snap. The other men came up, and surrounded her, and felt her, - and pawed her, which actions she made no attempt to resent. They - were greatly excited, and made many noises with their mouths. These - noises were not indication of danger, the cub decided, as he - crouched near his mother still bristling from time to time but doing - his best to submit. -

-

- “It is not strange,” an Indian was saying. “Her father was a wolf. - It is true, her mother was a dog; but did not my brother tie her out - in the woods all of three nights in the mating season? Therefore was - the father of Kiche a wolf.” -

-

- “It is a year, Grey Beaver, since she ran away,” spoke a second - Indian. -

-

- “It is not strange, Salmon Tongue,” Grey Beaver answered. “It was - the time of the famine, and there was no meat for the dogs.” -

-

“She has lived with the wolves,” said a third Indian.

-

- “So it would seem, Three Eagles,” Grey Beaver answered, laying his - hand on the cub; “and this be the sign of it.” -

-

- The cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand, and the hand flew - back to administer a clout. Whereupon the cub covered its fangs, and - sank down submissively, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind his - ears, and up and down his back. -

-

- “This be the sign of it,” Grey Beaver went on. “It is plain that his - mother is Kiche. But his father was a wolf. Wherefore is there in - him little dog and much wolf. His fangs be white, and White Fang - shall be his name. I have spoken. He is my dog. For was not Kiche my - brother’s dog? And is not my brother dead?” -

-

- The cub, who had thus received a name in the world, lay and watched. - For a time the man-animals continued to make their mouth-noises. - Then Grey Beaver took a knife from a sheath that hung around his - neck, and went into the thicket and cut a stick. White Fang watched - him. He notched the stick at each end and in the notches fastened - strings of raw-hide. One string he tied around the throat of Kiche. - Then he led her to a small pine, around which he tied the other - string. -

-

- White Fang followed and lay down beside her. Salmon Tongue’s hand - reached out to him and rolled him over on his back. Kiche looked on - anxiously. White Fang felt fear mounting in him again. He could not - quite suppress a snarl, but he made no offer to snap. The hand, with - fingers crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stomach in a playful - way and rolled him from side to side. It was ridiculous and - ungainly, lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air. - Besides, it was a position of such utter helplessness that White - Fang’s whole nature revolted against it. He could do nothing to - defend himself. If this man-animal intended harm, White Fang knew - that he could not escape it. How could he spring away with his four - legs in the air above him? Yet submission made him master his fear, - and he only growled softly. This growl he could not suppress; nor - did the man-animal resent it by giving him a blow on the head. And - furthermore, such was the strangeness of it, White Fang experienced - an unaccountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and - forth. When he was rolled on his side he ceased to growl, when the - fingers pressed and prodded at the base of his ears the pleasurable - sensation increased; and when, with a final rub and scratch, the man - left him alone and went away, all fear had died out of White Fang. - He was to know fear many times in his dealing with man; yet it was a - token of the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to - be his. -

-

- After a time, White Fang heard strange noises approaching. He was - quick in his classification, for he knew them at once for man-animal - noises. A few minutes later the remainder of the tribe, strung out - as it was on the march, trailed in. There were more men and many - women and children, forty souls of them, and all heavily burdened - with camp equipage and outfit. Also there were many dogs; and these, - with the exception of the part-grown puppies, were likewise burdened - with camp outfit. On their backs, in bags that fastened tightly - around underneath, the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of - weight. -

-

- White Fang had never seen dogs before, but at sight of them he felt - that they were his own kind, only somehow different. But they - displayed little difference from the wolf when they discovered the - cub and his mother. There was a rush. White Fang bristled and - snarled and snapped in the face of the open-mouthed oncoming wave of - dogs, and went down and under them, feeling the sharp slash of teeth - in his body, himself biting and tearing at the legs and bellies - above him. There was a great uproar. He could hear the snarl of - Kiche as she fought for him; and he could hear the cries of the - man-animals, the sound of clubs striking upon bodies, and the yelps - of pain from the dogs so struck. -

-

- Only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again. He could - now see the man-animals driving back the dogs with clubs and stones, - defending him, saving him from the savage teeth of his kind that - somehow was not his kind. And though there was no reason in his - brain for a clear conception of so abstract a thing as justice, - nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the justice of the - man-animals, and he knew them for what they were—makers of law and - executors of law. Also, he appreciated the power with which they - administered the law. Unlike any animals he had ever encountered, - they did not bite nor claw. They enforced their live strength with - the power of dead things. Dead things did their bidding. Thus, - sticks and stones, directed by these strange creatures, leaped - through the air like living things, inflicting grievous hurts upon - the dogs. -

-

- To his mind this was power unusual, power inconceivable and beyond - the natural, power that was godlike. White Fang, in the very nature - of him, could never know anything about gods; at the best he could - know only things that were beyond knowing—but the wonder and awe - that he had of these man-animals in ways resembled what would be the - wonder and awe of man at sight of some celestial creature, on a - mountain top, hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an astonished - world. -

-

- The last dog had been driven back. The hubbub died down. And White - Fang licked his hurts and meditated upon this, his first taste of - pack-cruelty and his introduction to the pack. He had never dreamed - that his own kind consisted of more than One Eye, his mother, and - himself. They had constituted a kind apart, and here, abruptly, he - had discovered many more creatures apparently of his own kind. And - there was a subconscious resentment that these, his kind, at first - sight had pitched upon him and tried to destroy him. In the same way - he resented his mother being tied with a stick, even though it was - done by the superior man-animals. It savoured of the trap, of - bondage. Yet of the trap and of bondage he knew nothing. Freedom to - roam and run and lie down at will, had been his heritage; and here - it was being infringed upon. His mother’s movements were restricted - to the length of a stick, and by the length of that same stick was - he restricted, for he had not yet got beyond the need of his - mother’s side. -

-

- He did not like it. Nor did he like it when the man-animals arose - and went on with their march; for a tiny man-animal took the other - end of the stick and led Kiche captive behind him, and behind Kiche - followed White Fang, greatly perturbed and worried by this new - adventure he had entered upon. -

-

- They went down the valley of the stream, far beyond White Fang’s - widest ranging, until they came to the end of the valley, where the - stream ran into the Mackenzie River. Here, where canoes were cached - on poles high in the air and where stood fish-racks for the drying - of fish, camp was made; and White Fang looked on with wondering - eyes. The superiority of these man-animals increased with every - moment. There was their mastery over all these sharp-fanged dogs. It - breathed of power. But greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was their - mastery over things not alive; their capacity to communicate motion - to unmoving things; their capacity to change the very face of the - world. -

-

- It was this last that especially affected him. The elevation of - frames of poles caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so - remarkable, being done by the same creatures that flung sticks and - stones to great distances. But when the frames of poles were made - into tepees by being covered with cloth and skins, White Fang was - astounded. It was the colossal bulk of them that impressed him. They - arose around him, on every side, like some monstrous quick-growing - form of life. They occupied nearly the whole circumference of his - field of vision. He was afraid of them. They loomed ominously above - him; and when the breeze stirred them into huge movements, he - cowered down in fear, keeping his eyes warily upon them, and - prepared to spring away if they attempted to precipitate themselves - upon him. -

-

- But in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away. He saw the - women and children passing in and out of them without harm, and he - saw the dogs trying often to get into them, and being driven away - with sharp words and flying stones. After a time, he left Kiche’s - side and crawled cautiously toward the wall of the nearest tepee. It - was the curiosity of growth that urged him on—the necessity of - learning and living and doing that brings experience. The last few - inches to the wall of the tepee were crawled with painful slowness - and precaution. The day’s events had prepared him for the unknown to - manifest itself in most stupendous and unthinkable ways. At last his - nose touched the canvas. He waited. Nothing happened. Then he - smelled the strange fabric, saturated with the man-smell. He closed - on the canvas with his teeth and gave a gentle tug. Nothing - happened, though the adjacent portions of the tepee moved. He tugged - harder. There was a greater movement. It was delightful. He tugged - still harder, and repeatedly, until the whole tepee was in motion. - Then the sharp cry of a squaw inside sent him scampering back to - Kiche. But after that he was afraid no more of the looming bulks of - the tepees. -

-

- A moment later he was straying away again from his mother. Her stick - was tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him. A - part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came toward him - slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance. The puppy’s - name, as White Fang was afterward to hear him called, was Lip-lip. - He had had experience in puppy fights and was already something of a - bully. -

-

- Lip-lip was White Fang’s own kind, and, being only a puppy, did not - seem dangerous; so White Fang prepared to meet him in a friendly - spirit. But when the strangers walk became stiff-legged and his lips - lifted clear of his teeth, White Fang stiffened too, and answered - with lifted lips. They half circled about each other, tentatively, - snarling and bristling. This lasted several minutes, and White Fang - was beginning to enjoy it, as a sort of game. But suddenly, with - remarkable swiftness, Lip-lip leaped in, delivering a slashing snap, - and leaped away again. The snap had taken effect on the shoulder - that had been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep down - near the bone. The surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp out of - White Fang; but the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon - Lip-lip and snapping viciously. -

-

- But Lip-lip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy - fights. Three times, four times, and half a dozen times, his sharp - little teeth scored on the newcomer, until White Fang, yelping - shamelessly, fled to the protection of his mother. It was the first - of the many fights he was to have with Lip-lip, for they were - enemies from the start, born so, with natures destined perpetually - to clash. -

-

- Kiche licked White Fang soothingly with her tongue, and tried to - prevail upon him to remain with her. But his curiosity was rampant, - and several minutes later he was venturing forth on a new quest. He - came upon one of the man-animals, Grey Beaver, who was squatting on - his hams and doing something with sticks and dry moss spread before - him on the ground. White Fang came near to him and watched. Grey - Beaver made mouth-noises which White Fang interpreted as not - hostile, so he came still nearer. -

-

- Women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to Grey - Beaver. It was evidently an affair of moment. White Fang came in - until he touched Grey Beaver’s knee, so curious was he, and already - forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. Suddenly he saw a - strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks and moss - beneath Grey Beaver’s hands. Then, amongst the sticks themselves, - appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a colour like the - colour of the sun in the sky. White Fang knew nothing about fire. It - drew him as the light, in the mouth of the cave had drawn him in his - early puppyhood. He crawled the several steps toward the flame. He - heard Grey Beaver chuckle above him, and he knew the sound was not - hostile. Then his nose touched the flame, and at the same instant - his little tongue went out to it. -

-

- For a moment he was paralysed. The unknown, lurking in the midst of - the sticks and moss, was savagely clutching him by the nose. He - scrambled backward, bursting out in an astonished explosion of - ki-yi’s. At the sound, Kiche leaped snarling to the end of her - stick, and there raged terribly because she could not come to his - aid. But Grey Beaver laughed loudly, and slapped his thighs, and - told the happening to all the rest of the camp, till everybody was - laughing uproariously. But White Fang sat on his haunches and - ki-yi’d and ki-yi’d, a forlorn and pitiable little figure in the - midst of the man-animals. -

-

- It was the worst hurt he had ever known. Both nose and tongue had - been scorched by the live thing, sun-coloured, that had grown up - under Grey Beaver’s hands. He cried and cried interminably, and - every fresh wail was greeted by bursts of laughter on the part of - the man-animals. He tried to soothe his nose with his tongue, but - the tongue was burnt too, and the two hurts coming together produced - greater hurt; whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than - ever. -

-

- And then shame came to him. He knew laughter and the meaning of it. - It is not given us to know how some animals know laughter, and know - when they are being laughed at; but it was this same way that White - Fang knew it. And he felt shame that the man-animals should be - laughing at him. He turned and fled away, not from the hurt of the - fire, but from the laughter that sank even deeper, and hurt in the - spirit of him. And he fled to Kiche, raging at the end of her stick - like an animal gone mad—to Kiche, the one creature in the world who - was not laughing at him. -

-

- Twilight drew down and night came on, and White Fang lay by his - mother’s side. His nose and tongue still hurt, but he was perplexed - by a greater trouble. He was homesick. He felt a vacancy in him, a - need for the hush and quietude of the stream and the cave in the - cliff. Life had become too populous. There were so many of the - man-animals, men, women, and children, all making noises and - irritations. And there were the dogs, ever squabbling and bickering, - bursting into uproars and creating confusions. The restful - loneliness of the only life he had known was gone. Here the very air - was palpitant with life. It hummed and buzzed unceasingly. - Continually changing its intensity and abruptly variant in pitch, it - impinged on his nerves and senses, made him nervous and restless and - worried him with a perpetual imminence of happening. -

-

- He watched the man-animals coming and going and moving about the - camp. In fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the gods - they create, so looked White Fang upon the man-animals before him. - They were superior creatures, of a verity, gods. To his dim - comprehension they were as much wonder-workers as gods are to men. - They were creatures of mastery, possessing all manner of unknown and - impossible potencies, overlords of the alive and the not - alive—making obey that which moved, imparting movement to that which - did not move, and making life, sun-coloured and biting life, to grow - out of dead moss and wood. They were fire-makers! They were gods. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIThe Bondage -

-

- The days were thronged with experience for White Fang. During the - time that Kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about over all the - camp, inquiring, investigating, learning. He quickly came to know - much of the ways of the man-animals, but familiarity did not breed - contempt. The more he came to know them, the more they vindicated - their superiority, the more they displayed their mysterious powers, - the greater loomed their god-likeness. -

-

- To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods - overthrown and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild - dog that have come in to crouch at man’s feet, this grief has never - come. Unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, - vapours and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, - wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power, intangible - out-croppings of self into the realm of spirit—unlike man, the wolf - and the wild dog that have come in to the fire find their gods in - the living flesh, solid to the touch, occupying earth-space and - requiring time for the accomplishment of their ends and their - existence. No effort of faith is necessary to believe in such a god; - no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief in such a god. There - is no getting away from it. There it stands, on its two hind-legs, - club in hand, immensely potential, passionate and wrathful and - loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and around by flesh - that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat like any flesh. -

-

- And so it was with White Fang. The man-animals were gods - unmistakable and unescapable. As his mother, Kiche, had rendered her - allegiance to them at the first cry of her name, so he was beginning - to render his allegiance. He gave them the trail as a privilege - indubitably theirs. When they walked, he got out of their way. When - they called, he came. When they threatened, he cowered down. When - they commanded him to go, he went away hurriedly. For behind any - wish of theirs was power to enforce that wish, power that hurt, - power that expressed itself in clouts and clubs, in flying stones - and stinging lashes of whips. -

-

- He belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. His actions were - theirs to command. His body was theirs to maul, to stamp upon, to - tolerate. Such was the lesson that was quickly borne in upon him. It - came hard, going as it did, counter to much that was strong and - dominant in his own nature; and, while he disliked it in the - learning of it, unknown to himself he was learning to like it. It - was a placing of his destiny in another’s hands, a shifting of the - responsibilities of existence. This in itself was compensation, for - it is always easier to lean upon another than to stand alone. -

-

- But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, - body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego - his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days when - he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to - something calling him far and away. And always he returned, restless - and uncomfortable, to whimper softly and wistfully at Kiche’s side - and to lick her face with eager, questioning tongue. -

-

- White Fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp. He knew the - injustice and greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was - thrown out to be eaten. He came to know that men were more just, - children more cruel, and women more kindly and more likely to toss - him a bit of meat or bone. And after two or three painful adventures - with the mothers of part-grown puppies, he came into the knowledge - that it was always good policy to let such mothers alone, to keep - away from them as far as possible, and to avoid them when he saw - them coming. -

-

- But the bane of his life was Lip-lip. Larger, older, and stronger, - Lip-lip had selected White Fang for his special object of - persecution. White Fang fought willingly enough, but he was - outclassed. His enemy was too big. Lip-lip became a nightmare to - him. Whenever he ventured away from his mother, the bully was sure - to appear, trailing at his heels, snarling at him, picking upon him, - and watchful of an opportunity, when no man-animal was near, to - spring upon him and force a fight. As Lip-lip invariably won, he - enjoyed it hugely. It became his chief delight in life, as it became - White Fang’s chief torment. -

-

- But the effect upon White Fang was not to cow him. Though he - suffered most of the damage and was always defeated, his spirit - remained unsubdued. Yet a bad effect was produced. He became - malignant and morose. His temper had been savage by birth, but it - became more savage under this unending persecution. The genial, - playful, puppyish side of him found little expression. He never - played and gambolled about with the other puppies of the camp. - Lip-lip would not permit it. The moment White Fang appeared near - them, Lip-lip was upon him, bullying and hectoring him, or fighting - with him until he had driven him away. -

-

- The effect of all this was to rob White Fang of much of his - puppyhood and to make him in his comportment older than his age. - Denied the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon - himself and developed his mental processes. He became cunning; he - had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. - Prevented from obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general - feed was given to the camp-dogs, he became a clever thief. He had to - forage for himself, and he foraged well, though he was oft-times a - plague to the squaws in consequence. He learned to sneak about camp, - to be crafty, to know what was going on everywhere, to see and to - hear everything and to reason accordingly, and successfully to - devise ways and means of avoiding his implacable persecutor. -

-

- It was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first - really big crafty game and got there from his first taste of - revenge. As Kiche, when with the wolves, had lured out to - destruction dogs from the camps of men, so White Fang, in manner - somewhat similar, lured Lip-lip into Kiche’s avenging jaws. - Retreating before Lip-lip, White Fang made an indirect flight that - led in and out and around the various tepees of the camp. He was a - good runner, swifter than any puppy of his size, and swifter than - Lip-lip. But he did not run his best in this chase. He barely held - his own, one leap ahead of his pursuer. -

-

- Lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his - victim, forgot caution and locality. When he remembered locality, it - was too late. Dashing at top speed around a tepee, he ran full tilt - into Kiche lying at the end of her stick. He gave one yelp of - consternation, and then her punishing jaws closed upon him. She was - tied, but he could not get away from her easily. She rolled him off - his legs so that he could not run, while she repeatedly ripped and - slashed him with her fangs. -

-

- When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to his - feet, badly dishevelled, hurt both in body and in spirit. His hair - was standing out all over him in tufts where her teeth had mauled. - He stood where he had arisen, opened his mouth, and broke out the - long, heart-broken puppy wail. But even this he was not allowed to - complete. In the middle of it, White Fang, rushing in, sank his - teeth into Lip-lip’s hind leg. There was no fight left in Lip-lip, - and he ran away shamelessly, his victim hot on his heels and - worrying him all the way back to his own tepee. Here the squaws came - to his aid, and White Fang, transformed into a raging demon, was - finally driven off only by a fusillade of stones. -

-

- Came the day when Grey Beaver, deciding that the liability of her - running away was past, released Kiche. White Fang was delighted with - his mother’s freedom. He accompanied her joyfully about the camp; - and, so long as he remained close by her side, Lip-lip kept a - respectful distance. White-Fang even bristled up to him and walked - stiff-legged, but Lip-lip ignored the challenge. He was no fool - himself, and whatever vengeance he desired to wreak, he could wait - until he caught White Fang alone. -

-

- Later on that day, Kiche and White Fang strayed into the edge of the - woods next to the camp. He had led his mother there, step by step, - and now when she stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. The - stream, the lair, and the quiet woods were calling to him, and he - wanted her to come. He ran on a few steps, stopped, and looked back. - She had not moved. He whined pleadingly, and scurried playfully in - and out of the underbrush. He ran back to her, licked her face, and - ran on again. And still she did not move. He stopped and regarded - her, all of an intentness and eagerness, physically expressed, that - slowly faded out of him as she turned her head and gazed back at the - camp. -

-

- There was something calling to him out there in the open. His mother - heard it too. But she heard also that other and louder call, the - call of the fire and of man—the call which has been given alone of - all animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf and the wild-dog, who - are brothers. -

-

- Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. Stronger than the - physical restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp upon her. - Unseen and occultly, the gods still gripped with their power and - would not let her go. White Fang sat down in the shadow of a birch - and whimpered softly. There was a strong smell of pine, and subtle - wood fragrances filled the air, reminding him of his old life of - freedom before the days of his bondage. But he was still only a - part-grown puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or of the - Wild was the call of his mother. All the hours of his short life he - had depended upon her. The time was yet to come for independence. So - he arose and trotted forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and - twice, to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call that still - sounded in the depths of the forest. -

-

- In the Wild the time of a mother with her young is short; but under - the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. Thus it was with - White Fang. Grey Beaver was in the debt of Three Eagles. Three - Eagles was going away on a trip up the Mackenzie to the Great Slave - Lake. A strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty cartridges, and - Kiche, went to pay the debt. White Fang saw his mother taken aboard - Three Eagles’ canoe, and tried to follow her. A blow from Three - Eagles knocked him backward to the land. The canoe shoved off. He - sprang into the water and swam after it, deaf to the sharp cries of - Grey Beaver to return. Even a man-animal, a god, White Fang ignored, - such was the terror he was in of losing his mother. -

-

- But gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and Grey Beaver wrathfully - launched a canoe in pursuit. When he overtook White Fang, he reached - down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear of the water. He - did not deposit him at once in the bottom of the canoe. Holding him - suspended with one hand, with the other hand he proceeded to give - him a beating. And it was a beating. His hand was heavy. - Every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he delivered a multitude of - blows. -

-

- Impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side, now - from that, White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky - pendulum. Varying were the emotions that surged through him. At - first, he had known surprise. Then came a momentary fear, when he - yelped several times to the impact of the hand. But this was quickly - followed by anger. His free nature asserted itself, and he showed - his teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of the wrathful god. - This but served to make the god more wrathful. The blows came - faster, heavier, more shrewd to hurt. -

-

- Grey Beaver continued to beat, White Fang continued to snarl. But - this could not last for ever. One or the other must give over, and - that one was White Fang. Fear surged through him again. For the - first time he was being really man-handled. The occasional blows of - sticks and stones he had previously experienced were as caresses - compared with this. He broke down and began to cry and yelp. For a - time each blow brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into terror, - until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession, - unconnected with the rhythm of the punishment. -

-

- At last Grey Beaver withheld his hand. White Fang, hanging limply, - continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who flung him - down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. In the meantime the canoe - had drifted down the stream. Grey Beaver picked up the paddle. White - Fang was in his way. He spurned him savagely with his foot. In that - moment White Fang’s free nature flashed forth again, and he sank his - teeth into the moccasined foot. -

-

- The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the - beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; likewise - was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but the hard wooden - paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore in all his - small body when he was again flung down in the canoe. Again, and - this time with purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White Fang did not - repeat his attack on the foot. He had learned another lesson of his - bondage. Never, no matter what the circumstance, must he dare to - bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body of the lord - and master was sacred, not to be defiled by the teeth of such as he. - That was evidently the crime of crimes, the one offence there was no - condoning nor overlooking. -

-

- When the canoe touched the shore, White Fang lay whimpering and - motionless, waiting the will of Grey Beaver. It was Grey Beaver’s - will that he should go ashore, for ashore he was flung, striking - heavily on his side and hurting his bruises afresh. He crawled - tremblingly to his feet and stood whimpering. Lip-lip, who had - watched the whole proceeding from the bank, now rushed upon him, - knocking him over and sinking his teeth into him. White Fang was too - helpless to defend himself, and it would have gone hard with him had - not Grey Beaver’s foot shot out, lifting Lip-lip into the air with - its violence so that he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. - This was the man-animal’s justice; and even then, in his own - pitiable plight, White Fang experienced a little grateful thrill. At - Grey Beaver’s heels he limped obediently through the village to the - tepee. And so it came that White Fang learned that the right to - punish was something the gods reserved for themselves and denied to - the lesser creatures under them. -

-

- That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother and - sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey Beaver, - who beat him. After that he mourned gently when the gods were - around. But sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods by - himself, he gave vent to his grief, and cried it out with loud - whimperings and wailings. -

-

- It was during this period that he might have harkened to the - memories of the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild. But - the memory of his mother held him. As the hunting man-animals went - out and came back, so she would come back to the village some time. - So he remained in his bondage waiting for her. -

-

- But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage. There was much to - interest him. Something was always happening. There was no end to - the strange things these gods did, and he was always curious to see. - Besides, he was learning how to get along with Grey Beaver. - Obedience, rigid, undeviating obedience, was what was exacted of - him; and in return he escaped beatings and his existence was - tolerated. -

-

- Nay, Grey Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat, and - defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it. And such a - piece of meat was of value. It was worth more, in some strange way, - then a dozen pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw. Grey Beaver - never petted nor caressed. Perhaps it was the weight of his hand, - perhaps his justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps it - was all these things that influenced White Fang; for a certain tie - of attachment was forming between him and his surly lord. -

-

- Insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick - and stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of White Fang’s - bondage being riveted upon him. The qualities in his kind that in - the beginning made it possible for them to come in to the fires of - men, were qualities capable of development. They were developing in - him, and the camp-life, replete with misery as it was, was secretly - endearing itself to him all the time. But White Fang was unaware of - it. He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche, hope for her return, - and a hungry yearning for the free life that had been his. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIIThe Outcast -

-

- Lip-lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became - wickeder and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. - Savageness was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus - developed exceeded his make-up. He acquired a reputation for - wickedness amongst the man-animals themselves. Wherever there was - trouble and uproar in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of - a squaw over a bit of stolen meat, they were sure to find White Fang - mixed up in it and usually at the bottom of it. They did not bother - to look after the causes of his conduct. They saw only the effects, - and the effects were bad. He was a sneak and a thief, a - mischief-maker, a fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to - his face, the while he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any - quick-flung missile, that he was a wolf and worthless and bound to - come to an evil end. -

-

- He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp. All - the young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. There was a difference - between White Fang and them. Perhaps they sensed his wild-wood - breed, and instinctively felt for him the enmity that the domestic - dog feels for the wolf. But be that as it may, they joined with - Lip-lip in the persecution. And, once declared against him, they - found good reason to continue declared against him. One and all, - from time to time, they felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave - more than he received. Many of them he could whip in single fight; - but single fight was denied him. The beginning of such a fight was a - signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running and pitch upon - him. -

-

- Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how to - take care of himself in a mass-fight against him—and how, on a - single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest - space of time. To keep one’s feet in the midst of the hostile mass - meant life, and this he learnt well. He became cat-like in his - ability to stay on his feet. Even grown dogs might hurtle him - backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies; and - backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding on the - ground, but always with his legs under him and his feet downward to - the mother earth. -

-

- When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual - combat—snarlings and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But - White Fang learned to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the - coming against him of all the young dogs. He must do his work - quickly and get away. So he learnt to give no warning of his - intention. He rushed in and snapped and slashed on the instant, - without notice, before his foe could prepare to meet him. Thus he - learned how to inflict quick and severe damage. Also he learned the - value of surprise. A dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder slashed - open or its ear ripped in ribbons before it knew what was happening, - was a dog half whipped. -

-

- Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by - surprise; while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a - moment the soft underside of its neck—the vulnerable point at which - to strike for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was a - knowledge bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of - wolves. So it was that White Fang’s method when he took the - offensive, was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise - it and knock it off its feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth - at the soft throat. -

-

- Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor - strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog - went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White Fang’s - intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the - edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and - attacking the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. - There was a great row that night. He had been observed, the news had - been carried to the dead dog’s master, the squaws remembered all the - instances of stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was beset by many angry - voices. But he resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which - he had placed the culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for - which his tribespeople clamoured. -

-

- White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period of his - development he never knew a moment’s security. The tooth of every - dog was against him, the hand of every man. He was greeted with - snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. He lived - tensely. He was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary of being - attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared - to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, - or to leap away with a menacing snarl. -

-

- As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young or - old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, and - judgment is required to know when it should be used. White Fang knew - how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he incorporated - all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With nose serrulated - by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves, tongue - whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears - flattened down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs - exposed and dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost - any assailant. A temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him - the vital moment in which to think and determine his action. But - often a pause so gained lengthened out until it evolved into a - complete cessation from the attack. And before more than one of the - grown dogs White Fang’s snarl enabled him to beat an honourable - retreat. -

-

- An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his - sanguinary methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for - its persecution of him. Not permitted himself to run with the pack, - the curious state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack - could run outside the pack. White Fang would not permit it. What of - his bushwhacking and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid - to run by themselves. With the exception of Lip-lip, they were - compelled to hunch together for mutual protection against the - terrible enemy they had made. A puppy alone by the river bank meant - a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused the camp with its shrill pain - and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub that had waylaid it. -

-

- But White Fang’s reprisals did not cease, even when the young dogs - had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked - them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were - bunched. The sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing after - him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety. - But woe the dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! White Fang - had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of the - pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive. This - occurred with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs were - prone to forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while - White Fang never forgot himself. Stealing backward glances as he - ran, he was always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous - pursuer that outran his fellows. -

-

- Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the - situation they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it - was that the hunt of White Fang became their chief game—a deadly - game, withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other - hand, being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. - During the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, - he led the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. But - the pack invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him of its - presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a moving - shadow among the trees after the manner of his father and mother - before him. Further he was more directly connected with the Wild - than they; and he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. A - favourite trick of his was to lose his trail in running water and - then lie quietly in a near-by thicket while their baffled cries - arose around him. -

-

- Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred - upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and - one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom - in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. The code he - learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak. Grey Beaver - was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed him. But the dog - younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing to be destroyed. - His development was in the direction of power. In order to face the - constant danger of hurt and even of destruction, his predatory and - protective faculties were unduly developed. He became quicker of - movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, - more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, - more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent. He had to become - all these things, else he would not have held his own nor survive - the hostile environment in which he found himself. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IVThe Trail of the Gods -

-

- In the fall of the year, when the days were shortening and the bite - of the frost was coming into the air, White Fang got his chance for - liberty. For several days there had been a great hubbub in the - village. The summer camp was being dismantled, and the tribe, bag - and baggage, was preparing to go off to the fall hunting. White Fang - watched it all with eager eyes, and when the tepees began to come - down and the canoes were loading at the bank, he understood. Already - the canoes were departing, and some had disappeared down the river. -

-

- Quite deliberately he determined to stay behind. He waited his - opportunity to slink out of camp to the woods. Here, in the running - stream where ice was beginning to form, he hid his trail. Then he - crawled into the heart of a dense thicket and waited. The time - passed by, and he slept intermittently for hours. Then he was - aroused by Grey Beaver’s voice calling him by name. There were other - voices. White Fang could hear Grey Beaver’s squaw taking part in the - search, and Mit-sah, who was Grey Beaver’s son. -

-

- White Fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl - out of his hiding-place, he resisted it. After a time the voices - died away, and some time after that he crept out to enjoy the - success of his undertaking. Darkness was coming on, and for a while - he played about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. Then, - and quite suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. He sat down to - consider, listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by - it. That nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. He felt the - lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. He was suspicious of the - looming bulks of the trees and of the dark shadows that might - conceal all manner of perilous things. -

-

- Then it was cold. Here was no warm side of a tepee against which to - snuggle. The frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting first one - fore-foot and then the other. He curved his bushy tail around to - cover them, and at the same time he saw a vision. There was nothing - strange about it. Upon his inward sight was impressed a succession - of memory-pictures. He saw the camp again, the tepees, and the blaze - of the fires. He heard the shrill voices of the women, the gruff - basses of the men, and the snarling of the dogs. He was hungry, and - he remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been thrown him. Here - was no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible silence. -

-

- His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened him. He - had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night yawned about him. - His senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle of the camp, used to - the continuous impact of sights and sounds, were now left idle. - There was nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear. They strained to - catch some interruption of the silence and immobility of nature. - They were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something terrible - impending. -

-

- He gave a great start of fright. A colossal and formless something - was rushing across the field of his vision. It was a tree-shadow - flung by the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away. - Reassured, he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for - fear that it might attract the attention of the lurking dangers. -

-

- A tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise. It - was directly above him. He yelped in his fright. A panic seized him, - and he ran madly toward the village. He knew an overpowering desire - for the protection and companionship of man. In his nostrils was the - smell of the camp-smoke. In his ears the camp-sounds and cries were - ringing loud. He passed out of the forest and into the moonlit open - where were no shadows nor darknesses. But no village greeted his - eyes. He had forgotten. The village had gone away. -

-

- His wild flight ceased abruptly. There was no place to which to - flee. He slunk forlornly through the deserted camp, smelling the - rubbish-heaps and the discarded rags and tags of the gods. He would - have been glad for the rattle of stones about him, flung by an angry - squaw, glad for the hand of Grey Beaver descending upon him in - wrath; while he would have welcomed with delight Lip-lip and the - whole snarling, cowardly pack. -

-

- He came to where Grey Beaver’s tepee had stood. In the centre of the - space it had occupied, he sat down. He pointed his nose at the moon. - His throat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his mouth opened, and in a - heart-broken cry bubbled up his loneliness and fear, his grief for - Kiche, all his past sorrows and miseries as well as his apprehension - of sufferings and dangers to come. It was the long wolf-howl, - full-throated and mournful, the first howl he had ever uttered. -

-

- The coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his - loneliness. The naked earth, which so shortly before had been so - populous; thrust his loneliness more forcibly upon him. It did not - take him long to make up his mind. He plunged into the forest and - followed the river bank down the stream. All day he ran. He did not - rest. He seemed made to run on for ever. His iron-like body ignored - fatigue. And even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance - braced him to endless endeavour and enabled him to drive his - complaining body onward. -

-

- Where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs, he climbed the - high mountains behind. Rivers and streams that entered the main - river he forded or swam. Often he took to the rim-ice that was - beginning to form, and more than once he crashed through and - struggled for life in the icy current. Always he was on the lookout - for the trail of the gods where it might leave the river and proceed - inland. -

-

- White Fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind; yet his - mental vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the - Mackenzie. What if the trail of the gods led out on that side? It - never entered his head. Later on, when he had travelled more and - grown older and wiser and come to know more of trails and rivers, it - might be that he could grasp and apprehend such a possibility. But - that mental power was yet in the future. Just now he ran blindly, - his own bank of the Mackenzie alone entering into his calculations. -

-

- All night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and - obstacles that delayed but did not daunt. By the middle of the - second day he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and - the iron of his flesh was giving out. It was the endurance of his - mind that kept him going. He had not eaten in forty hours, and he - was weak with hunger. The repeated drenchings in the icy water had - likewise had their effect on him. His handsome coat was draggled. - The broad pads of his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had begun - to limp, and this limp increased with the hours. To make it worse, - the light of the sky was obscured and snow began to fall—a raw, - moist, melting, clinging snow, slippery under foot, that hid from - him the landscape he traversed, and that covered over the - inequalities of the ground so that the way of his feet was more - difficult and painful. -

-

- Grey Beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the - Mackenzie, for it was in that direction that the hunting lay. But on - the near bank, shortly before dark, a moose coming down to drink, - had been espied by Kloo-kooch, who was Grey Beaver’s squaw. Now, had - not the moose come down to drink, had not Mit-sah been steering out - of the course because of the snow, had not Kloo-kooch sighted the - moose, and had not Grey Beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his - rifle, all subsequent things would have happened differently. Grey - Beaver would not have camped on the near side of the Mackenzie, and - White Fang would have passed by and gone on, either to die or to - find his way to his wild brothers and become one of them—a wolf to - the end of his days. -

-

- Night had fallen. The snow was flying more thickly, and White Fang, - whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along, came - upon a fresh trail in the snow. So fresh was it that he knew it - immediately for what it was. Whining with eagerness, he followed - back from the river bank and in among the trees. The camp-sounds - came to his ears. He saw the blaze of the fire, Kloo-kooch cooking, - and Grey Beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk of raw - tallow. There was fresh meat in camp! -

-

- White Fang expected a beating. He crouched and bristled a little at - the thought of it. Then he went forward again. He feared and - disliked the beating he knew to be waiting for him. But he knew, - further, that the comfort of the fire would be his, the protection - of the gods, the companionship of the dogs—the last, a companionship - of enmity, but none the less a companionship and satisfying to his - gregarious needs. -

-

- He came cringing and crawling into the firelight. Grey Beaver saw - him, and stopped munching the tallow. White Fang crawled slowly, - cringing and grovelling in the abjectness of his abasement and - submission. He crawled straight toward Grey Beaver, every inch of - his progress becoming slower and more painful. At last he lay at the - master’s feet, into whose possession he now surrendered himself, - voluntarily, body and soul. Of his own choice, he came in to sit by - man’s fire and to be ruled by him. White Fang trembled, waiting for - the punishment to fall upon him. There was a movement of the hand - above him. He cringed involuntarily under the expected blow. It did - not fall. He stole a glance upward. Grey Beaver was breaking the - lump of tallow in half! Grey Beaver was offering him one piece of - the tallow! Very gently and somewhat suspiciously, he first smelled - the tallow and then proceeded to eat it. Grey Beaver ordered meat to - be brought to him, and guarded him from the other dogs while he ate. - After that, grateful and content, White Fang lay at Grey Beaver’s - feet, gazing at the fire that warmed him, blinking and dozing, - secure in the knowledge that the morrow would find him, not - wandering forlorn through bleak forest-stretches, but in the camp of - the man-animals, with the gods to whom he had given himself and upon - whom he was now dependent. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VThe Covenant -

-

- When December was well along, Grey Beaver went on a journey up the - Mackenzie. Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch went with him. One sled he drove - himself, drawn by dogs he had traded for or borrowed. A second and - smaller sled was driven by Mit-sah, and to this was harnessed a team - of puppies. It was more of a toy affair than anything else, yet it - was the delight of Mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to do a - man’s work in the world. Also, he was learning to drive dogs and to - train dogs; while the puppies themselves were being broken in to the - harness. Furthermore, the sled was of some service, for it carried - nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and food. -

-

- White Fang had seen the camp-dogs toiling in the harness, so that he - did not resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon - himself. About his neck was put a moss-stuffed collar, which was - connected by two pulling-traces to a strap that passed around his - chest and over his back. It was to this that was fastened the long - rope by which he pulled at the sled. -

-

- There were seven puppies in the team. The others had been born - earlier in the year and were nine and ten months old, while White - Fang was only eight months old. Each dog was fastened to the sled by - a single rope. No two ropes were of the same length, while the - difference in length between any two ropes was at least that of a - dog’s body. Every rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the - sled. The sled itself was without runners, being a birch-bark - toboggan, with upturned forward end to keep it from ploughing under - the snow. This construction enabled the weight of the sled and load - to be distributed over the largest snow-surface; for the snow was - crystal-powder and very soft. Observing the same principle of widest - distribution of weight, the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated - fan-fashion from the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in - another’s footsteps. -

-

- There was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation. The - ropes of varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear - those that ran in front of them. For a dog to attack another, it - would have to turn upon one at a shorter rope. In which case it - would find itself face to face with the dog attacked, and also it - would find itself facing the whip of the driver. But the most - peculiar virtue of all lay in the fact that the dog that strove to - attack one in front of him must pull the sled faster, and that the - faster the sled travelled, the faster could the dog attacked run - away. Thus, the dog behind could never catch up with the one in - front. The faster he ran, the faster ran the one he was after, and - the faster ran all the dogs. Incidentally, the sled went faster, and - thus, by cunning indirection, did man increase his mastery over the - beasts. -

-

- Mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he - possessed. In the past he had observed Lip-lip’s persecution of - White Fang; but at that time Lip-lip was another man’s dog, and - Mit-sah had never dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him. - But now Lip-lip was his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance - on him by putting him at the end of the longest rope. This made - Lip-lip the leader, and was apparently an honour! but in reality it - took away from him all honour, and instead of being bully and master - of the pack, he now found himself hated and persecuted by the pack. -

-

- Because he ran at the end of the longest rope, the dogs had always - the view of him running away before them. All that they saw of him - was his bushy tail and fleeing hind legs—a view far less ferocious - and intimidating than his bristling mane and gleaming fangs. Also, - dogs being so constituted in their mental ways, the sight of him - running away gave desire to run after him and a feeling that he ran - away from them. -

-

- The moment the sled started, the team took after Lip-lip in a chase - that extended throughout the day. At first he had been prone to turn - upon his pursuers, jealous of his dignity and wrathful; but at such - times Mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot - cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run - on. Lip-lip might face the pack, but he could not face that whip, - and all that was left him to do was to keep his long rope taut and - his flanks ahead of the teeth of his mates. -

-

- But a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the Indian - mind. To give point to unending pursuit of the leader, Mit-sah - favoured him over the other dogs. These favours aroused in them - jealousy and hatred. In their presence Mit-sah would give him meat - and would give it to him only. This was maddening to them. They - would rage around just outside the throwing-distance of the whip, - while Lip-lip devoured the meat and Mit-sah protected him. And when - there was no meat to give, Mit-sah would keep the team at a distance - and make believe to give meat to Lip-lip. -

-

- White Fang took kindly to the work. He had travelled a greater - distance than the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule - of the gods, and he had learned more thoroughly the futility of - opposing their will. In addition, the persecution he had suffered - from the pack had made the pack less to him in the scheme of things, - and man more. He had not learned to be dependent on his kind for - companionship. Besides, Kiche was well-nigh forgotten; and the chief - outlet of expression that remained to him was in the allegiance he - tendered the gods he had accepted as masters. So he worked hard, - learned discipline, and was obedient. Faithfulness and willingness - characterised his toil. These are essential traits of the wolf and - the wild-dog when they have become domesticated, and these traits - White Fang possessed in unusual measure. -

-

- A companionship did exist between White Fang and the other dogs, but - it was one of warfare and enmity. He had never learned to play with - them. He knew only how to fight, and fight with them he did, - returning to them a hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they had - given him in the days when Lip-lip was leader of the pack. But - Lip-lip was no longer leader—except when he fled away before his - mates at the end of his rope, the sled bounding along behind. In - camp he kept close to Mit-sah or Grey Beaver or Kloo-kooch. He did - not dare venture away from the gods, for now the fangs of all dogs - were against him, and he tasted to the dregs the persecution that - had been White Fang’s. -

-

- With the overthrow of Lip-lip, White Fang could have become leader - of the pack. But he was too morose and solitary for that. He merely - thrashed his team-mates. Otherwise he ignored them. They got out of - his way when he came along; nor did the boldest of them ever dare to - rob him of his meat. On the contrary, they devoured their own meat - hurriedly, for fear that he would take it away from them. White Fang - knew the law well: to oppress the weak and obey the strong. - He ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could. And then woe the - dog that had not yet finished! A snarl and a flash of fangs, and - that dog would wail his indignation to the uncomforting stars while - White Fang finished his portion for him. -

-

- Every little while, however, one dog or another would flame up in - revolt and be promptly subdued. Thus White Fang was kept in - training. He was jealous of the isolation in which he kept himself - in the midst of the pack, and he fought often to maintain it. But - such fights were of brief duration. He was too quick for the others. - They were slashed open and bleeding before they knew what had - happened, were whipped almost before they had begun to fight. -

-

- As rigid as the sled-discipline of the gods, was the discipline - maintained by White Fang amongst his fellows. He never allowed them - any latitude. He compelled them to an unremitting respect for him. - They might do as they pleased amongst themselves. That was no - concern of his. But it was his concern that they leave him - alone in his isolation, get out of his way when he elected to walk - among them, and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them. A - hint of stiff-leggedness on their part, a lifted lip or a bristle of - hair, and he would be upon them, merciless and cruel, swiftly - convincing them of the error of their way. -

-

- He was a monstrous tyrant. His mastery was rigid as steel. He - oppressed the weak with a vengeance. Not for nothing had he been - exposed to the pitiless struggles for life in the day of his - cubhood, when his mother and he, alone and unaided, held their own - and survived in the ferocious environment of the Wild. And not for - nothing had he learned to walk softly when superior strength went - by. He oppressed the weak, but he respected the strong. And in the - course of the long journey with Grey Beaver he walked softly indeed - amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals - they encountered. -

-

- The months passed by. Still continued the journey of Grey Beaver. - White Fang’s strength was developed by the long hours on trail and - the steady toil at the sled; and it would have seemed that his - mental development was well-nigh complete. He had come to know quite - thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak and - materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, - a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and - the bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist. -

-

- He had no affection for Grey Beaver. True, he was a god, but a most - savage god. White Fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship, but it - was a lordship based upon superior intelligence and brute strength. - There was something in the fibre of White Fang’s being that made his - lordship a thing to be desired, else he would not have come back - from the Wild when he did to tender his allegiance. There were deeps - in his nature which had never been sounded. A kind word, a caressing - touch of the hand, on the part of Grey Beaver, might have sounded - these deeps; but Grey Beaver did not caress, nor speak kind words. - It was not his way. His primacy was savage, and savagely he ruled, - administering justice with a club, punishing transgression with the - pain of a blow, and rewarding merit, not by kindness, but by - withholding a blow. -

-

- So White Fang knew nothing of the heaven a man’s hand might contain - for him. Besides, he did not like the hands of the man-animals. He - was suspicious of them. It was true that they sometimes gave meat, - but more often they gave hurt. Hands were things to keep away from. - They hurled stones, wielded sticks and clubs and whips, administered - slaps and clouts, and, when they touched him, were cunning to hurt - with pinch and twist and wrench. In strange villages he had - encountered the hands of the children and learned that they were - cruel to hurt. Also, he had once nearly had an eye poked out by a - toddling papoose. From these experiences he became suspicious of all - children. He could not tolerate them. When they came near with their - ominous hands, he got up. -

-

- It was in a village at the Great Slave Lake, that, in the course of - resenting the evil of the hands of the man-animals, he came to - modify the law that he had learned from Grey Beaver: namely, that - the unpardonable crime was to bite one of the gods. In this village, - after the custom of all dogs in all villages, White Fang went - foraging, for food. A boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an - axe, and the chips were flying in the snow. White Fang, sliding by - in quest of meat, stopped and began to eat the chips. He observed - the boy lay down the axe and take up a stout club. White Fang sprang - clear, just in time to escape the descending blow. The boy pursued - him, and he, a stranger in the village, fled between two tepees to - find himself cornered against a high earth bank. -

-

- There was no escape for White Fang. The only way out was between the - two tepees, and this the boy guarded. Holding his club prepared to - strike, he drew in on his cornered quarry. White Fang was furious. - He faced the boy, bristling and snarling, his sense of justice - outraged. He knew the law of forage. All the wastage of meat, such - as the frozen chips, belonged to the dog that found it. He had done - no wrong, broken no law, yet here was this boy preparing to give him - a beating. White Fang scarcely knew what happened. He did it in a - surge of rage. And he did it so quickly that the boy did not know - either. All the boy knew was that he had in some unaccountable way - been overturned into the snow, and that his club-hand had been - ripped wide open by White Fang’s teeth. -

-

- But White Fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods. He had - driven his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them, and could - expect nothing but a most terrible punishment. He fled away to Grey - Beaver, behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten boy - and the boy’s family came, demanding vengeance. But they went away - with vengeance unsatisfied. Grey Beaver defended White Fang. So did - Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch. White Fang, listening to the wordy war and - watching the angry gestures, knew that his act was justified. And so - it came that he learned there were gods and gods. There were his - gods, and there were other gods, and between them there was a - difference. Justice or injustice, it was all the same, he must take - all things from the hands of his own gods. But he was not compelled - to take injustice from the other gods. It was his privilege to - resent it with his teeth. And this also was a law of the gods. -

-

- Before the day was out, White Fang was to learn more about this law. - Mit-sah, alone, gathering firewood in the forest, encountered the - boy that had been bitten. With him were other boys. Hot words - passed. Then all the boys attacked Mit-sah. It was going hard with - him. Blows were raining upon him from all sides. White Fang looked - on at first. This was an affair of the gods, and no concern of his. - Then he realised that this was Mit-sah, one of his own particular - gods, who was being maltreated. It was no reasoned impulse that made - White Fang do what he then did. A mad rush of anger sent him leaping - in amongst the combatants. Five minutes later the landscape was - covered with fleeing boys, many of whom dripped blood upon the snow - in token that White Fang’s teeth had not been idle. When Mit-sah - told the story in camp, Grey Beaver ordered meat to be given to - White Fang. He ordered much meat to be given, and White Fang, gorged - and sleepy by the fire, knew that the law had received its - verification. -

-

- It was in line with these experiences that White Fang came to learn - the law of property and the duty of the defence of property. From - the protection of his god’s body to the protection of his god’s - possessions was a step, and this step he made. What was his god’s - was to be defended against all the world—even to the extent of - biting other gods. Not only was such an act sacrilegious in its - nature, but it was fraught with peril. The gods were all-powerful, - and a dog was no match against them; yet White Fang learned to face - them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid. Duty rose above fear, and - thieving gods learned to leave Grey Beaver’s property alone. -

-

- One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt, and that - was that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run - away at the sounding of the alarm. Also, he learned that but brief - time elapsed between his sounding of the alarm and Grey Beaver - coming to his aid. He came to know that it was not fear of him that - drove the thief away, but fear of Grey Beaver. White Fang did not - give the alarm by barking. He never barked. His method was to drive - straight at the intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he could. - Because he was morose and solitary, having nothing to do with the - other dogs, he was unusually fitted to guard his master’s property; - and in this he was encouraged and trained by Grey Beaver. One result - of this was to make White Fang more ferocious and indomitable, and - more solitary. -

-

- The months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant - between dog and man. This was the ancient covenant that the first - wolf that came in from the Wild entered into with man. And, like all - succeeding wolves and wild dogs that had done likewise, White Fang - worked the covenant out for himself. The terms were simple. For the - possession of a flesh-and-blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. - Food and fire, protection and companionship, were some of the things - he received from the god. In return, he guarded the god’s property, - defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him. -

-

- The possession of a god implies service. White Fang’s was a service - of duty and awe, but not of love. He did not know what love was. He - had no experience of love. Kiche was a remote memory. Besides, not - only had he abandoned the Wild and his kind when he gave himself up - to man, but the terms of the covenant were such that if ever he met - Kiche again he would not desert his god to go with her. His - allegiance to man seemed somehow a law of his being greater than the - love of liberty, of kind and kin. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VIThe Famine -

-

- The spring of the year was at hand when Grey Beaver finished his - long journey. It was April, and White Fang was a year old when he - pulled into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by - Mit-sah. Though a long way from his full growth, White Fang, next to - Lip-lip, was the largest yearling in the village. Both from his - father, the wolf, and from Kiche, he had inherited stature and - strength, and already he was measuring up alongside the full-grown - dogs. But he had not yet grown compact. His body was slender and - rangy, and his strength more stringy than massive, His coat was the - true wolf-grey, and to all appearances he was true wolf himself. The - quarter-strain of dog he had inherited from Kiche had left no mark - on him physically, though it had played its part in his mental - make-up. -

-

- He wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfaction - the various gods he had known before the long journey. Then there - were the dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that - did not look so large and formidable as the memory pictures he - retained of them. Also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, - stalking among them with a certain careless ease that was as new to - him as it was enjoyable. -

-

- There was Baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days had - but to uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching - to the right about. From him White Fang had learned much of his own - insignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change - and development that had taken place in himself. While Baseek had - been growing weaker with age, White Fang had been growing stronger - with youth. -

-

- It was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that White Fang - learned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog-world. - He had got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which - quite a bit of meat was attached. Withdrawn from the immediate - scramble of the other dogs—in fact out of sight behind a thicket—he - was devouring his prize, when Baseek rushed in upon him. Before he - knew what he was doing, he had slashed the intruder twice and sprung - clear. Baseek was surprised by the other’s temerity and swiftness of - attack. He stood, gazing stupidly across at White Fang, the raw, red - shin-bone between them. -

-

- Baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasing - valour of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. Bitter experiences - these, which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to - cope with them. In the old days he would have sprung upon White Fang - in a fury of righteous wrath. But now his waning powers would not - permit such a course. He bristled fiercely and looked ominously - across the shin-bone at White Fang. And White Fang, resurrecting - quite a deal of the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon - himself and grow small, as he cast about in his mind for a way to - beat a retreat not too inglorious. -

-

- And right here Baseek erred. Had he contented himself with looking - fierce and ominous, all would have been well. White Fang, on the - verge of retreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. But - Baseek did not wait. He considered the victory already his and - stepped forward to the meat. As he bent his head carelessly to smell - it, White Fang bristled slightly. Even then it was not too late for - Baseek to retrieve the situation. Had he merely stood over the meat, - head up and glowering, White Fang would ultimately have slunk away. - But the fresh meat was strong in Baseek’s nostrils, and greed urged - him to take a bite of it. -

-

- This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of mastery - over his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand - idly by while another devoured the meat that belonged to him. He - struck, after his custom, without warning. With the first slash, - Baseek’s right ear was ripped into ribbons. He was astounded at the - suddenness of it. But more things, and most grievous ones, were - happening with equal suddenness. He was knocked off his feet. His - throat was bitten. While he was struggling to his feet the young dog - sank teeth twice into his shoulder. The swiftness of it was - bewildering. He made a futile rush at White Fang, clipping the empty - air with an outraged snap. The next moment his nose was laid open, - and he was staggering backward away from the meat. -

-

- The situation was now reversed. White Fang stood over the shin-bone, - bristling and menacing, while Baseek stood a little way off, - preparing to retreat. He dared not risk a fight with this young - lightning-flash, and again he knew, and more bitterly, the - enfeeblement of oncoming age. His attempt to maintain his dignity - was heroic. Calmly turning his back upon young dog and shin-bone, as - though both were beneath his notice and unworthy of his - consideration, he stalked grandly away. Nor, until well out of - sight, did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds. -

-

- The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself, - and a greater pride. He walked less softly among the grown dogs; his - attitude toward them was less compromising. Not that he went out of - his way looking for trouble. Far from it. But upon his way he - demanded consideration. He stood upon his right to go his way - unmolested and to give trail to no dog. He had to be taken into - account, that was all. He was no longer to be disregarded and - ignored, as was the lot of puppies, and as continued to be the lot - of the puppies that were his team-mates. They got out of the way, - gave trail to the grown dogs, and gave up meat to them under - compulsion. But White Fang, uncompanionable, solitary, morose, - scarcely looking to right or left, redoubtable, forbidding of - aspect, remote and alien, was accepted as an equal by his puzzled - elders. They quickly learned to leave him alone, neither venturing - hostile acts nor making overtures of friendliness. If they left him - alone, he left them alone—a state of affairs that they found, after - a few encounters, to be pre-eminently desirable. -

-

- In midsummer White Fang had an experience. Trotting along in his - silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on the - edge of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose, - he came full upon Kiche. He paused and looked at her. He remembered - her vaguely, but he remembered her, and that was more than - could be said for her. She lifted her lip at him in the old snarl of - menace, and his memory became clear. His forgotten cubhood, all that - was associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. Before - he had known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of the - universe. The old familiar feelings of that time came back upon him, - surged up within him. He bounded towards her joyously, and she met - him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to the bone. He did - not understand. He backed away, bewildered and puzzled. -

-

- But it was not Kiche’s fault. A wolf-mother was not made to remember - her cubs of a year or so before. So she did not remember White Fang. - He was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present litter of - puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion. -

-

- One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang. They were - half-brothers, only they did not know it. White Fang sniffed the - puppy curiously, whereupon Kiche rushed upon him, gashing his face a - second time. He backed farther away. All the old memories and - associations died down again and passed into the grave from which - they had been resurrected. He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and - stopping now and then to snarl at him. She was without value to him. - He had learned to get along without her. Her meaning was forgotten. - There was no place for her in his scheme of things, as there was no - place for him in hers. -

-

- He was still standing, stupid and bewildered, the memories - forgotten, wondering what it was all about, when Kiche attacked him - a third time, intent on driving him away altogether from the - vicinity. And White Fang allowed himself to be driven away. This was - a female of his kind, and it was a law of his kind that the males - must not fight the females. He did not know anything about this law, - for it was no generalisation of the mind, not a something acquired - by experience of the world. He knew it as a secret prompting, as an - urge of instinct—of the same instinct that made him howl at the moon - and stars of nights, and that made him fear death and the unknown. -

-

- The months went by. White Fang grew stronger, heavier, and more - compact, while his character was developing along the lines laid - down by his heredity and his environment. His heredity was a - life-stuff that may be likened to clay. It possessed many - possibilities, was capable of being moulded into many different - forms. Environment served to model the clay, to give it a particular - form. Thus, had White Fang never come in to the fires of man, the - Wild would have moulded him into a true wolf. But the gods had given - him a different environment, and he was moulded into a dog that was - rather wolfish, but that was a dog and not a wolf. -

-

- And so, according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his - surroundings, his character was being moulded into a certain - particular shape. There was no escaping it. He was becoming more - morose, more uncompanionable, more solitary, more ferocious; while - the dogs were learning more and more that it was better to be at - peace with him than at war, and Grey Beaver was coming to prize him - more greatly with the passage of each day. -

-

- White Fang, seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities, - nevertheless suffered from one besetting weakness. He could not - stand being laughed at. The laughter of men was a hateful thing. - They might laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except - himself, and he did not mind. But the moment laughter was turned - upon him he would fly into a most terrible rage. Grave, dignified, - sombre, a laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness. It so outraged - him and upset him that for hours he would behave like a demon. And - woe to the dog that at such times ran foul of him. He knew the law - too well to take it out of Grey Beaver; behind Grey Beaver were a - club and godhead. But behind the dogs there was nothing but space, - and into this space they flew when White Fang came on the scene, - made mad by laughter. -

-

- In the third year of his life there came a great famine to the - Mackenzie Indians. In the summer the fish failed. In the winter the - cariboo forsook their accustomed track. Moose were scarce, the - rabbits almost disappeared, hunting and preying animals perished. - Denied their usual food-supply, weakened by hunger, they fell upon - and devoured one another. Only the strong survived. White Fang’s - gods were always hunting animals. The old and the weak of them died - of hunger. There was wailing in the village, where the women and - children went without in order that what little they had might go - into the bellies of the lean and hollow-eyed hunters who trod the - forest in the vain pursuit of meat. -

-

- To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft-tanned - leather of their mocassins and mittens, while the dogs ate the - harnesses off their backs and the very whip-lashes. Also, the dogs - ate one another, and also the gods ate the dogs. The weakest and the - more worthless were eaten first. The dogs that still lived, looked - on and understood. A few of the boldest and wisest forsook the fires - of the gods, which had now become a shambles, and fled into the - forest, where, in the end, they starved to death or were eaten by - wolves. -

-

- In this time of misery, White Fang, too, stole away into the woods. - He was better fitted for the life than the other dogs, for he had - the training of his cubhood to guide him. Especially adept did he - become in stalking small living things. He would lie concealed for - hours, following every movement of a cautious tree-squirrel, - waiting, with a patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from, - until the squirrel ventured out upon the ground. Even then, White - Fang was not premature. He waited until he was sure of striking - before the squirrel could gain a tree-refuge. Then, and not until - then, would he flash from his hiding-place, a grey projectile, - incredibly swift, never failing its mark—the fleeing squirrel that - fled not fast enough. -

-

- Successful as he was with squirrels, there was one difficulty that - prevented him from living and growing fat on them. There were not - enough squirrels. So he was driven to hunt still smaller things. So - acute did his hunger become at times that he was not above rooting - out wood-mice from their burrows in the ground. Nor did he scorn to - do battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times more - ferocious. -

-

- In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of the - gods. But he did not go into the fires. He lurked in the forest, - avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals when - game was caught. He even robbed Grey Beaver’s snare of a rabbit at a - time when Grey Beaver staggered and tottered through the forest, - sitting down often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness of - breath. -

-

- One day While Fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, - loose-jointed with famine. Had he not been hungry himself, White - Fang might have gone with him and eventually found his way into the - pack amongst his wild brethren. As it was, he ran the young wolf - down and killed and ate him. -

-

- Fortune seemed to favour him. Always, when hardest pressed for food, - he found something to kill. Again, when he was weak, it was his luck - that none of the larger preying animals chanced upon him. Thus, he - was strong from the two days’ eating a lynx had afforded him when - the hungry wolf-pack ran full tilt upon him. It was a long, cruel - chase, but he was better nourished than they, and in the end outran - them. And not only did he outrun them, but, circling widely back on - his track, he gathered in one of his exhausted pursuers. -

-

- After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to - the valley wherein he had been born. Here, in the old lair, he - encountered Kiche. Up to her old tricks, she, too, had fled the - inhospitable fires of the gods and gone back to her old refuge to - give birth to her young. Of this litter but one remained alive when - White Fang came upon the scene, and this one was not destined to - live long. Young life had little chance in such a famine. -

-

- Kiche’s greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate. But - White Fang did not mind. He had outgrown his mother. So he turned - tail philosophically and trotted on up the stream. At the forks he - took the turning to the left, where he found the lair of the lynx - with whom his mother and he had fought long before. Here, in the - abandoned lair, he settled down and rested for a day. -

-

- During the early summer, in the last days of the famine, he met - Lip-lip, who had likewise taken to the woods, where he had eked out - a miserable existence. -

-

- White Fang came upon him unexpectedly. Trotting in opposite - directions along the base of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of - rock and found themselves face to face. They paused with instant - alarm, and looked at each other suspiciously. -

-

- White Fang was in splendid condition. His hunting had been good, and - for a week he had eaten his fill. He was even gorged from his latest - kill. But in the moment he looked at Lip-lip his hair rose on end - all along his back. It was an involuntary bristling on his part, the - physical state that in the past had always accompanied the mental - state produced in him by Lip-lip’s bullying and persecution. As in - the past he had bristled and snarled at sight of Lip-lip, so now, - and automatically, he bristled and snarled. He did not waste any - time. The thing was done thoroughly and with despatch. Lip-lip - essayed to back away, but White Fang struck him hard, shoulder to - shoulder. Lip-lip was overthrown and rolled upon his back. White - Fang’s teeth drove into the scrawny throat. There was a - death-struggle, during which White Fang walked around, stiff-legged - and observant. Then he resumed his course and trotted on along the - base of the bluff. -

-

- One day, not long after, he came to the edge of the forest, where a - narrow stretch of open land sloped down to the Mackenzie. He had - been over this ground before, when it was bare, but now a village - occupied it. Still hidden amongst the trees, he paused to study the - situation. Sights and sounds and scents were familiar to him. It was - the old village changed to a new place. But sights and sounds and - smells were different from those he had last had when he fled away - from it. There was no whimpering nor wailing. Contented sounds - saluted his ear, and when he heard the angry voice of a woman he - knew it to be the anger that proceeds from a full stomach. And there - was a smell in the air of fish. There was food. The famine was gone. - He came out boldly from the forest and trotted into camp straight to - Grey Beaver’s tepee. Grey Beaver was not there; but Kloo-kooch - welcomed him with glad cries and the whole of a fresh-caught fish, - and he lay down to wait Grey Beaver’s coming. -

-
-
-
-

Part IV

-
-

- Chapter IThe Enemy of His Kind -

-

- Had there been in White Fang’s nature any possibility, no matter how - remote, of his ever coming to fraternise with his kind, such - possibility was irretrievably destroyed when he was made leader of - the sled-team. For now the dogs hated him—hated him for the extra - meat bestowed upon him by Mit-sah; hated him for all the real and - fancied favours he received; hated him for that he fled always at - the head of the team, his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually - retreating hind-quarters for ever maddening their eyes. -

-

- And White Fang just as bitterly hated them back. Being sled-leader - was anything but gratifying to him. To be compelled to run away - before the yelling pack, every dog of which, for three years, he had - thrashed and mastered, was almost more than he could endure. But - endure it he must, or perish, and the life that was in him had no - desire to perish out. The moment Mit-sah gave his order for the - start, that moment the whole team, with eager, savage cries, sprang - forward at White Fang. -

-

- There was no defence for him. If he turned upon them, Mit-sah would - throw the stinging lash of the whip into his face. Only remained to - him to run away. He could not encounter that howling horde with his - tail and hind-quarters. These were scarcely fit weapons with which - to meet the many merciless fangs. So run away he did, violating his - own nature and pride with every leap he made, and leaping all day - long. -

-

- One cannot violate the promptings of one’s nature without having - that nature recoil upon itself. Such a recoil is like that of a - hair, made to grow out from the body, turning unnaturally upon the - direction of its growth and growing into the body—a rankling, - festering thing of hurt. And so with White Fang. Every urge of his - being impelled him to spring upon the pack that cried at his heels, - but it was the will of the gods that this should not be; and behind - the will, to enforce it, was the whip of cariboo-gut with its biting - thirty-foot lash. So White Fang could only eat his heart in - bitterness and develop a hatred and malice commensurate with the - ferocity and indomitability of his nature. -

-

- If ever a creature was the enemy of its kind, White Fang was that - creature. He asked no quarter, gave none. He was continually marred - and scarred by the teeth of the pack, and as continually he left his - own marks upon the pack. Unlike most leaders, who, when camp was - made and the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to the gods for - protection, White Fang disdained such protection. He walked boldly - about the camp, inflicting punishment in the night for what he had - suffered in the day. In the time before he was made leader of the - team, the pack had learned to get out of his way. But now it was - different. Excited by the day-long pursuit of him, swayed - subconsciously by the insistent iteration on their brains of the - sight of him fleeing away, mastered by the feeling of mastery - enjoyed all day, the dogs could not bring themselves to give way to - him. When he appeared amongst them, there was always a squabble. His - progress was marked by snarl and snap and growl. The very atmosphere - he breathed was surcharged with hatred and malice, and this but - served to increase the hatred and malice within him. -

-

- When Mit-sah cried out his command for the team to stop, White Fang - obeyed. At first this caused trouble for the other dogs. All of them - would spring upon the hated leader only to find the tables turned. - Behind him would be Mit-sah, the great whip singing in his hand. So - the dogs came to understand that when the team stopped by order, - White Fang was to be let alone. But when White Fang stopped without - orders, then it was allowed them to spring upon him and destroy him - if they could. After several experiences, White Fang never stopped - without orders. He learned quickly. It was in the nature of things, - that he must learn quickly if he were to survive the unusually - severe conditions under which life was vouchsafed him. -

-

- But the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in - camp. Each day, pursuing him and crying defiance at him, the lesson - of the previous night was erased, and that night would have to be - learned over again, to be as immediately forgotten. Besides, there - was a greater consistence in their dislike of him. They sensed - between themselves and him a difference of kind—cause sufficient in - itself for hostility. Like him, they were domesticated wolves. But - they had been domesticated for generations. Much of the Wild had - been lost, so that to them the Wild was the unknown, the terrible, - the ever-menacing and ever warring. But to him, in appearance and - action and impulse, still clung the Wild. He symbolised it, was its - personification: so that when they showed their teeth to him they - were defending themselves against the powers of destruction that - lurked in the shadows of the forest and in the dark beyond the - camp-fire. -

-

- But there was one lesson the dogs did learn, and that was to keep - together. White Fang was too terrible for any of them to face - single-handed. They met him with the mass-formation, otherwise he - would have killed them, one by one, in a night. As it was, he never - had a chance to kill them. He might roll a dog off its feet, but the - pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver the - deadly throat-stroke. At the first hint of conflict, the whole team - drew together and faced him. The dogs had quarrels among themselves, - but these were forgotten when trouble was brewing with White Fang. -

-

- On the other hand, try as they would, they could not kill White - Fang. He was too quick for them, too formidable, too wise. He - avoided tight places and always backed out of it when they bade fair - to surround him. While, as for getting him off his feet, there was - no dog among them capable of doing the trick. His feet clung to the - earth with the same tenacity that he clung to life. For that matter, - life and footing were synonymous in this unending warfare with the - pack, and none knew it better than White Fang. -

-

- So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they - were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering - shadow of man’s strength. White Fang was bitter and implacable. The - clay of him was so moulded. He declared a vendetta against all dogs. - And so terribly did he live this vendetta that Grey Beaver, fierce - savage himself, could not but marvel at White Fang’s ferocity. - Never, he swore, had there been the like of this animal; and the - Indians in strange villages swore likewise when they considered the - tale of his killings amongst their dogs. -

-

- When White Fang was nearly five years old, Grey Beaver took him on - another great journey, and long remembered was the havoc he worked - amongst the dogs of the many villages along the Mackenzie, across - the Rockies, and down the Porcupine to the Yukon. He revelled in the - vengeance he wreaked upon his kind. They were ordinary, unsuspecting - dogs. They were not prepared for his swiftness and directness, for - his attack without warning. They did not know him for what he was, a - lightning-flash of slaughter. They bristled up to him, stiff-legged - and challenging, while he, wasting no time on elaborate - preliminaries, snapping into action like a steel spring, was at - their throats and destroying them before they knew what was - happening and while they were yet in the throes of surprise. -

-

- He became an adept at fighting. He economised. He never wasted his - strength, never tussled. He was in too quickly for that, and, if he - missed, was out again too quickly. The dislike of the wolf for close - quarters was his to an unusual degree. He could not endure a - prolonged contact with another body. It smacked of danger. It made - him frantic. He must be away, free, on his own legs, touching no - living thing. It was the Wild still clinging to him, asserting - itself through him. This feeling had been accentuated by the - Ishmaelite life he had led from his puppyhood. Danger lurked in - contacts. It was the trap, ever the trap, the fear of it lurking - deep in the life of him, woven into the fibre of him. -

-

- In consequence, the strange dogs he encountered had no chance - against him. He eluded their fangs. He got them, or got away, - himself untouched in either event. In the natural course of things - there were exceptions to this. There were times when several dogs, - pitching on to him, punished him before he could get away; and there - were times when a single dog scored deeply on him. But these were - accidents. In the main, so efficient a fighter had he become, he - went his way unscathed. -

-

- Another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time - and distance. Not that he did this consciously, however. He did not - calculate such things. It was all automatic. His eyes saw correctly, - and the nerves carried the vision correctly to his brain. The parts - of him were better adjusted than those of the average dog. They - worked together more smoothly and steadily. His was a better, far - better, nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordination. When his eyes - conveyed to his brain the moving image of an action, his brain - without conscious effort, knew the space that limited that action - and the time required for its completion. Thus, he could avoid the - leap of another dog, or the drive of its fangs, and at the same - moment could seize the infinitesimal fraction of time in which to - deliver his own attack. Body and brain, his was a more perfected - mechanism. Not that he was to be praised for it. Nature had been - more generous to him than to the average animal, that was all. -

-

- It was in the summer that White Fang arrived at Fort Yukon. Grey - Beaver had crossed the great watershed between Mackenzie and the - Yukon in the late winter, and spent the spring in hunting among the - western outlying spurs of the Rockies. Then, after the break-up of - the ice on the Porcupine, he had built a canoe and paddled down that - stream to where it effected its junction with the Yukon just under - the Artic circle. Here stood the old Hudson’s Bay Company fort; and - here were many Indians, much food, and unprecedented excitement. It - was the summer of 1898, and thousands of gold-hunters were going up - the Yukon to Dawson and the Klondike. Still hundreds of miles from - their goal, nevertheless many of them had been on the way for a - year, and the least any of them had travelled to get that far was - five thousand miles, while some had come from the other side of the - world. -

-

- Here Grey Beaver stopped. A whisper of the gold-rush had reached his - ears, and he had come with several bales of furs, and another of - gut-sewn mittens and moccasins. He would not have ventured so long a - trip had he not expected generous profits. But what he had expected - was nothing to what he realised. His wildest dreams had not exceeded - a hundred per cent. profit; he made a thousand per cent. And like a - true Indian, he settled down to trade carefully and slowly, even if - it took all summer and the rest of the winter to dispose of his - goods. -

-

- It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw his first white men. As - compared with the Indians he had known, they were to him another - race of beings, a race of superior gods. They impressed him as - possessing superior power, and it is on power that godhead rests. - White Fang did not reason it out, did not in his mind make the sharp - generalisation that the white gods were more powerful. It was a - feeling, nothing more, and yet none the less potent. As, in his - puppyhood, the looming bulks of the tepees, man-reared, had affected - him as manifestations of power, so was he affected now by the houses - and the huge fort all of massive logs. Here was power. Those white - gods were strong. They possessed greater mastery over matter than - the gods he had known, most powerful among which was Grey Beaver. - And yet Grey Beaver was as a child-god among these white-skinned - ones. -

-

- To be sure, White Fang only felt these things. He was not conscious - of them. Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that - animals act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon - the feeling that the white men were the superior gods. In the first - place he was very suspicious of them. There was no telling what - unknown terrors were theirs, what unknown hurts they could - administer. He was curious to observe them, fearful of being noticed - by them. For the first few hours he was content with slinking around - and watching them from a safe distance. Then he saw that no harm - befell the dogs that were near to them, and he came in closer. -

-

- In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. His wolfish - appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to - one another. This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and - when they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. - Not one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they - did not. -

-

- White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods—not more than a - dozen—lived at this place. Every two or three days a steamer - (another and colossal manifestation of power) came into the bank and - stopped for several hours. The white men came from off these - steamers and went away on them again. There seemed untold numbers of - these white men. In the first day or so, he saw more of them than he - had seen Indians in all his life; and as the days went by they - continued to come up the river, stop, and then go on up the river - out of sight. -

-

- But if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount - to much. This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those - that came ashore with their masters. They were irregular shapes and - sizes. Some were short-legged—too short; others were long-legged—too - long. They had hair instead of fur, and a few had very little hair - at that. And none of them knew how to fight. -

-

- As an enemy of his kind, it was in White Fang’s province to fight - with them. This he did, and he quickly achieved for them a mighty - contempt. They were soft and helpless, made much noise, and - floundered around clumsily trying to accomplish by main strength - what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning. They rushed bellowing - at him. He sprang to the side. They did not know what had become of - him; and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder, rolling them - off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat. -

-

- Sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in - the dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of - Indian dogs that waited. White Fang was wise. He had long since - learned that the gods were made angry when their dogs were killed. - The white men were no exception to this. So he was content, when he - had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, to - drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work. It - was then that the white men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily - on the pack, while White Fang went free. He would stand off at a - little distance and look on, while stones, clubs, axes, and all - sorts of weapons fell upon his fellows. White Fang was very wise. -

-

- But his fellows grew wise in their own way; and in this White Fang - grew wise with them. They learned that it was when a steamer first - tied to the bank that they had their fun. After the first two or - three strange dogs had been downed and destroyed, the white men - hustled their own animals back on board and wrecked savage vengeance - on the offenders. One white man, having seen his dog, a setter, torn - to pieces before his eyes, drew a revolver. He fired rapidly, six - times, and six of the pack lay dead or dying—another manifestation - of power that sank deep into White Fang’s consciousness. -

-

- White Fang enjoyed it all. He did not love his kind, and he was - shrewd enough to escape hurt himself. At first, the killing of the - white men’s dogs had been a diversion. After a time it became his - occupation. There was no work for him to do. Grey Beaver was busy - trading and getting wealthy. So White Fang hung around the landing - with the disreputable gang of Indian dogs, waiting for steamers. - With the arrival of a steamer the fun began. After a few minutes, by - the time the white men had got over their surprise, the gang - scattered. The fun was over until the next steamer should arrive. -

-

- But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the - gang. He did not mingle with it, but remained aloof, always himself, - and was even feared by it. It is true, he worked with it. He picked - the quarrel with the strange dog while the gang waited. And when he - had overthrown the strange dog the gang went in to finish it. But it - is equally true that he then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive - the punishment of the outraged gods. -

-

- It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels. All he had - to do, when the strange dogs came ashore, was to show himself. When - they saw him they rushed for him. It was their instinct. He was the - Wild—the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing, the thing that - prowled in the darkness around the fires of the primeval world when - they, cowering close to the fires, were reshaping their instincts, - learning to fear the Wild out of which they had come, and which they - had deserted and betrayed. Generation by generation, down all the - generations, had this fear of the Wild been stamped into their - natures. For centuries the Wild had stood for terror and - destruction. And during all this time free licence had been theirs, - from their masters, to kill the things of the Wild. In doing this - they had protected both themselves and the gods whose companionship - they shared. -

-

- And so, fresh from the soft southern world, these dogs, trotting - down the gang-plank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see - White Fang to experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him - and destroy him. They might be town-reared dogs, but the instinctive - fear of the Wild was theirs just the same. Not alone with their own - eyes did they see the wolfish creature in the clear light of day, - standing before them. They saw him with the eyes of their ancestors, - and by their inherited memory they knew White Fang for the wolf, and - they remembered the ancient feud. -

-

- All of which served to make White Fang’s days enjoyable. If the - sight of him drove these strange dogs upon him, so much the better - for him, so much the worse for them. They looked upon him as - legitimate prey, and as legitimate prey he looked upon them. -

-

- Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair - and fought his first fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel, and the - lynx. And not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by the - persecution of Lip-lip and the whole puppy pack. It might have been - otherwise, and he would then have been otherwise. Had Lip-lip not - existed, he would have passed his puppyhood with the other puppies - and grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs. Had Grey - Beaver possessed the plummet of affection and love, he might have - sounded the deeps of White Fang’s nature and brought up to the - surface all manner of kindly qualities. But these things had not - been so. The clay of White Fang had been moulded until he became - what he was, morose and lonely, unloving and ferocious, the enemy of - all his kind. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIThe Mad God -

-

- A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon. These men had been - long in the country. They called themselves Sour-doughs, and took - great pride in so classifying themselves. For other men, new in the - land, they felt nothing but disdain. The men who came ashore from - the steamers were newcomers. They were known as chechaquos, - and they always wilted at the application of the name. They made - their bread with baking-powder. This was the invidious distinction - between them and the Sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made their bread - from sour-dough because they had no baking-powder. -

-

- All of which is neither here nor there. The men in the fort - disdained the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief. - Especially did they enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers’ - dogs by White Fang and his disreputable gang. When a steamer - arrived, the men of the fort made it a point always to come down to - the bank and see the fun. They looked forward to it with as much - anticipation as did the Indian dogs, while they were not slow to - appreciate the savage and crafty part played by White Fang. -

-

- But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the - sport. He would come running at the first sound of a steamboat’s - whistle; and when the last fight was over and White Fang and the - pack had scattered, he would return slowly to the fort, his face - heavy with regret. Sometimes, when a soft southland dog went down, - shrieking its death-cry under the fangs of the pack, this man would - be unable to contain himself, and would leap into the air and cry - out with delight. And always he had a sharp and covetous eye for - White Fang. -

-

- This man was called “Beauty” by the other men of the fort. No one - knew his first name, and in general he was known in the country as - Beauty Smith. But he was anything save a beauty. To antithesis was - due his naming. He was pre-eminently unbeautiful. Nature had been - niggardly with him. He was a small man to begin with; and upon his - meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly meagre head. Its - apex might be likened to a point. In fact, in his boyhood, before he - had been named Beauty by his fellows, he had been called “Pinhead.” -

-

- Backward, from the apex, his head slanted down to his neck and - forward it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably - wide forehead. Beginning here, as though regretting her parsimony, - Nature had spread his features with a lavish hand. His eyes were - large, and between them was the distance of two eyes. His face, in - relation to the rest of him, was prodigious. In order to discover - the necessary area, Nature had given him an enormous prognathous - jaw. It was wide and heavy, and protruded outward and down until it - seemed to rest on his chest. Possibly this appearance was due to the - weariness of the slender neck, unable properly to support so great a - burden. -

-

- This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination. But - something lacked. Perhaps it was from excess. Perhaps the jaw was - too large. At any rate, it was a lie. Beauty Smith was known far and - wide as the weakest of weak-kneed and snivelling cowards. To - complete his description, his teeth were large and yellow, while the - two eye-teeth, larger than their fellows, showed under his lean lips - like fangs. His eyes were yellow and muddy, as though Nature had run - short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes. - It was the same with his hair, sparse and irregular of growth, - muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting out - of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches, in appearance like - clumped and wind-blown grain. -

-

- In short, Beauty Smith was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay - elsewhere. He was not responsible. The clay of him had been so - moulded in the making. He did the cooking for the other men in the - fort, the dish-washing and the drudgery. They did not despise him. - Rather did they tolerate him in a broad human way, as one tolerates - any creature evilly treated in the making. Also, they feared him. - His cowardly rages made them dread a shot in the back or poison in - their coffee. But somebody had to do the cooking, and whatever else - his shortcomings, Beauty Smith could cook. -

-

- This was the man that looked at White Fang, delighted in his - ferocious prowess, and desired to possess him. He made overtures to - White Fang from the first. White Fang began by ignoring him. Later - on, when the overtures became more insistent, White Fang bristled - and bared his teeth and backed away. He did not like the man. The - feel of him was bad. He sensed the evil in him, and feared the - extended hand and the attempts at soft-spoken speech. Because of all - this, he hated the man. -

-

- With the simpler creatures, good and bad are things simply - understood. The good stands for all things that bring easement and - satisfaction and surcease from pain. Therefore, the good is liked. - The bad stands for all things that are fraught with discomfort, - menace, and hurt, and is hated accordingly. White Fang’s feel of - Beauty Smith was bad. From the man’s distorted body and twisted - mind, in occult ways, like mists rising from malarial marshes, came - emanations of the unhealth within. Not by reasoning, not by the five - senses alone, but by other and remoter and uncharted senses, came - the feeling to White Fang that the man was ominous with evil, - pregnant with hurtfulness, and therefore a thing bad, and wisely to - be hated. -

-

- White Fang was in Grey Beaver’s camp when Beauty Smith first visited - it. At the faint sound of his distant feet, before he came in sight, - White Fang knew who was coming and began to bristle. He had been - lying down in an abandon of comfort, but he arose quickly, and, as - the man arrived, slid away in true wolf-fashion to the edge of the - camp. He did not know what they said, but he could see the man and - Grey Beaver talking together. Once, the man pointed at him, and - White Fang snarled back as though the hand were just descending upon - him instead of being, as it was, fifty feet away. The man laughed at - this; and White Fang slunk away to the sheltering woods, his head - turned to observe as he glided softly over the ground. -

-

- Grey Beaver refused to sell the dog. He had grown rich with his - trading and stood in need of nothing. Besides, White Fang was a - valuable animal, the strongest sled-dog he had ever owned, and the - best leader. Furthermore, there was no dog like him on the Mackenzie - nor the Yukon. He could fight. He killed other dogs as easily as men - killed mosquitoes. (Beauty Smith’s eyes lighted up at this, and he - licked his thin lips with an eager tongue). No, White Fang was not - for sale at any price. -

-

- But Beauty Smith knew the ways of Indians. He visited Grey Beaver’s - camp often, and hidden under his coat was always a black bottle or - so. One of the potencies of whisky is the breeding of thirst. Grey - Beaver got the thirst. His fevered membranes and burnt stomach began - to clamour for more and more of the scorching fluid; while his - brain, thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant, permitted him to - go any length to obtain it. The money he had received for his furs - and mittens and moccasins began to go. It went faster and faster, - and the shorter his money-sack grew, the shorter grew his temper. -

-

- In the end his money and goods and temper were all gone. Nothing - remained to him but his thirst, a prodigious possession in itself - that grew more prodigious with every sober breath he drew. Then it - was that Beauty Smith had talk with him again about the sale of - White Fang; but this time the price offered was in bottles, not - dollars, and Grey Beaver’s ears were more eager to hear. -

-

“You ketch um dog you take um all right,” was his last word.

-

- The bottles were delivered, but after two days. “You ketch um dog,” - were Beauty Smith’s words to Grey Beaver. -

-

- White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh - of content. The dreaded white god was not there. For days his - manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing more - insistent, and during that time White Fang had been compelled to - avoid the camp. He did not know what evil was threatened by those - insistent hands. He knew only that they did threaten evil of some - sort, and that it was best for him to keep out of their reach. -

-

- But scarcely had he lain down when Grey Beaver staggered over to him - and tied a leather thong around his neck. He sat down beside White - Fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. In the other hand he - held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted above his head - to the accompaniment of gurgling noises. -

-

- An hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with - the ground foreran the one who approached. White Fang heard it - first, and he was bristling with recognition while Grey Beaver still - nodded stupidly. White Fang tried to draw the thong softly out of - his master’s hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and Grey - Beaver roused himself. -

-

- Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang. He snarled - softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the deportment of - the hands. One hand extended outward and began to descend upon his - head. His soft snarl grew tense and harsh. The hand continued slowly - to descend, while he crouched beneath it, eyeing it malignantly, his - snarl growing shorter and shorter as, with quickening breath, it - approached its culmination. Suddenly he snapped, striking with his - fangs like a snake. The hand was jerked back, and the teeth came - together emptily with a sharp click. Beauty Smith was frightened and - angry. Grey Beaver clouted White Fang alongside the head, so that he - cowered down close to the earth in respectful obedience. -

-

- White Fang’s suspicious eyes followed every movement. He saw Beauty - Smith go away and return with a stout club. Then the end of the - thong was given over to him by Grey Beaver. Beauty Smith started to - walk away. The thong grew taut. White Fang resisted it. Grey Beaver - clouted him right and left to make him get up and follow. He obeyed, - but with a rush, hurling himself upon the stranger who was dragging - him away. Beauty Smith did not jump away. He had been waiting for - this. He swung the club smartly, stopping the rush midway and - smashing White Fang down upon the ground. Grey Beaver laughed and - nodded approval. Beauty Smith tightened the thong again, and White - Fang crawled limply and dizzily to his feet. -

-

- He did not rush a second time. One smash from the club was - sufficient to convince him that the white god knew how to handle it, - and he was too wise to fight the inevitable. So he followed morosely - at Beauty Smith’s heels, his tail between his legs, yet snarling - softly under his breath. But Beauty Smith kept a wary eye on him, - and the club was held always ready to strike. -

-

- At the fort Beauty Smith left him securely tied and went in to bed. - White Fang waited an hour. Then he applied his teeth to the thong, - and in the space of ten seconds was free. He had wasted no time with - his teeth. There had been no useless gnawing. The thong was cut - across, diagonally, almost as clean as though done by a knife. White - Fang looked up at the fort, at the same time bristling and growling. - Then he turned and trotted back to Grey Beaver’s camp. He owed no - allegiance to this strange and terrible god. He had given himself to - Grey Beaver, and to Grey Beaver he considered he still belonged. -

-

- But what had occurred before was repeated—with a difference. Grey - Beaver again made him fast with a thong, and in the morning turned - him over to Beauty Smith. And here was where the difference came in. - Beauty Smith gave him a beating. Tied securely, White Fang could - only rage futilely and endure the punishment. Club and whip were - both used upon him, and he experienced the worst beating he had ever - received in his life. Even the big beating given him in his - puppyhood by Grey Beaver was mild compared with this. -

-

- Beauty Smith enjoyed the task. He delighted in it. He gloated over - his victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung the whip or club - and listened to White Fang’s cries of pain and to his helpless - bellows and snarls. For Beauty Smith was cruel in the way that - cowards are cruel. Cringing and snivelling himself before the blows - or angry speech of a man, he revenged himself, in turn, upon - creatures weaker than he. All life likes power, and Beauty Smith was - no exception. Denied the expression of power amongst his own kind, - he fell back upon the lesser creatures and there vindicated the life - that was in him. But Beauty Smith had not created himself, and no - blame was to be attached to him. He had come into the world with a - twisted body and a brute intelligence. This had constituted the clay - of him, and it had not been kindly moulded by the world. -

-

- White Fang knew why he was being beaten. When Grey Beaver tied the - thong around his neck, and passed the end of the thong into Beauty - Smith’s keeping, White Fang knew that it was his god’s will for him - to go with Beauty Smith. And when Beauty Smith left him tied outside - the fort, he knew that it was Beauty Smith’s will that he should - remain there. Therefore, he had disobeyed the will of both the gods, - and earned the consequent punishment. He had seen dogs change owners - in the past, and he had seen the runaways beaten as he was being - beaten. He was wise, and yet in the nature of him there were forces - greater than wisdom. One of these was fidelity. He did not love Grey - Beaver, yet, even in the face of his will and his anger, he was - faithful to him. He could not help it. This faithfulness was a - quality of the clay that composed him. It was the quality that was - peculiarly the possession of his kind; the quality that set apart - his species from all other species; the quality that has enabled the - wolf and the wild dog to come in from the open and be the companions - of man. -

-

- After the beating, White Fang was dragged back to the fort. But this - time Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick. One does not give up a - god easily, and so with White Fang. Grey Beaver was his own - particular god, and, in spite of Grey Beaver’s will, White Fang - still clung to him and would not give him up. Grey Beaver had - betrayed and forsaken him, but that had no effect upon him. Not for - nothing had he surrendered himself body and soul to Grey Beaver. - There had been no reservation on White Fang’s part, and the bond was - not to be broken easily. -

-

- So, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, White Fang - applied his teeth to the stick that held him. The wood was seasoned - and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could - scarcely get his teeth to it. It was only by the severest muscular - exertion and neck-arching that he succeeded in getting the wood - between his teeth, and barely between his teeth at that; and it was - only by the exercise of an immense patience, extending through many - hours, that he succeeded in gnawing through the stick. This was - something that dogs were not supposed to do. It was unprecedented. - But White Fang did it, trotting away from the fort in the early - morning, with the end of the stick hanging to his neck. -

-

- He was wise. But had he been merely wise he would not have gone back - to Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him. But there was his - faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third time. - Again he yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck by Grey - Beaver, and again Beauty Smith came to claim him. And this time he - was beaten even more severely than before. -

-

- Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. - He gave no protection. It was no longer his dog. When the beating - was over White Fang was sick. A soft southland dog would have died - under it, but not he. His school of life had been sterner, and he - was himself of sterner stuff. He had too great vitality. His clutch - on life was too strong. But he was very sick. At first he was unable - to drag himself along, and Beauty Smith had to wait half-an-hour for - him. And then, blind and reeling, he followed at Beauty Smith’s - heels back to the fort. -

-

- But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth, and he - strove in vain, by lunging, to draw the staple from the timber into - which it was driven. After a few days, sober and bankrupt, Grey - Beaver departed up the Porcupine on his long journey to the - Mackenzie. White Fang remained on the Yukon, the property of a man - more than half mad and all brute. But what is a dog to know in its - consciousness of madness? To White Fang, Beauty Smith was a - veritable, if terrible, god. He was a mad god at best, but White - Fang knew nothing of madness; he knew only that he must submit to - the will of this new master, obey his every whim and fancy. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIIThe Reign of Hate -

-

- Under the tutelage of the mad god, White Fang became a fiend. He was - kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and here Beauty Smith - teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments. The man - early discovered White Fang’s susceptibility to laughter, and made - it a point after painfully tricking him, to laugh at him. This - laughter was uproarious and scornful, and at the same time the god - pointed his finger derisively at White Fang. At such times reason - fled from White Fang, and in his transports of rage he was even more - mad than Beauty Smith. -

-

- Formerly, White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind, withal a - ferocious enemy. He now became the enemy of all things, and more - ferocious than ever. To such an extent was he tormented, that he - hated blindly and without the faintest spark of reason. He hated the - chain that bound him, the men who peered in at him through the slats - of the pen, the dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled - malignantly at him in his helplessness. He hated the very wood of - the pen that confined him. And, first, last, and most of all, he - hated Beauty Smith. -

-

- But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang. One - day a number of men gathered about the pen. Beauty Smith entered, - club in hand, and took the chain off from White Fang’s neck. When - his master had gone out, White Fang turned loose and tore around the - pen, trying to get at the men outside. He was magnificently - terrible. Fully five feet in length, and standing two and one-half - feet at the shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding - size. From his mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of - the dog, so that he weighed, without any fat and without an ounce of - superfluous flesh, over ninety pounds. It was all muscle, bone, and - sinew-fighting flesh in the finest condition. -

-

- The door of the pen was being opened again. White Fang paused. - Something unusual was happening. He waited. The door was opened - wider. Then a huge dog was thrust inside, and the door was slammed - shut behind him. White Fang had never seen such a dog (it was a - mastiff); but the size and fierce aspect of the intruder did not - deter him. Here was some thing, not wood nor iron, upon which to - wreak his hate. He leaped in with a flash of fangs that ripped down - the side of the mastiff’s neck. The mastiff shook his head, growled - hoarsely, and plunged at White Fang. But White Fang was here, there, - and everywhere, always evading and eluding, and always leaping in - and slashing with his fangs and leaping out again in time to escape - punishment. -

-

- The men outside shouted and applauded, while Beauty Smith, in an - ecstasy of delight, gloated over the ripping and mangling performed - by White Fang. There was no hope for the mastiff from the first. He - was too ponderous and slow. In the end, while Beauty Smith beat - White Fang back with a club, the mastiff was dragged out by its - owner. Then there was a payment of bets, and money clinked in Beauty - Smith’s hand. -

-

- White Fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men - around his pen. It meant a fight; and this was the only way that was - now vouchsafed him of expressing the life that was in him. - Tormented, incited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so that there was - no way of satisfying that hate except at the times his master saw - fit to put another dog against him. Beauty Smith had estimated his - powers well, for he was invariably the victor. One day, three dogs - were turned in upon him in succession. Another day a full-grown - wolf, fresh-caught from the Wild, was shoved in through the door of - the pen. And on still another day two dogs were set against him at - the same time. This was his severest fight, and though in the end he - killed them both he was himself half killed in doing it. -

-

- In the fall of the year, when the first snows were falling and - mush-ice was running in the river, Beauty Smith took passage for - himself and White Fang on a steamboat bound up the Yukon to Dawson. - White Fang had now achieved a reputation in the land. As “the - Fighting Wolf” he was known far and wide, and the cage in which he - was kept on the steam-boat’s deck was usually surrounded by curious - men. He raged and snarled at them, or lay quietly and studied them - with cold hatred. Why should he not hate them? He never asked - himself the question. He knew only hate and lost himself in the - passion of it. Life had become a hell to him. He had not been made - for the close confinement wild beasts endure at the hands of men. - And yet it was in precisely this way that he was treated. Men stared - at him, poked sticks between the bars to make him snarl, and then - laughed at him. -

-

- They were his environment, these men, and they were moulding the - clay of him into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by - Nature. Nevertheless, Nature had given him plasticity. Where many - another animal would have died or had its spirit broken, he adjusted - himself and lived, and at no expense of the spirit. Possibly Beauty - Smith, arch-fiend and tormentor, was capable of breaking White - Fang’s spirit, but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding. -

-

- If Beauty Smith had in him a devil, White Fang had another; and the - two of them raged against each other unceasingly. In the days - before, White Fang had had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a - man with a club in his hand; but this wisdom now left him. The mere - sight of Beauty Smith was sufficient to send him into transports of - fury. And when they came to close quarters, and he had been beaten - back by the club, he went on growling and snarling, and showing his - fangs. The last growl could never be extracted from him. No matter - how terribly he was beaten, he had always another growl; and when - Beauty Smith gave up and withdrew, the defiant growl followed after - him, or White Fang sprang at the bars of the cage bellowing his - hatred. -

-

- When the steamboat arrived at Dawson, White Fang went ashore. But he - still lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by curious men. He - was exhibited as “the Fighting Wolf,” and men paid fifty cents in - gold dust to see him. He was given no rest. Did he lie down to - sleep, he was stirred up by a sharp stick—so that the audience might - get its money’s worth. In order to make the exhibition interesting, - he was kept in a rage most of the time. But worse than all this, was - the atmosphere in which he lived. He was regarded as the most - fearful of wild beasts, and this was borne in to him through the - bars of the cage. Every word, every cautious action, on the part of - the men, impressed upon him his own terrible ferocity. It was so - much added fuel to the flame of his fierceness. There could be but - one result, and that was that his ferocity fed upon itself and - increased. It was another instance of the plasticity of his clay, of - his capacity for being moulded by the pressure of environment. -

-

- In addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting - animal. At irregular intervals, whenever a fight could be arranged, - he was taken out of his cage and led off into the woods a few miles - from town. Usually this occurred at night, so as to avoid - interference from the mounted police of the Territory. After a few - hours of waiting, when daylight had come, the audience and the dog - with which he was to fight arrived. In this manner it came about - that he fought all sizes and breeds of dogs. It was a savage land, - the men were savage, and the fights were usually to the death. -

-

- Since White Fang continued to fight, it is obvious that it was the - other dogs that died. He never knew defeat. His early training, when - he fought with Lip-lip and the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good - stead. There was the tenacity with which he clung to the earth. No - dog could make him lose his footing. This was the favourite trick of - the wolf breeds—to rush in upon him, either directly or with an - unexpected swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder and - overthrowing him. Mackenzie hounds, Eskimo and Labrador dogs, - huskies and Malemutes—all tried it on him, and all failed. He was - never known to lose his footing. Men told this to one another, and - looked each time to see it happen; but White Fang always - disappointed them. -

-

- Then there was his lightning quickness. It gave him a tremendous - advantage over his antagonists. No matter what their fighting - experience, they had never encountered a dog that moved so swiftly - as he. Also to be reckoned with, was the immediateness of his - attack. The average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of - snarling and bristling and growling, and the average dog was knocked - off his feet and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered - from his surprise. So often did this happen, that it became the - custom to hold White Fang until the other dog went through its - preliminaries, was good and ready, and even made the first attack. -

-

- But greatest of all the advantages in White Fang’s favour, was his - experience. He knew more about fighting than did any of the dogs - that faced him. He had fought more fights, knew how to meet more - tricks and methods, and had more tricks himself, while his own - method was scarcely to be improved upon. -

-

- As the time went by, he had fewer and fewer fights. Men despaired of - matching him with an equal, and Beauty Smith was compelled to pit - wolves against him. These were trapped by the Indians for the - purpose, and a fight between White Fang and a wolf was always sure - to draw a crowd. Once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, and - this time White Fang fought for his life. Her quickness matched his; - her ferocity equalled his; while he fought with his fangs alone, and - she fought with her sharp-clawed feet as well. -

-

- But after the lynx, all fighting ceased for White Fang. There were - no more animals with which to fight—at least, there was none - considered worthy of fighting with him. So he remained on exhibition - until spring, when one Tim Keenan, a faro-dealer, arrived in the - land. With him came the first bull-dog that had ever entered the - Klondike. That this dog and White Fang should come together was - inevitable, and for a week the anticipated fight was the mainspring - of conversation in certain quarters of the town. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IVThe Clinging Death -

-

Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back.

-

- For once White Fang did not make an immediate attack. He stood - still, ears pricked forward, alert and curious, surveying the - strange animal that faced him. He had never seen such a dog before. - Tim Keenan shoved the bull-dog forward with a muttered “Go to it.” - The animal waddled toward the centre of the circle, short and squat - and ungainly. He came to a stop and blinked across at White Fang. -

-

- There were cries from the crowd of, “Go to him, Cherokee! Sick ’m, - Cherokee! Eat ’m up!” -

-

- But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. He turned his head and - blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump - of a tail good-naturedly. He was not afraid, but merely lazy. - Besides, it did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight - with the dog he saw before him. He was not used to fighting with - that kind of dog, and he was waiting for them to bring on the real - dog. -

-

- Tim Keenan stepped in and bent over Cherokee, fondling him on both - sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of - the hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. These were - so many suggestions. Also, their effect was irritating, for Cherokee - began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. There was a - correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the movements of the - man’s hands. The growl rose in the throat with the culmination of - each forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh - with the beginning of the next movement. The end of each movement - was the accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the - growling rising with a jerk. -

-

- This was not without its effect on White Fang. The hair began to - rise on his neck and across the shoulders. Tim Keenan gave a final - shove forward and stepped back again. As the impetus that carried - Cherokee forward died down, he continued to go forward of his own - volition, in a swift, bow-legged run. Then White Fang struck. A cry - of startled admiration went up. He had covered the distance and gone - in more like a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness - he had slashed with his fangs and leaped clear. -

-

- The bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick - neck. He gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed - after White Fang. The display on both sides, the quickness of the - one and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit - of the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing - original bets. Again, and yet again, White Fang sprang in, slashed, - and got away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after - him, without too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and - determinedly, in a businesslike sort of way. There was purpose in - his method—something for him to do that he was intent upon doing and - from which nothing could distract him. -

-

- His whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. It - puzzled White Fang. Never had he seen such a dog. It had no hair - protection. It was soft, and bled easily. There was no thick mat of - fur to baffle White Fang’s teeth as they were often baffled by dogs - of his own breed. Each time that his teeth struck they sank easily - into the yielding flesh, while the animal did not seem able to - defend itself. Another disconcerting thing was that it made no - outcry, such as he had been accustomed to with the other dogs he had - fought. Beyond a growl or a grunt, the dog took its punishment - silently. And never did it flag in its pursuit of him. -

-

- Not that Cherokee was slow. He could turn and whirl swiftly enough, - but White Fang was never there. Cherokee was puzzled, too. He had - never fought before with a dog with which he could not close. The - desire to close had always been mutual. But here was a dog that kept - at a distance, dancing and dodging here and there and all about. And - when it did get its teeth into him, it did not hold on but let go - instantly and darted away again. -

-

- But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. - The bull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added - protection. White Fang darted in and out unscathed, while Cherokee’s - wounds increased. Both sides of his neck and head were ripped and - slashed. He bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. - He continued his plodding pursuit, though once, for the moment - baffled, he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked - on, at the same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of - his willingness to fight. -

-

- In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out, in passing - ripping his trimmed remnant of an ear. With a slight manifestation - of anger, Cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside - of the circle White Fang was making, and striving to fasten his - deadly grip on White Fang’s throat. The bull-dog missed by a - hair’s-breadth, and cries of praise went up as White Fang doubled - suddenly out of danger in the opposite direction. -

-

- The time went by. White Fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, - leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage. And still the - bull-dog, with grim certitude, toiled after him. Sooner or later he - would accomplish his purpose, get the grip that would win the - battle. In the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other - could deal him. His tufts of ears had become tassels, his neck and - shoulders were slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were - cut and bleeding—all from these lightning snaps that were beyond his - foreseeing and guarding. -

-

- Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off his - feet; but the difference in their height was too great. Cherokee was - too squat, too close to the ground. White Fang tried the trick once - too often. The chance came in one of his quick doublings and - counter-circlings. He caught Cherokee with head turned away as he - whirled more slowly. His shoulder was exposed. White Fang drove in - upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he struck with - such force that his momentum carried him on across over the other’s - body. For the first time in his fighting history, men saw White Fang - lose his footing. His body turned a half-somersault in the air, and - he would have landed on his back had he not twisted, catlike, still - in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. As it was, - he struck heavily on his side. The next instant he was on his feet, - but in that instant Cherokee’s teeth closed on his throat. -

-

- It was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; but - Cherokee held on. White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly - around, trying to shake off the bull-dog’s body. It made him - frantic, this clinging, dragging weight. It bound his movements, - restricted his freedom. It was like the trap, and all his instinct - resented it and revolted against it. It was a mad revolt. For - several minutes he was to all intents insane. The basic life that - was in him took charge of him. The will to exist of his body surged - over him. He was dominated by this mere flesh-love of life. All - intelligence was gone. It was as though he had no brain. His reason - was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist and move, - at all hazards to move, to continue to move, for movement was the - expression of its existence. -

-

- Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, trying - to shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. The - bull-dog did little but keep his grip. Sometimes, and rarely, he - managed to get his feet to the earth and for a moment to brace - himself against White Fang. But the next moment his footing would be - lost and he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of White - Fang’s mad gyrations. Cherokee identified himself with his instinct. - He knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there - came to him certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. At such - moments he even closed his eyes and allowed his body to be hurled - hither and thither, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might - thereby come to it. That did not count. The grip was the thing, and - the grip he kept. -

-

- White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. He could do - nothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, - had this thing happened. The dogs he had fought with did not fight - that way. With them it was snap and slash and get away, snap and - slash and get away. He lay partly on his side, panting for breath. - Cherokee still holding his grip, urged against him, trying to get - him over entirely on his side. White Fang resisted, and he could - feel the jaws shifting their grip, slightly relaxing and coming - together again in a chewing movement. Each shift brought the grip - closer to his throat. The bull-dog’s method was to hold what he had, - and when opportunity favoured to work in for more. Opportunity - favoured when White Fang remained quiet. When White Fang struggled, - Cherokee was content merely to hold on. -

-

- The bulging back of Cherokee’s neck was the only portion of his body - that White Fang’s teeth could reach. He got hold toward the base - where the neck comes out from the shoulders; but he did not know the - chewing method of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted to it. He - spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. Then a - change in their position diverted him. The bull-dog had managed to - roll him over on his back, and still hanging on to his throat, was - on top of him. Like a cat, White Fang bowed his hind-quarters in, - and, with the feet digging into his enemy’s abdomen above him, he - began to claw with long tearing-strokes. Cherokee might well have - been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted on his grip and got - his body off of White Fang’s and at right angles to it. -

-

- There was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and as - inexorable. Slowly it shifted up along the jugular. All that saved - White Fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and the thick - fur that covered it. This served to form a large roll in Cherokee’s - mouth, the fur of which well-nigh defied his teeth. But bit by bit, - whenever the chance offered, he was getting more of the loose skin - and fur in his mouth. The result was that he was slowly throttling - White Fang. The latter’s breath was drawn with greater and greater - difficulty as the moments went by. -

-

- It began to look as though the battle were over. The backers of - Cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. White Fang’s - backers were correspondingly depressed, and refused bets of ten to - one and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close a - wager of fifty to one. This man was Beauty Smith. He took a step - into the ring and pointed his finger at White Fang. Then he began to - laugh derisively and scornfully. This produced the desired effect. - White Fang went wild with rage. He called up his reserves of - strength, and gained his feet. As he struggled around the ring, the - fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on his throat, his anger - passed on into panic. The basic life of him dominated him again, and - his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to live. Round - and round and back again, stumbling and falling and rising, even - uprearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe clear of the - earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death. -

-

- At last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted; and the bull-dog - promptly shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more - of the fur-folded flesh, throttling White Fang more severely than - ever. Shouts of applause went up for the victor, and there were many - cries of “Cherokee!” “Cherokee!” To this Cherokee responded by - vigorous wagging of the stump of his tail. But the clamour of - approval did not distract him. There was no sympathetic relation - between his tail and his massive jaws. The one might wag, but the - others held their terrible grip on White Fang’s throat. -

-

- It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. There - was a jingle of bells. Dog-mushers’ cries were heard. Everybody, - save Beauty Smith, looked apprehensively, the fear of the police - strong upon them. But they saw, up the trail, and not down, two men - running with sled and dogs. They were evidently coming down the - creek from some prospecting trip. At sight of the crowd they stopped - their dogs and came over and joined it, curious to see the cause of - the excitement. The dog-musher wore a moustache, but the other, a - taller and younger man, was smooth-shaven, his skin rosy from the - pounding of his blood and the running in the frosty air. -

-

- White Fang had practically ceased struggling. Now and again he - resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little air, - and that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that - ever tightened. In spite of his armour of fur, the great vein of his - throat would have long since been torn open, had not the first grip - of the bull-dog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. - It had taken Cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward, and - this had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and - skin-fold. -

-

- In the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising - into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he - possessed at best. When he saw White Fang’s eyes beginning to glaze, - he knew beyond doubt that the fight was lost. Then he broke loose. - He sprang upon White Fang and began savagely to kick him. There were - hisses from the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. While - this went on, and Beauty Smith continued to kick White Fang, there - was a commotion in the crowd. The tall young newcomer was forcing - his way through, shouldering men right and left without ceremony or - gentleness. When he broke through into the ring, Beauty Smith was - just in the act of delivering another kick. All his weight was on - one foot, and he was in a state of unstable equilibrium. At that - moment the newcomer’s fist landed a smashing blow full in his face. - Beauty Smith’s remaining leg left the ground, and his whole body - seemed to lift into the air as he turned over backward and struck - the snow. The newcomer turned upon the crowd. -

-

“You cowards!” he cried. “You beasts!”

-

- He was in a rage himself—a sane rage. His grey eyes seemed metallic - and steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. Beauty Smith regained - his feet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. The new-comer - did not understand. He did not know how abject a coward the other - was, and thought he was coming back intent on fighting. So, with a - “You beast!” he smashed Beauty Smith over backward with a second - blow in the face. Beauty Smith decided that the snow was the safest - place for him, and lay where he had fallen, making no effort to get - up. -

-

- “Come on, Matt, lend a hand,” the newcomer called the dog-musher, - who had followed him into the ring. -

-

- Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took hold of White Fang, ready to - pull when Cherokee’s jaws should be loosened. This the younger man - endeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog’s jaws in his - hands and trying to spread them. It was a vain undertaking. As he - pulled and tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming with every - expulsion of breath, “Beasts!” -

-

- The crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protesting - against the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when the - newcomer lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at - them. -

-

- “You damn beasts!” he finally exploded, and went back to his task. -

-

- “It’s no use, Mr. Scott, you can’t break ’m apart that way,” Matt - said at last. -

-

The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs.

-

- “Ain’t bleedin’ much,” Matt announced. “Ain’t got all the way in - yet.” -

-

- “But he’s liable to any moment,” Scott answered. “There, did you see - that! He shifted his grip in a bit.” -

-

- The younger man’s excitement and apprehension for White Fang was - growing. He struck Cherokee about the head savagely again and again. - But that did not loosen the jaws. Cherokee wagged the stump of his - tail in advertisement that he understood the meaning of the blows, - but that he knew he was himself in the right and only doing his duty - by keeping his grip. -

-

“Won’t some of you help?” Scott cried desperately at the crowd.

-

- But no help was offered. Instead, the crowd began sarcastically to - cheer him on and showered him with facetious advice. -

-

“You’ll have to get a pry,” Matt counselled.

-

- The other reached into the holster at his hip, drew his revolver, - and tried to thrust its muzzle between the bull-dog’s jaws. He - shoved, and shoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the - locked teeth could be distinctly heard. Both men were on their - knees, bending over the dogs. Tim Keenan strode into the ring. He - paused beside Scott and touched him on the shoulder, saying - ominously: -

-

“Don’t break them teeth, stranger.”

-

- “Then I’ll break his neck,” Scott retorted, continuing his shoving - and wedging with the revolver muzzle. -

-

- “I said don’t break them teeth,” the faro-dealer repeated more - ominously than before. -

-

- But if it was a bluff he intended, it did not work. Scott never - desisted from his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked: -

-

“Your dog?”

-

The faro-dealer grunted.

-

“Then get in here and break this grip.”

-

- “Well, stranger,” the other drawled irritatingly, “I don’t mind - telling you that’s something I ain’t worked out for myself. I don’t - know how to turn the trick.” -

-

- “Then get out of the way,” was the reply, “and don’t bother me. I’m - busy.” -

-

- Tim Keenan continued standing over him, but Scott took no further - notice of his presence. He had managed to get the muzzle in between - the jaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws - on the other side. This accomplished, he pried gently and carefully, - loosening the jaws a bit at a time, while Matt, a bit at a time, - extricated White Fang’s mangled neck. -

-

- “Stand by to receive your dog,” was Scott’s peremptory order to - Cherokee’s owner. -

-

- The faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on - Cherokee. -

-

“Now!” Scott warned, giving the final pry.

-

The dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously.

-

- “Take him away,” Scott commanded, and Tim Keenan dragged Cherokee - back into the crowd. -

-

- White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. Once he - gained his feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he - slowly wilted and sank back into the snow. His eyes were half - closed, and the surface of them was glassy. His jaws were apart, and - through them the tongue protruded, draggled and limp. To all - appearances he looked like a dog that had been strangled to death. - Matt examined him. -

-

- “Just about all in,” he announced; “but he’s breathin’ all right.” -

-

- Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at White - Fang. -

-

“Matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?” Scott asked.

-

- The dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over White Fang, - calculated for a moment. -

-

“Three hundred dollars,” he answered.

-

- “And how much for one that’s all chewed up like this one?” Scott - asked, nudging White Fang with his foot. -

-

- “Half of that,” was the dog-musher’s judgment. Scott turned upon - Beauty Smith. -

-

- “Did you hear, Mr. Beast? I’m going to take your dog from you, and - I’m going to give you a hundred and fifty for him.” -

-

He opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills.

-

- Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the - proffered money. -

-

“I ain’t a-sellin’,” he said.

-

- “Oh, yes you are,” the other assured him. “Because I’m buying. - Here’s your money. The dog’s mine.” -

-

Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away.

-

- Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty - Smith cowered down in anticipation of the blow. -

-

“I’ve got my rights,” he whimpered.

-

- “You’ve forfeited your rights to own that dog,” was the rejoinder. - “Are you going to take the money? or do I have to hit you again?” -

-

- “All right,” Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity of fear. “But I - take the money under protest,” he added. “The dog’s a mint. I ain’t - a-goin’ to be robbed. A man’s got his rights.” -

-

- “Correct,” Scott answered, passing the money over to him. “A man’s - got his rights. But you’re not a man. You’re a beast.” -

-

- “Wait till I get back to Dawson,” Beauty Smith threatened. “I’ll - have the law on you.” -

-

- “If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I’ll have you - run out of town. Understand?” -

-

Beauty Smith replied with a grunt.

-

“Understand?” the other thundered with abrupt fierceness.

-

“Yes,” Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away.

-

“Yes what?”

-

“Yes, sir,” Beauty Smith snarled.

-

- “Look out! He’ll bite!” some one shouted, and a guffaw of laughter - went up. -

-

- Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, - who was working over White Fang. -

-

- Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, - looking on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups. -

-

“Who’s that mug?” he asked.

-

“Weedon Scott,” some one answered.

-

“And who in hell is Weedon Scott?” the faro-dealer demanded.

-

- “Oh, one of them crackerjack minin’ experts. He’s in with all the - big bugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, you’ll steer clear of - him, that’s my talk. He’s all hunky with the officials. The Gold - Commissioner’s a special pal of his.” -

-

- “I thought he must be somebody,” was the faro-dealer’s comment. - “That’s why I kept my hands offen him at the start.” -

-
-
-

- Chapter VThe Indomitable -

-

“It’s hopeless,” Weedon Scott confessed.

-

- He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who - responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless. -

-

- Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched - chain, bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the - sled-dogs. Having received sundry lessons from Matt, said lessons - being imparted by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to - leave White Fang alone; and even then they were lying down at a - distance, apparently oblivious of his existence. -

-

“It’s a wolf and there’s no taming it,” Weedon Scott announced.

-

- “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Matt objected. “Might be a lot of dog - in ’m, for all you can tell. But there’s one thing I know sure, an’ - that there’s no gettin’ away from.” -

-

- The dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at - Moosehide Mountain. -

-

- “Well, don’t be a miser with what you know,” Scott said sharply, - after waiting a suitable length of time. “Spit it out. What is it?” -

-

- The dog-musher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his - thumb. -

-

“Wolf or dog, it’s all the same—he’s ben tamed ’ready.”

-

“No!”

-

- “I tell you yes, an’ broke to harness. Look close there. D’ye see - them marks across the chest?” -

-

- “You’re right, Matt. He was a sled-dog before Beauty Smith got hold - of him.” -

-

- “And there’s not much reason against his bein’ a sled-dog again.” -

-

- “What d’ye think?” Scott queried eagerly. Then the hope died down as - he added, shaking his head, “We’ve had him two weeks now, and if - anything he’s wilder than ever at the present moment.” -

-

- “Give ’m a chance,” Matt counselled. “Turn ’m loose for a spell.” -

-

The other looked at him incredulously.

-

- “Yes,” Matt went on, “I know you’ve tried to, but you didn’t take a - club.” -

-

“You try it then.”

-

- The dog-musher secured a club and went over to the chained animal. - White Fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion - watching the whip of its trainer. -

-

- “See ’m keep his eye on that club,” Matt said. “That’s a good sign. - He’s no fool. Don’t dast tackle me so long as I got that club handy. - He’s not clean crazy, sure.” -

-

- As the man’s hand approached his neck, White Fang bristled and - snarled and crouched down. But while he eyed the approaching hand, - he at the same time contrived to keep track of the club in the other - hand, suspended threateningly above him. Matt unsnapped the chain - from the collar and stepped back. -

-

- White Fang could scarcely realise that he was free. Many months had - gone by since he passed into the possession of Beauty Smith, and in - all that period he had never known a moment of freedom except at the - times he had been loosed to fight with other dogs. Immediately after - such fights he had always been imprisoned again. -

-

- He did not know what to make of it. Perhaps some new devilry of the - gods was about to be perpetrated on him. He walked slowly and - cautiously, prepared to be assailed at any moment. He did not know - what to do, it was all so unprecedented. He took the precaution to - sheer off from the two watching gods, and walked carefully to the - corner of the cabin. Nothing happened. He was plainly perplexed, and - he came back again, pausing a dozen feet away and regarding the two - men intently. -

-

“Won’t he run away?” his new owner asked.

-

- Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Got to take a gamble. Only way to find - out is to find out.” -

-

- “Poor devil,” Scott murmured pityingly. “What he needs is some show - of human kindness,” he added, turning and going into the cabin. -

-

- He came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to White Fang. He - sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously. -

-

“Hi-yu, Major!” Matt shouted warningly, but too late.

-

- Major had made a spring for the meat. At the instant his jaws closed - on it, White Fang struck him. He was overthrown. Matt rushed in, but - quicker than he was White Fang. Major staggered to his feet, but the - blood spouting from his throat reddened the snow in a widening path. -

-

“It’s too bad, but it served him right,” Scott said hastily.

-

- But Matt’s foot had already started on its way to kick White Fang. - There was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. White Fang, - snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, while Matt - stooped and investigated his leg. -

-

- “He got me all right,” he announced, pointing to the torn trousers - and undercloths, and the growing stain of red. -

-

- “I told you it was hopeless, Matt,” Scott said in a discouraged - voice. “I’ve thought about it off and on, while not wanting to think - of it. But we’ve come to it now. It’s the only thing to do.” -

-

- As he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threw - open the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents. -

-

- “Look here, Mr. Scott,” Matt objected; “that dog’s ben through hell. - You can’t expect ’m to come out a white an’ shinin’ angel. Give ’m - time.” -

-

“Look at Major,” the other rejoined.

-

- The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. He had sunk down on the - snow in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp. -

-

- “Served ’m right. You said so yourself, Mr. Scott. He tried to take - White Fang’s meat, an’ he’s dead-O. That was to be expected. I - wouldn’t give two whoops in hell for a dog that wouldn’t fight for - his own meat.” -

-

- “But look at yourself, Matt. It’s all right about the dogs, but we - must draw the line somewhere.” -

-

- “Served me right,” Matt argued stubbornly. “What’d I want to kick ’m - for? You said yourself that he’d done right. Then I had no right to - kick ’m.” -

-

- “It would be a mercy to kill him,” Scott insisted. “He’s untamable.” -

-

- “Now look here, Mr. Scott, give the poor devil a fightin’ chance. He - ain’t had no chance yet. He’s just come through hell, an’ this is - the first time he’s ben loose. Give ’m a fair chance, an’ if he - don’t deliver the goods, I’ll kill ’m myself. There!” -

-

- “God knows I don’t want to kill him or have him killed,” Scott - answered, putting away the revolver. “We’ll let him run loose and - see what kindness can do for him. And here’s a try at it.” -

-

- He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and - soothingly. -

-

“Better have a club handy,” Matt warned.

-

- Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fang’s - confidence. -

-

- White Fang was suspicious. Something was impending. He had killed - this god’s dog, bitten his companion god, and what else was to be - expected than some terrible punishment? But in the face of it he was - indomitable. He bristled and showed his teeth, his eyes vigilant, - his whole body wary and prepared for anything. The god had no club, - so he suffered him to approach quite near. The god’s hand had come - out and was descending upon his head. White Fang shrank together and - grew tense as he crouched under it. Here was danger, some treachery - or something. He knew the hands of the gods, their proved mastery, - their cunning to hurt. Besides, there was his old antipathy to being - touched. He snarled more menacingly, crouched still lower, and still - the hand descended. He did not want to bite the hand, and he endured - the peril of it until his instinct surged up in him, mastering him - with its insatiable yearning for life. -

-

- Weedon Scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap - or slash. But he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of White - Fang, who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled snake. -

-

- Scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand and - holding it tightly in his other hand. Matt uttered a great oath and - sprang to his side. White Fang crouched down, and backed away, - bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malignant with menace. Now he - could expect a beating as fearful as any he had received from Beauty - Smith. -

-

“Here! What are you doing?” Scott cried suddenly.

-

Matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle.

-

- “Nothin’,” he said slowly, with a careless calmness that was - assumed, “only goin’ to keep that promise I made. I reckon it’s up - to me to kill ’m as I said I’d do.” -

-

“No you don’t!”

-

“Yes I do. Watch me.”

-

- As Matt had pleaded for White Fang when he had been bitten, it was - now Weedon Scott’s turn to plead. -

-

- “You said to give him a chance. Well, give it to him. We’ve only - just started, and we can’t quit at the beginning. It served me - right, this time. And—look at him!” -

-

- White Fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away, was - snarling with blood-curdling viciousness, not at Scott, but at the - dog-musher. -

-

- “Well, I’ll be everlastingly gosh-swoggled!” was the dog-musher’s - expression of astonishment. -

-

- “Look at the intelligence of him,” Scott went on hastily. “He knows - the meaning of firearms as well as you do. He’s got intelligence and - we’ve got to give that intelligence a chance. Put up the gun.” -

-

- “All right, I’m willin’,” Matt agreed, leaning the rifle against the - woodpile. -

-

“But will you look at that!” he exclaimed the next moment.

-

- White Fang had quieted down and ceased snarling. “This is worth - investigatin’. Watch.” -

-

- Matt, reached for the rifle, and at the same moment White Fang - snarled. He stepped away from the rifle, and White Fang’s lifted - lips descended, covering his teeth. -

-

“Now, just for fun.”

-

- Matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder. - White Fang’s snarling began with the movement, and increased as the - movement approached its culmination. But the moment before the rifle - came to a level on him, he leaped sidewise behind the corner of the - cabin. Matt stood staring along the sights at the empty space of - snow which had been occupied by White Fang. -

-

- The dog-musher put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked - at his employer. -

-

- “I agree with you, Mr. Scott. That dog’s too intelligent to kill.” -

-
-
-

- Chapter VIThe Love-Master -

-

- As White Fang watched Weedon Scott approach, he bristled and snarled - to advertise that he would not submit to punishment. Twenty-four - hours had passed since he had slashed open the hand that was now - bandaged and held up by a sling to keep the blood out of it. In the - past White Fang had experienced delayed punishments, and he - apprehended that such a one was about to befall him. How could it be - otherwise? He had committed what was to him sacrilege, sunk his - fangs into the holy flesh of a god, and of a white-skinned superior - god at that. In the nature of things, and of intercourse with gods, - something terrible awaited him. -

-

- The god sat down several feet away. White Fang could see nothing - dangerous in that. When the gods administered punishment they stood - on their legs. Besides, this god had no club, no whip, no firearm. - And furthermore, he himself was free. No chain nor stick bound him. - He could escape into safety while the god was scrambling to his - feet. In the meantime he would wait and see. -

-

- The god remained quiet, made no movement; and White Fang’s snarl - slowly dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased. - Then the god spoke, and at the first sound of his voice, the hair - rose on White Fang’s neck and the growl rushed up in his throat. But - the god made no hostile movement, and went on calmly talking. For a - time White Fang growled in unison with him, a correspondence of - rhythm being established between growl and voice. But the god talked - on interminably. He talked to White Fang as White Fang had never - been talked to before. He talked softly and soothingly, with a - gentleness that somehow, somewhere, touched White Fang. In spite of - himself and all the pricking warnings of his instinct, White Fang - began to have confidence in this god. He had a feeling of security - that was belied by all his experience with men. -

-

- After a long time, the god got up and went into the cabin. White - Fang scanned him apprehensively when he came out. He had neither - whip nor club nor weapon. Nor was his uninjured hand behind his back - hiding something. He sat down as before, in the same spot, several - feet away. He held out a small piece of meat. White Fang pricked his - ears and investigated it suspiciously, managing to look at the same - time both at the meat and the god, alert for any overt act, his body - tense and ready to spring away at the first sign of hostility. -

-

- Still the punishment delayed. The god merely held near to his nose a - piece of meat. And about the meat there seemed nothing wrong. Still - White Fang suspected; and though the meat was proffered to him with - short inviting thrusts of the hand, he refused to touch it. The gods - were all-wise, and there was no telling what masterful treachery - lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of meat. In past - experience, especially in dealing with squaws, meat and punishment - had often been disastrously related. -

-

- In the end, the god tossed the meat on the snow at White Fang’s - feet. He smelled the meat carefully; but he did not look at it. - While he smelled it he kept his eyes on the god. Nothing happened. - He took the meat into his mouth and swallowed it. Still nothing - happened. The god was actually offering him another piece of meat. - Again he refused to take it from the hand, and again it was tossed - to him. This was repeated a number of times. But there came a time - when the god refused to toss it. He kept it in his hand and - steadfastly proffered it. -

-

- The meat was good meat, and White Fang was hungry. Bit by bit, - infinitely cautious, he approached the hand. At last the time came - that he decided to eat the meat from the hand. He never took his - eyes from the god, thrusting his head forward with ears flattened - back and hair involuntarily rising and cresting on his neck. Also a - low growl rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to be - trifled with. He ate the meat, and nothing happened. Piece by piece, - he ate all the meat, and nothing happened. Still the punishment - delayed. -

-

- He licked his chops and waited. The god went on talking. In his - voice was kindness—something of which White Fang had no experience - whatever. And within him it aroused feelings which he had likewise - never experienced before. He was aware of a certain strange - satisfaction, as though some need were being gratified, as though - some void in his being were being filled. Then again came the prod - of his instinct and the warning of past experience. The gods were - ever crafty, and they had unguessed ways of attaining their ends. -

-

- Ah, he had thought so! There it came now, the god’s hand, cunning to - hurt, thrusting out at him, descending upon his head. But the god - went on talking. His voice was soft and soothing. In spite of the - menacing hand, the voice inspired confidence. And in spite of the - assuring voice, the hand inspired distrust. White Fang was torn by - conflicting feelings, impulses. It seemed he would fly to pieces, so - terrible was the control he was exerting, holding together by an - unwonted indecision the counter-forces that struggled within him for - mastery. -

-

- He compromised. He snarled and bristled and flattened his ears. But - he neither snapped nor sprang away. The hand descended. Nearer and - nearer it came. It touched the ends of his upstanding hair. He - shrank down under it. It followed down after him, pressing more - closely against him. Shrinking, almost shivering, he still managed - to hold himself together. It was a torment, this hand that touched - him and violated his instinct. He could not forget in a day all the - evil that had been wrought him at the hands of men. But it was the - will of the god, and he strove to submit. -

-

- The hand lifted and descended again in a patting, caressing - movement. This continued, but every time the hand lifted, the hair - lifted under it. And every time the hand descended, the ears - flattened down and a cavernous growl surged in his throat. White - Fang growled and growled with insistent warning. By this means he - announced that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might - receive. There was no telling when the god’s ulterior motive might - be disclosed. At any moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice - might break forth in a roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand - transform itself into a vice-like grip to hold him helpless and - administer punishment. -

-

- But the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with - non-hostile pats. White Fang experienced dual feelings. It was - distasteful to his instinct. It restrained him, opposed the will of - him toward personal liberty. And yet it was not physically painful. - On the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical way. The - patting movement slowly and carefully changed to a rubbing of the - ears about their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased a - little. Yet he continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant - of unguessed evil, alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling - or the other came uppermost and swayed him. -

-

“Well, I’ll be gosh-swoggled!”

-

- So spoke Matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a pan - of dirty dish-water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying - the pan by the sight of Weedon Scott patting White Fang. -

-

- At the instant his voice broke the silence, White Fang leaped back, - snarling savagely at him. -

-

Matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval.

-

- “If you don’t mind my expressin’ my feelin’s, Mr. Scott, I’ll make - free to say you’re seventeen kinds of a damn fool an’ all of ’em - different, an’ then some.” -

-

- Weedon Scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked - over to White Fang. He talked soothingly to him, but not for long, - then slowly put out his hand, rested it on White Fang’s head, and - resumed the interrupted patting. White Fang endured it, keeping his - eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that patted him, but upon - the man that stood in the doorway. -

-

- “You may be a number one, tip-top minin’ expert, all right all - right,” the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, “but you missed - the chance of your life when you was a boy an’ didn’t run off an’ - join a circus.” -

-

- White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not - leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the - back of his neck with long, soothing strokes. -

-

- It was the beginning of the end for White Fang—the ending of the old - life and the reign of hate. A new and incomprehensibly fairer life - was dawning. It required much thinking and endless patience on the - part of Weedon Scott to accomplish this. And on the part of White - Fang it required nothing less than a revolution. He had to ignore - the urges and promptings of instinct and reason, defy experience, - give the lie to life itself. -

-

- Life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much - that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to - which he now abandoned himself. In short, when all things were - considered, he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one - he had achieved at the time he came voluntarily in from the Wild and - accepted Grey Beaver as his lord. At that time he was a mere puppy, - soft from the making, without form, ready for the thumb of - circumstance to begin its work upon him. But now it was different. - The thumb of circumstance had done its work only too well. By it he - had been formed and hardened into the Fighting Wolf, fierce and - implacable, unloving and unlovable. To accomplish the change was - like a reflux of being, and this when the plasticity of youth was no - longer his; when the fibre of him had become tough and knotty; when - the warp and the woof of him had made of him an adamantine texture, - harsh and unyielding; when the face of his spirit had become iron - and all his instincts and axioms had crystallised into set rules, - cautions, dislikes, and desires. -

-

- Yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance - that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard - and remoulding it into fairer form. Weedon Scott was in truth this - thumb. He had gone to the roots of White Fang’s nature, and with - kindness touched to life potencies that had languished and well-nigh - perished. One such potency was love. It took the place of - like, which latter had been the highest feeling that thrilled - him in his intercourse with the gods. -

-

- But this love did not come in a day. It began with like and - out of it slowly developed. White Fang did not run away, though he - was allowed to remain loose, because he liked this new god. This was - certainly better than the life he had lived in the cage of Beauty - Smith, and it was necessary that he should have some god. The - lordship of man was a need of his nature. The seal of his dependence - on man had been set upon him in that early day when he turned his - back on the Wild and crawled to Grey Beaver’s feet to receive the - expected beating. This seal had been stamped upon him again, and - ineradicably, on his second return from the Wild, when the long - famine was over and there was fish once more in the village of Grey - Beaver. -

-

- And so, because he needed a god and because he preferred Weedon - Scott to Beauty Smith, White Fang remained. In acknowledgment of - fealty, he proceeded to take upon himself the guardianship of his - master’s property. He prowled about the cabin while the sled-dogs - slept, and the first night-visitor to the cabin fought him off with - a club until Weedon Scott came to the rescue. But White Fang soon - learned to differentiate between thieves and honest men, to appraise - the true value of step and carriage. The man who travelled, - loud-stepping, the direct line to the cabin door, he let - alone—though he watched him vigilantly until the door opened and he - received the endorsement of the master. But the man who went softly, - by circuitous ways, peering with caution, seeking after secrecy—that - was the man who received no suspension of judgment from White Fang, - and who went away abruptly, hurriedly, and without dignity. -

-

- Weedon Scott had set himself the task of redeeming White Fang—or - rather, of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done White Fang. - It was a matter of principle and conscience. He felt that the ill - done White Fang was a debt incurred by man and that it must be paid. - So he went out of his way to be especially kind to the Fighting - Wolf. Each day he made it a point to caress and pet White Fang, and - to do it at length. -

-

- At first suspicious and hostile, White Fang grew to like this - petting. But there was one thing that he never outgrew—his growling. - Growl he would, from the moment the petting began till it ended. But - it was a growl with a new note in it. A stranger could not hear this - note, and to such a stranger the growling of White Fang was an - exhibition of primordial savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curdling. - But White Fang’s throat had become harsh-fibred from the making of - ferocious sounds through the many years since his first little rasp - of anger in the lair of his cubhood, and he could not soften the - sounds of that throat now to express the gentleness he felt. - Nevertheless, Weedon Scott’s ear and sympathy were fine enough to - catch the new note all but drowned in the fierceness—the note that - was the faintest hint of a croon of content and that none but he - could hear. -

-

- As the days went by, the evolution of like into - love was accelerated. White Fang himself began to grow aware - of it, though in his consciousness he knew not what love was. It - manifested itself to him as a void in his being—a hungry, aching, - yearning void that clamoured to be filled. It was a pain and an - unrest; and it received easement only by the touch of the new god’s - presence. At such times love was joy to him, a wild, keen-thrilling - satisfaction. But when away from his god, the pain and the unrest - returned; the void in him sprang up and pressed against him with its - emptiness, and the hunger gnawed and gnawed unceasingly. -

-

- White Fang was in the process of finding himself. In spite of the - maturity of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould that - had formed him, his nature was undergoing an expansion. There was a - burgeoning within him of strange feelings and unwonted impulses. His - old code of conduct was changing. In the past he had liked comfort - and surcease from pain, disliked discomfort and pain, and he had - adjusted his actions accordingly. But now it was different. Because - of this new feeling within him, he ofttimes elected discomfort and - pain for the sake of his god. Thus, in the early morning, instead of - roaming and foraging, or lying in a sheltered nook, he would wait - for hours on the cheerless cabin-stoop for a sight of the god’s - face. At night, when the god returned home, White Fang would leave - the warm sleeping-place he had burrowed in the snow in order to - receive the friendly snap of fingers and the word of greeting. Meat, - even meat itself, he would forego to be with his god, to receive a - caress from him or to accompany him down into the town. -

-

- Like had been replaced by love. And love was the - plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never - gone. And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. - That which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, - a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang’s - nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun. -

-

- But White Fang was not demonstrative. He was too old, too firmly - moulded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. He was - too self-possessed, too strongly poised in his own isolation. Too - long had he cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. He had - never barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark a - welcome when his god approached. He was never in the way, never - extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love. He never ran - to meet his god. He waited at a distance; but he always waited, was - always there. His love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, - inarticulate, a silent adoration. Only by the steady regard of his - eyes did he express his love, and by the unceasing following with - his eyes of his god’s every movement. Also, at times, when his god - looked at him and spoke to him, he betrayed an awkward - self-consciousness, caused by the struggle of his love to express - itself and his physical inability to express it. -

-

- He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. - It was borne in upon him that he must let his master’s dogs alone. - Yet his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash - them into an acknowledgment of his superiority and leadership. This - accomplished, he had little trouble with them. They gave trail to - him when he came and went or walked among them, and when he asserted - his will they obeyed. -

-

- In the same way, he came to tolerate Matt—as a possession of his - master. His master rarely fed him. Matt did that, it was his - business; yet White Fang divined that it was his master’s food he - ate and that it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. Matt it - was who tried to put him into the harness and make him haul sled - with the other dogs. But Matt failed. It was not until Weedon Scott - put the harness on White Fang and worked him, that he understood. He - took it as his master’s will that Matt should drive him and work him - just as he drove and worked his master’s other dogs. -

-

- Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with - runners under them. And different was the method of driving the - dogs. There was no fan-formation of the team. The dogs worked in - single file, one behind another, hauling on double traces. And here, - in the Klondike, the leader was indeed the leader. The wisest as - well as strongest dog was the leader, and the team obeyed him and - feared him. That White Fang should quickly gain this post was - inevitable. He could not be satisfied with less, as Matt learned - after much inconvenience and trouble. White Fang picked out the post - for himself, and Matt backed his judgment with strong language after - the experiment had been tried. But, though he worked in the sled in - the day, White Fang did not forego the guarding of his master’s - property in the night. Thus he was on duty all the time, ever - vigilant and faithful, the most valuable of all the dogs. -

-

- “Makin’ free to spit out what’s in me,” Matt said one day, “I beg to - state that you was a wise guy all right when you paid the price you - did for that dog. You clean swindled Beauty Smith on top of pushin’ - his face in with your fist.” -

-

- A recrudescence of anger glinted in Weedon Scott’s grey eyes, and he - muttered savagely, “The beast!” -

-

- In the late spring a great trouble came to White Fang. Without - warning, the love-master disappeared. There had been warning, but - White Fang was unversed in such things and did not understand the - packing of a grip. He remembered afterwards that his packing had - preceded the master’s disappearance; but at the time he suspected - nothing. That night he waited for the master to return. At midnight - the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear of the - cabin. There he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed for the - first sound of the familiar step. But, at two in the morning, his - anxiety drove him out to the cold front stoop, where he crouched, - and waited. -

-

- But no master came. In the morning the door opened and Matt stepped - outside. White Fang gazed at him wistfully. There was no common - speech by which he might learn what he wanted to know. The days came - and went, but never the master. White Fang, who had never known - sickness in his life, became sick. He became very sick, so sick that - Matt was finally compelled to bring him inside the cabin. Also, in - writing to his employer, Matt devoted a postscript to White Fang. -

-

- Weedon Scott reading the letter down in Circle City, came upon the - following: -

-

- “That dam wolf won’t work. Won’t eat. Aint got no spunk left. All - the dogs is licking him. Wants to know what has become of you, and I - don’t know how to tell him. Mebbe he is going to die.” -

-

- It was as Matt had said. White Fang had ceased eating, lost heart, - and allowed every dog of the team to thrash him. In the cabin he lay - on the floor near the stove, without interest in food, in Matt, nor - in life. Matt might talk gently to him or swear at him, it was all - the same; he never did more than turn his dull eyes upon the man, - then drop his head back to its customary position on his fore-paws. -

-

- And then, one night, Matt, reading to himself with moving lips and - mumbled sounds, was startled by a low whine from White Fang. He had - got upon his feet, his ears cocked towards the door, and he was - listening intently. A moment later, Matt heard a footstep. The door - opened, and Weedon Scott stepped in. The two men shook hands. Then - Scott looked around the room. -

-

“Where’s the wolf?” he asked.

-

- Then he discovered him, standing where he had been lying, near to - the stove. He had not rushed forward after the manner of other dogs. - He stood, watching and waiting. -

-

“Holy smoke!” Matt exclaimed. “Look at ’m wag his tail!”

-

- Weedon Scott strode half across the room toward him, at the same - time calling him. White Fang came to him, not with a great bound, - yet quickly. He was awakened from self-consciousness, but as he drew - near, his eyes took on a strange expression. Something, an - incommunicable vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as a light - and shone forth. -

-

- “He never looked at me that way all the time you was gone!” Matt - commented. -

-

- Weedon Scott did not hear. He was squatting down on his heels, face - to face with White Fang and petting him—rubbing at the roots of the - ears, making long caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders, - tapping the spine gently with the balls of his fingers. And White - Fang was growling responsively, the crooning note of the growl more - pronounced than ever. -

-

- But that was not all. What of his joy, the great love in him, ever - surging and struggling to express itself, succeeded in finding a new - mode of expression. He suddenly thrust his head forward and nudged - his way in between the master’s arm and body. And here, confined, - hidden from view all except his ears, no longer growling, he - continued to nudge and snuggle. -

-

The two men looked at each other. Scott’s eyes were shining.

-

“Gosh!” said Matt in an awe-stricken voice.

-

- A moment later, when he had recovered himself, he said, “I always - insisted that wolf was a dog. Look at ’m!” -

-

- With the return of the love-master, White Fang’s recovery was rapid. - Two nights and a day he spent in the cabin. Then he sallied forth. - The sled-dogs had forgotten his prowess. They remembered only the - latest, which was his weakness and sickness. At the sight of him as - he came out of the cabin, they sprang upon him. -

-

- “Talk about your rough-houses,” Matt murmured gleefully, standing in - the doorway and looking on. -

-

“Give ’m hell, you wolf! Give ’m hell!—an’ then some!”

-

- White Fang did not need the encouragement. The return of the - love-master was enough. Life was flowing through him again, splendid - and indomitable. He fought from sheer joy, finding in it an - expression of much that he felt and that otherwise was without - speech. There could be but one ending. The team dispersed in - ignominious defeat, and it was not until after dark that the dogs - came sneaking back, one by one, by meekness and humility signifying - their fealty to White Fang. -

-

- Having learned to snuggle, White Fang was guilty of it often. It was - the final word. He could not go beyond it. The one thing of which he - had always been particularly jealous was his head. He had always - disliked to have it touched. It was the Wild in him, the fear of - hurt and of the trap, that had given rise to the panicky impulses to - avoid contacts. It was the mandate of his instinct that that head - must be free. And now, with the love-master, his snuggling was the - deliberate act of putting himself into a position of hopeless - helplessness. It was an expression of perfect confidence, of - absolute self-surrender, as though he said: “I put myself into thy - hands. Work thou thy will with me.” -

-

- One night, not long after the return, Scott and Matt sat at a game - of cribbage preliminary to going to bed. “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four - an’ a pair makes six,” Mat was pegging up, when there was an outcry - and sound of snarling without. They looked at each other as they - started to rise to their feet. -

-

“The wolf’s nailed somebody,” Matt said.

-

A wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them.

-

“Bring a light!” Scott shouted, as he sprang outside.

-

- Matt followed with the lamp, and by its light they saw a man lying - on his back in the snow. His arms were folded, one above the other, - across his face and throat. Thus he was trying to shield himself - from White Fang’s teeth. And there was need for it. White Fang was - in a rage, wickedly making his attack on the most vulnerable spot. - From shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms, the coat-sleeve, blue - flannel shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags, while the arms - themselves were terribly slashed and streaming blood. -

-

- All this the two men saw in the first instant. The next instant - Weedon Scott had White Fang by the throat and was dragging him - clear. White Fang struggled and snarled, but made no attempt to - bite, while he quickly quieted down at a sharp word from the master. -

-

- Matt helped the man to his feet. As he arose he lowered his crossed - arms, exposing the bestial face of Beauty Smith. The dog-musher let - go of him precipitately, with action similar to that of a man who - has picked up live fire. Beauty Smith blinked in the lamplight and - looked about him. He caught sight of White Fang and terror rushed - into his face. -

-

- At the same moment Matt noticed two objects lying in the snow. He - held the lamp close to them, indicating them with his toe for his - employer’s benefit—a steel dog-chain and a stout club. -

-

- Weedon Scott saw and nodded. Not a word was spoken. The dog-musher - laid his hand on Beauty Smith’s shoulder and faced him to the right - about. No word needed to be spoken. Beauty Smith started. -

-

- In the meantime the love-master was patting White Fang and talking - to him. -

-

- “Tried to steal you, eh? And you wouldn’t have it! Well, well, he - made a mistake, didn’t he?” -

-

- “Must ‘a’ thought he had hold of seventeen devils,” the dog-musher - sniggered. -

-

- White Fang, still wrought up and bristling, growled and growled, the - hair slowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, but - growing in his throat. -

-
-
-
-

Part V

-
-

- Chapter IThe Long Trail -

-

- It was in the air. White Fang sensed the coming calamity, even - before there was tangible evidence of it. In vague ways it was borne - in upon him that a change was impending. He knew not how nor why, - yet he got his feel of the oncoming event from the gods themselves. - In ways subtler than they knew, they betrayed their intentions to - the wolf-dog that haunted the cabin-stoop, and that, though he never - came inside the cabin, knew what went on inside their brains. -

-

- “Listen to that, will you!” the dug-musher exclaimed at supper one - night. -

-

- Weedon Scott listened. Through the door came a low, anxious whine, - like a sobbing under the breath that had just grown audible. Then - came the long sniff, as White Fang reassured himself that his god - was still inside and had not yet taken himself off in mysterious and - solitary flight. -

-

“I do believe that wolf’s on to you,” the dog-musher said.

-

- Weedon Scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost - pleaded, though this was given the lie by his words. -

-

- “What the devil can I do with a wolf in California?” he demanded. -

-

- “That’s what I say,” Matt answered. “What the devil can you do with - a wolf in California?” -

-

- But this did not satisfy Weedon Scott. The other seemed to be - judging him in a non-committal sort of way. -

-

- “White man’s dogs would have no show against him,” Scott went on. - “He’d kill them on sight. If he didn’t bankrupt me with damaged - suits, the authorities would take him away from me and electrocute - him.” -

-

- “He’s a downright murderer, I know,” was the dog-musher’s comment. -

-

Weedon Scott looked at him suspiciously.

-

“It would never do,” he said decisively.

-

- “It would never do!” Matt concurred. “Why you’d have to hire a man - ’specially to take care of ’m.” -

-

- The other suspicion was allayed. He nodded cheerfully. In the - silence that followed, the low, half-sobbing whine was heard at the - door and then the long, questing sniff. -

-

- “There’s no denyin’ he thinks a hell of a lot of you,” Matt said. -

-

- The other glared at him in sudden wrath. “Damn it all, man! I know - my own mind and what’s best!” -

-

“I’m agreein’ with you, only . . . ”

-

“Only what?” Scott snapped out.

-

- “Only . . . ” the dog-musher began softly, then changed his mind and - betrayed a rising anger of his own. “Well, you needn’t get so - all-fired het up about it. Judgin’ by your actions one’d think you - didn’t know your own mind.” -

-

- Weedon Scott debated with himself for a while, and then said more - gently: “You are right, Matt. I don’t know my own mind, and that’s - what’s the trouble.” -

-

- “Why, it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog - along,” he broke out after another pause. -

-

- “I’m agreein’ with you,” was Matt’s answer, and again his employer - was not quite satisfied with him. -

-

- “But how in the name of the great Sardanapolis he knows you’re goin’ - is what gets me,” the dog-musher continued innocently. -

-

- “It’s beyond me, Matt,” Scott answered, with a mournful shake of the - head. -

-

- Then came the day when, through the open cabin door, White Fang saw - the fatal grip on the floor and the love-master packing things into - it. Also, there were comings and goings, and the erstwhile placid - atmosphere of the cabin was vexed with strange perturbations and - unrest. Here was indubitable evidence. White Fang had already - scented it. He now reasoned it. His god was preparing for another - flight. And since he had not taken him with him before, so, now, he - could look to be left behind. -

-

- That night he lifted the long wolf-howl. As he had howled, in his - puppy days, when he fled back from the Wild to the village to find - it vanished and naught but a rubbish-heap to mark the site of Grey - Beaver’s tepee, so now he pointed his muzzle to the cold stars and - told to them his woe. -

-

Inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed.

-

“He’s gone off his food again,” Matt remarked from his bunk.

-

- There was a grunt from Weedon Scott’s bunk, and a stir of blankets. -

-

- “From the way he cut up the other time you went away, I wouldn’t - wonder this time but what he died.” -

-

The blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably.

-

- “Oh, shut up!” Scott cried out through the darkness. “You nag worse - than a woman.” -

-

- “I’m agreein’ with you,” the dog-musher answered, and Weedon Scott - was not quite sure whether or not the other had snickered. -

-

- The next day White Fang’s anxiety and restlessness were even more - pronounced. He dogged his master’s heels whenever he left the cabin, - and haunted the front stoop when he remained inside. Through the - open door he could catch glimpses of the luggage on the floor. The - grip had been joined by two large canvas bags and a box. Matt was - rolling the master’s blankets and fur robe inside a small tarpaulin. - White Fang whined as he watched the operation. -

-

- Later on two Indians arrived. He watched them closely as they - shouldered the luggage and were led off down the hill by Matt, who - carried the bedding and the grip. But White Fang did not follow - them. The master was still in the cabin. After a time, Matt - returned. The master came to the door and called White Fang inside. -

-

- “You poor devil,” he said gently, rubbing White Fang’s ears and - tapping his spine. “I’m hitting the long trail, old man, where you - cannot follow. Now give me a growl—the last, good, good-bye growl.” -

-

- But White Fang refused to growl. Instead, and after a wistful, - searching look, he snuggled in, burrowing his head out of sight - between the master’s arm and body. -

-

- “There she blows!” Matt cried. From the Yukon arose the hoarse - bellowing of a river steamboat. “You’ve got to cut it short. Be sure - and lock the front door. I’ll go out the back. Get a move on!” -

-

- The two doors slammed at the same moment, and Weedon Scott waited - for Matt to come around to the front. From inside the door came a - low whining and sobbing. Then there were long, deep-drawn sniffs. -

-

- “You must take good care of him, Matt,” Scott said, as they started - down the hill. “Write and let me know how he gets along.” -

-

- “Sure,” the dog-musher answered. “But listen to that, will you!” -

-

- Both men stopped. White Fang was howling as dogs howl when their - masters lie dead. He was voicing an utter woe, his cry bursting - upward in great heart-breaking rushes, dying down into quavering - misery, and bursting upward again with a rush upon rush of grief. -

-

- The Aurora was the first steamboat of the year for the - Outside, and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and - broken gold seekers, all equally as mad to get to the Outside as - they had been originally to get to the Inside. Near the gang-plank, - Scott was shaking hands with Matt, who was preparing to go ashore. - But Matt’s hand went limp in the other’s grasp as his gaze shot past - and remained fixed on something behind him. Scott turned to see. - Sitting on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was - White Fang. -

-

- The dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents. Scott could - only look in wonder. -

-

- “Did you lock the front door?” Matt demanded. The other nodded, and - asked, “How about the back?” -

-

“You just bet I did,” was the fervent reply.

-

- White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where he - was, making no attempt to approach. -

-

“I’ll have to take ’m ashore with me.”

-

- Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang, but the latter slid - away from him. The dog-musher made a rush of it, and White Fang - dodged between the legs of a group of men. Ducking, turning, - doubling, he slid about the deck, eluding the other’s efforts to - capture him. -

-

- But when the love-master spoke, White Fang came to him with prompt - obedience. -

-

- “Won’t come to the hand that’s fed ’m all these months,” the - dog-musher muttered resentfully. “And you—you ain’t never fed ’m - after them first days of gettin’ acquainted. I’m blamed if I can see - how he works it out that you’re the boss.” -

-

- Scott, who had been patting White Fang, suddenly bent closer and - pointed out fresh-made cuts on his muzzle, and a gash between the - eyes. -

-

Matt bent over and passed his hand along White Fang’s belly.

-

- “We plump forgot the window. He’s all cut an’ gouged underneath. - Must ‘a’ butted clean through it, b’gosh!” -

-

- But Weedon Scott was not listening. He was thinking rapidly. The - Aurora’s whistle hooted a final announcement of departure. - Men were scurrying down the gang-plank to the shore. Matt loosened - the bandana from his own neck and started to put it around White - Fang’s. Scott grasped the dog-musher’s hand. -

-

- “Good-bye, Matt, old man. About the wolf—you needn’t write. You see, - I’ve . . . !” -

-

“What!” the dog-musher exploded. “You don’t mean to say . . .?”

-

- “The very thing I mean. Here’s your bandana. I’ll write to you about - him.” -

-

Matt paused halfway down the gang-plank.

-

- “He’ll never stand the climate!” he shouted back. “Unless you clip - ’m in warm weather!” -

-

- The gang-plank was hauled in, and the Aurora swung out from - the bank. Weedon Scott waved a last good-bye. Then he turned and - bent over White Fang, standing by his side. -

-

- “Now growl, damn you, growl,” he said, as he patted the responsive - head and rubbed the flattening ears. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIThe Southland -

-

- White Fang landed from the steamer in San Francisco. He was - appalled. Deep in him, below any reasoning process or act of - consciousness, he had associated power with godhead. And never had - the white men seemed such marvellous gods as now, when he trod the - slimy pavement of San Francisco. The log cabins he had known were - replaced by towering buildings. The streets were crowded with - perils—waggons, carts, automobiles; great, straining horses pulling - huge trucks; and monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and - clanging through the midst, screeching their insistent menace after - the manner of the lynxes he had known in the northern woods. -

-

- All this was the manifestation of power. Through it all, behind it - all, was man, governing and controlling, expressing himself, as of - old, by his mastery over matter. It was colossal, stunning. White - Fang was awed. Fear sat upon him. As in his cubhood he had been made - to feel his smallness and puniness on the day he first came in from - the Wild to the village of Grey Beaver, so now, in his full-grown - stature and pride of strength, he was made to feel small and puny. - And there were so many gods! He was made dizzy by the swarming of - them. The thunder of the streets smote upon his ears. He was - bewildered by the tremendous and endless rush and movement of - things. As never before, he felt his dependence on the love-master, - close at whose heels he followed, no matter what happened never - losing sight of him. -

-

- But White Fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the - city—an experience that was like a bad dream, unreal and terrible, - that haunted him for long after in his dreams. He was put into a - baggage-car by the master, chained in a corner in the midst of - heaped trunks and valises. Here a squat and brawny god held sway, - with much noise, hurling trunks and boxes about, dragging them in - through the door and tossing them into the piles, or flinging them - out of the door, smashing and crashing, to other gods who awaited - them. -

-

- And here, in this inferno of luggage, was White Fang deserted by the - master. Or at least White Fang thought he was deserted, until he - smelled out the master’s canvas clothes-bags alongside of him, and - proceeded to mount guard over them. -

-

- “’Bout time you come,” growled the god of the car, an hour later, - when Weedon Scott appeared at the door. “That dog of yourn won’t let - me lay a finger on your stuff.” -

-

- White Fang emerged from the car. He was astonished. The nightmare - city was gone. The car had been to him no more than a room in a - house, and when he had entered it the city had been all around him. - In the interval the city had disappeared. The roar of it no longer - dinned upon his ears. Before him was smiling country, streaming with - sunshine, lazy with quietude. But he had little time to marvel at - the transformation. He accepted it as he accepted all the - unaccountable doings and manifestations of the gods. It was their - way. -

-

- There was a carriage waiting. A man and a woman approached the - master. The woman’s arms went out and clutched the master around the - neck—a hostile act! The next moment Weedon Scott had torn loose from - the embrace and closed with White Fang, who had become a snarling, - raging demon. -

-

- “It’s all right, mother,” Scott was saying as he kept tight hold of - White Fang and placated him. “He thought you were going to injure - me, and he wouldn’t stand for it. It’s all right. It’s all right. - He’ll learn soon enough.” -

-

- “And in the meantime I may be permitted to love my son when his dog - is not around,” she laughed, though she was pale and weak from the - fright. -

-

- She looked at White Fang, who snarled and bristled and glared - malevolently. -

-

- “He’ll have to learn, and he shall, without postponement,” Scott - said. -

-

- He spoke softly to White Fang until he had quieted him, then his - voice became firm. -

-

“Down, sir! Down with you!”

-

- This had been one of the things taught him by the master, and White - Fang obeyed, though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly. -

-

“Now, mother.”

-

Scott opened his arms to her, but kept his eyes on White Fang.

-

“Down!” he warned. “Down!”

-

- White Fang, bristling silently, half-crouching as he rose, sank back - and watched the hostile act repeated. But no harm came of it, nor of - the embrace from the strange man-god that followed. Then the - clothes-bags were taken into the carriage, the strange gods and the - love-master followed, and White Fang pursued, now running vigilantly - behind, now bristling up to the running horses and warning them that - he was there to see that no harm befell the god they dragged so - swiftly across the earth. -

-

- At the end of fifteen minutes, the carriage swung in through a stone - gateway and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut - trees. On either side stretched lawns, their broad sweep broken here - and there by great sturdy-limbed oaks. In the near distance, in - contrast with the young-green of the tended grass, sunburnt - hay-fields showed tan and gold; while beyond were the tawny hills - and upland pastures. From the head of the lawn, on the first soft - swell from the valley-level, looked down the deep-porched, - many-windowed house. -

-

- Little opportunity was given White Fang to see all this. Hardly had - the carriage entered the grounds, when he was set upon by a - sheep-dog, bright-eyed, sharp-muzzled, righteously indignant and - angry. It was between him and the master, cutting him off. White - Fang snarled no warning, but his hair bristled as he made his silent - and deadly rush. This rush was never completed. He halted with - awkward abruptness, with stiff fore-legs bracing himself against his - momentum, almost sitting down on his haunches, so desirous was he of - avoiding contact with the dog he was in the act of attacking. It was - a female, and the law of his kind thrust a barrier between. For him - to attack her would require nothing less than a violation of his - instinct. -

-

- But with the sheep-dog it was otherwise. Being a female, she - possessed no such instinct. On the other hand, being a sheep-dog, - her instinctive fear of the Wild, and especially of the wolf, was - unusually keen. White Fang was to her a wolf, the hereditary - marauder who had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep were - first herded and guarded by some dim ancestor of hers. And so, as he - abandoned his rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact, - she sprang upon him. He snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth - in his shoulder, but beyond this made no offer to hurt her. He - backed away, stiff-legged with self-consciousness, and tried to go - around her. He dodged this way and that, and curved and turned, but - to no purpose. She remained always between him and the way he wanted - to go. -

-

“Here, Collie!” called the strange man in the carriage.

-

Weedon Scott laughed.

-

- “Never mind, father. It is good discipline. White Fang will have to - learn many things, and it’s just as well that he begins now. He’ll - adjust himself all right.” -

-

- The carriage drove on, and still Collie blocked White Fang’s way. He - tried to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling across the - lawn but she ran on the inner and smaller circle, and was always - there, facing him with her two rows of gleaming teeth. Back he - circled, across the drive to the other lawn, and again she headed - him off. -

-

- The carriage was bearing the master away. White Fang caught glimpses - of it disappearing amongst the trees. The situation was desperate. - He essayed another circle. She followed, running swiftly. And then, - suddenly, he turned upon her. It was his old fighting trick. - Shoulder to shoulder, he struck her squarely. Not only was she - overthrown. So fast had she been running that she rolled along, now - on her back, now on her side, as she struggled to stop, clawing - gravel with her feet and crying shrilly her hurt pride and - indignation. -

-

- White Fang did not wait. The way was clear, and that was all he had - wanted. She took after him, never ceasing her outcry. It was the - straightaway now, and when it came to real running, White Fang could - teach her things. She ran frantically, hysterically, straining to - the utmost, advertising the effort she was making with every leap: - and all the time White Fang slid smoothly away from her silently, - without effort, gliding like a ghost over the ground. -

-

- As he rounded the house to the porte-cochère, he came upon - the carriage. It had stopped, and the master was alighting. At this - moment, still running at top speed, White Fang became suddenly aware - of an attack from the side. It was a deer-hound rushing upon him. - White Fang tried to face it. But he was going too fast, and the - hound was too close. It struck him on the side; and such was his - forward momentum and the unexpectedness of it, White Fang was hurled - to the ground and rolled clear over. He came out of the tangle a - spectacle of malignancy, ears flattened back, lips writhing, nose - wrinkling, his teeth clipping together as the fangs barely missed - the hound’s soft throat. -

-

- The master was running up, but was too far away; and it was Collie - that saved the hound’s life. Before White Fang could spring in and - deliver the fatal stroke, and just as he was in the act of springing - in, Collie arrived. She had been out-manoeuvred and out-run, to say - nothing of her having been unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel, - and her arrival was like that of a tornado—made up of offended - dignity, justifiable wrath, and instinctive hatred for this marauder - from the Wild. She struck White Fang at right angles in the midst of - his spring, and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over. -

-

- The next moment the master arrived, and with one hand held White - Fang, while the father called off the dogs. -

-

- “I say, this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf from - the Arctic,” the master said, while White Fang calmed down under his - caressing hand. “In all his life he’s only been known once to go off - his feet, and here he’s been rolled twice in thirty seconds.” -

-

- The carriage had driven away, and other strange gods had appeared - from out the house. Some of these stood respectfully at a distance; - but two of them, women, perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the - master around the neck. White Fang, however, was beginning to - tolerate this act. No harm seemed to come of it, while the noises - the gods made were certainly not threatening. These gods also made - overtures to White Fang, but he warned them off with a snarl, and - the master did likewise with word of mouth. At such times White Fang - leaned in close against the master’s legs and received reassuring - pats on the head. -

-

- The hound, under the command, “Dick! Lie down, sir!” had gone up the - steps and lain down to one side of the porch, still growling and - keeping a sullen watch on the intruder. Collie had been taken in - charge by one of the woman-gods, who held arms around her neck and - petted and caressed her; but Collie was very much perplexed and - worried, whining and restless, outraged by the permitted presence of - this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake. -

-

- All the gods started up the steps to enter the house. White Fang - followed closely at the master’s heels. Dick, on the porch, growled, - and White Fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back. -

-

- “Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out,” - suggested Scott’s father. “After that they’ll be friends.” -

-

- “Then White Fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief - mourner at the funeral,” laughed the master. -

-

- The elder Scott looked incredulously, first at White Fang, then at - Dick, and finally at his son. -

-

“You mean . . .?”

-

- Weedon nodded his head. “I mean just that. You’d have a dead Dick - inside one minute—two minutes at the farthest.” -

-

- He turned to White Fang. “Come on, you wolf. It’s you that’ll have - to come inside.” -

-

- White Fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and across the porch, - with tail rigidly erect, keeping his eyes on Dick to guard against a - flank attack, and at the same time prepared for whatever fierce - manifestation of the unknown that might pounce out upon him from the - interior of the house. But no thing of fear pounced out, and when he - had gained the inside he scouted carefully around, looking at it and - finding it not. Then he lay down with a contented grunt at the - master’s feet, observing all that went on, ever ready to spring to - his feet and fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under - the trap-roof of the dwelling. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IIIThe God’s Domain -

-

- Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled - much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in - Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White Fang - quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further serious - trouble with the dogs. They knew more about the ways of the - Southland gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified when - he accompanied the gods inside the house. Wolf that he was, and - unprecedented as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and - they, the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction. -

-

- Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, - after which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the - premises. Had Dick had his way, they would have been good friends. - All but White Fang was averse to friendship. All he asked of other - dogs was to be let alone. His whole life he had kept aloof from his - kind, and he still desired to keep aloof. Dick’s overtures bothered - him, so he snarled Dick away. In the north he had learned the lesson - that he must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did not forget that - lesson now. But he insisted on his own privacy and self-seclusion, - and so thoroughly ignored Dick that that good-natured creature - finally gave him up and scarcely took as much interest in him as in - the hitching-post near the stable. -

-

- Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the - mandate of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in - peace. Woven into her being was the memory of countless crimes he - and his had perpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day nor a - generation were the ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. All this was - a spur to her, pricking her to retaliation. She could not fly in the - face of the gods who permitted him, but that did not prevent her - from making life miserable for him in petty ways. A feud, ages old, - was between them, and she, for one, would see to it that he was - reminded. -

-

- So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and - maltreat him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while - her persistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed - at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and - walked away stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, - he was compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to - her, his head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a - patient and bored expression. Sometimes, however, a nip on his - hind-quarters hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. - But as a rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost - solemnity. He ignored her existence whenever it was possible, and - made it a point to keep out of her way. When he saw or heard her - coming, he got up and walked off. -

-

- There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life in the - Northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated - affairs of Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family of - the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah and - Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, - and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the - love-master all the denizens of the house. -

-

- But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. - Sierra Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. - There were many persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, and - there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, Beth and - Mary. There was his wife, Alice, and then there were his children, - Weedon and Maud, toddlers of four and six. There was no way for - anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties and - relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable of - knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged to - the master. Then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, by - study of action, speech, and the very intonations of the voice, he - slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of favour they enjoyed - with the master. And by this ascertained standard, White Fang - treated them accordingly. What was of value to the master he valued; - what was dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and - guarded carefully. -

-

- Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked - children. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were not - tender that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days - of the Indian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached - him, he growled warningly and looked malignant. A cuff from the - master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their - caresses, though he growled and growled under their tiny hands, and - in the growl there was no crooning note. Later, he observed that the - boy and girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Then it was - that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him. -

-

- Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate. He yielded to the - master’s children with an ill but honest grace, and endured their - fooling as one would endure a painful operation. When he could no - longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly away from - them. But after a time, he grew even to like the children. Still he - was not demonstrative. He would not go up to them. On the other - hand, instead of walking away at sight of them, he waited for them - to come to him. And still later, it was noticed that a pleased light - came into his eyes when he saw them approaching, and that he looked - after them with an appearance of curious regret when they left him - for other amusements. -

-

- All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in his - regard, after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two reasons, - possibly, for this. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of - the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to - lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the newspaper, from - time to time favouring White Fang with a look or a - word—untroublesome tokens that he recognised White Fang’s presence - and existence. But this was only when the master was not around. - When the master appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as - White Fang was concerned. -

-

- White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make - much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. - No caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, - try as they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling - against them. This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute - trust, he reserved for the master alone. In fact, he never regarded - the members of the family in any other light than possessions of the - love-master. -

-

- Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family - and the servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, - while he merely refrained from attacking them. This because he - considered that they were likewise possessions of the master. - Between White Fang and them existed a neutrality and no more. They - cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things - just as Matt had done up in the Klondike. They were, in short, - appurtenances of the household. -

-

- Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. - The master’s domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes and - bounds. The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside was the - common domain of all gods—the roads and streets. Then inside other - fences were the particular domains of other gods. A myriad laws - governed all these things and determined conduct; yet he did not - know the speech of the gods, nor was there any way for him to learn - save by experience. He obeyed his natural impulses until they ran - him counter to some law. When this had been done a few times, he - learned the law and after that observed it. -

-

- But most potent in his education was the cuff of the master’s hand, - the censure of the master’s voice. Because of White Fang’s very - great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any - beating Grey Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. They had - hurt only the flesh of him; beneath the flesh the spirit had still - raged, splendid and invincible. But with the master the cuff was - always too light to hurt the flesh. Yet it went deeper. It was an - expression of the master’s disapproval, and White Fang’s spirit - wilted under it. -

-

- In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master’s - voice was sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right or - not. By it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. It was - the compass by which he steered and learned to chart the manners of - a new land and life. -

-

- In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. All - other animals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, - lawful spoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged among - the live things for food. It did not enter his head that in the - Southland it was otherwise. But this he was to learn early in his - residence in Santa Clara Valley. Sauntering around the corner of the - house in the early morning, he came upon a chicken that had escaped - from the chicken-yard. White Fang’s natural impulse was to eat it. A - couple of bounds, a flash of teeth and a frightened squawk, and he - had scooped in the adventurous fowl. It was farm-bred and fat and - tender; and White Fang licked his chops and decided that such fare - was good. -

-

- Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the - stables. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. He did not know White - Fang’s breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. At the first - cut of the whip, White Fang left the chicken for the man. A club - might have stopped White Fang, but not a whip. Silently, without - flinching, he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as he - leaped for the throat the groom cried out, “My God!” and staggered - backward. He dropped the whip and shielded his throat with his arms. - In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone. -

-

- The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang’s - ferocity as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still - protecting his throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he - tried to retreat to the barn. And it would have gone hard with him - had not Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s life, - she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang in frenzied - wrath. She had been right. She had known better than the blundering - gods. All her suspicions were justified. Here was the ancient - marauder up to his old tricks again. -

-

- The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away - before Collie’s wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and - circled round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her - wont, after a decent interval of chastisement. On the contrary, she - grew more excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, White - Fang flung dignity to the winds and frankly fled away from her - across the fields. -

-

- “He’ll learn to leave chickens alone,” the master said. “But I can’t - give him the lesson until I catch him in the act.” -

-

- Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than the - master had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely the - chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, - after they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of - newly hauled lumber. From there he gained the roof of a - chicken-house, passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground - inside. A moment later he was inside the house, and the slaughter - began. -

-

- In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty - white Leghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his - eyes. He whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, - at the end, with admiration. His eyes were likewise greeted by White - Fang, but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. - He carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved - a deed praiseworthy and meritorious. There was about him no - consciousness of sin. The master’s lips tightened as he faced the - disagreeable task. Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, - and in his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. Also, he held - White Fang’s nose down to the slain hens, and at the same time - cuffed him soundly. -

-

- White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the - law, and he had learned it. Then the master took him into the - chicken-yards. White Fang’s natural impulse, when he saw the live - food fluttering about him and under his very nose, was to spring - upon it. He obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the master’s - voice. They continued in the yards for half an hour. Time and again - the impulse surged over White Fang, and each time, as he yielded to - it, he was checked by the master’s voice. Thus it was he learned the - law, and ere he left the domain of the chickens, he had learned to - ignore their existence. -

-

- “You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott shook his head - sadly at luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson he had - given White Fang. “Once they’ve got the habit and the taste of blood - . . .” Again he shook his head sadly. -

-

- But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll tell you what - I’ll do,” he challenged finally. “I’ll lock White Fang in with the - chickens all afternoon.” -

-

“But think of the chickens,” objected the judge.

-

- “And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every chicken he kills, - I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm.” -

-

“But you should penalise father, too,” interpose Beth.

-

- Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around - the table. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement. -

-

- “All right.” Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. “And if, at the end - of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t harmed a chicken, for every ten - minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say - to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were sitting - on the bench and solemnly passing judgment, ‘White Fang, you are - smarter than I thought.’” -

-

- From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. - But it was a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted by the - master, White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got up and - walked over to the trough for a drink of water. The chickens he - calmly ignored. So far as he was concerned they did not exist. At - four o’clock he executed a running jump, gained the roof of the - chicken-house and leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered - gravely to the house. He had learned the law. And on the porch, - before the delighted family, Judge Scott, face to face with White - Fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you are - smarter than I thought.” -

-

- But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and - often brought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must not - touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there were - cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. In - fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was - that he must leave all live things alone. Out in the back-pasture, a - quail could flutter up under his nose unharmed. All tense and - trembling with eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and - stood still. He was obeying the will of the gods. -

-

- And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start - a jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and did - not interfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase. - And thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. In the - end he worked out the complete law. Between him and all domestic - animals there must be no hostilities. If not amity, at least - neutrality must obtain. But the other animals—the squirrels, and - quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who had never - yielded allegiance to man. They were the lawful prey of any dog. It - was only the tame that the gods protected, and between the tame - deadly strife was not permitted. The gods held the power of life and - death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous of their power. -

-

- Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities of - the Northland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of - civilisation was control, restraint—a poise of self that was as - delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time as - rigid as steel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he - must meet them all—thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, - running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the - carriage stopped. Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, - continually impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and - endless adjustments and correspondences, and compelling him, almost - always, to suppress his natural impulses. -

-

- There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This meat he - must not touch. There were cats at the houses the master visited - that must be let alone. And there were dogs everywhere that snarled - at him and that he must not attack. And then, on the crowded - sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose attention he - attracted. They would stop and look at him, point him out to one - another, examine him, talk of him, and, worst of all, pat him. And - these perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure. - Yet this endurance he achieved. Furthermore, he got over being - awkward and self-conscious. In a lofty way he received the - attentions of the multitudes of strange gods. With condescension he - accepted their condescension. On the other hand, there was something - about him that prevented great familiarity. They patted him on the - head and passed on, contented and pleased with their own daring. -

-

- But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the carriage - in the outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small boys who - made a practice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew that it was - not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here he was - compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate - it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for - civilisation. -

-

- Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the - arrangement. He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. - But there is a certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it - was this sense in him that resented the unfairness of his being - permitted no defence against the stone-throwers. He forgot that in - the covenant entered into between him and the gods they were pledged - to care for him and defend him. But one day the master sprang from - the carriage, whip in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. - After that they threw stones no more, and White Fang understood and - was satisfied. -

-

- One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way to town, - hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that - made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. Knowing his - deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing - upon White Fang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having - learned the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed - the cross-roads saloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl - kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, - yelping and bickering and insulting him. This endured for some time. - The men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang. - One day they openly sicked the dogs on him. The master stopped the - carriage. -

-

“Go to it,” he said to White Fang.

-

- But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, and he - looked at the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at - the master. -

-

- The master nodded his head. “Go to them, old fellow. Eat them up.” -

-

- White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently among - his enemies. All three faced him. There was a great snarling and - growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. The dust of - the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. But at the end of - several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third - was in full flight. He leaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, - and fled across a field. White Fang followed, sliding over the - ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without - noise, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the - dog. -

-

- With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. The - word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs - did not molest the Fighting Wolf. -

-
-
-

- Chapter IVThe Call of Kind -

-

- The months came and went. There was plenty of food and no work in - the Southland, and White Fang lived fat and prosperous and happy. - Not alone was he in the geographical Southland, for he was in the - Southland of life. Human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, - and he flourished like a flower planted in good soil. -

-

- And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. He knew the - law even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, and - he observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about - him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still - lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept. -

-

- He never chummed with other dogs. Lonely he had lived, so far as his - kind was concerned, and lonely he would continue to live. In his - puppyhood, under the persecution of Lip-lip and the puppy-pack, and - in his fighting days with Beauty Smith, he had acquired a fixed - aversion for dogs. The natural course of his life had been diverted, - and, recoiling from his kind, he had clung to the human. -

-

- Besides, all Southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion. He - aroused in them their instinctive fear of the Wild, and they greeted - him always with snarl and growl and belligerent hatred. He, on the - other hand, learned that it was not necessary to use his teeth upon - them. His naked fangs and writhing lips were uniformly efficacious, - rarely failing to send a bellowing on-rushing dog back on its - haunches. -

-

- But there was one trial in White Fang’s life—Collie. She never gave - him a moment’s peace. She was not so amenable to the law as he. She - defied all efforts of the master to make her become friends with - White Fang. Ever in his ears was sounding her sharp and nervous - snarl. She had never forgiven him the chicken-killing episode, and - persistently held to the belief that his intentions were bad. She - found him guilty before the act, and treated him accordingly. She - became a pest to him, like a policeman following him around the - stable and the hounds, and, if he even so much as glanced curiously - at a pigeon or chicken, bursting into an outcry of indignation and - wrath. His favourite way of ignoring her was to lie down, with his - head on his fore-paws, and pretend sleep. This always dumfounded and - silenced her. -

-

- With the exception of Collie, all things went well with White Fang. - He had learned control and poise, and he knew the law. He achieved a - staidness, and calmness, and philosophic tolerance. He no longer - lived in a hostile environment. Danger and hurt and death did not - lurk everywhere about him. In time, the unknown, as a thing of - terror and menace ever impending, faded away. Life was soft and - easy. It flowed along smoothly, and neither fear nor foe lurked by - the way. -

-

- He missed the snow without being aware of it. “An unduly long - summer,” would have been his thought had he thought about it; as it - was, he merely missed the snow in a vague, subconscious way. In the - same fashion, especially in the heat of summer when he suffered from - the sun, he experienced faint longings for the Northland. Their only - effect upon him, however, was to make him uneasy and restless - without his knowing what was the matter. -

-

- White Fang had never been very demonstrative. Beyond his snuggling - and the throwing of a crooning note into his love-growl, he had no - way of expressing his love. Yet it was given him to discover a third - way. He had always been susceptible to the laughter of the gods. - Laughter had affected him with madness, made him frantic with rage. - But he did not have it in him to be angry with the love-master, and - when that god elected to laugh at him in a good-natured, bantering - way, he was nonplussed. He could feel the pricking and stinging of - the old anger as it strove to rise up in him, but it strove against - love. He could not be angry; yet he had to do something. At first he - was dignified, and the master laughed the harder. Then he tried to - be more dignified, and the master laughed harder than before. In the - end, the master laughed him out of his dignity. His jaws slightly - parted, his lips lifted a little, and a quizzical expression that - was more love than humour came into his eyes. He had learned to - laugh. -

-

- Likewise he learned to romp with the master, to be tumbled down and - rolled over, and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks. In - return he feigned anger, bristling and growling ferociously, and - clipping his teeth together in snaps that had all the seeming of - deadly intention. But he never forgot himself. Those snaps were - always delivered on the empty air. At the end of such a romp, when - blow and cuff and snap and snarl were last and furious, they would - break off suddenly and stand several feet apart, glaring at each - other. And then, just as suddenly, like the sun rising on a stormy - sea, they would begin to laugh. This would always culminate with the - master’s arms going around White Fang’s neck and shoulders while the - latter crooned and growled his love-song. -

-

- But nobody else ever romped with White Fang. He did not permit it. - He stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning - snarl and bristling mane were anything but playful. That he allowed - the master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common - dog, loving here and loving there, everybody’s property for a romp - and good time. He loved with single heart and refused to cheapen - himself or his love. -

-

- The master went out on horseback a great deal, and to accompany him - was one of White Fang’s chief duties in life. In the Northland he - had evidenced his fealty by toiling in the harness; but there were - no sleds in the Southland, nor did dogs pack burdens on their backs. - So he rendered fealty in the new way, by running with the master’s - horse. The longest day never played White Fang out. His was the gait - of the wolf, smooth, tireless and effortless, and at the end of - fifty miles he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse. -

-

- It was in connection with the riding, that White Fang achieved one - other mode of expression—remarkable in that he did it but twice in - all his life. The first time occurred when the master was trying to - teach a spirited thoroughbred the method of opening and closing - gates without the rider’s dismounting. Time and again and many times - he ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to close it and - each time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away. - It grew more nervous and excited every moment. When it reared, the - master put the spurs to it and made it drop its fore-legs back to - earth, whereupon it would begin kicking with its hind-legs. White - Fang watched the performance with increasing anxiety until he could - contain himself no longer, when he sprang in front of the horse and - barked savagely and warningly. -

-

- Though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged - him, he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master’s - presence. A scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly - under the horse’s feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to earth, - and a broken leg for the master, was the cause of it. White Fang - sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending horse, but was - checked by the master’s voice. -

-

- “Home! Go home!” the master commanded when he had ascertained his - injury. -

-

- White Fang was disinclined to desert him. The master thought of - writing a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and - paper. Again he commanded White Fang to go home. -

-

- The latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and - whined softly. The master talked to him gently but seriously, and he - cocked his ears, and listened with painful intentness. -

-

- “That’s all right, old fellow, you just run along home,” ran the - talk. “Go on home and tell them what’s happened to me. Home with - you, you wolf. Get along home!” -

-

- White Fang knew the meaning of “home,” and though he did not - understand the remainder of the master’s language, he knew it was - his will that he should go home. He turned and trotted reluctantly - away. Then he stopped, undecided, and looked back over his shoulder. -

-

“Go home!” came the sharp command, and this time he obeyed.

-

- The family was on the porch, taking the cool of the afternoon, when - White Fang arrived. He came in among them, panting, covered with - dust. -

-

“Weedon’s back,” Weedon’s mother announced.

-

- The children welcomed White Fang with glad cries and ran to meet - him. He avoided them and passed down the porch, but they cornered - him against a rocking-chair and the railing. He growled and tried to - push by them. Their mother looked apprehensively in their direction. -

-

- “I confess, he makes me nervous around the children,” she said. “I - have a dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly some day.” -

-

- Growling savagely, White Fang sprang out of the corner, overturning - the boy and the girl. The mother called them to her and comforted - them, telling them not to bother White Fang. -

-

- “A wolf is a wolf!” commented Judge Scott. “There is no trusting - one.” -

-

- “But he is not all wolf,” interposed Beth, standing for her brother - in his absence. -

-

- “You have only Weedon’s opinion for that,” rejoined the judge. “He - merely surmises that there is some strain of dog in White Fang; but - as he will tell you himself, he knows nothing about it. As for his - appearance—” -

-

- He did not finish his sentence. White Fang stood before him, - growling fiercely. -

-

“Go away! Lie down, sir!” Judge Scott commanded.

-

- White Fang turned to the love-master’s wife. She screamed with - fright as he seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till - the frail fabric tore away. By this time he had become the centre of - interest. -

-

- He had ceased from his growling and stood, head up, looking into - their faces. His throat worked spasmodically, but made no sound, - while he struggled with all his body, convulsed with the effort to - rid himself of the incommunicable something that strained for - utterance. -

-

- “I hope he is not going mad,” said Weedon’s mother. “I told Weedon - that I was afraid the warm climate would not agree with an Arctic - animal.” -

-

“He’s trying to speak, I do believe,” Beth announced.

-

- At this moment speech came to White Fang, rushing up in a great - burst of barking. -

-

“Something has happened to Weedon,” his wife said decisively.

-

- They were all on their feet now, and White Fang ran down the steps, - looking back for them to follow. For the second and last time in his - life he had barked and made himself understood. -

-

- After this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the Sierra - Vista people, and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted - that he was a wise dog even if he was a wolf. Judge Scott still held - to the same opinion, and proved it to everybody’s dissatisfaction by - measurements and descriptions taken from the encyclopaedia and - various works on natural history. -

-

- The days came and went, streaming their unbroken sunshine over the - Santa Clara Valley. But as they grew shorter and White Fang’s second - winter in the Southland came on, he made a strange discovery. - Collie’s teeth were no longer sharp. There was a playfulness about - her nips and a gentleness that prevented them from really hurting - him. He forgot that she had made life a burden to him, and when she - disported herself around him he responded solemnly, striving to be - playful and becoming no more than ridiculous. -

-

- One day she led him off on a long chase through the back-pasture - land into the woods. It was the afternoon that the master was to - ride, and White Fang knew it. The horse stood saddled and waiting at - the door. White Fang hesitated. But there was that in him deeper - than all the law he had learned, than the customs that had moulded - him, than his love for the master, than the very will to live of - himself; and when, in the moment of his indecision, Collie nipped - him and scampered off, he turned and followed after. The master rode - alone that day; and in the woods, side by side, White Fang ran with - Collie, as his mother, Kiche, and old One Eye had run long years - before in the silent Northland forest. -

-
-
-

- Chapter VThe Sleeping Wolf -

-

- It was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring - escape of a convict from San Quentin prison. He was a ferocious man. - He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been born right, and - he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received at the - hands of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this man was a - striking sample of its handiwork. He was a beast—a human beast, it - is true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he can best be - characterised as carnivorous. -

-

- In San Quentin prison he had proved incorrigible. Punishment failed - to break his spirit. He could die dumb-mad and fighting to the last, - but he could not live and be beaten. The more fiercely he fought, - the more harshly society handled him, and the only effect of - harshness was to make him fiercer. Strait-jackets, starvation, and - beatings and clubbings were the wrong treatment for Jim Hall; but it - was the treatment he received. It was the treatment he had received - from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a San Francisco slum—soft - clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed into something. -

-

- It was during Jim Hall’s third term in prison that he encountered a - guard that was almost as great a beast as he. The guard treated him - unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost his credits, persecuted - him. The difference between them was that the guard carried a bunch - of keys and a revolver. Jim Hall had only his naked hands and his - teeth. But he sprang upon the guard one day and used his teeth on - the other’s throat just like any jungle animal. -

-

- After this, Jim Hall went to live in the incorrigible cell. He lived - there three years. The cell was of iron, the floor, the walls, the - roof. He never left this cell. He never saw the sky nor the - sunshine. Day was a twilight and night was a black silence. He was - in an iron tomb, buried alive. He saw no human face, spoke to no - human thing. When his food was shoved in to him, he growled like a - wild animal. He hated all things. For days and nights he bellowed - his rage at the universe. For weeks and months he never made a - sound, in the black silence eating his very soul. He was a man and a - monstrosity, as fearful a thing of fear as ever gibbered in the - visions of a maddened brain. -

-

- And then, one night, he escaped. The warders said it was impossible, - but nevertheless the cell was empty, and half in half out of it lay - the body of a dead guard. Two other dead guards marked his trail - through the prison to the outer walls, and he had killed with his - hands to avoid noise. -

-

- He was armed with the weapons of the slain guards—a live arsenal - that fled through the hills pursued by the organised might of - society. A heavy price of gold was upon his head. Avaricious farmers - hunted him with shot-guns. His blood might pay off a mortgage or - send a son to college. Public-spirited citizens took down their - rifles and went out after him. A pack of bloodhounds followed the - way of his bleeding feet. And the sleuth-hounds of the law, the paid - fighting animals of society, with telephone, and telegraph, and - special train, clung to his trail night and day. -

-

- Sometimes they came upon him, and men faced him like heroes, or - stampeded through barbed-wire fences to the delight of the - commonwealth reading the account at the breakfast table. It was - after such encounters that the dead and wounded were carted back to - the towns, and their places filled by men eager for the man-hunt. -

-

- And then Jim Hall disappeared. The bloodhounds vainly quested on the - lost trail. Inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were held up by - armed men and compelled to identify themselves. While the remains of - Jim Hall were discovered on a dozen mountain-sides by greedy - claimants for blood-money. -

-

- In the meantime the newspapers were read at Sierra Vista, not so - much with interest as with anxiety. The women were afraid. Judge - Scott pooh-poohed and laughed, but not with reason, for it was in - his last days on the bench that Jim Hall had stood before him and - received sentence. And in open court-room, before all men, Jim Hall - had proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak vengeance - on the Judge that sentenced him. -

-

- For once, Jim Hall was right. He was innocent of the crime for which - he was sentenced. It was a case, in the parlance of thieves and - police, of “rail-roading.” Jim Hall was being “rail-roaded” to - prison for a crime he had not committed. Because of the two prior - convictions against him, Judge Scott imposed upon him a sentence of - fifty years. -

-

- Judge Scott did not know all things, and he did not know that he was - party to a police conspiracy, that the evidence was hatched and - perjured, that Jim Hall was guiltless of the crime charged. And Jim - Hall, on the other hand, did not know that Judge Scott was merely - ignorant. Jim Hall believed that the judge knew all about it and was - hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of the monstrous - injustice. So it was, when the doom of fifty years of living death - was uttered by Judge Scott, that Jim Hall, hating all things in the - society that misused him, rose up and raged in the court-room until - dragged down by half a dozen of his blue-coated enemies. To him, - Judge Scott was the keystone in the arch of injustice, and upon - Judge Scott he emptied the vials of his wrath and hurled the threats - of his revenge yet to come. Then Jim Hall went to his living death . - . . and escaped. -

-

- Of all this White Fang knew nothing. But between him and Alice, the - master’s wife, there existed a secret. Each night, after Sierra - Vista had gone to bed, she rose and let in White Fang to sleep in - the big hall. Now White Fang was not a house-dog, nor was he - permitted to sleep in the house; so each morning, early, she slipped - down and let him out before the family was awake. -

-

- On one such night, while all the house slept, White Fang awoke and - lay very quietly. And very quietly he smelled the air and read the - message it bore of a strange god’s presence. And to his ears came - sounds of the strange god’s movements. White Fang burst into no - furious outcry. It was not his way. The strange god walked softly, - but more softly walked White Fang, for he had no clothes to rub - against the flesh of his body. He followed silently. In the Wild he - had hunted live meat that was infinitely timid, and he knew the - advantage of surprise. -

-

- The strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and - listened, and White Fang was as dead, so without movement was he as - he watched and waited. Up that staircase the way led to the - love-master and to the love-master’s dearest possessions. White Fang - bristled, but waited. The strange god’s foot lifted. He was - beginning the ascent. -

-

- Then it was that White Fang struck. He gave no warning, with no - snarl anticipated his own action. Into the air he lifted his body in - the spring that landed him on the strange god’s back. White Fang - clung with his fore-paws to the man’s shoulders, at the same time - burying his fangs into the back of the man’s neck. He clung on for a - moment, long enough to drag the god over backward. Together they - crashed to the floor. White Fang leaped clear, and, as the man - struggled to rise, was in again with the slashing fangs. -

-

- Sierra Vista awoke in alarm. The noise from downstairs was as that - of a score of battling fiends. There were revolver shots. A man’s - voice screamed once in horror and anguish. There was a great - snarling and growling, and over all arose a smashing and crashing of - furniture and glass. -

-

- But almost as quickly as it had arisen, the commotion died away. The - struggle had not lasted more than three minutes. The frightened - household clustered at the top of the stairway. From below, as from - out an abyss of blackness, came up a gurgling sound, as of air - bubbling through water. Sometimes this gurgle became sibilant, - almost a whistle. But this, too, quickly died down and ceased. Then - naught came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of some - creature struggling sorely for air. -

-

- Weedon Scott pressed a button, and the staircase and downstairs hall - were flooded with light. Then he and Judge Scott, revolvers in hand, - cautiously descended. There was no need for this caution. White Fang - had done his work. In the midst of the wreckage of overthrown and - smashed furniture, partly on his side, his face hidden by an arm, - lay a man. Weedon Scott bent over, removed the arm and turned the - man’s face upward. A gaping throat explained the manner of his - death. -

-

- “Jim Hall,” said Judge Scott, and father and son looked - significantly at each other. -

-

- Then they turned to White Fang. He, too, was lying on his side. His - eyes were closed, but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look - at them as they bent over him, and the tail was perceptibly agitated - in a vain effort to wag. Weedon Scott patted him, and his throat - rumbled an acknowledging growl. But it was a weak growl at best, and - it quickly ceased. His eyelids drooped and went shut, and his whole - body seemed to relax and flatten out upon the floor. -

-

“He’s all in, poor devil,” muttered the master.

-

- “We’ll see about that,” asserted the Judge, as he started for the - telephone. -

-

- “Frankly, he has one chance in a thousand,” announced the surgeon, - after he had worked an hour and a half on White Fang. -

-

- Dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric - lights. With the exception of the children, the whole family was - gathered about the surgeon to hear his verdict. -

-

- “One broken hind-leg,” he went on. “Three broken ribs, one at least - of which has pierced the lungs. He has lost nearly all the blood in - his body. There is a large likelihood of internal injuries. He must - have been jumped upon. To say nothing of three bullet holes clear - through him. One chance in a thousand is really optimistic. He - hasn’t a chance in ten thousand.” -

-

- “But he mustn’t lose any chance that might be of help to him,” Judge - Scott exclaimed. “Never mind expense. Put him under the - X-ray—anything. Weedon, telegraph at once to San Francisco for - Doctor Nichols. No reflection on you, doctor, you understand; but he - must have the advantage of every chance.” -

-

- The surgeon smiled indulgently. “Of course I understand. He deserves - all that can be done for him. He must be nursed as you would nurse a - human being, a sick child. And don’t forget what I told you about - temperature. I’ll be back at ten o’clock again.” -

-

- White Fang received the nursing. Judge Scott’s suggestion of a - trained nurse was indignantly clamoured down by the girls, who - themselves undertook the task. And White Fang won out on the one - chance in ten thousand denied him by the surgeon. -

-

- The latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment. All his life - he had tended and operated on the soft humans of civilisation, who - lived sheltered lives and had descended out of many sheltered - generations. Compared with White Fang, they were frail and flabby, - and clutched life without any strength in their grip. White Fang had - come straight from the Wild, where the weak perish early and shelter - is vouchsafed to none. In neither his father nor his mother was - there any weakness, nor in the generations before them. A - constitution of iron and the vitality of the Wild were White Fang’s - inheritance, and he clung to life, the whole of him and every part - of him, in spirit and in flesh, with the tenacity that of old - belonged to all creatures. -

-

- Bound down a prisoner, denied even movement by the plaster casts and - bandages, White Fang lingered out the weeks. He slept long hours and - dreamed much, and through his mind passed an unending pageant of - Northland visions. All the ghosts of the past arose and were with - him. Once again he lived in the lair with Kiche, crept trembling to - the knees of Grey Beaver to tender his allegiance, ran for his life - before Lip-lip and all the howling bedlam of the puppy-pack. -

-

- He ran again through the silence, hunting his living food through - the months of famine; and again he ran at the head of the team, the - gut-whips of Mit-sah and Grey Beaver snapping behind, their voices - crying “Ra! Raa!” when they came to a narrow passage and the team - closed together like a fan to go through. He lived again all his - days with Beauty Smith and the fights he had fought. At such times - he whimpered and snarled in his sleep, and they that looked on said - that his dreams were bad. -

-

- But there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered—the - clanking, clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him - colossal screaming lynxes. He would lie in a screen of bushes, - watching for a squirrel to venture far enough out on the ground from - its tree-refuge. Then, when he sprang out upon it, it would - transform itself into an electric car, menacing and terrible, - towering over him like a mountain, screaming and clanging and - spitting fire at him. It was the same when he challenged the hawk - down out of the sky. Down out of the blue it would rush, as it - dropped upon him changing itself into the ubiquitous electric car. - Or again, he would be in the pen of Beauty Smith. Outside the pen, - men would be gathering, and he knew that a fight was on. He watched - the door for his antagonist to enter. The door would open, and - thrust in upon him would come the awful electric car. A thousand - times this occurred, and each time the terror it inspired was as - vivid and great as ever. -

-

- Then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast - were taken off. It was a gala day. All Sierra Vista was gathered - around. The master rubbed his ears, and he crooned his love-growl. - The master’s wife called him the “Blessed Wolf,” which name was - taken up with acclaim and all the women called him the Blessed Wolf. -

-

- He tried to rise to his feet, and after several attempts fell down - from weakness. He had lain so long that his muscles had lost their - cunning, and all the strength had gone out of them. He felt a little - shame because of his weakness, as though, forsooth, he were failing - the gods in the service he owed them. Because of this he made heroic - efforts to arise and at last he stood on his four legs, tottering - and swaying back and forth. -

-

“The Blessed Wolf!” chorused the women.

-

Judge Scott surveyed them triumphantly.

-

- “Out of your own mouths be it,” he said. “Just as I contended right - along. No mere dog could have done what he did. He’s a wolf.” -

-

“A Blessed Wolf,” amended the Judge’s wife.

-

- “Yes, Blessed Wolf,” agreed the Judge. “And henceforth that shall be - my name for him.” -

-

- “He’ll have to learn to walk again,” said the surgeon; “so he might - as well start in right now. It won’t hurt him. Take him outside.” -

-

- And outside he went, like a king, with all Sierra Vista about him - and tending on him. He was very weak, and when he reached the lawn - he lay down and rested for a while. -

-

- Then the procession started on, little spurts of strength coming - into White Fang’s muscles as he used them and the blood began to - surge through them. The stables were reached, and there in the - doorway, lay Collie, a half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her in - the sun. -

-

- White Fang looked on with a wondering eye. Collie snarled warningly - at him, and he was careful to keep his distance. The master with his - toe helped one sprawling puppy toward him. He bristled suspiciously, - but the master warned him that all was well. Collie, clasped in the - arms of one of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl - warned him that all was not well. -

-

- The puppy sprawled in front of him. He cocked his ears and watched - it curiously. Then their noses touched, and he felt the warm little - tongue of the puppy on his jowl. White Fang’s tongue went out, he - knew not why, and he licked the puppy’s face. -

-

- Hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the - performance. He was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. - Then his weakness asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, - his head on one side, as he watched the puppy. The other puppies - came sprawling toward him, to Collie’s great disgust; and he gravely - permitted them to clamber and tumble over him. At first, amid the - applause of the gods, he betrayed a trifle of his old - self-consciousness and awkwardness. This passed away as the puppies’ - antics and mauling continued, and he lay with half-shut patient - eyes, drowsing in the sun. -

-
-
-
- - - diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.md deleted file mode 100644 index a15b3fd..0000000 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Fang.md +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7009 +0,0 @@ -
-

White Fang

-
By Jack London
-
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net - -Transcribed from the 1915 Methuen and Co edition by David Price, -email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. -
-
- -
-
-

Part I

-
-

-Chapter IThe Trail of the Meat

-

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. -The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering -of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, -in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. -The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone -and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There -was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any -sadness—a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, -a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. -It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing -at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, -the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

-

But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. -Down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their -bristly fur was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air -as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled -upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. -Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to -a sled which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. -It was made of stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the -snow. The front end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, -in order to force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like -a wave before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and -narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled—blankets, -an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most -of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box.

-

In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At -the rear of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the -box, lay a third man whose toil was over,—a man whom the Wild -had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle -again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement. Life -is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always -to destroy movement. It freezes the water to prevent it running -to the sea; it drives the sap out of the trees till they are frozen -to their mighty hearts; and most ferociously and terribly of all does -the Wild harry and crush into submission man—man who is the most -restless of life, ever in revolt against the dictum that all movement -must in the end come to the cessation of movement.

-

But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men -who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and -soft-tanned leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated -with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not -discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers -in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But under it -all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and -silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves -against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the -abysses of space.

-

They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work -of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon -them with a tangible presence. It affected their minds as the -many atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. It -crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. -It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing -out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and exaltations -and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived themselves -finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and little -wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the great blind elements and -forces.

-

An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short -sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the -still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached -its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then -slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had -it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. -The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man -behind. And then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to -the other.

-

A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle-like shrillness. -Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the -snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry -arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry.

-

“They’re after us, Bill,” said the man at the front.

-

His voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent -effort.

-

“Meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. “I -ain’t seen a rabbit sign for days.”

-

Thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the -hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them.

-

At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce -trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, -at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, -clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, -but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness.

-

“Seems to me, Henry, they’re stayin’ remarkable -close to camp,” Bill commented.

-

Henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with -a piece of ice, nodded. Nor did he speak till he had taken his -seat on the coffin and begun to eat.

-

“They know where their hides is safe,” he said. -“They’d sooner eat grub than be grub. They’re -pretty wise, them dogs.”

-

Bill shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know.”

-

His comrade looked at him curiously. “First time I ever -heard you say anything about their not bein’ wise.”

-

“Henry,” said the other, munching with deliberation the -beans he was eating, “did you happen to notice the way them dogs -kicked up when I was a-feedin’ ’em?”

-

“They did cut up more’n usual,” Henry acknowledged.

-

“How many dogs ’ve we got, Henry?”

-

“Six.”

-

“Well, Henry . . . ” Bill stopped for a moment, in order -that his words might gain greater significance. “As I was -sayin’, Henry, we’ve got six dogs. I took six fish -out of the bag. I gave one fish to each dog, an’, Henry, -I was one fish short.”

-

“You counted wrong.”

-

“We’ve got six dogs,” the other reiterated dispassionately. -“I took out six fish. One Ear didn’t get no fish. -I came back to the bag afterward an’ got ’m his fish.”

-

“We’ve only got six dogs,” Henry said.

-

“Henry,” Bill went on. “I won’t say -they was all dogs, but there was seven of ’m that got fish.”

-

Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs.

-

“There’s only six now,” he said.

-

“I saw the other one run off across the snow,” Bill announced -with cool positiveness. “I saw seven.”

-

Henry looked at him commiseratingly, and said, “I’ll -be almighty glad when this trip’s over.”

-

“What d’ye mean by that?” Bill demanded.

-

“I mean that this load of ourn is gettin’ on your nerves, -an’ that you’re beginnin’ to see things.”

-

“I thought of that,” Bill answered gravely. “An’ -so, when I saw it run off across the snow, I looked in the snow an’ -saw its tracks. Then I counted the dogs an’ there was still -six of ’em. The tracks is there in the snow now. D’ye -want to look at ’em? I’ll show ’em to you.”

-

Henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal finished, -he topped it with a final cup of coffee. He wiped his mouth with -the back of his hand and said:

-

“Then you’re thinkin’ as it was—”

-

A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, -had interrupted him. He stopped to listen to it, then he finished -his sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, “—one -of them?”

-

Bill nodded. “I’d a blame sight sooner think that -than anything else. You noticed yourself the row the dogs made.”

-

Cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into -a bedlam. From every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed -their fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their -hair was scorched by the heat. Bill threw on more wood, before -lighting his pipe.

-

“I’m thinking you’re down in the mouth some,” -Henry said.

-

“Henry . . . ” He sucked meditatively at his pipe -for some time before he went on. “Henry, I was a-thinkin’ -what a blame sight luckier he is than you an’ me’ll ever -be.”

-

He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to -the box on which they sat.

-

“You an’ me, Henry, when we die, we’ll be lucky -if we get enough stones over our carcases to keep the dogs off of us.”

-

“But we ain’t got people an’ money an’ all -the rest, like him,” Henry rejoined. “Long-distance -funerals is somethin’ you an’ me can’t exactly afford.”

-

“What gets me, Henry, is what a chap like this, that’s -a lord or something in his own country, and that’s never had to -bother about grub nor blankets; why he comes a-buttin’ round the -Godforsaken ends of the earth—that’s what I can’t -exactly see.”

-

“He might have lived to a ripe old age if he’d stayed -at home,” Henry agreed.

-

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, -he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed about them from -every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; -only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry -indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of -the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again a -pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later.

-

The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in -a surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and crawling -about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs had -been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with pain -and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. -The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment -and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs became -quiet.

-

“Henry, it’s a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition.”

-

Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread -the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid -over the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing -his moccasins.

-

“How many cartridges did you say you had left?” he asked.

-

“Three,” came the answer. “An’ I wisht -’twas three hundred. Then I’d show ’em what -for, damn ’em!”

-

He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely -to prop his moccasins before the fire.

-

“An’ I wisht this cold snap’d break,” he -went on. “It’s ben fifty below for two weeks now. -An’ I wisht I’d never started on this trip, Henry. -I don’t like the looks of it. I don’t feel right, -somehow. An’ while I’m wishin’, I wisht the -trip was over an’ done with, an’ you an’ me a-sittin’ -by the fire in Fort McGurry just about now an’ playing cribbage—that’s -what I wisht.”

-

Henry grunted and crawled into bed. As he dozed off he was -aroused by his comrade’s voice.

-

“Say, Henry, that other one that come in an’ got a fish—why -didn’t the dogs pitch into it? That’s what’s -botherin’ me.”

-

“You’re botherin’ too much, Bill,” came the -sleepy response. “You was never like this before. -You jes’ shut up now, an’ go to sleep, an’ you’ll -be all hunkydory in the mornin’. Your stomach’s sour, -that’s what’s botherin’ you.”

-

The men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one covering. -The fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the circle they -had flung about the camp. The dogs clustered together in fear, -now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close. -Once their uproar became so loud that Bill woke up. He got out -of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, and -threw more wood on the fire. As it began to flame up, the circle -of eyes drew farther back. He glanced casually at the huddling -dogs. He rubbed his eyes and looked at them more sharply. -Then he crawled back into the blankets.

-

“Henry,” he said. “Oh, Henry.”

-

Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, “What’s -wrong now?”

-

“Nothin’,” came the answer; “only there’s -seven of ’em again. I just counted.”

-

Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid -into a snore as he drifted back into sleep.

-

In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion -out of bed. Daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already -six o’clock; and in the darkness Henry went about preparing breakfast, -while Bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready for lashing.

-

“Say, Henry,” he asked suddenly, “how many dogs -did you say we had?”

-

“Six.”

-

“Wrong,” Bill proclaimed triumphantly.

-

“Seven again?” Henry queried.

-

“No, five; one’s gone.”

-

“The hell!” Henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking -to come and count the dogs.

-

“You’re right, Bill,” he concluded. “Fatty’s -gone.”

-

“An’ he went like greased lightnin’ once he got -started. Couldn’t ’ve seen ’m for smoke.”

-

“No chance at all,” Henry concluded. “They -jes’ swallowed ’m alive. I bet he was yelpin’ -as he went down their throats, damn ’em!”

-

“He always was a fool dog,” said Bill.

-

“But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an’ -commit suicide that way.” He looked over the remainder of -the team with a speculative eye that summed up instantly the salient -traits of each animal. “I bet none of the others would do -it.”

-

“Couldn’t drive ’em away from the fire with a club,” -Bill agreed. “I always did think there was somethin’ -wrong with Fatty anyway.”

-

And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail—less -scant than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIThe She-Wolf

-

Breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the -men turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the -darkness. At once began to rise the cries that were fiercely sad—cries -that called through the darkness and cold to one another and answered -back. Conversation ceased. Daylight came at nine o’clock. -At midday the sky to the south warmed to rose-colour, and marked where -the bulge of the earth intervened between the meridian sun and the northern -world. But the rose-colour swiftly faded. The grey light -of day that remained lasted until three o’clock, when it, too, -faded, and the pall of the Arctic night descended upon the lone and -silent land.

-

As darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear -drew closer—so close that more than once they sent surges of fear -through the toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics.

-

At the conclusion of one such panic, when he and Henry had got the -dogs back in the traces, Bill said:

-

“I wisht they’d strike game somewheres, an’ go -away an’ leave us alone.”

-

“They do get on the nerves horrible,” Henry sympathised.

-

They spoke no more until camp was made.

-

Henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans -when he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from Bill, -and a sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. He straightened -up in time to see a dim form disappearing across the snow into the shelter -of the dark. Then he saw Bill, standing amid the dogs, half triumphant, -half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in the other the tail and -part of the body of a sun-cured salmon.

-

“It got half of it,” he announced; “but I got a -whack at it jes’ the same. D’ye hear it squeal?”

-

“What’d it look like?” Henry asked.

-

“Couldn’t see. But it had four legs an’ a -mouth an’ hair an’ looked like any dog.”

-

“Must be a tame wolf, I reckon.”

-

“It’s damned tame, whatever it is, comin’ in here -at feedin’ time an’ gettin’ its whack of fish.”

-

That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box -and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even -closer than before.

-

“I wisht they’d spring up a bunch of moose or something, -an’ go away an’ leave us alone,” Bill said.

-

Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for -a quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the fire, -and Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond -the firelight.

-

“I wisht we was pullin’ into McGurry right now,” -he began again.

-

“Shut up your wishin’ and your croakin’,” -Henry burst out angrily. “Your stomach’s sour. -That’s what’s ailin’ you. Swallow a spoonful -of sody, an’ you’ll sweeten up wonderful an’ be more -pleasant company.”

-

In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded -from the mouth of Bill. Henry propped himself up on an elbow and -looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the replenished -fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face distorted with passion.

-

“Hello!” Henry called. “What’s up now?”

-

“Frog’s gone,” came the answer.

-

“No.”

-

“I tell you yes.”

-

Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. He counted -them with care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of -the Wild that had robbed them of another dog.

-

“Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch,” Bill pronounced -finally.

-

“An’ he was no fool dog neither,” Henry added.

-

And so was recorded the second epitaph in two days.

-

A gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the four remaining dogs were harnessed -to the sled. The day was a repetition of the days that had gone -before. The men toiled without speech across the face of the frozen -world. The silence was unbroken save by the cries of their pursuers, -that, unseen, hung upon their rear. With the coming of night in -the mid-afternoon, the cries sounded closer as the pursuers drew in -according to their custom; and the dogs grew excited and frightened, -and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and further depressed -the two men.

-

“There, that’ll fix you fool critters,” Bill said -with satisfaction that night, standing erect at completion of his task.

-

Henry left the cooking to come and see. Not only had his partner -tied the dogs up, but he had tied them, after the Indian fashion, with -sticks. About the neck of each dog he had fastened a leather thong. -To this, and so close to the neck that the dog could not get his teeth -to it, he had tied a stout stick four or five feet in length. -The other end of the stick, in turn, was made fast to a stake in the -ground by means of a leather thong. The dog was unable to gnaw -through the leather at his own end of the stick. The stick prevented -him from getting at the leather that fastened the other end.

-

Henry nodded his head approvingly.

-

“It’s the only contraption that’ll ever hold One -Ear,” he said. “He can gnaw through leather as clean -as a knife an’ jes’ about half as quick. They all’ll -be here in the mornin’ hunkydory.”

-

“You jes’ bet they will,” Bill affirmed. -“If one of em’ turns up missin’, I’ll go without -my coffee.”

-

“They jes’ know we ain’t loaded to kill,” -Henry remarked at bed-time, indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed -them in. “If we could put a couple of shots into ’em, -they’d be more respectful. They come closer every night. -Get the firelight out of your eyes an’ look hard—there! -Did you see that one?”

-

For some time the two men amused themselves with watching the movement -of vague forms on the edge of the firelight. By looking closely -and steadily at where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness, the form -of the animal would slowly take shape. They could even see these -forms move at times.

-

A sound among the dogs attracted the men’s attention. -One Ear was uttering quick, eager whines, lunging at the length of his -stick toward the darkness, and desisting now and again in order to make -frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth.

-

“Look at that, Bill,” Henry whispered.

-

Full into the firelight, with a stealthy, sidelong movement, glided -a doglike animal. It moved with commingled mistrust and daring, -cautiously observing the men, its attention fixed on the dogs. -One Ear strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder and -whined with eagerness.

-

“That fool One Ear don’t seem scairt much,” Bill -said in a low tone.

-

“It’s a she-wolf,” Henry whispered back, “an’ -that accounts for Fatty an’ Frog. She’s the decoy -for the pack. She draws out the dog an’ then all the rest -pitches in an’ eats ’m up.”

-

The fire crackled. A log fell apart with a loud spluttering -noise. At the sound of it the strange animal leaped back into -the darkness.

-

“Henry, I’m a-thinkin’,” Bill announced.

-

“Thinkin’ what?”

-

“I’m a-thinkin’ that was the one I lambasted with -the club.”

-

“Ain’t the slightest doubt in the world,” was Henry’s -response.

-

“An’ right here I want to remark,” Bill went on, -“that that animal’s familyarity with campfires is suspicious -an’ immoral.”

-

“It knows for certain more’n a self-respectin’ -wolf ought to know,” Henry agreed. “A wolf that knows -enough to come in with the dogs at feedin’ time has had experiences.”

-

“Ol’ Villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves,” -Bill cogitates aloud. “I ought to know. I shot it -out of the pack in a moose pasture over ‘on Little Stick. -An’ Ol’ Villan cried like a baby. Hadn’t seen -it for three years, he said. Ben with the wolves all that time.”

-

“I reckon you’ve called the turn, Bill. That wolf’s -a dog, an’ it’s eaten fish many’s the time from the -hand of man.”

-

“An if I get a chance at it, that wolf that’s a dog’ll -be jes’ meat,” Bill declared. “We can’t -afford to lose no more animals.”

-

“But you’ve only got three cartridges,” Henry objected.

-

“I’ll wait for a dead sure shot,” was the reply.

-

In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the -accompaniment of his partner’s snoring.

-

“You was sleepin’ jes’ too comfortable for anything,” -Henry told him, as he routed him out for breakfast. “I hadn’t -the heart to rouse you.”

-

Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty -and started to reach for the pot. But the pot was beyond arm’s -length and beside Henry.

-

“Say, Henry,” he chided gently, “ain’t you -forgot somethin’?”

-

Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. -Bill held up the empty cup.

-

“You don’t get no coffee,” Henry announced.

-

“Ain’t run out?” Bill asked anxiously.

-

“Nope.”

-

“Ain’t thinkin’ it’ll hurt my digestion?”

-

“Nope.”

-

A flush of angry blood pervaded Bill’s face.

-

“Then it’s jes’ warm an’ anxious I am to -be hearin’ you explain yourself,” he said.

-

“Spanker’s gone,” Henry answered.

-

Without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune Bill turned -his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs.

-

“How’d it happen?” he asked apathetically.

-

Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. -Unless One Ear gnawed ’m loose. He couldn’t a-done -it himself, that’s sure.”

-

“The darned cuss.” Bill spoke gravely and slowly, -with no hint of the anger that was raging within. “Jes’ -because he couldn’t chew himself loose, he chews Spanker loose.”

-

“Well, Spanker’s troubles is over anyway; I guess he’s -digested by this time an’ cavortin’ over the landscape in -the bellies of twenty different wolves,” was Henry’s epitaph -on this, the latest lost dog. “Have some coffee, Bill.”

-

But Bill shook his head.

-

“Go on,” Henry pleaded, elevating the pot.

-

Bill shoved his cup aside. “I’ll be ding-dong-danged -if I do. I said I wouldn’t if ary dog turned up missin’, -an’ I won’t.”

-

“It’s darn good coffee,” Henry said enticingly.

-

But Bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with -mumbled curses at One Ear for the trick he had played.

-

“I’ll tie ’em up out of reach of each other to-night,” -Bill said, as they took the trail.

-

They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, -who was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his snowshoe -had collided. It was dark, and he could not see it, but he recognised -it by the touch. He flung it back, so that it struck the sled -and bounced along until it fetched up on Bill’s snowshoes.

-

“Mebbe you’ll need that in your business,” Henry -said.

-

Bill uttered an exclamation. It was all that was left of Spanker—the -stick with which he had been tied.

-

“They ate ’m hide an’ all,” Bill announced. -“The stick’s as clean as a whistle. They’ve -ate the leather offen both ends. They’re damn hungry, Henry, -an’ they’ll have you an’ me guessin’ before -this trip’s over.”

-

Henry laughed defiantly. “I ain’t been trailed -this way by wolves before, but I’ve gone through a whole lot worse -an’ kept my health. Takes more’n a handful of them -pesky critters to do for yours truly, Bill, my son.”

-

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bill muttered -ominously.

-

“Well, you’ll know all right when we pull into McGurry.”

-

“I ain’t feelin’ special enthusiastic,” Bill -persisted.

-

“You’re off colour, that’s what’s the matter -with you,” Henry dogmatised. “What you need is quinine, -an’ I’m goin’ to dose you up stiff as soon as we make -McGurry.”

-

Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into -silence. The day was like all the days. Light came at nine -o’clock. At twelve o’clock the southern horizon was -warmed by the unseen sun; and then began the cold grey of afternoon -that would merge, three hours later, into night.

-

It was just after the sun’s futile effort to appear, that Bill -slipped the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said:

-

“You keep right on, Henry, I’m goin’ to see what -I can see.”

-

“You’d better stick by the sled,” his partner protested. -“You’ve only got three cartridges, an’ there’s -no tellin’ what might happen.”

-

“Who’s croaking now?” Bill demanded triumphantly.

-

Henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast anxious -glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had disappeared. -An hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs around which the sled -had to go, Bill arrived.

-

“They’re scattered an’ rangin’ along wide,” -he said: “keeping up with us an’ lookin’ for game -at the same time. You see, they’re sure of us, only they -know they’ve got to wait to get us. In the meantime they’re -willin’ to pick up anything eatable that comes handy.”

-

“You mean they think they’re sure of us,” -Henry objected pointedly.

-

But Bill ignored him. “I seen some of them. They’re -pretty thin. They ain’t had a bite in weeks I reckon, outside -of Fatty an’ Frog an’ Spanker; an’ there’s so -many of ’em that that didn’t go far. They’re -remarkable thin. Their ribs is like wash-boards, an’ their -stomachs is right up against their backbones. They’re pretty -desperate, I can tell you. They’ll be goin’ mad, yet, -an’ then watch out.”

-

A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, -emitted a low, warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then quietly -stopped the dogs. To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly -into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, -slinking form. Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with -a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. When they halted, it halted, -throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that -twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them.

-

“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill answered.

-

The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join -his partner in the sled. Together they watched the strange animal -that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the -destruction of half their dog-team.

-

After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. -This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards away. -It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with sight -and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. It looked at -them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its -wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. It was a wistfulness -bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost -itself.

-

It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of -an animal that was among the largest of its kind.

-

“Stands pretty close to two feet an’ a half at the shoulders,” -Henry commented. “An’ I’ll bet it ain’t -far from five feet long.”

-

“Kind of strange colour for a wolf,” was Bill’s -criticism. “I never seen a red wolf before. Looks -almost cinnamon to me.”

-

The animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. Its coat was -the true wolf-coat. The dominant colour was grey, and yet there -was to it a faint reddish hue—a hue that was baffling, that appeared -and disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, -distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness -of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience.

-

“Looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog,” -Bill said. “I wouldn’t be s’prised to see it -wag its tail.”

-

“Hello, you husky!” he called. “Come here, -you whatever-your-name-is.”

-

“Ain’t a bit scairt of you,” Henry laughed.

-

Bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly; but the -animal betrayed no fear. The only change in it that they could -notice was an accession of alertness. It still regarded them with -the merciless wistfulness of hunger. They were meat, and it was -hungry; and it would like to go in and eat them if it dared.

-

“Look here, Henry,” Bill said, unconsciously lowering -his voice to a whisper because of what he imitated. “We’ve -got three cartridges. But it’s a dead shot. Couldn’t -miss it. It’s got away with three of our dogs, an’ -we oughter put a stop to it. What d’ye say?”

-

Henry nodded his consent. Bill cautiously slipped the gun from -under the sled-lashing. The gun was on the way to his shoulder, -but it never got there. For in that instant the she-wolf leaped -sidewise from the trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared.

-

The two men looked at each other. Henry whistled long and comprehendingly.

-

“I might have knowed it,” Bill chided himself aloud as -he replaced the gun. “Of course a wolf that knows enough -to come in with the dogs at feedin’ time, ’d know all about -shooting-irons. I tell you right now, Henry, that critter’s -the cause of all our trouble. We’d have six dogs at the -present time, ’stead of three, if it wasn’t for her. -An’ I tell you right now, Henry, I’m goin’ to get -her. She’s too smart to be shot in the open. But I’m -goin’ to lay for her. I’ll bushwhack her as sure as -my name is Bill.”

-

“You needn’t stray off too far in doin’ it,” -his partner admonished. “If that pack ever starts to jump -you, them three cartridges’d be wuth no more’n three whoops -in hell. Them animals is damn hungry, an’ once they start -in, they’ll sure get you, Bill.”

-

They camped early that night. Three dogs could not drag the -sled so fast nor for so long hours as could six, and they were showing -unmistakable signs of playing out. And the men went early to bed, -Bill first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach -of one another.

-

But the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more -than once from their sleep. So near did the wolves approach, that -the dogs became frantic with terror, and it was necessary to replenish -the fire from time to time in order to keep the adventurous marauders -at safer distance.

-

“I’ve hearn sailors talk of sharks followin’ a -ship,” Bill remarked, as he crawled back into the blankets after -one such replenishing of the fire. “Well, them wolves is -land sharks. They know their business better’n we do, an’ -they ain’t a-holdin’ our trail this way for their health. -They’re goin’ to get us. They’re sure goin’ -to get us, Henry.”

-

“They’ve half got you a’ready, a-talkin’ -like that,” Henry retorted sharply. “A man’s -half licked when he says he is. An’ you’re half eaten -from the way you’re goin’ on about it.”

-

“They’ve got away with better men than you an’ -me,” Bill answered.

-

“Oh, shet up your croakin’. You make me all-fired -tired.”

-

Henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that Bill -made no similar display of temper. This was not Bill’s way, -for he was easily angered by sharp words. Henry thought long over -it before he went to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down and he -dozed off, the thought in his mind was: “There’s no mistakin’ -it, Bill’s almighty blue. I’ll have to cheer him up -to-morrow.”

-
-
-

-Chapter IIIThe Hunger Cry

-

The day began auspiciously. They had lost no dogs during the -night, and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the darkness, -and the cold with spirits that were fairly light. Bill seemed -to have forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and even waxed -facetious with the dogs when, at midday, they overturned the sled on -a bad piece of trail.

-

It was an awkward mix-up. The sled was upside down and jammed -between a tree-trunk and a huge rock, and they were forced to unharness -the dogs in order to straighten out the tangle. The two men were -bent over the sled and trying to right it, when Henry observed One Ear -sidling away.

-

“Here, you, One Ear!” he cried, straightening up and -turning around on the dog.

-

But One Ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing -behind him. And there, out in the snow of their back track, was -the she-wolf waiting for him. As he neared her, he became suddenly -cautious. He slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then -stopped. He regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. -She seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather -than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few steps, playfully, -and then halted. One Ear drew near to her, still alert and cautious, -his tail and ears in the air, his head held high.

-

He tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and -coyly. Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding -retreat on her part. Step by step she was luring him away from -the security of his human companionship. Once, as though a warning -had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head -and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at the -two men who were calling to him.

-

But whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the -she-wolf, who advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him for a fleeting -instant, and then resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances.

-

In the meantime, Bill had bethought himself of the rifle. But -it was jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time Henry had -helped him to right the load, One Ear and the she-wolf were too close -together and the distance too great to risk a shot.

-

Too late One Ear learned his mistake. Before they saw the cause, -the two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. Then, -approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat -they saw a dozen wolves, lean and grey, bounding across the snow. -On the instant, the she-wolf’s coyness and playfulness disappeared. -With a snarl she sprang upon One Ear. He thrust her off with his -shoulder, and, his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the -sled, he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it. -More wolves were appearing every moment and joining in the chase. -The she-wolf was one leap behind One Ear and holding her own.

-

“Where are you goin’?” Henry suddenly demanded, -laying his hand on his partner’s arm.

-

Bill shook it off. “I won’t stand it,” he -said. “They ain’t a-goin’ to get any more of -our dogs if I can help it.”

-

Gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of -the trail. His intention was apparent enough. Taking the -sled as the centre of the circle that One Ear was making, Bill planned -to tap that circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. With -his rifle, in the broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe -the wolves and save the dog.

-

“Say, Bill!” Henry called after him. “Be -careful! Don’t take no chances!”

-

Henry sat down on the sled and watched. There was nothing else -for him to do. Bill had already gone from sight; but now and again, -appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered -clumps of spruce, could be seen One Ear. Henry judged his case -to be hopeless. The dog was thoroughly alive to its danger, but -it was running on the outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on -the inner and shorter circle. It was vain to think of One Ear -so outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle -in advance of them and to regain the sled.

-

The different lines were rapidly approaching a point. Somewhere -out there in the snow, screened from his sight by trees and thickets, -Henry knew that the wolf-pack, One Ear, and Bill were coming together. -All too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it happened. -He heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and he knew that -Bill’s ammunition was gone. Then he heard a great outcry -of snarls and yelps. He recognised One Ear’s yell of pain -and terror, and he heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. -And that was all. The snarls ceased. The yelping died away. -Silence settled down again over the lonely land.

-

He sat for a long while upon the sled. There was no need for -him to go and see what had happened. He knew it as though it had -taken place before his eyes. Once, he roused with a start and -hastily got the axe out from underneath the lashings. But for -some time longer he sat and brooded, the two remaining dogs crouching -and trembling at his feet.

-

At last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience -had gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. -He passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace, and pulled with the -dogs. He did not go far. At the first hint of darkness he -hastened to make a camp, and he saw to it that he had a generous supply -of firewood. He fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made -his bed close to the fire.

-

But he was not destined to enjoy that bed. Before his eyes -closed the wolves had drawn too near for safety. It no longer -required an effort of the vision to see them. They were all about -him and the fire, in a narrow circle, and he could see them plainly -in the firelight lying down, sitting up, crawling forward on their bellies, -or slinking back and forth. They even slept. Here and there -he could see one curled up in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep -that was now denied himself.

-

He kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone intervened -between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. His two -dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against him for -protection, crying and whimpering, and at times snarling desperately -when a wolf approached a little closer than usual. At such moments, -when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be agitated, the wolves -coming to their feet and pressing tentatively forward, a chorus of snarls -and eager yelps rising about him. Then the circle would lie down -again, and here and there a wolf would resume its broken nap.

-

But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. -Bit by bit, an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and -there a wolf bellying forward, the circle would narrow until the brutes -were almost within springing distance. Then he would seize brands -from the fire and hurl them into the pack. A hasty drawing back -always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened snarls when -a well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal.

-

Morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep. -He cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o’clock, when, -with the coming of daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set about the -task he had planned through the long hours of the night. Chopping -down young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold by lashing -them high up to the trunks of standing trees. Using the sled-lashing -for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs, he hoisted the coffin -to the top of the scaffold.

-

“They got Bill, an’ they may get me, but they’ll -sure never get you, young man,” he said, addressing the dead body -in its tree-sepulchre.

-

Then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind -the willing dogs; for they, too, knew that safety lay open in the gaining -of Fort McGurry. The wolves were now more open in their pursuit, -trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, their red -tongues lolling out, their lean sides showing the undulating ribs with -every movement. They were very lean, mere skin-bags stretched -over bony frames, with strings for muscles—so lean that Henry -found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did -not collapse forthright in the snow.

-

He did not dare travel until dark. At midday, not only did -the sun warm the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim, -pale and golden, above the sky-line. He received it as a sign. -The days were growing longer. The sun was returning. But -scarcely had the cheer of its light departed, than he went into camp. -There were still several hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight, -and he utilised them in chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood.

-

With night came horror. Not only were the starving wolves growing -bolder, but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite -himself, crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the -axe between his knees, and on either side a dog pressing close against -him. He awoke once and saw in front of him, not a dozen feet away, -a big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And even as he -looked, the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of -a lazy dog, yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive -eye, as if, in truth, he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to -be eaten.

-

This certitude was shown by the whole pack. Fully a score he -could count, staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow. -They reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting -permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat! -He wondered how and when the meal would begin.

-

As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his -own body which he had never felt before. He watched his moving -muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers. -By the light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and repeatedly -now one at a time, now all together, spreading them wide or making quick -gripping movements. He studied the nail-formation, and prodded -the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging the while the -nerve-sensations produced. It fascinated him, and he grew suddenly -fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly -and delicately. Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle -drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow the realisation would strike -him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more -than so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed -by their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to them as the moose and the -rabbit had often been sustenance to him.

-

He came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued -she-wolf before him. She was not more than half a dozen feet away -sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him. The two dogs -were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of -them. She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned -her look. There was nothing threatening about her. She looked -at him merely with a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the wistfulness -of an equally great hunger. He was the food, and the sight of -him excited in her the gustatory sensations. Her mouth opened, -the saliva drooled forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure -of anticipation.

-

A spasm of fear went through him. He reached hastily for a -brand to throw at her. But even as he reached, and before his -fingers had closed on the missile, she sprang back into safety; and -he knew that she was used to having things thrown at her. She -had snarled as she sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots, -all her wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity -that made him shudder. He glanced at the hand that held the brand, -noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it, how they -adjusted themselves to all the inequalities of the surface, curling -over and under and about the rough wood, and one little finger, too -close to the burning portion of the brand, sensitively and automatically -writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping-place; and -in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same sensitive -and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the -she-wolf. Never had he been so fond of this body of his as now -when his tenure of it was so precarious.

-

All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. -When he dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of the dogs -aroused him. Morning came, but for the first time the light of -day failed to scatter the wolves. The man waited in vain for them -to go. They remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying -an arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the morning -light.

-

He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail. But -the moment he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped -for him, but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back, -the jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh. -The rest of the pack was now up and surging upon him, and a throwing -of firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to a respectful -distance.

-

Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh -wood. Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce. He spent -half the day extending his campfire to the tree, at any moment a half -dozen burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. Once -at the tree, he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the -tree in the direction of the most firewood.

-

The night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need -for sleep was becoming overpowering. The snarling of his dogs -was losing its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time, -and his benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch -and intensity. He awoke with a start. The she-wolf was less -than a yard from him. Mechanically, at short range, without letting -go of it, he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. -She sprang away, yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the -smell of burning flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and -growling wrathfully a score of feet away.

-

But this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot -to his right hand. His eyes were closed but few minutes when the -burn of the flame on his flesh awakened him. For several hours -he adhered to this programme. Every time he was thus awakened -he drove back the wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and -rearranged the pine-knot on his hand. All worked well, but there -came a time when he fastened the pine-knot insecurely. As his -eyes closed it fell away from his hand.

-

He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. -It was warm and comfortable, and he was playing cribbage with the Factor. -Also, it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They -were howling at the very gates, and sometimes he and the Factor paused -from the game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of the wolves -to get in. And then, so strange was the dream, there was a crash. -The door was burst open. He could see the wolves flooding into -the big living-room of the fort. They were leaping straight for -him and the Factor. With the bursting open of the door, the noise -of their howling had increased tremendously. This howling now -bothered him. His dream was merging into something else—he -knew not what; but through it all, following him, persisted the howling.

-

And then he awoke to find the howling real. There was a great -snarling and yelping. The wolves were rushing him. They -were all about him and upon him. The teeth of one had closed upon -his arm. Instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, -he felt the sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of his -leg. Then began a fire fight. His stout mittens temporarily -protected his hands, and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions, -until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano.

-

But it could not last long. His face was blistering in the -heat, his eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming -unbearable to his feet. With a flaming brand in each hand, he -sprang to the edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back. -On every side, wherever the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, -and every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and -snarl, announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon.

-

Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust -his smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his -feet. His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had -served as a course in the protracted meal which had begun days before -with Fatty, the last course of which would likely be himself in the -days to follow.

-

“You ain’t got me yet!” he cried, savagely shaking -his fist at the hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole -circle was agitated, there was a general snarl, and the she-wolf slid -up close to him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness.

-

He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him. -He extended the fire into a large circle. Inside this circle he -crouched, his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the -melting snow. When he had thus disappeared within his shelter -of flame, the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see -what had become of him. Hitherto they had been denied access to -the fire, and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so -many dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in -the unaccustomed warmth. Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her -nose at a star, and began to howl. One by one the wolves joined -her, till the whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was -howling its hunger cry.

-

Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The -fuel had run out, and there was need to get more. The man attempted -to step out of his circle of flame, but the wolves surged to meet him. -Burning brands made them spring aside, but they no longer sprang back. -In vain he strove to drive them back. As he gave up and stumbled -inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all -four feet in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same -time snarling, and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow.

-

The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. His -body leaned forward from the hips. His shoulders, relaxed and -drooping, and his head on his knees advertised that he had given up -the struggle. Now and again he raised his head to note the dying -down of the fire. The circle of flame and coals was breaking into -segments with openings in between. These openings grew in size, -the segments diminished.

-

“I guess you can come an’ get me any time,” he -mumbled. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to sleep.”

-

Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front -of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him.

-

Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. -A mysterious change had taken place—so mysterious a change that -he was shocked wider awake. Something had happened. He could -not understand at first. Then he discovered it. The wolves -were gone. Remained only the trampled snow to show how closely -they had pressed him. Sleep was welling up and gripping him again, -his head was sinking down upon his knees, when he roused with a sudden -start.

-

There were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of harnesses, -and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. Four sleds pulled -in from the river bed to the camp among the trees. Half a dozen -men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire. -They were shaking and prodding him into consciousness. He looked -at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy speech.

-

“Red she-wolf. . . . Come in with the dogs at feedin’ -time. . . . First she ate the dog-food. . . . Then she ate the dogs. -. . . An’ after that she ate Bill. . . . ”

-

“Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men bellowed -in his ear, shaking him roughly.

-

He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him. -. . . He’s roostin’ in a tree at the last camp.”

-

“Dead?” the man shouted.

-

“An’ in a box,” Henry answered. He jerked -his shoulder petulantly away from the grip of his questioner. -“Say, you lemme alone. . . . I’m jes’ plump tuckered -out. . . . Goo’ night, everybody.”

-

His eyes fluttered and went shut. His chin fell forward on -his chest. And even as they eased him down upon the blankets his -snores were rising on the frosty air.

-

But there was another sound. Far and faint it was, in the remote -distance, the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of other -meat than the man it had just missed.

-
-
-
-

Part II

-
-

-Chapter IThe Battle of the Fangs

-

It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s -voices and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who -was first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying -flame. The pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted -down, and it lingered for several minutes, making sure of the sounds, -and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf.

-

Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one -of its several leaders. It was he who directed the pack’s -course on the heels of the she-wolf. It was he who snarled warningly -at the younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs -when they ambitiously tried to pass him. And it was he who increased -the pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the -snow.

-

She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed -position, and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, -nor show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance -of him. On the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward her—too -kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and when he -ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. Nor -was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such -times he betrayed no anger. He merely sprang to the side and ran -stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct resembling -an abashed country swain.

-

This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had -other troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled -and marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her -right side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left -eye, might account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding -her, to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, -or shoulder, or neck. As with the running mate on the left, she -repelled these attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their -attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, -with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the -same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way -of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed -their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They -might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more -pressing hunger-need of the pack.

-

After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from -the sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young -three-year-old that ran on his blind right side. This young wolf -had attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished condition -of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and spirit. -Nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of his one-eyed -elder. When he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf (which -was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the shoulder -again. Sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and slowly behind -and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. This was -doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her displeasure, -the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. Sometimes she -whirled with him. And sometimes the young leader on the left whirled, -too.

-

At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young -wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, with -fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. This confusion -in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in the rear. -The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed their displeasure -by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and flanks. He was -laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and short tempers went -together; but with the boundless faith of youth he persisted in repeating -the manoeuvre every little while, though it never succeeded in gaining -anything for him but discomfiture.

-

Had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on -apace, and the pack-formation would have been broken up. But the -situation of the pack was desperate. It was lean with long-standing -hunger. It ran below its ordinary speed. At the rear limped -the weak members, the very young and the very old. At the front -were the strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied -wolves. Nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped, -the movements of the animals were effortless and tireless. Their -stringy muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy. Behind -every steel-like contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like contraction, -and another, and another, apparently without end.

-

They ran many miles that day. They ran through the night. -And the next day found them still running. They were running over -the surface of a world frozen and dead. No life stirred. -They alone moved through the vast inertness. They alone were alive, -and they sought for other things that were alive in order that they -might devour them and continue to live.

-

They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a lower-lying -country before their quest was rewarded. Then they came upon moose. -It was a big bull they first found. Here was meat and life, and -it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles of flame. -Splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew, and they flung their customary -patience and caution to the wind. It was a brief fight and fierce. -The big bull was beset on every side. He ripped them open or split -their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs. He -crushed them and broke them on his large horns. He stamped them -into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. But he was -foredoomed, and he went down with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his -throat, and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon him, devouring him -alive, before ever his last struggles ceased or his last damage had -been wrought.

-

There was food in plenty. The bull weighed over eight hundred -pounds—fully twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the forty-odd -wolves of the pack. But if they could fast prodigiously, they -could feed prodigiously, and soon a few scattered bones were all that -remained of the splendid live brute that had faced the pack a few hours -before.

-

There was now much resting and sleeping. With full stomachs, -bickering and quarrelling began among the younger males, and this continued -through the few days that followed before the breaking-up of the pack. -The famine was over. The wolves were now in the country of game, -and though they still hunted in pack, they hunted more cautiously, cutting -out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from the small moose-herds they -ran across.

-

There came a day, in this land of plenty, when the wolf-pack split -in half and went in different directions. The she-wolf, the young -leader on her left, and the one-eyed elder on her right, led their half -of the pack down to the Mackenzie River and across into the lake country -to the east. Each day this remnant of the pack dwindled. -Two by two, male and female, the wolves were deserting. Occasionally -a solitary male was driven out by the sharp teeth of his rivals. -In the end there remained only four: the she-wolf, the young leader, -the one-eyed one, and the ambitious three-year-old.

-

The she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. Her three -suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. Yet they never replied -in kind, never defended themselves against her. They turned their -shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and mincing -steps strove to placate her wrath. But if they were all mildness -toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. The three-year-old -grew too ambitious in his fierceness. He caught the one-eyed elder -on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons. Though the -grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, against the youth and -vigour of the other he brought into play the wisdom of long years of -experience. His lost eye and his scarred muzzle bore evidence -to the nature of his experience. He had survived too many battles -to be in doubt for a moment about what to do.

-

The battle began fairly, but it did not end fairly. There was -no telling what the outcome would have been, for the third wolf joined -the elder, and together, old leader and young leader, they attacked -the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to destroy him. He -was beset on either side by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile comrades. -Forgotten were the days they had hunted together, the game they had -pulled down, the famine they had suffered. That business was a -thing of the past. The business of love was at hand—ever -a sterner and crueller business than that of food-getting.

-

And in the meanwhile, the she-wolf, the cause of it all, sat down -contentedly on her haunches and watched. She was even pleased. -This was her day—and it came not often—when manes bristled, -and fang smote fang or ripped and tore the yielding flesh, all for the -possession of her.

-

And in the business of love the three-year-old, who had made this -his first adventure upon it, yielded up his life. On either side -of his body stood his two rivals. They were gazing at the she-wolf, -who sat smiling in the snow. But the elder leader was wise, very -wise, in love even as in battle. The younger leader turned his -head to lick a wound on his shoulder. The curve of his neck was -turned toward his rival. With his one eye the elder saw the opportunity. -He darted in low and closed with his fangs. It was a long, ripping -slash, and deep as well. His teeth, in passing, burst the wall -of the great vein of the throat. Then he leaped clear.

-

The young leader snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into -a tickling cough. Bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he -sprang at the elder and fought while life faded from him, his legs going -weak beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows and -springs falling shorter and shorter.

-

And all the while the she-wolf sat on her haunches and smiled. -She was made glad in vague ways by the battle, for this was the love-making -of the Wild, the sex-tragedy of the natural world that was tragedy only -to those that died. To those that survived it was not tragedy, -but realisation and achievement.

-

When the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more, One Eye -stalked over to the she-wolf. His carriage was one of mingled -triumph and caution. He was plainly expectant of a rebuff, and -he was just as plainly surprised when her teeth did not flash out at -him in anger. For the first time she met him with a kindly manner. -She sniffed noses with him, and even condescended to leap about and -frisk and play with him in quite puppyish fashion. And he, for -all his grey years and sage experience, behaved quite as puppyishly -and even a little more foolishly.

-

Forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the love-tale red-written -on the snow. Forgotten, save once, when old One Eye stopped for -a moment to lick his stiffening wounds. Then it was that his lips -half writhed into a snarl, and the hair of his neck and shoulders involuntarily -bristled, while he half crouched for a spring, his claws spasmodically -clutching into the snow-surface for firmer footing. But it was -all forgotten the next moment, as he sprang after the she-wolf, who -was coyly leading him a chase through the woods.

-

After that they ran side by side, like good friends who have come -to an understanding. The days passed by, and they kept together, -hunting their meat and killing and eating it in common. After -a time the she-wolf began to grow restless. She seemed to be searching -for something that she could not find. The hollows under fallen -trees seemed to attract her, and she spent much time nosing about among -the larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of overhanging -banks. Old One Eye was not interested at all, but he followed -her good-naturedly in her quest, and when her investigations in particular -places were unusually protracted, he would lie down and wait until she -was ready to go on.

-

They did not remain in one place, but travelled across country until -they regained the Mackenzie River, down which they slowly went, leaving -it often to hunt game along the small streams that entered it, but always -returning to it again. Sometimes they chanced upon other wolves, -usually in pairs; but there was no friendliness of intercourse displayed -on either side, no gladness at meeting, no desire to return to the pack-formation. -Several times they encountered solitary wolves. These were always -males, and they were pressingly insistent on joining with One Eye and -his mate. This he resented, and when she stood shoulder to shoulder -with him, bristling and showing her teeth, the aspiring solitary ones -would back off, turn-tail, and continue on their lonely way.

-

One moonlight night, running through the quiet forest, One Eye suddenly -halted. His muzzle went up, his tail stiffened, and his nostrils -dilated as he scented the air. One foot also he held up, after -the manner of a dog. He was not satisfied, and he continued to -smell the air, striving to understand the message borne upon it to him. -One careless sniff had satisfied his mate, and she trotted on to reassure -him. Though he followed her, he was still dubious, and he could -not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to study the -warning.

-

She crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the -midst of the trees. For some time she stood alone. Then -One Eye, creeping and crawling, every sense on the alert, every hair -radiating infinite suspicion, joined her. They stood side by side, -watching and listening and smelling.

-

To their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling, the -guttural cries of men, the sharper voices of scolding women, and once -the shrill and plaintive cry of a child. With the exception of -the huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the flames -of the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, and the -smoke rising slowly on the quiet air. But to their nostrils came -the myriad smells of an Indian camp, carrying a story that was largely -incomprehensible to One Eye, but every detail of which the she-wolf -knew.

-

She was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing -delight. But old One Eye was doubtful. He betrayed his apprehension, -and started tentatively to go. She turned and touched his neck -with her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp again. -A new wistfulness was in her face, but it was not the wistfulness of -hunger. She was thrilling to a desire that urged her to go forward, -to be in closer to that fire, to be squabbling with the dogs, and to -be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men.

-

One Eye moved impatiently beside her; her unrest came back upon her, -and she knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she -searched. She turned and trotted back into the forest, to the -great relief of One Eye, who trotted a little to the fore until they -were well within the shelter of the trees.

-

As they slid along, noiseless as shadows, in the moonlight, they -came upon a run-way. Both noses went down to the footprints in -the snow. These footprints were very fresh. One Eye ran -ahead cautiously, his mate at his heels. The broad pads of their -feet were spread wide and in contact with the snow were like velvet. -One Eye caught sight of a dim movement of white in the midst of the -white. His sliding gait had been deceptively swift, but it was -as nothing to the speed at which he now ran. Before him was bounding -the faint patch of white he had discovered.

-

They were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by -a growth of young spruce. Through the trees the mouth of the alley -could be seen, opening out on a moonlit glade. Old One Eye was -rapidly overhauling the fleeing shape of white. Bound by bound -he gained. Now he was upon it. One leap more and his teeth -would be sinking into it. But that leap was never made. -High in the air, and straight up, soared the shape of white, now a struggling -snowshoe rabbit that leaped and bounded, executing a fantastic dance -there above him in the air and never once returning to earth.

-

One Eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright, then shrank down -to the snow and crouched, snarling threats at this thing of fear he -did not understand. But the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. -She poised for a moment, then sprang for the dancing rabbit. She, -too, soared high, but not so high as the quarry, and her teeth clipped -emptily together with a metallic snap. She made another leap, -and another.

-

Her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her. -He now evinced displeasure at her repeated failures, and himself made -a mighty spring upward. His teeth closed upon the rabbit, and -he bore it back to earth with him. But at the same time there -was a suspicious crackling movement beside him, and his astonished eye -saw a young spruce sapling bending down above him to strike him. -His jaws let go their grip, and he leaped backward to escape this strange -danger, his lips drawn back from his fangs, his throat snarling, every -hair bristling with rage and fright. And in that moment the sapling -reared its slender length upright and the rabbit soared dancing in the -air again.

-

The she-wolf was angry. She sank her fangs into her mate’s -shoulder in reproof; and he, frightened, unaware of what constituted -this new onslaught, struck back ferociously and in still greater fright, -ripping down the side of the she-wolf’s muzzle. For him -to resent such reproof was equally unexpected to her, and she sprang -upon him in snarling indignation. Then he discovered his mistake -and tried to placate her. But she proceeded to punish him roundly, -until he gave over all attempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, -his head away from her, his shoulders receiving the punishment of her -teeth.

-

In the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air. The -she-wolf sat down in the snow, and old One Eye, now more in fear of -his mate than of the mysterious sapling, again sprang for the rabbit. -As he sank back with it between his teeth, he kept his eye on the sapling. -As before, it followed him back to earth. He crouched down under -the impending blow, his hair bristling, but his teeth still keeping -tight hold of the rabbit. But the blow did not fall. The -sapling remained bent above him. When he moved it moved, and he -growled at it through his clenched jaws; when he remained still, it -remained still, and he concluded it was safer to continue remaining -still. Yet the warm blood of the rabbit tasted good in his mouth.

-

It was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found -himself. She took the rabbit from him, and while the sapling swayed -and teetered threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the rabbit’s -head. At once the sapling shot up, and after that gave no more -trouble, remaining in the decorous and perpendicular position in which -nature had intended it to grow. Then, between them, the she-wolf -and One Eye devoured the game which the mysterious sapling had caught -for them.

-

There were other run-ways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in -the air, and the wolf-pair prospected them all, the she-wolf leading -the way, old One Eye following and observant, learning the method of -robbing snares—a knowledge destined to stand him in good stead -in the days to come.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIThe Lair

-

For two days the she-wolf and One Eye hung about the Indian camp. -He was worried and apprehensive, yet the camp lured his mate and she -was loath to depart. But when, one morning, the air was rent with -the report of a rifle close at hand, and a bullet smashed against a -tree trunk several inches from One Eye’s head, they hesitated -no more, but went off on a long, swinging lope that put quick miles -between them and the danger.

-

They did not go far—a couple of days’ journey. -The she-wolf’s need to find the thing for which she searched had -now become imperative. She was getting very heavy, and could run -but slowly. Once, in the pursuit of a rabbit, which she ordinarily -would have caught with ease, she gave over and lay down and rested. -One Eye came to her; but when he touched her neck gently with his muzzle -she snapped at him with such quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward -and cut a ridiculous figure in his effort to escape her teeth. -Her temper was now shorter than ever; but he had become more patient -than ever and more solicitous.

-

And then she found the thing for which she sought. It was a -few miles up a small stream that in the summer time flowed into the -Mackenzie, but that then was frozen over and frozen down to its rocky -bottom—a dead stream of solid white from source to mouth. -The she-wolf was trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when -she came upon the overhanging, high clay-bank. She turned aside -and trotted over to it. The wear and tear of spring storms and -melting snows had underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small -cave out of a narrow fissure.

-

She paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over carefully. -Then, on one side and the other, she ran along the base of the wall -to where its abrupt bulk merged from the softer-lined landscape. -Returning to the cave, she entered its narrow mouth. For a short -three feet she was compelled to crouch, then the walls widened and rose -higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet in diameter. -The roof barely cleared her head. It was dry and cosey. -She inspected it with painstaking care, while One Eye, who had returned, -stood in the entrance and patiently watched her. She dropped her -head, with her nose to the ground and directed toward a point near to -her closely bunched feet, and around this point she circled several -times; then, with a tired sigh that was almost a grunt, she curled her -body in, relaxed her legs, and dropped down, her head toward the entrance. -One Eye, with pointed, interested ears, laughed at her, and beyond, -outlined against the white light, she could see the brush of his tail -waving good-naturedly. Her own ears, with a snuggling movement, -laid their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment, -while her mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out, and in this -way she expressed that she was pleased and satisfied.

-

One Eye was hungry. Though he lay down in the entrance and -slept, his sleep was fitful. He kept awaking and cocking his ears -at the bright world without, where the April sun was blazing across -the snow. When he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers -of hidden trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen intently. -The sun had come back, and all the awakening Northland world was calling -to him. Life was stirring. The feel of spring was in the -air, the feel of growing life under the snow, of sap ascending in the -trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the frost.

-

He cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to -get up. He looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered -across his field of vision. He started to get up, then looked -back to his mate again, and settled down and dozed. A shrill and -minute singing stole upon his hearing. Once, and twice, he sleepily -brushed his nose with his paw. Then he woke up. There, buzzing -in the air at the tip of his nose, was a lone mosquito. It was -a full-grown mosquito, one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter -and that had now been thawed out by the sun. He could resist the -call of the world no longer. Besides, he was hungry.

-

He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up. -But she only snarled at him, and he walked out alone into the bright -sunshine to find the snow-surface soft under foot and the travelling -difficult. He went up the frozen bed of the stream, where the -snow, shaded by the trees, was yet hard and crystalline. He was -gone eight hours, and he came back through the darkness hungrier than -when he had started. He had found game, but he had not caught -it. He had broken through the melting snow crust, and wallowed, -while the snowshoe rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever.

-

He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion. -Faint, strange sounds came from within. They were sounds not made -by his mate, and yet they were remotely familiar. He bellied cautiously -inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf. This -he received without perturbation, though he obeyed it by keeping his -distance; but he remained interested in the other sounds—faint, -muffled sobbings and slubberings.

-

His mate warned him irritably away, and he curled up and slept in -the entrance. When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair, -he again sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds. -There was a new note in his mate’s warning snarl. It was -a jealous note, and he was very careful in keeping a respectful distance. -Nevertheless, he made out, sheltering between her legs against the length -of her body, five strange little bundles of life, very feeble, very -helpless, making tiny whimpering noises, with eyes that did not open -to the light. He was surprised. It was not the first time -in his long and successful life that this thing had happened. -It had happened many times, yet each time it was as fresh a surprise -as ever to him.

-

His mate looked at him anxiously. Every little while she emitted -a low growl, and at times, when it seemed to her he approached too near, -the growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl. Of her own experience -she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which -was the experience of all the mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory -of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny. -It manifested itself as a fear strong within her, that made her prevent -One Eye from more closely inspecting the cubs he had fathered.

-

But there was no danger. Old One Eye was feeling the urge of -an impulse, that was, in turn, an instinct that had come down to him -from all the fathers of wolves. He did not question it, nor puzzle -over it. It was there, in the fibre of his being; and it was the -most natural thing in the world that he should obey it by turning his -back on his new-born family and by trotting out and away on the meat-trail -whereby he lived.

-

Five or six miles from the lair, the stream divided, its forks going -off among the mountains at a right angle. Here, leading up the -left fork, he came upon a fresh track. He smelled it and found -it so recent that he crouched swiftly, and looked in the direction in -which it disappeared. Then he turned deliberately and took the -right fork. The footprint was much larger than the one his own -feet made, and he knew that in the wake of such a trail there was little -meat for him.

-

Half a mile up the right fork, his quick ears caught the sound of -gnawing teeth. He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine, -standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark. -One Eye approached carefully but hopelessly. He knew the breed, -though he had never met it so far north before; and never in his long -life had porcupine served him for a meal. But he had long since -learned that there was such a thing as Chance, or Opportunity, and he -continued to draw near. There was never any telling what might -happen, for with live things events were somehow always happening differently.

-

The porcupine rolled itself into a ball, radiating long, sharp needles -in all directions that defied attack. In his youth One Eye had -once sniffed too near a similar, apparently inert ball of quills, and -had the tail flick out suddenly in his face. One quill he had -carried away in his muzzle, where it had remained for weeks, a rankling -flame, until it finally worked out. So he lay down, in a comfortable -crouching position, his nose fully a foot away, and out of the line -of the tail. Thus he waited, keeping perfectly quiet. There -was no telling. Something might happen. The porcupine might -unroll. There might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust -of paw into the tender, unguarded belly.

-

But at the end of half an hour he arose, growled wrathfully at the -motionless ball, and trotted on. He had waited too often and futilely -in the past for porcupines to unroll, to waste any more time. -He continued up the right fork. The day wore along, and nothing -rewarded his hunt.

-

The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him. -He must find meat. In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan. -He came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the slow-witted -bird. It was sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end of his -nose. Each saw the other. The bird made a startled rise, -but he struck it with his paw, and smashed it down to earth, then pounced -upon it, and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across the snow trying -to rise in the air again. As his teeth crunched through the tender -flesh and fragile bones, he began naturally to eat. Then he remembered, -and, turning on the back-track, started for home, carrying the ptarmigan -in his mouth.

-

A mile above the forks, running velvet-footed as was his custom, -a gliding shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the trail, -he came upon later imprints of the large tracks he had discovered in -the early morning. As the track led his way, he followed, prepared -to meet the maker of it at every turn of the stream.

-

He slid his head around a corner of rock, where began an unusually -large bend in the stream, and his quick eyes made out something that -sent him crouching swiftly down. It was the maker of the track, -a large female lynx. She was crouching as he had crouched once -that day, in front of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. If -he had been a gliding shadow before, he now became the ghost of such -a shadow, as he crept and circled around, and came up well to leeward -of the silent, motionless pair.

-

He lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and -with eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he watched -the play of life before him—the waiting lynx and the waiting porcupine, -each intent on life; and, such was the curiousness of the game, the -way of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and the way of life -for the other lay in being not eaten. While old One Eye, the wolf -crouching in the covert, played his part, too, in the game, waiting -for some strange freak of Chance, that might help him on the meat-trail -which was his way of life.

-

Half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. The ball -of quills might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might have -been frozen to marble; and old One Eye might have been dead. Yet -all three animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was almost -painful, and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more alive than -they were then in their seeming petrifaction.

-

One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness. -Something was happening. The porcupine had at last decided that -its enemy had gone away. Slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling -its ball of impregnable armour. It was agitated by no tremor of -anticipation. Slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened -out and lengthened. One Eye watching, felt a sudden moistness -in his mouth and a drooling of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living -meat that was spreading itself like a repast before him.

-

Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered -its enemy. In that instant the lynx struck. The blow was -like a flash of light. The paw, with rigid claws curving like -talons, shot under the tender belly and came back with a swift ripping -movement. Had the porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it -not discovered its enemy a fraction of a second before the blow was -struck, the paw would have escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of the -tail sank sharp quills into it as it was withdrawn.

-

Everything had happened at once—the blow, the counter-blow, -the squeal of agony from the porcupine, the big cat’s squall of -sudden hurt and astonishment. One Eye half arose in his excitement, -his ears up, his tail straight out and quivering behind him. The -lynx’s bad temper got the best of her. She sprang savagely -at the thing that had hurt her. But the porcupine, squealing and -grunting, with disrupted anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its ball-protection, -flicked out its tail again, and again the big cat squalled with hurt -and astonishment. Then she fell to backing away and sneezing, -her nose bristling with quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. She -brushed her nose with her paws, trying to dislodge the fiery darts, -thrust it into the snow, and rubbed it against twigs and branches, and -all the time leaping about, ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy -of pain and fright.

-

She sneezed continually, and her stub of a tail was doing its best -toward lashing about by giving quick, violent jerks. She quit -her antics, and quieted down for a long minute. One Eye watched. -And even he could not repress a start and an involuntary bristling of -hair along his back when she suddenly leaped, without warning, straight -up in the air, at the same time emitting a long and most terrible squall. -Then she sprang away, up the trail, squalling with every leap she made.

-

It was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died -out that One Eye ventured forth. He walked as delicately as though -all the snow were carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ready to -pierce the soft pads of his feet. The porcupine met his approach -with a furious squealing and a clashing of its long teeth. It -had managed to roll up in a ball again, but it was not quite the old -compact ball; its muscles were too much torn for that. It had -been ripped almost in half, and was still bleeding profusely.

-

One Eye scooped out mouthfuls of the blood-soaked snow, and chewed -and tasted and swallowed. This served as a relish, and his hunger -increased mightily; but he was too old in the world to forget his caution. -He waited. He lay down and waited, while the porcupine grated -its teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and occasional sharp little squeals. -In a little while, One Eye noticed that the quills were drooping and -that a great quivering had set up. The quivering came to an end -suddenly. There was a final defiant clash of the long teeth. -Then all the quills drooped quite down, and the body relaxed and moved -no more.

-

With a nervous, shrinking paw, One Eye stretched out the porcupine -to its full length and turned it over on its back. Nothing had -happened. It was surely dead. He studied it intently for -a moment, then took a careful grip with his teeth and started off down -the stream, partly carrying, partly dragging the porcupine, with head -turned to the side so as to avoid stepping on the prickly mass. -He recollected something, dropped the burden, and trotted back to where -he had left the ptarmigan. He did not hesitate a moment. -He knew clearly what was to be done, and this he did by promptly eating -the ptarmigan. Then he returned and took up his burden.

-

When he dragged the result of his day’s hunt into the cave, -the she-wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly licked -him on the neck. But the next instant she was warning him away -from the cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than usual and that was -more apologetic than menacing. Her instinctive fear of the father -of her progeny was toning down. He was behaving as a wolf-father -should, and manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young lives she -had brought into the world.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIIThe Grey Cub

-

He was different from his brothers and sisters. Their hair -already betrayed the reddish hue inherited from their mother, the she-wolf; -while he alone, in this particular, took after his father. He -was the one little grey cub of the litter. He had bred true to -the straight wolf-stock—in fact, he had bred true to old One Eye -himself, physically, with but a single exception, and that was he had -two eyes to his father’s one.

-

The grey cub’s eyes had not been open long, yet already he -could see with steady clearness. And while his eyes were still -closed, he had felt, tasted, and smelled. He knew his two brothers -and his two sisters very well. He had begun to romp with them -in a feeble, awkward way, and even to squabble, his little throat vibrating -with a queer rasping noise (the forerunner of the growl), as he worked -himself into a passion. And long before his eyes had opened he -had learned by touch, taste, and smell to know his mother—a fount -of warmth and liquid food and tenderness. She possessed a gentle, -caressing tongue that soothed him when it passed over his soft little -body, and that impelled him to snuggle close against her and to doze -off to sleep.

-

Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping; -but now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for longer periods -of time, and he was coming to learn his world quite well. His -world was gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no other world. -It was dim-lighted; but his eyes had never had to adjust themselves -to any other light. His world was very small. Its limits -were the walls of the lair; but as he had no knowledge of the wide world -outside, he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of his existence.

-

But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different -from the rest. This was the mouth of the cave and the source of -light. He had discovered that it was different from the other -walls long before he had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions. -It had been an irresistible attraction before ever his eyes opened and -looked upon it. The light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, -and the eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, sparklike -flashes, warm-coloured and strangely pleasing. The life of his -body, and of every fibre of his body, the life that was the very substance -of his body and that was apart from his own personal life, had yearned -toward this light and urged his body toward it in the same way that -the cunning chemistry of a plant urges it toward the sun.

-

Always, in the beginning, before his conscious life dawned, he had -crawled toward the mouth of the cave. And in this his brothers -and sisters were one with him. Never, in that period, did any -of them crawl toward the dark corners of the back-wall. The light -drew them as if they were plants; the chemistry of the life that composed -them demanded the light as a necessity of being; and their little puppet-bodies -crawled blindly and chemically, like the tendrils of a vine. Later -on, when each developed individuality and became personally conscious -of impulsions and desires, the attraction of the light increased. -They were always crawling and sprawling toward it, and being driven -back from it by their mother.

-

It was in this way that the grey cub learned other attributes of -his mother than the soft, soothing, tongue. In his insistent crawling -toward the light, he discovered in her a nose that with a sharp nudge -administered rebuke, and later, a paw, that crushed him down and rolled -him over and over with swift, calculating stroke. Thus he learned -hurt; and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt, first, by not incurring -the risk of it; and second, when he had incurred the risk, by dodging -and by retreating. These were conscious actions, and were the -results of his first generalisations upon the world. Before that -he had recoiled automatically from hurt, as he had crawled automatically -toward the light. After that he recoiled from hurt because he -knew that it was hurt.

-

He was a fierce little cub. So were his brothers and sisters. -It was to be expected. He was a carnivorous animal. He came -of a breed of meat-killers and meat-eaters. His father and mother -lived wholly upon meat. The milk he had sucked with his first -flickering life, was milk transformed directly from meat, and now, at -a month old, when his eyes had been open for but a week, he was beginning -himself to eat meat—meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged -for the five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her -breast.

-

But he was, further, the fiercest of the litter. He could make -a louder rasping growl than any of them. His tiny rages were much -more terrible than theirs. It was he that first learned the trick -of rolling a fellow-cub over with a cunning paw-stroke. And it -was he that first gripped another cub by the ear and pulled and tugged -and growled through jaws tight-clenched. And certainly it was -he that caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from -the mouth of the cave.

-

The fascination of the light for the grey cub increased from day -to day. He was perpetually departing on yard-long adventures toward -the cave’s entrance, and as perpetually being driven back. -Only he did not know it for an entrance. He did not know anything -about entrances—passages whereby one goes from one place to another -place. He did not know any other place, much less of a way to -get there. So to him the entrance of the cave was a wall—a -wall of light. As the sun was to the outside dweller, this wall -was to him the sun of his world. It attracted him as a candle -attracts a moth. He was always striving to attain it. The -life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged him continually -toward the wall of light. The life that was within him knew that -it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread. But -he himself did not know anything about it. He did not know there -was any outside at all.

-

There was one strange thing about this wall of light. His father -(he had already come to recognise his father as the one other dweller -in the world, a creature like his mother, who slept near the light and -was a bringer of meat)—his father had a way of walking right into -the white far wall and disappearing. The grey cub could not understand -this. Though never permitted by his mother to approach that wall, -he had approached the other walls, and encountered hard obstruction -on the end of his tender nose. This hurt. And after several -such adventures, he left the walls alone. Without thinking about -it, he accepted this disappearing into the wall as a peculiarity of -his father, as milk and half-digested meat were peculiarities of his -mother.

-

In fact, the grey cub was not given to thinking—at least, to -the kind of thinking customary of men. His brain worked in dim -ways. Yet his conclusions were as sharp and distinct as those -achieved by men. He had a method of accepting things, without -questioning the why and wherefore. In reality, this was the act -of classification. He was never disturbed over why a thing happened. -How it happened was sufficient for him. Thus, when he had bumped -his nose on the back-wall a few times, he accepted that he would not -disappear into walls. In the same way he accepted that his father -could disappear into walls. But he was not in the least disturbed -by desire to find out the reason for the difference between his father -and himself. Logic and physics were no part of his mental make-up.

-

Like most creatures of the Wild, he early experienced famine. -There came a time when not only did the meat-supply cease, but the milk -no longer came from his mother’s breast. At first, the cubs -whimpered and cried, but for the most part they slept. It was -not long before they were reduced to a coma of hunger. There were -no more spats and squabbles, no more tiny rages nor attempts at growling; -while the adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether. -The cubs slept, while the life that was in them flickered and died down.

-

One Eye was desperate. He ranged far and wide, and slept but -little in the lair that had now become cheerless and miserable. -The she-wolf, too, left her litter and went out in search of meat. -In the first days after the birth of the cubs, One Eye had journeyed -several times back to the Indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; -but, with the melting of the snow and the opening of the streams, the -Indian camp had moved away, and that source of supply was closed to -him.

-

When the grey cub came back to life and again took interest in the -far white wall, he found that the population of his world had been reduced. -Only one sister remained to him. The rest were gone. As -he grew stronger, he found himself compelled to play alone, for the -sister no longer lifted her head nor moved about. His little body -rounded out with the meat he now ate; but the food had come too late -for her. She slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung round with -skin in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went out.

-

Then there came a time when the grey cub no longer saw his father -appearing and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the -entrance. This had happened at the end of a second and less severe -famine. The she-wolf knew why One Eye never came back, but there -was no way by which she could tell what she had seen to the grey cub. -Hunting herself for meat, up the left fork of the stream where lived -the lynx, she had followed a day-old trail of One Eye. And she -had found him, or what remained of him, at the end of the trail. -There were many signs of the battle that had been fought, and of the -lynx’s withdrawal to her lair after having won the victory. -Before she went away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but the signs -told her that the lynx was inside, and she had not dared to venture -in.

-

After that, the she-wolf in her hunting avoided the left fork. -For she knew that in the lynx’s lair was a litter of kittens, -and she knew the lynx for a fierce, bad-tempered creature and a terrible -fighter. It was all very well for half a dozen wolves to drive -a lynx, spitting and bristling, up a tree; but it was quite a different -matter for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx—especially when the -lynx was known to have a litter of hungry kittens at her back.

-

But the Wild is the Wild, and motherhood is motherhood, at all times -fiercely protective whether in the Wild or out of it; and the time was -to come when the she-wolf, for her grey cub’s sake, would venture -the left fork, and the lair in the rocks, and the lynx’s wrath.

-
-
-

-Chapter IVThe Wall of the World

-

By the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting expeditions, -the cub had learned well the law that forbade his approaching the entrance. -Not only had this law been forcibly and many times impressed on him -by his mother’s nose and paw, but in him the instinct of fear -was developing. Never, in his brief cave-life, had he encountered -anything of which to be afraid. Yet fear was in him. It -had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand -lives. It was a heritage he had received directly from One Eye -and the she-wolf; but to them, in turn, it had been passed down through -all the generations of wolves that had gone before. Fear!—that -legacy of the Wild which no animal may escape nor exchange for pottage.

-

So the grey cub knew fear, though he knew not the stuff of which -fear was made. Possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions -of life. For he had already learned that there were such restrictions. -Hunger he had known; and when he could not appease his hunger he had -felt restriction. The hard obstruction of the cave-wall, the sharp -nudge of his mother’s nose, the smashing stroke of her paw, the -hunger unappeased of several famines, had borne in upon him that all -was not freedom in the world, that to life there was limitations and -restraints. These limitations and restraints were laws. -To be obedient to them was to escape hurt and make for happiness.

-

He did not reason the question out in this man fashion. He -merely classified the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt. -And after such classification he avoided the things that hurt, the restrictions -and restraints, in order to enjoy the satisfactions and the remunerations -of life.

-

Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, -and in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, fear, -he kept away from the mouth of the cave. It remained to him a -white wall of light. When his mother was absent, he slept most -of the time, while during the intervals that he was awake he kept very -quiet, suppressing the whimpering cries that tickled in his throat and -strove for noise.

-

Once, lying awake, he heard a strange sound in the white wall. -He did not know that it was a wolverine, standing outside, all a-trembling -with its own daring, and cautiously scenting out the contents of the -cave. The cub knew only that the sniff was strange, a something -unclassified, therefore unknown and terrible—for the unknown was -one of the chief elements that went into the making of fear.

-

The hair bristled upon the grey cub’s back, but it bristled -silently. How was he to know that this thing that sniffed was -a thing at which to bristle? It was not born of any knowledge -of his, yet it was the visible expression of the fear that was in him, -and for which, in his own life, there was no accounting. But fear -was accompanied by another instinct—that of concealment. -The cub was in a frenzy of terror, yet he lay without movement or sound, -frozen, petrified into immobility, to all appearances dead. His -mother, coming home, growled as she smelt the wolverine’s track, -and bounded into the cave and licked and nozzled him with undue vehemence -of affection. And the cub felt that somehow he had escaped a great -hurt.

-

But there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of which -was growth. Instinct and law demanded of him obedience. -But growth demanded disobedience. His mother and fear impelled -him to keep away from the white wall. Growth is life, and life -is for ever destined to make for light. So there was no damming -up the tide of life that was rising within him—rising with every -mouthful of meat he swallowed, with every breath he drew. In the -end, one day, fear and obedience were swept away by the rush of life, -and the cub straddled and sprawled toward the entrance.

-

Unlike any other wall with which he had had experience, this wall -seemed to recede from him as he approached. No hard surface collided -with the tender little nose he thrust out tentatively before him. -The substance of the wall seemed as permeable and yielding as light. -And as condition, in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he entered -into what had been wall to him and bathed in the substance that composed -it.

-

It was bewildering. He was sprawling through solidity. -And ever the light grew brighter. Fear urged him to go back, but -growth drove him on. Suddenly he found himself at the mouth of -the cave. The wall, inside which he had thought himself, as suddenly -leaped back before him to an immeasurable distance. The light -had become painfully bright. He was dazzled by it. Likewise -he was made dizzy by this abrupt and tremendous extension of space. -Automatically, his eyes were adjusting themselves to the brightness, -focusing themselves to meet the increased distance of objects. -At first, the wall had leaped beyond his vision. He now saw it -again; but it had taken upon itself a remarkable remoteness. Also, -its appearance had changed. It was now a variegated wall, composed -of the trees that fringed the stream, the opposing mountain that towered -above the trees, and the sky that out-towered the mountain.

-

A great fear came upon him. This was more of the terrible unknown. -He crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world. -He was very much afraid. Because it was unknown, it was hostile -to him. Therefore the hair stood up on end along his back and -his lips wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidating -snarl. Out of his puniness and fright he challenged and menaced -the whole wide world.

-

Nothing happened. He continued to gaze, and in his interest -he forgot to snarl. Also, he forgot to be afraid. For the -time, fear had been routed by growth, while growth had assumed the guise -of curiosity. He began to notice near objects—an open portion -of the stream that flashed in the sun, the blasted pine-tree that stood -at the base of the slope, and the slope itself, that ran right up to -him and ceased two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he crouched.

-

Now the grey cub had lived all his days on a level floor. He -had never experienced the hurt of a fall. He did not know what -a fall was. So he stepped boldly out upon the air. His hind-legs -still rested on the cave-lip, so he fell forward head downward. -The earth struck him a harsh blow on the nose that made him yelp. -Then he began rolling down the slope, over and over. He was in -a panic of terror. The unknown had caught him at last. It -had gripped savagely hold of him and was about to wreak upon him some -terrific hurt. Growth was now routed by fear, and he ki-yi’d -like any frightened puppy.

-

The unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt, and he -yelped and ki-yi’d unceasingly. This was a different proposition -from crouching in frozen fear while the unknown lurked just alongside. -Now the unknown had caught tight hold of him. Silence would do -no good. Besides, it was not fear, but terror, that convulsed -him.

-

But the slope grew more gradual, and its base was grass-covered. -Here the cub lost momentum. When at last he came to a stop, he -gave one last agonised yell and then a long, whimpering wail. -Also, and quite as a matter of course, as though in his life he had -already made a thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry clay -that soiled him.

-

After that he sat up and gazed about him, as might the first man -of the earth who landed upon Mars. The cub had broken through -the wall of the world, the unknown had let go its hold of him, and here -he was without hurt. But the first man on Mars would have experienced -less unfamiliarity than did he. Without any antecedent knowledge, -without any warning whatever that such existed, he found himself an -explorer in a totally new world.

-

Now that the terrible unknown had let go of him, he forgot that the -unknown had any terrors. He was aware only of curiosity in all -the things about him. He inspected the grass beneath him, the -moss-berry plant just beyond, and the dead trunk of the blasted pine -that stood on the edge of an open space among the trees. A squirrel, -running around the base of the trunk, came full upon him, and gave him -a great fright. He cowered down and snarled. But the squirrel -was as badly scared. It ran up the tree, and from a point of safety -chattered back savagely.

-

This helped the cub’s courage, and though the woodpecker he -next encountered gave him a start, he proceeded confidently on his way. -Such was his confidence, that when a moose-bird impudently hopped up -to him, he reached out at it with a playful paw. The result was -a sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him cower down and ki-yi. -The noise he made was too much for the moose-bird, who sought safety -in flight.

-

But the cub was learning. His misty little mind had already -made an unconscious classification. There were live things and -things not alive. Also, he must watch out for the live things. -The things not alive remained always in one place, but the live things -moved about, and there was no telling what they might do. The -thing to expect of them was the unexpected, and for this he must be -prepared.

-

He travelled very clumsily. He ran into sticks and things. -A twig that he thought a long way off, would the next instant hit him -on the nose or rake along his ribs. There were inequalities of -surface. Sometimes he overstepped and stubbed his nose. -Quite as often he understepped and stubbed his feet. Then there -were the pebbles and stones that turned under him when he trod upon -them; and from them he came to know that the things not alive were not -all in the same state of stable equilibrium as was his cave—also, -that small things not alive were more liable than large things to fall -down or turn over. But with every mishap he was learning. -The longer he walked, the better he walked. He was adjusting himself. -He was learning to calculate his own muscular movements, to know his -physical limitations, to measure distances between objects, and between -objects and himself.

-

His was the luck of the beginner. Born to be a hunter of meat -(though he did not know it), he blundered upon meat just outside his -own cave-door on his first foray into the world. It was by sheer -blundering that he chanced upon the shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest. -He fell into it. He had essayed to walk along the trunk of a fallen -pine. The rotten bark gave way under his feet, and with a despairing -yelp he pitched down the rounded crescent, smashed through the leafage -and stalks of a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, on the ground, -fetched up in the midst of seven ptarmigan chicks.

-

They made noises, and at first he was frightened at them. Then -he perceived that they were very little, and he became bolder. -They moved. He placed his paw on one, and its movements were accelerated. -This was a source of enjoyment to him. He smelled it. He -picked it up in his mouth. It struggled and tickled his tongue. -At the same time he was made aware of a sensation of hunger. His -jaws closed together. There was a crunching of fragile bones, -and warm blood ran in his mouth. The taste of it was good. -This was meat, the same as his mother gave him, only it was alive between -his teeth and therefore better. So he ate the ptarmigan. -Nor did he stop till he had devoured the whole brood. Then he -licked his chops in quite the same way his mother did, and began to -crawl out of the bush.

-

He encountered a feathered whirlwind. He was confused and blinded -by the rush of it and the beat of angry wings. He hid his head -between his paws and yelped. The blows increased. The mother -ptarmigan was in a fury. Then he became angry. He rose up, -snarling, striking out with his paws. He sank his tiny teeth into -one of the wings and pulled and tugged sturdily. The ptarmigan -struggled against him, showering blows upon him with her free wing. -It was his first battle. He was elated. He forgot all about -the unknown. He no longer was afraid of anything. He was -fighting, tearing at a live thing that was striking at him. Also, -this live thing was meat. The lust to kill was on him. He -had just destroyed little live things. He would now destroy a -big live thing. He was too busy and happy to know that he was -happy. He was thrilling and exulting in ways new to him and greater -to him than any he had known before.

-

He held on to the wing and growled between his tight-clenched teeth. -The ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush. When she turned and -tried to drag him back into the bush’s shelter, he pulled her -away from it and on into the open. And all the time she was making -outcry and striking with her free wing, while feathers were flying like -a snow-fall. The pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous. -All the fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging through -him. This was living, though he did not know it. He was -realising his own meaning in the world; he was doing that for which -he was made—killing meat and battling to kill it. He was -justifying his existence, than which life can do no greater; for life -achieves its summit when it does to the uttermost that which it was -equipped to do.

-

After a time, the ptarmigan ceased her struggling. He still -held her by the wing, and they lay on the ground and looked at each -other. He tried to growl threateningly, ferociously. She -pecked on his nose, which by now, what of previous adventures was sore. -He winced but held on. She pecked him again and again. From -wincing he went to whimpering. He tried to back away from her, -oblivious to the fact that by his hold on her he dragged her after him. -A rain of pecks fell on his ill-used nose. The flood of fight -ebbed down in him, and, releasing his prey, he turned tail and scampered -on across the open in inglorious retreat.

-

He lay down to rest on the other side of the open, near the edge -of the bushes, his tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and panting, -his nose still hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper. -But as he lay there, suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something -terrible impending. The unknown with all its terrors rushed upon -him, and he shrank back instinctively into the shelter of the bush. -As he did so, a draught of air fanned him, and a large, winged body -swept ominously and silently past. A hawk, driving down out of -the blue, had barely missed him.

-

While he lay in the bush, recovering from his fright and peering -fearfully out, the mother-ptarmigan on the other side of the open space -fluttered out of the ravaged nest. It was because of her loss -that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky. But -the cub saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him—the swift -downward swoop of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the -ground, the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the ptarmigan’s -squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk’s rush upward into the -blue, carrying the ptarmigan away with it.

-

It was a long time before the cub left its shelter. He had -learned much. Live things were meat. They were good to eat. -Also, live things when they were large enough, could give hurt. -It was better to eat small live things like ptarmigan chicks, and to -let alone large live things like ptarmigan hens. Nevertheless -he felt a little prick of ambition, a sneaking desire to have another -battle with that ptarmigan hen—only the hawk had carried her away. -May be there were other ptarmigan hens. He would go and see.

-

He came down a shelving bank to the stream. He had never seen -water before. The footing looked good. There were no inequalities -of surface. He stepped boldly out on it; and went down, crying -with fear, into the embrace of the unknown. It was cold, and he -gasped, breathing quickly. The water rushed into his lungs instead -of the air that had always accompanied his act of breathing. The -suffocation he experienced was like the pang of death. To him -it signified death. He had no conscious knowledge of death, but -like every animal of the Wild, he possessed the instinct of death. -To him it stood as the greatest of hurts. It was the very essence -of the unknown; it was the sum of the terrors of the unknown, the one -culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen to him, about -which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything.

-

He came to the surface, and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth. -He did not go down again. Quite as though it had been a long-established -custom of his he struck out with all his legs and began to swim. -The near bank was a yard away; but he had come up with his back to it, -and the first thing his eyes rested upon was the opposite bank, toward -which he immediately began to swim. The stream was a small one, -but in the pool it widened out to a score of feet.

-

Midway in the passage, the current picked up the cub and swept him -downstream. He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom -of the pool. Here was little chance for swimming. The quiet -water had become suddenly angry. Sometimes he was under, sometimes -on top. At all times he was in violent motion, now being turned -over or around, and again, being smashed against a rock. And with -every rock he struck, he yelped. His progress was a series of -yelps, from which might have been adduced the number of rocks he encountered.

-

Below the rapid was a second pool, and here, captured by the eddy, -he was gently borne to the bank, and as gently deposited on a bed of -gravel. He crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down. -He had learned some more about the world. Water was not alive. -Yet it moved. Also, it looked as solid as the earth, but was without -any solidity at all. His conclusion was that things were not always -what they appeared to be. The cub’s fear of the unknown -was an inherited distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. -Thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding distrust -of appearances. He would have to learn the reality of a thing -before he could put his faith into it.

-

One other adventure was destined for him that day. He had recollected -that there was such a thing in the world as his mother. And then -there came to him a feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest -of the things in the world. Not only was his body tired with the -adventures it had undergone, but his little brain was equally tired. -In all the days he had lived it had not worked so hard as on this one -day. Furthermore, he was sleepy. So he started out to look -for the cave and his mother, feeling at the same time an overwhelming -rush of loneliness and helplessness.

-

He was sprawling along between some bushes, when he heard a sharp -intimidating cry. There was a flash of yellow before his eyes. -He saw a weasel leaping swiftly away from him. It was a small -live thing, and he had no fear. Then, before him, at his feet, -he saw an extremely small live thing, only several inches long, a young -weasel, that, like himself, had disobediently gone out adventuring. -It tried to retreat before him. He turned it over with his paw. -It made a queer, grating noise. The next moment the flash of yellow -reappeared before his eyes. He heard again the intimidating cry, -and at the same instant received a sharp blow on the side of the neck -and felt the sharp teeth of the mother-weasel cut into his flesh.

-

While he yelped and ki-yi’d and scrambled backward, he saw -the mother-weasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into -the neighbouring thicket. The cut of her teeth in his neck still -hurt, but his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and -weakly whimpered. This mother-weasel was so small and so savage. -He was yet to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most -ferocious, vindictive, and terrible of all the killers of the Wild. -But a portion of this knowledge was quickly to be his.

-

He was still whimpering when the mother-weasel reappeared. -She did not rush him, now that her young one was safe. She approached -more cautiously, and the cub had full opportunity to observe her lean, -snakelike body, and her head, erect, eager, and snake-like itself. -Her sharp, menacing cry sent the hair bristling along his back, and -he snarled warningly at her. She came closer and closer. -There was a leap, swifter than his unpractised sight, and the lean, -yellow body disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision. -The next moment she was at his throat, her teeth buried in his hair -and flesh.

-

At first he snarled and tried to fight; but he was very young, and -this was only his first day in the world, and his snarl became a whimper, -his fight a struggle to escape. The weasel never relaxed her hold. -She hung on, striving to press down with her teeth to the great vein -where his life-blood bubbled. The weasel was a drinker of blood, -and it was ever her preference to drink from the throat of life itself.

-

The grey cub would have died, and there would have been no story -to write about him, had not the she-wolf come bounding through the bushes. -The weasel let go the cub and flashed at the she-wolf’s throat, -missing, but getting a hold on the jaw instead. The she-wolf flirted -her head like the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel’s hold and -flinging it high in the air. And, still in the air, the she-wolf’s -jaws closed on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel knew death between -the crunching teeth.

-

The cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his -mother. Her joy at finding him seemed even greater than his joy -at being found. She nozzled him and caressed him and licked the -cuts made in him by the weasel’s teeth. Then, between them, -mother and cub, they ate the blood-drinker, and after that went back -to the cave and slept.

-
-
-

-Chapter VThe Law of Meat

-

The cub’s development was rapid. He rested for two days, -and then ventured forth from the cave again. It was on this adventure -that he found the young weasel whose mother he had helped eat, and he -saw to it that the young weasel went the way of its mother. But -on this trip he did not get lost. When he grew tired, he found -his way back to the cave and slept. And every day thereafter found -him out and ranging a wider area.

-

He began to get accurate measurement of his strength and his weakness, -and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious. He found -it expedient to be cautious all the time, except for the rare moments, -when, assured of his own intrepidity, he abandoned himself to petty -rages and lusts.

-

He was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray -ptarmigan. Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter -of the squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine. While the -sight of a moose-bird almost invariably put him into the wildest of -rages; for he never forgot the peck on the nose he had received from -the first of that ilk he encountered.

-

But there were times when even a moose-bird failed to affect him, -and those were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some -other prowling meat hunter. He never forgot the hawk, and its -moving shadow always sent him crouching into the nearest thicket. -He no longer sprawled and straddled, and already he was developing the -gait of his mother, slinking and furtive, apparently without exertion, -yet sliding along with a swiftness that was as deceptive as it was imperceptible.

-

In the matter of meat, his luck had been all in the beginning. -The seven ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of -his killings. His desire to kill strengthened with the days, and -he cherished hungry ambitions for the squirrel that chattered so volubly -and always informed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub was approaching. -But as birds flew in the air, squirrels could climb trees, and the cub -could only try to crawl unobserved upon the squirrel when it was on -the ground.

-

The cub entertained a great respect for his mother. She could -get meat, and she never failed to bring him his share. Further, -she was unafraid of things. It did not occur to him that this -fearlessness was founded upon experience and knowledge. Its effect -on him was that of an impression of power. His mother represented -power; and as he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonishment -of her paw; while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the -slash of her fangs. For this, likewise, he respected his mother. -She compelled obedience from him, and the older he grew the shorter -grew her temper.

-

Famine came again, and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once -more the bite of hunger. The she-wolf ran herself thin in the -quest for meat. She rarely slept any more in the cave, spending -most of her time on the meat-trail, and spending it vainly. This -famine was not a long one, but it was severe while it lasted. -The cub found no more milk in his mother’s breast, nor did he -get one mouthful of meat for himself.

-

Before, he had hunted in play, for the sheer joyousness of it; now -he hunted in deadly earnestness, and found nothing. Yet the failure -of it accelerated his development. He studied the habits of the -squirrel with greater carefulness, and strove with greater craft to -steal upon it and surprise it. He studied the wood-mice and tried -to dig them out of their burrows; and he learned much about the ways -of moose-birds and woodpeckers. And there came a day when the -hawk’s shadow did not drive him crouching into the bushes. -He had grown stronger and wiser, and more confident. Also, he -was desperate. So he sat on his haunches, conspicuously in an -open space, and challenged the hawk down out of the sky. For he -knew that there, floating in the blue above him, was meat, the meat -his stomach yearned after so insistently. But the hawk refused -to come down and give battle, and the cub crawled away into a thicket -and whimpered his disappointment and hunger.

-

The famine broke. The she-wolf brought home meat. It -was strange meat, different from any she had ever brought before. -It was a lynx kitten, partly grown, like the cub, but not so large. -And it was all for him. His mother had satisfied her hunger elsewhere; -though he did not know that it was the rest of the lynx litter that -had gone to satisfy her. Nor did he know the desperateness of -her deed. He knew only that the velvet-furred kitten was meat, -and he ate and waxed happier with every mouthful.

-

A full stomach conduces to inaction, and the cub lay in the cave, -sleeping against his mother’s side. He was aroused by her -snarling. Never had he heard her snarl so terribly. Possibly -in her whole life it was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. -There was reason for it, and none knew it better than she. A lynx’s -lair is not despoiled with impunity. In the full glare of the -afternoon light, crouching in the entrance of the cave, the cub saw -the lynx-mother. The hair rippled up along his back at the sight. -Here was fear, and it did not require his instinct to tell him of it. -And if sight alone were not sufficient, the cry of rage the intruder -gave, beginning with a snarl and rushing abruptly upward into a hoarse -screech, was convincing enough in itself.

-

The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and -snarled valiantly by his mother’s side. But she thrust him -ignominiously away and behind her. Because of the low-roofed entrance -the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling rush of it -the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down. The cub saw -little of the battle. There was a tremendous snarling and spitting -and screeching. The two animals threshed about, the lynx ripping -and tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf -used her teeth alone.

-

Once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the -lynx. He clung on, growling savagely. Though he did not -know it, by the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg -and thereby saved his mother much damage. A change in the battle -crushed him under both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold. -The next moment the two mothers separated, and, before they rushed together -again, the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped -his shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against -the wall. Then was added to the uproar the cub’s shrill -yelp of pain and fright. But the fight lasted so long that he -had time to cry himself out and to experience a second burst of courage; -and the end of the battle found him again clinging to a hind-leg and -furiously growling between his teeth.

-

The lynx was dead. But the she-wolf was very weak and sick. -At first she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the -blood she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a -day and a night she lay by her dead foe’s side, without movement, -scarcely breathing. For a week she never left the cave, except -for water, and then her movements were slow and painful. At the -end of that time the lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf’s wounds -had healed sufficiently to permit her to take the meat-trail again.

-

The cub’s shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he -limped from the terrible slash he had received. But the world -now seemed changed. He went about in it with greater confidence, -with a feeling of prowess that had not been his in the days before the -battle with the lynx. He had looked upon life in a more ferocious -aspect; he had fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; -and he had survived. And because of all this, he carried himself -more boldly, with a touch of defiance that was new in him. He -was no longer afraid of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, -though the unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries -and terrors, intangible and ever-menacing.

-

He began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much -of the killing of meat and began to play his part in it. And in -his own dim way he learned the law of meat. There were two kinds -of life—his own kind and the other kind. His own kind included -his mother and himself. The other kind included all live things -that moved. But the other kind was divided. One portion -was what his own kind killed and ate. This portion was composed -of the non-killers and the small killers. The other portion killed -and ate his own kind, or was killed and eaten by his own kind. -And out of this classification arose the law. The aim of life -was meat. Life itself was meat. Life lived on life. -There were the eaters and the eaten. The law was: EAT OR BE EATEN. -He did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralise about -it. He did not even think the law; he merely lived the law without -thinking about it at all.

-

He saw the law operating around him on every side. He had eaten -the ptarmigan chicks. The hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother. -The hawk would also have eaten him. Later, when he had grown more -formidable, he wanted to eat the hawk. He had eaten the lynx kitten. -The lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed -and eaten. And so it went. The law was being lived about -him by all live things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law. -He was a killer. His only food was meat, live meat, that ran away -swiftly before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in -the ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and -ran after him.

-

Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomised life -as a voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude -of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, -eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence -and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, -merciless, planless, endless.

-

But the cub did not think in man-fashion. He did not look at -things with wide vision. He was single-purposed, and entertained -but one thought or desire at a time. Besides the law of meat, -there were a myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey. -The world was filled with surprise. The stir of the life that -was in him, the play of his muscles, was an unending happiness. -To run down meat was to experience thrills and elations. His rages -and battles were pleasures. Terror itself, and the mystery of -the unknown, led to his living.

-

And there were easements and satisfactions. To have a full -stomach, to doze lazily in the sunshine—such things were remuneration -in full for his ardours and toils, while his ardours and tolls were -in themselves self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, -and life is always happy when it is expressing itself. So the -cub had no quarrel with his hostile environment. He was very much -alive, very happy, and very proud of himself.

-
-
-
-

Part III

-
-

-Chapter IThe Makers of Fire

-

The cub came upon it suddenly. It was his own fault. -He had been careless. He had left the cave and run down to the -stream to drink. It might have been that he took no notice because -he was heavy with sleep. (He had been out all night on the meat-trail, -and had but just then awakened.) And his carelessness might have -been due to the familiarity of the trail to the pool. He had travelled -it often, and nothing had ever happened on it.

-

He went down past the blasted pine, crossed the open space, and trotted -in amongst the trees. Then, at the same instant, he saw and smelt. -Before him, sitting silently on their haunches, were five live things, -the like of which he had never seen before. It was his first glimpse -of mankind. But at the sight of him the five men did not spring -to their feet, nor show their teeth, nor snarl. They did not move, -but sat there, silent and ominous.

-

Nor did the cub move. Every instinct of his nature would have -impelled him to dash wildly away, had there not suddenly and for the -first time arisen in him another and counter instinct. A great -awe descended upon him. He was beaten down to movelessness by -an overwhelming sense of his own weakness and littleness. Here -was mastery and power, something far and away beyond him.

-

The cub had never seen man, yet the instinct concerning man was his. -In dim ways he recognised in man the animal that had fought itself to -primacy over the other animals of the Wild. Not alone out of his -own eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now looking -upon man—out of eyes that had circled in the darkness around countless -winter camp-fires, that had peered from safe distances and from the -hearts of thickets at the strange, two-legged animal that was lord over -living things. The spell of the cub’s heritage was upon -him, the fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle and -the accumulated experience of the generations. The heritage was -too compelling for a wolf that was only a cub. Had he been full-grown, -he would have run away. As it was, he cowered down in a paralysis -of fear, already half proffering the submission that his kind had proffered -from the first time a wolf came in to sit by man’s fire and be -made warm.

-

One of the Indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above -him. The cub cowered closer to the ground. It was the unknown, -objectified at last, in concrete flesh and blood, bending over him and -reaching down to seize hold of him. His hair bristled involuntarily; -his lips writhed back and his little fangs were bared. The hand, -poised like doom above him, hesitated, and the man spoke laughing, “Wabam -wabisca ip pit tah.” (“Look! The white fangs!”)

-

The other Indians laughed loudly, and urged the man on to pick up -the cub. As the hand descended closer and closer, there raged -within the cub a battle of the instincts. He experienced two great -impulsions—to yield and to fight. The resulting action was -a compromise. He did both. He yielded till the hand almost -touched him. Then he fought, his teeth flashing in a snap that -sank them into the hand. The next moment he received a clout alongside -the head that knocked him over on his side. Then all fight fled -out of him. His puppyhood and the instinct of submission took -charge of him. He sat up on his haunches and ki-yi’d. -But the man whose hand he had bitten was angry. The cub received -a clout on the other side of his head. Whereupon he sat up and -ki-yi’d louder than ever.

-

The four Indians laughed more loudly, while even the man who had -been bitten began to laugh. They surrounded the cub and laughed -at him, while he wailed out his terror and his hurt. In the midst -of it, he heard something. The Indians heard it too. But -the cub knew what it was, and with a last, long wail that had in it -more of triumph than grief, he ceased his noise and waited for the coming -of his mother, of his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and -killed all things and was never afraid. She was snarling as she -ran. She had heard the cry of her cub and was dashing to save -him.

-

She bounded in amongst them, her anxious and militant motherhood -making her anything but a pretty sight. But to the cub the spectacle -of her protective rage was pleasing. He uttered a glad little -cry and bounded to meet her, while the man-animals went back hastily -several steps. The she-wolf stood over against her cub, facing -the men, with bristling hair, a snarl rumbling deep in her throat. -Her face was distorted and malignant with menace, even the bridge of -the nose wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl.

-

Then it was that a cry went up from one of the men. “Kiche!” -was what he uttered. It was an exclamation of surprise. -The cub felt his mother wilting at the sound.

-

“Kiche!” the man cried again, this time with sharpness -and authority.

-

And then the cub saw his mother, the she-wolf, the fearless one, -crouching down till her belly touched the ground, whimpering, wagging -her tail, making peace signs. The cub could not understand. -He was appalled. The awe of man rushed over him again. His -instinct had been true. His mother verified it. She, too, -rendered submission to the man-animals.

-

The man who had spoken came over to her. He put his hand upon -her head, and she only crouched closer. She did not snap, nor -threaten to snap. The other men came up, and surrounded her, and -felt her, and pawed her, which actions she made no attempt to resent. -They were greatly excited, and made many noises with their mouths. -These noises were not indication of danger, the cub decided, as he crouched -near his mother still bristling from time to time but doing his best -to submit.

-

“It is not strange,” an Indian was saying. “Her -father was a wolf. It is true, her mother was a dog; but did not -my brother tie her out in the woods all of three nights in the mating -season? Therefore was the father of Kiche a wolf.”

-

“It is a year, Grey Beaver, since she ran away,” spoke -a second Indian.

-

“It is not strange, Salmon Tongue,” Grey Beaver answered. -“It was the time of the famine, and there was no meat for the -dogs.”

-

“She has lived with the wolves,” said a third Indian.

-

“So it would seem, Three Eagles,” Grey Beaver answered, -laying his hand on the cub; “and this be the sign of it.”

-

The cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand, and the hand flew -back to administer a clout. Whereupon the cub covered its fangs, -and sank down submissively, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind -his ears, and up and down his back.

-

“This be the sign of it,” Grey Beaver went on. -“It is plain that his mother is Kiche. But his father was -a wolf. Wherefore is there in him little dog and much wolf. -His fangs be white, and White Fang shall be his name. I have spoken. -He is my dog. For was not Kiche my brother’s dog? -And is not my brother dead?”

-

The cub, who had thus received a name in the world, lay and watched. -For a time the man-animals continued to make their mouth-noises. -Then Grey Beaver took a knife from a sheath that hung around his neck, -and went into the thicket and cut a stick. White Fang watched -him. He notched the stick at each end and in the notches fastened -strings of raw-hide. One string he tied around the throat of Kiche. -Then he led her to a small pine, around which he tied the other string.

-

White Fang followed and lay down beside her. Salmon Tongue’s -hand reached out to him and rolled him over on his back. Kiche -looked on anxiously. White Fang felt fear mounting in him again. -He could not quite suppress a snarl, but he made no offer to snap. -The hand, with fingers crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stomach -in a playful way and rolled him from side to side. It was ridiculous -and ungainly, lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air. -Besides, it was a position of such utter helplessness that White Fang’s -whole nature revolted against it. He could do nothing to defend -himself. If this man-animal intended harm, White Fang knew that -he could not escape it. How could he spring away with his four -legs in the air above him? Yet submission made him master his -fear, and he only growled softly. This growl he could not suppress; -nor did the man-animal resent it by giving him a blow on the head. -And furthermore, such was the strangeness of it, White Fang experienced -an unaccountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and forth. -When he was rolled on his side he ceased to growl, when the fingers -pressed and prodded at the base of his ears the pleasurable sensation -increased; and when, with a final rub and scratch, the man left him -alone and went away, all fear had died out of White Fang. He was -to know fear many times in his dealing with man; yet it was a token -of the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to be his.

-

After a time, White Fang heard strange noises approaching. -He was quick in his classification, for he knew them at once for man-animal -noises. A few minutes later the remainder of the tribe, strung -out as it was on the march, trailed in. There were more men and -many women and children, forty souls of them, and all heavily burdened -with camp equipage and outfit. Also there were many dogs; and -these, with the exception of the part-grown puppies, were likewise burdened -with camp outfit. On their backs, in bags that fastened tightly -around underneath, the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of -weight.

-

White Fang had never seen dogs before, but at sight of them he felt -that they were his own kind, only somehow different. But they -displayed little difference from the wolf when they discovered the cub -and his mother. There was a rush. White Fang bristled and -snarled and snapped in the face of the open-mouthed oncoming wave of -dogs, and went down and under them, feeling the sharp slash of teeth -in his body, himself biting and tearing at the legs and bellies above -him. There was a great uproar. He could hear the snarl of -Kiche as she fought for him; and he could hear the cries of the man-animals, -the sound of clubs striking upon bodies, and the yelps of pain from -the dogs so struck.

-

Only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again. -He could now see the man-animals driving back the dogs with clubs and -stones, defending him, saving him from the savage teeth of his kind -that somehow was not his kind. And though there was no reason -in his brain for a clear conception of so abstract a thing as justice, -nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the justice of the man-animals, -and he knew them for what they were—makers of law and executors -of law. Also, he appreciated the power with which they administered -the law. Unlike any animals he had ever encountered, they did -not bite nor claw. They enforced their live strength with the -power of dead things. Dead things did their bidding. Thus, -sticks and stones, directed by these strange creatures, leaped through -the air like living things, inflicting grievous hurts upon the dogs.

-

To his mind this was power unusual, power inconceivable and beyond -the natural, power that was godlike. White Fang, in the very nature -of him, could never know anything about gods; at the best he could know -only things that were beyond knowing—but the wonder and awe that -he had of these man-animals in ways resembled what would be the wonder -and awe of man at sight of some celestial creature, on a mountain top, -hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an astonished world.

-

The last dog had been driven back. The hubbub died down. -And White Fang licked his hurts and meditated upon this, his first taste -of pack-cruelty and his introduction to the pack. He had never -dreamed that his own kind consisted of more than One Eye, his mother, -and himself. They had constituted a kind apart, and here, abruptly, -he had discovered many more creatures apparently of his own kind. -And there was a subconscious resentment that these, his kind, at first -sight had pitched upon him and tried to destroy him. In the same -way he resented his mother being tied with a stick, even though it was -done by the superior man-animals. It savoured of the trap, of -bondage. Yet of the trap and of bondage he knew nothing. -Freedom to roam and run and lie down at will, had been his heritage; -and here it was being infringed upon. His mother’s movements -were restricted to the length of a stick, and by the length of that -same stick was he restricted, for he had not yet got beyond the need -of his mother’s side.

-

He did not like it. Nor did he like it when the man-animals -arose and went on with their march; for a tiny man-animal took the other -end of the stick and led Kiche captive behind him, and behind Kiche -followed White Fang, greatly perturbed and worried by this new adventure -he had entered upon.

-

They went down the valley of the stream, far beyond White Fang’s -widest ranging, until they came to the end of the valley, where the -stream ran into the Mackenzie River. Here, where canoes were cached -on poles high in the air and where stood fish-racks for the drying of -fish, camp was made; and White Fang looked on with wondering eyes. -The superiority of these man-animals increased with every moment. -There was their mastery over all these sharp-fanged dogs. It breathed -of power. But greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was their mastery -over things not alive; their capacity to communicate motion to unmoving -things; their capacity to change the very face of the world.

-

It was this last that especially affected him. The elevation -of frames of poles caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so remarkable, -being done by the same creatures that flung sticks and stones to great -distances. But when the frames of poles were made into tepees -by being covered with cloth and skins, White Fang was astounded. -It was the colossal bulk of them that impressed him. They arose -around him, on every side, like some monstrous quick-growing form of -life. They occupied nearly the whole circumference of his field -of vision. He was afraid of them. They loomed ominously -above him; and when the breeze stirred them into huge movements, he -cowered down in fear, keeping his eyes warily upon them, and prepared -to spring away if they attempted to precipitate themselves upon him.

-

But in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away. He -saw the women and children passing in and out of them without harm, -and he saw the dogs trying often to get into them, and being driven -away with sharp words and flying stones. After a time, he left -Kiche’s side and crawled cautiously toward the wall of the nearest -tepee. It was the curiosity of growth that urged him on—the -necessity of learning and living and doing that brings experience. -The last few inches to the wall of the tepee were crawled with painful -slowness and precaution. The day’s events had prepared him -for the unknown to manifest itself in most stupendous and unthinkable -ways. At last his nose touched the canvas. He waited. -Nothing happened. Then he smelled the strange fabric, saturated -with the man-smell. He closed on the canvas with his teeth and -gave a gentle tug. Nothing happened, though the adjacent portions -of the tepee moved. He tugged harder. There was a greater -movement. It was delightful. He tugged still harder, and -repeatedly, until the whole tepee was in motion. Then the sharp -cry of a squaw inside sent him scampering back to Kiche. But after -that he was afraid no more of the looming bulks of the tepees.

-

A moment later he was straying away again from his mother. -Her stick was tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him. -A part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came toward him -slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance. The puppy’s -name, as White Fang was afterward to hear him called, was Lip-lip. -He had had experience in puppy fights and was already something of a -bully.

-

Lip-lip was White Fang’s own kind, and, being only a puppy, -did not seem dangerous; so White Fang prepared to meet him in a friendly -spirit. But when the strangers walk became stiff-legged and his -lips lifted clear of his teeth, White Fang stiffened too, and answered -with lifted lips. They half circled about each other, tentatively, -snarling and bristling. This lasted several minutes, and White -Fang was beginning to enjoy it, as a sort of game. But suddenly, -with remarkable swiftness, Lip-lip leaped in, delivering a slashing -snap, and leaped away again. The snap had taken effect on the -shoulder that had been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep -down near the bone. The surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp -out of White Fang; but the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon -Lip-lip and snapping viciously.

-

But Lip-lip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy fights. -Three times, four times, and half a dozen times, his sharp little teeth -scored on the newcomer, until White Fang, yelping shamelessly, fled -to the protection of his mother. It was the first of the many -fights he was to have with Lip-lip, for they were enemies from the start, -born so, with natures destined perpetually to clash.

-

Kiche licked White Fang soothingly with her tongue, and tried to -prevail upon him to remain with her. But his curiosity was rampant, -and several minutes later he was venturing forth on a new quest. -He came upon one of the man-animals, Grey Beaver, who was squatting -on his hams and doing something with sticks and dry moss spread before -him on the ground. White Fang came near to him and watched. -Grey Beaver made mouth-noises which White Fang interpreted as not hostile, -so he came still nearer.

-

Women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to Grey -Beaver. It was evidently an affair of moment. White Fang -came in until he touched Grey Beaver’s knee, so curious was he, -and already forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. Suddenly -he saw a strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks -and moss beneath Grey Beaver’s hands. Then, amongst the -sticks themselves, appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a -colour like the colour of the sun in the sky. White Fang knew -nothing about fire. It drew him as the light, in the mouth of -the cave had drawn him in his early puppyhood. He crawled the -several steps toward the flame. He heard Grey Beaver chuckle above -him, and he knew the sound was not hostile. Then his nose touched -the flame, and at the same instant his little tongue went out to it.

-

For a moment he was paralysed. The unknown, lurking in the -midst of the sticks and moss, was savagely clutching him by the nose. -He scrambled backward, bursting out in an astonished explosion of ki-yi’s. -At the sound, Kiche leaped snarling to the end of her stick, and there -raged terribly because she could not come to his aid. But Grey -Beaver laughed loudly, and slapped his thighs, and told the happening -to all the rest of the camp, till everybody was laughing uproariously. -But White Fang sat on his haunches and ki-yi’d and ki-yi’d, -a forlorn and pitiable little figure in the midst of the man-animals.

-

It was the worst hurt he had ever known. Both nose and tongue -had been scorched by the live thing, sun-coloured, that had grown up -under Grey Beaver’s hands. He cried and cried interminably, -and every fresh wail was greeted by bursts of laughter on the part of -the man-animals. He tried to soothe his nose with his tongue, -but the tongue was burnt too, and the two hurts coming together produced -greater hurt; whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than -ever.

-

And then shame came to him. He knew laughter and the meaning -of it. It is not given us to know how some animals know laughter, -and know when they are being laughed at; but it was this same way that -White Fang knew it. And he felt shame that the man-animals should -be laughing at him. He turned and fled away, not from the hurt -of the fire, but from the laughter that sank even deeper, and hurt in -the spirit of him. And he fled to Kiche, raging at the end of -her stick like an animal gone mad—to Kiche, the one creature in -the world who was not laughing at him.

-

Twilight drew down and night came on, and White Fang lay by his mother’s -side. His nose and tongue still hurt, but he was perplexed by -a greater trouble. He was homesick. He felt a vacancy in -him, a need for the hush and quietude of the stream and the cave in -the cliff. Life had become too populous. There were so many -of the man-animals, men, women, and children, all making noises and -irritations. And there were the dogs, ever squabbling and bickering, -bursting into uproars and creating confusions. The restful loneliness -of the only life he had known was gone. Here the very air was -palpitant with life. It hummed and buzzed unceasingly. Continually -changing its intensity and abruptly variant in pitch, it impinged on -his nerves and senses, made him nervous and restless and worried him -with a perpetual imminence of happening.

-

He watched the man-animals coming and going and moving about the -camp. In fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the -gods they create, so looked White Fang upon the man-animals before him. -They were superior creatures, of a verity, gods. To his dim comprehension -they were as much wonder-workers as gods are to men. They were -creatures of mastery, possessing all manner of unknown and impossible -potencies, overlords of the alive and the not alive—making obey -that which moved, imparting movement to that which did not move, and -making life, sun-coloured and biting life, to grow out of dead moss -and wood. They were fire-makers! They were gods.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIThe Bondage

-

The days were thronged with experience for White Fang. During -the time that Kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about over all the -camp, inquiring, investigating, learning. He quickly came to know -much of the ways of the man-animals, but familiarity did not breed contempt. -The more he came to know them, the more they vindicated their superiority, -the more they displayed their mysterious powers, the greater loomed -their god-likeness.

-

To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown -and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have -come in to crouch at man’s feet, this grief has never come. -Unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, vapours -and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths -of desired goodness and power, intangible out-croppings of self into -the realm of spirit—unlike man, the wolf and the wild dog that -have come in to the fire find their gods in the living flesh, solid -to the touch, occupying earth-space and requiring time for the accomplishment -of their ends and their existence. No effort of faith is necessary -to believe in such a god; no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief -in such a god. There is no getting away from it. There it -stands, on its two hind-legs, club in hand, immensely potential, passionate -and wrathful and loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and -around by flesh that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat -like any flesh.

-

And so it was with White Fang. The man-animals were gods unmistakable -and unescapable. As his mother, Kiche, had rendered her allegiance -to them at the first cry of her name, so he was beginning to render -his allegiance. He gave them the trail as a privilege indubitably -theirs. When they walked, he got out of their way. When -they called, he came. When they threatened, he cowered down. -When they commanded him to go, he went away hurriedly. For behind -any wish of theirs was power to enforce that wish, power that hurt, -power that expressed itself in clouts and clubs, in flying stones and -stinging lashes of whips.

-

He belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. His actions -were theirs to command. His body was theirs to maul, to stamp -upon, to tolerate. Such was the lesson that was quickly borne -in upon him. It came hard, going as it did, counter to much that -was strong and dominant in his own nature; and, while he disliked it -in the learning of it, unknown to himself he was learning to like it. -It was a placing of his destiny in another’s hands, a shifting -of the responsibilities of existence. This in itself was compensation, -for it is always easier to lean upon another than to stand alone.

-

But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, -body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego -his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days -when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something -calling him far and away. And always he returned, restless and -uncomfortable, to whimper softly and wistfully at Kiche’s side -and to lick her face with eager, questioning tongue.

-

White Fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp. He knew the -injustice and greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was thrown -out to be eaten. He came to know that men were more just, children -more cruel, and women more kindly and more likely to toss him a bit -of meat or bone. And after two or three painful adventures with -the mothers of part-grown puppies, he came into the knowledge that it -was always good policy to let such mothers alone, to keep away from -them as far as possible, and to avoid them when he saw them coming.

-

But the bane of his life was Lip-lip. Larger, older, and stronger, -Lip-lip had selected White Fang for his special object of persecution. -White Fang fought willingly enough, but he was outclassed. His -enemy was too big. Lip-lip became a nightmare to him. Whenever -he ventured away from his mother, the bully was sure to appear, trailing -at his heels, snarling at him, picking upon him, and watchful of an -opportunity, when no man-animal was near, to spring upon him and force -a fight. As Lip-lip invariably won, he enjoyed it hugely. -It became his chief delight in life, as it became White Fang’s -chief torment.

-

But the effect upon White Fang was not to cow him. Though he -suffered most of the damage and was always defeated, his spirit remained -unsubdued. Yet a bad effect was produced. He became malignant -and morose. His temper had been savage by birth, but it became -more savage under this unending persecution. The genial, playful, -puppyish side of him found little expression. He never played -and gambolled about with the other puppies of the camp. Lip-lip -would not permit it. The moment White Fang appeared near them, -Lip-lip was upon him, bullying and hectoring him, or fighting with him -until he had driven him away.

-

The effect of all this was to rob White Fang of much of his puppyhood -and to make him in his comportment older than his age. Denied -the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself -and developed his mental processes. He became cunning; he had -idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. -Prevented from obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general feed -was given to the camp-dogs, he became a clever thief. He had to -forage for himself, and he foraged well, though he was oft-times a plague -to the squaws in consequence. He learned to sneak about camp, -to be crafty, to know what was going on everywhere, to see and to hear -everything and to reason accordingly, and successfully to devise ways -and means of avoiding his implacable persecutor.

-

It was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first -really big crafty game and got there from his first taste of revenge. -As Kiche, when with the wolves, had lured out to destruction dogs from -the camps of men, so White Fang, in manner somewhat similar, lured Lip-lip -into Kiche’s avenging jaws. Retreating before Lip-lip, White -Fang made an indirect flight that led in and out and around the various -tepees of the camp. He was a good runner, swifter than any puppy -of his size, and swifter than Lip-lip. But he did not run his -best in this chase. He barely held his own, one leap ahead of -his pursuer.

-

Lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his -victim, forgot caution and locality. When he remembered locality, -it was too late. Dashing at top speed around a tepee, he ran full -tilt into Kiche lying at the end of her stick. He gave one yelp -of consternation, and then her punishing jaws closed upon him. -She was tied, but he could not get away from her easily. She rolled -him off his legs so that he could not run, while she repeatedly ripped -and slashed him with her fangs.

-

When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to -his feet, badly dishevelled, hurt both in body and in spirit. -His hair was standing out all over him in tufts where her teeth had -mauled. He stood where he had arisen, opened his mouth, and broke -out the long, heart-broken puppy wail. But even this he was not -allowed to complete. In the middle of it, White Fang, rushing -in, sank his teeth into Lip-lip’s hind leg. There was no -fight left in Lip-lip, and he ran away shamelessly, his victim hot on -his heels and worrying him all the way back to his own tepee. -Here the squaws came to his aid, and White Fang, transformed into a -raging demon, was finally driven off only by a fusillade of stones.

-

Came the day when Grey Beaver, deciding that the liability of her -running away was past, released Kiche. White Fang was delighted -with his mother’s freedom. He accompanied her joyfully about -the camp; and, so long as he remained close by her side, Lip-lip kept -a respectful distance. White-Fang even bristled up to him and -walked stiff-legged, but Lip-lip ignored the challenge. He was -no fool himself, and whatever vengeance he desired to wreak, he could -wait until he caught White Fang alone.

-

Later on that day, Kiche and White Fang strayed into the edge of -the woods next to the camp. He had led his mother there, step -by step, and now when she stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. -The stream, the lair, and the quiet woods were calling to him, and he -wanted her to come. He ran on a few steps, stopped, and looked -back. She had not moved. He whined pleadingly, and scurried -playfully in and out of the underbrush. He ran back to her, licked -her face, and ran on again. And still she did not move. -He stopped and regarded her, all of an intentness and eagerness, physically -expressed, that slowly faded out of him as she turned her head and gazed -back at the camp.

-

There was something calling to him out there in the open. His -mother heard it too. But she heard also that other and louder -call, the call of the fire and of man—the call which has been -given alone of all animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf and the -wild-dog, who are brothers.

-

Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. Stronger -than the physical restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp -upon her. Unseen and occultly, the gods still gripped with their -power and would not let her go. White Fang sat down in the shadow -of a birch and whimpered softly. There was a strong smell of pine, -and subtle wood fragrances filled the air, reminding him of his old -life of freedom before the days of his bondage. But he was still -only a part-grown puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or -of the Wild was the call of his mother. All the hours of his short -life he had depended upon her. The time was yet to come for independence. -So he arose and trotted forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and twice, -to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call that still sounded -in the depths of the forest.

-

In the Wild the time of a mother with her young is short; but under -the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. Thus it was -with White Fang. Grey Beaver was in the debt of Three Eagles. -Three Eagles was going away on a trip up the Mackenzie to the Great -Slave Lake. A strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty cartridges, -and Kiche, went to pay the debt. White Fang saw his mother taken -aboard Three Eagles’ canoe, and tried to follow her. A blow -from Three Eagles knocked him backward to the land. The canoe -shoved off. He sprang into the water and swam after it, deaf to -the sharp cries of Grey Beaver to return. Even a man-animal, a -god, White Fang ignored, such was the terror he was in of losing his -mother.

-

But gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and Grey Beaver wrathfully -launched a canoe in pursuit. When he overtook White Fang, he reached -down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear of the water. -He did not deposit him at once in the bottom of the canoe. Holding -him suspended with one hand, with the other hand he proceeded to give -him a beating. And it was a beating. His hand was -heavy. Every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he delivered a multitude -of blows.

-

Impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side, now -from that, White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky -pendulum. Varying were the emotions that surged through him. -At first, he had known surprise. Then came a momentary fear, when -he yelped several times to the impact of the hand. But this was -quickly followed by anger. His free nature asserted itself, and -he showed his teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of the wrathful -god. This but served to make the god more wrathful. The -blows came faster, heavier, more shrewd to hurt.

-

Grey Beaver continued to beat, White Fang continued to snarl. -But this could not last for ever. One or the other must give over, -and that one was White Fang. Fear surged through him again. -For the first time he was being really man-handled. The occasional -blows of sticks and stones he had previously experienced were as caresses -compared with this. He broke down and began to cry and yelp. -For a time each blow brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into terror, -until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession, unconnected -with the rhythm of the punishment.

-

At last Grey Beaver withheld his hand. White Fang, hanging -limply, continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who -flung him down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. In the meantime -the canoe had drifted down the stream. Grey Beaver picked up the -paddle. White Fang was in his way. He spurned him savagely -with his foot. In that moment White Fang’s free nature flashed -forth again, and he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot.

-

The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the -beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; -likewise was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but -the hard wooden paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore -in all his small body when he was again flung down in the canoe. -Again, and this time with purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White -Fang did not repeat his attack on the foot. He had learned another -lesson of his bondage. Never, no matter what the circumstance, -must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body -of the lord and master was sacred, not to be defiled by the teeth of -such as he. That was evidently the crime of crimes, the one offence -there was no condoning nor overlooking.

-

When the canoe touched the shore, White Fang lay whimpering and motionless, -waiting the will of Grey Beaver. It was Grey Beaver’s will -that he should go ashore, for ashore he was flung, striking heavily -on his side and hurting his bruises afresh. He crawled tremblingly -to his feet and stood whimpering. Lip-lip, who had watched the -whole proceeding from the bank, now rushed upon him, knocking him over -and sinking his teeth into him. White Fang was too helpless to -defend himself, and it would have gone hard with him had not Grey Beaver’s -foot shot out, lifting Lip-lip into the air with its violence so that -he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. This was the man-animal’s -justice; and even then, in his own pitiable plight, White Fang experienced -a little grateful thrill. At Grey Beaver’s heels he limped -obediently through the village to the tepee. And so it came that -White Fang learned that the right to punish was something the gods reserved -for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under them.

-

That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother -and sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey -Beaver, who beat him. After that he mourned gently when the gods -were around. But sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods -by himself, he gave vent to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings -and wailings.

-

It was during this period that he might have harkened to the memories -of the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild. But the memory -of his mother held him. As the hunting man-animals went out and -came back, so she would come back to the village some time. So -he remained in his bondage waiting for her.

-

But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage. There was much -to interest him. Something was always happening. There was -no end to the strange things these gods did, and he was always curious -to see. Besides, he was learning how to get along with Grey Beaver. -Obedience, rigid, undeviating obedience, was what was exacted of him; -and in return he escaped beatings and his existence was tolerated.

-

Nay, Grey Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat, and -defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it. And such -a piece of meat was of value. It was worth more, in some strange -way, then a dozen pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw. Grey -Beaver never petted nor caressed. Perhaps it was the weight of -his hand, perhaps his justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps -it was all these things that influenced White Fang; for a certain tie -of attachment was forming between him and his surly lord.

-

Insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick -and stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of White Fang’s -bondage being riveted upon him. The qualities in his kind that -in the beginning made it possible for them to come in to the fires of -men, were qualities capable of development. They were developing -in him, and the camp-life, replete with misery as it was, was secretly -endearing itself to him all the time. But White Fang was unaware -of it. He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche, hope for her -return, and a hungry yearning for the free life that had been his.

-
-
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-Chapter IIIThe Outcast

-

Lip-lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became wickeder -and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. Savageness -was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus developed exceeded -his make-up. He acquired a reputation for wickedness amongst the -man-animals themselves. Wherever there was trouble and uproar -in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over a bit -of stolen meat, they were sure to find White Fang mixed up in it and -usually at the bottom of it. They did not bother to look after -the causes of his conduct. They saw only the effects, and the -effects were bad. He was a sneak and a thief, a mischief-maker, -a fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to his face, the while -he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick-flung missile, that -he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end.

-

He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp. -All the young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. There was a -difference between White Fang and them. Perhaps they sensed his -wild-wood breed, and instinctively felt for him the enmity that the -domestic dog feels for the wolf. But be that as it may, they joined -with Lip-lip in the persecution. And, once declared against him, -they found good reason to continue declared against him. One and -all, from time to time, they felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave -more than he received. Many of them he could whip in single fight; -but single fight was denied him. The beginning of such a fight -was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running and pitch -upon him.

-

Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how -to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him—and how, on -a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest -space of time. To keep one’s feet in the midst of the hostile -mass meant life, and this he learnt well. He became cat-like in -his ability to stay on his feet. Even grown dogs might hurtle -him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies; and -backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding on the ground, -but always with his legs under him and his feet downward to the mother -earth.

-

When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual combat—snarlings -and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But White Fang learned -to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the coming against him -of all the young dogs. He must do his work quickly and get away. -So he learnt to give no warning of his intention. He rushed in -and snapped and slashed on the instant, without notice, before his foe -could prepare to meet him. Thus he learned how to inflict quick -and severe damage. Also he learned the value of surprise. -A dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped -in ribbons before it knew what was happening, was a dog half whipped.

-

Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by surprise; -while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a moment the soft -underside of its neck—the vulnerable point at which to strike -for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was a knowledge -bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of wolves. -So it was that White Fang’s method when he took the offensive, -was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise it and knock -it off its feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat.

-

Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor -strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog -went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White Fang’s -intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the -edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and attacking -the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. There -was a great row that night. He had been observed, the news had -been carried to the dead dog’s master, the squaws remembered all -the instances of stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was beset by many angry -voices. But he resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which -he had placed the culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for which -his tribespeople clamoured.

-

White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period -of his development he never knew a moment’s security. The -tooth of every dog was against him, the hand of every man. He -was greeted with snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. -He lived tensely. He was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary -of being attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared -to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, or -to leap away with a menacing snarl.

-

As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young -or old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, -and judgment is required to know when it should be used. White -Fang knew how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he -incorporated all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With -nose serrulated by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves, -tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears flattened -down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and -dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant. -A temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him the vital moment -in which to think and determine his action. But often a pause -so gained lengthened out until it evolved into a complete cessation -from the attack. And before more than one of the grown dogs White -Fang’s snarl enabled him to beat an honourable retreat.

-

An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his sanguinary -methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its persecution -of him. Not permitted himself to run with the pack, the curious -state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack could run outside -the pack. White Fang would not permit it. What of his bushwhacking -and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run by themselves. -With the exception of Lip-lip, they were compelled to hunch together -for mutual protection against the terrible enemy they had made. -A puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused -the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub -that had waylaid it.

-

But White Fang’s reprisals did not cease, even when the young -dogs had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked -them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were -bunched. The sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing -after him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety. -But woe the dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! White -Fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of -the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive. -This occurred with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs -were prone to forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while -White Fang never forgot himself. Stealing backward glances as -he ran, he was always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous -pursuer that outran his fellows.

-

Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the situation -they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it was that -the hunt of White Fang became their chief game—a deadly game, -withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other hand, -being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. During -the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, he led -the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. But the -pack invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him of its -presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a moving shadow -among the trees after the manner of his father and mother before him. -Further he was more directly connected with the Wild than they; and -he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. A favourite trick -of his was to lose his trail in running water and then lie quietly in -a near-by thicket while their baffled cries arose around him.

-

Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred -upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and -one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom -in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. The -code he learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak. -Grey Beaver was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed -him. But the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing -to be destroyed. His development was in the direction of power. -In order to face the constant danger of hurt and even of destruction, -his predatory and protective faculties were unduly developed. -He became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, -craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, -more enduring, more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent. -He had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own -nor survive the hostile environment in which he found himself.

-
-
-

-Chapter IVThe Trail of the Gods

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In the fall of the year, when the days were shortening and the bite -of the frost was coming into the air, White Fang got his chance for -liberty. For several days there had been a great hubbub in the -village. The summer camp was being dismantled, and the tribe, -bag and baggage, was preparing to go off to the fall hunting. -White Fang watched it all with eager eyes, and when the tepees began -to come down and the canoes were loading at the bank, he understood. -Already the canoes were departing, and some had disappeared down the -river.

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Quite deliberately he determined to stay behind. He waited -his opportunity to slink out of camp to the woods. Here, in the -running stream where ice was beginning to form, he hid his trail. -Then he crawled into the heart of a dense thicket and waited. -The time passed by, and he slept intermittently for hours. Then -he was aroused by Grey Beaver’s voice calling him by name. -There were other voices. White Fang could hear Grey Beaver’s -squaw taking part in the search, and Mit-sah, who was Grey Beaver’s -son.

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White Fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl -out of his hiding-place, he resisted it. After a time the voices -died away, and some time after that he crept out to enjoy the success -of his undertaking. Darkness was coming on, and for a while he -played about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. Then, -and quite suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. He sat down -to consider, listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by -it. That nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. He felt -the lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. He was suspicious -of the looming bulks of the trees and of the dark shadows that might -conceal all manner of perilous things.

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Then it was cold. Here was no warm side of a tepee against -which to snuggle. The frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting -first one fore-foot and then the other. He curved his bushy tail -around to cover them, and at the same time he saw a vision. There -was nothing strange about it. Upon his inward sight was impressed -a succession of memory-pictures. He saw the camp again, the tepees, -and the blaze of the fires. He heard the shrill voices of the -women, the gruff basses of the men, and the snarling of the dogs. -He was hungry, and he remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been -thrown him. Here was no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible -silence.

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His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened -him. He had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night -yawned about him. His senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle -of the camp, used to the continuous impact of sights and sounds, were -now left idle. There was nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear. -They strained to catch some interruption of the silence and immobility -of nature. They were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something -terrible impending.

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He gave a great start of fright. A colossal and formless something -was rushing across the field of his vision. It was a tree-shadow -flung by the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away. -Reassured, he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for fear -that it might attract the attention of the lurking dangers.

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A tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise. -It was directly above him. He yelped in his fright. A panic -seized him, and he ran madly toward the village. He knew an overpowering -desire for the protection and companionship of man. In his nostrils -was the smell of the camp-smoke. In his ears the camp-sounds and -cries were ringing loud. He passed out of the forest and into -the moonlit open where were no shadows nor darknesses. But no -village greeted his eyes. He had forgotten. The village -had gone away.

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His wild flight ceased abruptly. There was no place to which -to flee. He slunk forlornly through the deserted camp, smelling -the rubbish-heaps and the discarded rags and tags of the gods. -He would have been glad for the rattle of stones about him, flung by -an angry squaw, glad for the hand of Grey Beaver descending upon him -in wrath; while he would have welcomed with delight Lip-lip and the -whole snarling, cowardly pack.

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He came to where Grey Beaver’s tepee had stood. In the -centre of the space it had occupied, he sat down. He pointed his -nose at the moon. His throat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his -mouth opened, and in a heart-broken cry bubbled up his loneliness and -fear, his grief for Kiche, all his past sorrows and miseries as well -as his apprehension of sufferings and dangers to come. It was -the long wolf-howl, full-throated and mournful, the first howl he had -ever uttered.

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The coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his loneliness. -The naked earth, which so shortly before had been so populous; thrust -his loneliness more forcibly upon him. It did not take him long -to make up his mind. He plunged into the forest and followed the -river bank down the stream. All day he ran. He did not rest. -He seemed made to run on for ever. His iron-like body ignored -fatigue. And even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance -braced him to endless endeavour and enabled him to drive his complaining -body onward.

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Where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs, he climbed the -high mountains behind. Rivers and streams that entered the main -river he forded or swam. Often he took to the rim-ice that was -beginning to form, and more than once he crashed through and struggled -for life in the icy current. Always he was on the lookout for -the trail of the gods where it might leave the river and proceed inland.

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White Fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind; yet his -mental vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the Mackenzie. -What if the trail of the gods led out on that side? It never entered -his head. Later on, when he had travelled more and grown older -and wiser and come to know more of trails and rivers, it might be that -he could grasp and apprehend such a possibility. But that mental -power was yet in the future. Just now he ran blindly, his own -bank of the Mackenzie alone entering into his calculations.

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All night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and obstacles -that delayed but did not daunt. By the middle of the second day -he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and the iron of his -flesh was giving out. It was the endurance of his mind that kept -him going. He had not eaten in forty hours, and he was weak with -hunger. The repeated drenchings in the icy water had likewise -had their effect on him. His handsome coat was draggled. -The broad pads of his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had begun -to limp, and this limp increased with the hours. To make it worse, -the light of the sky was obscured and snow began to fall—a raw, -moist, melting, clinging snow, slippery under foot, that hid from him -the landscape he traversed, and that covered over the inequalities of -the ground so that the way of his feet was more difficult and painful.

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Grey Beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the -Mackenzie, for it was in that direction that the hunting lay. -But on the near bank, shortly before dark, a moose coming down to drink, -had been espied by Kloo-kooch, who was Grey Beaver’s squaw. -Now, had not the moose come down to drink, had not Mit-sah been steering -out of the course because of the snow, had not Kloo-kooch sighted the -moose, and had not Grey Beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his -rifle, all subsequent things would have happened differently. -Grey Beaver would not have camped on the near side of the Mackenzie, -and White Fang would have passed by and gone on, either to die or to -find his way to his wild brothers and become one of them—a wolf -to the end of his days.

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Night had fallen. The snow was flying more thickly, and White -Fang, whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along, -came upon a fresh trail in the snow. So fresh was it that he knew -it immediately for what it was. Whining with eagerness, he followed -back from the river bank and in among the trees. The camp-sounds -came to his ears. He saw the blaze of the fire, Kloo-kooch cooking, -and Grey Beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk of raw tallow. -There was fresh meat in camp!

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White Fang expected a beating. He crouched and bristled a little -at the thought of it. Then he went forward again. He feared -and disliked the beating he knew to be waiting for him. But he -knew, further, that the comfort of the fire would be his, the protection -of the gods, the companionship of the dogs—the last, a companionship -of enmity, but none the less a companionship and satisfying to his gregarious -needs.

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He came cringing and crawling into the firelight. Grey Beaver -saw him, and stopped munching the tallow. White Fang crawled slowly, -cringing and grovelling in the abjectness of his abasement and submission. -He crawled straight toward Grey Beaver, every inch of his progress becoming -slower and more painful. At last he lay at the master’s -feet, into whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, -body and soul. Of his own choice, he came in to sit by man’s -fire and to be ruled by him. White Fang trembled, waiting for -the punishment to fall upon him. There was a movement of the hand -above him. He cringed involuntarily under the expected blow. -It did not fall. He stole a glance upward. Grey Beaver was -breaking the lump of tallow in half! Grey Beaver was offering -him one piece of the tallow! Very gently and somewhat suspiciously, -he first smelled the tallow and then proceeded to eat it. Grey -Beaver ordered meat to be brought to him, and guarded him from the other -dogs while he ate. After that, grateful and content, White Fang -lay at Grey Beaver’s feet, gazing at the fire that warmed him, -blinking and dozing, secure in the knowledge that the morrow would find -him, not wandering forlorn through bleak forest-stretches, but in the -camp of the man-animals, with the gods to whom he had given himself -and upon whom he was now dependent.

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-Chapter VThe Covenant

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When December was well along, Grey Beaver went on a journey up the -Mackenzie. Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch went with him. One sled -he drove himself, drawn by dogs he had traded for or borrowed. -A second and smaller sled was driven by Mit-sah, and to this was harnessed -a team of puppies. It was more of a toy affair than anything else, -yet it was the delight of Mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to -do a man’s work in the world. Also, he was learning to drive -dogs and to train dogs; while the puppies themselves were being broken -in to the harness. Furthermore, the sled was of some service, -for it carried nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and food.

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White Fang had seen the camp-dogs toiling in the harness, so that -he did not resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon himself. -About his neck was put a moss-stuffed collar, which was connected by -two pulling-traces to a strap that passed around his chest and over -his back. It was to this that was fastened the long rope by which -he pulled at the sled.

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There were seven puppies in the team. The others had been born -earlier in the year and were nine and ten months old, while White Fang -was only eight months old. Each dog was fastened to the sled by -a single rope. No two ropes were of the same length, while the -difference in length between any two ropes was at least that of a dog’s -body. Every rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the -sled. The sled itself was without runners, being a birch-bark -toboggan, with upturned forward end to keep it from ploughing under -the snow. This construction enabled the weight of the sled and -load to be distributed over the largest snow-surface; for the snow was -crystal-powder and very soft. Observing the same principle of -widest distribution of weight, the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated -fan-fashion from the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in another’s -footsteps.

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There was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation. -The ropes of varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear -those that ran in front of them. For a dog to attack another, -it would have to turn upon one at a shorter rope. In which case -it would find itself face to face with the dog attacked, and also it -would find itself facing the whip of the driver. But the most -peculiar virtue of all lay in the fact that the dog that strove to attack -one in front of him must pull the sled faster, and that the faster the -sled travelled, the faster could the dog attacked run away. Thus, -the dog behind could never catch up with the one in front. The -faster he ran, the faster ran the one he was after, and the faster ran -all the dogs. Incidentally, the sled went faster, and thus, by -cunning indirection, did man increase his mastery over the beasts.

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Mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he possessed. -In the past he had observed Lip-lip’s persecution of White Fang; -but at that time Lip-lip was another man’s dog, and Mit-sah had -never dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him. But now -Lip-lip was his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance on him -by putting him at the end of the longest rope. This made Lip-lip -the leader, and was apparently an honour! but in reality it took away -from him all honour, and instead of being bully and master of the pack, -he now found himself hated and persecuted by the pack.

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Because he ran at the end of the longest rope, the dogs had always -the view of him running away before them. All that they saw of -him was his bushy tail and fleeing hind legs—a view far less ferocious -and intimidating than his bristling mane and gleaming fangs. Also, -dogs being so constituted in their mental ways, the sight of him running -away gave desire to run after him and a feeling that he ran away from -them.

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The moment the sled started, the team took after Lip-lip in a chase -that extended throughout the day. At first he had been prone to -turn upon his pursuers, jealous of his dignity and wrathful; but at -such times Mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot -cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run on. -Lip-lip might face the pack, but he could not face that whip, and all -that was left him to do was to keep his long rope taut and his flanks -ahead of the teeth of his mates.

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But a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the Indian -mind. To give point to unending pursuit of the leader, Mit-sah -favoured him over the other dogs. These favours aroused in them -jealousy and hatred. In their presence Mit-sah would give him -meat and would give it to him only. This was maddening to them. -They would rage around just outside the throwing-distance of the whip, -while Lip-lip devoured the meat and Mit-sah protected him. And -when there was no meat to give, Mit-sah would keep the team at a distance -and make believe to give meat to Lip-lip.

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White Fang took kindly to the work. He had travelled a greater -distance than the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule -of the gods, and he had learned more thoroughly the futility of opposing -their will. In addition, the persecution he had suffered from -the pack had made the pack less to him in the scheme of things, and -man more. He had not learned to be dependent on his kind for companionship. -Besides, Kiche was well-nigh forgotten; and the chief outlet of expression -that remained to him was in the allegiance he tendered the gods he had -accepted as masters. So he worked hard, learned discipline, and -was obedient. Faithfulness and willingness characterised his toil. -These are essential traits of the wolf and the wild-dog when they have -become domesticated, and these traits White Fang possessed in unusual -measure.

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A companionship did exist between White Fang and the other dogs, -but it was one of warfare and enmity. He had never learned to -play with them. He knew only how to fight, and fight with them -he did, returning to them a hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they -had given him in the days when Lip-lip was leader of the pack. -But Lip-lip was no longer leader—except when he fled away before -his mates at the end of his rope, the sled bounding along behind. -In camp he kept close to Mit-sah or Grey Beaver or Kloo-kooch. -He did not dare venture away from the gods, for now the fangs of all -dogs were against him, and he tasted to the dregs the persecution that -had been White Fang’s.

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With the overthrow of Lip-lip, White Fang could have become leader -of the pack. But he was too morose and solitary for that. -He merely thrashed his team-mates. Otherwise he ignored them. -They got out of his way when he came along; nor did the boldest of them -ever dare to rob him of his meat. On the contrary, they devoured -their own meat hurriedly, for fear that he would take it away from them. -White Fang knew the law well: to oppress the weak and obey the strong. -He ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could. And then woe -the dog that had not yet finished! A snarl and a flash of fangs, -and that dog would wail his indignation to the uncomforting stars while -White Fang finished his portion for him.

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Every little while, however, one dog or another would flame up in -revolt and be promptly subdued. Thus White Fang was kept in training. -He was jealous of the isolation in which he kept himself in the midst -of the pack, and he fought often to maintain it. But such fights -were of brief duration. He was too quick for the others. -They were slashed open and bleeding before they knew what had happened, -were whipped almost before they had begun to fight.

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As rigid as the sled-discipline of the gods, was the discipline maintained -by White Fang amongst his fellows. He never allowed them any latitude. -He compelled them to an unremitting respect for him. They might -do as they pleased amongst themselves. That was no concern of -his. But it was his concern that they leave him alone in -his isolation, get out of his way when he elected to walk among them, -and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them. A hint of -stiff-leggedness on their part, a lifted lip or a bristle of hair, and -he would be upon them, merciless and cruel, swiftly convincing them -of the error of their way.

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He was a monstrous tyrant. His mastery was rigid as steel. -He oppressed the weak with a vengeance. Not for nothing had he -been exposed to the pitiless struggles for life in the day of his cubhood, -when his mother and he, alone and unaided, held their own and survived -in the ferocious environment of the Wild. And not for nothing -had he learned to walk softly when superior strength went by. -He oppressed the weak, but he respected the strong. And in the -course of the long journey with Grey Beaver he walked softly indeed -amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals -they encountered.

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The months passed by. Still continued the journey of Grey Beaver. -White Fang’s strength was developed by the long hours on trail -and the steady toil at the sled; and it would have seemed that his mental -development was well-nigh complete. He had come to know quite -thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak -and materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal -world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection -and the bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist.

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He had no affection for Grey Beaver. True, he was a god, but -a most savage god. White Fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship, -but it was a lordship based upon superior intelligence and brute strength. -There was something in the fibre of White Fang’s being that made -his lordship a thing to be desired, else he would not have come back -from the Wild when he did to tender his allegiance. There were -deeps in his nature which had never been sounded. A kind word, -a caressing touch of the hand, on the part of Grey Beaver, might have -sounded these deeps; but Grey Beaver did not caress, nor speak kind -words. It was not his way. His primacy was savage, and savagely -he ruled, administering justice with a club, punishing transgression -with the pain of a blow, and rewarding merit, not by kindness, but by -withholding a blow.

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So White Fang knew nothing of the heaven a man’s hand might -contain for him. Besides, he did not like the hands of the man-animals. -He was suspicious of them. It was true that they sometimes gave -meat, but more often they gave hurt. Hands were things to keep -away from. They hurled stones, wielded sticks and clubs and whips, -administered slaps and clouts, and, when they touched him, were cunning -to hurt with pinch and twist and wrench. In strange villages he -had encountered the hands of the children and learned that they were -cruel to hurt. Also, he had once nearly had an eye poked out by -a toddling papoose. From these experiences he became suspicious -of all children. He could not tolerate them. When they came -near with their ominous hands, he got up.

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It was in a village at the Great Slave Lake, that, in the course -of resenting the evil of the hands of the man-animals, he came to modify -the law that he had learned from Grey Beaver: namely, that the unpardonable -crime was to bite one of the gods. In this village, after the -custom of all dogs in all villages, White Fang went foraging, for food. -A boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the chips were -flying in the snow. White Fang, sliding by in quest of meat, stopped -and began to eat the chips. He observed the boy lay down the axe -and take up a stout club. White Fang sprang clear, just in time -to escape the descending blow. The boy pursued him, and he, a -stranger in the village, fled between two tepees to find himself cornered -against a high earth bank.

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There was no escape for White Fang. The only way out was between -the two tepees, and this the boy guarded. Holding his club prepared -to strike, he drew in on his cornered quarry. White Fang was furious. -He faced the boy, bristling and snarling, his sense of justice outraged. -He knew the law of forage. All the wastage of meat, such as the -frozen chips, belonged to the dog that found it. He had done no -wrong, broken no law, yet here was this boy preparing to give him a -beating. White Fang scarcely knew what happened. He did -it in a surge of rage. And he did it so quickly that the boy did -not know either. All the boy knew was that he had in some unaccountable -way been overturned into the snow, and that his club-hand had been ripped -wide open by White Fang’s teeth.

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But White Fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods. -He had driven his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them, and could -expect nothing but a most terrible punishment. He fled away to -Grey Beaver, behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten -boy and the boy’s family came, demanding vengeance. But -they went away with vengeance unsatisfied. Grey Beaver defended -White Fang. So did Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch. White Fang, listening -to the wordy war and watching the angry gestures, knew that his act -was justified. And so it came that he learned there were gods -and gods. There were his gods, and there were other gods, and -between them there was a difference. Justice or injustice, it -was all the same, he must take all things from the hands of his own -gods. But he was not compelled to take injustice from the other -gods. It was his privilege to resent it with his teeth. -And this also was a law of the gods.

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Before the day was out, White Fang was to learn more about this law. -Mit-sah, alone, gathering firewood in the forest, encountered the boy -that had been bitten. With him were other boys. Hot words -passed. Then all the boys attacked Mit-sah. It was going -hard with him. Blows were raining upon him from all sides. -White Fang looked on at first. This was an affair of the gods, -and no concern of his. Then he realised that this was Mit-sah, -one of his own particular gods, who was being maltreated. It was -no reasoned impulse that made White Fang do what he then did. -A mad rush of anger sent him leaping in amongst the combatants. -Five minutes later the landscape was covered with fleeing boys, many -of whom dripped blood upon the snow in token that White Fang’s -teeth had not been idle. When Mit-sah told the story in camp, -Grey Beaver ordered meat to be given to White Fang. He ordered -much meat to be given, and White Fang, gorged and sleepy by the fire, -knew that the law had received its verification.

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It was in line with these experiences that White Fang came to learn -the law of property and the duty of the defence of property. From -the protection of his god’s body to the protection of his god’s -possessions was a step, and this step he made. What was his god’s -was to be defended against all the world—even to the extent of -biting other gods. Not only was such an act sacrilegious in its -nature, but it was fraught with peril. The gods were all-powerful, -and a dog was no match against them; yet White Fang learned to face -them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid. Duty rose above fear, -and thieving gods learned to leave Grey Beaver’s property alone.

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One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt, and that -was that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run -away at the sounding of the alarm. Also, he learned that but brief -time elapsed between his sounding of the alarm and Grey Beaver coming -to his aid. He came to know that it was not fear of him that drove -the thief away, but fear of Grey Beaver. White Fang did not give -the alarm by barking. He never barked. His method was to -drive straight at the intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he could. -Because he was morose and solitary, having nothing to do with the other -dogs, he was unusually fitted to guard his master’s property; -and in this he was encouraged and trained by Grey Beaver. One -result of this was to make White Fang more ferocious and indomitable, -and more solitary.

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The months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant between -dog and man. This was the ancient covenant that the first wolf -that came in from the Wild entered into with man. And, like all -succeeding wolves and wild dogs that had done likewise, White Fang worked -the covenant out for himself. The terms were simple. For -the possession of a flesh-and-blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. -Food and fire, protection and companionship, were some of the things -he received from the god. In return, he guarded the god’s -property, defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him.

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The possession of a god implies service. White Fang’s -was a service of duty and awe, but not of love. He did not know -what love was. He had no experience of love. Kiche was a -remote memory. Besides, not only had he abandoned the Wild and -his kind when he gave himself up to man, but the terms of the covenant -were such that if ever he met Kiche again he would not desert his god -to go with her. His allegiance to man seemed somehow a law of -his being greater than the love of liberty, of kind and kin.

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-Chapter VIThe Famine

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The spring of the year was at hand when Grey Beaver finished his -long journey. It was April, and White Fang was a year old when -he pulled into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by -Mit-sah. Though a long way from his full growth, White Fang, next -to Lip-lip, was the largest yearling in the village. Both from -his father, the wolf, and from Kiche, he had inherited stature and strength, -and already he was measuring up alongside the full-grown dogs. -But he had not yet grown compact. His body was slender and rangy, -and his strength more stringy than massive, His coat was the true wolf-grey, -and to all appearances he was true wolf himself. The quarter-strain -of dog he had inherited from Kiche had left no mark on him physically, -though it had played its part in his mental make-up.

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He wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfaction -the various gods he had known before the long journey. Then there -were the dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that -did not look so large and formidable as the memory pictures he retained -of them. Also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, stalking -among them with a certain careless ease that was as new to him as it -was enjoyable.

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There was Baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days -had but to uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching -to the right about. From him White Fang had learned much of his -own insignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change -and development that had taken place in himself. While Baseek -had been growing weaker with age, White Fang had been growing stronger -with youth.

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It was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that White Fang -learned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog-world. -He had got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which quite -a bit of meat was attached. Withdrawn from the immediate scramble -of the other dogs—in fact out of sight behind a thicket—he -was devouring his prize, when Baseek rushed in upon him. Before -he knew what he was doing, he had slashed the intruder twice and sprung -clear. Baseek was surprised by the other’s temerity and -swiftness of attack. He stood, gazing stupidly across at White -Fang, the raw, red shin-bone between them.

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Baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasing valour -of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. Bitter experiences -these, which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to -cope with them. In the old days he would have sprung upon White -Fang in a fury of righteous wrath. But now his waning powers would -not permit such a course. He bristled fiercely and looked ominously -across the shin-bone at White Fang. And White Fang, resurrecting -quite a deal of the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself -and grow small, as he cast about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat -not too inglorious.

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And right here Baseek erred. Had he contented himself with -looking fierce and ominous, all would have been well. White Fang, -on the verge of retreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. -But Baseek did not wait. He considered the victory already his -and stepped forward to the meat. As he bent his head carelessly -to smell it, White Fang bristled slightly. Even then it was not -too late for Baseek to retrieve the situation. Had he merely stood -over the meat, head up and glowering, White Fang would ultimately have -slunk away. But the fresh meat was strong in Baseek’s nostrils, -and greed urged him to take a bite of it.

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This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of -mastery over his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand -idly by while another devoured the meat that belonged to him. -He struck, after his custom, without warning. With the first slash, -Baseek’s right ear was ripped into ribbons. He was astounded -at the suddenness of it. But more things, and most grievous ones, -were happening with equal suddenness. He was knocked off his feet. -His throat was bitten. While he was struggling to his feet the -young dog sank teeth twice into his shoulder. The swiftness of -it was bewildering. He made a futile rush at White Fang, clipping -the empty air with an outraged snap. The next moment his nose -was laid open, and he was staggering backward away from the meat.

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The situation was now reversed. White Fang stood over the shin-bone, -bristling and menacing, while Baseek stood a little way off, preparing -to retreat. He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning-flash, -and again he knew, and more bitterly, the enfeeblement of oncoming age. -His attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic. Calmly turning -his back upon young dog and shin-bone, as though both were beneath his -notice and unworthy of his consideration, he stalked grandly away. -Nor, until well out of sight, did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds.

-

The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself, -and a greater pride. He walked less softly among the grown dogs; -his attitude toward them was less compromising. Not that he went -out of his way looking for trouble. Far from it. But upon -his way he demanded consideration. He stood upon his right to -go his way unmolested and to give trail to no dog. He had to be -taken into account, that was all. He was no longer to be disregarded -and ignored, as was the lot of puppies, and as continued to be the lot -of the puppies that were his team-mates. They got out of the way, -gave trail to the grown dogs, and gave up meat to them under compulsion. -But White Fang, uncompanionable, solitary, morose, scarcely looking -to right or left, redoubtable, forbidding of aspect, remote and alien, -was accepted as an equal by his puzzled elders. They quickly learned -to leave him alone, neither venturing hostile acts nor making overtures -of friendliness. If they left him alone, he left them alone—a -state of affairs that they found, after a few encounters, to be pre-eminently -desirable.

-

In midsummer White Fang had an experience. Trotting along in -his silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on -the edge of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose, -he came full upon Kiche. He paused and looked at her. He -remembered her vaguely, but he remembered her, and that was more -than could be said for her. She lifted her lip at him in the old -snarl of menace, and his memory became clear. His forgotten cubhood, -all that was associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. -Before he had known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of -the universe. The old familiar feelings of that time came back -upon him, surged up within him. He bounded towards her joyously, -and she met him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to the bone. -He did not understand. He backed away, bewildered and puzzled.

-

But it was not Kiche’s fault. A wolf-mother was not made -to remember her cubs of a year or so before. So she did not remember -White Fang. He was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present -litter of puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion.

-

One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang. They were half-brothers, -only they did not know it. White Fang sniffed the puppy curiously, -whereupon Kiche rushed upon him, gashing his face a second time. -He backed farther away. All the old memories and associations -died down again and passed into the grave from which they had been resurrected. -He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and stopping now and then to snarl -at him. She was without value to him. He had learned to -get along without her. Her meaning was forgotten. There -was no place for her in his scheme of things, as there was no place -for him in hers.

-

He was still standing, stupid and bewildered, the memories forgotten, -wondering what it was all about, when Kiche attacked him a third time, -intent on driving him away altogether from the vicinity. And White -Fang allowed himself to be driven away. This was a female of his -kind, and it was a law of his kind that the males must not fight the -females. He did not know anything about this law, for it was no -generalisation of the mind, not a something acquired by experience of -the world. He knew it as a secret prompting, as an urge of instinct—of -the same instinct that made him howl at the moon and stars of nights, -and that made him fear death and the unknown.

-

The months went by. White Fang grew stronger, heavier, and -more compact, while his character was developing along the lines laid -down by his heredity and his environment. His heredity was a life-stuff -that may be likened to clay. It possessed many possibilities, -was capable of being moulded into many different forms. Environment -served to model the clay, to give it a particular form. Thus, -had White Fang never come in to the fires of man, the Wild would have -moulded him into a true wolf. But the gods had given him a different -environment, and he was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish, -but that was a dog and not a wolf.

-

And so, according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his -surroundings, his character was being moulded into a certain particular -shape. There was no escaping it. He was becoming more morose, -more uncompanionable, more solitary, more ferocious; while the dogs -were learning more and more that it was better to be at peace with him -than at war, and Grey Beaver was coming to prize him more greatly with -the passage of each day.

-

White Fang, seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities, nevertheless -suffered from one besetting weakness. He could not stand being -laughed at. The laughter of men was a hateful thing. They -might laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except himself, -and he did not mind. But the moment laughter was turned upon him -he would fly into a most terrible rage. Grave, dignified, sombre, -a laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness. It so outraged him -and upset him that for hours he would behave like a demon. And -woe to the dog that at such times ran foul of him. He knew the -law too well to take it out of Grey Beaver; behind Grey Beaver were -a club and godhead. But behind the dogs there was nothing but -space, and into this space they flew when White Fang came on the scene, -made mad by laughter.

-

In the third year of his life there came a great famine to the Mackenzie -Indians. In the summer the fish failed. In the winter the -cariboo forsook their accustomed track. Moose were scarce, the -rabbits almost disappeared, hunting and preying animals perished. -Denied their usual food-supply, weakened by hunger, they fell upon and -devoured one another. Only the strong survived. White Fang’s -gods were always hunting animals. The old and the weak of them -died of hunger. There was wailing in the village, where the women -and children went without in order that what little they had might go -into the bellies of the lean and hollow-eyed hunters who trod the forest -in the vain pursuit of meat.

-

To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft-tanned -leather of their mocassins and mittens, while the dogs ate the harnesses -off their backs and the very whip-lashes. Also, the dogs ate one -another, and also the gods ate the dogs. The weakest and the more -worthless were eaten first. The dogs that still lived, looked -on and understood. A few of the boldest and wisest forsook the -fires of the gods, which had now become a shambles, and fled into the -forest, where, in the end, they starved to death or were eaten by wolves.

-

In this time of misery, White Fang, too, stole away into the woods. -He was better fitted for the life than the other dogs, for he had the -training of his cubhood to guide him. Especially adept did he -become in stalking small living things. He would lie concealed -for hours, following every movement of a cautious tree-squirrel, waiting, -with a patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from, until the squirrel -ventured out upon the ground. Even then, White Fang was not premature. -He waited until he was sure of striking before the squirrel could gain -a tree-refuge. Then, and not until then, would he flash from his -hiding-place, a grey projectile, incredibly swift, never failing its -mark—the fleeing squirrel that fled not fast enough.

-

Successful as he was with squirrels, there was one difficulty that -prevented him from living and growing fat on them. There were -not enough squirrels. So he was driven to hunt still smaller things. -So acute did his hunger become at times that he was not above rooting -out wood-mice from their burrows in the ground. Nor did he scorn -to do battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times more -ferocious.

-

In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of -the gods. But he did not go into the fires. He lurked in -the forest, avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals -when game was caught. He even robbed Grey Beaver’s snare -of a rabbit at a time when Grey Beaver staggered and tottered through -the forest, sitting down often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness -of breath.

-

One day While Fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, loose-jointed -with famine. Had he not been hungry himself, White Fang might -have gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack amongst -his wild brethren. As it was, he ran the young wolf down and killed -and ate him.

-

Fortune seemed to favour him. Always, when hardest pressed -for food, he found something to kill. Again, when he was weak, -it was his luck that none of the larger preying animals chanced upon -him. Thus, he was strong from the two days’ eating a lynx -had afforded him when the hungry wolf-pack ran full tilt upon him. -It was a long, cruel chase, but he was better nourished than they, and -in the end outran them. And not only did he outrun them, but, -circling widely back on his track, he gathered in one of his exhausted -pursuers.

-

After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to -the valley wherein he had been born. Here, in the old lair, he -encountered Kiche. Up to her old tricks, she, too, had fled the -inhospitable fires of the gods and gone back to her old refuge to give -birth to her young. Of this litter but one remained alive when -White Fang came upon the scene, and this one was not destined to live -long. Young life had little chance in such a famine.

-

Kiche’s greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate. -But White Fang did not mind. He had outgrown his mother. -So he turned tail philosophically and trotted on up the stream. -At the forks he took the turning to the left, where he found the lair -of the lynx with whom his mother and he had fought long before. -Here, in the abandoned lair, he settled down and rested for a day.

-

During the early summer, in the last days of the famine, he met Lip-lip, -who had likewise taken to the woods, where he had eked out a miserable -existence.

-

White Fang came upon him unexpectedly. Trotting in opposite -directions along the base of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of -rock and found themselves face to face. They paused with instant -alarm, and looked at each other suspiciously.

-

White Fang was in splendid condition. His hunting had been -good, and for a week he had eaten his fill. He was even gorged -from his latest kill. But in the moment he looked at Lip-lip his -hair rose on end all along his back. It was an involuntary bristling -on his part, the physical state that in the past had always accompanied -the mental state produced in him by Lip-lip’s bullying and persecution. -As in the past he had bristled and snarled at sight of Lip-lip, so now, -and automatically, he bristled and snarled. He did not waste any -time. The thing was done thoroughly and with despatch. Lip-lip -essayed to back away, but White Fang struck him hard, shoulder to shoulder. -Lip-lip was overthrown and rolled upon his back. White Fang’s -teeth drove into the scrawny throat. There was a death-struggle, -during which White Fang walked around, stiff-legged and observant. -Then he resumed his course and trotted on along the base of the bluff.

-

One day, not long after, he came to the edge of the forest, where -a narrow stretch of open land sloped down to the Mackenzie. He -had been over this ground before, when it was bare, but now a village -occupied it. Still hidden amongst the trees, he paused to study -the situation. Sights and sounds and scents were familiar to him. -It was the old village changed to a new place. But sights and -sounds and smells were different from those he had last had when he -fled away from it. There was no whimpering nor wailing. -Contented sounds saluted his ear, and when he heard the angry voice -of a woman he knew it to be the anger that proceeds from a full stomach. -And there was a smell in the air of fish. There was food. -The famine was gone. He came out boldly from the forest and trotted -into camp straight to Grey Beaver’s tepee. Grey Beaver was -not there; but Kloo-kooch welcomed him with glad cries and the whole -of a fresh-caught fish, and he lay down to wait Grey Beaver’s -coming.

-
-
-
-

Part IV

-
-

-Chapter IThe Enemy of His Kind

-

Had there been in White Fang’s nature any possibility, no matter -how remote, of his ever coming to fraternise with his kind, such possibility -was irretrievably destroyed when he was made leader of the sled-team. -For now the dogs hated him—hated him for the extra meat bestowed -upon him by Mit-sah; hated him for all the real and fancied favours -he received; hated him for that he fled always at the head of the team, -his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually retreating hind-quarters -for ever maddening their eyes.

-

And White Fang just as bitterly hated them back. Being sled-leader -was anything but gratifying to him. To be compelled to run away -before the yelling pack, every dog of which, for three years, he had -thrashed and mastered, was almost more than he could endure. But -endure it he must, or perish, and the life that was in him had no desire -to perish out. The moment Mit-sah gave his order for the start, -that moment the whole team, with eager, savage cries, sprang forward -at White Fang.

-

There was no defence for him. If he turned upon them, Mit-sah -would throw the stinging lash of the whip into his face. Only -remained to him to run away. He could not encounter that howling -horde with his tail and hind-quarters. These were scarcely fit -weapons with which to meet the many merciless fangs. So run away -he did, violating his own nature and pride with every leap he made, -and leaping all day long.

-

One cannot violate the promptings of one’s nature without having -that nature recoil upon itself. Such a recoil is like that of -a hair, made to grow out from the body, turning unnaturally upon the -direction of its growth and growing into the body—a rankling, -festering thing of hurt. And so with White Fang. Every urge -of his being impelled him to spring upon the pack that cried at his -heels, but it was the will of the gods that this should not be; and -behind the will, to enforce it, was the whip of cariboo-gut with its -biting thirty-foot lash. So White Fang could only eat his heart -in bitterness and develop a hatred and malice commensurate with the -ferocity and indomitability of his nature.

-

If ever a creature was the enemy of its kind, White Fang was that -creature. He asked no quarter, gave none. He was continually -marred and scarred by the teeth of the pack, and as continually he left -his own marks upon the pack. Unlike most leaders, who, when camp -was made and the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to the gods for protection, -White Fang disdained such protection. He walked boldly about the -camp, inflicting punishment in the night for what he had suffered in -the day. In the time before he was made leader of the team, the -pack had learned to get out of his way. But now it was different. -Excited by the day-long pursuit of him, swayed subconsciously by the -insistent iteration on their brains of the sight of him fleeing away, -mastered by the feeling of mastery enjoyed all day, the dogs could not -bring themselves to give way to him. When he appeared amongst -them, there was always a squabble. His progress was marked by -snarl and snap and growl. The very atmosphere he breathed was -surcharged with hatred and malice, and this but served to increase the -hatred and malice within him.

-

When Mit-sah cried out his command for the team to stop, White Fang -obeyed. At first this caused trouble for the other dogs. -All of them would spring upon the hated leader only to find the tables -turned. Behind him would be Mit-sah, the great whip singing in -his hand. So the dogs came to understand that when the team stopped -by order, White Fang was to be let alone. But when White Fang -stopped without orders, then it was allowed them to spring upon him -and destroy him if they could. After several experiences, White -Fang never stopped without orders. He learned quickly. It -was in the nature of things, that he must learn quickly if he were to -survive the unusually severe conditions under which life was vouchsafed -him.

-

But the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in camp. -Each day, pursuing him and crying defiance at him, the lesson of the -previous night was erased, and that night would have to be learned over -again, to be as immediately forgotten. Besides, there was a greater -consistence in their dislike of him. They sensed between themselves -and him a difference of kind—cause sufficient in itself for hostility. -Like him, they were domesticated wolves. But they had been domesticated -for generations. Much of the Wild had been lost, so that to them -the Wild was the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing and ever warring. -But to him, in appearance and action and impulse, still clung the Wild. -He symbolised it, was its personification: so that when they showed -their teeth to him they were defending themselves against the powers -of destruction that lurked in the shadows of the forest and in the dark -beyond the camp-fire.

-

But there was one lesson the dogs did learn, and that was to keep -together. White Fang was too terrible for any of them to face -single-handed. They met him with the mass-formation, otherwise -he would have killed them, one by one, in a night. As it was, -he never had a chance to kill them. He might roll a dog off its -feet, but the pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver -the deadly throat-stroke. At the first hint of conflict, the whole -team drew together and faced him. The dogs had quarrels among -themselves, but these were forgotten when trouble was brewing with White -Fang.

-

On the other hand, try as they would, they could not kill White Fang. -He was too quick for them, too formidable, too wise. He avoided -tight places and always backed out of it when they bade fair to surround -him. While, as for getting him off his feet, there was no dog -among them capable of doing the trick. His feet clung to the earth -with the same tenacity that he clung to life. For that matter, -life and footing were synonymous in this unending warfare with the pack, -and none knew it better than White Fang.

-

So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they -were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow -of man’s strength. White Fang was bitter and implacable. -The clay of him was so moulded. He declared a vendetta against -all dogs. And so terribly did he live this vendetta that Grey -Beaver, fierce savage himself, could not but marvel at White Fang’s -ferocity. Never, he swore, had there been the like of this animal; -and the Indians in strange villages swore likewise when they considered -the tale of his killings amongst their dogs.

-

When White Fang was nearly five years old, Grey Beaver took him on -another great journey, and long remembered was the havoc he worked amongst -the dogs of the many villages along the Mackenzie, across the Rockies, -and down the Porcupine to the Yukon. He revelled in the vengeance -he wreaked upon his kind. They were ordinary, unsuspecting dogs. -They were not prepared for his swiftness and directness, for his attack -without warning. They did not know him for what he was, a lightning-flash -of slaughter. They bristled up to him, stiff-legged and challenging, -while he, wasting no time on elaborate preliminaries, snapping into -action like a steel spring, was at their throats and destroying them -before they knew what was happening and while they were yet in the throes -of surprise.

-

He became an adept at fighting. He economised. He never -wasted his strength, never tussled. He was in too quickly for -that, and, if he missed, was out again too quickly. The dislike -of the wolf for close quarters was his to an unusual degree. He -could not endure a prolonged contact with another body. It smacked -of danger. It made him frantic. He must be away, free, on -his own legs, touching no living thing. It was the Wild still -clinging to him, asserting itself through him. This feeling had -been accentuated by the Ishmaelite life he had led from his puppyhood. -Danger lurked in contacts. It was the trap, ever the trap, the -fear of it lurking deep in the life of him, woven into the fibre of -him.

-

In consequence, the strange dogs he encountered had no chance against -him. He eluded their fangs. He got them, or got away, himself -untouched in either event. In the natural course of things there -were exceptions to this. There were times when several dogs, pitching -on to him, punished him before he could get away; and there were times -when a single dog scored deeply on him. But these were accidents. -In the main, so efficient a fighter had he become, he went his way unscathed.

-

Another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time -and distance. Not that he did this consciously, however. -He did not calculate such things. It was all automatic. -His eyes saw correctly, and the nerves carried the vision correctly -to his brain. The parts of him were better adjusted than those -of the average dog. They worked together more smoothly and steadily. -His was a better, far better, nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordination. -When his eyes conveyed to his brain the moving image of an action, his -brain without conscious effort, knew the space that limited that action -and the time required for its completion. Thus, he could avoid -the leap of another dog, or the drive of its fangs, and at the same -moment could seize the infinitesimal fraction of time in which to deliver -his own attack. Body and brain, his was a more perfected mechanism. -Not that he was to be praised for it. Nature had been more generous -to him than to the average animal, that was all.

-

It was in the summer that White Fang arrived at Fort Yukon. -Grey Beaver had crossed the great watershed between Mackenzie and the -Yukon in the late winter, and spent the spring in hunting among the -western outlying spurs of the Rockies. Then, after the break-up -of the ice on the Porcupine, he had built a canoe and paddled down that -stream to where it effected its junction with the Yukon just under the -Artic circle. Here stood the old Hudson’s Bay Company fort; -and here were many Indians, much food, and unprecedented excitement. -It was the summer of 1898, and thousands of gold-hunters were going -up the Yukon to Dawson and the Klondike. Still hundreds of miles -from their goal, nevertheless many of them had been on the way for a -year, and the least any of them had travelled to get that far was five -thousand miles, while some had come from the other side of the world.

-

Here Grey Beaver stopped. A whisper of the gold-rush had reached -his ears, and he had come with several bales of furs, and another of -gut-sewn mittens and moccasins. He would not have ventured so -long a trip had he not expected generous profits. But what he -had expected was nothing to what he realised. His wildest dreams -had not exceeded a hundred per cent. profit; he made a thousand per -cent. And like a true Indian, he settled down to trade carefully -and slowly, even if it took all summer and the rest of the winter to -dispose of his goods.

-

It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw his first white men. -As compared with the Indians he had known, they were to him another -race of beings, a race of superior gods. They impressed him as -possessing superior power, and it is on power that godhead rests. -White Fang did not reason it out, did not in his mind make the sharp -generalisation that the white gods were more powerful. It was -a feeling, nothing more, and yet none the less potent. As, in -his puppyhood, the looming bulks of the tepees, man-reared, had affected -him as manifestations of power, so was he affected now by the houses -and the huge fort all of massive logs. Here was power. Those -white gods were strong. They possessed greater mastery over matter -than the gods he had known, most powerful among which was Grey Beaver. -And yet Grey Beaver was as a child-god among these white-skinned ones.

-

To be sure, White Fang only felt these things. He was not conscious -of them. Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that -animals act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon the -feeling that the white men were the superior gods. In the first -place he was very suspicious of them. There was no telling what -unknown terrors were theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer. -He was curious to observe them, fearful of being noticed by them. -For the first few hours he was content with slinking around and watching -them from a safe distance. Then he saw that no harm befell the -dogs that were near to them, and he came in closer.

-

In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. His wolfish -appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one -another. This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and -when they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. -Not one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they -did not.

-

White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods—not more -than a dozen—lived at this place. Every two or three days -a steamer (another and colossal manifestation of power) came into the -bank and stopped for several hours. The white men came from off -these steamers and went away on them again. There seemed untold -numbers of these white men. In the first day or so, he saw more -of them than he had seen Indians in all his life; and as the days went -by they continued to come up the river, stop, and then go on up the -river out of sight.

-

But if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount -to much. This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those -that came ashore with their masters. They were irregular shapes -and sizes. Some were short-legged—too short; others were -long-legged—too long. They had hair instead of fur, and -a few had very little hair at that. And none of them knew how -to fight.

-

As an enemy of his kind, it was in White Fang’s province to -fight with them. This he did, and he quickly achieved for them -a mighty contempt. They were soft and helpless, made much noise, -and floundered around clumsily trying to accomplish by main strength -what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning. They rushed bellowing -at him. He sprang to the side. They did not know what had -become of him; and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder, rolling -them off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat.

-

Sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in -the dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of Indian -dogs that waited. White Fang was wise. He had long since -learned that the gods were made angry when their dogs were killed. -The white men were no exception to this. So he was content, when -he had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, -to drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work. -It was then that the white men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily -on the pack, while White Fang went free. He would stand off at -a little distance and look on, while stones, clubs, axes, and all sorts -of weapons fell upon his fellows. White Fang was very wise.

-

But his fellows grew wise in their own way; and in this White Fang -grew wise with them. They learned that it was when a steamer first -tied to the bank that they had their fun. After the first two -or three strange dogs had been downed and destroyed, the white men hustled -their own animals back on board and wrecked savage vengeance on the -offenders. One white man, having seen his dog, a setter, torn -to pieces before his eyes, drew a revolver. He fired rapidly, -six times, and six of the pack lay dead or dying—another manifestation -of power that sank deep into White Fang’s consciousness.

-

White Fang enjoyed it all. He did not love his kind, and he -was shrewd enough to escape hurt himself. At first, the killing -of the white men’s dogs had been a diversion. After a time -it became his occupation. There was no work for him to do. -Grey Beaver was busy trading and getting wealthy. So White Fang -hung around the landing with the disreputable gang of Indian dogs, waiting -for steamers. With the arrival of a steamer the fun began. -After a few minutes, by the time the white men had got over their surprise, -the gang scattered. The fun was over until the next steamer should -arrive.

-

But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the gang. -He did not mingle with it, but remained aloof, always himself, and was -even feared by it. It is true, he worked with it. He picked -the quarrel with the strange dog while the gang waited. And when -he had overthrown the strange dog the gang went in to finish it. -But it is equally true that he then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive -the punishment of the outraged gods.

-

It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels. All -he had to do, when the strange dogs came ashore, was to show himself. -When they saw him they rushed for him. It was their instinct. -He was the Wild—the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing, -the thing that prowled in the darkness around the fires of the primeval -world when they, cowering close to the fires, were reshaping their instincts, -learning to fear the Wild out of which they had come, and which they -had deserted and betrayed. Generation by generation, down all -the generations, had this fear of the Wild been stamped into their natures. -For centuries the Wild had stood for terror and destruction. And -during all this time free licence had been theirs, from their masters, -to kill the things of the Wild. In doing this they had protected -both themselves and the gods whose companionship they shared.

-

And so, fresh from the soft southern world, these dogs, trotting -down the gang-plank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see White -Fang to experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy -him. They might be town-reared dogs, but the instinctive fear -of the Wild was theirs just the same. Not alone with their own -eyes did they see the wolfish creature in the clear light of day, standing -before them. They saw him with the eyes of their ancestors, and -by their inherited memory they knew White Fang for the wolf, and they -remembered the ancient feud.

-

All of which served to make White Fang’s days enjoyable. -If the sight of him drove these strange dogs upon him, so much the better -for him, so much the worse for them. They looked upon him as legitimate -prey, and as legitimate prey he looked upon them.

-

Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair -and fought his first fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel, and the -lynx. And not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by -the persecution of Lip-lip and the whole puppy pack. It might -have been otherwise, and he would then have been otherwise. Had -Lip-lip not existed, he would have passed his puppyhood with the other -puppies and grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs. -Had Grey Beaver possessed the plummet of affection and love, he might -have sounded the deeps of White Fang’s nature and brought up to -the surface all manner of kindly qualities. But these things had -not been so. The clay of White Fang had been moulded until he -became what he was, morose and lonely, unloving and ferocious, the enemy -of all his kind.

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-Chapter IIThe Mad God

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A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon. These men -had been long in the country. They called themselves Sour-doughs, -and took great pride in so classifying themselves. For other men, -new in the land, they felt nothing but disdain. The men who came -ashore from the steamers were newcomers. They were known as chechaquos, -and they always wilted at the application of the name. They made -their bread with baking-powder. This was the invidious distinction -between them and the Sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made their bread from -sour-dough because they had no baking-powder.

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All of which is neither here nor there. The men in the fort -disdained the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief. -Especially did they enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers’ -dogs by White Fang and his disreputable gang. When a steamer arrived, -the men of the fort made it a point always to come down to the bank -and see the fun. They looked forward to it with as much anticipation -as did the Indian dogs, while they were not slow to appreciate the savage -and crafty part played by White Fang.

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But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the sport. -He would come running at the first sound of a steamboat’s whistle; -and when the last fight was over and White Fang and the pack had scattered, -he would return slowly to the fort, his face heavy with regret. -Sometimes, when a soft southland dog went down, shrieking its death-cry -under the fangs of the pack, this man would be unable to contain himself, -and would leap into the air and cry out with delight. And always -he had a sharp and covetous eye for White Fang.

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This man was called “Beauty” by the other men of the -fort. No one knew his first name, and in general he was known -in the country as Beauty Smith. But he was anything save a beauty. -To antithesis was due his naming. He was pre-eminently unbeautiful. -Nature had been niggardly with him. He was a small man to begin -with; and upon his meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly -meagre head. Its apex might be likened to a point. In fact, -in his boyhood, before he had been named Beauty by his fellows, he had -been called “Pinhead.”

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Backward, from the apex, his head slanted down to his neck and forward -it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide forehead. -Beginning here, as though regretting her parsimony, Nature had spread -his features with a lavish hand. His eyes were large, and between -them was the distance of two eyes. His face, in relation to the -rest of him, was prodigious. In order to discover the necessary -area, Nature had given him an enormous prognathous jaw. It was -wide and heavy, and protruded outward and down until it seemed to rest -on his chest. Possibly this appearance was due to the weariness -of the slender neck, unable properly to support so great a burden.

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This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination. But -something lacked. Perhaps it was from excess. Perhaps the -jaw was too large. At any rate, it was a lie. Beauty Smith -was known far and wide as the weakest of weak-kneed and snivelling cowards. -To complete his description, his teeth were large and yellow, while -the two eye-teeth, larger than their fellows, showed under his lean -lips like fangs. His eyes were yellow and muddy, as though Nature -had run short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her -tubes. It was the same with his hair, sparse and irregular of -growth, muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting -out of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches, in appearance like -clumped and wind-blown grain.

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In short, Beauty Smith was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay -elsewhere. He was not responsible. The clay of him had been -so moulded in the making. He did the cooking for the other men -in the fort, the dish-washing and the drudgery. They did not despise -him. Rather did they tolerate him in a broad human way, as one -tolerates any creature evilly treated in the making. Also, they -feared him. His cowardly rages made them dread a shot in the back -or poison in their coffee. But somebody had to do the cooking, -and whatever else his shortcomings, Beauty Smith could cook.

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This was the man that looked at White Fang, delighted in his ferocious -prowess, and desired to possess him. He made overtures to White -Fang from the first. White Fang began by ignoring him. Later -on, when the overtures became more insistent, White Fang bristled and -bared his teeth and backed away. He did not like the man. -The feel of him was bad. He sensed the evil in him, and feared -the extended hand and the attempts at soft-spoken speech. Because -of all this, he hated the man.

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With the simpler creatures, good and bad are things simply understood. -The good stands for all things that bring easement and satisfaction -and surcease from pain. Therefore, the good is liked. The -bad stands for all things that are fraught with discomfort, menace, -and hurt, and is hated accordingly. White Fang’s feel of -Beauty Smith was bad. From the man’s distorted body and -twisted mind, in occult ways, like mists rising from malarial marshes, -came emanations of the unhealth within. Not by reasoning, not -by the five senses alone, but by other and remoter and uncharted senses, -came the feeling to White Fang that the man was ominous with evil, pregnant -with hurtfulness, and therefore a thing bad, and wisely to be hated.

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White Fang was in Grey Beaver’s camp when Beauty Smith first -visited it. At the faint sound of his distant feet, before he -came in sight, White Fang knew who was coming and began to bristle. -He had been lying down in an abandon of comfort, but he arose quickly, -and, as the man arrived, slid away in true wolf-fashion to the edge -of the camp. He did not know what they said, but he could see -the man and Grey Beaver talking together. Once, the man pointed -at him, and White Fang snarled back as though the hand were just descending -upon him instead of being, as it was, fifty feet away. The man -laughed at this; and White Fang slunk away to the sheltering woods, -his head turned to observe as he glided softly over the ground.

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Grey Beaver refused to sell the dog. He had grown rich with -his trading and stood in need of nothing. Besides, White Fang -was a valuable animal, the strongest sled-dog he had ever owned, and -the best leader. Furthermore, there was no dog like him on the -Mackenzie nor the Yukon. He could fight. He killed other -dogs as easily as men killed mosquitoes. (Beauty Smith’s -eyes lighted up at this, and he licked his thin lips with an eager tongue). -No, White Fang was not for sale at any price.

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But Beauty Smith knew the ways of Indians. He visited Grey -Beaver’s camp often, and hidden under his coat was always a black -bottle or so. One of the potencies of whisky is the breeding of -thirst. Grey Beaver got the thirst. His fevered membranes -and burnt stomach began to clamour for more and more of the scorching -fluid; while his brain, thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant, permitted -him to go any length to obtain it. The money he had received for -his furs and mittens and moccasins began to go. It went faster -and faster, and the shorter his money-sack grew, the shorter grew his -temper.

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In the end his money and goods and temper were all gone. Nothing -remained to him but his thirst, a prodigious possession in itself that -grew more prodigious with every sober breath he drew. Then it -was that Beauty Smith had talk with him again about the sale of White -Fang; but this time the price offered was in bottles, not dollars, and -Grey Beaver’s ears were more eager to hear.

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“You ketch um dog you take um all right,” was his last -word.

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The bottles were delivered, but after two days. “You -ketch um dog,” were Beauty Smith’s words to Grey Beaver.

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White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh -of content. The dreaded white god was not there. For days -his manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing more -insistent, and during that time White Fang had been compelled to avoid -the camp. He did not know what evil was threatened by those insistent -hands. He knew only that they did threaten evil of some sort, -and that it was best for him to keep out of their reach.

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But scarcely had he lain down when Grey Beaver staggered over to -him and tied a leather thong around his neck. He sat down beside -White Fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. In the other -hand he held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted above -his head to the accompaniment of gurgling noises.

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An hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with -the ground foreran the one who approached. White Fang heard it -first, and he was bristling with recognition while Grey Beaver still -nodded stupidly. White Fang tried to draw the thong softly out -of his master’s hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and -Grey Beaver roused himself.

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Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang. He -snarled softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the deportment -of the hands. One hand extended outward and began to descend upon -his head. His soft snarl grew tense and harsh. The hand -continued slowly to descend, while he crouched beneath it, eyeing it -malignantly, his snarl growing shorter and shorter as, with quickening -breath, it approached its culmination. Suddenly he snapped, striking -with his fangs like a snake. The hand was jerked back, and the -teeth came together emptily with a sharp click. Beauty Smith was -frightened and angry. Grey Beaver clouted White Fang alongside -the head, so that he cowered down close to the earth in respectful obedience.

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White Fang’s suspicious eyes followed every movement. -He saw Beauty Smith go away and return with a stout club. Then -the end of the thong was given over to him by Grey Beaver. Beauty -Smith started to walk away. The thong grew taut. White Fang -resisted it. Grey Beaver clouted him right and left to make him -get up and follow. He obeyed, but with a rush, hurling himself -upon the stranger who was dragging him away. Beauty Smith did -not jump away. He had been waiting for this. He swung the -club smartly, stopping the rush midway and smashing White Fang down -upon the ground. Grey Beaver laughed and nodded approval. -Beauty Smith tightened the thong again, and White Fang crawled limply -and dizzily to his feet.

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He did not rush a second time. One smash from the club was -sufficient to convince him that the white god knew how to handle it, -and he was too wise to fight the inevitable. So he followed morosely -at Beauty Smith’s heels, his tail between his legs, yet snarling -softly under his breath. But Beauty Smith kept a wary eye on him, -and the club was held always ready to strike.

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At the fort Beauty Smith left him securely tied and went in to bed. -White Fang waited an hour. Then he applied his teeth to the thong, -and in the space of ten seconds was free. He had wasted no time -with his teeth. There had been no useless gnawing. The thong -was cut across, diagonally, almost as clean as though done by a knife. -White Fang looked up at the fort, at the same time bristling and growling. -Then he turned and trotted back to Grey Beaver’s camp. He -owed no allegiance to this strange and terrible god. He had given -himself to Grey Beaver, and to Grey Beaver he considered he still belonged.

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But what had occurred before was repeated—with a difference. -Grey Beaver again made him fast with a thong, and in the morning turned -him over to Beauty Smith. And here was where the difference came -in. Beauty Smith gave him a beating. Tied securely, White -Fang could only rage futilely and endure the punishment. Club -and whip were both used upon him, and he experienced the worst beating -he had ever received in his life. Even the big beating given him -in his puppyhood by Grey Beaver was mild compared with this.

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Beauty Smith enjoyed the task. He delighted in it. He -gloated over his victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung the -whip or club and listened to White Fang’s cries of pain and to -his helpless bellows and snarls. For Beauty Smith was cruel in -the way that cowards are cruel. Cringing and snivelling himself -before the blows or angry speech of a man, he revenged himself, in turn, -upon creatures weaker than he. All life likes power, and Beauty -Smith was no exception. Denied the expression of power amongst -his own kind, he fell back upon the lesser creatures and there vindicated -the life that was in him. But Beauty Smith had not created himself, -and no blame was to be attached to him. He had come into the world -with a twisted body and a brute intelligence. This had constituted -the clay of him, and it had not been kindly moulded by the world.

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White Fang knew why he was being beaten. When Grey Beaver tied -the thong around his neck, and passed the end of the thong into Beauty -Smith’s keeping, White Fang knew that it was his god’s will -for him to go with Beauty Smith. And when Beauty Smith left him -tied outside the fort, he knew that it was Beauty Smith’s will -that he should remain there. Therefore, he had disobeyed the will -of both the gods, and earned the consequent punishment. He had -seen dogs change owners in the past, and he had seen the runaways beaten -as he was being beaten. He was wise, and yet in the nature of -him there were forces greater than wisdom. One of these was fidelity. -He did not love Grey Beaver, yet, even in the face of his will and his -anger, he was faithful to him. He could not help it. This -faithfulness was a quality of the clay that composed him. It was -the quality that was peculiarly the possession of his kind; the quality -that set apart his species from all other species; the quality that -has enabled the wolf and the wild dog to come in from the open and be -the companions of man.

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After the beating, White Fang was dragged back to the fort. -But this time Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick. One does -not give up a god easily, and so with White Fang. Grey Beaver -was his own particular god, and, in spite of Grey Beaver’s will, -White Fang still clung to him and would not give him up. Grey -Beaver had betrayed and forsaken him, but that had no effect upon him. -Not for nothing had he surrendered himself body and soul to Grey Beaver. -There had been no reservation on White Fang’s part, and the bond -was not to be broken easily.

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So, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, White Fang -applied his teeth to the stick that held him. The wood was seasoned -and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely -get his teeth to it. It was only by the severest muscular exertion -and neck-arching that he succeeded in getting the wood between his teeth, -and barely between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise -of an immense patience, extending through many hours, that he succeeded -in gnawing through the stick. This was something that dogs were -not supposed to do. It was unprecedented. But White Fang -did it, trotting away from the fort in the early morning, with the end -of the stick hanging to his neck.

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He was wise. But had he been merely wise he would not have -gone back to Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him. But -there was his faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third -time. Again he yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck -by Grey Beaver, and again Beauty Smith came to claim him. And -this time he was beaten even more severely than before.

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Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. -He gave no protection. It was no longer his dog. When the -beating was over White Fang was sick. A soft southland dog would -have died under it, but not he. His school of life had been sterner, -and he was himself of sterner stuff. He had too great vitality. -His clutch on life was too strong. But he was very sick. -At first he was unable to drag himself along, and Beauty Smith had to -wait half-an-hour for him. And then, blind and reeling, he followed -at Beauty Smith’s heels back to the fort.

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But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth, and he strove -in vain, by lunging, to draw the staple from the timber into which it -was driven. After a few days, sober and bankrupt, Grey Beaver -departed up the Porcupine on his long journey to the Mackenzie. -White Fang remained on the Yukon, the property of a man more than half -mad and all brute. But what is a dog to know in its consciousness -of madness? To White Fang, Beauty Smith was a veritable, if terrible, -god. He was a mad god at best, but White Fang knew nothing of -madness; he knew only that he must submit to the will of this new master, -obey his every whim and fancy.

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-Chapter IIIThe Reign of Hate

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Under the tutelage of the mad god, White Fang became a fiend. -He was kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and here Beauty -Smith teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments. -The man early discovered White Fang’s susceptibility to laughter, -and made it a point after painfully tricking him, to laugh at him. -This laughter was uproarious and scornful, and at the same time the -god pointed his finger derisively at White Fang. At such times -reason fled from White Fang, and in his transports of rage he was even -more mad than Beauty Smith.

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Formerly, White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind, withal -a ferocious enemy. He now became the enemy of all things, and -more ferocious than ever. To such an extent was he tormented, -that he hated blindly and without the faintest spark of reason. -He hated the chain that bound him, the men who peered in at him through -the slats of the pen, the dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled -malignantly at him in his helplessness. He hated the very wood -of the pen that confined him. And, first, last, and most of all, -he hated Beauty Smith.

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But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang. -One day a number of men gathered about the pen. Beauty Smith entered, -club in hand, and took the chain off from White Fang’s neck. -When his master had gone out, White Fang turned loose and tore around -the pen, trying to get at the men outside. He was magnificently -terrible. Fully five feet in length, and standing two and one-half -feet at the shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding size. -From his mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of the dog, -so that he weighed, without any fat and without an ounce of superfluous -flesh, over ninety pounds. It was all muscle, bone, and sinew-fighting -flesh in the finest condition.

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The door of the pen was being opened again. White Fang paused. -Something unusual was happening. He waited. The door was -opened wider. Then a huge dog was thrust inside, and the door -was slammed shut behind him. White Fang had never seen such a -dog (it was a mastiff); but the size and fierce aspect of the intruder -did not deter him. Here was some thing, not wood nor iron, upon -which to wreak his hate. He leaped in with a flash of fangs that -ripped down the side of the mastiff’s neck. The mastiff -shook his head, growled hoarsely, and plunged at White Fang. But -White Fang was here, there, and everywhere, always evading and eluding, -and always leaping in and slashing with his fangs and leaping out again -in time to escape punishment.

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The men outside shouted and applauded, while Beauty Smith, in an -ecstasy of delight, gloated over the ripping and mangling performed -by White Fang. There was no hope for the mastiff from the first. -He was too ponderous and slow. In the end, while Beauty Smith -beat White Fang back with a club, the mastiff was dragged out by its -owner. Then there was a payment of bets, and money clinked in -Beauty Smith’s hand.

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White Fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men -around his pen. It meant a fight; and this was the only way that -was now vouchsafed him of expressing the life that was in him. -Tormented, incited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so that there was -no way of satisfying that hate except at the times his master saw fit -to put another dog against him. Beauty Smith had estimated his -powers well, for he was invariably the victor. One day, three -dogs were turned in upon him in succession. Another day a full-grown -wolf, fresh-caught from the Wild, was shoved in through the door of -the pen. And on still another day two dogs were set against him -at the same time. This was his severest fight, and though in the -end he killed them both he was himself half killed in doing it.

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In the fall of the year, when the first snows were falling and mush-ice -was running in the river, Beauty Smith took passage for himself and -White Fang on a steamboat bound up the Yukon to Dawson. White -Fang had now achieved a reputation in the land. As “the -Fighting Wolf” he was known far and wide, and the cage in which -he was kept on the steam-boat’s deck was usually surrounded by -curious men. He raged and snarled at them, or lay quietly and -studied them with cold hatred. Why should he not hate them? -He never asked himself the question. He knew only hate and lost -himself in the passion of it. Life had become a hell to him. -He had not been made for the close confinement wild beasts endure at -the hands of men. And yet it was in precisely this way that he -was treated. Men stared at him, poked sticks between the bars -to make him snarl, and then laughed at him.

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They were his environment, these men, and they were moulding the -clay of him into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by Nature. -Nevertheless, Nature had given him plasticity. Where many another -animal would have died or had its spirit broken, he adjusted himself -and lived, and at no expense of the spirit. Possibly Beauty Smith, -arch-fiend and tormentor, was capable of breaking White Fang’s -spirit, but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding.

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If Beauty Smith had in him a devil, White Fang had another; and the -two of them raged against each other unceasingly. In the days -before, White Fang had had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a -man with a club in his hand; but this wisdom now left him. The -mere sight of Beauty Smith was sufficient to send him into transports -of fury. And when they came to close quarters, and he had been -beaten back by the club, he went on growling and snarling, and showing -his fangs. The last growl could never be extracted from him. -No matter how terribly he was beaten, he had always another growl; and -when Beauty Smith gave up and withdrew, the defiant growl followed after -him, or White Fang sprang at the bars of the cage bellowing his hatred.

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When the steamboat arrived at Dawson, White Fang went ashore. -But he still lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by curious men. -He was exhibited as “the Fighting Wolf,” and men paid fifty -cents in gold dust to see him. He was given no rest. Did -he lie down to sleep, he was stirred up by a sharp stick—so that -the audience might get its money’s worth. In order to make -the exhibition interesting, he was kept in a rage most of the time. -But worse than all this, was the atmosphere in which he lived. -He was regarded as the most fearful of wild beasts, and this was borne -in to him through the bars of the cage. Every word, every cautious -action, on the part of the men, impressed upon him his own terrible -ferocity. It was so much added fuel to the flame of his fierceness. -There could be but one result, and that was that his ferocity fed upon -itself and increased. It was another instance of the plasticity -of his clay, of his capacity for being moulded by the pressure of environment.

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In addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting animal. -At irregular intervals, whenever a fight could be arranged, he was taken -out of his cage and led off into the woods a few miles from town. -Usually this occurred at night, so as to avoid interference from the -mounted police of the Territory. After a few hours of waiting, -when daylight had come, the audience and the dog with which he was to -fight arrived. In this manner it came about that he fought all -sizes and breeds of dogs. It was a savage land, the men were savage, -and the fights were usually to the death.

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Since White Fang continued to fight, it is obvious that it was the -other dogs that died. He never knew defeat. His early training, -when he fought with Lip-lip and the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good -stead. There was the tenacity with which he clung to the earth. -No dog could make him lose his footing. This was the favourite -trick of the wolf breeds—to rush in upon him, either directly -or with an unexpected swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder and -overthrowing him. Mackenzie hounds, Eskimo and Labrador dogs, -huskies and Malemutes—all tried it on him, and all failed. -He was never known to lose his footing. Men told this to one another, -and looked each time to see it happen; but White Fang always disappointed -them.

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Then there was his lightning quickness. It gave him a tremendous -advantage over his antagonists. No matter what their fighting -experience, they had never encountered a dog that moved so swiftly as -he. Also to be reckoned with, was the immediateness of his attack. -The average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of snarling and -bristling and growling, and the average dog was knocked off his feet -and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered from his surprise. -So often did this happen, that it became the custom to hold White Fang -until the other dog went through its preliminaries, was good and ready, -and even made the first attack.

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But greatest of all the advantages in White Fang’s favour, -was his experience. He knew more about fighting than did any of -the dogs that faced him. He had fought more fights, knew how to -meet more tricks and methods, and had more tricks himself, while his -own method was scarcely to be improved upon.

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As the time went by, he had fewer and fewer fights. Men despaired -of matching him with an equal, and Beauty Smith was compelled to pit -wolves against him. These were trapped by the Indians for the -purpose, and a fight between White Fang and a wolf was always sure to -draw a crowd. Once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, and -this time White Fang fought for his life. Her quickness matched -his; her ferocity equalled his; while he fought with his fangs alone, -and she fought with her sharp-clawed feet as well.

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But after the lynx, all fighting ceased for White Fang. There -were no more animals with which to fight—at least, there was none -considered worthy of fighting with him. So he remained on exhibition -until spring, when one Tim Keenan, a faro-dealer, arrived in the land. -With him came the first bull-dog that had ever entered the Klondike. -That this dog and White Fang should come together was inevitable, and -for a week the anticipated fight was the mainspring of conversation -in certain quarters of the town.

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-Chapter IVThe Clinging Death

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Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back.

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For once White Fang did not make an immediate attack. He stood -still, ears pricked forward, alert and curious, surveying the strange -animal that faced him. He had never seen such a dog before. -Tim Keenan shoved the bull-dog forward with a muttered “Go to -it.” The animal waddled toward the centre of the circle, -short and squat and ungainly. He came to a stop and blinked across -at White Fang.

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There were cries from the crowd of, “Go to him, Cherokee! -Sick ’m, Cherokee! Eat ’m up!”

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But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. He turned his head -and blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump -of a tail good-naturedly. He was not afraid, but merely lazy. -Besides, it did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight -with the dog he saw before him. He was not used to fighting with -that kind of dog, and he was waiting for them to bring on the real dog.

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Tim Keenan stepped in and bent over Cherokee, fondling him on both -sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the -hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. These were -so many suggestions. Also, their effect was irritating, for Cherokee -began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. There was -a correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the movements of the -man’s hands. The growl rose in the throat with the culmination -of each forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh -with the beginning of the next movement. The end of each movement -was the accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the growling -rising with a jerk.

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This was not without its effect on White Fang. The hair began -to rise on his neck and across the shoulders. Tim Keenan gave -a final shove forward and stepped back again. As the impetus that -carried Cherokee forward died down, he continued to go forward of his -own volition, in a swift, bow-legged run. Then White Fang struck. -A cry of startled admiration went up. He had covered the distance -and gone in more like a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness -he had slashed with his fangs and leaped clear.

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The bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick -neck. He gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed -after White Fang. The display on both sides, the quickness of -the one and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit -of the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing original -bets. Again, and yet again, White Fang sprang in, slashed, and -got away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after him, without -too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly, in a -businesslike sort of way. There was purpose in his method—something -for him to do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing could -distract him.

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His whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. -It puzzled White Fang. Never had he seen such a dog. It -had no hair protection. It was soft, and bled easily. There -was no thick mat of fur to baffle White Fang’s teeth as they were -often baffled by dogs of his own breed. Each time that his teeth -struck they sank easily into the yielding flesh, while the animal did -not seem able to defend itself. Another disconcerting thing was -that it made no outcry, such as he had been accustomed to with the other -dogs he had fought. Beyond a growl or a grunt, the dog took its -punishment silently. And never did it flag in its pursuit of him.

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Not that Cherokee was slow. He could turn and whirl swiftly -enough, but White Fang was never there. Cherokee was puzzled, -too. He had never fought before with a dog with which he could -not close. The desire to close had always been mutual. But -here was a dog that kept at a distance, dancing and dodging here and -there and all about. And when it did get its teeth into him, it -did not hold on but let go instantly and darted away again.

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But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. -The bull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added protection. -White Fang darted in and out unscathed, while Cherokee’s wounds -increased. Both sides of his neck and head were ripped and slashed. -He bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. He -continued his plodding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, -he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the -same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of his willingness -to fight.

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In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out, in passing ripping -his trimmed remnant of an ear. With a slight manifestation of -anger, Cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside of -the circle White Fang was making, and striving to fasten his deadly -grip on White Fang’s throat. The bull-dog missed by a hair’s-breadth, -and cries of praise went up as White Fang doubled suddenly out of danger -in the opposite direction.

-

The time went by. White Fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, -leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage. And still the -bull-dog, with grim certitude, toiled after him. Sooner or later -he would accomplish his purpose, get the grip that would win the battle. -In the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other could deal -him. His tufts of ears had become tassels, his neck and shoulders -were slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were cut and bleeding—all -from these lightning snaps that were beyond his foreseeing and guarding.

-

Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off his -feet; but the difference in their height was too great. Cherokee -was too squat, too close to the ground. White Fang tried the trick -once too often. The chance came in one of his quick doublings -and counter-circlings. He caught Cherokee with head turned away -as he whirled more slowly. His shoulder was exposed. White -Fang drove in upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he -struck with such force that his momentum carried him on across over -the other’s body. For the first time in his fighting history, -men saw White Fang lose his footing. His body turned a half-somersault -in the air, and he would have landed on his back had he not twisted, -catlike, still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. -As it was, he struck heavily on his side. The next instant he -was on his feet, but in that instant Cherokee’s teeth closed on -his throat.

-

It was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; but -Cherokee held on. White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly -around, trying to shake off the bull-dog’s body. It made -him frantic, this clinging, dragging weight. It bound his movements, -restricted his freedom. It was like the trap, and all his instinct -resented it and revolted against it. It was a mad revolt. -For several minutes he was to all intents insane. The basic life -that was in him took charge of him. The will to exist of his body -surged over him. He was dominated by this mere flesh-love of life. -All intelligence was gone. It was as though he had no brain. -His reason was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist -and move, at all hazards to move, to continue to move, for movement -was the expression of its existence.

-

Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, trying -to shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. -The bull-dog did little but keep his grip. Sometimes, and rarely, -he managed to get his feet to the earth and for a moment to brace himself -against White Fang. But the next moment his footing would be lost -and he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of White Fang’s -mad gyrations. Cherokee identified himself with his instinct. -He knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there came -to him certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. At such moments -he even closed his eyes and allowed his body to be hurled hither and -thither, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might thereby come to -it. That did not count. The grip was the thing, and the -grip he kept.

-

White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. He could -do nothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, -had this thing happened. The dogs he had fought with did not fight -that way. With them it was snap and slash and get away, snap and -slash and get away. He lay partly on his side, panting for breath. -Cherokee still holding his grip, urged against him, trying to get him -over entirely on his side. White Fang resisted, and he could feel -the jaws shifting their grip, slightly relaxing and coming together -again in a chewing movement. Each shift brought the grip closer -to his throat. The bull-dog’s method was to hold what he -had, and when opportunity favoured to work in for more. Opportunity -favoured when White Fang remained quiet. When White Fang struggled, -Cherokee was content merely to hold on.

-

The bulging back of Cherokee’s neck was the only portion of -his body that White Fang’s teeth could reach. He got hold -toward the base where the neck comes out from the shoulders; but he -did not know the chewing method of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted -to it. He spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. -Then a change in their position diverted him. The bull-dog had -managed to roll him over on his back, and still hanging on to his throat, -was on top of him. Like a cat, White Fang bowed his hind-quarters -in, and, with the feet digging into his enemy’s abdomen above -him, he began to claw with long tearing-strokes. Cherokee might -well have been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted on his grip -and got his body off of White Fang’s and at right angles to it.

-

There was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and -as inexorable. Slowly it shifted up along the jugular. All -that saved White Fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and -the thick fur that covered it. This served to form a large roll -in Cherokee’s mouth, the fur of which well-nigh defied his teeth. -But bit by bit, whenever the chance offered, he was getting more of -the loose skin and fur in his mouth. The result was that he was -slowly throttling White Fang. The latter’s breath was drawn -with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by.

-

It began to look as though the battle were over. The backers -of Cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. White -Fang’s backers were correspondingly depressed, and refused bets -of ten to one and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close -a wager of fifty to one. This man was Beauty Smith. He took -a step into the ring and pointed his finger at White Fang. Then -he began to laugh derisively and scornfully. This produced the -desired effect. White Fang went wild with rage. He called -up his reserves of strength, and gained his feet. As he struggled -around the ring, the fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on his throat, -his anger passed on into panic. The basic life of him dominated -him again, and his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to -live. Round and round and back again, stumbling and falling and -rising, even uprearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe -clear of the earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death.

-

At last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted; and the bull-dog promptly -shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more of the fur-folded -flesh, throttling White Fang more severely than ever. Shouts of -applause went up for the victor, and there were many cries of “Cherokee!” -“Cherokee!” To this Cherokee responded by vigorous -wagging of the stump of his tail. But the clamour of approval -did not distract him. There was no sympathetic relation between -his tail and his massive jaws. The one might wag, but the others -held their terrible grip on White Fang’s throat.

-

It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. -There was a jingle of bells. Dog-mushers’ cries were heard. -Everybody, save Beauty Smith, looked apprehensively, the fear of the -police strong upon them. But they saw, up the trail, and not down, -two men running with sled and dogs. They were evidently coming -down the creek from some prospecting trip. At sight of the crowd -they stopped their dogs and came over and joined it, curious to see -the cause of the excitement. The dog-musher wore a moustache, -but the other, a taller and younger man, was smooth-shaven, his skin -rosy from the pounding of his blood and the running in the frosty air.

-

White Fang had practically ceased struggling. Now and again -he resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little -air, and that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that -ever tightened. In spite of his armour of fur, the great vein -of his throat would have long since been torn open, had not the first -grip of the bull-dog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. -It had taken Cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward, and this -had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skin-fold.

-

In the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising -into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed -at best. When he saw White Fang’s eyes beginning to glaze, -he knew beyond doubt that the fight was lost. Then he broke loose. -He sprang upon White Fang and began savagely to kick him. There -were hisses from the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. -While this went on, and Beauty Smith continued to kick White Fang, there -was a commotion in the crowd. The tall young newcomer was forcing -his way through, shouldering men right and left without ceremony or -gentleness. When he broke through into the ring, Beauty Smith -was just in the act of delivering another kick. All his weight -was on one foot, and he was in a state of unstable equilibrium. -At that moment the newcomer’s fist landed a smashing blow full -in his face. Beauty Smith’s remaining leg left the ground, -and his whole body seemed to lift into the air as he turned over backward -and struck the snow. The newcomer turned upon the crowd.

-

“You cowards!” he cried. “You beasts!”

-

He was in a rage himself—a sane rage. His grey eyes seemed -metallic and steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. Beauty -Smith regained his feet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. -The new-comer did not understand. He did not know how abject a -coward the other was, and thought he was coming back intent on fighting. -So, with a “You beast!” he smashed Beauty Smith over backward -with a second blow in the face. Beauty Smith decided that the -snow was the safest place for him, and lay where he had fallen, making -no effort to get up.

-

“Come on, Matt, lend a hand,” the newcomer called the -dog-musher, who had followed him into the ring.

-

Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took hold of White Fang, -ready to pull when Cherokee’s jaws should be loosened. This -the younger man endeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog’s -jaws in his hands and trying to spread them. It was a vain undertaking. -As he pulled and tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming with every -expulsion of breath, “Beasts!”

-

The crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protesting -against the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when the newcomer -lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at them.

-

“You damn beasts!” he finally exploded, and went back -to his task.

-

“It’s no use, Mr. Scott, you can’t break ’m -apart that way,” Matt said at last.

-

The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs.

-

“Ain’t bleedin’ much,” Matt announced. -“Ain’t got all the way in yet.”

-

“But he’s liable to any moment,” Scott answered. -“There, did you see that! He shifted his grip in a bit.”

-

The younger man’s excitement and apprehension for White Fang -was growing. He struck Cherokee about the head savagely again -and again. But that did not loosen the jaws. Cherokee wagged -the stump of his tail in advertisement that he understood the meaning -of the blows, but that he knew he was himself in the right and only -doing his duty by keeping his grip.

-

“Won’t some of you help?” Scott cried desperately -at the crowd.

-

But no help was offered. Instead, the crowd began sarcastically -to cheer him on and showered him with facetious advice.

-

“You’ll have to get a pry,” Matt counselled.

-

The other reached into the holster at his hip, drew his revolver, -and tried to thrust its muzzle between the bull-dog’s jaws. -He shoved, and shoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the -locked teeth could be distinctly heard. Both men were on their -knees, bending over the dogs. Tim Keenan strode into the ring. -He paused beside Scott and touched him on the shoulder, saying ominously:

-

“Don’t break them teeth, stranger.”

-

“Then I’ll break his neck,” Scott retorted, continuing -his shoving and wedging with the revolver muzzle.

-

“I said don’t break them teeth,” the faro-dealer -repeated more ominously than before.

-

But if it was a bluff he intended, it did not work. Scott never -desisted from his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked:

-

“Your dog?”

-

The faro-dealer grunted.

-

“Then get in here and break this grip.”

-

“Well, stranger,” the other drawled irritatingly, “I -don’t mind telling you that’s something I ain’t worked -out for myself. I don’t know how to turn the trick.”

-

“Then get out of the way,” was the reply, “and -don’t bother me. I’m busy.”

-

Tim Keenan continued standing over him, but Scott took no further -notice of his presence. He had managed to get the muzzle in between -the jaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws -on the other side. This accomplished, he pried gently and carefully, -loosening the jaws a bit at a time, while Matt, a bit at a time, extricated -White Fang’s mangled neck.

-

“Stand by to receive your dog,” was Scott’s peremptory -order to Cherokee’s owner.

-

The faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on Cherokee.

-

“Now!” Scott warned, giving the final pry.

-

The dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously.

-

“Take him away,” Scott commanded, and Tim Keenan dragged -Cherokee back into the crowd.

-

White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. Once -he gained his feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he -slowly wilted and sank back into the snow. His eyes were half -closed, and the surface of them was glassy. His jaws were apart, -and through them the tongue protruded, draggled and limp. To all -appearances he looked like a dog that had been strangled to death. -Matt examined him.

-

“Just about all in,” he announced; “but he’s -breathin’ all right.”

-

Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at White -Fang.

-

“Matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?” Scott asked.

-

The dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over White Fang, calculated -for a moment.

-

“Three hundred dollars,” he answered.

-

“And how much for one that’s all chewed up like this -one?” Scott asked, nudging White Fang with his foot.

-

“Half of that,” was the dog-musher’s judgment. -Scott turned upon Beauty Smith.

-

“Did you hear, Mr. Beast? I’m going to take your -dog from you, and I’m going to give you a hundred and fifty for -him.”

-

He opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills.

-

Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the -proffered money.

-

“I ain’t a-sellin’,” he said.

-

“Oh, yes you are,” the other assured him. “Because -I’m buying. Here’s your money. The dog’s -mine.”

-

Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away.

-

Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty -Smith cowered down in anticipation of the blow.

-

“I’ve got my rights,” he whimpered.

-

“You’ve forfeited your rights to own that dog,” -was the rejoinder. “Are you going to take the money? or -do I have to hit you again?”

-

“All right,” Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity -of fear. “But I take the money under protest,” he -added. “The dog’s a mint. I ain’t a-goin’ -to be robbed. A man’s got his rights.”

-

“Correct,” Scott answered, passing the money over to -him. “A man’s got his rights. But you’re -not a man. You’re a beast.”

-

“Wait till I get back to Dawson,” Beauty Smith threatened. -“I’ll have the law on you.”

-

“If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I’ll -have you run out of town. Understand?”

-

Beauty Smith replied with a grunt.

-

“Understand?” the other thundered with abrupt fierceness.

-

“Yes,” Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away.

-

“Yes what?”

-

“Yes, sir,” Beauty Smith snarled.

-

“Look out! He’ll bite!” some one shouted, -and a guffaw of laughter went up.

-

Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, -who was working over White Fang.

-

Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, looking -on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups.

-

“Who’s that mug?” he asked.

-

“Weedon Scott,” some one answered.

-

“And who in hell is Weedon Scott?” the faro-dealer demanded.

-

“Oh, one of them crackerjack minin’ experts. He’s -in with all the big bugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, -you’ll steer clear of him, that’s my talk. He’s -all hunky with the officials. The Gold Commissioner’s a -special pal of his.”

-

“I thought he must be somebody,” was the faro-dealer’s -comment. “That’s why I kept my hands offen him at -the start.”

-
-
-

-Chapter VThe Indomitable

-

“It’s hopeless,” Weedon Scott confessed.

-

He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who -responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless.

-

Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched chain, -bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the sled-dogs. -Having received sundry lessons from Matt, said lessons being imparted -by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to leave White Fang alone; -and even then they were lying down at a distance, apparently oblivious -of his existence.

-

“It’s a wolf and there’s no taming it,” Weedon -Scott announced.

-

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Matt objected. -“Might be a lot of dog in ’m, for all you can tell. -But there’s one thing I know sure, an’ that there’s -no gettin’ away from.”

-

The dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at Moosehide -Mountain.

-

“Well, don’t be a miser with what you know,” Scott -said sharply, after waiting a suitable length of time. “Spit -it out. What is it?”

-

The dog-musher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his -thumb.

-

“Wolf or dog, it’s all the same—he’s ben -tamed ’ready.”

-

“No!”

-

“I tell you yes, an’ broke to harness. Look close -there. D’ye see them marks across the chest?”

-

“You’re right, Matt. He was a sled-dog before Beauty -Smith got hold of him.”

-

“And there’s not much reason against his bein’ -a sled-dog again.”

-

“What d’ye think?” Scott queried eagerly. -Then the hope died down as he added, shaking his head, “We’ve -had him two weeks now, and if anything he’s wilder than ever at -the present moment.”

-

“Give ’m a chance,” Matt counselled. “Turn -’m loose for a spell.”

-

The other looked at him incredulously.

-

“Yes,” Matt went on, “I know you’ve tried -to, but you didn’t take a club.”

-

“You try it then.”

-

The dog-musher secured a club and went over to the chained animal. -White Fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion watching -the whip of its trainer.

-

“See ’m keep his eye on that club,” Matt said. -“That’s a good sign. He’s no fool. Don’t -dast tackle me so long as I got that club handy. He’s not -clean crazy, sure.”

-

As the man’s hand approached his neck, White Fang bristled -and snarled and crouched down. But while he eyed the approaching -hand, he at the same time contrived to keep track of the club in the -other hand, suspended threateningly above him. Matt unsnapped -the chain from the collar and stepped back.

-

White Fang could scarcely realise that he was free. Many months -had gone by since he passed into the possession of Beauty Smith, and -in all that period he had never known a moment of freedom except at -the times he had been loosed to fight with other dogs. Immediately -after such fights he had always been imprisoned again.

-

He did not know what to make of it. Perhaps some new devilry -of the gods was about to be perpetrated on him. He walked slowly -and cautiously, prepared to be assailed at any moment. He did -not know what to do, it was all so unprecedented. He took the -precaution to sheer off from the two watching gods, and walked carefully -to the corner of the cabin. Nothing happened. He was plainly -perplexed, and he came back again, pausing a dozen feet away and regarding -the two men intently.

-

“Won’t he run away?” his new owner asked.

-

Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Got to take a gamble. -Only way to find out is to find out.”

-

“Poor devil,” Scott murmured pityingly. “What -he needs is some show of human kindness,” he added, turning and -going into the cabin.

-

He came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to White Fang. -He sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously.

-

“Hi-yu, Major!” Matt shouted warningly, but too late.

-

Major had made a spring for the meat. At the instant his jaws -closed on it, White Fang struck him. He was overthrown. -Matt rushed in, but quicker than he was White Fang. Major staggered -to his feet, but the blood spouting from his throat reddened the snow -in a widening path.

-

“It’s too bad, but it served him right,” Scott -said hastily.

-

But Matt’s foot had already started on its way to kick White -Fang. There was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. -White Fang, snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, -while Matt stooped and investigated his leg.

-

“He got me all right,” he announced, pointing to the -torn trousers and undercloths, and the growing stain of red.

-

“I told you it was hopeless, Matt,” Scott said in a discouraged -voice. “I’ve thought about it off and on, while not -wanting to think of it. But we’ve come to it now. -It’s the only thing to do.”

-

As he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threw -open the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents.

-

“Look here, Mr. Scott,” Matt objected; “that dog’s -ben through hell. You can’t expect ’m to come out -a white an’ shinin’ angel. Give ’m time.”

-

“Look at Major,” the other rejoined.

-

The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. He had sunk down -on the snow in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp.

-

“Served ’m right. You said so yourself, Mr. Scott. -He tried to take White Fang’s meat, an’ he’s dead-O. -That was to be expected. I wouldn’t give two whoops in hell -for a dog that wouldn’t fight for his own meat.”

-

“But look at yourself, Matt. It’s all right about -the dogs, but we must draw the line somewhere.”

-

“Served me right,” Matt argued stubbornly. “What’d -I want to kick ’m for? You said yourself that he’d -done right. Then I had no right to kick ’m.”

-

“It would be a mercy to kill him,” Scott insisted. -“He’s untamable.”

-

“Now look here, Mr. Scott, give the poor devil a fightin’ -chance. He ain’t had no chance yet. He’s just -come through hell, an’ this is the first time he’s ben loose. -Give ’m a fair chance, an’ if he don’t deliver the -goods, I’ll kill ’m myself. There!”

-

“God knows I don’t want to kill him or have him killed,” -Scott answered, putting away the revolver. “We’ll -let him run loose and see what kindness can do for him. And here’s -a try at it.”

-

He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and -soothingly.

-

“Better have a club handy,” Matt warned.

-

Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fang’s -confidence.

-

White Fang was suspicious. Something was impending. He -had killed this god’s dog, bitten his companion god, and what -else was to be expected than some terrible punishment? But in -the face of it he was indomitable. He bristled and showed his -teeth, his eyes vigilant, his whole body wary and prepared for anything. -The god had no club, so he suffered him to approach quite near. -The god’s hand had come out and was descending upon his head. -White Fang shrank together and grew tense as he crouched under it. -Here was danger, some treachery or something. He knew the hands -of the gods, their proved mastery, their cunning to hurt. Besides, -there was his old antipathy to being touched. He snarled more -menacingly, crouched still lower, and still the hand descended. -He did not want to bite the hand, and he endured the peril of it until -his instinct surged up in him, mastering him with its insatiable yearning -for life.

-

Weedon Scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap -or slash. But he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of -White Fang, who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled -snake.

-

Scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand and -holding it tightly in his other hand. Matt uttered a great oath -and sprang to his side. White Fang crouched down, and backed away, -bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malignant with menace. -Now he could expect a beating as fearful as any he had received from -Beauty Smith.

-

“Here! What are you doing?” Scott cried suddenly.

-

Matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle.

-

“Nothin’,” he said slowly, with a careless calmness -that was assumed, “only goin’ to keep that promise I made. -I reckon it’s up to me to kill ’m as I said I’d do.”

-

“No you don’t!”

-

“Yes I do. Watch me.”

-

As Matt had pleaded for White Fang when he had been bitten, it was -now Weedon Scott’s turn to plead.

-

“You said to give him a chance. Well, give it to him. -We’ve only just started, and we can’t quit at the beginning. -It served me right, this time. And—look at him!”

-

White Fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away, was -snarling with blood-curdling viciousness, not at Scott, but at the dog-musher.

-

“Well, I’ll be everlastingly gosh-swoggled!” was -the dog-musher’s expression of astonishment.

-

“Look at the intelligence of him,” Scott went on hastily. -“He knows the meaning of firearms as well as you do. He’s -got intelligence and we’ve got to give that intelligence a chance. -Put up the gun.”

-

“All right, I’m willin’,” Matt agreed, leaning -the rifle against the woodpile.

-

“But will you look at that!” he exclaimed the next moment.

-

White Fang had quieted down and ceased snarling. “This -is worth investigatin’. Watch.”

-

Matt, reached for the rifle, and at the same moment White Fang snarled. -He stepped away from the rifle, and White Fang’s lifted lips descended, -covering his teeth.

-

“Now, just for fun.”

-

Matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder. -White Fang’s snarling began with the movement, and increased as -the movement approached its culmination. But the moment before -the rifle came to a level on him, he leaped sidewise behind the corner -of the cabin. Matt stood staring along the sights at the empty -space of snow which had been occupied by White Fang.

-

The dog-musher put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked -at his employer.

-

“I agree with you, Mr. Scott. That dog’s too intelligent -to kill.”

-
-
-

-Chapter VIThe Love-Master

-

As White Fang watched Weedon Scott approach, he bristled and snarled -to advertise that he would not submit to punishment. Twenty-four -hours had passed since he had slashed open the hand that was now bandaged -and held up by a sling to keep the blood out of it. In the past -White Fang had experienced delayed punishments, and he apprehended that -such a one was about to befall him. How could it be otherwise? -He had committed what was to him sacrilege, sunk his fangs into the -holy flesh of a god, and of a white-skinned superior god at that. -In the nature of things, and of intercourse with gods, something terrible -awaited him.

-

The god sat down several feet away. White Fang could see nothing -dangerous in that. When the gods administered punishment they -stood on their legs. Besides, this god had no club, no whip, no -firearm. And furthermore, he himself was free. No chain -nor stick bound him. He could escape into safety while the god -was scrambling to his feet. In the meantime he would wait and -see.

-

The god remained quiet, made no movement; and White Fang’s -snarl slowly dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased. -Then the god spoke, and at the first sound of his voice, the hair rose -on White Fang’s neck and the growl rushed up in his throat. -But the god made no hostile movement, and went on calmly talking. -For a time White Fang growled in unison with him, a correspondence of -rhythm being established between growl and voice. But the god -talked on interminably. He talked to White Fang as White Fang -had never been talked to before. He talked softly and soothingly, -with a gentleness that somehow, somewhere, touched White Fang. -In spite of himself and all the pricking warnings of his instinct, White -Fang began to have confidence in this god. He had a feeling of -security that was belied by all his experience with men.

-

After a long time, the god got up and went into the cabin. -White Fang scanned him apprehensively when he came out. He had -neither whip nor club nor weapon. Nor was his uninjured hand behind -his back hiding something. He sat down as before, in the same -spot, several feet away. He held out a small piece of meat. -White Fang pricked his ears and investigated it suspiciously, managing -to look at the same time both at the meat and the god, alert for any -overt act, his body tense and ready to spring away at the first sign -of hostility.

-

Still the punishment delayed. The god merely held near to his -nose a piece of meat. And about the meat there seemed nothing -wrong. Still White Fang suspected; and though the meat was proffered -to him with short inviting thrusts of the hand, he refused to touch -it. The gods were all-wise, and there was no telling what masterful -treachery lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of meat. -In past experience, especially in dealing with squaws, meat and punishment -had often been disastrously related.

-

In the end, the god tossed the meat on the snow at White Fang’s -feet. He smelled the meat carefully; but he did not look at it. -While he smelled it he kept his eyes on the god. Nothing happened. -He took the meat into his mouth and swallowed it. Still nothing -happened. The god was actually offering him another piece of meat. -Again he refused to take it from the hand, and again it was tossed to -him. This was repeated a number of times. But there came -a time when the god refused to toss it. He kept it in his hand -and steadfastly proffered it.

-

The meat was good meat, and White Fang was hungry. Bit by bit, -infinitely cautious, he approached the hand. At last the time -came that he decided to eat the meat from the hand. He never took -his eyes from the god, thrusting his head forward with ears flattened -back and hair involuntarily rising and cresting on his neck. Also -a low growl rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to be trifled -with. He ate the meat, and nothing happened. Piece by piece, -he ate all the meat, and nothing happened. Still the punishment -delayed.

-

He licked his chops and waited. The god went on talking. -In his voice was kindness—something of which White Fang had no -experience whatever. And within him it aroused feelings which -he had likewise never experienced before. He was aware of a certain -strange satisfaction, as though some need were being gratified, as though -some void in his being were being filled. Then again came the -prod of his instinct and the warning of past experience. The gods -were ever crafty, and they had unguessed ways of attaining their ends.

-

Ah, he had thought so! There it came now, the god’s hand, -cunning to hurt, thrusting out at him, descending upon his head. -But the god went on talking. His voice was soft and soothing. -In spite of the menacing hand, the voice inspired confidence. -And in spite of the assuring voice, the hand inspired distrust. -White Fang was torn by conflicting feelings, impulses. It seemed -he would fly to pieces, so terrible was the control he was exerting, -holding together by an unwonted indecision the counter-forces that struggled -within him for mastery.

-

He compromised. He snarled and bristled and flattened his ears. -But he neither snapped nor sprang away. The hand descended. -Nearer and nearer it came. It touched the ends of his upstanding -hair. He shrank down under it. It followed down after him, -pressing more closely against him. Shrinking, almost shivering, -he still managed to hold himself together. It was a torment, this -hand that touched him and violated his instinct. He could not -forget in a day all the evil that had been wrought him at the hands -of men. But it was the will of the god, and he strove to submit.

-

The hand lifted and descended again in a patting, caressing movement. -This continued, but every time the hand lifted, the hair lifted under -it. And every time the hand descended, the ears flattened down -and a cavernous growl surged in his throat. White Fang growled -and growled with insistent warning. By this means he announced -that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive. -There was no telling when the god’s ulterior motive might be disclosed. -At any moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice might break forth -in a roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand transform itself -into a vice-like grip to hold him helpless and administer punishment.

-

But the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with -non-hostile pats. White Fang experienced dual feelings. -It was distasteful to his instinct. It restrained him, opposed -the will of him toward personal liberty. And yet it was not physically -painful. On the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical -way. The patting movement slowly and carefully changed to a rubbing -of the ears about their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased -a little. Yet he continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant -of unguessed evil, alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling -or the other came uppermost and swayed him.

-

“Well, I’ll be gosh-swoggled!”

-

So spoke Matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a -pan of dirty dish-water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying -the pan by the sight of Weedon Scott patting White Fang.

-

At the instant his voice broke the silence, White Fang leaped back, -snarling savagely at him.

-

Matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval.

-

“If you don’t mind my expressin’ my feelin’s, -Mr. Scott, I’ll make free to say you’re seventeen kinds -of a damn fool an’ all of ’em different, an’ then -some.”

-

Weedon Scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked -over to White Fang. He talked soothingly to him, but not for long, -then slowly put out his hand, rested it on White Fang’s head, -and resumed the interrupted patting. White Fang endured it, keeping -his eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that patted him, but upon -the man that stood in the doorway.

-

“You may be a number one, tip-top minin’ expert, all -right all right,” the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, -“but you missed the chance of your life when you was a boy an’ -didn’t run off an’ join a circus.”

-

White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not -leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back -of his neck with long, soothing strokes.

-

It was the beginning of the end for White Fang—the ending of -the old life and the reign of hate. A new and incomprehensibly -fairer life was dawning. It required much thinking and endless -patience on the part of Weedon Scott to accomplish this. And on -the part of White Fang it required nothing less than a revolution. -He had to ignore the urges and promptings of instinct and reason, defy -experience, give the lie to life itself.

-

Life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much -that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to which -he now abandoned himself. In short, when all things were considered, -he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one he had achieved -at the time he came voluntarily in from the Wild and accepted Grey Beaver -as his lord. At that time he was a mere puppy, soft from the making, -without form, ready for the thumb of circumstance to begin its work -upon him. But now it was different. The thumb of circumstance -had done its work only too well. By it he had been formed and -hardened into the Fighting Wolf, fierce and implacable, unloving and -unlovable. To accomplish the change was like a reflux of being, -and this when the plasticity of youth was no longer his; when the fibre -of him had become tough and knotty; when the warp and the woof of him -had made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and unyielding; when the -face of his spirit had become iron and all his instincts and axioms -had crystallised into set rules, cautions, dislikes, and desires.

-

Yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance -that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard and -remoulding it into fairer form. Weedon Scott was in truth this -thumb. He had gone to the roots of White Fang’s nature, -and with kindness touched to life potencies that had languished and -well-nigh perished. One such potency was love. It -took the place of like, which latter had been the highest feeling -that thrilled him in his intercourse with the gods.

-

But this love did not come in a day. It began with like -and out of it slowly developed. White Fang did not run away, though -he was allowed to remain loose, because he liked this new god. -This was certainly better than the life he had lived in the cage of -Beauty Smith, and it was necessary that he should have some god. -The lordship of man was a need of his nature. The seal of his -dependence on man had been set upon him in that early day when he turned -his back on the Wild and crawled to Grey Beaver’s feet to receive -the expected beating. This seal had been stamped upon him again, -and ineradicably, on his second return from the Wild, when the long -famine was over and there was fish once more in the village of Grey -Beaver.

-

And so, because he needed a god and because he preferred Weedon Scott -to Beauty Smith, White Fang remained. In acknowledgment of fealty, -he proceeded to take upon himself the guardianship of his master’s -property. He prowled about the cabin while the sled-dogs slept, -and the first night-visitor to the cabin fought him off with a club -until Weedon Scott came to the rescue. But White Fang soon learned -to differentiate between thieves and honest men, to appraise the true -value of step and carriage. The man who travelled, loud-stepping, -the direct line to the cabin door, he let alone—though he watched -him vigilantly until the door opened and he received the endorsement -of the master. But the man who went softly, by circuitous ways, -peering with caution, seeking after secrecy—that was the man who -received no suspension of judgment from White Fang, and who went away -abruptly, hurriedly, and without dignity.

-

Weedon Scott had set himself the task of redeeming White Fang—or -rather, of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done White Fang. -It was a matter of principle and conscience. He felt that the -ill done White Fang was a debt incurred by man and that it must be paid. -So he went out of his way to be especially kind to the Fighting Wolf. -Each day he made it a point to caress and pet White Fang, and to do -it at length.

-

At first suspicious and hostile, White Fang grew to like this petting. -But there was one thing that he never outgrew—his growling. -Growl he would, from the moment the petting began till it ended. -But it was a growl with a new note in it. A stranger could not -hear this note, and to such a stranger the growling of White Fang was -an exhibition of primordial savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curdling. -But White Fang’s throat had become harsh-fibred from the making -of ferocious sounds through the many years since his first little rasp -of anger in the lair of his cubhood, and he could not soften the sounds -of that throat now to express the gentleness he felt. Nevertheless, -Weedon Scott’s ear and sympathy were fine enough to catch the -new note all but drowned in the fierceness—the note that was the -faintest hint of a croon of content and that none but he could hear.

-

As the days went by, the evolution of like into love -was accelerated. White Fang himself began to grow aware of it, -though in his consciousness he knew not what love was. It manifested -itself to him as a void in his being—a hungry, aching, yearning -void that clamoured to be filled. It was a pain and an unrest; -and it received easement only by the touch of the new god’s presence. -At such times love was joy to him, a wild, keen-thrilling satisfaction. -But when away from his god, the pain and the unrest returned; the void -in him sprang up and pressed against him with its emptiness, and the -hunger gnawed and gnawed unceasingly.

-

White Fang was in the process of finding himself. In spite -of the maturity of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould -that had formed him, his nature was undergoing an expansion. There -was a burgeoning within him of strange feelings and unwonted impulses. -His old code of conduct was changing. In the past he had liked -comfort and surcease from pain, disliked discomfort and pain, and he -had adjusted his actions accordingly. But now it was different. -Because of this new feeling within him, he ofttimes elected discomfort -and pain for the sake of his god. Thus, in the early morning, -instead of roaming and foraging, or lying in a sheltered nook, he would -wait for hours on the cheerless cabin-stoop for a sight of the god’s -face. At night, when the god returned home, White Fang would leave -the warm sleeping-place he had burrowed in the snow in order to receive -the friendly snap of fingers and the word of greeting. Meat, even -meat itself, he would forego to be with his god, to receive a caress -from him or to accompany him down into the town.

-

Like had been replaced by love. And love was -the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never -gone. And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. -That which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, -a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang’s -nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun.

-

But White Fang was not demonstrative. He was too old, too firmly -moulded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. He -was too self-possessed, too strongly poised in his own isolation. -Too long had he cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. -He had never barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark -a welcome when his god approached. He was never in the way, never -extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love. He never -ran to meet his god. He waited at a distance; but he always waited, -was always there. His love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, -inarticulate, a silent adoration. Only by the steady regard of -his eyes did he express his love, and by the unceasing following with -his eyes of his god’s every movement. Also, at times, when -his god looked at him and spoke to him, he betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, -caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical -inability to express it.

-

He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. -It was borne in upon him that he must let his master’s dogs alone. -Yet his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash -them into an acknowledgment of his superiority and leadership. -This accomplished, he had little trouble with them. They gave -trail to him when he came and went or walked among them, and when he -asserted his will they obeyed.

-

In the same way, he came to tolerate Matt—as a possession of -his master. His master rarely fed him. Matt did that, it -was his business; yet White Fang divined that it was his master’s -food he ate and that it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. -Matt it was who tried to put him into the harness and make him haul -sled with the other dogs. But Matt failed. It was not until -Weedon Scott put the harness on White Fang and worked him, that he understood. -He took it as his master’s will that Matt should drive him and -work him just as he drove and worked his master’s other dogs.

-

Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with -runners under them. And different was the method of driving the -dogs. There was no fan-formation of the team. The dogs worked -in single file, one behind another, hauling on double traces. -And here, in the Klondike, the leader was indeed the leader. The -wisest as well as strongest dog was the leader, and the team obeyed -him and feared him. That White Fang should quickly gain this post -was inevitable. He could not be satisfied with less, as Matt learned -after much inconvenience and trouble. White Fang picked out the -post for himself, and Matt backed his judgment with strong language -after the experiment had been tried. But, though he worked in -the sled in the day, White Fang did not forego the guarding of his master’s -property in the night. Thus he was on duty all the time, ever -vigilant and faithful, the most valuable of all the dogs.

-

“Makin’ free to spit out what’s in me,” Matt -said one day, “I beg to state that you was a wise guy all right -when you paid the price you did for that dog. You clean swindled -Beauty Smith on top of pushin’ his face in with your fist.”

-

A recrudescence of anger glinted in Weedon Scott’s grey eyes, -and he muttered savagely, “The beast!”

-

In the late spring a great trouble came to White Fang. Without -warning, the love-master disappeared. There had been warning, -but White Fang was unversed in such things and did not understand the -packing of a grip. He remembered afterwards that his packing had -preceded the master’s disappearance; but at the time he suspected -nothing. That night he waited for the master to return. -At midnight the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear -of the cabin. There he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed -for the first sound of the familiar step. But, at two in the morning, -his anxiety drove him out to the cold front stoop, where he crouched, -and waited.

-

But no master came. In the morning the door opened and Matt -stepped outside. White Fang gazed at him wistfully. There -was no common speech by which he might learn what he wanted to know. -The days came and went, but never the master. White Fang, who -had never known sickness in his life, became sick. He became very -sick, so sick that Matt was finally compelled to bring him inside the -cabin. Also, in writing to his employer, Matt devoted a postscript -to White Fang.

-

Weedon Scott reading the letter down in Circle City, came upon the -following:

-

“That dam wolf won’t work. Won’t eat. -Aint got no spunk left. All the dogs is licking him. Wants -to know what has become of you, and I don’t know how to tell him. -Mebbe he is going to die.”

-

It was as Matt had said. White Fang had ceased eating, lost -heart, and allowed every dog of the team to thrash him. In the -cabin he lay on the floor near the stove, without interest in food, -in Matt, nor in life. Matt might talk gently to him or swear at -him, it was all the same; he never did more than turn his dull eyes -upon the man, then drop his head back to its customary position on his -fore-paws.

-

And then, one night, Matt, reading to himself with moving lips and -mumbled sounds, was startled by a low whine from White Fang. He -had got upon his feet, his ears cocked towards the door, and he was -listening intently. A moment later, Matt heard a footstep. -The door opened, and Weedon Scott stepped in. The two men shook -hands. Then Scott looked around the room.

-

“Where’s the wolf?” he asked.

-

Then he discovered him, standing where he had been lying, near to -the stove. He had not rushed forward after the manner of other -dogs. He stood, watching and waiting.

-

“Holy smoke!” Matt exclaimed. “Look at ’m -wag his tail!”

-

Weedon Scott strode half across the room toward him, at the same -time calling him. White Fang came to him, not with a great bound, -yet quickly. He was awakened from self-consciousness, but as he -drew near, his eyes took on a strange expression. Something, an -incommunicable vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as a light -and shone forth.

-

“He never looked at me that way all the time you was gone!” -Matt commented.

-

Weedon Scott did not hear. He was squatting down on his heels, -face to face with White Fang and petting him—rubbing at the roots -of the ears, making long caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders, -tapping the spine gently with the balls of his fingers. And White -Fang was growling responsively, the crooning note of the growl more -pronounced than ever.

-

But that was not all. What of his joy, the great love in him, -ever surging and struggling to express itself, succeeded in finding -a new mode of expression. He suddenly thrust his head forward -and nudged his way in between the master’s arm and body. -And here, confined, hidden from view all except his ears, no longer -growling, he continued to nudge and snuggle.

-

The two men looked at each other. Scott’s eyes were shining.

-

“Gosh!” said Matt in an awe-stricken voice.

-

A moment later, when he had recovered himself, he said, “I -always insisted that wolf was a dog. Look at ’m!”

-

With the return of the love-master, White Fang’s recovery was -rapid. Two nights and a day he spent in the cabin. Then -he sallied forth. The sled-dogs had forgotten his prowess. -They remembered only the latest, which was his weakness and sickness. -At the sight of him as he came out of the cabin, they sprang upon him.

-

“Talk about your rough-houses,” Matt murmured gleefully, -standing in the doorway and looking on.

-

“Give ’m hell, you wolf! Give ’m hell!—an’ -then some!”

-

White Fang did not need the encouragement. The return of the -love-master was enough. Life was flowing through him again, splendid -and indomitable. He fought from sheer joy, finding in it an expression -of much that he felt and that otherwise was without speech. There -could be but one ending. The team dispersed in ignominious defeat, -and it was not until after dark that the dogs came sneaking back, one -by one, by meekness and humility signifying their fealty to White Fang.

-

Having learned to snuggle, White Fang was guilty of it often. -It was the final word. He could not go beyond it. The one -thing of which he had always been particularly jealous was his head. -He had always disliked to have it touched. It was the Wild in -him, the fear of hurt and of the trap, that had given rise to the panicky -impulses to avoid contacts. It was the mandate of his instinct -that that head must be free. And now, with the love-master, his -snuggling was the deliberate act of putting himself into a position -of hopeless helplessness. It was an expression of perfect confidence, -of absolute self-surrender, as though he said: “I put myself into -thy hands. Work thou thy will with me.”

-

One night, not long after the return, Scott and Matt sat at a game -of cribbage preliminary to going to bed. “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four -an’ a pair makes six,” Mat was pegging up, when there was -an outcry and sound of snarling without. They looked at each other -as they started to rise to their feet.

-

“The wolf’s nailed somebody,” Matt said.

-

A wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them.

-

“Bring a light!” Scott shouted, as he sprang outside.

-

Matt followed with the lamp, and by its light they saw a man lying -on his back in the snow. His arms were folded, one above the other, -across his face and throat. Thus he was trying to shield himself -from White Fang’s teeth. And there was need for it. -White Fang was in a rage, wickedly making his attack on the most vulnerable -spot. From shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms, the coat-sleeve, -blue flannel shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags, while the arms -themselves were terribly slashed and streaming blood.

-

All this the two men saw in the first instant. The next instant -Weedon Scott had White Fang by the throat and was dragging him clear. -White Fang struggled and snarled, but made no attempt to bite, while -he quickly quieted down at a sharp word from the master.

-

Matt helped the man to his feet. As he arose he lowered his -crossed arms, exposing the bestial face of Beauty Smith. The dog-musher -let go of him precipitately, with action similar to that of a man who -has picked up live fire. Beauty Smith blinked in the lamplight -and looked about him. He caught sight of White Fang and terror -rushed into his face.

-

At the same moment Matt noticed two objects lying in the snow. -He held the lamp close to them, indicating them with his toe for his -employer’s benefit—a steel dog-chain and a stout club.

-

Weedon Scott saw and nodded. Not a word was spoken. The -dog-musher laid his hand on Beauty Smith’s shoulder and faced -him to the right about. No word needed to be spoken. Beauty -Smith started.

-

In the meantime the love-master was patting White Fang and talking -to him.

-

“Tried to steal you, eh? And you wouldn’t have -it! Well, well, he made a mistake, didn’t he?”

-

“Must ‘a’ thought he had hold of seventeen devils,” -the dog-musher sniggered.

-

White Fang, still wrought up and bristling, growled and growled, -the hair slowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, but growing -in his throat.

-
-
-
-

Part V

-
-

-Chapter IThe Long Trail

-

It was in the air. White Fang sensed the coming calamity, even -before there was tangible evidence of it. In vague ways it was -borne in upon him that a change was impending. He knew not how -nor why, yet he got his feel of the oncoming event from the gods themselves. -In ways subtler than they knew, they betrayed their intentions to the -wolf-dog that haunted the cabin-stoop, and that, though he never came -inside the cabin, knew what went on inside their brains.

-

“Listen to that, will you!” the dug-musher exclaimed -at supper one night.

-

Weedon Scott listened. Through the door came a low, anxious -whine, like a sobbing under the breath that had just grown audible. -Then came the long sniff, as White Fang reassured himself that his god -was still inside and had not yet taken himself off in mysterious and -solitary flight.

-

“I do believe that wolf’s on to you,” the dog-musher -said.

-

Weedon Scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost -pleaded, though this was given the lie by his words.

-

“What the devil can I do with a wolf in California?” -he demanded.

-

“That’s what I say,” Matt answered. “What -the devil can you do with a wolf in California?”

-

But this did not satisfy Weedon Scott. The other seemed to -be judging him in a non-committal sort of way.

-

“White man’s dogs would have no show against him,” -Scott went on. “He’d kill them on sight. If -he didn’t bankrupt me with damaged suits, the authorities would -take him away from me and electrocute him.”

-

“He’s a downright murderer, I know,” was the dog-musher’s -comment.

-

Weedon Scott looked at him suspiciously.

-

“It would never do,” he said decisively.

-

“It would never do!” Matt concurred. “Why -you’d have to hire a man ’specially to take care of ’m.”

-

The other suspicion was allayed. He nodded cheerfully. -In the silence that followed, the low, half-sobbing whine was heard -at the door and then the long, questing sniff.

-

“There’s no denyin’ he thinks a hell of a lot of -you,” Matt said.

-

The other glared at him in sudden wrath. “Damn it all, -man! I know my own mind and what’s best!”

-

“I’m agreein’ with you, only . . . ”

-

“Only what?” Scott snapped out.

-

“Only . . . ” the dog-musher began softly, then changed -his mind and betrayed a rising anger of his own. “Well, -you needn’t get so all-fired het up about it. Judgin’ -by your actions one’d think you didn’t know your own mind.”

-

Weedon Scott debated with himself for a while, and then said more -gently: “You are right, Matt. I don’t know my own -mind, and that’s what’s the trouble.”

-

“Why, it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog -along,” he broke out after another pause.

-

“I’m agreein’ with you,” was Matt’s -answer, and again his employer was not quite satisfied with him.

-

“But how in the name of the great Sardanapolis he knows you’re -goin’ is what gets me,” the dog-musher continued innocently.

-

“It’s beyond me, Matt,” Scott answered, with a -mournful shake of the head.

-

Then came the day when, through the open cabin door, White Fang saw -the fatal grip on the floor and the love-master packing things into -it. Also, there were comings and goings, and the erstwhile placid -atmosphere of the cabin was vexed with strange perturbations and unrest. -Here was indubitable evidence. White Fang had already scented -it. He now reasoned it. His god was preparing for another -flight. And since he had not taken him with him before, so, now, -he could look to be left behind.

-

That night he lifted the long wolf-howl. As he had howled, -in his puppy days, when he fled back from the Wild to the village to -find it vanished and naught but a rubbish-heap to mark the site of Grey -Beaver’s tepee, so now he pointed his muzzle to the cold stars -and told to them his woe.

-

Inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed.

-

“He’s gone off his food again,” Matt remarked from -his bunk.

-

There was a grunt from Weedon Scott’s bunk, and a stir of blankets.

-

“From the way he cut up the other time you went away, I wouldn’t -wonder this time but what he died.”

-

The blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably.

-

“Oh, shut up!” Scott cried out through the darkness. -“You nag worse than a woman.”

-

“I’m agreein’ with you,” the dog-musher answered, -and Weedon Scott was not quite sure whether or not the other had snickered.

-

The next day White Fang’s anxiety and restlessness were even -more pronounced. He dogged his master’s heels whenever he -left the cabin, and haunted the front stoop when he remained inside. -Through the open door he could catch glimpses of the luggage on the -floor. The grip had been joined by two large canvas bags and a -box. Matt was rolling the master’s blankets and fur robe -inside a small tarpaulin. White Fang whined as he watched the -operation.

-

Later on two Indians arrived. He watched them closely as they -shouldered the luggage and were led off down the hill by Matt, who carried -the bedding and the grip. But White Fang did not follow them. -The master was still in the cabin. After a time, Matt returned. -The master came to the door and called White Fang inside.

-

“You poor devil,” he said gently, rubbing White Fang’s -ears and tapping his spine. “I’m hitting the long -trail, old man, where you cannot follow. Now give me a growl—the -last, good, good-bye growl.”

-

But White Fang refused to growl. Instead, and after a wistful, -searching look, he snuggled in, burrowing his head out of sight between -the master’s arm and body.

-

“There she blows!” Matt cried. From the Yukon arose -the hoarse bellowing of a river steamboat. “You’ve -got to cut it short. Be sure and lock the front door. I’ll -go out the back. Get a move on!”

-

The two doors slammed at the same moment, and Weedon Scott waited -for Matt to come around to the front. From inside the door came -a low whining and sobbing. Then there were long, deep-drawn sniffs.

-

“You must take good care of him, Matt,” Scott said, as -they started down the hill. “Write and let me know how he -gets along.”

-

“Sure,” the dog-musher answered. “But listen -to that, will you!”

-

Both men stopped. White Fang was howling as dogs howl when -their masters lie dead. He was voicing an utter woe, his cry bursting -upward in great heart-breaking rushes, dying down into quavering misery, -and bursting upward again with a rush upon rush of grief.

-

The Aurora was the first steamboat of the year for the Outside, -and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and broken gold -seekers, all equally as mad to get to the Outside as they had been originally -to get to the Inside. Near the gang-plank, Scott was shaking hands -with Matt, who was preparing to go ashore. But Matt’s hand -went limp in the other’s grasp as his gaze shot past and remained -fixed on something behind him. Scott turned to see. Sitting -on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was White Fang.

-

The dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents. Scott -could only look in wonder.

-

“Did you lock the front door?” Matt demanded. The -other nodded, and asked, “How about the back?”

-

“You just bet I did,” was the fervent reply.

-

White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where -he was, making no attempt to approach.

-

“I’ll have to take ’m ashore with me.”

-

Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang, but the latter slid -away from him. The dog-musher made a rush of it, and White Fang -dodged between the legs of a group of men. Ducking, turning, doubling, -he slid about the deck, eluding the other’s efforts to capture -him.

-

But when the love-master spoke, White Fang came to him with prompt -obedience.

-

“Won’t come to the hand that’s fed ’m all -these months,” the dog-musher muttered resentfully. “And -you—you ain’t never fed ’m after them first days of -gettin’ acquainted. I’m blamed if I can see how he -works it out that you’re the boss.”

-

Scott, who had been patting White Fang, suddenly bent closer and -pointed out fresh-made cuts on his muzzle, and a gash between the eyes.

-

Matt bent over and passed his hand along White Fang’s belly.

-

“We plump forgot the window. He’s all cut an’ -gouged underneath. Must ‘a’ butted clean through it, -b’gosh!”

-

But Weedon Scott was not listening. He was thinking rapidly. -The Aurora’s whistle hooted a final announcement of departure. -Men were scurrying down the gang-plank to the shore. Matt loosened -the bandana from his own neck and started to put it around White Fang’s. -Scott grasped the dog-musher’s hand.

-

“Good-bye, Matt, old man. About the wolf—you needn’t -write. You see, I’ve . . . !”

-

“What!” the dog-musher exploded. “You don’t -mean to say . . .?”

-

“The very thing I mean. Here’s your bandana. -I’ll write to you about him.”

-

Matt paused halfway down the gang-plank.

-

“He’ll never stand the climate!” he shouted back. -“Unless you clip ’m in warm weather!”

-

The gang-plank was hauled in, and the Aurora swung out from -the bank. Weedon Scott waved a last good-bye. Then he turned -and bent over White Fang, standing by his side.

-

“Now growl, damn you, growl,” he said, as he patted the -responsive head and rubbed the flattening ears.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIThe Southland

-

White Fang landed from the steamer in San Francisco. He was -appalled. Deep in him, below any reasoning process or act of consciousness, -he had associated power with godhead. And never had the white -men seemed such marvellous gods as now, when he trod the slimy pavement -of San Francisco. The log cabins he had known were replaced by -towering buildings. The streets were crowded with perils—waggons, -carts, automobiles; great, straining horses pulling huge trucks; and -monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and clanging through the midst, -screeching their insistent menace after the manner of the lynxes he -had known in the northern woods.

-

All this was the manifestation of power. Through it all, behind -it all, was man, governing and controlling, expressing himself, as of -old, by his mastery over matter. It was colossal, stunning. -White Fang was awed. Fear sat upon him. As in his cubhood -he had been made to feel his smallness and puniness on the day he first -came in from the Wild to the village of Grey Beaver, so now, in his -full-grown stature and pride of strength, he was made to feel small -and puny. And there were so many gods! He was made dizzy -by the swarming of them. The thunder of the streets smote upon -his ears. He was bewildered by the tremendous and endless rush -and movement of things. As never before, he felt his dependence -on the love-master, close at whose heels he followed, no matter what -happened never losing sight of him.

-

But White Fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the -city—an experience that was like a bad dream, unreal and terrible, -that haunted him for long after in his dreams. He was put into -a baggage-car by the master, chained in a corner in the midst of heaped -trunks and valises. Here a squat and brawny god held sway, with -much noise, hurling trunks and boxes about, dragging them in through -the door and tossing them into the piles, or flinging them out of the -door, smashing and crashing, to other gods who awaited them.

-

And here, in this inferno of luggage, was White Fang deserted by -the master. Or at least White Fang thought he was deserted, until -he smelled out the master’s canvas clothes-bags alongside of him, -and proceeded to mount guard over them.

-

“’Bout time you come,” growled the god of the car, -an hour later, when Weedon Scott appeared at the door. “That -dog of yourn won’t let me lay a finger on your stuff.”

-

White Fang emerged from the car. He was astonished. The -nightmare city was gone. The car had been to him no more than -a room in a house, and when he had entered it the city had been all -around him. In the interval the city had disappeared. The -roar of it no longer dinned upon his ears. Before him was smiling -country, streaming with sunshine, lazy with quietude. But he had -little time to marvel at the transformation. He accepted it as -he accepted all the unaccountable doings and manifestations of the gods. -It was their way.

-

There was a carriage waiting. A man and a woman approached -the master. The woman’s arms went out and clutched the master -around the neck—a hostile act! The next moment Weedon Scott -had torn loose from the embrace and closed with White Fang, who had -become a snarling, raging demon.

-

“It’s all right, mother,” Scott was saying as he -kept tight hold of White Fang and placated him. “He thought -you were going to injure me, and he wouldn’t stand for it. -It’s all right. It’s all right. He’ll -learn soon enough.”

-

“And in the meantime I may be permitted to love my son when -his dog is not around,” she laughed, though she was pale and weak -from the fright.

-

She looked at White Fang, who snarled and bristled and glared malevolently.

-

“He’ll have to learn, and he shall, without postponement,” -Scott said.

-

He spoke softly to White Fang until he had quieted him, then his -voice became firm.

-

“Down, sir! Down with you!”

-

This had been one of the things taught him by the master, and White -Fang obeyed, though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly.

-

“Now, mother.”

-

Scott opened his arms to her, but kept his eyes on White Fang.

-

“Down!” he warned. “Down!”

-

White Fang, bristling silently, half-crouching as he rose, sank back -and watched the hostile act repeated. But no harm came of it, -nor of the embrace from the strange man-god that followed. Then -the clothes-bags were taken into the carriage, the strange gods and -the love-master followed, and White Fang pursued, now running vigilantly -behind, now bristling up to the running horses and warning them that -he was there to see that no harm befell the god they dragged so swiftly -across the earth.

-

At the end of fifteen minutes, the carriage swung in through a stone -gateway and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut -trees. On either side stretched lawns, their broad sweep broken -here and there by great sturdy-limbed oaks. In the near distance, -in contrast with the young-green of the tended grass, sunburnt hay-fields -showed tan and gold; while beyond were the tawny hills and upland pastures. -From the head of the lawn, on the first soft swell from the valley-level, -looked down the deep-porched, many-windowed house.

-

Little opportunity was given White Fang to see all this. Hardly -had the carriage entered the grounds, when he was set upon by a sheep-dog, -bright-eyed, sharp-muzzled, righteously indignant and angry. It -was between him and the master, cutting him off. White Fang snarled -no warning, but his hair bristled as he made his silent and deadly rush. -This rush was never completed. He halted with awkward abruptness, -with stiff fore-legs bracing himself against his momentum, almost sitting -down on his haunches, so desirous was he of avoiding contact with the -dog he was in the act of attacking. It was a female, and the law -of his kind thrust a barrier between. For him to attack her would -require nothing less than a violation of his instinct.

-

But with the sheep-dog it was otherwise. Being a female, she -possessed no such instinct. On the other hand, being a sheep-dog, -her instinctive fear of the Wild, and especially of the wolf, was unusually -keen. White Fang was to her a wolf, the hereditary marauder who -had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep were first herded and -guarded by some dim ancestor of hers. And so, as he abandoned -his rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact, she sprang -upon him. He snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth in his -shoulder, but beyond this made no offer to hurt her. He backed -away, stiff-legged with self-consciousness, and tried to go around her. -He dodged this way and that, and curved and turned, but to no purpose. -She remained always between him and the way he wanted to go.

-

“Here, Collie!” called the strange man in the carriage.

-

Weedon Scott laughed.

-

“Never mind, father. It is good discipline. White -Fang will have to learn many things, and it’s just as well that -he begins now. He’ll adjust himself all right.”

-

The carriage drove on, and still Collie blocked White Fang’s -way. He tried to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling -across the lawn but she ran on the inner and smaller circle, and was -always there, facing him with her two rows of gleaming teeth. -Back he circled, across the drive to the other lawn, and again she headed -him off.

-

The carriage was bearing the master away. White Fang caught -glimpses of it disappearing amongst the trees. The situation was -desperate. He essayed another circle. She followed, running -swiftly. And then, suddenly, he turned upon her. It was -his old fighting trick. Shoulder to shoulder, he struck her squarely. -Not only was she overthrown. So fast had she been running that -she rolled along, now on her back, now on her side, as she struggled -to stop, clawing gravel with her feet and crying shrilly her hurt pride -and indignation.

-

White Fang did not wait. The way was clear, and that was all -he had wanted. She took after him, never ceasing her outcry. -It was the straightaway now, and when it came to real running, White -Fang could teach her things. She ran frantically, hysterically, -straining to the utmost, advertising the effort she was making with -every leap: and all the time White Fang slid smoothly away from her -silently, without effort, gliding like a ghost over the ground.

-

As he rounded the house to the porte-cochère, he came -upon the carriage. It had stopped, and the master was alighting. -At this moment, still running at top speed, White Fang became suddenly -aware of an attack from the side. It was a deer-hound rushing -upon him. White Fang tried to face it. But he was going -too fast, and the hound was too close. It struck him on the side; -and such was his forward momentum and the unexpectedness of it, White -Fang was hurled to the ground and rolled clear over. He came out -of the tangle a spectacle of malignancy, ears flattened back, lips writhing, -nose wrinkling, his teeth clipping together as the fangs barely missed -the hound’s soft throat.

-

The master was running up, but was too far away; and it was Collie -that saved the hound’s life. Before White Fang could spring -in and deliver the fatal stroke, and just as he was in the act of springing -in, Collie arrived. She had been out-manoeuvred and out-run, to -say nothing of her having been unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel, -and her arrival was like that of a tornado—made up of offended -dignity, justifiable wrath, and instinctive hatred for this marauder -from the Wild. She struck White Fang at right angles in the midst -of his spring, and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over.

-

The next moment the master arrived, and with one hand held White -Fang, while the father called off the dogs.

-

“I say, this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf -from the Arctic,” the master said, while White Fang calmed down -under his caressing hand. “In all his life he’s only -been known once to go off his feet, and here he’s been rolled -twice in thirty seconds.”

-

The carriage had driven away, and other strange gods had appeared -from out the house. Some of these stood respectfully at a distance; -but two of them, women, perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the -master around the neck. White Fang, however, was beginning to -tolerate this act. No harm seemed to come of it, while the noises -the gods made were certainly not threatening. These gods also -made overtures to White Fang, but he warned them off with a snarl, and -the master did likewise with word of mouth. At such times White -Fang leaned in close against the master’s legs and received reassuring -pats on the head.

-

The hound, under the command, “Dick! Lie down, sir!” -had gone up the steps and lain down to one side of the porch, still -growling and keeping a sullen watch on the intruder. Collie had -been taken in charge by one of the woman-gods, who held arms around -her neck and petted and caressed her; but Collie was very much perplexed -and worried, whining and restless, outraged by the permitted presence -of this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake.

-

All the gods started up the steps to enter the house. White -Fang followed closely at the master’s heels. Dick, on the -porch, growled, and White Fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back.

-

“Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out,” -suggested Scott’s father. “After that they’ll -be friends.”

-

“Then White Fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief -mourner at the funeral,” laughed the master.

-

The elder Scott looked incredulously, first at White Fang, then at -Dick, and finally at his son.

-

“You mean . . .?”

-

Weedon nodded his head. “I mean just that. You’d -have a dead Dick inside one minute—two minutes at the farthest.”

-

He turned to White Fang. “Come on, you wolf. It’s -you that’ll have to come inside.”

-

White Fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and across the porch, -with tail rigidly erect, keeping his eyes on Dick to guard against a -flank attack, and at the same time prepared for whatever fierce manifestation -of the unknown that might pounce out upon him from the interior of the -house. But no thing of fear pounced out, and when he had gained -the inside he scouted carefully around, looking at it and finding it -not. Then he lay down with a contented grunt at the master’s -feet, observing all that went on, ever ready to spring to his feet and -fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under the trap-roof -of the dwelling.

-
-
-

-Chapter IIIThe God’s Domain

-

Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled -much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, -in Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White -Fang quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further -serious trouble with the dogs. They knew more about the ways of -the Southland gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified when -he accompanied the gods inside the house. Wolf that he was, and -unprecedented as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and they, -the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction.

-

Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, -after which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the premises. -Had Dick had his way, they would have been good friends. All but -White Fang was averse to friendship. All he asked of other dogs -was to be let alone. His whole life he had kept aloof from his -kind, and he still desired to keep aloof. Dick’s overtures -bothered him, so he snarled Dick away. In the north he had learned -the lesson that he must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did -not forget that lesson now. But he insisted on his own privacy -and self-seclusion, and so thoroughly ignored Dick that that good-natured -creature finally gave him up and scarcely took as much interest in him -as in the hitching-post near the stable.

-

Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the -mandate of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in -peace. Woven into her being was the memory of countless crimes -he and his had perpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day -nor a generation were the ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. -All this was a spur to her, pricking her to retaliation. She could -not fly in the face of the gods who permitted him, but that did not -prevent her from making life miserable for him in petty ways. -A feud, ages old, was between them, and she, for one, would see to it -that he was reminded.

-

So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreat -him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while her -persistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed -at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked -away stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he -was compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, -his head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient -and bored expression. Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters -hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. But as -a rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity. -He ignored her existence whenever it was possible, and made it a point -to keep out of her way. When he saw or heard her coming, he got -up and walked off.

-

There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life -in the Northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated -affairs of Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family -of the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah -and Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, -and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the love-master -all the denizens of the house.

-

But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. -Sierra Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. -There were many persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, -and there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, -Beth and Mary. There was his wife, Alice, and then there were -his children, Weedon and Maud, toddlers of four and six. There -was no way for anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties -and relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable -of knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged -to the master. Then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, -by study of action, speech, and the very intonations of the voice, he -slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of favour they enjoyed with -the master. And by this ascertained standard, White Fang treated -them accordingly. What was of value to the master he valued; what -was dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and guarded -carefully.

-

Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked -children. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were -not tender that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days -of the Indian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached -him, he growled warningly and looked malignant. A cuff from the -master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses, -though he growled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl -there was no crooning note. Later, he observed that the boy and -girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Then it was -that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him.

-

Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate. He yielded -to the master’s children with an ill but honest grace, and endured -their fooling as one would endure a painful operation. When he -could no longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly away -from them. But after a time, he grew even to like the children. -Still he was not demonstrative. He would not go up to them. -On the other hand, instead of walking away at sight of them, he waited -for them to come to him. And still later, it was noticed that -a pleased light came into his eyes when he saw them approaching, and -that he looked after them with an appearance of curious regret when -they left him for other amusements.

-

All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in -his regard, after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two -reasons, possibly, for this. First, he was evidently a valuable -possession of the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. -White Fang liked to lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the -newspaper, from time to time favouring White Fang with a look or a word—untroublesome -tokens that he recognised White Fang’s presence and existence. -But this was only when the master was not around. When the master -appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as White Fang was -concerned.

-

White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make -much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. -No caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try -as they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling against -them. This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, -he reserved for the master alone. In fact, he never regarded the -members of the family in any other light than possessions of the love-master.

-

Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family -and the servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, -while he merely refrained from attacking them. This because he -considered that they were likewise possessions of the master. -Between White Fang and them existed a neutrality and no more. -They cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things -just as Matt had done up in the Klondike. They were, in short, -appurtenances of the household.

-

Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. -The master’s domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes -and bounds. The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside -was the common domain of all gods—the roads and streets. -Then inside other fences were the particular domains of other gods. -A myriad laws governed all these things and determined conduct; yet -he did not know the speech of the gods, nor was there any way for him -to learn save by experience. He obeyed his natural impulses until -they ran him counter to some law. When this had been done a few -times, he learned the law and after that observed it.

-

But most potent in his education was the cuff of the master’s -hand, the censure of the master’s voice. Because of White -Fang’s very great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more -than any beating Grey Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. -They had hurt only the flesh of him; beneath the flesh the spirit had -still raged, splendid and invincible. But with the master the -cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. Yet it went deeper. -It was an expression of the master’s disapproval, and White Fang’s -spirit wilted under it.

-

In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master’s -voice was sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right -or not. By it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. -It was the compass by which he steered and learned to chart the manners -of a new land and life.

-

In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. -All other animals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, -lawful spoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged -among the live things for food. It did not enter his head that -in the Southland it was otherwise. But this he was to learn early -in his residence in Santa Clara Valley. Sauntering around the -corner of the house in the early morning, he came upon a chicken that -had escaped from the chicken-yard. White Fang’s natural -impulse was to eat it. A couple of bounds, a flash of teeth and -a frightened squawk, and he had scooped in the adventurous fowl. -It was farm-bred and fat and tender; and White Fang licked his chops -and decided that such fare was good.

-

Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the -stables. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. He did not -know White Fang’s breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. -At the first cut of the whip, White Fang left the chicken for the man. -A club might have stopped White Fang, but not a whip. Silently, -without flinching, he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as -he leaped for the throat the groom cried out, “My God!” -and staggered backward. He dropped the whip and shielded his throat -with his arms. In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to -the bone.

-

The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang’s -ferocity as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still -protecting his throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried -to retreat to the barn. And it would have gone hard with him had -not Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s -life, she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang -in frenzied wrath. She had been right. She had known better -than the blundering gods. All her suspicions were justified. -Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again.

-

The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away before -Collie’s wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled -round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont, -after a decent interval of chastisement. On the contrary, she -grew more excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, White Fang -flung dignity to the winds and frankly fled away from her across the -fields.

-

“He’ll learn to leave chickens alone,” the master -said. “But I can’t give him the lesson until I catch -him in the act.”

-

Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than -the master had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely the -chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, -after they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly -hauled lumber. From there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, -passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. A -moment later he was inside the house, and the slaughter began.

-

In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty white -Leghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. -He whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the -end, with admiration. His eyes were likewise greeted by White -Fang, but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. -He carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved -a deed praiseworthy and meritorious. There was about him no consciousness -of sin. The master’s lips tightened as he faced the disagreeable -task. Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, and in -his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. Also, he held White -Fang’s nose down to the slain hens, and at the same time cuffed -him soundly.

-

White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against -the law, and he had learned it. Then the master took him into -the chicken-yards. White Fang’s natural impulse, when he -saw the live food fluttering about him and under his very nose, was -to spring upon it. He obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the -master’s voice. They continued in the yards for half an -hour. Time and again the impulse surged over White Fang, and each -time, as he yielded to it, he was checked by the master’s voice. -Thus it was he learned the law, and ere he left the domain of the chickens, -he had learned to ignore their existence.

-

“You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott -shook his head sadly at luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson -he had given White Fang. “Once they’ve got the habit -and the taste of blood . . .” Again he shook his head sadly.

-

But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll -tell you what I’ll do,” he challenged finally. “I’ll -lock White Fang in with the chickens all afternoon.”

-

“But think of the chickens,” objected the judge.

-

“And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every -chicken he kills, I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm.”

-

“But you should penalise father, too,” interpose Beth.

-

Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around -the table. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement.

-

“All right.” Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. -“And if, at the end of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t harmed -a chicken, for every ten minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, -you will have to say to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as -if you were sitting on the bench and solemnly passing judgment, ‘White -Fang, you are smarter than I thought.’”

-

From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. -But it was a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted by -the master, White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got -up and walked over to the trough for a drink of water. The chickens -he calmly ignored. So far as he was concerned they did not exist. -At four o’clock he executed a running jump, gained the roof of -the chicken-house and leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered -gravely to the house. He had learned the law. And on the -porch, before the delighted family, Judge Scott, face to face with White -Fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you -are smarter than I thought.”

-

But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and -often brought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must -not touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there -were cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. -In fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was -that he must leave all live things alone. Out in the back-pasture, -a quail could flutter up under his nose unharmed. All tense and -trembling with eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and stood -still. He was obeying the will of the gods.

-

And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start -a jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and -did not interfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the -chase. And thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. -In the end he worked out the complete law. Between him and all -domestic animals there must be no hostilities. If not amity, at -least neutrality must obtain. But the other animals—the -squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who -had never yielded allegiance to man. They were the lawful prey -of any dog. It was only the tame that the gods protected, and -between the tame deadly strife was not permitted. The gods held -the power of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous -of their power.

-

Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities -of the Northland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies -of civilisation was control, restraint—a poise of self that was -as delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time -as rigid as steel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found -he must meet them all—thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, -running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage -stopped. Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually -impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments -and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress -his natural impulses.

-

There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This -meat he must not touch. There were cats at the houses the master -visited that must be let alone. And there were dogs everywhere -that snarled at him and that he must not attack. And then, on -the crowded sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose attention -he attracted. They would stop and look at him, point him out to -one another, examine him, talk of him, and, worst of all, pat him. -And these perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure. -Yet this endurance he achieved. Furthermore, he got over being -awkward and self-conscious. In a lofty way he received the attentions -of the multitudes of strange gods. With condescension he accepted -their condescension. On the other hand, there was something about -him that prevented great familiarity. They patted him on the head -and passed on, contented and pleased with their own daring.

-

But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the -carriage in the outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small -boys who made a practice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew -that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here -he was compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate -it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation.

-

Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. -He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. But there -is a certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense -in him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defence -against the stone-throwers. He forgot that in the covenant entered -into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and -defend him. But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip -in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. After that they -threw stones no more, and White Fang understood and was satisfied.

-

One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way -to town, hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs -that made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. -Knowing his deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing -upon White Fang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having -learned the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed -the cross-roads saloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl -kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping -and bickering and insulting him. This endured for some time. -The men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang. -One day they openly sicked the dogs on him. The master stopped -the carriage.

-

“Go to it,” he said to White Fang.

-

But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, -and he looked at the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly -at the master.

-

The master nodded his head. “Go to them, old fellow. -Eat them up.”

-

White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently -among his enemies. All three faced him. There was a great -snarling and growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. -The dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. -But at the end of several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt -and the third was in full flight. He leaped a ditch, went through -a rail fence, and fled across a field. White Fang followed, sliding -over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without -noise, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog.

-

With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. -The word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs -did not molest the Fighting Wolf.

-
-
-

-Chapter IVThe Call of Kind

-

The months came and went. There was plenty of food and no work -in the Southland, and White Fang lived fat and prosperous and happy. -Not alone was he in the geographical Southland, for he was in the Southland -of life. Human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, and he -flourished like a flower planted in good soil.

-

And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. He knew -the law even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, -and he observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about -him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered -in him and the wolf in him merely slept.

-

He never chummed with other dogs. Lonely he had lived, so far -as his kind was concerned, and lonely he would continue to live. -In his puppyhood, under the persecution of Lip-lip and the puppy-pack, -and in his fighting days with Beauty Smith, he had acquired a fixed -aversion for dogs. The natural course of his life had been diverted, -and, recoiling from his kind, he had clung to the human.

-

Besides, all Southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion. -He aroused in them their instinctive fear of the Wild, and they greeted -him always with snarl and growl and belligerent hatred. He, on -the other hand, learned that it was not necessary to use his teeth upon -them. His naked fangs and writhing lips were uniformly efficacious, -rarely failing to send a bellowing on-rushing dog back on its haunches.

-

But there was one trial in White Fang’s life—Collie. -She never gave him a moment’s peace. She was not so amenable -to the law as he. She defied all efforts of the master to make -her become friends with White Fang. Ever in his ears was sounding -her sharp and nervous snarl. She had never forgiven him the chicken-killing -episode, and persistently held to the belief that his intentions were -bad. She found him guilty before the act, and treated him accordingly. -She became a pest to him, like a policeman following him around the -stable and the hounds, and, if he even so much as glanced curiously -at a pigeon or chicken, bursting into an outcry of indignation and wrath. -His favourite way of ignoring her was to lie down, with his head on -his fore-paws, and pretend sleep. This always dumfounded and silenced -her.

-

With the exception of Collie, all things went well with White Fang. -He had learned control and poise, and he knew the law. He achieved -a staidness, and calmness, and philosophic tolerance. He no longer -lived in a hostile environment. Danger and hurt and death did -not lurk everywhere about him. In time, the unknown, as a thing -of terror and menace ever impending, faded away. Life was soft -and easy. It flowed along smoothly, and neither fear nor foe lurked -by the way.

-

He missed the snow without being aware of it. “An unduly -long summer,” would have been his thought had he thought about -it; as it was, he merely missed the snow in a vague, subconscious way. -In the same fashion, especially in the heat of summer when he suffered -from the sun, he experienced faint longings for the Northland. -Their only effect upon him, however, was to make him uneasy and restless -without his knowing what was the matter.

-

White Fang had never been very demonstrative. Beyond his snuggling -and the throwing of a crooning note into his love-growl, he had no way -of expressing his love. Yet it was given him to discover a third -way. He had always been susceptible to the laughter of the gods. -Laughter had affected him with madness, made him frantic with rage. -But he did not have it in him to be angry with the love-master, and -when that god elected to laugh at him in a good-natured, bantering way, -he was nonplussed. He could feel the pricking and stinging of -the old anger as it strove to rise up in him, but it strove against -love. He could not be angry; yet he had to do something. -At first he was dignified, and the master laughed the harder. -Then he tried to be more dignified, and the master laughed harder than -before. In the end, the master laughed him out of his dignity. -His jaws slightly parted, his lips lifted a little, and a quizzical -expression that was more love than humour came into his eyes. -He had learned to laugh.

-

Likewise he learned to romp with the master, to be tumbled down and -rolled over, and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks. In -return he feigned anger, bristling and growling ferociously, and clipping -his teeth together in snaps that had all the seeming of deadly intention. -But he never forgot himself. Those snaps were always delivered -on the empty air. At the end of such a romp, when blow and cuff -and snap and snarl were last and furious, they would break off suddenly -and stand several feet apart, glaring at each other. And then, -just as suddenly, like the sun rising on a stormy sea, they would begin -to laugh. This would always culminate with the master’s -arms going around White Fang’s neck and shoulders while the latter -crooned and growled his love-song.

-

But nobody else ever romped with White Fang. He did not permit -it. He stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning -snarl and bristling mane were anything but playful. That he allowed -the master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common -dog, loving here and loving there, everybody’s property for a -romp and good time. He loved with single heart and refused to -cheapen himself or his love.

-

The master went out on horseback a great deal, and to accompany him -was one of White Fang’s chief duties in life. In the Northland -he had evidenced his fealty by toiling in the harness; but there were -no sleds in the Southland, nor did dogs pack burdens on their backs. -So he rendered fealty in the new way, by running with the master’s -horse. The longest day never played White Fang out. His -was the gait of the wolf, smooth, tireless and effortless, and at the -end of fifty miles he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse.

-

It was in connection with the riding, that White Fang achieved one -other mode of expression—remarkable in that he did it but twice -in all his life. The first time occurred when the master was trying -to teach a spirited thoroughbred the method of opening and closing gates -without the rider’s dismounting. Time and again and many -times he ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to close it and -each time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away. -It grew more nervous and excited every moment. When it reared, -the master put the spurs to it and made it drop its fore-legs back to -earth, whereupon it would begin kicking with its hind-legs. White -Fang watched the performance with increasing anxiety until he could -contain himself no longer, when he sprang in front of the horse and -barked savagely and warningly.

-

Though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged -him, he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master’s -presence. A scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly -under the horse’s feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to -earth, and a broken leg for the master, was the cause of it. White -Fang sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending horse, but was -checked by the master’s voice.

-

“Home! Go home!” the master commanded when he had -ascertained his injury.

-

White Fang was disinclined to desert him. The master thought -of writing a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper. -Again he commanded White Fang to go home.

-

The latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and -whined softly. The master talked to him gently but seriously, -and he cocked his ears, and listened with painful intentness.

-

“That’s all right, old fellow, you just run along home,” -ran the talk. “Go on home and tell them what’s happened -to me. Home with you, you wolf. Get along home!”

-

White Fang knew the meaning of “home,” and though he -did not understand the remainder of the master’s language, he -knew it was his will that he should go home. He turned and trotted -reluctantly away. Then he stopped, undecided, and looked back -over his shoulder.

-

“Go home!” came the sharp command, and this time he obeyed.

-

The family was on the porch, taking the cool of the afternoon, when -White Fang arrived. He came in among them, panting, covered with -dust.

-

“Weedon’s back,” Weedon’s mother announced.

-

The children welcomed White Fang with glad cries and ran to meet -him. He avoided them and passed down the porch, but they cornered -him against a rocking-chair and the railing. He growled and tried -to push by them. Their mother looked apprehensively in their direction.

-

“I confess, he makes me nervous around the children,” -she said. “I have a dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly -some day.”

-

Growling savagely, White Fang sprang out of the corner, overturning -the boy and the girl. The mother called them to her and comforted -them, telling them not to bother White Fang.

-

“A wolf is a wolf!” commented Judge Scott. “There -is no trusting one.”

-

“But he is not all wolf,” interposed Beth, standing for -her brother in his absence.

-

“You have only Weedon’s opinion for that,” rejoined -the judge. “He merely surmises that there is some strain -of dog in White Fang; but as he will tell you himself, he knows nothing -about it. As for his appearance—”

-

He did not finish his sentence. White Fang stood before him, -growling fiercely.

-

“Go away! Lie down, sir!” Judge Scott commanded.

-

White Fang turned to the love-master’s wife. She screamed -with fright as he seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till -the frail fabric tore away. By this time he had become the centre -of interest.

-

He had ceased from his growling and stood, head up, looking into -their faces. His throat worked spasmodically, but made no sound, -while he struggled with all his body, convulsed with the effort to rid -himself of the incommunicable something that strained for utterance.

-

“I hope he is not going mad,” said Weedon’s mother. -“I told Weedon that I was afraid the warm climate would not agree -with an Arctic animal.”

-

“He’s trying to speak, I do believe,” Beth announced.

-

At this moment speech came to White Fang, rushing up in a great burst -of barking.

-

“Something has happened to Weedon,” his wife said decisively.

-

They were all on their feet now, and White Fang ran down the steps, -looking back for them to follow. For the second and last time -in his life he had barked and made himself understood.

-

After this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the Sierra -Vista people, and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted that -he was a wise dog even if he was a wolf. Judge Scott still held -to the same opinion, and proved it to everybody’s dissatisfaction -by measurements and descriptions taken from the encyclopaedia and various -works on natural history.

-

The days came and went, streaming their unbroken sunshine over the -Santa Clara Valley. But as they grew shorter and White Fang’s -second winter in the Southland came on, he made a strange discovery. -Collie’s teeth were no longer sharp. There was a playfulness -about her nips and a gentleness that prevented them from really hurting -him. He forgot that she had made life a burden to him, and when -she disported herself around him he responded solemnly, striving to -be playful and becoming no more than ridiculous.

-

One day she led him off on a long chase through the back-pasture -land into the woods. It was the afternoon that the master was -to ride, and White Fang knew it. The horse stood saddled and waiting -at the door. White Fang hesitated. But there was that in -him deeper than all the law he had learned, than the customs that had -moulded him, than his love for the master, than the very will to live -of himself; and when, in the moment of his indecision, Collie nipped -him and scampered off, he turned and followed after. The master -rode alone that day; and in the woods, side by side, White Fang ran -with Collie, as his mother, Kiche, and old One Eye had run long years -before in the silent Northland forest.

-
-
-

-Chapter VThe Sleeping Wolf

-

It was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring -escape of a convict from San Quentin prison. He was a ferocious -man. He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been -born right, and he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received -at the hands of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this -man was a striking sample of its handiwork. He was a beast—a -human beast, it is true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he -can best be characterised as carnivorous.

-

In San Quentin prison he had proved incorrigible. Punishment -failed to break his spirit. He could die dumb-mad and fighting -to the last, but he could not live and be beaten. The more fiercely -he fought, the more harshly society handled him, and the only effect -of harshness was to make him fiercer. Strait-jackets, starvation, -and beatings and clubbings were the wrong treatment for Jim Hall; but -it was the treatment he received. It was the treatment he had -received from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a San Francisco -slum—soft clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed -into something.

-

It was during Jim Hall’s third term in prison that he encountered -a guard that was almost as great a beast as he. The guard treated -him unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost his credits, persecuted -him. The difference between them was that the guard carried a -bunch of keys and a revolver. Jim Hall had only his naked hands -and his teeth. But he sprang upon the guard one day and used his -teeth on the other’s throat just like any jungle animal.

-

After this, Jim Hall went to live in the incorrigible cell. -He lived there three years. The cell was of iron, the floor, the -walls, the roof. He never left this cell. He never saw the -sky nor the sunshine. Day was a twilight and night was a black -silence. He was in an iron tomb, buried alive. He saw no -human face, spoke to no human thing. When his food was shoved -in to him, he growled like a wild animal. He hated all things. -For days and nights he bellowed his rage at the universe. For -weeks and months he never made a sound, in the black silence eating -his very soul. He was a man and a monstrosity, as fearful a thing -of fear as ever gibbered in the visions of a maddened brain.

-

And then, one night, he escaped. The warders said it was impossible, -but nevertheless the cell was empty, and half in half out of it lay -the body of a dead guard. Two other dead guards marked his trail -through the prison to the outer walls, and he had killed with his hands -to avoid noise.

-

He was armed with the weapons of the slain guards—a live arsenal -that fled through the hills pursued by the organised might of society. -A heavy price of gold was upon his head. Avaricious farmers hunted -him with shot-guns. His blood might pay off a mortgage or send -a son to college. Public-spirited citizens took down their rifles -and went out after him. A pack of bloodhounds followed the way -of his bleeding feet. And the sleuth-hounds of the law, the paid -fighting animals of society, with telephone, and telegraph, and special -train, clung to his trail night and day.

-

Sometimes they came upon him, and men faced him like heroes, or stampeded -through barbed-wire fences to the delight of the commonwealth reading -the account at the breakfast table. It was after such encounters -that the dead and wounded were carted back to the towns, and their places -filled by men eager for the man-hunt.

-

And then Jim Hall disappeared. The bloodhounds vainly quested -on the lost trail. Inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were -held up by armed men and compelled to identify themselves. While -the remains of Jim Hall were discovered on a dozen mountain-sides by -greedy claimants for blood-money.

-

In the meantime the newspapers were read at Sierra Vista, not so -much with interest as with anxiety. The women were afraid. -Judge Scott pooh-poohed and laughed, but not with reason, for it was -in his last days on the bench that Jim Hall had stood before him and -received sentence. And in open court-room, before all men, Jim -Hall had proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak vengeance -on the Judge that sentenced him.

-

For once, Jim Hall was right. He was innocent of the crime -for which he was sentenced. It was a case, in the parlance of -thieves and police, of “rail-roading.” Jim Hall was -being “rail-roaded” to prison for a crime he had not committed. -Because of the two prior convictions against him, Judge Scott imposed -upon him a sentence of fifty years.

-

Judge Scott did not know all things, and he did not know that he -was party to a police conspiracy, that the evidence was hatched and -perjured, that Jim Hall was guiltless of the crime charged. And -Jim Hall, on the other hand, did not know that Judge Scott was merely -ignorant. Jim Hall believed that the judge knew all about it and -was hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of the monstrous -injustice. So it was, when the doom of fifty years of living death -was uttered by Judge Scott, that Jim Hall, hating all things in the -society that misused him, rose up and raged in the court-room until -dragged down by half a dozen of his blue-coated enemies. To him, -Judge Scott was the keystone in the arch of injustice, and upon Judge -Scott he emptied the vials of his wrath and hurled the threats of his -revenge yet to come. Then Jim Hall went to his living death . -. . and escaped.

-

Of all this White Fang knew nothing. But between him and Alice, -the master’s wife, there existed a secret. Each night, after -Sierra Vista had gone to bed, she rose and let in White Fang to sleep -in the big hall. Now White Fang was not a house-dog, nor was he -permitted to sleep in the house; so each morning, early, she slipped -down and let him out before the family was awake.

-

On one such night, while all the house slept, White Fang awoke and -lay very quietly. And very quietly he smelled the air and read -the message it bore of a strange god’s presence. And to -his ears came sounds of the strange god’s movements. White -Fang burst into no furious outcry. It was not his way. The -strange god walked softly, but more softly walked White Fang, for he -had no clothes to rub against the flesh of his body. He followed -silently. In the Wild he had hunted live meat that was infinitely -timid, and he knew the advantage of surprise.

-

The strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and listened, -and White Fang was as dead, so without movement was he as he watched -and waited. Up that staircase the way led to the love-master and -to the love-master’s dearest possessions. White Fang bristled, -but waited. The strange god’s foot lifted. He was -beginning the ascent.

-

Then it was that White Fang struck. He gave no warning, with -no snarl anticipated his own action. Into the air he lifted his -body in the spring that landed him on the strange god’s back. -White Fang clung with his fore-paws to the man’s shoulders, at -the same time burying his fangs into the back of the man’s neck. -He clung on for a moment, long enough to drag the god over backward. -Together they crashed to the floor. White Fang leaped clear, and, -as the man struggled to rise, was in again with the slashing fangs.

-

Sierra Vista awoke in alarm. The noise from downstairs was -as that of a score of battling fiends. There were revolver shots. -A man’s voice screamed once in horror and anguish. There -was a great snarling and growling, and over all arose a smashing and -crashing of furniture and glass.

-

But almost as quickly as it had arisen, the commotion died away. -The struggle had not lasted more than three minutes. The frightened -household clustered at the top of the stairway. From below, as -from out an abyss of blackness, came up a gurgling sound, as of air -bubbling through water. Sometimes this gurgle became sibilant, -almost a whistle. But this, too, quickly died down and ceased. -Then naught came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of some -creature struggling sorely for air.

-

Weedon Scott pressed a button, and the staircase and downstairs hall -were flooded with light. Then he and Judge Scott, revolvers in -hand, cautiously descended. There was no need for this caution. -White Fang had done his work. In the midst of the wreckage of -overthrown and smashed furniture, partly on his side, his face hidden -by an arm, lay a man. Weedon Scott bent over, removed the arm -and turned the man’s face upward. A gaping throat explained -the manner of his death.

-

“Jim Hall,” said Judge Scott, and father and son looked -significantly at each other.

-

Then they turned to White Fang. He, too, was lying on his side. -His eyes were closed, but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look -at them as they bent over him, and the tail was perceptibly agitated -in a vain effort to wag. Weedon Scott patted him, and his throat -rumbled an acknowledging growl. But it was a weak growl at best, -and it quickly ceased. His eyelids drooped and went shut, and -his whole body seemed to relax and flatten out upon the floor.

-

“He’s all in, poor devil,” muttered the master.

-

“We’ll see about that,” asserted the Judge, as -he started for the telephone.

-

“Frankly, he has one chance in a thousand,” announced -the surgeon, after he had worked an hour and a half on White Fang.

-

Dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric lights. -With the exception of the children, the whole family was gathered about -the surgeon to hear his verdict.

-

“One broken hind-leg,” he went on. “Three -broken ribs, one at least of which has pierced the lungs. He has -lost nearly all the blood in his body. There is a large likelihood -of internal injuries. He must have been jumped upon. To -say nothing of three bullet holes clear through him. One chance -in a thousand is really optimistic. He hasn’t a chance in -ten thousand.”

-

“But he mustn’t lose any chance that might be of help -to him,” Judge Scott exclaimed. “Never mind expense. -Put him under the X-ray—anything. Weedon, telegraph at once -to San Francisco for Doctor Nichols. No reflection on you, doctor, -you understand; but he must have the advantage of every chance.”

-

The surgeon smiled indulgently. “Of course I understand. -He deserves all that can be done for him. He must be nursed as -you would nurse a human being, a sick child. And don’t forget -what I told you about temperature. I’ll be back at ten o’clock -again.”

-

White Fang received the nursing. Judge Scott’s suggestion -of a trained nurse was indignantly clamoured down by the girls, who -themselves undertook the task. And White Fang won out on the one -chance in ten thousand denied him by the surgeon.

-

The latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment. All -his life he had tended and operated on the soft humans of civilisation, -who lived sheltered lives and had descended out of many sheltered generations. -Compared with White Fang, they were frail and flabby, and clutched life -without any strength in their grip. White Fang had come straight -from the Wild, where the weak perish early and shelter is vouchsafed -to none. In neither his father nor his mother was there any weakness, -nor in the generations before them. A constitution of iron and -the vitality of the Wild were White Fang’s inheritance, and he -clung to life, the whole of him and every part of him, in spirit and -in flesh, with the tenacity that of old belonged to all creatures.

-

Bound down a prisoner, denied even movement by the plaster casts -and bandages, White Fang lingered out the weeks. He slept long -hours and dreamed much, and through his mind passed an unending pageant -of Northland visions. All the ghosts of the past arose and were -with him. Once again he lived in the lair with Kiche, crept trembling -to the knees of Grey Beaver to tender his allegiance, ran for his life -before Lip-lip and all the howling bedlam of the puppy-pack.

-

He ran again through the silence, hunting his living food through -the months of famine; and again he ran at the head of the team, the -gut-whips of Mit-sah and Grey Beaver snapping behind, their voices crying -“Ra! Raa!” when they came to a narrow passage and the team -closed together like a fan to go through. He lived again all his -days with Beauty Smith and the fights he had fought. At such times -he whimpered and snarled in his sleep, and they that looked on said -that his dreams were bad.

-

But there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered—the -clanking, clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him colossal -screaming lynxes. He would lie in a screen of bushes, watching -for a squirrel to venture far enough out on the ground from its tree-refuge. -Then, when he sprang out upon it, it would transform itself into an -electric car, menacing and terrible, towering over him like a mountain, -screaming and clanging and spitting fire at him. It was the same -when he challenged the hawk down out of the sky. Down out of the -blue it would rush, as it dropped upon him changing itself into the -ubiquitous electric car. Or again, he would be in the pen of Beauty -Smith. Outside the pen, men would be gathering, and he knew that -a fight was on. He watched the door for his antagonist to enter. -The door would open, and thrust in upon him would come the awful electric -car. A thousand times this occurred, and each time the terror -it inspired was as vivid and great as ever.

-

Then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast -were taken off. It was a gala day. All Sierra Vista was -gathered around. The master rubbed his ears, and he crooned his -love-growl. The master’s wife called him the “Blessed -Wolf,” which name was taken up with acclaim and all the women -called him the Blessed Wolf.

-

He tried to rise to his feet, and after several attempts fell down -from weakness. He had lain so long that his muscles had lost their -cunning, and all the strength had gone out of them. He felt a -little shame because of his weakness, as though, forsooth, he were failing -the gods in the service he owed them. Because of this he made -heroic efforts to arise and at last he stood on his four legs, tottering -and swaying back and forth.

-

“The Blessed Wolf!” chorused the women.

-

Judge Scott surveyed them triumphantly.

-

“Out of your own mouths be it,” he said. “Just -as I contended right along. No mere dog could have done what he -did. He’s a wolf.”

-

“A Blessed Wolf,” amended the Judge’s wife.

-

“Yes, Blessed Wolf,” agreed the Judge. “And -henceforth that shall be my name for him.”

-

“He’ll have to learn to walk again,” said the surgeon; -“so he might as well start in right now. It won’t -hurt him. Take him outside.”

-

And outside he went, like a king, with all Sierra Vista about him -and tending on him. He was very weak, and when he reached the -lawn he lay down and rested for a while.

-

Then the procession started on, little spurts of strength coming -into White Fang’s muscles as he used them and the blood began -to surge through them. The stables were reached, and there in -the doorway, lay Collie, a half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her -in the sun.

-

White Fang looked on with a wondering eye. Collie snarled warningly -at him, and he was careful to keep his distance. The master with -his toe helped one sprawling puppy toward him. He bristled suspiciously, -but the master warned him that all was well. Collie, clasped in -the arms of one of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl -warned him that all was not well.

-

The puppy sprawled in front of him. He cocked his ears and -watched it curiously. Then their noses touched, and he felt the -warm little tongue of the puppy on his jowl. White Fang’s -tongue went out, he knew not why, and he licked the puppy’s face.

-

Hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance. -He was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. Then his -weakness asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, his head -on one side, as he watched the puppy. The other puppies came sprawling -toward him, to Collie’s great disgust; and he gravely permitted -them to clamber and tumble over him. At first, amid the applause -of the gods, he betrayed a trifle of his old self-consciousness and -awkwardness. This passed away as the puppies’ antics and -mauling continued, and he lay with half-shut patient eyes, drowsing -in the sun.

-
-
-
- diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.html deleted file mode 100644 index eb1c32d..0000000 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/Sherlock.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15091 +0,0 @@ - - - - - The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - - - - -
-

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

-
by
-
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
-
-
-
- This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost - no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at - www.gutenberg.net -

- Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez -

-
-
- -
-
-

- Adventure I A Scandal in Bohemia -

-
-

I.

-

- To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom - heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses - and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any - emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one - particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably - balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and - observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would - have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the - softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable - things for the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s - motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such - intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was - to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all - his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in - one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than - a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one - woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious - and questionable memory. -

-

- I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away - from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred - interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself - master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my - attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his - whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, - buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week - between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the - fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply - attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties - and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those - clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as - hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some - vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of - the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of - the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission - which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the - reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, - however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily - press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. -

-

- One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning - from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil - practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the - well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind - with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, - I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how - he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were - brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare - figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was - pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest - and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and - habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work - again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon - the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to - the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. -

-

- His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I - think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, - he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and - indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood - before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective - fashion. -

-

- “Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have - put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.” -

-

- “Seven!” I answered. -

-

- “Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I - fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me - that you intended to go into harness.” -

-

- “Then, how do you know?” -

-

- “I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting - yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and - careless servant girl?” -

-

- “My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly - have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that - I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, - but as I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. - As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her - notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.” -

-

- He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. -

-

- “It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the - inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the - leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have - been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the - edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you - see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and - that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the - London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my - rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver - upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his - top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be - dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of - the medical profession.” -

-

- I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his - process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I - remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously - simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive - instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your - process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.” -

-

- “Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself - down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The - distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the - steps which lead up from the hall to this room.” -

-

- “Frequently.” -

-

- “How often?” -

-

- “Well, some hundreds of times.” -

-

- “Then how many are there?” -

-

- “How many? I don’t know.” -

-

- “Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is - just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I - have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in - these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle - one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in - this.” He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which - had been lying open upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said - he. “Read it aloud.” -

-

- The note was undated, and without either signature or address. -

-

- “There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” - it said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of - the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal - houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be - trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be - exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. - Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if - your visitor wear a mask.” -

-

- “This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it - means?” -

-

- “I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one - has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, - instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you - deduce from it?” -

-

- I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was - written. -

-

- “The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, - endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could - not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong - and stiff.” -

-

- “Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English - paper at all. Hold it up to the light.” -

-

- I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large - “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. -

-

- “What do you make of that?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.” -

-

- “Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’ - which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary contraction - like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now for the - ‘Eg.’ Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.” He took down a - heavy brown volume from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, - Egria. It is in a German-speaking country—in Bohemia, not far from - Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable as being the scene of the death of - Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.’ - Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he - sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. -

-

- “The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said. -

-

- “Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note - the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we - have from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not - have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his - verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by - this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a - mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, - to resolve all our doubts.” -

-

- As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and grating - wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. - Holmes whistled. -

-

- “A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out - of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A - hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case, - Watson, if there is nothing else.” -

-

- “I think that I had better go, Holmes.” -

-

- “Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my - Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to - miss it.” -

-

- “But your client—” -

-

- “Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. - Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention.” -

-

- A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in - the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a - loud and authoritative tap. -

-

- “Come in!” said Holmes. -

-

- A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six - inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress - was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as - akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the - sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue - cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with - flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which - consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up - his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, - completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by - his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, - while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past - the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently - adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he - entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of - strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight - chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. -

-

- “You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly - marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked from - one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. -

-

- “Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, - Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. - Whom have I the honour to address?” -

-

- “You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I - understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and - discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme - importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you - alone.” -

-

- I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back - into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before - this gentleman anything which you may say to me.” -

-

- The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said - he, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the - end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it - is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an - influence upon European history.” -

-

- “I promise,” said Holmes. -

-

- “And I.” -

-

- “You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The - august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, - and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called - myself is not exactly my own.” -

-

- “I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly. -

-

- “The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has - to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and - seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To - speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, - hereditary kings of Bohemia.” -

-

- “I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down - in his armchair and closing his eyes. -

-

- Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, - lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as - the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. - Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his - gigantic client. -

-

- “If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, - “I should be better able to advise you.” -

-

- The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in - uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he - tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You are - right,” he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal - it?” -

-

- “Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken before - I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von - Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of - Bohemia.” -

-

- “But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down - once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you - can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my - own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide - it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come - incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.” -

-

- “Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. -

-

- “The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy - visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known - adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.” -

-

- “Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without - opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of - docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was - difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at - once furnish information. In this case I found her biography - sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a - staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea - fishes. -

-

- “Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year - 1858. Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of - Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in London—quite - so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young - person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of - getting those letters back.” -

-

- “Precisely so. But how—” -

-

- “Was there a secret marriage?” -

-

- “None.” -

-

- “No legal papers or certificates?” -

-

- “None.” -

-

- “Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should - produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she - to prove their authenticity?” -

-

- “There is the writing.” -

-

- “Pooh, pooh! Forgery.” -

-

- “My private note-paper.” -

-

- “Stolen.” -

-

- “My own seal.” -

-

- “Imitated.” -

-

- “My photograph.” -

-

- “Bought.” -

-

- “We were both in the photograph.” -

-

- “Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an - indiscretion.” -

-

- “I was mad—insane.” -

-

- “You have compromised yourself seriously.” -

-

- “I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.” -

-

- “It must be recovered.” -

-

- “We have tried and failed.” -

-

- “Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.” -

-

- “She will not sell.” -

-

- “Stolen, then.” -

-

- “Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked - her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice - she has been waylaid. There has been no result.” -

-

- “No sign of it?” -

-

- “Absolutely none.” -

-

- Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he. -

-

- “But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully. -

-

- “Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?” -

-

- “To ruin me.” -

-

- “But how?” -

-

- “I am about to be married.” -

-

- “So I have heard.” -

-

- “To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King - of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. - She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to - my conduct would bring the matter to an end.” -

-

- “And Irene Adler?” -

-

- “Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know - that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of - steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind - of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another - woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go—none.” -

-

- “You are sure that she has not sent it yet?” -

-

- “I am sure.” -

-

- “And why?” -

-

- “Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the - betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.” -

-

- “Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is - very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look - into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London - for the present?” -

-

- “Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the - Count Von Kramm.” -

-

- “Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.” -

-

- “Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.” -

-

- “Then, as to money?” -

-

“You have carte blanche.”

-

- “Absolutely?” -

-

- “I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to - have that photograph.” -

-

- “And for present expenses?” -

-

- The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and - laid it on the table. -

-

- “There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” - he said. -

-

- Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed - it to him. -

-

- “And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked. -

-

- “Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.” -

-

- Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the - photograph a cabinet?” -

-

- “It was.” -

-

- “Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have - some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the - wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If you will be - good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock I should - like to chat this little matter over with you.” -

-
-
-

II.

-

- At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not - yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house - shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down beside the - fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he - might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, - though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features - which were associated with the two crimes which I have already - recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of - his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the - nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was - something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, - incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his - system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he - disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to - his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had - ceased to enter into my head. -

-

- It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking - groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and - disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to - my friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look - three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod - he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes - tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his - pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed - heartily for some minutes. -

-

- “Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until - he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. -

-

- “What is it?” -

-

- “It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I - employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.” -

-

- “I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, - and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” -

-

- “Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, - however. I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning - in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful - sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you - will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It - is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in - front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. - Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long - windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window - fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing - remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the - top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely - from every point of view, but without noting anything else of - interest. -

-

- “I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there - was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I - lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received - in exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag - tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, - to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in - whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was - compelled to listen to.” -

-

- “And what of Irene Adler?” I asked. -

-

- “Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is - the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the - Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, - drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. - Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one - male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and - dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a - Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a - cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from - Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all - they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once - more, and to think over my plan of campaign. -

-

- “This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the - matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation - between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she - his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had - probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, - it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I - should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the - gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it - widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these - details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you - are to understand the situation.” -

-

- “I am following you closely,” I answered. -

-

- “I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove - up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably - handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of - whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the - cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with - the air of a man who was thoroughly at home. -

-

- “He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses - of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, - talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. - Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he - stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and - looked at it earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first - to Gross & Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of - St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in - twenty minutes!’ -

-

- “Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do - well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the - coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his - ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the - buckles. It hadn’t pulled up before she shot out of the hall door - and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she - was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. -

-

- “ ‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign - if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ -

-

- “This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing - whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her - landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice - at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The - Church of St. Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it - in twenty minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of - course it was clear enough what was in the wind. -

-

- “My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the - others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their - steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the - man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the - two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be - expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in - front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler - who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three - at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as - hard as he could towards me. -

-

- “ ‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’ -

-

- “ ‘What then?’ I asked. -

-

- “ ‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’ -

-

- “I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I - found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and - vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting - in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, - bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman - thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the - clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous - position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the - thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there - had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman - absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and - that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally - out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a - sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the - occasion.” -

-

- “This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what - then?” -

-

- “Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the - pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very - prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, - however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to - her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she - said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different - directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements.” -

-

- “Which are?” -

-

- “Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. - “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier - still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your - co-operation.” -

-

- “I shall be delighted.” -

-

- “You don’t mind breaking the law?” -

-

- “Not in the least.” -

-

- “Nor running a chance of arrest?” -

-

- “Not in a good cause.” -

-

- “Oh, the cause is excellent!” -

-

- “Then I am your man.” -

-

- “I was sure that I might rely on you.” -

-

- “But what is it you wish?” -

-

- “When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to - you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our - landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have - not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the - scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her - drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” -

-

- “And what then?” -

-

- “You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to - occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not - interfere, come what may. You understand?” -

-

- “I am to be neutral?” -

-

- “To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small - unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed - into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room - window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open - window.” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I - give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of - fire. You quite follow me?” -

-

- “Entirely.” -

-

- “It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped - roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, - fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task - is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be - taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end - of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I - have made myself clear?” -

-

- “I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and - at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of - fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.” -

-

- “Precisely.” -

-

- “Then you may entirely rely on me.” -

-

- “That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I - prepare for the new role I have to play.” -

-

- He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the - character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. - His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his - sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent - curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It - was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his - manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he - assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute - reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. -

-

- It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still - wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine - Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted - as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the - coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it - from Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, but the locality - appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a - small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. - There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a - corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were - flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who - were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. -

-

- “You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the - house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph - becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be - as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is - to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, - Where are we to find the photograph?” -

-

- “Where, indeed?” -

-

- “It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is - cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s dress. - She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and - searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may - take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her.” -

-

- “Where, then?” -

-

- “Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I - am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and - they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to - anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not - tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear - upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use - it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon - it. It must be in her own house.” -

-

- “But it has twice been burgled.” -

-

- “Pshaw! They did not know how to look.” -

-

- “But how will you look?” -

-

- “I will not look.” -

-

- “What then?” -

-

- “I will get her to show me.” -

-

- “But she will refuse.” -

-

- “She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her - carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” -

-

- As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the - curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up - to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men - at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning - a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up - with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was - increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the - loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the - other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had - stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of - flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with - their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the - lady; but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the - ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the - guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in - the other, while a number of better dressed people, who had watched - the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady - and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call - her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her - superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back - into the street. -

-

- “Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked. -

-

- “He is dead,” cried several voices. -

-

- “No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone - before you can get him to hospital.” -

-

- “He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s - purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a - rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.” -

-

- “He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?” -

-

- “Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable - sofa. This way, please!” -

-

- Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in - the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my - post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not - been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I - do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment - for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more - heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful - creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness - with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the - blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he - had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket - from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. - We are but preventing her from injuring another. -

-

- Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man - who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the - window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the - signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The - word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of - spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant - maids—joined in a general shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke - curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a - glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes - from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping - through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the - street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend’s arm in - mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly - and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of - the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. -

-

- “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have - been better. It is all right.” -

-

- “You have the photograph?” -

-

- “I know where it is.” -

-

- “And how did you find out?” -

-

- “She showed me, as I told you she would.” -

-

- “I am still in the dark.” -

-

- “I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter - was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the - street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” -

-

- “I guessed as much.” -

-

- “Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the - palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my - face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” -

-

- “That also I could fathom.” -

-

- “Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else - could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room - which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was - determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for - air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your - chance.” -

-

- “How did that help you?” -

-

- “It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on - fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values - most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than - once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington - Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth - Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one - reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of - to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we - are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was - admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves - of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess - behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there - in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half drew it out. - When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced - at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. - I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated - whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the - coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed - safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” -

-

- “And now?” I asked. -

-

- “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King - to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be - shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable - that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It - might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own - hands.” -

-

- “And when will you call?” -

-

- “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have - a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may - mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the - King without delay.” -

-

- We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was - searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: -

-

- “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” -

-

- There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the - greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had - hurried by. -

-

- “I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly - lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.” -

-
-
-

III.

-

- I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our - toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into - the room. -

-

- “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by - either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. -

-

- “Not yet.” -

-

- “But you have hopes?” -

-

- “I have hopes.” -

-

- “Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.” -

-

- “We must have a cab.” -

-

- “No, my brougham is waiting.” -

-

- “Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once - more for Briony Lodge. -

-

- “Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes. -

-

- “Married! When?” -

-

- “Yesterday.” -

-

- “But to whom?” -

-

- “To an English lawyer named Norton.” -

-

- “But she could not love him.” -

-

- “I am in hopes that she does.” -

-

- “And why in hopes?” -

-

- “Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. - If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If - she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should - interfere with your Majesty’s plan.” -

-

- “It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own station! - What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody silence, - which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. -

-

- The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon - the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the - brougham. -

-

- “Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she. -

-

- “I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a - questioning and rather startled gaze. -

-

- “Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left - this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross - for the Continent.” -

-

- “What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and - surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?” -

-

- “Never to return.” -

-

- “And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.” -

-

- “We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the - drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was - scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open - drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her - flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding - shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a - letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, - the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left - till called for.” My friend tore it open, and we all three read it - together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in - this way: -

-
-

- MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You took - me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a - suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I - began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had - been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly - be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, - you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became - suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old - clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress - myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage - of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch - you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, - and came down just as you departed. -

-

- Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was - really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock - Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and - started for the Temple to see my husband. -

-

- We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so - formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you - call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in - peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may - do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly - wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a - weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might - take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to - possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, -

-
-
- “Very truly yours, “IRENE NORTON, née ADLER.” -
-

- “What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we - had all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and - resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it - not a pity that she was not on my level?” -

-

- “From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a - very different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am - sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business to - a more successful conclusion.” -

-

- “On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be - more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph - is now as safe as if it were in the fire.” -

-

- “I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.” -

-

- “I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can - reward you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from his - finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. -

-

- “Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,” - said Holmes. -

-

- “You have but to name it.” -

-

- “This photograph!” -

-

- The King stared at him in amazement. -

-

- “Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.” -

-

- “I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the - matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He - bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the King - had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. -

-

- -

- And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of - Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten - by a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of - women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of - Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under - the honourable title of the woman. -

-
-
-
-

- Adventure II. THE RED-HEADED - LEAGUE -

-

- I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the - autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very - stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an - apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled - me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me. -

-

- “You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson,” - he said cordially. -

-

- “I was afraid that you were engaged.” -

-

- “So I am. Very much so.” -

-

- “Then I can wait in the next room.” -

-

- “Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and - helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that - he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also.” -

-

- The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of - greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small - fat-encircled eyes. -

-

- “Try the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting - his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. “I - know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre - and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You - have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you - to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to - embellish so many of my own little adventures.” -

-

- “Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me,” I - observed. -

-

- “You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went - into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that - for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life - itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the - imagination.” -

-

- “A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting.” -

-

- “You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, - for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your - reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, - Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this - morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most - singular which I have listened to for some time. You have heard me - remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often - connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and - occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any - positive crime has been committed. As far as I have heard, it is - impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of - crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most - singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would - have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not - merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but - also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have - every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard - some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide - myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my - memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts - are, to the best of my belief, unique.” -

-

- The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some - little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside - pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, - with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his - knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion - of my companion, to read the indications which might be presented by - his dress or appearance. -

-

- I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore - every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, - pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd’s check - trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, - and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square - pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat - and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a - chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing - remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the expression - of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his - head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. “Beyond the - obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he - takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and - that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce - nothing else.” -

-

- Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the - paper, but his eyes upon my companion. -

-

- “How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?” - he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. - It’s as true as gospel, for I began as a ship’s carpenter.” -

-

- “Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than - your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more - developed.” -

-

- “Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?” -

-

- “I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, - especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use - an arc-and-compass breastpin.” -

-

- “Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?” -

-

- “What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five - inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where - you rest it upon the desk?” -

-

- “Well, but China?” -

-

- “The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist - could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of - tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the - subject. That trick of staining the fishes’ scales of a delicate pink - is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin - hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple.” -

-

- Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I thought - at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was - nothing in it after all.” -

-

- “I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake in - explaining. ‘Omne ignotum pro magnifico,’ you know, and my poor - little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so - candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?” -

-

- “Yes, I have got it now,” he answered with his thick red finger - planted halfway down the column. “Here it is. This is what began it - all. You just read it for yourself, sir.” -

-

- I took the paper from him and read as follows: -

-

- “TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late - Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now - another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary - of £4 a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are - sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are - eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o’clock, to Duncan - Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.” -

-

- “What on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated after I had twice read - over the extraordinary announcement. -

-

- Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in - high spirits. “It is a little off the beaten track, isn’t it?” said - he. “And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about - yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had - upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper - and the date.” -

-

- “It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months - ago.” -

-

- “Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?” -

-

- “Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” - said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; “I have a small pawnbroker’s - business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not a very large - affair, and of late years it has not done more than just give me a - living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep - one; and I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come - for half wages so as to learn the business.” -

-

- “What is the name of this obliging youth?” asked Sherlock Holmes. -

-

- “His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he’s not such a youth, either. - It’s hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. - Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn - twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, - why should I put ideas in his head?” -

-

- “Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes - under the full market price. It is not a common experience among - employers in this age. I don’t know that your assistant is not as - remarkable as your advertisement.” -

-

- “Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never was such a - fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to - be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a - rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, - but on the whole he’s a good worker. There’s no vice in him.” -

-

- “He is still with you, I presume?” -

-

- “Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking - and keeps the place clean—that’s all I have in the house, for I am a - widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three - of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do - nothing more. -

-

- “The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, he - came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very - paper in his hand, and he says: -

-

- “ ‘I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.’ -

-

- “ ‘Why that?’ I asks. -

-

- “ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘here’s another vacancy on the League of the - Red-headed Men. It’s worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets - it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, - so that the trustees are at their wits’ end what to do with the money. - If my hair would only change colour, here’s a nice little crib all - ready for me to step into.’ -

-

- “ ‘Why, what is it, then?’ I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very - stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my having - to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the - door-mat. In that way I didn’t know much of what was going on outside, - and I was always glad of a bit of news. -

-

- “ ‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?’ he asked - with his eyes open. -

-

- “ ‘Never.’ -

-

- “ ‘Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the - vacancies.’ -

-

- “ ‘And what are they worth?’ I asked. -

-

- “ ‘Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and - it need not interfere very much with one’s other occupations.’ -

-

- “Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for - the business has not been over good for some years, and an extra - couple of hundred would have been very handy. -

-

- “ ‘Tell me all about it,’ said I. -

-

- “ ‘Well,’ said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you can see for - yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where - you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League - was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very - peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great - sympathy for all red-headed men; so, when he died, it was found that - he had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with - instructions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to - men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay - and very little to do.’ -

-

- “ ‘But,’ said I, ‘there would be millions of red-headed men who would - apply.’ -

-

- “ ‘Not so many as you might think,’ he answered. ‘You see it is really - confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started - from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good - turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your - hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, - fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk - in; but perhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself - out of the way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.’ -

-

- “Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my - hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if - there was to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance - as any man that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so - much about it that I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered - him to put up the shutters for the day and to come right away with me. - He was very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and - started off for the address that was given us in the advertisement. -

-

- “I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From - north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his - hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet - Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope’s Court looked like a - coster’s orange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many - in the whole country as were brought together by that single - advertisement. Every shade of colour they were—straw, lemon, orange, - brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were - not many who had the real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how - many were waiting, I would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding - would not hear of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed - and pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up - to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream upon - the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back dejected; but - we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in the - office.” -

-

- “Your experience has been a most entertaining one,” remarked Holmes as - his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. - “Pray continue your very interesting statement.” -

-

- “There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a - deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even - redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, - and then he always managed to find some fault in them which would - disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy - matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much - more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the - door as we entered, so that he might have a private word with us. -

-

- “ ‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, ‘and he is willing to - fill a vacancy in the League.’ -

-

- “ ‘And he is admirably suited for it,’ the other answered. ‘He has - every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.’ - He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my - hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, - wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my success. -

-

- “ ‘It would be injustice to hesitate,’ said he. ‘You will, however, I - am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.’ With that he - seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the - pain. ‘There is water in your eyes,’ said he as he released me. ‘I - perceive that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for - we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell - you tales of cobbler’s wax which would disgust you with human nature.’ - He stepped over to the window and shouted through it at the top of his - voice that the vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up - from below, and the folk all trooped away in different directions - until there was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of - the manager. -

-

- “ ‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of the - pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a - married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?’ -

-

- “I answered that I had not. -

-

- “His face fell immediately. -

-

- “ ‘Dear me!’ he said gravely, ‘that is very serious indeed! I am sorry - to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and - spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is - exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.’ -

-

- “My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not - to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few - minutes he said that it would be all right. -

-

- “ ‘In the case of another,’ said he, ‘the objection might be fatal, - but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of - hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,’ said - I. -

-

- “ ‘Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!’ said Vincent Spaulding. ‘I - should be able to look after that for you.’ -

-

- “ ‘What would be the hours?’ I asked. -

-

- “ ‘Ten to two.’ -

-

- “Now a pawnbroker’s business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, - especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; - so it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. - Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would - see to anything that turned up. -

-

- “ ‘That would suit me very well,’ said I. ‘And the pay?’ -

-

- “ ‘Is £4 a week.’ -

-

- “ ‘And the work?’ -

-

- “ ‘Is purely nominal.’ -

-

- “ ‘What do you call purely nominal?’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, - the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. - The will is very clear upon that point. You don’t comply with the - conditions if you budge from the office during that time.’ -

-

- “ ‘It’s only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,’ - said I. -

-

- “ ‘No excuse will avail,’ said Mr. Duncan Ross; ‘neither sickness nor - business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your - billet.’ -

-

- “ ‘And the work?’ -

-

- “ ‘Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the - first volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, - and blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be - ready to-morrow?’ -

-

- “ ‘Certainly,’ I answered. -

-

- “ ‘Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once - more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough to - gain.’ He bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, - hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good - fortune. -

-

- “Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low - spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair - must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I - could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could - make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything - so simple as copying out the - Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did what he could - to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole - thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it - anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and - seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope’s Court. -

-

- “Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as - possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was - there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the - letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from time to time - to see that all was right with me. At two o’clock he bade me good-day, - complimented me upon the amount that I had written, and locked the - door of the office after me. -

-

- “This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager - came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week’s work. It - was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I - was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. - Duncan Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after - a time, he did not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to - leave the room for an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, - and the billet was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I - would not risk the loss of it. -

-

- “Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and - Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with - diligence that I might get on to the B’s before very long. It cost me - something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my - writings. And then suddenly the whole business came to an end.” -

-

- “To an end?” -

-

- “Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual - at ten o’clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square - of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here - it is, and you can read for yourself.” -

-

- He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of - note-paper. It read in this fashion: -

-
- THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED. October 9, 1890. -
-

- Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful - face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely - overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a - roar of laughter. -

-

- “I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our client, - flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. “If you can do nothing - better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.” -

-

- “No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he - had half risen. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for the world. It is - most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying - so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you - take when you found the card upon the door?” -

-

- “I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the - offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. - Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the - ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of - the Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of any such - body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the - name was new to him. -

-

- “ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘the gentleman at No. 4.’ -

-

- “ ‘What, the red-headed man?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and - was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises - were ready. He moved out yesterday.’ -

-

- “ ‘Where could I find him?’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King - Edward Street, near St. Paul’s.’ -

-

- “I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a - manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard - of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.” -

-

- “And what did you do then?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my - assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that - if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, - Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, - so, as I had heard that you were good enough to give advice to poor - folk who were in need of it, I came right away to you.” -

-

- “And you did very wisely,” said Holmes. “Your case is an exceedingly - remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you - have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from - it than might at first sight appear.” -

-

- “Grave enough!” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “Why, I have lost four pound a - week.” -

-

- “As far as you are personally concerned,” remarked Holmes, “I do not - see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On - the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some £30, to say - nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject - which comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them.” -

-

- “No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and - what their object was in playing this prank—if it was a prank—upon me. - It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and - thirty pounds.” -

-

- “We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one - or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called - your attention to the advertisement—how long had he been with you?” -

-

- “About a month then.” -

-

- “How did he come?” -

-

- “In answer to an advertisement.” -

-

- “Was he the only applicant?” -

-

- “No, I had a dozen.” -

-

- “Why did you pick him?” -

-

- “Because he was handy and would come cheap.” -

-

- “At half wages, in fact.” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?” -

-

- “Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, - though he’s not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his - forehead.” -

-

- Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. “I thought as - much,” said he. “Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for - earrings?” -

-

- “Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a - lad.” -

-

- “Hum!” said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. “He is still with - you?” -

-

- “Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.” -

-

- “And has your business been attended to in your absence?” -

-

- “Nothing to complain of, sir. There’s never very much to do of a - morning.” -

-

- “That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion - upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, - and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.” -

-

- “Well, Watson,” said Holmes when our visitor had left us, “what do you - make of it all?” -

-

- “I make nothing of it,” I answered frankly. “It is a most mysterious - business.” -

-

- “As a rule,” said Holmes, “the more bizarre a thing is the less - mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes - which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most - difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter.” -

-

- “What are you going to do, then?” I asked. -

-

- “To smoke,” he answered. “It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg - that you won’t speak to me for fifty minutes.” He curled himself up in - his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and - there he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting - out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion - that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he - suddenly sprang out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has - made up his mind and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. -

-

- “Sarasate plays at the St. James’s Hall this afternoon,” he remarked. - “What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few - hours?” -

-

- “I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing.” -

-

- “Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and - we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal - of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste - than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. - Come along!” -

-

- We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk - took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which - we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, - shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick - houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of - weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel bushes made a hard fight - against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and - a brown board with “JABEZ WILSON” in white letters, upon a corner - house, announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his - business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one - side and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between - puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down - again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally he - returned to the pawnbroker’s, and, having thumped vigorously upon the - pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up to the door and - knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven - young fellow, who asked him to step in. -

-

- “Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you how you would go - from here to the Strand.” -

-

- “Third right, fourth left,” answered the assistant promptly, closing - the door. -

-

- “Smart fellow, that,” observed Holmes as we walked away. “He is, in my - judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not - sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of - him before.” -

-

- “Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson’s assistant counts for a good deal in - this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired - your way merely in order that you might see him.” -

-

- “Not him.” -

-

- “What then?” -

-

- “The knees of his trousers.” -

-

- “And what did you see?” -

-

- “What I expected to see.” -

-

- “Why did you beat the pavement?” -

-

- “My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are - spies in an enemy’s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. - Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it.” -

-

- The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner - from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to - it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main - arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. - The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in - a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with - the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we - looked at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that - they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant - square which we had just quitted. -

-

- “Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along - the line, “I should like just to remember the order of the houses - here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. - There is Mortimer’s, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the - Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian - Restaurant, and McFarlane’s carriage-building depot. That carries us - right on to the other block. And now, Doctor, we’ve done our work, so - it’s time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then - off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, - and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums.” -

-

- My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very - capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the - afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, - gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his - gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those - of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, - ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his - singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and - his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often - thought, the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which - occasionally predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him - from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was - never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been - lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter - editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come - upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the - level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods - would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of - other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music - at St. James’s Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon - those whom he had set himself to hunt down. -

-

- “You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor,” he remarked as we emerged. -

-

- “Yes, it would be as well.” -

-

- “And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This - business at Coburg Square is serious.” -

-

- “Why serious?” -

-

- “A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to - believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday - rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night.” -

-

- “At what time?” -

-

- “Ten will be early enough.” -

-

- “I shall be at Baker Street at ten.” -

-

- “Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so - kindly put your army revolver in your pocket.” He waved his hand, - turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. -

-

- I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always - oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with - Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what - he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly - not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me - the whole business was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home - to my house in Kensington I thought over it all, from the - extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the - Encyclopaedia down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the - ominous words with which he had parted from me. What was this - nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, - and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this - smooth-faced pawnbroker’s assistant was a formidable man—a man who - might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in - despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an - explanation. -

-

- It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way - across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two - hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I - heard the sound of voices from above. On entering his room, I found - Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised - as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, - thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively - respectable frock-coat. -

-

- “Ha! Our party is complete,” said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket - and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. “Watson, I think you - know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. - Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night’s adventure.” -

-

- “We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,” said Jones in his - consequential way. “Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting a - chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down.” -

-

- “I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,” - observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily. -

-

- “You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said the - police agent loftily. “He has his own little methods, which are, if he - won’t mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, - but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to - say that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and - the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official - force.” -

-

- “Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the stranger - with deference. “Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the - first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my - rubber.” -

-

- “I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that you will play for - a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play - will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be - some £30,000; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you - wish to lay your hands.” -

-

- “John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He’s a young - man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I - would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. - He’s a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal - duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as - cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, - we never know where to find the man himself. He’ll crack a crib in - Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in - Cornwall the next. I’ve been on his track for years and have never set - eyes on him yet.” -

-

- “I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I’ve - had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with - you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, - and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, - Watson and I will follow in the second.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and - lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the - afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets - until we emerged into Farrington Street. -

-

- “We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow - Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the - matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a - bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one - positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a - lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we are, and they are - waiting for us.” -

-

- We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found - ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the - guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and - through a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small - corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was - opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated - at another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a - lantern, and then conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, - and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which - was piled all round with crates and massive boxes. -

-

- “You are not very vulnerable from above,” Holmes remarked as he held - up the lantern and gazed about him. -

-

- “Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the - flags which lined the floor. “Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!” - he remarked, looking up in surprise. -

-

- “I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!” said Holmes - severely. “You have already imperilled the whole success of our - expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down - upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?” -

-

- The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very - injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees - upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to - examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed - to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in - his pocket. -

-

- “We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked, “for they can - hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then - they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the - longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present, - Doctor—as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of the City branch - of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman - of directors, and he will explain to you that there are reasons why - the more daring criminals of London should take a considerable - interest in this cellar at present.” -

-

- “It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had several - warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.” -

-

- “Your French gold?” -

-

- “Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and - borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It - has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, - and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit - contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our - reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a - single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the - subject.” -

-

- “Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now it is time - that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour - matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must - put the screen over that dark lantern.” -

-

- “And sit in the dark?” -

-

- “I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I - thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your - rubber after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have gone so - far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we - must choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall - take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are - careful. I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal - yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close - in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting - them down.” -

-

- I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind - which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his - lantern and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolute darkness as I - have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to - assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a - moment’s notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of - expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden - gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault. -

-

- “They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes. “That is back through - the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I - asked you, Jones?” -

-

- “I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.” -

-

- “Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and - wait.” -

-

- What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but an - hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have - almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary - and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were - worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute - that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but - I could distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones - from the thin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I - could look over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my - eyes caught the glint of a light. -

-

- At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it - lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any - warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, - almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area - of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, - protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it - appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which - marked a chink between the stones. -

-

- Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearing - sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon its side and - left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a - lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which - looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand on either side of the - aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee - rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at the side of the - hole and was hauling after him a companion, lithe and small like - himself, with a pale face and a shock of very red hair. -

-

- “It’s all clear,” he whispered. “Have you the chisel and the bags? - Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I’ll swing for it!” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. - The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth - as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of - a revolver, but Holmes’ hunting crop came down on the man’s wrist, and - the pistol clinked upon the stone floor. -

-

- “It’s no use, John Clay,” said Holmes blandly. “You have no chance at - all.” -

-

- “So I see,” the other answered with the utmost coolness. “I fancy that - my pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails.” -

-

- “There are three men waiting for him at the door,” said Holmes. -

-

- “Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I must - compliment you.” -

-

- “And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed idea was very new and - effective.” -

-

- “You’ll see your pal again presently,” said Jones. “He’s quicker at - climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies.” -

-

- “I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,” remarked - our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. “You may not - be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, - when you address me always to say ‘sir’ and ‘please.’ ” -

-

- “All right,” said Jones with a stare and a snigger. “Well, would you - please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your - Highness to the police-station?” -

-

- “That is better,” said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to - the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the - detective. -

-

- “Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from - the cellar, “I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. - There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most - complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery - that have ever come within my experience.” -

-

- “I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. John - Clay,” said Holmes. “I have been at some small expense over this - matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am - amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, - and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed - League.” -

-

-

- “You see, Watson,” he explained in the early hours of the morning as - we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, “it was - perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this - rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the - copying of the Encyclopaedia, must be to get this not - over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. - It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be - difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to - Clay’s ingenious mind by the colour of his accomplice’s hair. The £4 a - week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were - playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has - the temporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, - and together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the - week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half - wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for - securing the situation.” -

-

- “But how could you guess what the motive was?” -

-

- “Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere - vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man’s - business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which - could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure - as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What - could it be? I thought of the assistant’s fondness for photography, - and his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the - end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious - assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and - most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the - cellar—something which took many hours a day for months on end. What - could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was - running a tunnel to some other building. -

-

- “So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I - surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was - ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It - was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant - answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes - upon each other before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were - what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, - wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours of - burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. - I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on - our friend’s premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you - drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the - chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen.” -

-

- “And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?” - I asked. -

-

- “Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they - cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson’s presence—in other words, that - they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should - use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be - removed. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it - would give them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I - expected them to come to-night.” -

-

- “You reasoned it out beautifully,” I exclaimed in unfeigned - admiration. “It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true.” -

-

- “It saved me from ennui,” he answered, yawning. “Alas! I already feel - it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape - from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to - do so.” -

-

- “And you are a benefactor of the race,” said I. -

-

- He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some - little use,” he remarked. “ ‘L’homme c’est rien—l’oeuvre c’est tout,’ as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand.” -

-
-
-

- Adventure III. A Case of Identity -

-

- “My dear fellow,” said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the - fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, “life is infinitely stranger - than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to - conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. - If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great - city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which - are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the - cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through - generations, and leading to the most outré results, it would - make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions - most stale and unprofitable.” -

-

- “And yet I am not convinced of it,” I answered. “The cases which come - to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. - We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, - and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor - artistic.” -

-

- “A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a - realistic effect,” remarked Holmes. “This is wanting in the police - report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the - magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the - vital essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so - unnatural as the commonplace.” -

-

- I smiled and shook my head. “I can quite understand your thinking so,” - I said. “Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper - to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, - you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But - here”—I picked up the morning paper from the ground—“let us put it to - a practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come. ‘A - husband’s cruelty to his wife.’ There is half a column of print, but I - know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There - is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the - bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers - could invent nothing more crude.” -

-

- “Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,” said - Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. “This is the - Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing - up some small points in connection with it. The husband was a - teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of - was that he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by - taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you - will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the - average story-teller. Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge - that I have scored over you in your example.” -

-

- He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the - centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely - ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. -

-

- “Ah,” said he, “I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is - a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance - in the case of the Irene Adler papers.” -

-

- “And the ring?” I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which - sparkled upon his finger. -

-

- “It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in - which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even - to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little - problems.” -

-

- “And have you any on hand just now?” I asked with interest. -

-

- “Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest. - They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, - I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a - field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and - effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes - are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, - as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather - intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there - is nothing which presents any features of interest. It is possible, - however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are - over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken.” -

-

- He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds - gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over - his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large - woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red - feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish - Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great - panoply she peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, - while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers - fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the - swimmer who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard - the sharp clang of the bell. -

-

- “I have seen those symptoms before,” said Holmes, throwing his - cigarette into the fire. “Oscillation upon the pavement always means - an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure - that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even - here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a - man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell - wire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the - maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she - comes in person to resolve our doubts.” -

-

- As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons - entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself - loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man - behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy - courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, having closed the door and - bowed her into an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet - abstracted fashion which was peculiar to him. -

-

- “Do you not find,” he said, “that with your short sight it is a little - trying to do so much typewriting?” -

-

- “I did at first,” she answered, “but now I know where the letters are - without looking.” Then, suddenly realising the full purport of his - words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and - astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. “You’ve heard about - me, Mr. Holmes,” she cried, “else how could you know all that?” -

-

- “Never mind,” said Holmes, laughing; “it is my business to know - things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If - not, why should you come to consult me?” -

-

- “I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whose - husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him - up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I’m - not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides - the little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know - what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-

- “Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?” asked Sherlock - Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling. -

-

- Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary - Sutherland. “Yes, I did bang out of the house,” she said, “for it made - me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank—that is, my - father—took it all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go - to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying that - there was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things - and came right away to you.” -

-

- “Your father,” said Holmes, “your stepfather, surely, since the name - is different.” -

-

- “Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, - for he is only five years and two months older than myself.” -

-

- “And your mother is alive?” -

-

- “Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn’t best pleased, Mr. Holmes, - when she married again so soon after father’s death, and a man who was - nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in the - Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which - mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank - came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a - traveller in wines. They got £4700 for the goodwill and interest, - which wasn’t near as much as father could have got if he had been - alive.” -

-

- I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling - and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened - with the greatest concentration of attention. -

-

- “Your own little income,” he asked, “does it come out of the - business?” -

-

- “Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in - Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4½ per cent. Two thousand - five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the - interest.” -

-

- “You interest me extremely,” said Holmes. “And since you draw so large - a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no - doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe - that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about - £60.” -

-

- “I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand - that as long as I live at home I don’t wish to be a burden to them, - and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with - them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws - my interest every quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that - I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me - twopence a sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in - a day.” -

-

- “You have made your position very clear to me,” said Holmes. “This is - my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before - myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer - Angel.” -

-

- A flush stole over Miss Sutherland’s face, and she picked nervously at - the fringe of her jacket. “I met him first at the gasfitters’ ball,” - she said. “They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and - then afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. - Windibank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. - He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school - treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what - right had he to prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, - when all father’s friends were to be there. And he said that I had - nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so - much as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, - he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, - mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it was - there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-

- “I suppose,” said Holmes, “that when Mr. Windibank came back from - France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball.” -

-

- “Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and - shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to - a woman, for she would have her way.” -

-

- “I see. Then at the gasfitters’ ball you met, as I understand, a - gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-

- “Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we - had got home all safe, and after that we met him—that is to say, Mr. - Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back - again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more.” -

-

- “No?” -

-

- “Well, you know father didn’t like anything of the sort. He wouldn’t - have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman - should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say - to mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not - got mine yet.” -

-

- “But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?” -

-

- “Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer - wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other - until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to - write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no - need for father to know.” -

-

- “Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?” -

-

- “Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we - took. Hosmer—Mr. Angel—was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall - Street—and—” -

-

- “What office?” -

-

- “That’s the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don’t know.” -

-

- “Where did he live, then?” -

-

- “He slept on the premises.” -

-

- “And you don’t know his address?” -

-

- “No—except that it was Leadenhall Street.” -

-

- “Where did you address your letters, then?” -

-

- “To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He - said that if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all - the other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to - typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn’t have that, for he - said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they - were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us. - That will just show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the - little things that he would think of.” -

-

- “It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “It has long been an axiom of - mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you - remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?” -

-

- “He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in - the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be - conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was - gentle. He’d had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he - told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, - whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat - and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore - tinted glasses against the glare.” -

-

- “Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned - to France?” -

-

- “Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should - marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me - swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would - always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me - swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his - favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, - when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about - father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to - tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with - him. I didn’t quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I - should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I - didn’t want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at - Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter - came back to me on the very morning of the wedding.” -

-

- “It missed him, then?” -

-

- “Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.” -

-

- “Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the - Friday. Was it to be in church?” -

-

- “Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour’s, near - King’s Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. - Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two - of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, - which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the - church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to - step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box - and looked there was no one there! The cabman said that he could not - imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his - own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or - heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him.” -

-

- “It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,” said - Holmes. -

-

- “Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the - morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; - and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I - was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would - claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a - wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it.” -

-

- “Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some - unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?” -

-

- “Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not - have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened.” -

-

- “But you have no notion as to what it could have been?” -

-

- “None.” -

-

- “One more question. How did your mother take the matter?” -

-

- “She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter - again.” -

-

- “And your father? Did you tell him?” -

-

- “Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, - and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest - could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then - leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me - and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but - Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a - shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he - not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can’t sleep - a wink at night.” She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and - began to sob heavily into it. -

-

- “I shall glance into the case for you,” said Holmes, rising, “and I - have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight - of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it - further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your - memory, as he has done from your life.” -

-

- “Then you don’t think I’ll see him again?” -

-

- “I fear not.” -

-

- “Then what has happened to him?” -

-

- “You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate - description of him and any letters of his which you can spare.” -

-

- “I advertised for him in last Saturday’s Chronicle,” said she. - “Here is the slip and here are four letters from him.” -

-

- “Thank you. And your address?” -

-

- “No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.” -

-

- “Mr. Angel’s address you never had, I understand. Where is your - father’s place of business?” -

-

- “He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers - of Fenchurch Street.” -

-

- “Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave - the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let - the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect - your life.” -

-

- “You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true - to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back.” -

-

- For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something - noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. - She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, - with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still - pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze - directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the - old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having - lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths - spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face. -

-

- “Quite an interesting study, that maiden,” he observed. “I found her - more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather - a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in - Andover in ’77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last - year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which - were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive.” -

-

- “You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible - to me,” I remarked. -

-

- “Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, - and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to - realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, - or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you - gather from that woman’s appearance? Describe it.” -

-

- “Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a - feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn - upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was - brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at - the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and were worn through at - the right forefinger. Her boots I didn’t observe. She had small round, - hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in - a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. -

-

- “ ’Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have - really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed - everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you - have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my - boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always - at a woman’s sleeve. In a man it is perhaps better first to take the - knee of the trouser. As you observe, this woman had plush upon her - sleeves, which is a most useful material for showing traces. The - double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses - against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the - hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the - side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the - broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing - the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a - remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise - her.” -

-

- “It surprised me.” -

-

- “But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested - on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was - wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one - having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One - was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other - at the first, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, - otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, - half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a - hurry.” -

-

- “And what else?” I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my - friend’s incisive reasoning. -

-

- “I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home - but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was - torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove - and finger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry - and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the - mark would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, - though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. - Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer - Angel?” -

-

- I held the little printed slip to the light. -

-

- “Missing,” it said, “on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman - named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly - built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the centre, - bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight - infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat - faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris - tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to - have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody - bringing—” -

-

- “That will do,” said Holmes. “As to the letters,” he continued, - glancing over them, “they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in - them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one - remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you.” -

-

- “They are typewritten,” I remarked. -

-

- “Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat - little ‘Hosmer Angel’ at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no - superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The - point about the signature is very suggestive—in fact, we may call it - conclusive.” -

-

- “Of what?” -

-

- “My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears - upon the case?” -

-

- “I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to - deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were - instituted.” -

-

- “No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which - should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is - to the young lady’s stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he - could meet us here at six o’clock to-morrow evening. It is just as - well that we should do business with the male relatives. And now, - Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so - we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim.” -

-

- I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend’s subtle powers of - reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must - have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which - he treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to - fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of - Bohemia and of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to - the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary - circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it - would be a strange tangle indeed which he could not unravel. -

-

- I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the - conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find - that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up to the - identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland. -

-

- A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at - the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the - sufferer. It was not until close upon six o’clock that I found myself - free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, - half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the - dénouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes - alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the - recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and - test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told - me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to - him. -

-

- “Well, have you solved it?” I asked as I entered. -

-

- “Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta.” -

-

- “No, no, the mystery!” I cried. -

-

- “Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There - was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some - of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no - law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel.” -

-

- “Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss - Sutherland?” -

-

- The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened - his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a - tap at the door. -

-

- “This is the girl’s stepfather, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “He - has written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!” -

-

- The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty - years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, - insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating - grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his - shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down - into the nearest chair. -

-

- “Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “I think that this - typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with - me for six o’clock?” -

-

- “Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my - own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you - about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash - linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she - came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have - noticed, and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her - mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not - connected with the official police, but it is not pleasant to have a - family misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless - expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?” -

-

- “On the contrary,” said Holmes quietly; “I have every reason to - believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-

- Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. “I am - delighted to hear it,” he said. -

-

- “It is a curious thing,” remarked Holmes, “that a typewriter has - really quite as much individuality as a man’s handwriting. Unless they - are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get - more worn than others, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark - in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some - little slurring over of the ‘e,’ and a slight defect in the tail of - the ‘r.’ There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the - more obvious.” -

-

- “We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no - doubt it is a little worn,” our visitor answered, glancing keenly at - Holmes with his bright little eyes. -

-

- “And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. - Windibank,” Holmes continued. “I think of writing another little - monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to - crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. - I have here four letters which purport to come from the missing man. - They are all typewritten. In each case, not only are the ‘e’s’ slurred - and the ‘r’s’ tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my - magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I - have alluded are there as well.” -

-

- Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. “I cannot - waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “If - you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done - it.” -

-

- “Certainly,” said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the - door. “I let you know, then, that I have caught him!” -

-

- “What! where?” shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips and - glancing about him like a rat in a trap. -

-

- “Oh, it won’t do—really it won’t,” said Holmes suavely. “There is no - possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too - transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it - was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That’s right! Sit - down and let us talk it over.” -

-

- Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter - of moisture on his brow. “It—it’s not actionable,” he stammered. -

-

- “I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, - Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a - petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course - of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong.” -

-

- The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his - breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on - the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his - pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us. -

-

- “The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money,” - said he, “and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long - as she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their - position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It - was worth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, - amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so - that it was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her - little income, she would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her - marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what - does her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of - keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of people - of her own age. But soon he found that that would not answer forever. - She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced - her positive intention of going to a certain ball. What does her - clever stepfather do then? He conceives an idea more creditable to his - head than to his heart. With the connivance and assistance of his wife - he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, - masked the face with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk - that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on - account of the girl’s short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and - keeps off other lovers by making love himself.” -

-

- “It was only a joke at first,” groaned our visitor. “We never thought - that she would have been so carried away.” -

-

- “Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very - decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that her - stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an - instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman’s - attentions, and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed - admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was - obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as it would go if a - real effect were to be produced. There were meetings, and an - engagement, which would finally secure the girl’s affections from - turning towards anyone else. But the deception could not be kept up - forever. These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous. The - thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a - dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the - young lady’s mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor - for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a - Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of something - happening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished - Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to - his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not - listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, and - then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the - old trick of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the - other. I think that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!” -

-

- Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had - been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon - his pale face. -

-

- “It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but if you are so - very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are - breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from - the first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself - open to an action for assault and illegal constraint.” -

-

- “The law cannot, as you say, touch you,” said Holmes, unlocking and - throwing open the door, “yet there never was a man who deserved - punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought - to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!” he continued, flushing - up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man’s face, “it is not - part of my duties to my client, but here’s a hunting crop handy, and I - think I shall just treat myself to—” He took two swift steps to the - whip, but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps - upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we - could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the - road. -

-

- “There’s a cold-blooded scoundrel!” said Holmes, laughing, as he threw - himself down into his chair once more. “That fellow will rise from - crime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a - gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of - interest.” -

-

- “I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning,” I - remarked. -

-

- “Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer - Angel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was - equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, - as far as we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two - men were never together, but that the one always appeared when the - other was away, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the - curious voice, which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy - whiskers. My suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in - typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his - handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even the - smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, together with - many minor ones, all pointed in the same direction.” -

-

- “And how did you verify them?” -

-

- “Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew - the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed - description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the result - of a disguise—the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to - the firm, with a request that they would inform me whether it answered - to the description of any of their travellers. I had already noticed - the peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at - his business address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, - his reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but - characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from - Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the - description tallied in every respect with that of their employé, James - Windibank. Voilà tout!” -

-

- “And Miss Sutherland?” -

-

- “If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old - Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and - danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ There is as - much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world.” -

-
-
-

- Adventure IV. The Boscombe Valley - Mystery -

-

- We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid - brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this - way: -

-

- “Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the - west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be - glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave - Paddington by the 11:15.” -

-

- “What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. “Will you - go?” -

-

- “I really don’t know what to say. I have a fairly long list at - present.” -

-

- “Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a - little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you - are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ cases.” -

-

- “I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through - one of them,” I answered. “But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for - I have only half an hour.” -

-

- My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect - of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and - simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my - valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was - pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even - gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting - cloth cap. -

-

- “It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said he. “It makes a - considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can - thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. - If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets.” -

-

- We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers - which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, - with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past - Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and - tossed them up onto the rack. -

-

- “Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked. -

-

- “Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.” -

-

- “The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been - looking through all the recent papers in order to master the - particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple - cases which are so extremely difficult.” -

-

- “That sounds a little paradoxical.” -

-

- “But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. - The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it - is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a - very serious case against the son of the murdered man.” -

-

- “It is a murder, then?” -

-

- “Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted - until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will - explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to - understand it, in a very few words. -

-

- “Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in - Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. - John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years - ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of - Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an - ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that - it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do - so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer - man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon - terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy - had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the - same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have - avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have - led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and - were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. - McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable - household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have - been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts. -

-

- “On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at - Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe - Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream - which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his - serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he - must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. - From that appointment he never came back alive. -

-

- “From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, - and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old - woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, - a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose - that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within - a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. - James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the - best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and - the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he - heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. -

-

- “The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the - game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded - round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl - of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper - of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking - flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of - the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that - they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy - the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the - latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so - frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother - when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling - near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to - fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came - running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in - the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much - excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and - sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him - they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. - The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt - weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted - by the butt-end of his son’s gun, which was found lying on the grass - within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young - man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of ‘wilful murder’ having - been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought - before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next - Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before - the coroner and the police-court.” -

-

- “I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I remarked. “If ever - circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here.” -

-

- “Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” answered Holmes - thoughtfully. “It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if - you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in - an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It - must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave - against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the - culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and - among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, - who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you - may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the - case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the - case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying - westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their - breakfasts at home.” -

-

- “I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious that you will - find little credit to be gained out of this case.” -

-

- “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact,” he answered, - laughing. “Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts - which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me - too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either - confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of - employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to - hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon - the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would - have noted even so self-evident a thing as that.” -

-

- “How on earth—” -

-

- “My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which - characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you - shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less - complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes - positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely - very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could - not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light - and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial - example of observation and inference. Therein lies my métier, - and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the - investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points - which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth - considering.” -

-

- “What are they?” -

-

- “It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the - return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing - him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to - hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of - his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might - have remained in the minds of the coroner’s jury.” -

-

- “It was a confession,” I ejaculated. -

-

- “No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence.” -

-

- “Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least - a most suspicious remark.” -

-

- “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest rift which I can - at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could - not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances - were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own - arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as - highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural - under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to - a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as - either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable - self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it - was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead - body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very - day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and - even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to - raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition - which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a - healthy mind rather than of a guilty one.” -

-

- I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence,” - I remarked. -

-

- “So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.” -

-

- “What is the young man’s own account of the matter?” -

-

- “It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though - there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find - it here, and may read it for yourself.” -

-

- He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, - and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which - the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had - occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read - it very carefully. It ran in this way: -

-

- “Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and - gave evidence as follows: ‘I had been away from home for three days at - Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, - the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and - I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John - Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his - trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and - walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which - direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the - direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the - rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William - Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is - mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea - that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I - heard a cry of “Cooee!” which was a usual signal between my father and - myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He - appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly - what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words - and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. - Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and - returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, - however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to - run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his - head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but - he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and - then made my way to Mr. Turner’s lodge-keeper, his house being the - nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I - returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a - popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he - had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of - the matter.’ -

-

- “The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he - died? -

-

- “Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion - to a rat. -

-

- “The Coroner: What did you understand by that? -

-

- “Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was - delirious. -

-

- “The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had - this final quarrel? -

-

- “Witness: I should prefer not to answer. -

-

- “The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. -

-

- “Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you - that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. -

-

- “The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to - you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably - in any future proceedings which may arise. -

-

- “Witness: I must still refuse. -

-

- “The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee’ was a common signal - between you and your father? -

-

- “Witness: It was. -

-

- “The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, - and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? -

-

- “Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. -

-

- “A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you - returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? -

-

- “Witness: Nothing definite. -

-

- “The Coroner: What do you mean? -

-

- “Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the - open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a - vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground - to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a - coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I - looked round for it, but it was gone. -

-

- “ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, it was gone.’ -

-

- “ ‘You cannot say what it was?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, I had a feeling something was there.’ -

-

- “ ‘How far from the body?’ -

-

- “ ‘A dozen yards or so.’ -

-

- “ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood?’ -

-

- “ ‘About the same.’ -

-

- “ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards - of it?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, but with my back towards it.’ -

-

- “This concluded the examination of the witness.” -

-

- “I see,” said I as I glanced down the column, “that the coroner in his - concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls - attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having - signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give - details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account - of his father’s dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much - against the son.” -

-

- Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the - cushioned seat. “Both you and the coroner have been at some pains,” - said he, “to single out the very strongest points in the young man’s - favour. Don’t you see that you alternately give him credit for having - too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not - invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the - jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness - anything so outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the - incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case - from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we - shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my - pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until - we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we - shall be there in twenty minutes.” -

-

- It was nearly four o’clock when we at last, after passing through the - beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found - ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, - ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the - platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings - which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no - difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we - drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for - us. -

-

- “I have ordered a carriage,” said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of - tea. “I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy - until you had been on the scene of the crime.” -

-

- “It was very nice and complimentary of you,” Holmes answered. “It is - entirely a question of barometric pressure.” -

-

- Lestrade looked startled. “I do not quite follow,” he said. -

-

- “How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the - sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the - sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I - do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage - to-night.” -

-

- Lestrade laughed indulgently. “You have, no doubt, already formed your - conclusions from the newspapers,” he said. “The case is as plain as a - pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. - Still, of course, one can’t refuse a lady, and such a very positive - one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I - repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I - had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the - door.” -

-

- He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most - lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes - shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of - her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. -

-

- “Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” she cried, glancing from one to the other - of us, and finally, with a woman’s quick intuition, fastening upon my - companion, “I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to - tell you so. I know that James didn’t do it. I know it, and I want you - to start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon - that point. We have known each other since we were little children, - and I know his faults as no one else does; but he is too - tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who - really knows him.” -

-

- “I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner,” said Sherlock Holmes. “You may - rely upon my doing all that I can.” -

-

- “But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do - you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that - he is innocent?” -

-

- “I think that it is very probable.” -

-

- “There, now!” she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly - at Lestrade. “You hear! He gives me hopes.” -

-

- Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am afraid that my colleague has - been a little quick in forming his conclusions,” he said. -

-

- “But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And - about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he - would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in - it.” -

-

- “In what way?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many - disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there - should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each - other as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen - very little of life yet, and—and—well, he naturally did not wish to do - anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, - was one of them.” -

-

- “And your father?” asked Holmes. “Was he in favour of such a union?” -

-

- “No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour - of it.” A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot - one of his keen, questioning glances at her. -

-

- “Thank you for this information,” said he. “May I see your father if I - call to-morrow?” -

-

- “I am afraid the doctor won’t allow it.” -

-

- “The doctor?” -

-

- “Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years - back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his - bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous - system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known - dad in the old days in Victoria.” -

-

- “Ha! In Victoria! That is important.” -

-

- “Yes, at the mines.” -

-

- “Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made - his money.” -

-

- “Yes, certainly.” -

-

- “Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me.” -

-

- “You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go - to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him - that I know him to be innocent.” -

-

- “I will, Miss Turner.” -

-

- “I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I - leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking.” She - hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard - the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. -

-

- “I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade with dignity after a few - minutes’ silence. “Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound - to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel.” -

-

- “I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy,” said Holmes. - “Have you an order to see him in prison?” -

-

- “Yes, but only for you and me.” -

-

- “Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still - time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?” -

-

- “Ample.” -

-

- “Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, - but I shall only be away a couple of hours.” -

-

- I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the - streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I - lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed - novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared - to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my - attention wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at - last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a - consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy - young man’s story were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what - absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred - between the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, - drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something - terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the - injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? I rang the bell and - called for the weekly county paper, which contained a verbatim account - of the inquest. In the surgeon’s deposition it was stated that the - posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the - occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. - I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been - struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, - as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, - it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his - back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call - Holmes’ attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference - to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying - from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more - likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could - it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. - And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If - that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, - presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the - hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the son - was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue - of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder - at Lestrade’s opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes’ - insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed - to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy’s innocence. -

-

- It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for - Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. -

-

- “The glass still keeps very high,” he remarked as he sat down. “It is - of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over - the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and - keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when - fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy.” -

-

- “And what did you learn from him?” -

-

- “Nothing.” -

-

- “Could he throw no light?” -

-

- “None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had - done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he - is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, - though comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart.” -

-

- “I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is indeed a fact that - he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss - Turner.” -

-

- “Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, - insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a - lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years - at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches - of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one - knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must - be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very - eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was - sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the - air when his father, at their last interview, was goading him on to - propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of - supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very - hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. - It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in - Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point. It - is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, - finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely to be - hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him to say that - she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is - really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoled - young McCarthy for all that he has suffered.” -

-

- “But if he is innocent, who has done it?” -

-

- “Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. - One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the - pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son - was away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that - the murdered man was heard to cry ‘Cooee!’ before he knew that his son - had returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case - depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and - we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow.” -

-

- There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke - bright and cloudless. At nine o’clock Lestrade called for us with the - carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool. -

-

- “There is serious news this morning,” Lestrade observed. “It is said - that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired - of.” -

-

- “An elderly man, I presume?” said Holmes. -

-

- “About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life - abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business - has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of - McCarthy’s, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have - learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free.” -

-

- “Indeed! That is interesting,” said Holmes. -

-

- “Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about - here speaks of his kindness to him.” -

-

- “Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this - McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been - under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his - son to Turner’s daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, - and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case - of a proposal and all else would follow? It is the more strange, since - we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told - us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?” -

-

- “We have got to the deductions and the inferences,” said Lestrade, - winking at me. “I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without - flying away after theories and fancies.” -

-

- “You are right,” said Holmes demurely; “you do find it very hard to - tackle the facts.” -

-

- “Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult - to get hold of,” replied Lestrade with some warmth. -

-

- “And that is—” -

-

- “That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all - theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.” -

-

- “Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,” said Holmes, laughing. - “But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the - left.” -

-

- “Yes, that is it.” It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, - two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon - the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, - gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay - heavy upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes’ - request, showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his - death, and also a pair of the son’s, though not the pair which he had - then had. Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight - different points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from - which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as - this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker - Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and - darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his - eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was - bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins - stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed - to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so - absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or - remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a - quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way - along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the - woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that - district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and - amid the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes - would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little - detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the - detective indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with - the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his - actions was directed towards a definite end. -

-

- The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some - fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley - Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods - which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting - pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner’s dwelling. On - the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there - was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge - of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us - the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist - was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been - left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his - eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read - upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a - scent, and then turned upon my companion. -

-

- “What did you go into the pool for?” he asked. -

-

- “I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or - other trace. But how on earth—” -

-

- “Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward - twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it - vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I - been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all - over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they - have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here - are three separate tracks of the same feet.” He drew out a lens and - lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the - time rather to himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy’s feet. - Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are - deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. - He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the - father’s feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the - butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What - have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They - come, they go, they come again—of course that was for the cloak. Now - where did they come from?” He ran up and down, sometimes losing, - sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the - wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the - neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and - lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. - For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried - sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and - examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the - tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the - moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he - followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, - where all traces were lost. -

-

- “It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, returning - to his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on the right must - be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, - and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back - to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you - presently.” -

-

- It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back - into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had - picked up in the wood. -

-

- “This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. “The - murder was done with it.” -

-

- “I see no marks.” -

-

- “There are none.” -

-

- “How do you know, then?” -

-

- “The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. - There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds - with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.” -

-

- “And the murderer?” -

-

- “Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears - thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, - uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. - There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us - in our search.” -

-

- Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he said. - “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed - British jury.” -

-

- “Nous verrons,” answered Holmes calmly. “You work your own - method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and - shall probably return to London by the evening train.” -

-

- “And leave your case unfinished?” -

-

- “No, finished.” -

-

- “But the mystery?” -

-

- “It is solved.” -

-

- “Who was the criminal, then?” -

-

- “The gentleman I describe.” -

-

- “But who is he?” -

-

- “Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a - populous neighbourhood.” -

-

- Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical man,” he said, “and - I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a - left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the - laughing-stock of Scotland Yard.” -

-

- “All right,” said Holmes quietly. “I have given you the chance. Here - are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave.” -

-

- Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we - found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought - with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a - perplexing position. -

-

- “Look here, Watson,” he said when the cloth was cleared “just sit down - in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don’t know - quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and - let me expound.” -

-

- “Pray do so.” -

-

- “Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young - McCarthy’s narrative which struck us both instantly, although they - impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that - his father should, according to his account, cry ‘Cooee!’ before - seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He - mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught - the son’s ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, - and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely - true.” -

-

- “What of this ‘Cooee!’ then?” -

-

- “Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as - far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within - earshot. The ‘Cooee!’ was meant to attract the attention of whoever it - was that he had the appointment with. But ‘Cooee’ is a distinctly - Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a - strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him - at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia.” -

-

- “What of the rat, then?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it - out on the table. “This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,” he said. - “I wired to Bristol for it last night.” He put his hand over part of - the map. “What do you read?” -

-

- “ARAT,” I read. -

-

- “And now?” He raised his hand. -

-

- “BALLARAT.” -

-

- “Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son - only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of - his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat.” -

-

- “It is wonderful!” I exclaimed. -

-

- “It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down - considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point - which, granting the son’s statement to be correct, was a certainty. We - have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an - Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.” -

-

- “Certainly.” -

-

- “And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be - approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly - wander.” -

-

- “Quite so.” -

-

- “Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground - I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, - as to the personality of the criminal.” -

-

- “But how did you gain them?” -

-

- “You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.” -

-

- “His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his - stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.” -

-

- “Yes, they were peculiar boots.” -

-

- “But his lameness?” -

-

- “The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his - left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped—he was lame.” -

-

- “But his left-handedness.” -

-

- “You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by - the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately - behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it - were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the - interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I - found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes - enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, - devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the - ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette - tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the - stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, - of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam.” -

-

- “And the cigar-holder?” -

-

- “I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used - a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was - not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.” -

-

- “Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this man from which he - cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as - if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in - which all this points. The culprit is—” -

-

- “Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our - sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. -

-

- The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, - limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, - and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs - showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of - character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping - eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his - appearance, but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the - corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear - to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic - disease. -

-

- “Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes gently. “You had my note?” -

-

- “Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see - me here to avoid scandal.” -

-

- “I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.” -

-

- “And why did you wish to see me?” He looked across at my companion - with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already - answered. -

-

- “Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. “It is - so. I know all about McCarthy.” -

-

- The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help me!” he cried. “But - I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word - that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes.” -

-

- “I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes gravely. -

-

- “I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would - break her heart—it will break her heart when she hears that I am - arrested.” -

-

- “It may not come to that,” said Holmes. -

-

- “What?” -

-

- “I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who - required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young - McCarthy must be got off, however.” -

-

- “I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had diabetes for years. - My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I - would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol.” -

-

- Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a - bundle of paper before him. “Just tell us the truth,” he said. “I - shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can - witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity - to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless - it is absolutely needed.” -

-

- “It’s as well,” said the old man; “it’s a question whether I shall - live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to - spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it - has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell. -

-

- “You didn’t know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I - tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. - His grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my - life. I’ll tell you first how I came to be in his power. -

-

- “It was in the early ’60’s at the diggings. I was a young chap then, - hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got - among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took - to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a - highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of - it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on - the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went - under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat - Gang. -

-

- “One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we - lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of - us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at - the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we - got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was - this very man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, - but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my - face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, - became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being - suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle - down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which - chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with - my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, - too, and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. - Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the - right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a - new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well - when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. -

-

- “I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent - Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. -

-

- “ ‘Here we are, Jack,’ says he, touching me on the arm; ‘we’ll be as - good as a family to you. There’s two of us, me and my son, and you can - have the keeping of us. If you don’t—it’s a fine, law-abiding country - is England, and there’s always a policeman within hail.’ -

-

- “Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them - off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. - There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I - would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse - as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my - past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever - it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last - he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice. -

-

- “His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was - known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his - lad should step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would - not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike - to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood - firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to - meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over. -

-

- “When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked - a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I - listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to - come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as - little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off - the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most - dear should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap - the bond? I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of - mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. - But my memory and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence - that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as - I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But - that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was - more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction - than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back - his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced - to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That - is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred.” -

-

- “Well, it is not for me to judge you,” said Holmes as the old man - signed the statement which had been drawn out. “I pray that we may - never be exposed to such a temptation.” -

-

- “I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?” -

-

- “In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will - soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. - I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be - forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and - your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us.” -

-

- “Farewell, then,” said the old man solemnly. “Your own deathbeds, when - they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you - have given to mine.” Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he - stumbled slowly from the room. -

-

- “God help us!” said Holmes after a long silence. “Why does fate play - such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as - this that I do not think of Baxter’s words, and say, ‘There, but for - the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.’ ” -

-

- James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a - number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted - to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our - interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the - son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the - black cloud which rests upon their past. -

-
-
-

- Adventure V. The Five Orange Pips -

-

- When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases - between the years ’82 and ’90, I am faced by so many which present - strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know - which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained - publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for - those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a - degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. - Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as - narratives, beginnings without an ending, while others have been but - partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon - conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was - so dear to him. There is, however, one of these last which was so - remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am - tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are - points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never - will be, entirely cleared up. -

-

- The year ’87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or - less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under - this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the - Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a - luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the - facts connected with the loss of the British barque - Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the Grice - Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell - poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes - was able, by winding up the dead man’s watch, to prove that it had - been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had - gone to bed within that time—a deduction which was of the greatest - importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some - future date, but none of them present such singular features as the - strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to - describe. -

-

- It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had - set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and - the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the - heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for - the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of - those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars - of his civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew - in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed - like a child in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side - of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the - other was deep in one of Clark Russell’s fine sea-stories until the - howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the - splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea - waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a few days I - was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street. -

-

- “Why,” said I, glancing up at my companion, “that was surely the bell. - Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” -

-

- “Except yourself I have none,” he answered. “I do not encourage - visitors.” -

-

- “A client, then?” -

-

- “If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on - such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely - to be some crony of the landlady’s.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a - step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his - long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant - chair upon which a newcomer must sit. -

-

- “Come in!” said he. -

-

- The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, - well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and - delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his - hand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather - through which he had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare - of the lamp, and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes - heavy, like those of a man who is weighed down with some great - anxiety. -

-

- “I owe you an apology,” he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his - eyes. “I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought - some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber.” -

-

- “Give me your coat and umbrella,” said Holmes. “They may rest here on - the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the - south-west, I see.” -

-

- “Yes, from Horsham.” -

-

- “That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite - distinctive.” -

-

- “I have come for advice.” -

-

- “That is easily got.” -

-

- “And help.” -

-

- “That is not always so easy.” -

-

- “I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast how - you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal.” -

-

- “Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.” -

-

- “He said that you could solve anything.” -

-

- “He said too much.” -

-

- “That you are never beaten.” -

-

- “I have been beaten four times—three times by men, and once by a - woman.” -

-

- “But what is that compared with the number of your successes?” -

-

- “It is true that I have been generally successful.” -

-

- “Then you may be so with me.” -

-

- “I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with - some details as to your case.” -

-

- “It is no ordinary one.” -

-

- “None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal.” -

-

- “And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have - ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events - than those which have happened in my own family.” -

-

- “You fill me with interest,” said Holmes. “Pray give us the essential - facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as to - those details which seem to me to be most important.” -

-

- The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards - the blaze. -

-

- “My name,” said he, “is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far - as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is a - hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I - must go back to the commencement of the affair. -

-

- “You must know that my grandfather had two sons—my uncle Elias and my - father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he - enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee - of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such - success that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome - competence. -

-

- “My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and - became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done very - well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson’s army, and - afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid - down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained - for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and - took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very - considerable fortune in the States, and his reason for leaving them - was his aversion to the negroes, and his dislike of the Republican - policy in extending the franchise to them. He was a singular man, - fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of - a most retiring disposition. During all the years that he lived at - Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and - two or three fields round his house, and there he would take his - exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave his - room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but he - would see no society and did not want any friends, not even his own - brother. -

-

- “He didn’t mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time - when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be - in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He - begged my father to let me live with him and he was very kind to me in - his way. When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon - and draughts with me, and he would make me his representative both - with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that - I was sixteen I was quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and - could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not - disturb him in his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, - for he had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was - invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone - else to enter. With a boy’s curiosity I have peeped through the - keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a collection of - old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room. -

-

- “One day—it was in March, 1883—a letter with a foreign stamp lay upon - the table in front of the colonel’s plate. It was not a common thing - for him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready - money, and he had no friends of any sort. ‘From India!’ said he as he - took it up, ‘Pondicherry postmark! What can this be?’ Opening it - hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried orange pips, which - pattered down upon his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh - was struck from my lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, - his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared - at the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ - he shrieked, and then, ‘My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’ -

-

- “ ‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried. -

-

- “ ‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, - leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw - scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the - letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five - dried pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I - left the breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming - down with an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in - one hand, and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. -

-

- “ ‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he - with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, - and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’ -

-

- “I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step - up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there - was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass - box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, - with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had - read in the morning upon the envelope. -

-

- “ ‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave my - estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my - brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you - can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my - advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to - give you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t say what turn things are - going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.’ -

-

- “I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him. - The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression - upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind - without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off - the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation - grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the - usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. - He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of - society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door - locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of - drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the - garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid - of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, - by man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush - tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man - who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the - roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold - day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin. -

-

- “Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse - your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken - sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to - search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which - lay at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and - the water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to - his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who - knew how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to - persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter - passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, - and of some £14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.” -

-

- “One moment,” Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, one of - the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the - date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his - supposed suicide.” -

-

- “The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks - later, upon the night of May 2nd.” -

-

- “Thank you. Pray proceed.” -

-

- “When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, - made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked - up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been - destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the - initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and ‘Letters, memoranda, - receipts, and a register’ written beneath. These, we presume, - indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel - Openshaw. For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the - attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon - my uncle’s life in America. Some of them were of the war time and - showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a - brave soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the - Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had - evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians - who had been sent down from the North. -

-

- “Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at - Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of - ’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a - sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There - he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five - dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had - always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the - colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing - had come upon himself. -

-

- “ ‘Why, what on earth does this mean, John?’ he stammered. -

-

- “My heart had turned to lead. ‘It is K. K. K.,’ said I. -

-

- “He looked inside the envelope. ‘So it is,’ he cried. ‘Here are the - very letters. But what is this written above them?’ -

-

- “ ‘Put the papers on the sundial,’ I read, peeping over his shoulder. -

-

- “ ‘What papers? What sundial?’ he asked. -

-

- “ ‘The sundial in the garden. There is no other,’ said I; ‘but the - papers must be those that are destroyed.’ -

-

- “ ‘Pooh!’ said he, gripping hard at his courage. ‘We are in a - civilised land here, and we can’t have tomfoolery of this kind. Where - does the thing come from?’ -

-

- “ ‘From Dundee,’ I answered, glancing at the postmark. -

-

- “ ‘Some preposterous practical joke,’ said he. ‘What have I to do with - sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.’ -

-

- “ ‘I should certainly speak to the police,’ I said. -

-

- “ ‘And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.’ -

-

- “ ‘Then let me do so?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, I forbid you. I won’t have a fuss made about such nonsense.’ -

-

- “It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I - went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings. -

-

- “On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from - home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command - of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, - for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away - from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of - his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come - at once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which - abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered - skull. I hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever - recovered his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning - from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, - and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in - a verdict of ‘death from accidental causes.’ Carefully as I examined - every fact connected with his death, I was unable to find anything - which could suggest the idea of murder. There were no signs of - violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been - seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far - from at ease, and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had - been woven round him. -

-

- “In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why - I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that - our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle’s - life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in - another. -

-

- “It was in January, ’85, that my poor father met his end, and two - years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I - have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse - had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last - generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday - morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my - father.” -

-

- The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning - to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips. -

-

- “This is the envelope,” he continued. “The postmark is London—eastern - division. Within are the very words which were upon my father’s last - message: ‘K. K. K.’; and then ‘Put the papers on the sundial.’ ” -

-

- “What have you done?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “Nothing.” -

-

- “Nothing?” -

-

- “To tell the truth”—he sank his face into his thin, white hands—“I - have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when - the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some - resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can - guard against.” -

-

- “Tut! tut!” cried Sherlock Holmes. “You must act, man, or you are - lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair.” -

-

- “I have seen the police.” -

-

- “Ah!” -

-

- “But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the - inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical - jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as - the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings.” -

-

- Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. “Incredible imbecility!” - he cried. -

-

- “They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the - house with me.” -

-

- “Has he come with you to-night?” -

-

- “No. His orders were to stay in the house.” -

-

- Again Holmes raved in the air. -

-

- “Why did you come to me,” he cried, “and, above all, why did you not - come at once?” -

-

- “I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast - about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you.” -

-

- “It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted - before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which - you have placed before us—no suggestive detail which might help us?” -

-

- “There is one thing,” said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat - pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he - laid it out upon the table. “I have some remembrance,” said he, “that - on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, - unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular - colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am - inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, - fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped - destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us - much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The - writing is undoubtedly my uncle’s.” -

-

- Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which - showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It - was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the following enigmatical - notices: -

-

- “4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. -

-

- “7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and -

-

John Swain, of St. Augustine.

-

- “9th. McCauley cleared. -

-

- “10th. John Swain cleared. -

-

- “12th. Visited Paramore. All well.” -

-

- “Thank you!” said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our - visitor. “And now you must on no account lose another instant. We - cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get - home instantly and act.” -

-

- “What shall I do?” -

-

- “There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put - this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which - you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the - other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one - which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry - conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box - out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?” -

-

- “Entirely.” -

-

- “Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think - that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to - weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to - remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear - up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties.” -

-

- “I thank you,” said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat. - “You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you - advise.” -

-

- “Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the - meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are - threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?” -

-

- “By train from Waterloo.” -

-

- “It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you - may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely.” -

-

- “I am armed.” -

-

- “That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.” -

-

- “I shall see you at Horsham, then?” -

-

- “No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it.” -

-

- “Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to - the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular.” - He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still - screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This - strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad - elements—blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale—and now - to have been reabsorbed by them once more. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk - forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit - his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue - smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. -

-

- “I think, Watson,” he remarked at last, “that of all our cases we have - had none more fantastic than this.” -

-

- “Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four.” -

-

- “Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to - me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos.” -

-

- “But have you,” I asked, “formed any definite conception as to what - these perils are?” -

-

- “There can be no question as to their nature,” he answered. -

-

- “Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue this - unhappy family?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of - his chair, with his finger-tips together. “The ideal reasoner,” he - remarked, “would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its - bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up - to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier - could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a - single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in - a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other - ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which - the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study - which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of - their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is - necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts - which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you - will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, even in these - days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare - accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that a man should - possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work, - and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, - you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my - limits in a very precise fashion.” -

-

- “Yes,” I answered, laughing. “It was a singular document. Philosophy, - astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany - variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region - within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, - sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, - swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I - think, were the main points of my analysis.” -

-

- Holmes grinned at the last item. “Well,” he said, “I say now, as I - said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with - all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put - away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he - wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to - us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly - hand me down the letter K of the - American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you. - Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be - deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong - presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for - leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their - habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the - lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love of - solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone - or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was - fear of someone or something which drove him from America. As to what - it was he feared, we can only deduce that by considering the - formidable letters which were received by himself and his successors. - Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?” -

-

- “The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third - from London.” -

-

- “From East London. What do you deduce from that?” -

-

- “They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship.” -

-

- “Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the - probability—the strong probability—is that the writer was on board of - a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of - Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its - fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that - suggest anything?” -

-

- “A greater distance to travel.” -

-

- “But the letter had also a greater distance to come.” -

-

- “Then I do not see the point.” -

-

- “There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or - men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their - singular warning or token before them when starting upon their - mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came - from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would - have arrived almost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, - seven weeks elapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the - difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the - sailing vessel which brought the writer.” -

-

- “It is possible.” -

-

- “More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of - this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has - always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders - to travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore - we cannot count upon delay.” -

-

- “Good God!” I cried. “What can it mean, this relentless persecution?” -

-

- “The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance - to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite - clear that there must be more than one of them. A single man could not - have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner’s - jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been men - of resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the - holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be - the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society.” -

-

- “But of what society?” -

-

- “Have you never—” said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking - his voice—“have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?” -

-

- “I never have.” -

-

- Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. “Here it is,” - said he presently: -

-

- “ ‘Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the - sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was - formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after - the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts - of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, - Georgia, and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, - principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering - and driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. - Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man - in some fantastic but generally recognised shape—a sprig of oak-leaves - in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this - the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly - from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly - come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So - perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its - methods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any man - succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrages - were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years the organisation - flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and - of the better classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in - the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there - have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.’ -

-

- “You will observe,” said Holmes, laying down the volume, “that the - sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the - disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well - have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family - have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can - understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the - first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep - easy at night until it is recovered.” -

-

- “Then the page we have seen—” -

-

- “Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, ‘sent the - pips to A, B, and C’—that is, sent the society’s warning to them. Then - there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the - country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister - result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into - this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has - in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing more - to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and let - us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still - more miserable ways of our fellow men.” -

-

-

- It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued - brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. - Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down. -

-

- “You will excuse me for not waiting for you,” said he; “I have, I - foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young - Openshaw’s.” -

-

- “What steps will you take?” I asked. -

-

- “It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I - may have to go down to Horsham, after all.” -

-

- “You will not go there first?” -

-

- “No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid - will bring up your coffee.” -

-

- As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and - glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to - my heart. -

-

- “Holmes,” I cried, “you are too late.” -

-

- “Ah!” said he, laying down his cup, “I feared as much. How was it - done?” He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. -

-

- “My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading ‘Tragedy Near - Waterloo Bridge.’ Here is the account: -

-

- “ ‘Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H - Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a - splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and - stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was - quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given, - and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually - recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it - appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John - Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that - he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo - Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his - path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for - river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there - can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an - unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the - attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside - landing-stages.’ ” -

-

- We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken - than I had ever seen him. -

-

- “That hurts my pride, Watson,” he said at last. “It is a petty - feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter - with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon - this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should send - him away to his death—!” He sprang from his chair and paced about the - room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks - and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands. -

-

- “They must be cunning devils,” he exclaimed at last. “How could they - have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line - to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a - night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in - the long run. I am going out now!” -

-

- “To the police?” -

-

- “No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take - the flies, but not before.” -

-

- All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the - evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not - come back yet. It was nearly ten o’clock before he entered, looking - pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from - the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long - draught of water. -

-

- “You are hungry,” I remarked. -

-

- “Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since - breakfast.” -

-

- “Nothing?” -

-

- “Not a bite. I had no time to think of it.” -

-

- “And how have you succeeded?” -

-

- “Well.” -

-

- “You have a clue?” -

-

- “I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not long - remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish - trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!” -

-

- “What do you mean?” -

-

- He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he - squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrust - them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote “S. H. for - J. O.” Then he sealed it and addressed it to “Captain James Calhoun, - Barque Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia.” -

-

- “That will await him when he enters port,” said he, chuckling. “It may - give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his - fate as Openshaw did before him.” -

-

- “And who is this Captain Calhoun?” -

-

- “The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.” -

-

- “How did you trace it, then?” -

-

- He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates - and names. -

-

- “I have spent the whole day,” said he, “over Lloyd’s registers and - files of the old papers, following the future career of every vessel - which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in ’83. There - were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during - those months. Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly attracted - my attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from - London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the - Union.” -

-

- “Texas, I think.” -

-

- “I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have - an American origin.” -

-

- “What then?” -

-

- “I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque - Lone Star was there in January, ’85, my suspicion became a - certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in - the port of London.” -

-

- “Yes?” -

-

- “The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the - Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the - early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to - Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as the - wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and - not very far from the Isle of Wight.” -

-

- “What will you do, then?” -

-

- “Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, - the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and - Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship - last night. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their - cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the - mail-boat will have carried this letter, and the cable will have - informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly - wanted here upon a charge of murder.” -

-

- There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and - the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips - which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as - themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the - equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for news of the - Lone Star of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We did at last - hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of - a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters “L. - S.” carved upon it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the - fate of the Lone Star. -

-
-
-

- Adventure VI. The Man With the - Twisted Lip -

-

- Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal of the - Theological College of St. George’s, was much addicted to opium. The - habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freak when he - was at college; for having read De Quincey’s description of his dreams - and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an - attempt to produce the same effects. He found, as so many more have - done, that the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and - for many years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of - mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see him - now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all - huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble man. -

-

- One night—it was in June, ’89—there came a ring to my bell, about the - hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat - up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and - made a little face of disappointment. -

-

- “A patient!” said she. “You’ll have to go out.” -

-

- I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day. -

-

- We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon - the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some - dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. -

-

- “You will excuse my calling so late,” she began, and then, suddenly - losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my - wife’s neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. “Oh, I’m in such trouble!” - she cried; “I do so want a little help.” -

-

- “Why,” said my wife, pulling up her veil, “it is Kate Whitney. How you - startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in.” -

-

- “I didn’t know what to do, so I came straight to you.” That was always - the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a - light-house. -

-

- “It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and - water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should - you rather that I sent James off to bed?” -

-

- “Oh, no, no! I want the doctor’s advice and help, too. It’s about Isa. - He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about him!” -

-

- It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband’s - trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school - companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could - find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that we - could bring him back to her? -

-

- It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he - had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest - east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined to one - day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. - But now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay - there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison - or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of - it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? - How could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place - and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? -

-

- There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. - Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought, - why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney’s medical adviser, and - as such I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I were - alone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab - within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given - me. And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery - sitting-room behind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a - strange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only - could show how strange it was to be. -

-

- But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. - Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves - which line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge. - Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of - steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found - the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed - down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of - drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door - I found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and - heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, - like the forecastle of an emigrant ship. -

-

- Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in - strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown - back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark, - lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadows - there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as - the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. The - most lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked - together in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation - coming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each - mumbling out his own thoughts and paying little heed to the words of - his neighbour. At the farther end was a small brazier of burning - charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a - tall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his - elbows upon his knees, staring into the fire. -

-

- As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for - me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. -

-

- “Thank you. I have not come to stay,” said I. “There is a friend of - mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.” -

-

- There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering - through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring - out at me. -

-

- “My God! It’s Watson,” said he. He was in a pitiable state of - reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. “I say, Watson, what o’clock - is it?” -

-

- “Nearly eleven.” -

-

- “Of what day?” -

-

- “Of Friday, June 19th.” -

-

- “Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What d’you - want to frighten a chap for?” He sank his face onto his arms and began - to sob in a high treble key. -

-

- “I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting this - two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!” -

-

- “So I am. But you’ve got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a - few hours, three pipes, four pipes—I forget how many. But I’ll go home - with you. I wouldn’t frighten Kate—poor little Kate. Give me your - hand! Have you a cab?” -

-

- “Yes, I have one waiting.” -

-

- “Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe, - Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself.” -

-

- I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, - holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, - and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall man who sat by - the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice - whispered, “Walk past me, and then look back at me.” The words fell - quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could only have - come from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as - ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling - down from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer - lassitude from his fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. - It took all my self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry - of astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him but - I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had - regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my - surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion - to me to approach him, and instantly, as he turned his face half round - to the company once more, subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped - senility. -

-

- “Holmes!” I whispered, “what on earth are you doing in this den?” -

-

- “As low as you can,” he answered; “I have excellent ears. If you would - have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I - should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you.” -

-

- “I have a cab outside.” -

-

- “Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he - appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend - you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you - have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shall be - with you in five minutes.” -

-

- It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’ requests, for they - were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet - air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined - in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, - I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend - in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of - his existence. In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney’s - bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through the - darkness. In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the - opium den, and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For - two streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. - Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst - into a hearty fit of laughter. -

-

- “I suppose, Watson,” said he, “that you imagine that I have added - opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little - weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views.” -

-

- “I was certainly surprised to find you there.” -

-

- “But not more so than I to find you.” -

-

- “I came to find a friend.” -

-

- “And I to find an enemy.” -

-

- “An enemy?” -

-

- “Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey. - Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I - have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, - as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my life - would not have been worth an hour’s purchase; for I have used it - before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it - has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back - of that building, near the corner of Paul’s Wharf, which could tell - some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless - nights.” -

-

- “What! You do not mean bodies?” -

-

- “Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 for every - poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest - murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair - has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here.” - He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly—a - signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, - followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses’ - hoofs. -

-

- “Now, Watson,” said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the - gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side - lanterns. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” -

-

- “If I can be of use.” -

-

- “Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more - so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.” -

-

- “The Cedars?” -

-

- “Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair’s house. I am staying there while I - conduct the inquiry.” -

-

- “Where is it, then?” -

-

- “Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.” -

-

- “But I am all in the dark.” -

-

- “Of course you are. You’ll know all about it presently. Jump up here. - All right, John; we shall not need you. Here’s half a crown. Look out - for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!” -

-

- He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the - endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened - gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, - with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another - dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by the - heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts of - some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly - across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there - through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his - head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in - thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest - might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to - break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several - miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban - villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up his - pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he is acting - for the best. -

-

- “You have a grand gift of silence, Watson,” said he. “It makes you - quite invaluable as a companion. ’Pon my word, it is a great thing for - me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not - over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little - woman to-night when she meets me at the door.” -

-

- “You forget that I know nothing about it.” -

-

- “I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we - get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get - nothing to go upon. There’s plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can’t - get the end of it into my hand. Now, I’ll state the case clearly and - concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is - dark to me.” -

-

- “Proceed, then.” -

-

- “Some years ago—to be definite, in May, 1884—there came to Lee a - gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of - money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and - lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the - neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, - by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was - interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the - morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. - Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, - a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular - with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the present - moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to £88 10s., - while he has £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties - Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have - been weighing upon his mind. -

-

- “Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than - usual, remarking before he started that he had two important - commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a - box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram - upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect - that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting - was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. - Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office - of the company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper - Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her - lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the - company’s office, got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 - walking through Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you - followed me so far?” -

-

- “It is very clear.” -

-

- “If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. - Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as - she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While - she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly heard an - ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking - down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from a - second-floor window. The window was open, and she distinctly saw his - face, which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his - hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window so - suddenly that it seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some - irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her - quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as - he had started to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie. -

-

- “Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the - steps—for the house was none other than the opium den in which you - found me to-night—and running through the front room she attempted to - ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At the foot of the - stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken, - who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, - pushed her out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts - and fears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in - Fresno Street a number of constables with an inspector, all on their - way to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and - in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made - their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There - was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there - was no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, - it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore - that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon. So - determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered, and had - almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with - a cry, she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon the table and - tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children’s bricks. - It was the toy which he had promised to bring home. -

-

- “This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, - made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were - carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime. - The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a - small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. - Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is - dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a - half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from - below. On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the - windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden - floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room - were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of - his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch—all were there. - There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there - were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he - must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and - the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he - could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest - at the moment of the tragedy. -

-

- “And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in - the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest - antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair’s story, he was known to have - been at the foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her - husband’s appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more - than an accessory to the crime. His defence was one of absolute - ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings - of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he could not account in any way - for the presence of the missing gentleman’s clothes. -

-

- “So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who - lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly - the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His - name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which is familiar to - every man who goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, - though in order to avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small - trade in wax vestas. Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, - upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small - angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, - cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a - piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the greasy - leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched - the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his - professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest - which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you see, is so - remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of - orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its - contraction, has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog - chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a - singular contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from - amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he - is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown - at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now learn to have - been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see - the gentleman of whom we are in quest.” -

-

- “But a cripple!” said I. “What could he have done single-handed - against a man in the prime of life?” -

-

- “He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other - respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely - your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one - limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others.” -

-

- “Pray continue your narrative.” -

-

- “Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, - and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her presence - could be of no help to them in their investigations. Inspector Barton, - who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the - premises, but without finding anything which threw any light upon the - matter. One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as - he was allowed some few minutes during which he might have - communicated with his friend the Lascar, but this fault was soon - remedied, and he was seized and searched, without anything being found - which could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains - upon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which - had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from - there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that - the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same - source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair - and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a - mystery to him as to the police. As to Mrs. St. Clair’s assertion that - she had actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she - must have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly - protesting, to the police-station, while the inspector remained upon - the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh - clue. -

-

- “And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had - feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair’s coat, and not Neville St. - Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do you think - they found in the pockets?” -

-

- “I cannot imagine.” -

-

- “No, I don’t think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies - and half-pennies—421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It was no wonder - that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a - different matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the - house. It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained - when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river.” -

-

- “But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. - Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?” -

-

- “No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that - this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there - is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then? - It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the - tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act - of throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and - not sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs - when the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already - heard from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the - street. There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret - hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he - stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets - to make sure of the coat’s sinking. He throws it out, and would have - done the same with the other garments had not he heard the rush of - steps below, and only just had time to close the window when the - police appeared.” -

-

- “It certainly sounds feasible.” -

-

- “Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. - Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but - it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against - him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his - life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the - matter stands at present, and the questions which have to be - solved—what Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what - happened to him when there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had - to do with his disappearance—are all as far from a solution as ever. I - confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which - looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such - difficulties.” -

-

- While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of - events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town - until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled - along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he - finished, however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a - few lights still glimmered in the windows. -

-

- “We are on the outskirts of Lee,” said my companion. “We have touched - on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex, - passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light - among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman - whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink - of our horse’s feet.” -

-

- “But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?” I asked. -

-

- “Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. - St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may - rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend - and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her - husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!” -

-

- We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own - grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse’s head, and springing - down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led - to the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little - blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light - mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck - and wrists. She stood with her figure outlined against the flood of - light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her - body slightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and - parted lips, a standing question. -

-

- “Well?” she cried, “well?” And then, seeing that there were two of us, - she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my - companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. -

-

- “No good news?” -

-

- “None.” -

-

- “No bad?” -

-

- “No.” -

-

- “Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had - a long day.” -

-

- “This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in - several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to - bring him out and associate him with this investigation.” -

-

- “I am delighted to see you,” said she, pressing my hand warmly. “You - will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our - arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly - upon us.” -

-

- “My dear madam,” said I, “I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I - can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any - assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed - happy.” -

-

- “Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said the lady as we entered a well-lit - dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, - “I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to - which I beg that you will give a plain answer.” -

-

- “Certainly, madam.” -

-

- “Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to - fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.” -

-

- “Upon what point?” -

-

- “In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. “Frankly, - now!” she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at - him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. -

-

- “Frankly, then, madam, I do not.” -

-

- “You think that he is dead?” -

-

- “I do.” -

-

- “Murdered?” -

-

- “I don’t say that. Perhaps.” -

-

- “And on what day did he meet his death?” -

-

- “On Monday.” -

-

- “Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it - is that I have received a letter from him to-day.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised. -

-

- “What!” he roared. -

-

- “Yes, to-day.” She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in - the air. -

-

- “May I see it?” -

-

- “Certainly.” -

-

- He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon - the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I had left - my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a - very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and with - the date of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was - considerably after midnight. -

-

- “Coarse writing,” murmured Holmes. “Surely this is not your husband’s - writing, madam.” -

-

- “No, but the enclosure is.” -

-

- “I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and - inquire as to the address.” -

-

- “How can you tell that?” -

-

- “The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. - The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has - been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none - would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and - there has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can - only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a - trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see - the letter. Ha! there has been an enclosure here!” -

-

- “Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring.” -

-

- “And you are sure that this is your husband’s hand?” -

-

- “One of his hands.” -

-

- “One?” -

-

- “His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual - writing, and yet I know it well.” -

-

- “ ‘Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge - error which it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in - patience.—NEVILLE.’ Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, - octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man - with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very - much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have - no doubt that it is your husband’s hand, madam?” -

-

- “None. Neville wrote those words.” -

-

- “And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the - clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the danger is - over.” -

-

- “But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes.” -

-

- “Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The - ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from him.” -

-

- “No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!” -

-

- “Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only - posted to-day.” -

-

- “That is possible.” -

-

- “If so, much may have happened between.” -

-

- “Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well - with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if - evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself - in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly - with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think - that I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his - death?” -

-

- “I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may - be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in - this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to - corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write - letters, why should he remain away from you?” -

-

- “I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.” -

-

- “And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?” -

-

- “No.” -

-

- “And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?” -

-

- “Very much so.” -

-

- “Was the window open?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Then he might have called to you?” -

-

- “He might.” -

-

- “He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “A call for help, you thought?” -

-

- “Yes. He waved his hands.” -

-

- “But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the - unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?” -

-

- “It is possible.” -

-

- “And you thought he was pulled back?” -

-

- “He disappeared so suddenly.” -

-

- “He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the room?” -

-

- “No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the - Lascar was at the foot of the stairs.” -

-

- “Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary - clothes on?” -

-

- “But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat.” -

-

- “Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?” -

-

- “Never.” -

-

- “Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?” -

-

- “Never.” -

-

- “Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which - I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and - then retire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow.” -

-

- A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our - disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after - my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when - he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even - for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, - looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it - or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon - evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. He - took off his coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, - and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed and - cushions from the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort - of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with an - ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him. - In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an old briar - pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the - ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless, with - the light shining upon his strong-set aquiline features. So he sat as - I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat when a sudden ejaculation caused - me to wake up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apartment. - The pipe was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, - and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of - the heap of shag which I had seen upon the previous night. -

-

- “Awake, Watson?” he asked. -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Game for a morning drive?” -

-

- “Certainly.” -

-

- “Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable-boy - sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out.” He chuckled to himself - as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the - sombre thinker of the previous night. -

-

- As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was - stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished - when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the - horse. -

-

- “I want to test a little theory of mine,” said he, pulling on his - boots. “I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of - one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from - here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the key of the affair now.” -

-

- “And where is it?” I asked, smiling. -

-

- “In the bathroom,” he answered. “Oh, yes, I am not joking,” he - continued, seeing my look of incredulity. “I have just been there, and - I have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, - my boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock.” -

-

- We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the - bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with - the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and - away we dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were - stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of - villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a - dream. -

-

- “It has been in some points a singular case,” said Holmes, flicking - the horse on into a gallop. “I confess that I have been as blind as a - mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at - all.” -

-

- In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from - their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. - Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and - dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found - ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, - and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the - horse’s head while the other led us in. -

-

- “Who is on duty?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “Inspector Bradstreet, sir.” -

-

- “Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?” A tall, stout official had come down - the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. “I wish - to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet.” “Certainly, Mr. Holmes. - Step into my room here.” It was a small, office-like room, with a huge - ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The - inspector sat down at his desk. -

-

- “What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?” -

-

- “I called about that beggarman, Boone—the one who was charged with - being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of - Lee.” -

-

- “Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries.” -

-

- “So I heard. You have him here?” -

-

- “In the cells.” -

-

- “Is he quiet?” -

-

- “Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel.” -

-

- “Dirty?” -

-

- “Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is - as black as a tinker’s. Well, when once his case has been settled, he - will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you - would agree with me that he needed it.” -

-

- “I should like to see him very much.” -

-

- “Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your - bag.” -

-

- “No, I think that I’ll take it.” -

-

- “Very good. Come this way, if you please.” He led us down a passage, - opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a - whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. -

-

- “The third on the right is his,” said the inspector. “Here it is!” He - quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced - through. -

-

- “He is asleep,” said he. “You can see him very well.” -

-

- We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face - towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was - a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a - coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He - was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which - covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad - wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by - its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three - teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red - hair grew low over his eyes and forehead. -

-

- “He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” said the inspector. -

-

- “He certainly needs a wash,” remarked Holmes. “I had an idea that he - might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.” He - opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my - astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. -

-

- “He! he! You are a funny one,” chuckled the inspector. -

-

- “Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very - quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure.” -

-

- “Well, I don’t know why not,” said the inspector. “He doesn’t look a - credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?” He slipped his key into the - lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half - turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes - stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it - twice vigorously across and down the prisoner’s face. -

-

- “Let me introduce you,” he shouted, “to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, - in the county of Kent.” -

-

- Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man’s face peeled off - under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown - tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and - the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A - twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in his - bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and - smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy - bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a - scream and threw himself down with his face to the pillow. -

-

- “Great heavens!” cried the inspector, “it is, indeed, the missing man. - I know him from the photograph.” -

-

- The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons - himself to his destiny. “Be it so,” said he. “And pray what am I - charged with?” -

-

- “With making away with Mr. Neville St.— Oh, come, you can’t be charged - with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it,” said - the inspector with a grin. “Well, I have been twenty-seven years in - the force, but this really takes the cake.” -

-

- “If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has - been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained.” -

-

- “No crime, but a very great error has been committed,” said Holmes. - “You would have done better to have trusted your wife.” -

-

- “It was not the wife; it was the children,” groaned the prisoner. “God - help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What - an exposure! What can I do?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly - on the shoulder. -

-

- “If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up,” said he, - “of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, if you - convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against - you, I do not know that there is any reason that the details should - find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, - make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the - proper authorities. The case would then never go into court at all.” -

-

- “God bless you!” cried the prisoner passionately. “I would have - endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my - miserable secret as a family blot to my children. -

-

- “You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a - schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education. - I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a - reporter on an evening paper in London. One day my editor wished to - have a series of articles upon begging in the metropolis, and I - volunteered to supply them. There was the point from which all my - adventures started. It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I - could get the facts upon which to base my articles. When an actor I - had, of course, learned all the secrets of making up, and had been - famous in the green-room for my skill. I took advantage now of my - attainments. I painted my face, and to make myself as pitiable as - possible I made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by - the aid of a small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red - head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the - business part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as - a beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned home - in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no less than - 26s. 4d. -

-

- “I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some - time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me - for £25. I was at my wit’s end where to get the money, but a sudden - idea came to me. I begged a fortnight’s grace from the creditor, asked - for a holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging in the - City under my disguise. In ten days I had the money and had paid the - debt. -

-

- “Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work - at £2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by - smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and - sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but - the dollars won at last, and I threw up reporting and sat day after - day in the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by my - ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers. Only one man knew my - secret. He was the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in - Swandam Lane, where I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar - and in the evenings transform myself into a well-dressed man about - town. This fellow, a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so - that I knew that my secret was safe in his possession. -

-

- “Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money. - I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn £700 - a year—which is less than my average takings—but I had exceptional - advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of - repartee, which improved by practice and made me quite a recognised - character in the City. All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, - poured in upon me, and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take - £2. -

-

- “As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, - and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my - real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had business in the City. - She little knew what. -

-

- “Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room - above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my - horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with - her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my - arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the Lascar, - entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her - voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I - threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my - pigments and wig. Even a wife’s eyes could not pierce so complete a - disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in - the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the - window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted - upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which - was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from - the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the - window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would - have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up - the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my - relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I - was arrested as his murderer. -

-

- “I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was - determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my - preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly - anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a - moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried - scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear.” -

-

- “That note only reached her yesterday,” said Holmes. -

-

- “Good God! What a week she must have spent!” -

-

- “The police have watched this Lascar,” said Inspector Bradstreet, “and - I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a - letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of - his, who forgot all about it for some days.” -

-

- “That was it,” said Holmes, nodding approvingly; “I have no doubt of - it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?” -

-

- “Many times; but what was a fine to me?” -

-

- “It must stop here, however,” said Bradstreet. “If the police are to - hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone.” -

-

- “I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.” -

-

- “In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be - taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, - Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared - the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results.” -

-

- “I reached this one,” said my friend, “by sitting upon five pillows - and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to - Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast.” -

-
-
-

- VII. The Adventure of the Blue - Carbuncle -

-

- I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning - after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of - the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a - pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled - morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the - couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very - seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and - cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of - the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for - the purpose of examination. -

-

- “You are engaged,” said I; “perhaps I interrupt you.” -

-

- “Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my - results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one”—he jerked his thumb in - the direction of the old hat—“but there are points in connection with - it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction.” -

-

- I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his - crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were - thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I remarked, “that, homely as - it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it—that it is - the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the - punishment of some crime.” -

-

- “No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of those - whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four - million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few - square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of - humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take - place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be - striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had - experience of such.” -

-

- “So much so,” I remarked, “that of the last six cases which I have - added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime.” -

-

- “Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler - papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the - adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that - this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know - Peterson, the commissionaire?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “It is to him that this trophy belongs.” -

-

- “It is his hat.” -

-

- “No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look - upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. - And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, - in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting - at this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about - four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a - very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and - was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him - he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, - and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the - corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a - little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man’s hat, on - which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his - head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward - to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at - having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in - uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and - vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of - Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of - Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, - and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat - and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.” -

-

- “Which surely he restored to their owner?” -

-

- “My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs. - Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the - bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are - legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands - of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it - is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them.” -

-

- “What, then, did Peterson do?” -

-

- “He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, - knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The - goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in - spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten - without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, - to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain - the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.” -

-

- “Did he not advertise?” -

-

- “No.” -

-

- “Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?” -

-

- “Only as much as we can deduce.” -

-

- “From his hat?” -

-

- “Precisely.” -

-

- “But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?” -

-

- “Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as - to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?” -

-

- I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather - ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, - hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but - was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s name; but, as Holmes - had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were scrawled upon one side. It was - pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. - For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in - several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to - hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. -

-

- “I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend. -

-

- “On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, - to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your - inferences.” -

-

- “Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?” -

-

- He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion - which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less suggestive than - it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few inferences - which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a - strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is - of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly - well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen - upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, - pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline - of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably - drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact - that his wife has ceased to love him.” -

-

- “My dear Holmes!” -

-

- “He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, - disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, - goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has - grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which - he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are - to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely - improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.” -

-

- “You are certainly joking, Holmes.” -

-

- “Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these - results, you are unable to see how they are attained?” -

-

- “I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am - unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man - was intellectual?” -

-

- For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over - the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is a - question of cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a brain - must have something in it.” -

-

- “The decline of his fortunes, then?” -

-

- “This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came - in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of - ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy - so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he - has assuredly gone down in the world.” -

-

- “Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight - and the moral retrogression?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting his - finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. “They are - never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a - certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this - precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the - elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has - less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a - weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal - some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is - a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect.” -

-

- “Your reasoning is certainly plausible.” -

-

- “The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is - grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, - are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of - the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut - by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and - there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, - is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust - of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the - time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive - that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be - in the best of training.” -

-

- “But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.” -

-

- “This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear - Watson, with a week’s accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when - your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you - also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s affection.” -

-

- “But he might be a bachelor.” -

-

- “Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. - Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.” -

-

- “You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that - the gas is not laid on in his house?” -

-

- “One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see - no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the - individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning - tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a - guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from - a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?” -

-

- “Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as you - said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done - save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of - energy.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew - open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with - flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. -

-

- “The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped. -

-

- “Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through - the kitchen window?” Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get - a fairer view of the man’s excited face. -

-

- “See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!” He held out his - hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly - scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of - such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in - the dark hollow of his hand. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said he, - “this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?” -

-

- “A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it - were putty.” -

-

- “It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.” -

-

- “Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I ejaculated. -

-

- “Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have - read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. - It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but - the reward offered of £1000 is certainly not within a twentieth part - of the market price.” -

-

- “A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire plumped - down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. -

-

- “That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are - sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the - Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the - gem.” -

-

- “It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I - remarked. -

-

- “Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a - plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady’s - jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has - been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, - I believe.” He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, - until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the - following paragraph: -

-

- “Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was - brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted - from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known - as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave - his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the - dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in - order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was - loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally - been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, - that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco - casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was - accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. - Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same - evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in - his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having - heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having - rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last - witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the - arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his - innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction - for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate - refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the - Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the - proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of - court.” -

-

- “Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing - aside the paper. “The question for us now to solve is the sequence of - events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a - goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our - little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less - innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and - the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat - and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now - we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and - ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do - this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly - in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall - have recourse to other methods.” -

-

- “What will you say?” -

-

- “Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: ‘Found at the - corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker - can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker - Street.’ That is clear and concise.” -

-

- “Very. But will he see it?” -

-

- “Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, - the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in - breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of - nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the - impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the - introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who - knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run - down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening - papers.” -

-

- “In which, sir?” -

-

- “Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, - St. James’s, Evening News, Standard, Echo, - and any others that occur to you.” -

-

- “Very well, sir. And this stone?” -

-

- “Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, - just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we - must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your - family is now devouring.” -

-

- When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it - against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just see how it - glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. - Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet baits. In the larger and - older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is - not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River - in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of - the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In - spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been - two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies - brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised - charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to - the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and - drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it.” -

-

- “Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?” -

-

- “I cannot tell.” -

-

- “Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had - anything to do with the matter?” -

-

- “It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely - innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was - of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, - however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer - to our advertisement.” -

-

- “And you can do nothing until then?” -

-

- “Nothing.” -

-

- “In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come - back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like - to see the solution of so tangled a business.” -

-

- “Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I - believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to - ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.” -

-

- I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six - when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the - house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was - buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which - was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, - and we were shown up together to Holmes’ room. -

-

- “Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and - greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so - readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a - cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for - summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right - time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?” -

-

- “Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.” -

-

- He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a - broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled - brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his - extended hand, recalled Holmes’ surmise as to his habits. His rusty - black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar - turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a - sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing - his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of - learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune. -

-

- “We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because - we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am - at a loss to know now why you did not advertise.” -

-

- Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. “Shillings have not been - so plentiful with me as they once were,” he remarked. “I had no doubt - that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat - and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt - at recovering them.” -

-

- “Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat - it.” -

-

- “To eat it!” Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. -

-

- “Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I - presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the - same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally - well?” -

-

- “Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief. -

-

- “Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your - own bird, so if you wish—” -

-

- The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as - relics of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see - what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going - to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will - confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the - sideboard.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of - his shoulders. -

-

- “There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, - would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am - somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown - goose.” -

-

- “Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly - gained property under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the - Alpha Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in the Museum itself - during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by - name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few - pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My - pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much - indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my - years nor my gravity.” With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed - solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way. -

-

- “So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the door - behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about - the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?” -

-

- “Not particularly.” -

-

- “Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up - this clue while it is still hot.” -

-

- “By all means.” -

-

- It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats - about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a - cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke - like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly - as we swung through the doctors’ quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley - Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter - of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small - public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into - Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered - two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. -

-

- “Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” said - he. -

-

- “My geese!” The man seemed surprised. -

-

- “Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was - a member of your goose club.” -

-

“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them’s not our geese.”

-

- “Indeed! Whose, then?” -

-

- “Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.” -

-

- “Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?” -

-

- “Breckinridge is his name.” -

-

- “Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, and - prosperity to your house. Good-night.” -

-

- “Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat as we - came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though we have so - homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the - other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude unless - we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may - but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of - investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a - singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the - bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!” -

-

- We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag - of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the - name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, - with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up - the shutters. -

-

- “Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes. -

-

- The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion. -

-

- “Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the bare - slabs of marble. -

-

- “Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.” -

-

- “That’s no good.” -

-

- “Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.” -

-

- “Ah, but I was recommended to you.” -

-

- “Who by?” -

-

- “The landlord of the Alpha.” -

-

- “Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.” -

-

- “Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?” -

-

- To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the - salesman. -

-

- “Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head cocked and his arms - akimbo, “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.” -

-

- “It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese - which you supplied to the Alpha.” -

-

- “Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!” -

-

- “Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you should - be so warm over such a trifle.” -

-

- “Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When - I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the - business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you sell the - geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One would think - they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made - over them.” -

-

- “Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making - inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us the bet is - off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter - of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country - bred.” -

-

- “Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped the - salesman. -

-

- “It’s nothing of the kind.” -

-

- “I say it is.” -

-

- “I don’t believe it.” -

-

- “D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them - ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to - the Alpha were town bred.” -

-

- “You’ll never persuade me to believe that.” -

-

- “Will you bet, then?” -

-

- “It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I’ll - have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate.” -

-

- The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said he. -

-

- The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great - greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. -

-

- “Now then, Mr. Cocksure,” said the salesman, “I thought that I was out - of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is still one left - in my shop. You see this little book?” -

-

- “Well?” -

-

- “That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, then, - here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their - names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You - see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town - suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.” -

-

- “Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road—249,” read Holmes. -

-

- “Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.” -

-

- Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. Oakshott, - 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ” -

-

- “Now, then, what’s the last entry?” -

-

- “ ‘December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ” -

-

- “Quite so. There you are. And underneath?” -

-

- “ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ” -

-

- “What have you to say now?” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his - pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a - man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped - under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which - was peculiar to him. -

-

- “When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ’un’ - protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” said - he. “I daresay that if I had put £100 down in front of him, that man - would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from - him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, - I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which - remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. - Oakshott to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It - is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others - besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should—” -

-

- His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out - from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little - rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light - which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the - salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists - fiercely at the cringing figure. -

-

- “I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you were - all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your - silly talk I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and - I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese - off you?” -

-

- “No; but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the little man. -

-

- “Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.” -

-

- “She told me to ask you.” -

-

- “Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I’ve had - enough of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and the - inquirer flitted away into the darkness. -

-

- “Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. - “Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow.” - Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the - flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and - touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the - gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face. -

-

- “Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering voice. -

-

- “You will excuse me,” said Holmes blandly, “but I could not help - overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I - think that I could be of assistance to you.” -

-

- “You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?” -

-

- “My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other - people don’t know.” -

-

- “But you can know nothing of this?” -

-

- “Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace - some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a - salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the - Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.” -

-

- “Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,” cried the - little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. “I can - hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that case - we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept - market-place,” said he. “But pray tell me, before we go farther, who - it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.” -

-

- The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson,” he - answered with a sidelong glance. -

-

- “No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always awkward - doing business with an alias.” -

-

- A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” said - he, “my real name is James Ryder.” -

-

- “Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step - into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which - you would wish to know.” -

-

- The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with - half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he - is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped - into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at - Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, - thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings - of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him. -

-

- “Here we are!” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. “The - fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. - Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we - settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what - became of those geese?” -

-

- “Yes, sir.” -

-

- “Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in - which you were interested—white, with a black bar across the tail.” -

-

- Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell me - where it went to?” -

-

- “It came here.” -

-

- “Here?” -

-

- “Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder that you - should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead—the - bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here - in my museum.” -

-

- Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with - his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue - carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, - many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, - uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. -

-

- “The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or you’ll - be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He’s - not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a - dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it - is, to be sure!” -

-

- For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy - brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with - frightened eyes at his accuser. -

-

- “I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I - could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, - that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You - had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar’s?” -

-

- “It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a crackling - voice. -

-

- “I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden - wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for - better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means - you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very - pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had - been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would - rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some - small job in my lady’s room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you - managed that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, - you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate - man arrested. You then—” -

-

- Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my - companion’s knees. “For God’s sake, have mercy!” he shrieked. “Think - of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went - wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll swear it on a - Bible. Oh, don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s sake, don’t!” -

-

- “Get back into your chair!” said Holmes sternly. “It is very well to - cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor - Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.” -

-

- “I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the - charge against him will break down.” -

-

- “Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of - the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the - goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your - only hope of safety.” -

-

- Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. “I will tell you it - just as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been arrested, it - seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone - at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take - it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about - the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some - commission, and I made for my sister’s house. She had married a man - named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls - for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a - policeman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, the - sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My - sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told - her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I - went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would - be best to do. -

-

- “I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has - just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and - fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid - of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one - or two things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to - Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would - show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in - safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the - hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would - be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at - the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my - feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I - could beat the best detective that ever lived. -

-

- “My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of - her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as - good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry - my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind - this I drove one of the birds—a fine big one, white, with a barred - tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down - its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and - I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the - creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what - was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and - fluttered off among the others. -

-

- “ ‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she. -

-

- “ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I was - feeling which was the fattest.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you—Jem’s bird, we call - it. It’s the big white one over yonder. There’s twenty-six of them, - which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the - market.’ -

-

- “ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, I’d - rather have that one I was handling just now.’ -

-

- “ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we - fattened it expressly for you.’ -

-

- “ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I. -

-

- “ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed. ‘Which is it you - want, then?’ -

-

- “ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the - flock.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’ -

-

- “Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the - way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that - it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, - and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for - there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake - had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried - into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there. -

-

- “ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried. -

-

- “ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’ -

-

- “ ‘Which dealer’s?’ -

-

- “ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’ -

-

- “ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same as - the one I chose?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell - them apart.’ -

-

- “Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet - would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at - once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You - heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like - that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I - am myself. And now—and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever - having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! - God help me!” He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried - in his hands. -

-

- There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by - the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’ finger-tips upon the edge of - the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. -

-

- “Get out!” said he. -

-

- “What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!” -

-

- “No more words. Get out!” -

-

- And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the - stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls - from the street. -

-

- “After all, Watson,” said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay - pipe, “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. - If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow - will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose - that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving - a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly - frightened. Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for - life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our - way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own - reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we - will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the - chief feature.” -

-
-
-

- VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled - Band -

-

- On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have - during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock - Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, - but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of - his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate - himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, - and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot - recall any which presented more singular features than that which was - associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke - Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my - association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in - Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record - before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I - have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of - the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the - facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there - are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which - tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth. -

-

- It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to find - Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was - a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me - that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some - surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself - regular in my habits. -

-

- “Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common - lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon - me, and I on you.” -

-

- “What is it, then—a fire?” -

-

- “No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a - considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is - waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about - the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up - out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which - they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, - you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at - any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance.” -

-

- “My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.” -

-

- I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional - investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as - intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he - unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw - on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend - down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, - who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered. -

-

- “Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock - Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before - whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see - that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw - up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe - that you are shivering.” -

-

- “It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low voice, - changing her seat as requested. -

-

- “What, then?” -

-

- “It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she - spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of - agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, - like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those - of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and - her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over - with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances. -

-

- “You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting - her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You - have come in by train this morning, I see.” -

-

- “You know me, then?” -

-

- “No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of - your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good - drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the - station.” -

-

- The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my - companion. -

-

- “There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm - of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The - marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which - throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand - side of the driver.” -

-

- “Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she. - “I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, - and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this - strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to - turn to—none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, - can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of - you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. - It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think - that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through - the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my - power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I - shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least - you shall not find me ungrateful.” -

-

- Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small - case-book, which he consulted. -

-

- “Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned - with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can - only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your - case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is - its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I - may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that - you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an - opinion upon the matter.” -

-

- “Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation lies in - the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so - entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that - even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and - advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a - nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing - answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can - see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may - advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me.” -

-

- “I am all attention, madam.” -

-

- “My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is - the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the - Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.” -

-

- Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he. -

-

- “The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the - estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and - Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive - heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family - ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. - Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the - two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy - mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the - horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my - stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, - obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a - medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional - skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In - a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been - perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and - narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long - term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and - disappointed man. -

-

- “When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the - young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My - sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the - time of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of - money—not less than £1000 a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. - Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a - certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our - marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died—she was - killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott - then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London - and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke - Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our - wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. -

-

- “But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. - Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, - who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back - in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom - came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might - cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been - hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather’s case it - had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. - A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the - police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and - the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense - strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. -

-

- “Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a - stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could - gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He - had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give - these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered - land which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the - hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for - weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent - over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah - and a baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by - the villagers almost as much as their master. -

-

- “You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had - no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for - a long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at - the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, - even as mine has.” -

-

- “Your sister is dead, then?” -

-

- “She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to - speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have - described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and - position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden sister, Miss - Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally - allowed to pay short visits at this lady’s house. Julia went there at - Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to - whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when - my sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but - within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, - the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only - companion.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes - closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now - and glanced across at his visitor. -

-

- “Pray be precise as to details,” said he. -

-

- “It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is - seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, - very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this - wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central - block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, - the second my sister’s, and the third my own. There is no - communication between them, but they all open out into the same - corridor. Do I make myself plain?” -

-

- “Perfectly so.” -

-

- “The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal - night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he - had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of - the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left - her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, - chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose to - leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back. -

-

- “ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in - the dead of the night?’ -

-

- “ ‘Never,’ said I. -

-

- “ ‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your - sleep?’ -

-

- “ ‘Certainly not. But why?’ -

-

- “ ‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in - the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it - has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps from the - next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you - whether you had heard it.’ -

-

- “ ‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the - plantation.’ -

-

- “ ‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did - not hear it also.’ -

-

- “ ‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back - at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in - the lock.” -

-

- “Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock yourselves - in at night?” -

-

- “Always.” -

-

- “And why?” -

-

- “I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a - baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.” -

-

- “Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.” -

-

- “I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune - impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you - know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so - closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and - the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid - all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a - terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from - my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I - opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister - described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of - metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was - unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it - horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the - light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her - face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole - figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and - threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give - way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible - pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that - she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly - shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! - Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else - which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into - the air in the direction of the doctor’s room, but a fresh convulsion - seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my - stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his - dressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious, - and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid - from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and - died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful - end of my beloved sister.” -

-

- “One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and - metallic sound? Could you swear to it?” -

-

- “That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my - strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the - gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been - deceived.” -

-

- “Was your sister dressed?” -

-

- “No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the - charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.” -

-

- “Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the - alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the - coroner come to?” -

-

- “He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conduct - had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any - satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been - fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by - old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every - night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite - solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with - the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large - staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when - she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon - her.” -

-

- “How about poison?” -

-

- “The doctors examined her for it, but without success.” -

-

- “What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?” -

-

- “It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though - what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.” -

-

- “Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?” -

-

- “Yes, there are nearly always some there.” -

-

- “Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckled - band?” -

-

- “Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of - delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, - perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether - the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads - might have suggested the strange adjective which she used.” -

-

- Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied. -

-

- “These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your - narrative.” -

-

- “Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately - lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have - known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in - marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr. - Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no - opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the - spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the - building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to - move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the - very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when - last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I - suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had - been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but - nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed - again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped - down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to - Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one - object of seeing you and asking your advice.” -

-

- “You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?” -

-

- “Yes, all.” -

-

- “Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.” -

-

- “Why, what do you mean?” -

-

- For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed - the hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little livid spots, - the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white - wrist. -

-

- “You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes. -

-

- The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He is a - hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.” -

-

- There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his - hands and stared into the crackling fire. -

-

- “This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a thousand - details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course - of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to - Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these - rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?” -

-

- “As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most - important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and - that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, - but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the - way.” -

-

- “Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?” -

-

- “By no means.” -

-

- “Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?” -

-

- “I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in - town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to be - there in time for your coming.” -

-

- “And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some - small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?” -

-

- “No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my - trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this - afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided - from the room. -

-

- “And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, - leaning back in his chair. -

-

- “It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.” -

-

- “Dark enough and sinister enough.” -

-

- “Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are - sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her - sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious - end.” -

-

- “What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very - peculiar words of the dying woman?” -

-

- “I cannot think.” -

-

- “When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a - band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the - fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an - interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying allusion - to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a - metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal - bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think - that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared - along those lines.” -

-

- “But what, then, did the gipsies do?” -

-

- “I cannot imagine.” -

-

- “I see many objections to any such theory.” -

-

- “And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to - Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, - or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!” -

-

- The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our - door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed - himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the - professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long - frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging - in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross - bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side - to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow - with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one - to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, - thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce - old bird of prey. -

-

- “Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition. -

-

- “My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my companion - quietly. -

-

- “I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.” -

-

- “Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.” -

-

- “I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have - traced her. What has she been saying to you?” -

-

- “It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes. -

-

- “What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man furiously. -

-

- “But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my - companion imperturbably. -

-

- “Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step - forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I - have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.” -

-

- My friend smiled. -

-

- “Holmes, the busybody!” -

-

- His smile broadened. -

-

- “Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!” -

-

- Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,” - said he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decided - draught.” -

-

- “I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with my - affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a - dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward, - seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands. -

-

- “See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurling - the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room. -

-

- “He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am not - quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my - grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke he picked up - the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again. -

-

- “Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official - detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, - however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from - her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, - we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors’ - Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this - matter.” -

-

-

- It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his - excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over - with notes and figures. -

-

- “I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determine - its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices - of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which - at the time of the wife’s death was little short of £1100, is now, - through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750. Each - daughter can claim an income of £250, in case of marriage. It is - evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would - have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to - a very serious extent. My morning’s work has not been wasted, since it - has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the - way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for - dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting - ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and - drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip - your revolver into your pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent - argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That - and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need.” -

-

- At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, - where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five - miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a - bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and - wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and - the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at - least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the - spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My - companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat - pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried - in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on - the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows. -

-

- “Look there!” said he. -

-

- A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening - into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted - out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion. -

-

- “Stoke Moran?” said he. -

-

- “Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked the - driver. -

-

- “There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is where - we are going.” -

-

- “There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs - some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, - you’ll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path - over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.” -

-

- “And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading his - eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.” -

-

- We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to - Leatherhead. -

-

- “I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, “that - this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some - definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss - Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word.” -

-

- Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face - which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” she - cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly. - Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back - before evening.” -

-

- “We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,” said - Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss - Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. -

-

- “Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.” -

-

- “So it appears.” -

-

- “He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will - he say when he returns?” -

-

- “He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more - cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from - him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt’s - at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take - us at once to the rooms which we are to examine.” -

-

- The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central - portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on - each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked - with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of - ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the - right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the - windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that - this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected - against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but - there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes - walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep - attention the outsides of the windows. -

-

- “This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the - centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main building to - Dr. Roylott’s chamber?” -

-

- “Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.” -

-

- “Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not - seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.” -

-

- “There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my - room.” -

-

- “Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing - runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows - in it, of course?” -

-

- “Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through.” -

-

- “As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were - unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go - into your room and bar your shutters?” -

-

- Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through - the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, - but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be - passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but - they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” - said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly - presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they - were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon - the matter.” -

-

- A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the - three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so - we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now - sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a - homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after - the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in - one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a - dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, - with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the - room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards - round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so - old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building - of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat - silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, - taking in every detail of the apartment. -

-

- “Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing to - a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually - lying upon the pillow. -

-

- “It goes to the housekeeper’s room.” -

-

- “It looks newer than the other things?” -

-

- “Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.” -

-

- “Your sister asked for it, I suppose?” -

-

- “No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we - wanted for ourselves.” -

-

- “Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You - will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this - floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand - and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the - cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work - with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed - and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and - down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a - brisk tug. -

-

- “Why, it’s a dummy,” said he. -

-

- “Won’t it ring?” -

-

- “No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You - can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little - opening for the ventilator is.” -

-

- “How very absurd! I never noticed that before.” -

-

- “Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one - or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool - a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with - the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!” -

-

- “That is also quite modern,” said the lady. -

-

- “Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes. -

-

- “Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.” -

-

- “They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy - bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your - permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the - inner apartment.” -

-

- Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his - step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small - wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an - armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a - round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met - the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them - with the keenest interest. -

-

- “What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe. -

-

- “My stepfather’s business papers.” -

-

- “Oh! you have seen inside, then?” -

-

- “Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.” -

-

- “There isn’t a cat in it, for example?” -

-

- “No. What a strange idea!” -

-

- “Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on - the top of it. -

-

- “No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.” -

-

- “Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a - saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I - daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He - squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it - with the greatest attention. -

-

- “Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting his - lens in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!” -

-

- The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one - corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied - so as to make a loop of whipcord. -

-

- “What do you make of that, Watson?” -

-

- “It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.” -

-

- “That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world, and - when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I - think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your - permission we shall walk out upon the lawn.” -

-

- I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as it - was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked - several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself - liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his - reverie. -

-

- “It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should - absolutely follow my advice in every respect.” -

-

- “I shall most certainly do so.” -

-

- “The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend - upon your compliance.” -

-

- “I assure you that I am in your hands.” -

-

- “In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your - room.” -

-

- Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment. -

-

- “Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the - village inn over there?” -

-

- “Yes, that is the Crown.” -

-

- “Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?” -

-

- “Certainly.” -

-

- “You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, - when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the - night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put - your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with - everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used - to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could - manage there for one night.” -

-

- “Oh, yes, easily.” -

-

- “The rest you will leave in our hands.” -

-

- “But what will you do?” -

-

- “We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the - cause of this noise which has disturbed you.” -

-

- “I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” said - Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve. -

-

- “Perhaps I have.” -

-

- “Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s - death.” -

-

- “I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.” -

-

- “You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if - she died from some sudden fright.” -

-

- “No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more - tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. - Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, - and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest - assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and - sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from - our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the - inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby - Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure - of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in - undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the - doctor’s voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists - at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden - light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the - sitting-rooms. -

-

- “Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering - darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. - There is a distinct element of danger.” -

-

- “Can I be of assistance?” -

-

- “Your presence might be invaluable.” -

-

- “Then I shall certainly come.” -

-

- “It is very kind of you.” -

-

- “You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than - was visible to me.” -

-

- “No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that - you saw all that I did.” -

-

- “I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that - could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.” -

-

- “You saw the ventilator, too?” -

-

- “Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have - a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could - hardly pass through.” -

-

- “I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke - Moran.” -

-

- “My dear Holmes!” -

-

- “Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her - sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that suggested - at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It - could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the - coroner’s inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.” -

-

- “But what harm can there be in that?” -

-

- “Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator - is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does - not that strike you?” -

-

- “I cannot as yet see any connection.” -

-

- “Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?” -

-

- “No.” -

-

- “It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like - that before?” -

-

- “I cannot say that I have.” -

-

- “The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same - relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may call - it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.” -

-

- “Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We - are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.” -

-

- “Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is - the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and - Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes - even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike - deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is - over; for goodness’ sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds - for a few hours to something more cheerful.” -

-

-

- About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all - was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly - away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single - bright light shone out right in front of us. -

-

- “That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comes - from the middle window.” -

-

- As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, - explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and - that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment - later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, - and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to - guide us on our sombre errand. -

-

- There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired - breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, - we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the - window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed - to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass - with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the - darkness. -

-

- “My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?” -

-

- Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a - vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh - and put his lips to my ear. -

-

- “It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.” -

-

- I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was - a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any - moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following - Holmes’ example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the - bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp - onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had - seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of - his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all - that I could do to distinguish the words: -

-

- “The least sound would be fatal to our plans.” -

-

- I nodded to show that I had heard. -

-

- “We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.” -

-

- I nodded again. -

-

- “Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol - ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, - and you in that chair.” -

-

- I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. -

-

- Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the - bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a - candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness. -

-

- How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, - not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat - open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous - tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of - light, and we waited in absolute darkness. -

-

- From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our - very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah - was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the - parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they - seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and - still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall. -

-

- Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction - of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a - strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room - had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then - all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an - hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became - audible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of - steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard - it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously - with his cane at the bell-pull. -

-

- “You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?” -

-

- But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard - a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes - made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend - lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly - pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and - was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the - silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever - listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and - fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that - away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry - raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and - I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it - had died away into the silence from which it rose. -

-

- “What can it mean?” I gasped. -

-

- “It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after - all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. - Roylott’s room.” -

-

- With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. - Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. - Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked - pistol in my hand. -

-

- It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a - dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of - light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this - table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long - grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet - thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the - short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. - His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, - rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a - peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound - tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor - motion. -

-

- “The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes. -

-

- I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to - move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat - diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. -

-

- “It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. He - has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, - recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he - digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and - we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the - county police know what has happened.” -

-

- As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, and - throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from its horrid - perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into the iron safe, - which he closed upon it. -

-

- -

- Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke - Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has - already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news - to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the - care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official - inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while - indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet - to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled - back next day. -

-

- “I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which - shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from - insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the - word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the - appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of - her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I - can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position - when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened - an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the - door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to - you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the - bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped - to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was - there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to - the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I - coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a - supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the - right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not - possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as - would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern - training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect - would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a - sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark - punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. - Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake - before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, - probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when - summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he - thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and - land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she - might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall - a victim. -

-

- “I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. - An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of - standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he - should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of - milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any - doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss - Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door - of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, - you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the - proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, - and I instantly lit the light and attacked it.” -

-

- “With the result of driving it through the ventilator.” -

-

- “And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the - other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its - snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this - way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s - death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon - my conscience.” -

-
-
-

- IX. The Adventure of the Engineer’s - Thumb -

-

- Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. - Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, there - were only two which I was the means of introducing to his notice—that - of Mr. Hatherley’s thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton’s madness. Of - these the latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and - original observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and - so dramatic in its details that it may be the more worthy of being - placed upon record, even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those - deductive methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable - results. The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the - newspapers, but, like all such narratives, its effect is much less - striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of - print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the - mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step - which leads on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances - made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly - served to weaken the effect. -

-

- It was in the summer of ’89, not long after my marriage, that the - events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned to - civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street - rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally even - persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit - us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at - no very great distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients - from among the officials. One of these, whom I had cured of a painful - and lingering disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues and - of endeavouring to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have - any influence. -

-

- One morning, at a little before seven o’clock, I was awakened by the - maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from - Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed - hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom - trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the - guard, came out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him. -

-

- “I’ve got him here,” he whispered, jerking his thumb over his - shoulder; “he’s all right.” -

-

- “What is it, then?” I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some - strange creature which he had caged up in my room. -

-

- “It’s a new patient,” he whispered. “I thought I’d bring him round - myself; then he couldn’t slip away. There he is, all safe and sound. I - must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you.” And off - he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him. -

-

- I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the - table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft - cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of his hands - he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with - bloodstains. He was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should - say, with a strong, masculine face; but he was exceedingly pale and - gave me the impression of a man who was suffering from some strong - agitation, which it took all his strength of mind to control. -

-

- “I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor,” said he, “but I have - had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by train this - morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a - doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid - a card, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table.” -

-

- I took it up and glanced at it. “Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic - engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the name, style, - and abode of my morning visitor. “I regret that I have kept you - waiting,” said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You are fresh - from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous - occupation.” -

-

- “Oh, my night could not be called monotonous,” said he, and laughed. - He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in - his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up - against that laugh. -

-

- “Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out some - water from a caraffe. -

-

- It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical - outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is - over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and - pale-looking. -

-

- “I have been making a fool of myself,” he gasped. -

-

- “Not at all. Drink this.” I dashed some brandy into the water, and the - colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. -

-

- “That’s better!” said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly - attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be.” -

-

- He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my - hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding - fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the thumb should have - been. It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots. -

-

- “Good heavens!” I cried, “this is a terrible injury. It must have bled - considerably.” -

-

- “Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have - been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that it was - still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly - round the wrist and braced it up with a twig.” -

-

- “Excellent! You should have been a surgeon.” -

-

- “It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own - province.” -

-

- “This has been done,” said I, examining the wound, “by a very heavy - and sharp instrument.” -

-

- “A thing like a cleaver,” said he. -

-

- “An accident, I presume?” -

-

- “By no means.” -

-

- “What! a murderous attack?” -

-

- “Very murderous indeed.” -

-

- “You horrify me.” -

-

- I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it - over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back without - wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. -

-

- “How is that?” I asked when I had finished. -

-

- “Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I - was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.” -

-

- “Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently - trying to your nerves.” -

-

- “Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, - between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this - wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, - for it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not much in the way of - proof with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me, the - clues which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether - justice will be done.” -

-

- “Ha!” cried I, “if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you - desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my - friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police.” -

-

- “Oh, I have heard of that fellow,” answered my visitor, “and I should - be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course I must - use the official police as well. Would you give me an introduction to - him?” -

-

- “I’ll do better. I’ll take you round to him myself.” -

-

- “I should be immensely obliged to you.” -

-

- “We’ll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a - little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?” -

-

- “Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story.” -

-

- “Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an - instant.” I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, - and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new - acquaintance to Baker Street. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting-room in - his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and - smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs - and dottles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully - dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece. He received us - in his quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and - joined us in a hearty meal. When it was concluded he settled our new - acquaintance upon the sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid - a glass of brandy and water within his reach. -

-

- “It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. - Hatherley,” said he. “Pray, lie down there and make yourself - absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired - and keep up your strength with a little stimulant.” -

-

- “Thank you,” said my patient, “but I have felt another man since the - doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the - cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so - I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences.” -

-

- Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression - which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him, - and we listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor - detailed to us. -

-

- “You must know,” said he, “that I am an orphan and a bachelor, - residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic - engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my work during the - seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the - well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time, - and having also come into a fair sum of money through my poor father’s - death, I determined to start in business for myself and took - professional chambers in Victoria Street. -

-

- “I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business - a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. During two - years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is - absolutely all that my profession has brought me. My gross takings - amount to £27 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning until four in - the afternoon, I waited in my little den, until at last my heart began - to sink, and I came to believe that I should never have any practice - at all. -

-

- “Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my - clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see - me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of ‘Colonel - Lysander Stark’ engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the colonel - himself, a man rather over the middle size, but of an exceeding - thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His - whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his - cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this - emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for - his eye was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was - plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be - nearer forty than thirty. -

-

- “ ‘Mr. Hatherley?’ said he, with something of a German accent. ‘You - have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not - only proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of - preserving a secret.’ -

-

- “I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an - address. ‘May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at - this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both an - orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.’ -

-

- “ ‘That is quite correct,’ I answered; ‘but you will excuse me if I - say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional - qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter that - you wished to speak to me?’ -

-

- “ ‘Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to the - point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy - is quite essential—absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we - may expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives - in the bosom of his family.’ -

-

- “ ‘If I promise to keep a secret,’ said I, ‘you may absolutely depend - upon my doing so.’ -

-

- “He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had - never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. -

-

- “ ‘Do you promise, then?’ said he at last. -

-

- “ ‘Yes, I promise.’ -

-

- “ ‘Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No - reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?’ -

-

- “ ‘I have already given you my word.’ -

-

- “ ‘Very good.’ He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning - across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was empty. -

-

- “ ‘That’s all right,’ said he, coming back. ‘I know that clerks are - sometimes curious as to their master’s affairs. Now we can talk in - safety.’ He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to stare at - me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. -

-

- “A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to - rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. Even my - dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my - impatience. -

-

- “ ‘I beg that you will state your business, sir,’ said I; ‘my time is - of value.’ Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words - came to my lips. -

-

- “ ‘How would fifty guineas for a night’s work suit you?’ he asked. -

-

- “ ‘Most admirably.’ -

-

- “ ‘I say a night’s work, but an hour’s would be nearer the mark. I - simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has - got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it - right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as that?’ -

-

- “ ‘The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.’ -

-

- “ ‘Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last - train.’ -

-

- “ ‘Where to?’ -

-

- “ ‘To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders of - Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a train from - Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.’ -

-

- “ ‘Very good.’ -

-

- “ ‘I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.’ -

-

- “ ‘There is a drive, then?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good - seven miles from Eyford Station.’ -

-

- “ ‘Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there would - be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop the - night.’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.’ -

-

- “ ‘That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient - hour?’ -

-

- “ ‘We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to - recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a - young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very - heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw - out of the business, there is plenty of time to do so.’ -

-

- “I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be - to me. ‘Not at all,’ said I, ‘I shall be very happy to accommodate - myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to understand a little - more clearly what it is that you wish me to do.’ -

-

- “ ‘Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we - have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I have no - wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before - you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?’ -

-

- “ ‘Entirely.’ -

-

- “ ‘Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that - fuller’s-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found in one - or two places in England?’ -

-

- “ ‘I have heard so.’ -

-

- “ ‘Some little time ago I bought a small place—a very small - place—within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to discover - that there was a deposit of fuller’s-earth in one of my fields. On - examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively - small one, and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones - upon the right and left—both of them, however, in the grounds of my - neighbours. These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land - contained that which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, - it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its - true value, but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do - this. I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they - suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little - deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would - enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been doing - for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we erected a - hydraulic press. This press, as I have already explained, has got out - of order, and we wish your advice upon the subject. We guard our - secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we - had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, it would soon - rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it would be good-bye - to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our plans. That - is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being - that you are going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all - plain?’ -

-

- “ ‘I quite follow you,’ said I. ‘The only point which I could not - quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in - excavating fuller’s-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like - gravel from a pit.’ -

-

- “ ‘Ah!’ said he carelessly, ‘we have our own process. We compress the - earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what they - are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully into my - confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.’ - He rose as he spoke. ‘I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.’ -

-

- “ ‘I shall certainly be there.’ -

-

- “ ‘And not a word to a soul.’ He looked at me with a last long, - questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp, he - hurried from the room. -

-

- “Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very much - astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission which had - been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the - fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price - upon my own services, and it was possible that this order might lead - to other ones. On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had - made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not think that his - explanation of the fuller’s-earth was sufficient to explain the - necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I - should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the - winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, - having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. -

-

- “At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. - However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the - little dim-lit station after eleven o’clock. I was the only passenger - who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a - single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the - wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting - in the shadow upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm - and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. - He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and - away we went as fast as the horse could go.” -

-

- “One horse?” interjected Holmes. -

-

- “Yes, only one.” -

-

- “Did you observe the colour?” -

-

- “Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the - carriage. It was a chestnut.” -

-

- “Tired-looking or fresh?” -

-

- “Oh, fresh and glossy.” -

-

- “Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your - most interesting statement.” -

-

- “Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel - Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should - think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we - took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in - silence all the time, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced - in his direction, that he was looking at me with great intensity. The - country roads seem to be not very good in that part of the world, for - we lurched and jolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows to - see something of where we were, but they were made of frosted glass, - and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of a - passing light. Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the - monotony of the journey, but the colonel answered only in - monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged. At last, however, - the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a - gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark - sprang out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a - porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of - the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the most - fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that I had - crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, and I heard - faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away. -

-

- “It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about - looking for matches and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door - opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar of - light shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a woman appeared - with a lamp in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing her - face forward and peering at us. I could see that she was pretty, and - from the gloss with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew - that it was a rich material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue - in a tone as though asking a question, and when my companion answered - in a gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly - fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something - in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room from whence she - had come, he walked towards me again with the lamp in his hand. -

-

- “ ‘Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few - minutes,’ said he, throwing open another door. It was a quiet, little, - plainly furnished room, with a round table in the centre, on which - several German books were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp - on the top of a harmonium beside the door. ‘I shall not keep you - waiting an instant,’ said he, and vanished into the darkness. -

-

- “I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance - of German I could see that two of them were treatises on science, the - others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, - hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side, but an oak - shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully - silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the - passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of - uneasiness began to steal over me. Who were these German people, and - what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And - where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I - knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no idea. For that - matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that - radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet it was - quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the - country. I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath - to keep up my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my - fifty-guinea fee. -

-

- “Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter - stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman was - standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her, the - yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face. I - could see at a glance that she was sick with fear, and the sight sent - a chill to my own heart. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to - be silent, and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me, - her eyes glancing back, like those of a frightened horse, into the - gloom behind her. -

-

- “ ‘I would go,’ said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak - calmly; ‘I would go. I should not stay here. There is no good for you - to do.’ -

-

- “ ‘But, madam,’ said I, ‘I have not yet done what I came for. I cannot - possibly leave until I have seen the machine.’ -

-

- “ ‘It is not worth your while to wait,’ she went on. ‘You can pass - through the door; no one hinders.’ And then, seeing that I smiled and - shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step - forward, with her hands wrung together. ‘For the love of Heaven!’ she - whispered, ‘get away from here before it is too late!’ -

-

- “But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage - in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my - fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night - which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should - I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the - payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a - monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had - shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still shook my head and - declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew - her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several - footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, - threw up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly - and as noiselessly as she had come. -

-

- “The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man with - a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who - was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. -

-

- “ ‘This is my secretary and manager,’ said the colonel. ‘By the way, I - was under the impression that I left this door shut just now. I fear - that you have felt the draught.’ -

-

- “ ‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘I opened the door myself because I felt - the room to be a little close.’ -

-

- “He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. ‘Perhaps we had better - proceed to business, then,’ said he. ‘Mr. Ferguson and I will take you - up to see the machine.’ -

-

- “ ‘I had better put my hat on, I suppose.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, no, it is in the house.’ -

-

- “ ‘What, you dig fuller’s-earth in the house?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. All - we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is - wrong with it.’ -

-

- “We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat - manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with - corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, - the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had - crossed them. There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture - above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls, - and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I - tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not - forgotten the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, - and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be - a morose and silent man, but I could see from the little that he said - that he was at least a fellow-countryman. -

-

- “Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he - unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us - could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, and the - colonel ushered me in. -

-

- “ ‘We are now,’ said he, ‘actually within the hydraulic press, and it - would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn - it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the - descending piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons upon - this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside - which receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the - manner which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but - there is some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little - of its force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and - to show us how we can set it right.’ -

-

- “I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly. - It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous - pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers - which controlled it, I knew at once by the whishing sound that there - was a slight leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through - one of the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the - india-rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had - shrunk so as not quite to fill the socket along which it worked. This - was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my - companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several - practical questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. - When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of - the machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. It - was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller’s-earth was the - merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful - an engine could be designed for so inadequate a purpose. The walls - were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when - I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over - it. I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was - when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous - face of the colonel looking down at me. -

-

- “ ‘What are you doing there?’ he asked. -

-

- “I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that - which he had told me. ‘I was admiring your fuller’s-earth,’ said I; ‘I - think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if - I knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.’ -

-

- “The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my - speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in his grey - eyes. -

-

- “ ‘Very well,’ said he, ‘you shall know all about the machine.’ He - took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in - the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was - quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. - ‘Hullo!’ I yelled. ‘Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!’ -

-

- “And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart - into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the - leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood - upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough. By its - light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, - jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must - within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, - screaming, against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I - implored the colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of - the levers drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above - my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough - surface. Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death - would depend very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay - on my face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to - think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, - had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow - wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand erect, when my - eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back to my heart. -

-

- “I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls - were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin - line of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and - broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could - hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. - The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon - the other side. The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of - the lamp, and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of - metal, told me how narrow had been my escape. -

-

- “I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I - found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a - woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held - a candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had - so foolishly rejected. -

-

- “ ‘Come! come!’ she cried breathlessly. ‘They will be here in a - moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the - so-precious time, but come!’ -

-

- “This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my - feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The - latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we - heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one - answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one - beneath. My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her - wit’s end. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, - through the window of which the moon was shining brightly. -

-

- “ ‘It is your only chance,’ said she. ‘It is high, but it may be that - you can jump it.’ -

-

- “As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the - passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing - forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher’s - cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the - window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden - looked in the moonlight, and it could not be more than thirty feet - down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I - should have heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who - pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined - to go back to her assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through - my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but she - threw her arms round him and tried to hold him back. -

-

- “ ‘Fritz! Fritz!’ she cried in English, ‘remember your promise after - the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be silent! Oh, - he will be silent!’ -

-

- “ ‘You are mad, Elise!’ he shouted, struggling to break away from her. - ‘You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I - say!’ He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me - with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and was hanging by the - hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, - my grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below. -

-

- “I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and - rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood - that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I - ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. I glanced down at - my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time, - saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from - my wound. I endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there - came a sudden buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead - faint among the rose-bushes. -

-

- “How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a - very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was - breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with dew, - and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The - smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my - night’s adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I - might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, - when I came to look round me, neither house nor garden were to be - seen. I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, - and just a little lower down was a long building, which proved, upon - my approaching it, to be the very station at which I had arrived upon - the previous night. Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all - that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil - dream. -

-

- “Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning - train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same - porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived. I - inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. - The name was strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night - before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was there a police-station - anywhere near? There was one about three miles off. -

-

- “It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to - wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police. - It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my - wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along - here. I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you - advise.” -

-

- We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this - extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the - shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his - cuttings. -

-

- “Here is an advertisement which will interest you,” said he. “It - appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: ‘Lost, on - the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic - engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o’clock at night, and has not been - heard of since. Was dressed in,’ etc., etc. Ha! That represents the - last time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I - fancy.” -

-

- “Good heavens!” cried my patient. “Then that explains what the girl - said.” -

-

- “Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and - desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand - in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will - leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is - precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard - at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford.” -

-

- Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, - bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were - Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of - Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread - an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was busy with his - compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre. -

-

- “There you are,” said he. “That circle is drawn at a radius of ten - miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that - line. You said ten miles, I think, sir.” -

-

- “It was an hour’s good drive.” -

-

- “And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were - unconscious?” -

-

- “They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been - lifted and conveyed somewhere.” -

-

- “What I cannot understand,” said I, “is why they should have spared - you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the - villain was softened by the woman’s entreaties.” -

-

- “I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my - life.” -

-

- “Oh, we shall soon clear up all that,” said Bradstreet. “Well, I have - drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk - that we are in search of are to be found.” -

-

- “I think I could lay my finger on it,” said Holmes quietly. -

-

- “Really, now!” cried the inspector, “you have formed your opinion! - Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for - the country is more deserted there.” -

-

- “And I say east,” said my patient. -

-

- “I am for west,” remarked the plain-clothes man. “There are several - quiet little villages up there.” -

-

- “And I am for north,” said I, “because there are no hills there, and - our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any.” -

-

- “Come,” cried the inspector, laughing; “it’s a very pretty diversity - of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your - casting vote to?” -

-

- “You are all wrong.” -

-

- “But we can’t all be.” -

-

- “Oh, yes, you can. This is my point.” He placed his finger in the - centre of the circle. “This is where we shall find them.” -

-

- “But the twelve-mile drive?” gasped Hatherley. -

-

- “Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the - horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that if it - had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?” -

-

- “Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough,” observed Bradstreet - thoughtfully. “Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of - this gang.” -

-

- “None at all,” said Holmes. “They are coiners on a large scale, and - have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of - silver.” -

-

- “We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,” said the - inspector. “They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We - even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they - had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old - hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got - them right enough.” -

-

- But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined - to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station we - saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small - clump of trees in the neighbourhood and hung like an immense ostrich - feather over the landscape. -

-

- “A house on fire?” asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on - its way. -

-

- “Yes, sir!” said the station-master. -

-

- “When did it break out?” -

-

- “I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and - the whole place is in a blaze.” -

-

- “Whose house is it?” -

-

- “Dr. Becher’s.” -

-

- “Tell me,” broke in the engineer, “is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, - with a long, sharp nose?” -

-

- The station-master laughed heartily. “No, sir, Dr. Becher is an - Englishman, and there isn’t a man in the parish who has a better-lined - waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I - understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good - Berkshire beef would do him no harm.” -

-

- The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all - hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, - and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us, - spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front - three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under. -

-

- “That’s it!” cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. “There is the - gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That second - window is the one that I jumped from.” -

-

- “Well, at least,” said Holmes, “you have had your revenge upon them. - There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was - crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt - they were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the - time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last - night, though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off - by now.” -

-

- And Holmes’ fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no - word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister - German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met - a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving - rapidly in the direction of Reading, but there all traces of the - fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes’ ingenuity failed ever to - discover the least clue as to their whereabouts. -

-

- The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which - they had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly - severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. About - sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they - subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the - whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted - cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which - had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of - nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house, but no coins - were to be found, which may have explained the presence of those bulky - boxes which have been already referred to. -

-

- How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the - spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a - mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain - tale. He had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom - had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the - whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishman, being less - bold or less murderous than his companion, had assisted the woman to - bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger. -

-

- “Well,” said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once - more to London, “it has been a pretty business for me! I have lost my - thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I gained?” -

-

- “Experience,” said Holmes, laughing. “Indirectly it may be of value, - you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of - being excellent company for the remainder of your existence.” -

-
-
-

- X. The Adventure of the Noble - Bachelor -

-

- The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long - ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which - the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and - their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this - four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the - full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my - friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter - up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little - sketch of this remarkable episode. -

-

- It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was - still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home - from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for - him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a - sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet - which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan - campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one - easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a - cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, - I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and - monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my - friend’s noble correspondent could be. -

-

- “Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. “Your - morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a - tide-waiter.” -

-

- “Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he - answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more interesting. - This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call - upon a man either to be bored or to lie.” -

-

- He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. -

-

- “Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all.” -

-

- “Not social, then?” -

-

- “No, distinctly professional.” -

-

- “And from a noble client?” -

-

- “One of the highest in England.” -

-

- “My dear fellow, I congratulate you.” -

-

- “I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my - client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. - It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in - this new investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of - late, have you not?” -

-

- “It looks like it,” said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the - corner. “I have had nothing else to do.” -

-

- “It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read - nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is - always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely - you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?” -

-

- “Oh, yes, with the deepest interest.” -

-

- “That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. - Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these - papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he - says: -

-
-

- ‘MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:—Lord Backwater tells me that I may - place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I have - determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in - reference to the very painful event which has occurred in connection - with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already - in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no objection to your - co-operation, and that he even thinks that it might be of some - assistance. I will call at four o’clock in the afternoon, and, - should you have any other engagement at that time, I hope that you - will postpone it, as this matter is of paramount importance. Yours - faithfully, -

-
-
“ ‘ST. SIMON.’
-

- “It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and - the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the - outer side of his right little finger,” remarked Holmes as he folded - up the epistle. -

-

- “He says four o’clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour.” -

-

- “Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the - subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their - order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is.” He - picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside - the mantelpiece. “Here he is,” said he, sitting down and flattening it - out upon his knee. “ ‘Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second - son of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hum! ‘Arms: Azure, three caltrops in - chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ He’s forty-one years of age, - which is mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in - a late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary - for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, - and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very - instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for - something more solid.” -

-

- “I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,” said I, “for - the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I - feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an - inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters.” -

-

- “Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture - van. That is quite cleared up now—though, indeed, it was obvious from - the first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections.” -

-

- “Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal - column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks - back: ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ it says, ‘and will, if rumour is - correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, - second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only - daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That - is all.” -

-

- “Terse and to the point,” remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin - legs towards the fire. -

-

- “There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of - the same week. Ah, here it is: ‘There will soon be a call for - protection in the marriage market, for the present free-trade - principle appears to tell heavily against our home product. One by one - the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into - the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An important - addition has been made during the last week to the list of the prizes - which have been borne away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, - who has shown himself for over twenty years proof against the little - god’s arrows, has now definitely announced his approaching marriage - with Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California - millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face - attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only - child, and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to - considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the future. - As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled - to sell his pictures within the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon - has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is - obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an - alliance which will enable her to make the easy and common transition - from a Republican lady to a British peeress.’ ” -

-

- “Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning. -

-

- “Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the - Morning Post - to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it - would be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen - intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would return to - the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. - Aloysius Doran. Two days later—that is, on Wednesday last—there is a - curt announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the - honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. - Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of - the bride.” -

-

- “Before the what?” asked Holmes with a start. -

-

- “The vanishing of the lady.” -

-

- “When did she vanish, then?” -

-

- “At the wedding breakfast.” -

-

- “Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite - dramatic, in fact.” -

-

- “Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.” -

-

- “They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the - honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. - Pray let me have the details.” -

-

- “I warn you that they are very incomplete.” -

-

- “Perhaps we may make them less so.” -

-

- “Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning - paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, ‘Singular - Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding’: -

-

- “ ‘The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the - greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have - taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly - announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous - morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the - strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In - spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much - public attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be - served by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for - conversation. -

-

- “ ‘The ceremony, which was performed at St. George’s, Hanover Square, - was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the - bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, - Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister - of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party - proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster - Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little - trouble was caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, - who endeavoured to force her way into the house after the bridal - party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was - only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the - butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the - house before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast - with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and - retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some comment, - her father followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only - come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, - and hurried down to the passage. One of the footmen declared that he - had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had refused to - credit that it was his mistress, believing her to be with the company. - On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, - in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in - communication with the police, and very energetic inquiries are being - made, which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very - singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had - transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are - rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police - have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original - disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, - she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the - bride.’ ” -

-

- “And is that all?” -

-

- “Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a - suggestive one.” -

-

- “And it is—” -

-

- “That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has - actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a - danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom - for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case - is in your hands now—so far as it has been set forth in the public - press.” -

-

- “And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not - have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, - and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt - that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, - Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to - my own memory.” -

-

- “Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page-boy, throwing open the - door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed - and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and - with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had - ever been to command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet - his general appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a - slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His - hair, too, as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled - round the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful - to the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white - waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured - gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left - to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his - golden eyeglasses. -

-

- “Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray take - the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up - a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over.” -

-

- “A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. - Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have - already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I - presume that they were hardly from the same class of society.” -

-

- “No, I am descending.” -

-

- “I beg pardon.” -

-

- “My last client of the sort was a king.” -

-

- “Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?” -

-

- “The King of Scandinavia.” -

-

- “What! Had he lost his wife?” -

-

- “You can understand,” said Holmes suavely, “that I extend to the - affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in - yours.” -

-

- “Of course! Very right! very right! I’m sure I beg pardon. As to my - own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you - in forming an opinion.” -

-

- “Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, - nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct—this article, - for example, as to the disappearance of the bride.” -

-

- Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it is correct, as far as it - goes.” -

-

- “But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer - an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by - questioning you.” -

-

- “Pray do so.” -

-

- “When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?” -

-

- “In San Francisco, a year ago.” -

-

- “You were travelling in the States?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Did you become engaged then?” -

-

- “No.” -

-

- “But you were on a friendly footing?” -

-

- “I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused.” -

-

- “Her father is very rich?” -

-

- “He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope.” -

-

- “And how did he make his money?” -

-

- “In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, - invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds.” -

-

- “Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady’s—your wife’s - character?” -

-

- The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into - the fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “my wife was twenty before - her father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a - mining camp and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her - education has come from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She - is what we call in England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and - free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She is impetuous—volcanic, - I was about to say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in - carrying out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have - given her the name which I have the honour to bear”—he gave a little - stately cough—“had I not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I - believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything - dishonourable would be repugnant to her.” -

-

- “Have you her photograph?” -

-

- “I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us the full - face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory - miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect of the - lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. - Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and - handed it back to Lord St. Simon. -

-

- “The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your - acquaintance?” -

-

- “Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met - her several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her.” -

-

- “She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?” -

-

- “A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family.” -

-

- “And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a - fait accompli?” -

-

- “I really have made no inquiries on the subject.” -

-

- “Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the - wedding?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Was she in good spirits?” -

-

- “Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future - lives.” -

-

- “Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?” -

-

- “She was as bright as possible—at least until after the ceremony.” -

-

- “And did you observe any change in her then?” -

-

- “Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever - seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident however, - was too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing upon the - case.” -

-

- “Pray let us have it, for all that.” -

-

- “Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards the - vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over - into the pew. There was a moment’s delay, but the gentleman in the pew - handed it up to her again, and it did not appear to be the worse for - the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered me - abruptly; and in the carriage, on our way home, she seemed absurdly - agitated over this trifling cause.” -

-

- “Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the - general public were present, then?” -

-

- “Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open.” -

-

- “This gentleman was not one of your wife’s friends?” -

-

- “No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a - common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But really I - think that we are wandering rather far from the point.” -

-

- “Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful - frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do on re-entering - her father’s house?” -

-

- “I saw her in conversation with her maid.” -

-

- “And who is her maid?” -

-

- “Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with - her.” -

-

- “A confidential servant?” -

-

- “A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed her - to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they look upon - these things in a different way.” -

-

- “How long did she speak to this Alice?” -

-

- “Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of.” -

-

- “You did not overhear what they said?” -

-

- “Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She was - accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant.” -

-

- “American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife - do when she finished speaking to her maid?” -

-

- “She walked into the breakfast-room.” -

-

- “On your arm?” -

-

- “No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. - Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, - muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She never came - back.” -

-

- “But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her - room, covered her bride’s dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, - and went out.” -

-

- “Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in - company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had - already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that morning.” -

-

- “Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and - your relations to her.” -

-

- Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “We - have been on a friendly footing for some years—I may say on a - very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have - not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint - against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear - little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. - She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was about to be - married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage - celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a scandal - in the church. She came to Mr. Doran’s door just after we returned, - and she endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive - expressions towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had - foreseen the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two - police fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out - again. She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a - row.” -

-

- “Did your wife hear all this?” -

-

- “No, thank goodness, she did not.” -

-

- “And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?” -

-

- “Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so - serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some - terrible trap for her.” -

-

- “Well, it is a possible supposition.” -

-

- “You think so, too?” -

-

- “I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this - as likely?” -

-

- “I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.” -

-

- “Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is - your own theory as to what took place?” -

-

- “Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have - given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it - has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the - consciousness that she had made so immense a social stride, had the - effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife.” -

-

- “In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?” -

-

- “Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back—I will not - say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without - success—I can hardly explain it in any other fashion.” -

-

- “Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis,” said Holmes, - smiling. “And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my - data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that - you could see out of the window?” -

-

- “We could see the other side of the road and the Park.” -

-

- “Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I - shall communicate with you.” -

-

- “Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our - client, rising. -

-

- “I have solved it.” -

-

- “Eh? What was that?” -

-

- “I say that I have solved it.” -

-

- “Where, then, is my wife?” -

-

- “That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.” -

-

- Lord St. Simon shook his head. “I am afraid that it will take wiser - heads than yours or mine,” he remarked, and bowing in a stately, - old-fashioned manner he departed. -

-

- “It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on - a level with his own,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “I think that I - shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this - cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before - our client came into the room.” -

-

- “My dear Holmes!” -

-

- “I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked - before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to - turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is - occasionally very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to - quote Thoreau’s example.” -

-

- “But I have heard all that you have heard.” -

-

- “Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me - so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, - and something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the - Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these cases—but, hullo, here is - Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler - upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box.” -

-

- The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which - gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black - canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated himself and - lit the cigar which had been offered to him. -

-

- “What’s up, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You look - dissatisfied.” -

-

- “And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. - I can make neither head nor tail of the business.” -

-

- “Really! You surprise me.” -

-

- “Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip - through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day.” -

-

- “And very wet it seems to have made you,” said Holmes laying his hand - upon the arm of the pea-jacket. -

-

- “Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine.” -

-

- “In heaven’s name, what for?” -

-

- “In search of the body of Lady St. Simon.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. -

-

- “Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?” he asked. -

-

- “Why? What do you mean?” -

-

- “Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the - one as in the other.” -

-

- Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. “I suppose you know all - about it,” he snarled. -

-

- “Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up.” -

-

- “Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the - matter?” -

-

- “I think it very unlikely.” -

-

- “Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in - it?” He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a - wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a - bride’s wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. “There,” - said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile. “There - is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes.” -

-

- “Oh, indeed!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. “You - dragged them from the Serpentine?” -

-

- “No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. They - have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the - clothes were there the body would not be far off.” -

-

- “By the same brilliant reasoning, every man’s body is to be found in - the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to - arrive at through this?” -

-

- “At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance.” -

-

- “I am afraid that you will find it difficult.” -

-

- “Are you, indeed, now?” cried Lestrade with some bitterness. “I am - afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions - and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. - This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.” -

-

- “And how?” -

-

- “In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the - card-case is a note. And here is the very note.” He slapped it down - upon the table in front of him. “Listen to this: ‘You will see me when - all is ready. Come at once. F. H. M.’ Now my theory all along has been - that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, - with confederates, no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. - Here, signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt - quietly slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within - their reach.” -

-

- “Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing. “You really are very - fine indeed. Let me see it.” He took up the paper in a listless way, - but his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry - of satisfaction. “This is indeed important,” said he. -

-

- “Ha! you find it so?” -

-

- “Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly.” -

-

- Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. “Why,” he - shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!” -

-

- “On the contrary, this is the right side.” -

-

- “The right side? You’re mad! Here is the note written in pencil over - here.” -

-

- “And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, - which interests me deeply.” -

-

- “There’s nothing in it. I looked at it before,” said Lestrade. “ ‘Oct. - 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. 6d., glass - sherry, 8d.’ I see nothing in that.” -

-

- “Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the note, - it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate - you again.” -

-

- “I’ve wasted time enough,” said Lestrade, rising. “I believe in hard - work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good-day, - Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter - first.” He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and - made for the door. -

-

- “Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival - vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. - Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such - person.” -

-

- Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped - his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away. -

-

- He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on his - overcoat. “There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor - work,” he remarked, “so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your - papers for a little.” -

-

- It was after five o’clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no - time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner’s - man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a - youth whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great - astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid - out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of - brace of cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie - with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all - these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the - Arabian Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid - for and were ordered to this address. -

-

- Just before nine o’clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the - room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye - which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his - conclusions. -

-

- “They have laid the supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands. -

-

- “You seem to expect company. They have laid for five.” -

-

- “Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in,” said he. “I am - surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy - that I hear his step now upon the stairs.” -

-

- It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, - dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very - perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. -

-

- “My messenger reached you, then?” asked Holmes. -

-

- “Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have - you good authority for what you say?” -

-

- “The best possible.” -

-

- Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his - forehead. -

-

- “What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that one of the - family has been subjected to such humiliation?” -

-

- “It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any - humiliation.” -

-

- “Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint.” -

-

- “I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady - could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was - undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to - advise her at such a crisis.” -

-

- “It was a slight, sir, a public slight,” said Lord St. Simon, tapping - his fingers upon the table. -

-

- “You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so - unprecedented a position.” -

-

- “I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been - shamefully used.” -

-

- “I think that I heard a ring,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are steps on - the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the - matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be - more successful.” He opened the door and ushered in a lady and - gentleman. “Lord St. Simon,” said he “allow me to introduce you to Mr. - and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already - met.” -

-

- At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat - and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into - the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady - had taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but - he still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, - perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist. -

-

- “You’re angry, Robert,” said she. “Well, I guess you have every cause - to be.” -

-

- “Pray make no apology to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly. -

-

- “Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should - have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from - the time when I saw Frank here again I just didn’t know what I was - doing or saying. I only wonder I didn’t fall down and do a faint right - there before the altar.” -

-

- “Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the - room while you explain this matter?” -

-

- “If I may give an opinion,” remarked the strange gentleman, “we’ve had - just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my - part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it.” - He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face - and alert manner. -

-

- “Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank here and - I met in ’84, in McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies, where Pa was - working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then - one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank - here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer Pa - grew the poorer was Frank; so at last Pa wouldn’t hear of our - engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to ’Frisco. Frank - wouldn’t throw up his hand, though; so he followed me there, and he - saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made - him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said - that he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to claim - me until he had as much as Pa. So then I promised to wait for him to - the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he - lived. ‘Why shouldn’t we be married right away, then,’ said he, ‘and - then I will feel sure of you; and I won’t claim to be your husband - until I come back?’ Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all - up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did - it right there; and then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I - went back to Pa. -

-

- “The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he - went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. - After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners’ camp had - been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank’s name among - the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. - Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. - Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted - that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and - we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very - pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever - take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. -

-

- “Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done my - duty by him. We can’t command our love, but we can our actions. I went - to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a - wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just - as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing - and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at - first; but when I looked again there he was still, with a kind of - question in his eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to - see him. I wonder I didn’t drop. I know that everything was turning - round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee - in my ear. I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop the service and - make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to - know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell - me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I - knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out - I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the note into my hand - when he returned me the flowers. It was only a line asking me to join - him when he made the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted - for a moment that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do - just whatever he might direct. -

-

- “When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and - had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a - few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken - to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all - those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain - afterwards. I hadn’t been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank - out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and - then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and - followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord - St. Simon to me—seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a - little secret of his own before marriage also—but I managed to get - away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and - away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that - was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a - prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to ’Frisco, found - that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me - there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second - wedding.” -

-

- “I saw it in a paper,” explained the American. “It gave the name and - the church but not where the lady lived.” -

-

- “Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for - openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should - like to vanish away and never see any of them again—just sending a - line to Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me - to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that - breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my - wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that I should - not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find - them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, - only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this - evening, though how he found us is more than I can think, and he - showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was - right, and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were - so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. - Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at once. - Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have - given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me.” -

-

- Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had - listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long - narrative. -

-

- “Excuse me,” he said, “but it is not my custom to discuss my most - intimate personal affairs in this public manner.” -

-

- “Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?” -

-

- “Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure.” He put out his - hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. -

-

- “I had hoped,” suggested Holmes, “that you would have joined us in a - friendly supper.” -

-

- “I think that there you ask a little too much,” responded his - Lordship. “I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, - but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that - with your permission I will now wish you all a very good-night.” He - included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. -

-

- “Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company,” - said Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. - Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch - and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent - our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide - country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack - with the Stars and Stripes.” -

-

- -

- “The case has been an interesting one,” remarked Holmes when our - visitors had left us, “because it serves to show very clearly how - simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems - to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the - sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than - the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland - Yard.” -

-

- “You were not yourself at fault at all, then?” -

-

- “From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the - lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other - that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. - Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause - her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not - have spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the - company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it - must be someone from America because she had spent so short a time in - this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so - deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her - to change her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by - a process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an - American. Then who could this American be, and why should he possess - so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a - husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes - and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard - Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the - change in the bride’s manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining - a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential - maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping—which in - miners’ parlance means taking possession of that which another person - has a prior claim to—the whole situation became absolutely clear. She - had gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a - previous husband—the chances being in favour of the latter.” -

-

- “And how in the world did you find them?” -

-

- “It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in - his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials - were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still - was it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of - the most select London hotels.” -

-

- “How did you deduce the select?” -

-

- “By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a - glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are - not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which - I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the - book that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the - day before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon - the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters - were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and - being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured - to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it - would be better in every way that they should make their position a - little clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in - particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made - him keep the appointment.” -

-

- “But with no very good result,” I remarked. “His conduct was certainly - not very gracious.” -

-

- “Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be very - gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you - found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think - that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars - that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw - your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have - still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.” -

-
-
-

- XI. The Adventure of the Beryl - Coronet -

-

- “Holmes,” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down - the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that - his relatives should allow him to come out alone.” -

-

- My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in - the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a - bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still - lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down - the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly - band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of - the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey - pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously - slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed, from - the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the - single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. -

-

- He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a - massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed - in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat - brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were - in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he - was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man - gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he ran - he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his - face into the most extraordinary contortions. -

-

- “What on earth can be the matter with him?” I asked. “He is looking up - at the numbers of the houses.” -

-

- “I believe that he is coming here,” said Holmes, rubbing his hands. -

-

- “Here?” -

-

- “Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I - think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?” As he - spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at - our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging. -

-

- A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still - gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his - eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity. For - a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and - plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits - of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head - against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore - him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes pushed him down - into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and - chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he knew so well how - to employ. -

-

- “You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?” said he. “You - are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered - yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little - problem which you may submit to me.” -

-

- The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting - against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow, - set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. -

-

- “No doubt you think me mad?” said he. -

-

- “I see that you have had some great trouble,” responded Holmes. -

-

- “God knows I have!—a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so - sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced, - although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. - Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming - together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my - very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land - may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair.” -

-

- “Pray compose yourself, sir,” said Holmes, “and let me have a clear - account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you.” -

-

- “My name,” answered our visitor, “is probably familiar to your ears. I - am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, - of Threadneedle Street.” -

-

- The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior - partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of - London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost - citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all - curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his - story. -

-

- “I feel that time is of value,” said he; “that is why I hastened here - when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your - co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried - from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is - why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little - exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as - shortly and yet as clearly as I can. -

-

- “It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking - business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative - investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and - the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of - laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is - unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the - last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have - advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries, or - plate. -

-

- “Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card - was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the - name, for it was that of none other than—well, perhaps even to you I - had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household - word all over the earth—one of the highest, noblest, most exalted - names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when - he entered, to say so, but he plunged at once into business with the - air of a man who wishes to hurry quickly through a disagreeable task. -

-

- “ ‘Mr. Holder,’ said he, ‘I have been informed that you are in the - habit of advancing money.’ -

-

- “ ‘The firm does so when the security is good.’ I answered. -

-

- “ ‘It is absolutely essential to me,’ said he, ‘that I should have - £50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten - times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of - business and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can - readily understand that it is unwise to place one’s self under - obligations.’ -

-

- “ ‘For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?’ I asked. -

-

- “ ‘Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most - certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it - right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should - be paid at once.’ -

-

- “ ‘I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own - private purse,’ said I, ‘were it not that the strain would be rather - more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the - name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, - even in your case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.’ -

-

- “ ‘I should much prefer to have it so,’ said he, raising up a square, - black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. ‘You have - doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?’ -

-

- “ ‘One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,’ said I. -

-

- “ ‘Precisely.’ He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, - flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he - had named. ‘There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,’ said he, ‘and the - price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would - put the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I - am prepared to leave it with you as my security.’ -

-

- “I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity - from it to my illustrious client. -

-

- “ ‘You doubt its value?’ he asked. -

-

- “ ‘Not at all. I only doubt—’ -

-

- “ ‘The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest about - that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain - that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter - of form. Is the security sufficient?’ -

-

- “ ‘Ample.’ -

-

- “ ‘You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of - the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard - of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from - all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet - with every possible precaution because I need not say that a great - public scandal would be caused if any harm were to befall it. Any - injury to it would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for - there are no beryls in the world to match these, and it would be - impossible to replace them. I leave it with you, however, with every - confidence, and I shall call for it in person on Monday morning.’ -

-

- “Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, - calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty £1000 notes. - When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon - the table in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings - of the immense responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could - be no doubt that, as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal - would ensue if any misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted - having ever consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late - to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and - turned once more to my work. -

-

- “When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so - precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers’ safes had been - forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible - would be the position in which I should find myself! I determined, - therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the case - backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of - my reach. With this intention, I called a cab and drove out to my - house at Streatham, carrying the jewel with me. I did not breathe - freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my - dressing-room. -

-

- “And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to - thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep out of - the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants - who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability - is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, - has only been in my service a few months. She came with an excellent - character, however, and has always given me satisfaction. She is a - very pretty girl and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung - about the place. That is the only drawback which we have found to her, - but we believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. -

-

- “So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it will - not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, - Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes—a grievous - disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell - me that I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died - I felt that he was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the - smile fade even for a moment from his face. I have never denied him a - wish. Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been - sterner, but I meant it for the best. -

-

- “It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my - business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, - and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of - large sums of money. When he was young he became a member of an - aristocratic club, and there, having charming manners, he was soon the - intimate of a number of men with long purses and expensive habits. He - learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money on the turf, - until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give him - an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of - honour. He tried more than once to break away from the dangerous - company which he was keeping, but each time the influence of his - friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again. -

-

- “And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George - Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently - brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly - resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man - of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen - everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. - Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of - his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look - which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply - distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a - woman’s quick insight into character. -

-

- “And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when - my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I - adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She - is a sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager - and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could - be. She is my right hand. I do not know what I could do without her. - In only one matter has she ever gone against my wishes. Twice my boy - has asked her to marry him, for he loves her devotedly, but each time - she has refused him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him into - the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might - have changed his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too - late! -

-

- “Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I - shall continue with my miserable story. -

-

- “When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after - dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious - treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my - client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left - the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur - were much interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I - thought it better not to disturb it. -

-

- “ ‘Where have you put it?’ asked Arthur. -

-

- “ ‘In my own bureau.’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, I hope to goodness the house won’t be burgled during the - night.’ said he. -

-

- “ ‘It is locked up,’ I answered. -

-

- “ ‘Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have - opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.’ -

-

- “He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what - he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with a very - grave face. -

-

- “ ‘Look here, dad,’ said he with his eyes cast down, ‘can you let me - have £200?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, I cannot!’ I answered sharply. ‘I have been far too generous - with you in money matters.’ -

-

- “ ‘You have been very kind,’ said he, ‘but I must have this money, or - else I can never show my face inside the club again.’ -

-

- “ ‘And a very good thing, too!’ I cried. -

-

- “ ‘Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,’ said - he. ‘I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some - way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.’ -

-

- “I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month. - ‘You shall not have a farthing from me,’ I cried, on which he bowed - and left the room without another word. -

-

- “When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was - safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the house to see - that all was secure—a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I - thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the - stairs I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she - closed and fastened as I approached. -

-

- “ ‘Tell me, dad,’ said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, - ‘did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?’ -

-

- “ ‘Certainly not.’ -

-

- “ ‘She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has - only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is - hardly safe and should be stopped.’ -

-

- “ ‘You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer it. - Are you sure that everything is fastened?’ -

-

- “ ‘Quite sure, dad.’ -

-

- “ ‘Then, good-night.’ I kissed her and went up to my bedroom again, - where I was soon asleep. -

-

- “I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may have - any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon - any point which I do not make clear.” -

-

- “On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid.” -

-

- “I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be - particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my - mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two - in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It - had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind - it as though a window had gently closed somewhere. I lay listening - with all my ears. Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound - of footsteps moving softly in the next room. I slipped out of bed, all - palpitating with fear, and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room - door. -

-

- “ ‘Arthur!’ I screamed, ‘you villain! you thief! How dare you touch - that coronet?’ -

-

- “The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, dressed - only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding - the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or - bending it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his - grasp and turned as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. - One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing. -

-

- “ ‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You have - destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels - which you have stolen?’ -

-

- “ ‘Stolen!’ he cried. -

-

- “ ‘Yes, thief!’ I roared, shaking him by the shoulder. -

-

- “ ‘There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,’ said he. -

-

- “ ‘There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call - you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off - another piece?’ -

-

- “ ‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it any - longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you - have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and - make my own way in the world.’ -

-

- “ ‘You shall leave it in the hands of the police!’ I cried half-mad - with grief and rage. ‘I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.’ -

-

- “ ‘You shall learn nothing from me,’ said he with a passion such as I - should not have thought was in his nature. ‘If you choose to call the - police, let the police find what they can.’ -

-

- “By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in - my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight - of the coronet and of Arthur’s face, she read the whole story and, - with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the - house-maid for the police and put the investigation into their hands - at once. When the inspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, - who had stood sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was - my intention to charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased - to be a private matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined - coronet was national property. I was determined that the law should - have its way in everything. -

-

- “ ‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It - would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house - for five minutes.’ -

-

- “ ‘That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you - have stolen,’ said I. And then, realising the dreadful position in - which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honour - but that of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he - threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation. He - might avert it all if he would but tell me what he had done with the - three missing stones. -

-

- “ ‘You may as well face the matter,’ said I; ‘you have been caught in - the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. If you - but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the - beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.’ -

-

- “ ‘Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,’ he answered, - turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened for - any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I - called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search was made - at once not only of his person but of his room and of every portion of - the house where he could possibly have concealed the gems; but no - trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open his - mouth for all our persuasions and our threats. This morning he was - removed to a cell, and I, after going through all the police - formalities, have hurried round to you to implore you to use your - skill in unravelling the matter. The police have openly confessed that - they can at present make nothing of it. You may go to any expense - which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of £1000. - My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son in - one night. Oh, what shall I do!” -

-

- He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to and - fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words. -

-

- Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows - knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. -

-

- “Do you receive much company?” he asked. -

-

- “None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of - Arthur’s. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one - else, I think.” -

-

- “Do you go out much in society?” -

-

- “Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it.” -

-

- “That is unusual in a young girl.” -

-

- “She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is - four-and-twenty.” -

-

- “This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her - also.” -

-

- “Terrible! She is even more affected than I.” -

-

- “You have neither of you any doubt as to your son’s guilt?” -

-

- “How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in - his hands.” -

-

- “I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the - coronet at all injured?” -

-

- “Yes, it was twisted.” -

-

- “Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten - it?” -

-

- “God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it - is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose - were innocent, why did he not say so?” -

-

- “Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His - silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular - points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which - awoke you from your sleep?” -

-

- “They considered that it might be caused by Arthur’s closing his - bedroom door.” -

-

- “A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door so as - to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance of - these gems?” -

-

- “They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the - hope of finding them.” -

-

- “Have they thought of looking outside the house?” -

-

- “Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has - already been minutely examined.” -

-

- “Now, my dear sir,” said Holmes, “is it not obvious to you now that - this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or the - police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a - simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is - involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came down from his - bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, opened your bureau, - took out your coronet, broke off by main force a small portion of it, - went off to some other place, concealed three gems out of the - thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then - returned with the other thirty-six into the room in which he exposed - himself to the greatest danger of being discovered. I ask you now, is - such a theory tenable?” -

-

- “But what other is there?” cried the banker with a gesture of despair. - “If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?” -

-

- “It is our task to find that out,” replied Holmes; “so now, if you - please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote - an hour to glancing a little more closely into details.” -

-

- My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, - which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were - deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that - the guilt of the banker’s son appeared to me to be as obvious as it - did to his unhappy father, but still I had such faith in Holmes’ - judgment that I felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long - as he was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation. He hardly spoke - a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with his chin - upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest - thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little - glimpse of hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke - into a desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short - railway journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest - residence of the great financier. -

-

- Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a - little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, - stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed the - entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into - a narrow path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the - kitchen door, and forming the tradesmen’s entrance. On the left ran a - lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the grounds - at all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left - us standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across - the front, down the tradesmen’s path, and so round by the garden - behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I went - into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return. We - were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady - came in. She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair - and eyes, which seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her - skin. I do not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a - woman’s face. Her lips, too, were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed - with crying. As she swept silently into the room she impressed me with - a greater sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and - it was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong - character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my - presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand over his - head with a sweet womanly caress. -

-

- “You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you not, - dad?” she asked. -

-

- “No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom.” -

-

- “But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman’s instincts - are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will be sorry for - having acted so harshly.” -

-

- “Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?” -

-

- “Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should suspect - him.” -

-

- “How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with the - coronet in his hand?” -

-

- “Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take my - word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say no more. - It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!” -

-

- “I shall never let it drop until the gems are found—never, Mary! Your - affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me. - Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from - London to inquire more deeply into it.” -

-

- “This gentleman?” she asked, facing round to me. -

-

- “No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in the - stable lane now.” -

-

- “The stable lane?” She raised her dark eyebrows. “What can he hope to - find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that you will - succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin - Arthur is innocent of this crime.” -

-

- “I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove - it,” returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from his - shoes. “I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mary Holder. - Might I ask you a question or two?” -

-

- “Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up.” -

-

- “You heard nothing yourself last night?” -

-

- “Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard that, and - I came down.” -

-

- “You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you fasten - all the windows?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Were they all fastened this morning?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked to - your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?” -

-

- “Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and who may - have heard uncle’s remarks about the coronet.” -

-

- “I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her sweetheart, - and that the two may have planned the robbery.” -

-

- “But what is the good of all these vague theories,” cried the banker - impatiently, “when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the coronet - in his hands?” -

-

- “Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this - girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I presume?” -

-

- “Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met - her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom.” -

-

- “Do you know him?” -

-

- “Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. His - name is Francis Prosper.” -

-

- “He stood,” said Holmes, “to the left of the door—that is to say, - farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?” -

-

- “Yes, he did.” -

-

- “And he is a man with a wooden leg?” -

-

- Something like fear sprang up in the young lady’s expressive black - eyes. “Why, you are like a magician,” said she. “How do you know - that?” She smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes’ thin, - eager face. -

-

- “I should be very glad now to go upstairs,” said he. “I shall probably - wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps I had better - take a look at the lower windows before I go up.” -

-

- He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the - large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. This he - opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with his - powerful magnifying lens. “Now we shall go upstairs,” said he at last. -

-

- The banker’s dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, - with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to - the bureau first and looked hard at the lock. -

-

- “Which key was used to open it?” he asked. -

-

- “That which my son himself indicated—that of the cupboard of the - lumber-room.” -

-

- “Have you it here?” -

-

- “That is it on the dressing-table.” -

-

- Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau. -

-

- “It is a noiseless lock,” said he. “It is no wonder that it did not - wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a - look at it.” He opened the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it - upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller’s art, - and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I have ever seen. At - one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding - three gems had been torn away. -

-

- “Now, Mr. Holder,” said Holmes, “here is the corner which corresponds - to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you - will break it off.” -

-

- The banker recoiled in horror. “I should not dream of trying,” said - he. -

-

- “Then I will.” Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but without - result. “I feel it give a little,” said he; “but, though I am - exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to - break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think - would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise - like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this happened within a few - yards of your bed and that you heard nothing of it?” -

-

- “I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me.” -

-

- “But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, Miss - Holder?” -

-

- “I confess that I still share my uncle’s perplexity.” -

-

- “Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?” -

-

- “He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt.” -

-

- “Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck - during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault if we do - not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your permission, Mr. - Holder, I shall now continue my investigations outside.” -

-

- He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any - unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour - or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with - snow and his features as inscrutable as ever. -

-

- “I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. Holder,” - said he; “I can serve you best by returning to my rooms.” -

-

- “But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?” -

-

- “I cannot tell.” -

-

- The banker wrung his hands. “I shall never see them again!” he cried. - “And my son? You give me hopes?” -

-

- “My opinion is in no way altered.” -

-

- “Then, for God’s sake, what was this dark business which was acted in - my house last night?” -

-

- “If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning - between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it - clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for - you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you place no - limit on the sum I may draw.” -

-

- “I would give my fortune to have them back.” -

-

- “Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. - Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again - before evening.” -

-

- It was obvious to me that my companion’s mind was now made up about - the case, although what his conclusions were was more than I could - even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I - endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to - some other topic, until at last I gave it over in despair. It was not - yet three when we found ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried - to his chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common - loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red - cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class. -

-

- “I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass above - the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I - fear that it won’t do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may - be following a will-o’-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I - hope that I may be back in a few hours.” He cut a slice of beef from - the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of - bread, and thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off - upon his expedition. -

-

- I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent - spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked it - down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea. -

-

- “I only looked in as I passed,” said he. “I am going right on.” -

-

- “Where to?” -

-

- “Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time before I - get back. Don’t wait up for me in case I should be late.” -

-

- “How are you getting on?” -

-

- “Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham since - I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a very sweet - little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. - However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these - disreputable clothes off and return to my highly respectable self.” -

-

- I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for - satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, and - there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened - upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, - which told me that he was off once more upon his congenial hunt. -

-

- I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I - retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for - days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his - lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, - but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a - cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and - trim as possible. -

-

- “You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,” said he, “but you - remember that our client has rather an early appointment this - morning.” -

-

- “Why, it is after nine now,” I answered. “I should not be surprised if - that were he. I thought I heard a ring.” -

-

- It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change - which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad - and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair - seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and - lethargy which was even more painful than his violence of the morning - before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed - forward for him. -

-

- “I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he. - “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in - the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow - comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted - me.” -

-

- “Deserted you?” -

-

- “Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was empty, - and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her last - night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all - might have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say - so. It is to that remark that she refers in this note: -

-
-

- ‘MY DEAREST UNCLE:—I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and - that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never - have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be - happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do - not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, - do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an - ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving -

-
-
“ ‘MARY.’
-

- “What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it points - to suicide?” -

-

- “No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible - solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your - troubles.” -

-

- “Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have - learned something! Where are the gems?” -

-

- “You would not think £1000 apiece an excessive sum for them?” -

-

- “I would pay ten.” -

-

- “That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And - there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? Here is a - pen. Better make it out for £4000.” -

-

- With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes - walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold - with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. -

-

- With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up. -

-

- “You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!” -

-

- The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and he - hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. -

-

- “There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder,” said Sherlock Holmes - rather sternly. -

-

- “Owe!” He caught up a pen. “Name the sum, and I will pay it.” -

-

- “No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that - noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I - should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have - one.” -

-

- “Then it was not Arthur who took them?” -

-

- “I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.” -

-

- “You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know - that the truth is known.” -

-

- “He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview - with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it - to him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the - very few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of - this morning, however, may open his lips.” -

-

- “For heaven’s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary - mystery!” -

-

- “I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. - And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say - and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir - George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.” -

-

- “My Mary? Impossible!” -

-

- “It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you - nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him - into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in - England—a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man - without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When - he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, - she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil - knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in - the habit of seeing him nearly every evening.” -

-

- “I cannot, and I will not, believe it!” cried the banker with an ashen - face. -

-

- “I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your - niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down - and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable - lane. His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he - stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold - kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that - she loved you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover - extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she must have been one. - She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming - downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about - one of the servants’ escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was - all perfectly true. -

-

- “Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he - slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the - middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose - and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very - stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your - dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some - clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of this - strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the - light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious - coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling - with horror, ran along and slipped behind the curtain near your door, - whence he could see what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her - stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the - gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing - quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain. -

-

- “As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without - a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that - she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for - you, and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, - just as he was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into - the snow, and ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in - the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur - caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at - one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the - scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then - something suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the - coronet in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your - room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the - struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon - the scene.” -

-

- “Is it possible?” gasped the banker. -

-

- “You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he - felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain - the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved - little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous - view, however, and preserved her secret.” -

-

- “And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet,” - cried Mr. Holder. “Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his - asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow - wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. - How cruelly I have misjudged him!” -

-

- “When I arrived at the house,” continued Holmes, “I at once went very - carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow - which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening - before, and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve - impressions. I passed along the tradesmen’s path, but found it all - trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, however, at the - far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood and talked with a man, - whose round impressions on one side showed that he had a wooden leg. I - could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had run - back swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel - marks, while Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I - thought at the time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of - whom you had already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I - passed round the garden without seeing anything more than random - tracks, which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable - lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in front of - me. -

-

- “There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second - double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked - feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the - latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had - run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over the depression - of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed after the other. I - followed them up and found they led to the hall window, where Boots - had worn all the snow away while waiting. Then I walked to the other - end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane. I saw where - Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had - been a struggle, and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, - to show me that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, - and another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been - hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that the - pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue. -

-

- “On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill - and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see - that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an - instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then - beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man - had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed - had been overseen by your son; he had pursued the thief; had struggled - with him; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength - causing injuries which neither alone could have effected. He had - returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his - opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man - and who was it brought him the coronet? -

-

- “It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the - impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. - Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only - remained your niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why - should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There - could be no possible reason. As he loved his cousin, however, there - was an excellent explanation why he should retain her secret—the more - so as the secret was a disgraceful one. When I remembered that you had - seen her at that window, and how she had fainted on seeing the coronet - again, my conjecture became a certainty. -

-

- “And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, for - who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must feel to - you? I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends - was a very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had - heard of him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It - must have been he who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. - Even though he knew that Arthur had discovered him, he might still - flatter himself that he was safe, for the lad could not say a word - without compromising his own family. -

-

- “Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next. I - went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George’s house, managed to pick - up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his - head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, - made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I - journeyed down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the - tracks.” -

-

- “I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening,” said - Mr. Holder. -

-

- “Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and - changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, - for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I - knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in - the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied - everything. But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he - tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew - my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could - strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we - would give him a price for the stones he held—£1000 apiece. That - brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. ‘Why, dash it - all!’ said he, ‘I’ve let them go at six hundred for the three!’ I soon - managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising - him that there would be no prosecution. Off I set to him, and after - much chaffering I got our stones at £1000 apiece. Then I looked in - upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got to my - bed about two o’clock, after what I may call a really hard day’s - work.” -

-

- “A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said the - banker, rising. “Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall - not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed - exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear - boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to - what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my very heart. Not even your - skill can inform me where she is now.” -

-

- “I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is - wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that - whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient - punishment.” -

-
-
-

- XII. The Adventure of the Copper - Beeches -

-

- “To the man who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock Holmes, - tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, - “it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations - that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to - observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these - little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw - up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given - prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and - sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those - incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have - given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis - which I have made my special province.” -

-

- “And yet,” said I, smiling, “I cannot quite hold myself absolved from - the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records.” -

-

- “You have erred, perhaps,” he observed, taking up a glowing cinder - with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which - was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than - a meditative mood—“you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour - and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to - the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to - effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing.” -

-

- “It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter,” I - remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I - had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend’s - singular character. -

-

- “No, it is not selfishness or conceit,” said he, answering, as was his - wont, my thoughts rather than my words. “If I claim full justice for - my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing—a thing beyond myself. - Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather - than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what - should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales.” -

-

- It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast - on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A - thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and - the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the - heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and - glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. - Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously - into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at - last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very - sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. -

-

- “At the same time,” he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat - puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, “you can - hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases - which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair - proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The - small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the - singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected - with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble - bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But - in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the - trivial.” -

-

- “The end may have been so,” I answered, “but the methods I hold to - have been novel and of interest.” -

-

- “Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant - public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by - his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! - But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of - the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all - enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to - be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and - giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I - have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning - marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter - across to me. -

-

- It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran - thus: -

-
-

- DEAR MR. HOLMES:—I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I - should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me - as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not - inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, -

-
-
“VIOLET HUNTER.”
-

- “Do you know the young lady?” I asked. -

-

- “Not I.” -

-

- “It is half-past ten now.” -

-

- “Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.” -

-

- “It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember - that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere - whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in - this case, also.” -

-

- “Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for - here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.” -

-

- As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was - plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a - plover’s egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own - way to make in the world. -

-

- “You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure,” said she, as my - companion rose to greet her, “but I have had a very strange - experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from - whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind - enough to tell me what I should do.” -

-

- “Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I - can to serve you.” -

-

- I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and - speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, - and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips - together, to listen to her story. -

-

- “I have been a governess for five years,” said she, “in the family of - Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an - appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to - America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I - advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At - last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was - at my wit’s end as to what I should do. -

-

- “There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called - Westaway’s, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see - whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the - name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss - Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are - seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by - one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything - which would suit them. -

-

- “Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as - usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously - stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled - down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of - glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. - As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to - Miss Stoper. -

-

- “ ‘That will do,’ said he; ‘I could not ask for anything better. - Capital! capital!’ He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands - together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking - man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him. -

-

- “ ‘You are looking for a situation, miss?’ he asked. -

-

- “ ‘Yes, sir.’ -

-

- “ ‘As governess?’ -

-

- “ ‘Yes, sir.’ -

-

- “ ‘And what salary do you ask?’ -

-

- “ ‘I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, tut, tut! sweating—rank sweating!’ he cried, throwing his fat - hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. ‘How - could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions - and accomplishments?’ -

-

- “ ‘My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ said I. ‘A - little French, a little German, music, and drawing—’ -

-

- “ ‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘This is all quite beside the question. The - point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a - lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted - for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part - in the history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could - any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three - figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at £100 a year.’ -

-

- “You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an - offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, - seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a - pocket-book and took out a note. -

-

- “ ‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant - fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the - white creases of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies half their - salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their - journey and their wardrobe.’ -

-

- “It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful - a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a - great convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the - whole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I - quite committed myself. -

-

- “ ‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I. -

-

- “ ‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on - the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear - young lady, and the dearest old country-house.’ -

-

- “ ‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.’ -

-

- “ ‘One child—one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you - could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! - Three gone before you could wink!’ He leaned back in his chair and - laughed his eyes into his head again. -

-

- “I was a little startled at the nature of the child’s amusement, but - the father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking. -

-

- “ ‘My sole duties, then,’ I asked, ‘are to take charge of a single - child?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,’ he cried. - ‘Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to - obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they - were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no - difficulty, heh?’ -

-

- “ ‘I should be happy to make myself useful.’ -

-

- “ ‘Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you - know—faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which - we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?’ -

-

- “ ‘No,’ said I, considerably astonished at his words. -

-

- “ ‘Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, no.’ -

-

- “ ‘Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?’ -

-

- “I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my - hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. - It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it - in this offhand fashion. -

-

- “ ‘I am afraid that that is quite impossible,’ said I. He had been - watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow - pass over his face as I spoke. -

-

- “ ‘I am afraid that it is quite essential,’ said he. ‘It is a little - fancy of my wife’s, and ladies’ fancies, you know, madam, ladies’ - fancies must be consulted. And so you won’t cut your hair?’ -

-

- “ ‘No, sir, I really could not,’ I answered firmly. -

-

- “ ‘Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, - because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In - that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young - ladies.’ -

-

- “The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a - word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance - upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a - handsome commission through my refusal. -

-

- “ ‘Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?’ she asked. -

-

- “ ‘If you please, Miss Stoper.’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most - excellent offers in this fashion,’ said she sharply. ‘You can hardly - expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. - Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong upon the table, and I - was shown out by the page. -

-

- “Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little - enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began - to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, - if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most - extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their - eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting £100 a year. - Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by - wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I - was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after - I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back - to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I - received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I - will read it to you: -

-
“ ‘The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
-
-

- ‘DEAR MISS HUNTER:—Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your - address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have - reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should - come, for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We - are willing to give £30 a quarter, or £120 a year, so as to - recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause - you. They are not very exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a - particular shade of electric blue and would like you to wear such a - dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go to the - expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear - daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, - fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing - yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause you no - inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, - especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short - interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, - and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the - loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. - Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at - Winchester. Let me know your train. Yours faithfully, -

-
-
“ ‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’
-

- “That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my - mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before - taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your - consideration.” -

-

- “Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the - question,” said Holmes, smiling. -

-

- “But you would not advise me to refuse?” -

-

- “I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a - sister of mine apply for.” -

-

- “What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?” -

-

- “Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed - some opinion?” -

-

- “Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. - Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not - possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the - matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he - humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?” -

-

- “That is a possible solution—in fact, as matters stand, it is the most - probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household - for a young lady.” -

-

- “But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!” -

-

- “Well, yes, of course the pay is good—too good. That is what makes me - uneasy. Why should they give you £120 a year, when they could have - their pick for £40? There must be some strong reason behind.” -

-

- “I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand - afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I - felt that you were at the back of me.” -

-

- “Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your - little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my - way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of - the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger—” -

-

- “Danger! What danger do you foresee?” -

-

- Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would cease to be a danger if we - could define it,” said he. “But at any time, day or night, a telegram - would bring me down to your help.” -

-

- “That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all - swept from her face. “I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my - mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor - hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow.” With a few - grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off - upon her way. -

-

- “At least,” said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the - stairs, “she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take - care of herself.” -

-

- “And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I am much mistaken - if we do not hear from her before many days are past.” -

-

- It was not very long before my friend’s prediction was fulfilled. A - fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning - in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human - experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the - curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something - abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a - philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to - determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an - hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept - the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. “Data! - data! data!” he cried impatiently. “I can’t make bricks without clay.” - And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his - should ever have accepted such a situation. -

-

- The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as - I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of - those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, - when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night - and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the - morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the - message, threw it across to me. -

-

- “Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” said he, and turned back to his - chemical studies. -

-

- The summons was a brief and urgent one. -

-
-

- Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday - to-morrow,” it said. “Do come! I am at my wit’s end. -

-
-
“HUNTER.”
-

- “Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up. -

-

- “I should wish to.” -

-

- “Just look it up, then.” -

-

- “There is a train at half-past nine,” said I, glancing over my - Bradshaw. “It is due at Winchester at 11:30.” -

-

- “That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my - analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the - morning.” -

-

- -

- By eleven o’clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old - English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the - way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them - down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a - light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting - across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet - there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man’s - energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around - Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped - out from amid the light green of the new foliage. -

-

- “Are they not fresh and beautiful?” I cried with all the enthusiasm of - a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. -

-

- But Holmes shook his head gravely. -

-

- “Do you know, Watson,” said he, “that it is one of the curses of a - mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with - reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered - houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the - only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of - the impunity with which crime may be committed there.” -

-

- “Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these dear - old homesteads?” -

-

- “They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, - founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in - London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the - smiling and beautiful countryside.” -

-

- “You horrify me!” -

-

- “But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do - in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile - that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, - does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then - the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of - complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime - and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, - filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of - the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness - which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the - wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in - Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five - miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she - is not personally threatened.” -

-

- “No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away.” -

-

- “Quite so. She has her freedom.” -

-

- “What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?” -

-

- “I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover - the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can - only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt - find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we - shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell.” -

-

- The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance - from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. - She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the - table. -

-

- “I am so delighted that you have come,” she said earnestly. “It is so - very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your - advice will be altogether invaluable to me.” -

-

- “Pray tell us what has happened to you.” -

-

- “I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle - to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this - morning, though he little knew for what purpose.” -

-

- “Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his long thin - legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. -

-

- “In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no - actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to - them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in - my mind about them.” -

-

- “What can you not understand?” -

-

- “Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it - occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in - his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully - situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square - block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp - and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and - on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, - which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This - ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part - of Lord Southerton’s preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately - in front of the hall door has given its name to the place. -

-

- “I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was - introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no - truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable - in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her - to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not - more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than - forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have - been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his - only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to - Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she - had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her - stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I - can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with - her father’s young wife. -

-

- “Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in - feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was - a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both - to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered - continually from one to the other, noting every little want and - forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, - boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. - And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be - lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than - once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it - was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I - have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little - creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite - disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an - alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of - sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be - his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in - planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would - rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has - little to do with my story.” -

-

- “I am glad of all details,” remarked my friend, “whether they seem to - you to be relevant or not.” -

-

- “I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant - thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and - conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. - Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled - hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have - been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to - take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a - sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are - a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in - the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one - corner of the building. -

-

- “For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very - quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and - whispered something to her husband. -

-

- “ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, turning to me, ‘we are very much obliged to you, - Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. - I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your - appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become - you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you - would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.’ -

-

- “The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of - blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore - unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been - a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle - expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated - in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which - is a very large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, - with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been - placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it. - In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down - on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the - funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how - comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, - however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as - smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look - upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked - that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might - change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery. -

-

- “Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly - similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the - window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of - which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told - inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my - chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the - page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, - beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle - of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress. -

-

- “You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what - the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They - were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the - window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was - going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I - soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy - thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my - handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put - my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management - to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was - disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first - impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was - a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey - suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an - important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, - however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and - was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at - Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching - gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that I - had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at - once. -

-

- “ ‘Jephro,’ said she, ‘there is an impertinent fellow upon the road - there who stares up at Miss Hunter.’ -

-

- “ ‘No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked. -

-

- “ ‘No, I know no one in these parts.’ -

-

- “ ‘Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him - to go away.’ -

-

- “ ‘Surely it would be better to take no notice.’ -

-

- “ ‘No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round - and wave him away like that.’ -

-

- “I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down - the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat - again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man - in the road.” -

-

- “Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be a most - interesting one.” -

-

- “You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to - be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. - On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle - took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we - approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as - of a large animal moving about. -

-

- “ ‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two - planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’ -

-

- “I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a - vague figure huddled up in the darkness. -

-

- “ ‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at the start which - I had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really - old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We - feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as - keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the - trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness’ sake don’t you - ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for - it’s as much as your life is worth.’ -

-

- “The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look - out of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. It was a - beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was - silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the - peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was - moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the - moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, - tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting - bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow - upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart - which I do not think that any burglar could have done. -

-

- “And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you - know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil - at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I - began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by - rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in - the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I - had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to - pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third - drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere - oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The - very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There - was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess - what it was. It was my coil of hair. -

-

- “I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and - the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded - itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With - trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew - from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I - assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle - as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned - the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to - the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening - a drawer which they had locked. -

-

- “I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I - soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was - one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door - which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened - into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I - ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, - his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very - different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. - His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the - veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and - hurried past me without a word or a look. -

-

- “This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the - grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I - could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of - them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was - shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and - down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, - looking as merry and jovial as ever. -

-

- “ ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘you must not think me rude if I passed you without a - word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.’ -

-

- “I assured him that I was not offended. ‘By the way,’ said I, ‘you - seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them - has the shutters up.’ -

-

- “He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my - remark. -

-

- “ ‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ said he. ‘I have made my dark - room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come - upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?’ He - spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he - looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest. -

-

- “Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was - something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all - on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my - share of that. It was more a feeling of duty—a feeling that some good - might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman’s - instinct; perhaps it was woman’s instinct which gave me that feeling. - At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any - chance to pass the forbidden door. -

-

- “It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, - besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in - these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen - bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and - yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there - was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it - there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was - with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key - gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through. -

-

- “There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, - which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner - were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. - They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two - windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the - evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was - closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the - broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, - and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked - as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded - clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the - glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently - there was a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the - passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might - veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a - shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light - which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up - in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me - suddenly, and I turned and ran—ran as though some dreadful hand were - behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the - passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, - who was waiting outside. -

-

- “ ‘So,’ said he, smiling, ‘it was you, then. I thought that it must be - when I saw the door open.’ -

-

- “ ‘Oh, I am so frightened!’ I panted. -

-

- “ ‘My dear young lady! my dear young lady!’—you cannot think how - caressing and soothing his manner was—‘and what has frightened you, my - dear young lady?’ -

-

- “But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was - keenly on my guard against him. -

-

- “ ‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. ‘But - it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and - ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!’ -

-

- “ ‘Only that?’ said he, looking at me keenly. -

-

- “ ‘Why, what did you think?’ I asked. -

-

- “ ‘Why do you think that I lock this door?’ -

-

- “ ‘I am sure that I do not know.’ -

-

- “ ‘It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?’ - He was still smiling in the most amiable manner. -

-

- “ ‘I am sure if I had known—’ -

-

- “ ‘Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that - threshold again’—here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of - rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon—‘I’ll throw - you to the mastiff.’ -

-

- “I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I - must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I - found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of - you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I - was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the - servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could - only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled - from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My - mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and - cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the - house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt - came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be - loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of - insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the - household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would - venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the - night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in - getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back - before three o’clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, - and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child. - Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be - very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what - I should do.” -

-

- Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My - friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his - pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face. -

-

- “Is Toller still drunk?” he asked. -

-

- “Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing - with him.” -

-

- “That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?” -

-

- “Yes.” -

-

- “Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?” -

-

- “Yes, the wine-cellar.” -

-

- “You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very - brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could - perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think - you a quite exceptional woman.” -

-

- “I will try. What is it?” -

-

- “We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend and I. - The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be - incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. - If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn - the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely.” -

-

- “I will do it.” -

-

- “Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course - there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to - personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. - That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it - is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was - said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as - resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers - had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has - passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a - curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was - undoubtedly some friend of hers—possibly her fiancé—and no - doubt, as you wore the girl’s dress and were so like her, he was - convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from - your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no - longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to - prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is - fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of - the child.” -

-

- “What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated. -

-

- “My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as - to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don’t you - see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my - first real insight into the character of parents by studying their - children. This child’s disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for - cruelty’s sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, - as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor - girl who is in their power.” -

-

- “I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A - thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have - hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor - creature.” -

-

- “We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. - We can do nothing until seven o’clock. At that hour we shall be with - you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery.” -

-

- We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the - Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The - group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in - the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even - had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step. -

-

- “Have you managed it?” asked Holmes. -

-

- A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is Mrs. - Toller in the cellar,” said she. “Her husband lies snoring on the - kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. - Rucastle’s.” -

-

- “You have done well indeed!” cried Holmes with enthusiasm. “Now lead - the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business.” -

-

- We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, - and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had - described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he - tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came - from within, and at the silence Holmes’ face clouded over. -

-

- “I trust that we are not too late,” said he. “I think, Miss Hunter, - that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder - to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in.” -

-

- It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united - strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no - furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of - linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone. -

-

- “There has been some villainy here,” said Holmes; “this beauty has - guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and has carried his victim off.” -

-

- “But how?” -

-

- “Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it.” He swung - himself up onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “here’s the end of a - long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it.” -

-

- “But it is impossible,” said Miss Hunter; “the ladder was not there - when the Rucastles went away.” -

-

- “He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and - dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he - whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would - be as well for you to have your pistol ready.” -

-

- The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the - door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his - hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of - him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him. -

-

- “You villain!” said he, “where’s your daughter?” -

-

- The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight. -

-

- “It is for me to ask you that,” he shrieked, “you thieves! Spies and - thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I’ll serve - you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go. -

-

- “He’s gone for the dog!” cried Miss Hunter. -

-

- “I have my revolver,” said I. -

-

- “Better close the front door,” cried Holmes, and we all rushed down - the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the - baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible - worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with - a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. -

-

- “My God!” he cried. “Someone has loosed the dog. It’s not been fed for - two days. Quick, quick, or it’ll be too late!” -

-

- Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller - hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black - muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and screamed upon - the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with - its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. - With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but - horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room - sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his - wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled - round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the - room. -

-

- “Mrs. Toller!” cried Miss Hunter. -

-

- “Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went - up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn’t let me know what you were - planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted.” -

-

- “Ha!” said Holmes, looking keenly at her. “It is clear that Mrs. - Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.” -

-

- “Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.” -

-

- “Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points - on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.” -

-

- “I will soon make it clear to you,” said she; “and I’d have done so - before now if I could ha’ got out from the cellar. If there’s - police-court business over this, you’ll remember that I was the one - that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice’s friend too. -

-

- “She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn’t, from the time that - her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in - anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met - Mr. Fowler at a friend’s house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice - had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she - was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything in - Mr. Rucastle’s hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there was - a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the - law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on - it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, - he could use her money. When she wouldn’t do it, he kept on worrying - her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death’s door. - Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her - beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t make no change in her young - man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.” -

-

- “Ah,” said Holmes, “I think that what you have been good enough to - tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that - remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of - imprisonment?” -

-

- “Yes, sir.” -

-

- “And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the - disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler.” -

-

- “That was it, sir.” -

-

- “But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, - blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain - arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your - interests were the same as his.” -

-

- “Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman,” said Mrs. - Toller serenely. -

-

- “And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of - drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your - master had gone out.” -

-

- “You have it, sir, just as it happened.” -

-

- “I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes, “for you - have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes - the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had - best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our - locus standi now is rather a questionable one.” -

-

- And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper - beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a - broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. - They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of - Rucastle’s past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. - Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in - Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a - government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet - Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no - further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of - one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at - Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success. -

-
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-

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

-
by
-
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
-
- -
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net - -Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez -
-
- - -
-
-

Adventure I A Scandal in Bohemia

-
-

I.

-

To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard -him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses -and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt -any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that -one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but -admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect -reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a -lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never -spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They -were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the -veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner -to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely -adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which -might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a -sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power -lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a -nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and -that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable -memory. -

-I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us -away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the -home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first -finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to -absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of -society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in -Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from -week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the -drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, -as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his -immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in -following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which -had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time -to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons -to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up -of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, -and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so -delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. -Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely -shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of -my former friend and companion. -

-One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was -returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to -civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I -passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated -in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the -Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes -again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. -His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw -his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against -the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head -sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who -knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their -own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his -drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new -problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which -had formerly been in part my own. -

-His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I -think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly -eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, -and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he -stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular -introspective fashion. -

-“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have -put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.” -

-“Seven!” I answered. -

-“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, -I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not -tell me that you intended to go into harness.” -

-“Then, how do you know?” -

-“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting -yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and -careless servant girl?” -

-“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly -have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true -that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful -mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you -deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has -given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it -out.” -

-He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands -together. -

-“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the -inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, -the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they -have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round -the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. -Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile -weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting -specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a -gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black -mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge -on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted -his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce -him to be an active member of the medical profession.” -

-I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his -process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I -remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously -simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each -successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you -explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good -as yours.” -

-“Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing -himself down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. -The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen -the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.” -

-“Frequently.” -

-“How often?” -

-“Well, some hundreds of times.” -

-“Then how many are there?” -

-“How many? I don’t know.” -

-“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is -just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, -because I have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are -interested in these little problems, and since you are good -enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you -may be interested in this.” He threw over a sheet of thick, -pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open upon the table. -“It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.” -

-The note was undated, and without either signature or address. -

-“There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight -o’clock,” it said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a -matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of -the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may -safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which -can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all -quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do -not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.” -

-“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that -it means?” -

-“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before -one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit -theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. -What do you deduce from it?” -

-I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was -written. -

-“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, -endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper -could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly -strong and stiff.” -

-“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an -English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.” -

-I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a -large “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. -

-“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes. -

-“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.” -

-“Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for -‘Gesellschaft,’ which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a -customary contraction like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for -‘Papier.’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let us glance at our Continental -Gazetteer.” He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. -“Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking -country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable as being -the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous -glass-factories and paper-mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do you -make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue -triumphant cloud from his cigarette. -

-“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said. -

-“Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you -note the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of -you we have from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian -could not have written that. It is the German who is so -uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover -what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and -prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if -I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts.” -

-As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and -grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the -bell. Holmes whistled. -

-“A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing -out of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of -beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in -this case, Watson, if there is nothing else.” -

-“I think that I had better go, Holmes.” -

-“Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my -Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity -to miss it.” -

-“But your client—” -

-“Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he -comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best -attention.” -

-A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and -in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there -was a loud and authoritative tap. -

-“Come in!” said Holmes. -

-A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six -inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His -dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked -upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed -across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while -the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined -with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch -which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended -halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with -rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence -which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a -broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper -part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black -vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, -for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower -part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, -with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive -of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. -

-“You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a -strongly marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He -looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to -address. -

-“Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and -colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me -in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?” -

-“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. -I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour -and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most -extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate -with you alone.” -

-I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me -back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say -before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.” -

-The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said -he, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at -the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At -present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it -may have an influence upon European history.” -

-“I promise,” said Holmes. -

-“And I.” -

-“You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The -august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to -you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have -just called myself is not exactly my own.” -

-“I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly. -

-“The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution -has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense -scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of -Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House -of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia.” -

-“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself -down in his armchair and closing his eyes. -

-Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, -lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him -as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. -Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his -gigantic client. -

-“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he -remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.” -

-The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in -uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he -tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You -are right,” he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to -conceal it?” -

-“Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken -before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich -Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and -hereditary King of Bohemia.” -

-“But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down -once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you -can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in -my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not -confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I -have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting -you.” -

-“Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. -

-“The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a -lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known -adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.” -

-“Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without -opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of -docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it -was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not -at once furnish information. In this case I found her biography -sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a -staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea -fishes. -

-“Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year -1858. Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera -of Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in -London—quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled -with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and -is now desirous of getting those letters back.” -

-“Precisely so. But how—” -

-“Was there a secret marriage?” -

-“None.” -

-“No legal papers or certificates?” -

-“None.” -

-“Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should -produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is -she to prove their authenticity?” -

-“There is the writing.” -

-“Pooh, pooh! Forgery.” -

-“My private note-paper.” -

-“Stolen.” -

-“My own seal.” -

-“Imitated.” -

-“My photograph.” -

-“Bought.” -

-“We were both in the photograph.” -

-“Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an -indiscretion.” -

-“I was mad—insane.” -

-“You have compromised yourself seriously.” -

-“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.” -

-“It must be recovered.” -

-“We have tried and failed.” -

-“Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.” -

-“She will not sell.” -

-“Stolen, then.” -

-“Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked -her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice -she has been waylaid. There has been no result.” -

-“No sign of it?” -

-“Absolutely none.” -

-Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he. -

-“But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully. -

-“Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the -photograph?” -

-“To ruin me.” -

-“But how?” -

-“I am about to be married.” -

-“So I have heard.” -

-“To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the -King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her -family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a -doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end.” -

-“And Irene Adler?” -

-“Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I -know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul -of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and -the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry -another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not -go—none.” -

-“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?” -

-“I am sure.” -

-“And why?” -

-“Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the -betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.” -

-“Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That -is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to -look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in -London for the present?” -

-“Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the -Count Von Kramm.” -

-“Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.” -

-“Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.” -

-“Then, as to money?” -

-“You have carte blanche.” -

-“Absolutely?” -

-“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom -to have that photograph.” -

-“And for present expenses?” -

-The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak -and laid it on the table. -

-“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in -notes,” he said. -

-Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and -handed it to him. -

-“And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked. -

-“Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.” -

-Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the -photograph a cabinet?” -

-“It was.” -

-“Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon -have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, -as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If -you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three -o’clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you.” -

-
-
-

II.

-

At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had -not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the -house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down -beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, -however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his -inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and -strange features which were associated with the two crimes which -I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the -exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. -Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my -friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of -a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a -pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the -quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most -inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable -success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to -enter into my head. -

-It was close upon four before the door opened, and a -drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an -inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. -Accustomed as I was to my friend’s amazing powers in the use of -disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it -was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he -emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. -Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in -front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. -

-“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again -until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the -chair. -

-“What is it?” -

-“It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I -employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.” -

-“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the -habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” -

-“Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, -however. I left the house a little after eight o’clock this -morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a -wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of -them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found -Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but -built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock -to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well -furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those -preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. -Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window -could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round -it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without -noting anything else of interest. -

-“I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that -there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the -garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, -and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two -fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire -about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in -the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but -whose biographies I was compelled to listen to.” -

-“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked. -

-“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is -the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the -Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, -drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for -dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. -Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, -handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and -often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See -the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him -home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. -When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up -and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan -of campaign. -

-“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the -matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the -relation between them, and what the object of his repeated -visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the -former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his -keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this -question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony -Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman’s chambers in the -Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my -inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to -let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the -situation.” -

-“I am following you closely,” I answered. -

-“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab -drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a -remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently -the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a -great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the -maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly -at home. -

-“He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch -glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and -down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see -nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than -before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from -his pocket and looked at it earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he -shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to -the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if -you do it in twenty minutes!’ -

-“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do -well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, -the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under -his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of -the buckles. It hadn’t pulled up before she shot out of the hall -door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, -but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. -

-“ ‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a -sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ -

-“This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing -whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her -landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked -twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could -object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign -if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to -twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. -

-“My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the -others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their -steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid -the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there -save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who -seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three -standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side -aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. -Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to -me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards -me. -

-“ ‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’ -

-“ ‘What then?’ I asked. -

-“ ‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’ -

-“I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was -I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, -and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally -assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to -Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and -there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady -on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was -the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my -life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just -now. It seems that there had been some informality about their -license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them -without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance -saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in -search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean -to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion.” -

-“This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what -then?” -

-“Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if -the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate -very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church -door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and -she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as -usual,’ she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove -away in different directions, and I went off to make my own -arrangements.” -

-“Which are?” -

-“Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the -bell. “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to -be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want -your co-operation.” -

-“I shall be delighted.” -

-“You don’t mind breaking the law?” -

-“Not in the least.” -

-“Nor running a chance of arrest?” -

-“Not in a good cause.” -

-“Oh, the cause is excellent!” -

-“Then I am your man.” -

-“I was sure that I might rely on you.” -

-“But what is it you wish?” -

-“When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to -you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that -our landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I -have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must -be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns -from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” -

-“And what then?” -

-“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to -occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must -not interfere, come what may. You understand?” -

-“I am to be neutral?” -

-“To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small -unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being -conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the -sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close -to that open window.” -

-“Yes.” -

-“You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.” -

-“Yes.” -

-“And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what -I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of -fire. You quite follow me?” -

-“Entirely.” -

-“It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped -roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, -fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. -Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, -it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then -walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten -minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?” -

-“I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, -and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry -of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.” -

-“Precisely.” -

-“Then you may entirely rely on me.” -

-“That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I -prepare for the new role I have to play.” -

-He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in -the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist -clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white -tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and -benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have -equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His -expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every -fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as -science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in -crime. -

-It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still -wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in -Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just -being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, -waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such -as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, -but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On -the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was -remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men -smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his -wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and -several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with -cigars in their mouths. -

-“You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of -the house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The -photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are -that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey -Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his -princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the -photograph?” -

-“Where, indeed?” -

-“It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is -cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s -dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid -and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We -may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her.” -

-“Where, then?” -

-“Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But -I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, -and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it -over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but -she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be -brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she -had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she -can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house.” -

-“But it has twice been burgled.” -

-“Pshaw! They did not know how to look.” -

-“But how will you look?” -

-“I will not look.” -

-“What then?” -

-“I will get her to show me.” -

-“But she will refuse.” -

-“She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is -her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” -

-As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round -the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which -rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of -the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in -the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another -loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce -quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who -took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, -who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and -in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was -the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who -struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes -dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached -her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood -running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to -their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while -a number of better dressed people, who had watched the scuffle -without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to -attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, -had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her -superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking -back into the street. -

-“Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked. -

-“He is dead,” cried several voices. -

-“No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be -gone before you can get him to hospital.” -

-“He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the -lady’s purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a -gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.” -

-“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?” -

-“Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable -sofa. This way, please!” -

-Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out -in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings -from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the -blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay -upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with -compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I -know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life -than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was -conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited -upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery -to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted -to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under -my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are -but preventing her from injuring another. -

-Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man -who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the -window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the -signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The -word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of -spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and -servant maids—joined in a general shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds -of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I -caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice -of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. -Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner -of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my -friend’s arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. -He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we -had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the -Edgeware Road. -

-“You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could -have been better. It is all right.” -

-“You have the photograph?” -

-“I know where it is.” -

-“And how did you find out?” -

-“She showed me, as I told you she would.” -

-“I am still in the dark.” -

-“I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter -was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the -street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” -

-“I guessed as much.” -

-“Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in -the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand -to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” -

-“That also I could fathom.” -

-“Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else -could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room -which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was -determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for -air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your -chance.” -

-“How did that help you?” -

-“It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on -fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she -values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have -more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the -Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in -the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; -an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to -me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious -to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. -The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were -enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The -photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the -right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a -glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried out that it -was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed -from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making -my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to -attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had -come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to -wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” -

-“And now?” I asked. -

-“Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King -to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be -shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is -probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the -photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain -it with his own hands.” -

-“And when will you call?” -

-“At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall -have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage -may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to -the King without delay.” -

-We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was -searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: -

-“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” -

-There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the -greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had -hurried by. -

-“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the -dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have -been.” - -

-
-
-

III.

-

I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our -toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed -into the room. -

-“You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by -either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. -

-“Not yet.” -

-“But you have hopes?” -

-“I have hopes.” -

-“Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.” -

-“We must have a cab.” -

-“No, my brougham is waiting.” -

-“Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off -once more for Briony Lodge. -

-“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes. -

-“Married! When?” -

-“Yesterday.” -

-“But to whom?” -

-“To an English lawyer named Norton.” -

-“But she could not love him.” -

-“I am in hopes that she does.” -

-“And why in hopes?” -

-“Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future -annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your -Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason -why she should interfere with your Majesty’s plan.” -

-“It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own -station! What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a -moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in -Serpentine Avenue. -

-The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood -upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped -from the brougham. -

-“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she. -

-“I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a -questioning and rather startled gaze. -

-“Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She -left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing -Cross for the Continent.” -

-“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and -surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?” -

-“Never to return.” -

-“And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.” -

-“We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the -drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was -scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and -open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before -her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small -sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a -photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler -herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to -“Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My friend -tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at -midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: -

-

-MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You -took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a -suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I -began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had -been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly -be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, -you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became -suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind -old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress -myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage -of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to -watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call -them, and came down just as you departed. -

-Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was -really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock -Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and -started for the Temple to see my husband.

-

We both thought the -best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an -antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call -to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I -love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what -he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I -keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which -will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the -future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and -I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, -

-
“Very truly yours, -“IRENE NORTON, née ADLER.” -

-“What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when -we had all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick -and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? -Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?” -

-“From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a -very different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am -sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business -to a more successful conclusion.” -

-“On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be -more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The -photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire.” -

-“I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.” -

-“I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can -reward you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from -his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. -

-“Your Majesty has something which I should value even more -highly,” said Holmes. -

-“You have but to name it.” -

-“This photograph!” -

-The King stared at him in amazement. -

-“Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.” -

-“I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the -matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He -bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the -King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his -chambers. -

-And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom -of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were -beaten by a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the -cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And -when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her -photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman. - - -

-
-
-
-

Adventure II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

-

I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the -autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a -very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. -With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when -Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door -behind me. -

-“You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear -Watson,” he said cordially. -

-“I was afraid that you were engaged.” -

-“So I am. Very much so.” -

-“Then I can wait in the next room.” -

-“Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and -helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no -doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also.” -

-The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of -greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small -fat-encircled eyes. -

-“Try the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and -putting his fingertips together, as was his custom when in -judicial moods. “I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love -of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum -routine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it by -the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you -will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own -little adventures.” -

-“Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me,” I -observed. -

-“You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we -went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary -Sutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinary -combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more -daring than any effort of the imagination.” -

-“A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting.” -

-“You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my -view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you -until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to -be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call -upon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to -be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some -time. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique -things are very often connected not with the larger but with the -smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for -doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as I -have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the present -case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is -certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. -Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to -recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend -Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the -peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every -possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some -slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide -myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my -memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the -facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.” -

-The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some -little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the -inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the -advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper -flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and -endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the -indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance. -

-I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor -bore every mark of being an average commonplace British -tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey -shepherd’s check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, -unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy -Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as -an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a -wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, -look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save -his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and -discontent upon his features. -

-Sherlock Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook -his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. -“Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual -labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has -been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of -writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.” -

-Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger -upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion. -

-“How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. -Holmes?” he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did -manual labour. It’s as true as gospel, for I began as a ship’s -carpenter.” -

-“Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger -than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more -developed.” -

-“Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?” -

-“I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, -especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you -use an arc-and-compass breastpin.” -

-“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?” -

-“What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for -five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the -elbow where you rest it upon the desk?” -

-“Well, but China?” -

-“The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right -wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small -study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature -of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes’ scales of a -delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I -see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter -becomes even more simple.” -

-Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I -thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see -that there was nothing in it after all.” -

-“I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake -in explaining. ‘Omne ignotum pro magnifico,’ you know, and my -poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I -am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?” -

-“Yes, I have got it now,” he answered with his thick red finger -planted halfway down the column. “Here it is. This is what began -it all. You just read it for yourself, sir.” -

-I took the paper from him and read as follows: -

-“TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late -Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now -another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a -salary of £4 a week for purely nominal services. All -red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age -of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at -eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 -Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.” -

-“What on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated after I had twice -read over the extraordinary announcement. -

-Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when -in high spirits. “It is a little off the beaten track, isn’t it?” -said he. “And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us -all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this -advertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, -Doctor, of the paper and the date.” -

-“It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months -ago.” -

-“Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?” -

-“Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock -Holmes,” said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; “I have a small -pawnbroker’s business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not a -very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than -just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, -but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him but -that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the -business.” -

-“What is the name of this obliging youth?” asked Sherlock Holmes. -

-“His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he’s not such a youth, -either. It’s hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter -assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better -himself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after -all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?” -

-“Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who -comes under the full market price. It is not a common experience -among employers in this age. I don’t know that your assistant is -not as remarkable as your advertisement.” -

-“Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never was such a -fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought -to be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar -like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his -main fault, but on the whole he’s a good worker. There’s no vice -in him.” -

-“He is still with you, I presume?” -

-“Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple -cooking and keeps the place clean—that’s all I have in the -house, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live very -quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads -and pay our debts, if we do nothing more. -

-“The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. -Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight -weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: -

-“ ‘I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.’ -

-“ ‘Why that?’ I asks. -

-“ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘here’s another vacancy on the League of the -Red-headed Men. It’s worth quite a little fortune to any man who -gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than -there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits’ end what -to do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here’s -a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.’ -

-“ ‘Why, what is it, then?’ I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a -very stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of -my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting -my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn’t know much of what -was going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news. -

-“ ‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?’ he -asked with his eyes open. -

-“ ‘Never.’ -

-“ ‘Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one -of the vacancies.’ -

-“ ‘And what are they worth?’ I asked. -

-“ ‘Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, -and it need not interfere very much with one’s other -occupations.’ -

-“Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, -for the business has not been over good for some years, and an -extra couple of hundred would have been very handy. -

-“ ‘Tell me all about it,’ said I. -

-“ ‘Well,’ said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you can see for -yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address -where you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, -the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah -Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himself -red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; -so, when he died, it was found that he had left his enormous -fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the -interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of -that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to -do.’ -

-“ ‘But,’ said I, ‘there would be millions of red-headed men who -would apply.’ -

-“ ‘Not so many as you might think,’ he answered. ‘You see it is -really confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had -started from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the -old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your -applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but -real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. -Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly be -worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a -few hundred pounds.’ -

-“Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, -that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed -to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I -stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. Vincent -Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might -prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for -the day and to come right away with me. He was very willing to -have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for -the address that was given us in the advertisement. -

-“I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From -north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in -his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. -Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope’s Court -looked like a coster’s orange barrow. I should not have thought -there were so many in the whole country as were brought together -by that single advertisement. Every shade of colour they -were—straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; -but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real -vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I -would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear -of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and -pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up -to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream -upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back -dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found -ourselves in the office.” -

-“Your experience has been a most entertaining one,” remarked -Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge -pinch of snuff. “Pray continue your very interesting statement.” -

-“There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs -and a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that -was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate -as he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault in -them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem -to be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turn -came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of -the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he -might have a private word with us. -

-“ ‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, ‘and he is -willing to fill a vacancy in the League.’ -

-“ ‘And he is admirably suited for it,’ the other answered. ‘He has -every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so -fine.’ He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and -gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he -plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my -success. -

-“ ‘It would be injustice to hesitate,’ said he. ‘You will, -however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.’ -With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I -yelled with the pain. ‘There is water in your eyes,’ said he as -he released me. ‘I perceive that all is as it should be. But we -have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and -once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler’s wax which -would disgust you with human nature.’ He stepped over to the -window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the -vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, -and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there -was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the -manager. -

-“ ‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of -the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are -you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?’ -

-“I answered that I had not. -

-“His face fell immediately. -

-“ ‘Dear me!’ he said gravely, ‘that is very serious indeed! I am -sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the -propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their -maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a -bachelor.’ -

-“My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was -not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for -a few minutes he said that it would be all right. -

-“ ‘In the case of another,’ said he, ‘the objection might be -fatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a -head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your -new duties?’ -

-“ ‘Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,’ -said I. -

-“ ‘Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!’ said Vincent Spaulding. -‘I should be able to look after that for you.’ -

-“ ‘What would be the hours?’ I asked. -

-“ ‘Ten to two.’ -

-“Now a pawnbroker’s business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. -Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just -before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in -the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, -and that he would see to anything that turned up. -

-“ ‘That would suit me very well,’ said I. ‘And the pay?’ -

-“ ‘Is £4 a week.’ -

-“ ‘And the work?’ -

-“ ‘Is purely nominal.’ -

-“ ‘What do you call purely nominal?’ -

-“ ‘Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the -building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole -position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You -don’t comply with the conditions if you budge from the office -during that time.’ -

-“ ‘It’s only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,’ -said I. -

-“ ‘No excuse will avail,’ said Mr. Duncan Ross; ‘neither sickness -nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose -your billet.’ -

-“ ‘And the work?’ -

-“ ‘Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the first -volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and -blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be -ready to-morrow?’ -

-“ ‘Certainly,’ I answered. -

-“ ‘Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you -once more on the important position which you have been fortunate -enough to gain.’ He bowed me out of the room and I went home with -my assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased -at my own good fortune. -

-“Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in -low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the -whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its -object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past -belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay -such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the -Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did what he could to -cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the -whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look -at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a -quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for -Pope’s Court. -

-“Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as -possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross -was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off -upon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from -time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o’clock he -bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had -written, and locked the door of the office after me. -

-“This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the -manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my -week’s work. It was the same next week, and the same the week -after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I -left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only -once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at -all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an -instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet -was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk -the loss of it. -

-“Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about -Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and -hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B’s before very -long. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly -filled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the whole -business came to an end.” -

-“To an end?” -

-“Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as -usual at ten o’clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a -little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the -panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself.” -

-He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet -of note-paper. It read in this fashion: -

-
THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE -IS -DISSOLVED. -October 9, 1890.
-

-Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the -rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so -completely overtopped every other consideration that we both -burst out into a roar of laughter. -

-“I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our -client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. “If you can -do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.” -

-“No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from -which he had half risen. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for -the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you -will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. -Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the -door?” -

-“I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called -at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything -about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant -living on the ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me -what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had -never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan -Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him. -

-“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘the gentleman at No. 4.’ -

-“ ‘What, the red-headed man?’ -

-“ ‘Yes.’ -

-“ ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor -and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new -premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.’ -

-“ ‘Where could I find him?’ -

-“ ‘Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 -King Edward Street, near St. Paul’s.’ -

-“I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was -a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever -heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.” -

-“And what did you do then?” asked Holmes. -

-“I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my -assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say -that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite -good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place -without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough -to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came right -away to you.” -

-“And you did very wisely,” said Holmes. “Your case is an -exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. -From what you have told me I think that it is possible that -graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear.” -

-“Grave enough!” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “Why, I have lost four -pound a week.” -

-“As far as you are personally concerned,” remarked Holmes, “I do -not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary -league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some -£30, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have -gained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have -lost nothing by them.” -

-“No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, -and what their object was in playing this prank—if it was a -prank—upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it -cost them two and thirty pounds.” -

-“We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, -one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who -first called your attention to the advertisement—how long had he -been with you?” -

-“About a month then.” -

-“How did he come?” -

-“In answer to an advertisement.” -

-“Was he the only applicant?” -

-“No, I had a dozen.” -

-“Why did you pick him?” -

-“Because he was handy and would come cheap.” -

-“At half wages, in fact.” -

-“Yes.” -

-“What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?” -

-“Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, -though he’s not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon -his forehead.” -

-Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. “I thought -as much,” said he. “Have you ever observed that his ears are -pierced for earrings?” -

-“Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he -was a lad.” -

-“Hum!” said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. “He is still -with you?” -

-“Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.” -

-“And has your business been attended to in your absence?” -

-“Nothing to complain of, sir. There’s never very much to do of a -morning.” -

-“That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an -opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is -Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.” -

-“Well, Watson,” said Holmes when our visitor had left us, “what -do you make of it all?” -

-“I make nothing of it,” I answered frankly. “It is a most -mysterious business.” -

-“As a rule,” said Holmes, “the more bizarre a thing is the less -mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless -crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is -the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this -matter.” -

-“What are you going to do, then?” I asked. -

-“To smoke,” he answered. “It is quite a three pipe problem, and I -beg that you won’t speak to me for fifty minutes.” He curled -himself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his -hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and his -black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. -I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and -indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his -chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put -his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. -

-“Sarasate plays at the St. James’s Hall this afternoon,” he -remarked. “What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare -you for a few hours?” -

-“I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very -absorbing.” -

-“Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City -first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that -there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is -rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is -introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!” -

-We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short -walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular -story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, -little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy -two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in -enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded -laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and -uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with -“JABEZ WILSON” in white letters, upon a corner house, announced -the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. -Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side -and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between -puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down -again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally -he returned to the pawnbroker’s, and, having thumped vigorously -upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up -to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a -bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step -in. -

-“Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you how you would -go from here to the Strand.” -

-“Third right, fourth left,” answered the assistant promptly, -closing the door. -

-“Smart fellow, that,” observed Holmes as we walked away. “He is, -in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring -I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known -something of him before.” -

-“Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson’s assistant counts for a good -deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you -inquired your way merely in order that you might see him.” -

-“Not him.” -

-“What then?” -

-“The knees of his trousers.” -

-“And what did you see?” -

-“What I expected to see.” -

-“Why did you beat the pavement?” -

-“My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We -are spies in an enemy’s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg -Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it.” -

-The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the -corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a -contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was -one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City -to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense -stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, -while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of -pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line -of fine shops and stately business premises that they really -abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square -which we had just quitted. -

-“Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing -along the line, “I should like just to remember the order of the -houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of -London. There is Mortimer’s, the tobacconist, the little -newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, -the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane’s carriage-building -depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, -Doctor, we’ve done our work, so it’s time we had some play. A -sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where -all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no -red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums.” -

-My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a -very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All -the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect -happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the -music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes -were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the -relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was -possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature -alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and -astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction -against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally -predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from -extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was -never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been -lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his -black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase -would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning -power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were -unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a -man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him -that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James’s Hall I -felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set -himself to hunt down. -

-“You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor,” he remarked as we -emerged. -

-“Yes, it would be as well.” -

-“And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This -business at Coburg Square is serious.” -

-“Why serious?” -

-“A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to -believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being -Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your help -to-night.” -

-“At what time?” -

-“Ten will be early enough.” -

-“I shall be at Baker Street at ten.” -

-“Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, -so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket.” He waved his -hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the -crowd. -

-I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was -always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings -with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had -seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that -he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to -happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and -grotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought -over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed -copier of the Encyclopaedia down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg -Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. -What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? -Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from -Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker’s assistant was a -formidable man—a man who might play a deep game. I tried to -puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside -until night should bring an explanation. -

-It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my -way across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker -Street. Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered -the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering -his room, I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, -one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police -agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a -very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat. -

-“Ha! Our party is complete,” said Holmes, buttoning up his -pea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. -“Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me -introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in -to-night’s adventure.” -

-“We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,” said Jones in -his consequential way. “Our friend here is a wonderful man for -starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do -the running down.” -

-“I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,” -observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily. -

-“You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said -the police agent loftily. “He has his own little methods, which -are, if he won’t mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical -and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It -is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of -the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly -correct than the official force.” -

-“Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the -stranger with deference. “Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. -It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I -have not had my rubber.” -

-“I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that you will -play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and -that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, -the stake will be some £30,000; and for you, Jones, it will -be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands.” -

-“John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He’s a -young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his -profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on -any criminal in London. He’s a remarkable man, is young John -Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been -to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and -though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to -find the man himself. He’ll crack a crib in Scotland one week, -and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. -I’ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him -yet.” -

-“I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. -I’ve had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I -agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is -past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two -will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the -second.” -

-Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive -and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in -the afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit -streets until we emerged into Farrington Street. -

-“We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow -Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the -matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is -not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. -He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as -tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we -are, and they are waiting for us.” -

-We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had -found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, -following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a -narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us. -Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive -iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding -stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr. -Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us -down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a -third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all -round with crates and massive boxes. -

-“You are not very vulnerable from above,” Holmes remarked as he -held up the lantern and gazed about him. -

-“Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon -the flags which lined the floor. “Why, dear me, it sounds quite -hollow!” he remarked, looking up in surprise. -

-“I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!” said Holmes -severely. “You have already imperilled the whole success of our -expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit -down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?” -

-The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a -very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his -knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, -began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few -seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again -and put his glass in his pocket. -

-“We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked, “for they can -hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. -Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their -work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at -present, Doctor—as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of -the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. -Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to -you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of -London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at -present.” -

-“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had -several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.” -

-“Your French gold?” -

-“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources -and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of -France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to -unpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The -crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between -layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at -present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the -directors have had misgivings upon the subject.” -

-“Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now it is -time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an -hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. -Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern.” -

-“And sit in the dark?” -

-“I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and -I thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your -rubber after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have -gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, -first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men, -and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us -some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate, -and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a -light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no -compunction about shooting them down.” -

-I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case -behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front -of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolute -darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot -metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready -to flash out at a moment’s notice. To me, with my nerves worked -up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and -subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the -vault. -

-“They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes. “That is back -through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have -done what I asked you, Jones?” -

-“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.” -

-“Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent -and wait.” -

-What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but -an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must -have almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs -were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my -nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my -hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle -breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, -heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note -of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case -in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint -of a light. -

-At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then -it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, -without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand -appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the -centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the -hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then -it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark -again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between -the stones. -

-Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, -tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon -its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed -the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, -boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand -on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and -waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another -instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after -him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face -and a shock of very red hair. -

-“It’s all clear,” he whispered. “Have you the chisel and the -bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I’ll swing for it!” -

-Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the -collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of -rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed -upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes’ hunting crop came -down on the man’s wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone -floor. -

-“It’s no use, John Clay,” said Holmes blandly. “You have no -chance at all.” -

-“So I see,” the other answered with the utmost coolness. “I fancy -that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his -coat-tails.” -

-“There are three men waiting for him at the door,” said Holmes. -

-“Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I -must compliment you.” -

-“And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed idea was very new -and effective.” -

-“You’ll see your pal again presently,” said Jones. “He’s quicker -at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the -derbies.” -

-“I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,” -remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. -“You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have -the goodness, also, when you address me always to say ‘sir’ and -‘please.’ ” -

-“All right,” said Jones with a stare and a snigger. “Well, would -you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry -your Highness to the police-station?” -

-“That is better,” said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow -to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the -detective. -

-“Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them -from the cellar, “I do not know how the bank can thank you or -repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated -in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts -at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience.” -

-“I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. -John Clay,” said Holmes. “I have been at some small expense over -this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond -that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in -many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of -the Red-headed League.” -

-

-“You see, Watson,” he explained in the early hours of the morning -as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, “it -was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible -object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of -the League, and the copying of the Encyclopaedia, must be to get -this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of -hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, -really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was -no doubt suggested to Clay’s ingenious mind by the colour of his -accomplice’s hair. The £4 a week was a lure which must draw -him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? -They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary -office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and -together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the -week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for -half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive -for securing the situation.” -

-“But how could you guess what the motive was?” -

-“Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a -mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The -man’s business was a small one, and there was nothing in his -house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and -such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something -out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant’s -fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the -cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then -I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I -had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in -London. He was doing something in the cellar—something which -took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once -more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel -to some other building. -

-“So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I -surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was -ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. -It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the -assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had -never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his -face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have -remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of -those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they -were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and -Suburban Bank abutted on our friend’s premises, and felt that I -had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I -called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank -directors, with the result that you have seen.” -

-“And how could you tell that they would make their attempt -to-night?” I asked. -

-“Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that -they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson’s presence—in other -words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential -that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the -bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than -any other day, as it would give them two days for their escape. -For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night.” -

-“You reasoned it out beautifully,” I exclaimed in unfeigned -admiration. “It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings -true.” -

-“It saved me from ennui,” he answered, yawning. “Alas! I already -feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort -to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little -problems help me to do so.” -

-“And you are a benefactor of the race,” said I. -

-He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, perhaps, after all, it is of -some little use,” he remarked. “ ‘L’homme c’est rien—l’oeuvre -c’est tout,’ as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand.” - - -

-
-
-

Adventure III. A Case of Identity

-

“My dear fellow,” said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side -of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, “life is infinitely -stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We -would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere -commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window -hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the -roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the -strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the -wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and -leading to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with -its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and -unprofitable.” -

-“And yet I am not convinced of it,” I answered. “The cases which -come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and -vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to -its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, -neither fascinating nor artistic.” -

-“A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a -realistic effect,” remarked Holmes. “This is wanting in the -police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the -platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an -observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend -upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace.” -

-I smiled and shook my head. “I can quite understand your thinking -so,” I said. “Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser -and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout -three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is -strange and bizarre. But here”—I picked up the morning paper -from the ground—“let us put it to a practical test. Here is the -first heading upon which I come. ‘A husband’s cruelty to his -wife.’ There is half a column of print, but I know without -reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of -course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the -bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of -writers could invent nothing more crude.” -

-“Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,” -said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. “This -is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged -in clearing up some small points in connection with it. The -husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the -conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of -winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling -them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely -to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a -pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over -you in your example.” -

-He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in -the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his -homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon -it. -

-“Ah,” said he, “I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. -It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my -assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers.” -

-“And the ring?” I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which -sparkled upon his finger. -

-“It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in -which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it -even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of -my little problems.” -

-“And have you any on hand just now?” I asked with interest. -

-“Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of -interest. They are important, you understand, without being -interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in -unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, -and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the -charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the -simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is -the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter -which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing -which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, -that I may have something better before very many minutes are -over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken.” -

-He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted -blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. -Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite -there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, -and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was -tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her -ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, -hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated -backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove -buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves -the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp -clang of the bell. -

-“I have seen those symptoms before,” said Holmes, throwing his -cigarette into the fire. “Oscillation upon the pavement always -means an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure -that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet -even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously -wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom -is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love -matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or -grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts.” -

-As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons -entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself -loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed -merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed -her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, -having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he looked -her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was -peculiar to him. -

-“Do you not find,” he said, “that with your short sight it is a -little trying to do so much typewriting?” -

-“I did at first,” she answered, “but now I know where the letters -are without looking.” Then, suddenly realising the full purport -of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear -and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. “You’ve -heard about me, Mr. Holmes,” she cried, “else how could you know -all that?” -

-“Never mind,” said Holmes, laughing; “it is my business to know -things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others -overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?” -

-“I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, -whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had -given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as -much for me. I’m not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in -my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and -I would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-“Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?” asked -Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to -the ceiling. -

-Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss -Mary Sutherland. “Yes, I did bang out of the house,” she said, -“for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. -Windibank—that is, my father—took it all. He would not go to -the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he -would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, -it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away -to you.” -

-“Your father,” said Holmes, “your stepfather, surely, since the -name is different.” -

-“Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, -too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself.” -

-“And your mother is alive?” -

-“Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn’t best pleased, Mr. -Holmes, when she married again so soon after father’s death, and -a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father -was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy -business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the -foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the -business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. -They got £4700 for the goodwill and interest, which wasn’t -near as much as father could have got if he had been alive.” -

-I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this -rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he -had listened with the greatest concentration of attention. -

-“Your own little income,” he asked, “does it come out of the -business?” -

-“Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle -Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4½ per -cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can -only touch the interest.” -

-“You interest me extremely,” said Holmes. “And since you draw so -large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the -bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in -every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely -upon an income of about £60.” -

-“I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you -understand that as long as I live at home I don’t wish to be a -burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while -I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the -time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it -over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I -earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can -often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day.” -

-“You have made your position very clear to me,” said Holmes. -“This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as -freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your -connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-A flush stole over Miss Sutherland’s face, and she picked -nervously at the fringe of her jacket. “I met him first at the -gasfitters’ ball,” she said. “They used to send father tickets -when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and -sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He -never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I -wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I -was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to -prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all -father’s friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing -fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much -as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, -he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, -mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it -was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-“I suppose,” said Holmes, “that when Mr. Windibank came back from -France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball.” -

-“Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and -shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying -anything to a woman, for she would have her way.” -

-“I see. Then at the gasfitters’ ball you met, as I understand, a -gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-“Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if -we had got home all safe, and after that we met him—that is to -say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father -came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house -any more.” -

-“No?” -

-“Well, you know father didn’t like anything of the sort. He -wouldn’t have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to -say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But -then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to -begin with, and I had not got mine yet.” -

-“But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see -you?” -

-“Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer -wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each -other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he -used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so -there was no need for father to know.” -

-“Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?” -

-“Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that -we took. Hosmer—Mr. Angel—was a cashier in an office in -Leadenhall Street—and—” -

-“What office?” -

-“That’s the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don’t know.” -

-“Where did he live, then?” -

-“He slept on the premises.” -

-“And you don’t know his address?” -

-“No—except that it was Leadenhall Street.” -

-“Where did you address your letters, then?” -

-“To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called -for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be -chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, -so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn’t -have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come -from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the -machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond he -was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think -of.” -

-“It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “It has long been an axiom -of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. -Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?” -

-“He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me -in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to -be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his -voice was gentle. He’d had the quinsy and swollen glands when he -was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, -and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always -well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just -as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare.” -

-“Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, -returned to France?” -

-“Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we -should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest -and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever -happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite -right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. -Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder -of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the -week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to -mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother -said she would make it all right with him. I didn’t quite like -that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as -he was only a few years older than me; but I didn’t want to do -anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the -company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on -the very morning of the wedding.” -

-“It missed him, then?” -

-“Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.” -

-“Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for -the Friday. Was it to be in church?” -

-“Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour’s, near -King’s Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. -Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were -two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a -four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the -street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler -drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and -when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one -there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become -of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was -last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything -since then to throw any light upon what became of him.” -

-“It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,” said -Holmes. -

-“Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all -the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to -be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to -separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, -and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed -strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since -gives a meaning to it.” -

-“Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some -unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?” -

-“Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he -would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw -happened.” -

-“But you have no notion as to what it could have been?” -

-“None.” -

-“One more question. How did your mother take the matter?” -

-“She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter -again.” -

-“And your father? Did you tell him?” -

-“Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had -happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, -what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of -the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my -money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, -there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about -money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what -could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me -half-mad to think of it, and I can’t sleep a wink at night.” She -pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob -heavily into it. -

-“I shall glance into the case for you,” said Holmes, rising, “and -I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the -weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind -dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel -vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life.” -

-“Then you don’t think I’ll see him again?” -

-“I fear not.” -

-“Then what has happened to him?” -

-“You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an -accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can -spare.” -

-“I advertised for him in last Saturday’s Chronicle,” said she. -“Here is the slip and here are four letters from him.” -

-“Thank you. And your address?” -

-“No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.” -

-“Mr. Angel’s address you never had, I understand. Where is your -father’s place of business?” -

-“He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers -of Fenchurch Street.” -

-“Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will -leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given -you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it -to affect your life.” -

-“You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be -true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back.” -

-For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was -something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which -compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon -the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever -she might be summoned. -

-Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips -still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, -and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down -from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a -counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with -the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of -infinite languor in his face. -

-“Quite an interesting study, that maiden,” he observed. “I found -her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, -is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you -consult my index, in Andover in ’77, and there was something of -the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, -there were one or two details which were new to me. But the -maiden herself was most instructive.” -

-“You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite -invisible to me,” I remarked. -

-“Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to -look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring -you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of -thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. -Now, what did you gather from that woman’s appearance? Describe -it.” -

-“Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a -feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads -sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her -dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little -purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and -were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn’t -observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a -general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, -easy-going way.” -

-Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. -

-“ ’Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have -really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed -everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and -you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general -impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My -first glance is always at a woman’s sleeve. In a man it is -perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you -observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most -useful material for showing traces. The double line a little -above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, -was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, -leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side -of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the -broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, -observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I -ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed -to surprise her.” -

-“It surprised me.” -

-“But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and -interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots -which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were -really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and -the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower -buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and -fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly -dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, -it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry.” -

-“And what else?” I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by -my friend’s incisive reasoning. -

-“I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving -home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right -glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see -that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had -written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been -this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. -All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back -to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised -description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?” -

-I held the little printed slip to the light. -

-“Missing,” it said, “on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman -named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; -strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in -the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted -glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, -in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert -chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over -elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in -Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing—” -

-“That will do,” said Holmes. “As to the letters,” he continued, -glancing over them, “they are very commonplace. Absolutely no -clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There -is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike -you.” -

-“They are typewritten,” I remarked. -

-“Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the -neat little ‘Hosmer Angel’ at the bottom. There is a date, you -see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is -rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive—in -fact, we may call it conclusive.” -

-“Of what?” -

-“My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it -bears upon the case?” -

-“I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able -to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were -instituted.” -

-“No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, -which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the -other is to the young lady’s stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking -him whether he could meet us here at six o’clock to-morrow -evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the -male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the -answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem -upon the shelf for the interim.” -

-I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend’s subtle powers -of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that -he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy -demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had -been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in -the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler -photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the -Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with -the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle -indeed which he could not unravel. -

-I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the -conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would -find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up -to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary -Sutherland. -

-A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own -attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at -the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six -o’clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a -hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too -late to assist at the dénouement of the little mystery. I found -Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin -form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable -array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell -of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the -chemical work which was so dear to him. -

-“Well, have you solved it?” I asked as I entered. -

-“Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta.” -

-“No, no, the mystery!” I cried. -

-“Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. -There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said -yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback -is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel.” -

-“Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss -Sutherland?” -

-The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet -opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the -passage and a tap at the door. -

-“This is the girl’s stepfather, Mr. James Windibank,” said -Holmes. “He has written to me to say that he would be here at -six. Come in!” -

-The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some -thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a -bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and -penetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of -us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a -slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair. -

-“Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “I think that -this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an -appointment with me for six o’clock?” -

-“Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not -quite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland -has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far -better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite -against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, -impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily -controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I -did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the -official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family -misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless -expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?” -

-“On the contrary,” said Holmes quietly; “I have every reason to -believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel.” -

-Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. “I am -delighted to hear it,” he said. -

-“It is a curious thing,” remarked Holmes, “that a typewriter has -really quite as much individuality as a man’s handwriting. Unless -they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some -letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one -side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that -in every case there is some little slurring over of the ‘e,’ and -a slight defect in the tail of the ‘r.’ There are fourteen other -characteristics, but those are the more obvious.” -

-“We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, -and no doubt it is a little worn,” our visitor answered, glancing -keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes. -

-“And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, -Mr. Windibank,” Holmes continued. “I think of writing another -little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its -relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some -little attention. I have here four letters which purport to come -from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not -only are the ‘e’s’ slurred and the ‘r’s’ tailless, but you will -observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen -other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well.” -

-Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. “I -cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,” -he said. “If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know -when you have done it.” -

-“Certainly,” said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in -the door. “I let you know, then, that I have caught him!” -

-“What! where?” shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips -and glancing about him like a rat in a trap. -

-“Oh, it won’t do—really it won’t,” said Holmes suavely. “There -is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too -transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that -it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That’s -right! Sit down and let us talk it over.” -

-Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a -glitter of moisture on his brow. “It—it’s not actionable,” he -stammered. -

-“I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, -Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a -petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the -course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong.” -

-The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his -breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up -on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands -in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, -than to us. -

-“The man married a woman very much older than himself for her -money,” said he, “and he enjoyed the use of the money of the -daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable -sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have -made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it. -The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate -and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with -her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would -not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would -mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her -stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of -keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of -people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not -answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and -finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain -ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an -idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the -connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself, -covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with -a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice -into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the -girl’s short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off -other lovers by making love himself.” -

-“It was only a joke at first,” groaned our visitor. “We never -thought that she would have been so carried away.” -

-“Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very -decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that -her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never -for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the -gentleman’s attentions, and the effect was increased by the -loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began -to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as -far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There -were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the -girl’s affections from turning towards anyone else. But the -deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys -to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to -bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it -would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady’s mind and -prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to -come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and -hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening -on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss -Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to -his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not -listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, -and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished -away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a -four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of -events, Mr. Windibank!” -

-Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes -had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold -sneer upon his pale face. -

-“It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but if you -are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is -you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing -actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door -locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal -constraint.” -

-“The law cannot, as you say, touch you,” said Holmes, unlocking -and throwing open the door, “yet there never was a man who -deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a -friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!” -he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon -the man’s face, “it is not part of my duties to my client, but -here’s a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat -myself to—” He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he -could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, -the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. -James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road. -

-“There’s a cold-blooded scoundrel!” said Holmes, laughing, as he -threw himself down into his chair once more. “That fellow will -rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and -ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not -entirely devoid of interest.” -

-“I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning,” I -remarked. -

-“Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. -Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious -conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really -profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the -stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together, -but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was -suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, -which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My -suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in -typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his -handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even -the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, -together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same -direction.” -

-“And how did you verify them?” -

-“Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I -knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed -description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the -result of a disguise—the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I -sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me -whether it answered to the description of any of their -travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the -typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business -address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his -reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but -characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from -Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the -description tallied in every respect with that of their employé, -James Windibank. Voilà tout!” -

-“And Miss Sutherland?” -

-“If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old -Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger -cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ -There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much -knowledge of the world.” - - -

-
-
-

Adventure IV. The Boscombe Valley Mystery

-

We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the -maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran -in this way: -

-“Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from -the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. -Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. -Leave Paddington by the 11:15.” -

-“What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. -“Will you go?” -

-“I really don’t know what to say. I have a fairly long list at -present.” -

-“Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking -a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, -and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ cases.” -

-“I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained -through one of them,” I answered. “But if I am to go, I must pack -at once, for I have only half an hour.” -

-My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the -effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were -few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a -cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock -Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt -figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey -travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. -

-“It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said he. “It -makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on -whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless -or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall -get the tickets.” -

-We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of -papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged -and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until -we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a -gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. -

-“Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked. -

-“Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.” -

-“The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just -been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the -particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those -simple cases which are so extremely difficult.” -

-“That sounds a little paradoxical.” -

-“But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a -clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more -difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they -have established a very serious case against the son of the -murdered man.” -

-“It is a murder, then?” -

-“Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for -granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into -it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have -been able to understand it, in a very few words. -

-“Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in -Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a -Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned -some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he -held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was -also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the -colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to -settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. -Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his -tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect -equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, -a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same -age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have -avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to -have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of -sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the -neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl. -Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the -least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the -families. Now for the facts. -

-“On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at -Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the -Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out -of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been -out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told -the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of -importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came -back alive. -

-“From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a -mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One -was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was -William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both -these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The -game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. -McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the -same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the -father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was -following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in -the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. -

-“The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, -the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly -wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the -edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of -the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the -woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she -saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. -McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a -violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very -strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his -hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their -violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached -home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near -Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to -fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came -running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead -in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was -much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right -hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On -following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the -grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated -blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as -might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son’s -gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the -body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly -arrested, and a verdict of ‘wilful murder’ having been returned -at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the -magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next -Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out -before the coroner and the police-court.” -

-“I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I remarked. “If -ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so -here.” -

-“Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” answered Holmes -thoughtfully. “It may seem to point very straight to one thing, -but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it -pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something -entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case -looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very -possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people -in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the -daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his -innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect -in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in -his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the -case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are -flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly -digesting their breakfasts at home.” -

-“I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious that you -will find little credit to be gained out of this case.” -

-“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact,” he -answered, laughing. “Besides, we may chance to hit upon some -other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to -Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting -when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by -means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of -understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly -perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand -side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted -even so self-evident a thing as that.” -

-“How on earth—” -

-“My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness -which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this -season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less -and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until -it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the -jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated -than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking -at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a -result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and -inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that -it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before -us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in -the inquest, and which are worth considering.” -

-“What are they?” -

-“It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after -the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary -informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not -surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. -This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any -traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the -coroner’s jury.” -

-“It was a confession,” I ejaculated. -

-“No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence.” -

-“Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at -least a most suspicious remark.” -

-“On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest rift which I -can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, -he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the -circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared -surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I -should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such -surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, -and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His -frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent -man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and -firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not -unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of -his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day -so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and -even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so -important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The -self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark -appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a -guilty one.” -

-I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighter -evidence,” I remarked. -

-“So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.” -

-“What is the young man’s own account of the matter?” -

-“It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, -though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. -You will find it here, and may read it for yourself.” -

-He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire -paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the -paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own -statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the -corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this -way: -

-“Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called -and gave evidence as follows: ‘I had been away from home for -three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the -morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at -the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he -had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after -my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, -looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out -of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was -going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of -the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit -warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William -Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but -he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had -no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards -from the pool I heard a cry of “Cooee!” which was a usual signal -between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found -him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at -seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A -conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, -for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his -passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned -towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, -however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me -to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, -with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in -my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for -some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner’s lodge-keeper, -his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one -near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by -his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and -forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no -active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.’ -

-“The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before -he died? -

-“Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some -allusion to a rat. -

-“The Coroner: What did you understand by that? -

-“Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was -delirious. -

-“The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father -had this final quarrel? -

-“Witness: I should prefer not to answer. -

-“The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. -

-“Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can -assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which -followed. -

-“The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point -out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case -considerably in any future proceedings which may arise. -

-“Witness: I must still refuse. -

-“The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee’ was a common -signal between you and your father? -

-“Witness: It was. -

-“The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw -you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? -

-“Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. -

-“A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions -when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father -fatally injured? -

-“Witness: Nothing definite. -

-“The Coroner: What do you mean? -

-“Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into -the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet -I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay -upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be -something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. -When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was -gone. -

-“ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?’ -

-“ ‘Yes, it was gone.’ -

-“ ‘You cannot say what it was?’ -

-“ ‘No, I had a feeling something was there.’ -

-“ ‘How far from the body?’ -

-“ ‘A dozen yards or so.’ -

-“ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood?’ -

-“ ‘About the same.’ -

-“ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen -yards of it?’ -

-“ ‘Yes, but with my back towards it.’ -

-“This concluded the examination of the witness.” -

-“I see,” said I as I glanced down the column, “that the coroner -in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. -He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his -father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his -refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and -his singular account of his father’s dying words. They are all, -as he remarks, very much against the son.” -

-Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon -the cushioned seat. “Both you and the coroner have been at some -pains,” said he, “to single out the very strongest points in the -young man’s favour. Don’t you see that you alternately give him -credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too -little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would -give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from -his own inner consciousness anything so outré as a dying -reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, -sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what -this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that -hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and -not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the -scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be -there in twenty minutes.” -

-It was nearly four o’clock when we at last, after passing through -the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, -found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A -lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for -us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and -leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic -surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of -Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a -room had already been engaged for us. -

-“I have ordered a carriage,” said Lestrade as we sat over a cup -of tea. “I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be -happy until you had been on the scene of the crime.” -

-“It was very nice and complimentary of you,” Holmes answered. “It -is entirely a question of barometric pressure.” -

-Lestrade looked startled. “I do not quite follow,” he said. -

-“How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud -in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need -smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country -hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I -shall use the carriage to-night.” -

-Lestrade laughed indulgently. “You have, no doubt, already formed -your conclusions from the newspapers,” he said. “The case is as -plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer -it becomes. Still, of course, one can’t refuse a lady, and such a -very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your -opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing -which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my -soul! here is her carriage at the door.” -

-He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the -most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her -violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her -cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her -overpowering excitement and concern. -

-“Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” she cried, glancing from one to the -other of us, and finally, with a woman’s quick intuition, -fastening upon my companion, “I am so glad that you have come. I -have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn’t do it. -I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, -too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each -other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no -one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a -charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him.” -

-“I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner,” said Sherlock Holmes. -“You may rely upon my doing all that I can.” -

-“But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? -Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself -think that he is innocent?” -

-“I think that it is very probable.” -

-“There, now!” she cried, throwing back her head and looking -defiantly at Lestrade. “You hear! He gives me hopes.” -

-Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am afraid that my colleague -has been a little quick in forming his conclusions,” he said. -

-“But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did -it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the -reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because -I was concerned in it.” -

-“In what way?” asked Holmes. -

-“It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had -many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that -there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always -loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young -and has seen very little of life yet, and—and—well, he -naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there -were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them.” -

-“And your father?” asked Holmes. “Was he in favour of such a -union?” -

-“No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in -favour of it.” A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as -Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. -

-“Thank you for this information,” said he. “May I see your father -if I call to-morrow?” -

-“I am afraid the doctor won’t allow it.” -

-“The doctor?” -

-“Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for -years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken -to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his -nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive -who had known dad in the old days in Victoria.” -

-“Ha! In Victoria! That is important.” -

-“Yes, at the mines.” -

-“Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner -made his money.” -

-“Yes, certainly.” -

-“Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to -me.” -

-“You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you -will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do -tell him that I know him to be innocent.” -

-“I will, Miss Turner.” -

-“I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if -I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking.” She -hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we -heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. -

-“I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade with dignity after a -few minutes’ silence. “Why should you raise up hopes which you -are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I -call it cruel.” -

-“I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy,” said -Holmes. “Have you an order to see him in prison?” -

-“Yes, but only for you and me.” -

-“Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have -still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?” -

-“Ample.” -

-“Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very -slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours.” -

-I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through -the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, -where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a -yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, -however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were -groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the -action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and -gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the -day. Supposing that this unhappy young man’s story were -absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely -unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between -the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, -drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was -something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the -nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? -I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which -contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon’s -deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left -parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been -shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot -upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from -behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when -seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it -did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his -back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call -Holmes’ attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying -reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be -delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become -delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how -he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my -brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident -of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the -murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his -overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to -return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was -kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a -tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I -did not wonder at Lestrade’s opinion, and yet I had so much faith -in Sherlock Holmes’ insight that I could not lose hope as long -as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young -McCarthy’s innocence. -

-It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, -for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. -

-“The glass still keeps very high,” he remarked as he sat down. -“It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able -to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his -very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not -wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young -McCarthy.” -

-“And what did you learn from him?” -

-“Nothing.” -

-“Could he throw no light?” -

-“None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew -who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced -now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very -quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, -sound at heart.” -

-“I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is indeed a fact -that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as -this Miss Turner.” -

-“Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, -insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was -only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away -five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get -into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a -registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can -imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not -doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows -to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort -which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, -at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss -Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, -and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would -have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with -his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in -Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that -point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, -for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious -trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and -has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the -Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I -think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all -that he has suffered.” -

-“But if he is innocent, who has done it?” -

-“Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two -points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with -someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his -son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would -return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry -‘Cooee!’ before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the -crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk -about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all -minor matters until to-morrow.” -

-There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke -bright and cloudless. At nine o’clock Lestrade called for us with -the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe -Pool. -

-“There is serious news this morning,” Lestrade observed. “It is -said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is -despaired of.” -

-“An elderly man, I presume?” said Holmes. -

-“About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life -abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This -business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend -of McCarthy’s, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I -have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free.” -

-“Indeed! That is interesting,” said Holmes. -

-“Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody -about here speaks of his kindness to him.” -

-“Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this -McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have -been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of -marrying his son to Turner’s daughter, who is, presumably, -heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, -as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would -follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself -was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not -deduce something from that?” -

-“We have got to the deductions and the inferences,” said -Lestrade, winking at me. “I find it hard enough to tackle facts, -Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies.” -

-“You are right,” said Holmes demurely; “you do find it very hard -to tackle the facts.” -

-“Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it -difficult to get hold of,” replied Lestrade with some warmth. -

-“And that is—” -

-“That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that -all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.” -

-“Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,” said Holmes, -laughing. “But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley -Farm upon the left.” -

-“Yes, that is it.” It was a widespread, comfortable-looking -building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches -of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless -chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight -of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, -when the maid, at Holmes’ request, showed us the boots which her -master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the -son’s, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured -these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes -desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed -the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. -

-Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent -as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of -Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed -and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, -while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. -His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips -compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, -sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal -lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated -upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell -unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, -impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way -along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of -the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is -all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon -the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either -side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and -once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and -I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, -while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the -conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a -definite end. -

-The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water -some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the -Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. -Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see -the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich -landowner’s dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods -grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass -twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds -which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which -the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, -that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the -fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager -face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read -upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking -up a scent, and then turned upon my companion. -

-“What did you go into the pool for?” he asked. -

-“I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon -or other trace. But how on earth—” -

-“Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its -inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and -there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all -have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo -and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the -lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or -eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of -the same feet.” He drew out a lens and lay down upon his -waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to -himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy’s feet. Twice he -was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are -deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his -story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are -the father’s feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It -is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? -Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite -unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again—of course -that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?” He ran up -and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we -were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a -great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced -his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon -his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he -remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, -gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and -examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of -the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among -the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then -he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the -highroad, where all traces were lost. -

-“It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, -returning to his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on -the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a -word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done -that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, -and I shall be with you presently.” -

-It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove -back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he -had picked up in the wood. -

-“This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. -“The murder was done with it.” -

-“I see no marks.” -

-“There are none.” -

-“How do you know, then?” -

-“The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few -days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It -corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other -weapon.” -

-“And the murderer?” -

-“Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears -thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian -cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his -pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be -enough to aid us in our search.” -

-Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he -said. “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a -hard-headed British jury.” -

-“Nous verrons,” answered Holmes calmly. “You work your own -method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, -and shall probably return to London by the evening train.” -

-“And leave your case unfinished?” -

-“No, finished.” -

-“But the mystery?” -

-“It is solved.” -

-“Who was the criminal, then?” -

-“The gentleman I describe.” -

-“But who is he?” -

-“Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a -populous neighbourhood.” -

-Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical man,” he said, -“and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking -for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the -laughing-stock of Scotland Yard.” -

-“All right,” said Holmes quietly. “I have given you the chance. -Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before -I leave.” -

-Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where -we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in -thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds -himself in a perplexing position. -

-“Look here, Watson,” he said when the cloth was cleared “just sit -down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don’t -know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a -cigar and let me expound.” -

- “Pray do so.” -

-“Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about -young McCarthy’s narrative which struck us both instantly, -although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One -was the fact that his father should, according to his account, -cry ‘Cooee!’ before seeing him. The other was his singular dying -reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but -that was all that caught the son’s ear. Now from this double -point our research must commence, and we will begin it by -presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true.” -

-“What of this ‘Cooee!’ then?” -

-“Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The -son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that -he was within earshot. The ‘Cooee!’ was meant to attract the -attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But -‘Cooee’ is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used -between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the -person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was -someone who had been in Australia.” -

-“What of the rat, then?” -

-Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened -it out on the table. “This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,” -he said. “I wired to Bristol for it last night.” He put his hand -over part of the map. “What do you read?” -

-“ARAT,” I read. -

-“And now?” He raised his hand. -

-“BALLARAT.” -

-“Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his -son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter -the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat.” -

-“It is wonderful!” I exclaimed. -

-“It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down -considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point -which, granting the son’s statement to be correct, was a -certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite -conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.” -

-“Certainly.” -

-“And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only -be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could -hardly wander.” -

-“Quite so.” -

-“Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the -ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that -imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal.” -

-“But how did you gain them?” -

-“You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of -trifles.” -

-“His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length -of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.” -

-“Yes, they were peculiar boots.” -

-“But his lameness?” -

-“The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than -his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped—he -was lame.” -

-“But his left-handedness.” -

-“You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded -by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from -immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can -that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind -that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had -even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special -knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian -cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and -written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different -varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the -ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss -where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety -which are rolled in Rotterdam.” -

-“And the cigar-holder?” -

-“I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he -used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the -cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.” -

-“Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this man from which -he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as -truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the -direction in which all this points. The culprit is—” -

-“Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of -our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. -

-The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His -slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of -decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and -his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual -strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled -hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air -of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an -ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were -tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that -he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. -

-“Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes gently. “You had my -note?” -

-“Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to -see me here to avoid scandal.” -

-“I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.” -

-“And why did you wish to see me?” He looked across at my -companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question -was already answered. -

-“Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. “It -is so. I know all about McCarthy.” -

-The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help me!” he cried. -“But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you -my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at -the Assizes.” -

-“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes gravely. -

-“I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It -would break her heart—it will break her heart when she hears -that I am arrested.” -

-“It may not come to that,” said Holmes. -

-“What?” -

-“I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter -who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. -Young McCarthy must be got off, however.” -

-“I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had diabetes for -years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a -month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol.” -

-Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand -and a bundle of paper before him. “Just tell us the truth,” he -said. “I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson -here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the -last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall -not use it unless it is absolutely needed.” -

-“It’s as well,” said the old man; “it’s a question whether I -shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I -should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the -thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but -will not take me long to tell. -

-“You didn’t know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil -incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of -such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, -and he has blasted my life. I’ll tell you first how I came to be -in his power. -

-“It was in the early ’60’s at the diggings. I was a young chap -then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at -anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck -with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you -would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and -we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time -to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. -Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party -is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. -

-“One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and -we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers -and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of -their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, -however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of -the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the -Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his -wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every -feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made -our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted -from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and -respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in -the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, -to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, -and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. -Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down -the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned -over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was -going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. -

-“I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in -Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his -foot. -

-“ ‘Here we are, Jack,’ says he, touching me on the arm; ‘we’ll be -as good as a family to you. There’s two of us, me and my son, and -you can have the keeping of us. If you don’t—it’s a fine, -law-abiding country is England, and there’s always a policeman -within hail.’ -

-“Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking -them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land -ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; -turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my -elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more -afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he -wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without -question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing -which I could not give. He asked for Alice. -

-“His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was -known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that -his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was -firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that -I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that -was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do -his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses -to talk it over. -

-“When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I -smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. -But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in -me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my -daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she -were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I -and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a -man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and -a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, -I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! -Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I -did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, -I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl -should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more -than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction -than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought -back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I -was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in -my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that -occurred.” -

-“Well, it is not for me to judge you,” said Holmes as the old man -signed the statement which had been drawn out. “I pray that we -may never be exposed to such a temptation.” -

-“I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?” -

-“In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you -will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the -Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is -condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be -seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or -dead, shall be safe with us.” -

-“Farewell, then,” said the old man solemnly. “Your own deathbeds, -when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace -which you have given to mine.” Tottering and shaking in all his -giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. -

-“God help us!” said Holmes after a long silence. “Why does fate -play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such -a case as this that I do not think of Baxter’s words, and say, -‘There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.’ ” -

-James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a -number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and -submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven -months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is -every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily -together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their -past. - - -

-
-
-

Adventure V. The Five Orange Pips

-

When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes -cases between the years ’82 and ’90, I am faced by so many which -present strange and interesting features that it is no easy -matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, -have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have -not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend -possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of -these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his -analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without -an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and -have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and -surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to -him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable -in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted -to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are -points in connection with it which never have been, and probably -never will be, entirely cleared up. -

-The year ’87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater -or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my -headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the -adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant -Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a -furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the -British barque Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the -Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the -Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, -Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man’s watch, to -prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that -therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time—a -deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the -case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of -them present such singular features as the strange train of -circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe. -

-It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales -had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had -screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that -even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced -to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and -to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which -shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like -untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew -higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in -the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the -fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the -other was deep in one of Clark Russell’s fine sea-stories until -the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, -and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of -the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a -few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker -Street. -

-“Why,” said I, glancing up at my companion, “that was surely the -bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” -

-“Except yourself I have none,” he answered. “I do not encourage -visitors.” -

-“A client, then?” -

-“If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out -on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more -likely to be some crony of the landlady’s.” -

-Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there -came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He -stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and -towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit. -

-“Come in!” said he. -

-The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the -outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of -refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella -which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told -of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about -him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his -face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is -weighed down with some great anxiety. -

-“I owe you an apology,” he said, raising his golden pince-nez to -his eyes. “I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have -brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug -chamber.” -

-“Give me your coat and umbrella,” said Holmes. “They may rest -here on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from -the south-west, I see.” -

-“Yes, from Horsham.” -

-“That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is -quite distinctive.” -

-“I have come for advice.” -

-“That is easily got.” -

-“And help.” -

-“That is not always so easy.” -

-“I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast -how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal.” -

-“Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.” -

-“He said that you could solve anything.” -

-“He said too much.” -

-“That you are never beaten.” -

-“I have been beaten four times—three times by men, and once by a -woman.” -

-“But what is that compared with the number of your successes?” -

-“It is true that I have been generally successful.” -

-“Then you may be so with me.” -

-“I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me -with some details as to your case.” -

-“It is no ordinary one.” -

-“None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of -appeal.” -

-“And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you -have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of -events than those which have happened in my own family.” -

-“You fill me with interest,” said Holmes. “Pray give us the -essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards -question you as to those details which seem to me to be most -important.” -

-The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out -towards the blaze. -

-“My name,” said he, “is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, -as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful -business. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an -idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the -affair. -

-“You must know that my grandfather had two sons—my uncle Elias -and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, -which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He -was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business -met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire -upon a handsome competence. -

-“My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and -became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done -very well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson’s army, -and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When -Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where -he remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came -back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. -He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and his -reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and his -dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to -them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very -foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring -disposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I -doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two or -three fields round his house, and there he would take his -exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave -his room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very -heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any -friends, not even his own brother. -

-“He didn’t mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the -time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This -would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years -in England. He begged my father to let me live with him and he -was very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to be -fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would -make me his representative both with the servants and with the -tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite -master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I -liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in -his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he -had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was -invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or -anyone else to enter. With a boy’s curiosity I have peeped -through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a -collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such -a room. -

-“One day—it was in March, 1883—a letter with a foreign stamp -lay upon the table in front of the colonel’s plate. It was not a -common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all -paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. ‘From -India!’ said he as he took it up, ‘Pondicherry postmark! What can -this be?’ Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little -dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began to -laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight -of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his -skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he -still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ he shrieked, and -then, ‘My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’ -

-“ ‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried. -

-“ ‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his -room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope -and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the -gum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else -save the five dried pips. What could be the reason of his -overpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as I -ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key, -which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small -brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. -

-“ ‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ -said he with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my -room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’ -

-“I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to -step up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the -grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned -paper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As I -glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was -printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the -envelope. -

-“ ‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave -my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to -my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to -you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you -cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest -enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t -say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paper -where Mr. Fordham shows you.’ -

-“I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with -him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest -impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every -way in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet I -could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left -behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed -and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I -could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever, -and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his -time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the -inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy -and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a -revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, -and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by -man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would -rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, -like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror -which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seen -his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it -were new raised from a basin. -

-“Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to -abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those -drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when -we went to search for him, face downward in a little -green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There -was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, -so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, -brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew how he winced -from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself -that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, -however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and -of some £14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.” -

-“One moment,” Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, -one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me -have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and -the date of his supposed suicide.” -

-“The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks -later, upon the night of May 2nd.” -

-“Thank you. Pray proceed.” -

-“When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my -request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been -always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its -contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a -paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and -‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’ written beneath. -These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had -been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was -nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many -scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in -America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had -done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. -Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern -states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had -evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag -politicians who had been sent down from the North. -

-“Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at -Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the -January of ’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my -father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the -breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened -envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the -outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what -he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked -very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon -himself. -

-“ ‘Why, what on earth does this mean, John?’ he stammered. -

-“My heart had turned to lead. ‘It is K. K. K.,’ said I. -

-“He looked inside the envelope. ‘So it is,’ he cried. ‘Here are -the very letters. But what is this written above them?’ -

-“ ‘Put the papers on the sundial,’ I read, peeping over his -shoulder. -

-“ ‘What papers? What sundial?’ he asked. -

-“ ‘The sundial in the garden. There is no other,’ said I; ‘but the -papers must be those that are destroyed.’ -

-“ ‘Pooh!’ said he, gripping hard at his courage. ‘We are in a -civilised land here, and we can’t have tomfoolery of this kind. -Where does the thing come from?’ -

-“ ‘From Dundee,’ I answered, glancing at the postmark. -

-“ ‘Some preposterous practical joke,’ said he. ‘What have I to do -with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such -nonsense.’ -

-“ ‘I should certainly speak to the police,’ I said. -

-“ ‘And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.’ -

-“ ‘Then let me do so?’ -

-“ ‘No, I forbid you. I won’t have a fuss made about such -nonsense.’ -

-“It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate -man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of -forebodings. -

-“On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went -from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is -in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad -that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from -danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in -error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram -from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had -fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the -neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I -hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered -his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from -Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, -and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in -bringing in a verdict of ‘death from accidental causes.’ -Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, I -was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of -murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no -robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. -And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, -and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been -woven round him. -

-“In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me -why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well -convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an -incident in my uncle’s life, and that the danger would be as -pressing in one house as in another. -

-“It was in January, ’85, that my poor father met his end, and two -years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time -I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that -this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended -with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, -however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in -which it had come upon my father.” -

-The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and -turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried -orange pips. -

-“This is the envelope,” he continued. “The postmark is -London—eastern division. Within are the very words which were -upon my father’s last message: ‘K. K. K.’; and then ‘Put the -papers on the sundial.’ ” -

-“What have you done?” asked Holmes. -

-“Nothing.” -

-“Nothing?” -

-“To tell the truth”—he sank his face into his thin, white -hands—“I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor -rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in -the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight -and no precautions can guard against.” -

-“Tut! tut!” cried Sherlock Holmes. “You must act, man, or you are -lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for -despair.” -

-“I have seen the police.” -

-“Ah!” -

-“But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that -the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all -practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really -accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with -the warnings.” -

-Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. “Incredible -imbecility!” he cried. -

-“They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in -the house with me.” -

-“Has he come with you to-night?” -

-“No. His orders were to stay in the house.” -

-Again Holmes raved in the air. -

-“Why did you come to me,” he cried, “and, above all, why did you -not come at once?” -

-“I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major -Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to -you.” -

-“It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have -acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than -that which you have placed before us—no suggestive detail which -might help us?” -

-“There is one thing,” said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat -pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted -paper, he laid it out upon the table. “I have some remembrance,” -said he, “that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I -observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the -ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet -upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it -may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from -among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond -the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think -myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is -undoubtedly my uncle’s.” -

-Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, -which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from -a book. It was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the -following enigmatical notices: -

-“4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. -

-“7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and

        John Swain, of St. -Augustine. -

-“9th. McCauley cleared. -

-“10th. John Swain cleared. -

-“12th. Visited Paramore. All well.” -

-“Thank you!” said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it -to our visitor. “And now you must on no account lose another -instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told -me. You must get home instantly and act.” -

-“What shall I do?” -

-“There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must -put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass -box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say -that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that -this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such -words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you -must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do -you understand?” -

-“Entirely.” -

-“Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I -think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our -web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first -consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens -you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the -guilty parties.” -

-“I thank you,” said the young man, rising and pulling on his -overcoat. “You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall -certainly do as you advise.” -

-“Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in -the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that -you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you -go back?” -

-“By train from Waterloo.” -

-“It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that -you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too -closely.” -

-“I am armed.” -

-“That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.” -

-“I shall see you at Horsham, then?” -

-“No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek -it.” -

-“Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news -as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every -particular.” He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside -the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered -against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come -to us from amid the mad elements—blown in upon us like a sheet -of sea-weed in a gale—and now to have been reabsorbed by them -once more. -

-Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk -forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he -lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue -smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. -

-“I think, Watson,” he remarked at last, “that of all our cases we -have had none more fantastic than this.” -

-“Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four.” -

-“Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems -to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the -Sholtos.” -

-“But have you,” I asked, “formed any definite conception as to -what these perils are?” -

-“There can be no question as to their nature,” he answered. -

-“Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue -this unhappy family?” -

-Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the -arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. “The ideal -reasoner,” he remarked, “would, when he had once been shown a -single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the -chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which -would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole -animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who -has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents -should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both -before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the -reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study -which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the -aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest -pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to -utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this -in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all -knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and -encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so -impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge -which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have -endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one -occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits -in a very precise fashion.” -

-“Yes,” I answered, laughing. “It was a singular document. -Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I -remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the -mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry -eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime -records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and -self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the -main points of my analysis.” -

-Holmes grinned at the last item. “Well,” he said, “I say now, as -I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic -stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the -rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he -can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which -has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster -all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the -American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you. -Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be -deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong -presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for -leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their -habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for -the lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love -of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of -someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis -that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from -America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by -considering the formidable letters which were received by himself -and his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those -letters?” -

-“The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the -third from London.” -

-“From East London. What do you deduce from that?” -

-“They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship.” -

-“Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that -the probability—the strong probability—is that the writer was -on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the -case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and -its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. -Does that suggest anything?” -

-“A greater distance to travel.” -

-“But the letter had also a greater distance to come.” -

-“Then I do not see the point.” -

-“There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man -or men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send -their singular warning or token before them when starting upon -their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign -when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a -steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. -But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those -seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which -brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the -writer.” -

-“It is possible.” -

-“More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly -urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to -caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which -it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one -comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay.” -

-“Good God!” I cried. “What can it mean, this relentless -persecution?” -

-“The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital -importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think -that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. -A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way -as to deceive a coroner’s jury. There must have been several in -it, and they must have been men of resource and determination. -Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. -In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an -individual and becomes the badge of a society.” -

-“But of what society?” -

-“Have you never—” said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and -sinking his voice—“have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?” -

-“I never have.” -

-Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. “Here it -is,” said he presently: -

-“ ‘Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to -the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret -society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the -Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local -branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, -Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was -used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of -the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country -of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually -preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic -but generally recognised shape—a sprig of oak-leaves in some -parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this -the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might -fly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would -unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and -unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the -society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a -case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with -impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the -perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite -of the efforts of the United States government and of the better -classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year -1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have -been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.’ -

-“You will observe,” said Holmes, laying down the volume, “that -the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the -disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may -well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his -family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. -You can understand that this register and diary may implicate -some of the first men in the South, and that there may be many -who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered.” -

-“Then the page we have seen—” -

-“Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, ‘sent -the pips to A, B, and C’—that is, sent the society’s warning to -them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or -left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a -sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let -some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only -chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have -told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done -to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for -half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable -ways of our fellow men.” -

-

-It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a -subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the -great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came -down. -

-“You will excuse me for not waiting for you,” said he; “I have, I -foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of -young Openshaw’s.” -

-“What steps will you take?” I asked. -

-“It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. -I may have to go down to Horsham, after all.” -

-“You will not go there first?” -

-“No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the -maid will bring up your coffee.” -

-As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and -glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a -chill to my heart. -

-“Holmes,” I cried, “you are too late.” -

-“Ah!” said he, laying down his cup, “I feared as much. How was it -done?” He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. -

-“My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading ‘Tragedy -Near Waterloo Bridge.’ Here is the account: -

-“ ‘Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H -Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and -a splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and -stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it -was quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was -given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was -eventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman -whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his -pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. -It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch -the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and -the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge -of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The body -exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that -the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, -which should have the effect of calling the attention of the -authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages.’ ” -

-We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and -shaken than I had ever seen him. -

-“That hurts my pride, Watson,” he said at last. “It is a petty -feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal -matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my -hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that -I should send him away to his death—!” He sprang from his chair -and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a -flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and -unclasping of his long thin hands. -

-“They must be cunning devils,” he exclaimed at last. “How could -they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the -direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too -crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, -we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!” -

-“To the police?” -

-“No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may -take the flies, but not before.” -

-All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in -the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes -had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o’clock before he -entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, -and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, -washing it down with a long draught of water. -

-“You are hungry,” I remarked. -

-“Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since -breakfast.” -

-“Nothing?” -

-“Not a bite. I had no time to think of it.” -

-“And how have you succeeded?” -

-“Well.” -

-“You have a clue?” -

-“I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not -long remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish -trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!” -

-“What do you mean?” -

-He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he -squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and -thrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote -“S. H. for J. O.” Then he sealed it and addressed it to “Captain -James Calhoun, Barque Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia.” -

-“That will await him when he enters port,” said he, chuckling. -“It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a -precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him.” -

-“And who is this Captain Calhoun?” -

-“The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.” -

-“How did you trace it, then?” -

-He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with -dates and names. -

-“I have spent the whole day,” said he, “over Lloyd’s registers -and files of the old papers, following the future career of every -vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in -’83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were -reported there during those months. Of these, one, the Lone Star, -instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported -as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to -one of the states of the Union.” -

-“Texas, I think.” -

-“I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must -have an American origin.” -

-“What then?” -

-“I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque -Lone Star was there in January, ’85, my suspicion became a -certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present -in the port of London.” -

-“Yes?” -

-“The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the -Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by -the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired -to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and -as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the -Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight.” -

-“What will you do, then?” -

-“Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I -learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are -Finns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away -from the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who has -been loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship -reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and -the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these -three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder.” -

-There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, -and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the -orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as -resolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very -severe were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for -news of the Lone Star of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We -did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a -shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough -of a wave, with the letters “L. S.” carved upon it, and that is -all which we shall ever know of the fate of the Lone Star. - - -

-
-
-

Adventure VI. The Man With the Twisted Lip

-

Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal -of the Theological College of St. George’s, was much addicted to -opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some -foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De -Quincey’s description of his dreams and sensations, he had -drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the -same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the -practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many -years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of -mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see -him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point -pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble -man. -

-One night—it was in June, ’89—there came a ring to my bell, -about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the -clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work -down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment. -

-“A patient!” said she. “You’ll have to go out.” -

-I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day. -

-We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps -upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in -some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. -

-“You will excuse my calling so late,” she began, and then, -suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms -about my wife’s neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. “Oh, I’m in -such trouble!” she cried; “I do so want a little help.” -

-“Why,” said my wife, pulling up her veil, “it is Kate Whitney. -How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when -you came in.” -

-“I didn’t know what to do, so I came straight to you.” That was -always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds -to a light-house. -

-“It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine -and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or -should you rather that I sent James off to bed?” -

-“Oh, no, no! I want the doctor’s advice and help, too. It’s about -Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about -him!” -

-It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her -husband’s trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend -and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words -as we could find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it -possible that we could bring him back to her? -

-It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late -he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the -farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been -confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and -shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him -eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the -dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the -effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar -of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could -she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and -pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? -

-There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of -it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second -thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney’s medical -adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it -better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would -send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the -address which she had given me. And so in ten minutes I had left -my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding -eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at -the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to -be. -

-But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my -adventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the -high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east -of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached -by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the -mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I was in search. -Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in -the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the -light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch -and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the -brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the -forecastle of an emigrant ship. -

-Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying -in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads -thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a -dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black -shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, -now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of -the metal pipes. The most lay silent, but some muttered to -themselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, -monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and then -suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own -thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At -the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside -which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old -man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon -his knees, staring into the fire. -

-As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe -for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. -

-“Thank you. I have not come to stay,” said I. “There is a friend -of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.” -

-There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and -peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and -unkempt, staring out at me. -

-“My God! It’s Watson,” said he. He was in a pitiable state of -reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. “I say, Watson, what -o’clock is it?” -

-“Nearly eleven.” -

-“Of what day?” -

-“Of Friday, June 19th.” -

-“Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What -d’you want to frighten a chap for?” He sank his face onto his -arms and began to sob in a high treble key. -

-“I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting -this two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!” -

-“So I am. But you’ve got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here -a few hours, three pipes, four pipes—I forget how many. But I’ll -go home with you. I wouldn’t frighten Kate—poor little Kate. -Give me your hand! Have you a cab?” -

-“Yes, I have one waiting.” -

-“Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I -owe, Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself.” -

-I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of -sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying -fumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed -the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my -skirt, and a low voice whispered, “Walk past me, and then look -back at me.” The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I -glanced down. They could only have come from the old man at my -side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very -wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between -his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his -fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my -self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of -astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him -but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull -eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and -grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He -made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he -turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided -into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. -

-“Holmes!” I whispered, “what on earth are you doing in this den?” -

-“As low as you can,” he answered; “I have excellent ears. If you -would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend -of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with -you.” -

-“I have a cab outside.” -

-“Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he -appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should -recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to -say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait -outside, I shall be with you in five minutes.” -

-It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’ requests, for -they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with -such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney -was once confined in the cab my mission was practically -accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better -than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular -adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. In a -few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney’s bill, led him -out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a -very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, -and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two -streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. -Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and -burst into a hearty fit of laughter. -

-“I suppose, Watson,” said he, “that you imagine that I have added -opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little -weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical -views.” -

-“I was certainly surprised to find you there.” -

-“But not more so than I to find you.” -

-“I came to find a friend.” -

-“And I to find an enemy.” -

-“An enemy?” -

-“Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural -prey. Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable -inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent -ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now. Had I been -recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an -hour’s purchase; for I have used it before now for my own -purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have -vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that -building, near the corner of Paul’s Wharf, which could tell some -strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless -nights.” -

-“What! You do not mean bodies?” -

-“Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 -for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It -is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that -Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our -trap should be here.” He put his two forefingers between his -teeth and whistled shrilly—a signal which was answered by a -similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle -of wheels and the clink of horses’ hoofs. -

-“Now, Watson,” said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through -the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from -its side lanterns. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” -

-“If I can be of use.” -

-“Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still -more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.” -

-“The Cedars?” -

-“Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair’s house. I am staying there while I -conduct the inquiry.” -

-“Where is it, then?” -

-“Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.” -

-“But I am all in the dark.” -

-“Of course you are. You’ll know all about it presently. Jump up -here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here’s half a -crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her -head. So long, then!” -

-He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through -the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which -widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad -balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly -beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and -mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of -the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of -revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a -star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of -the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his -breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat -beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which -seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in -upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles, -and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban -villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up -his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he -is acting for the best. -

-“You have a grand gift of silence, Watson,” said he. “It makes -you quite invaluable as a companion. ’Pon my word, it is a great -thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are -not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear -little woman to-night when she meets me at the door.” -

-“You forget that I know nothing about it.” -

-“I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before -we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can -get nothing to go upon. There’s plenty of thread, no doubt, but I -can’t get the end of it into my hand. Now, I’ll state the case -clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a -spark where all is dark to me.” -

-“Proceed, then.” -

-“Some years ago—to be definite, in May, 1884—there came to Lee -a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have -plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very -nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made -friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter -of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no -occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into -town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon -Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of -age, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very -affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all who know -him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far -as we have been able to ascertain, amount to £88 10s., while -he has £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and -Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money -troubles have been weighing upon his mind. -

-“Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier -than usual, remarking before he started that he had two important -commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy -home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife -received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his -departure, to the effect that a small parcel of considerable -value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the -offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are well up -in your London, you will know that the office of the company is -in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where -you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for -the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the company’s office, -got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through -Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me -so far?” -

-“It is very clear.” -

-“If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. -Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, -as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. -While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly -heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her -husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning -to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she -distinctly saw his face, which she describes as being terribly -agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then -vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that -he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. -One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that -although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town -in, he had on neither collar nor necktie. -

-“Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the -steps—for the house was none other than the opium den in which -you found me to-night—and running through the front room she -attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At -the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of -whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who -acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled -with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the -lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of -constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The -inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of the -continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to -the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no -sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was -no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, -it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly -swore that no one else had been in the front room during the -afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was -staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had -been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box -which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell -a cascade of children’s bricks. It was the toy which he had -promised to bring home. -

-“This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple -showed, made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. -The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an -abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a -sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon -the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom -window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered -at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The -bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On -examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, -and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of -the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were -all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of -his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch—all were -there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these -garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. -Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no -other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon -the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by -swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of -the tragedy. -

-“And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately -implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the -vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair’s story, he was -known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few -seconds of her husband’s appearance at the window, he could -hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His defence -was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no -knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he -could not account in any way for the presence of the missing -gentleman’s clothes. -

-“So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who -lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was -certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. -Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which -is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a -professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police -regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some -little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand -side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the -wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, -cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he -is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the -greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I -have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of -making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised -at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His -appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him -without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face -disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has -turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a -pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular -contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid -the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he -is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be -thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now -learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been -the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest.” -

-“But a cripple!” said I. “What could he have done single-handed -against a man in the prime of life?” -

-“He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in -other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. -Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that -weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional -strength in the others.” -

-“Pray continue your narrative.” -

-“Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the -window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her -presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. -Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful -examination of the premises, but without finding anything which -threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in not -arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes -during which he might have communicated with his friend the -Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and -searched, without anything being found which could incriminate -him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his right -shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been -cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from -there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and -that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from -the same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. -Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in -his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As to -Mrs. St. Clair’s assertion that she had actually seen her husband -at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or -dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the -police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in -the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. -

-“And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they -had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair’s coat, and not -Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And -what do you think they found in the pockets?” -

-“I cannot imagine.” -

-“No, I don’t think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with -pennies and half-pennies—421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It -was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a -human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between -the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the -weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked -away into the river.” -

-“But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the -room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?” -

-“No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose -that this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the -window, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed. -What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike him -that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seize -the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it -would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little -time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried -to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from his -Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. -There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret -hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he -stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the -pockets to make sure of the coat’s sinking. He throws it out, and -would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard -the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the -window when the police appeared.” -

-“It certainly sounds feasible.” -

-“Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a -better. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the -station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before -been anything against him. He had for years been known as a -professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very -quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and -the questions which have to be solved—what Neville St. Clair was -doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is -he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance—are -all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot -recall any case within my experience which looked at the first -glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.” -

-While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of -events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great -town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and -we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. -Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered -villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. -

-“We are on the outskirts of Lee,” said my companion. “We have -touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in -Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. -See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside -that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have -little doubt, caught the clink of our horse’s feet.” -

-“But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?” I -asked. -

-“Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. -Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and -you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for -my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have -no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!” -

-We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its -own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse’s head, and -springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding -gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door -flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad -in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy -pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure -outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one -half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head -and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing -question. -

-“Well?” she cried, “well?” And then, seeing that there were two -of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw -that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. -

-“No good news?” -

-“None.” -

-“No bad?” -

-“No.” -

-“Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have -had a long day.” -

-“This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to -me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it -possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this -investigation.” -

-“I am delighted to see you,” said she, pressing my hand warmly. -“You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our -arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so -suddenly upon us.” -

-“My dear madam,” said I, “I am an old campaigner, and if I were -not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of -any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be -indeed happy.” -

-“Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said the lady as we entered a -well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had -been laid out, “I should very much like to ask you one or two -plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain -answer.” -

-“Certainly, madam.” -

-“Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given -to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.” -

-“Upon what point?” -

-“In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?” -

-Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. -“Frankly, now!” she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking -keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. -

-“Frankly, then, madam, I do not.” -

-“You think that he is dead?” -

-“I do.” -

-“Murdered?” -

-“I don’t say that. Perhaps.” -

-“And on what day did he meet his death?” -

-“On Monday.” -

-“Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how -it is that I have received a letter from him to-day.” -

-Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been -galvanised. -

-“What!” he roared. -

-“Yes, to-day.” She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of -paper in the air. -

-“May I see it?” -

-“Certainly.” -

-He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out -upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I -had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The -envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend -postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day -before, for it was considerably after midnight. -

-“Coarse writing,” murmured Holmes. “Surely this is not your -husband’s writing, madam.” -

-“No, but the enclosure is.” -

-“I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go -and inquire as to the address.” -

-“How can you tell that?” -

-“The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried -itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that -blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight -off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This -man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before -he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not -familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is -nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! -there has been an enclosure here!” -

-“Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring.” -

-“And you are sure that this is your husband’s hand?” -

-“One of his hands.” -

-“One?” -

-“His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual -writing, and yet I know it well.” -

-“ ‘Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a -huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. -Wait in patience.—NEVILLE.’ Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf -of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in -Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been -gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been -chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband’s -hand, madam?” -

-“None. Neville wrote those words.” -

-“And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, -the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the -danger is over.” -

-“But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes.” -

-“Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. -The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from -him.” -

-“No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!” -

-“Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only -posted to-day.” -

-“That is possible.” -

-“If so, much may have happened between.” -

-“Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is -well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I -should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him -last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room -rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that -something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such -a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?” -

-“I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman -may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical -reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong -piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband -is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away -from you?” -

-“I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.” -

-“And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?” -

-“No.” -

-“And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?” -

-“Very much so.” -

-“Was the window open?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“Then he might have called to you?” -

-“He might.” -

-“He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“A call for help, you thought?” -

-“Yes. He waved his hands.” -

-“But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the -unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?” -

-“It is possible.” -

-“And you thought he was pulled back?” -

-“He disappeared so suddenly.” -

-“He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the -room?” -

-“No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and -the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs.” -

-“Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his -ordinary clothes on?” -

-“But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare -throat.” -

-“Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?” -

-“Never.” -

-“Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?” -

-“Never.” -

-“Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about -which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little -supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy day -to-morrow.” -

-A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our -disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary -after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, -who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for -days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, -rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view -until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his -data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now -preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and -waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered -about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from -the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of -Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with -an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front -of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an -old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the -corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, -silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set -aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he -sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found -the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still -between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the room was -full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of -shag which I had seen upon the previous night. -

-“Awake, Watson?” he asked. -

-“Yes.” -

-“Game for a morning drive?” -

-“Certainly.” -

-“Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the -stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out.” He -chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed -a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night. -

-As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one -was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly -finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was -putting in the horse. -

-“I want to test a little theory of mine,” said he, pulling on his -boots. “I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the -presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve -to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the -key of the affair now.” -

-“And where is it?” I asked, smiling. -

-“In the bathroom,” he answered. “Oh, yes, I am not joking,” he -continued, seeing my look of incredulity. “I have just been -there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this -Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will -not fit the lock.” -

-We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into -the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and -trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both -sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country -carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but -the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as -some city in a dream. -

-“It has been in some points a singular case,” said Holmes, -flicking the horse on into a gallop. “I confess that I have been -as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than -never to learn it at all.” -

-In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily -from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey -side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the -river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the -right and found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well -known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted -him. One of them held the horse’s head while the other led us in. -

-“Who is on duty?” asked Holmes. -

-“Inspector Bradstreet, sir.” -

-“Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?” A tall, stout official had come -down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged -jacket. “I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet.” -“Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here.” It was a small, -office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a -telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his -desk. -

-“What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?” -

-“I called about that beggarman, Boone—the one who was charged -with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. -Clair, of Lee.” -

-“Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries.” -

-“So I heard. You have him here?” -

-“In the cells.” -

-“Is he quiet?” -

-“Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel.” -

-“Dirty?” -

-“Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his -face is as black as a tinker’s. Well, when once his case has been -settled, he will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you -saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it.” -

-“I should like to see him very much.” -

-“Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave -your bag.” -

-“No, I think that I’ll take it.” -

-“Very good. Come this way, if you please.” He led us down a -passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and -brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each -side. -

-“The third on the right is his,” said the inspector. “Here it -is!” He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door -and glanced through. -

-“He is asleep,” said he. “You can see him very well.” -

-We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his -face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and -heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his -calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his -tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely -dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its -repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right -across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up -one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a -perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over -his eyes and forehead. -

-“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” said the inspector. -

-“He certainly needs a wash,” remarked Holmes. “I had an idea that -he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.” -He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my -astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. -

-“He! he! You are a funny one,” chuckled the inspector. -

-“Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very -quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable -figure.” -

-“Well, I don’t know why not,” said the inspector. “He doesn’t -look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?” He slipped his -key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The -sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep -slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, -and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the -prisoner’s face. -

-“Let me introduce you,” he shouted, “to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of -Lee, in the county of Kent.” -

-Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man’s face peeled -off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the -coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had -seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the -repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled -red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, -sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, -rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. -Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and -threw himself down with his face to the pillow. -

-“Great heavens!” cried the inspector, “it is, indeed, the missing -man. I know him from the photograph.” -

-The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons -himself to his destiny. “Be it so,” said he. “And pray what am I -charged with?” -

-“With making away with Mr. Neville St.— Oh, come, you can’t be -charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of -it,” said the inspector with a grin. “Well, I have been -twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake.” -

-“If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime -has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally -detained.” -

-“No crime, but a very great error has been committed,” said -Holmes. “You would have done better to have trusted your wife.” -

-“It was not the wife; it was the children,” groaned the prisoner. -“God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My -God! What an exposure! What can I do?” -

-Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him -kindly on the shoulder. -

-“If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up,” said -he, “of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, -if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible -case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the -details should find their way into the papers. Inspector -Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you -might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case -would then never go into court at all.” -

-“God bless you!” cried the prisoner passionately. “I would have -endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left -my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. -

-“You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a -schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent -education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and -finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day -my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the -metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point -from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying -begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to -base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the -secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for -my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my -face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good -scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a -small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of -hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business -part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a -beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned -home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no -less than 26s. 4d. -

-“I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, -some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ -served upon me for £25. I was at my wit’s end where to get -the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight’s -grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, -and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In -ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. -

-“Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous -work at £2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in -a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on -the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my -pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up -reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first -chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets -with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a -low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could -every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings -transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, -a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that -my secret was safe in his possession. -

-“Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of -money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London -could earn £700 a year—which is less than my average -takings—but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making -up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by -practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. -All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, -and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take £2. -

-“As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the -country, and eventually married, without anyone having a -suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had -business in the City. She little knew what. -

-“Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my -room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, -to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the -street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of -surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my -confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from -coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that -she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on -those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife’s -eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it -occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that -the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening -by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in -the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was -weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from -the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of -the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes -would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of -constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, -I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. -Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. -

-“I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I -was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and -hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would -be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the -Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together -with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to -fear.” -

-“That note only reached her yesterday,” said Holmes. -

-“Good God! What a week she must have spent!” -

-“The police have watched this Lascar,” said Inspector Bradstreet, -“and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to -post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor -customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days.” -

-“That was it,” said Holmes, nodding approvingly; “I have no doubt -of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?” -

-“Many times; but what was a fine to me?” -

-“It must stop here, however,” said Bradstreet. “If the police are -to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone.” -

-“I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.” -

-“In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps -may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. -I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for -having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your -results.” -

-“I reached this one,” said my friend, “by sitting upon five -pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if -we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast.” - - -

-
-
-

VII. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

-

I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second -morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the -compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a -purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the -right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly -studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and -on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable -hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several -places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair -suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the -purpose of examination. -

-“You are engaged,” said I; “perhaps I interrupt you.” -

-“Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss -my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one”—he jerked his -thumb in the direction of the old hat—“but there are points in -connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and -even of instruction.” -

-I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his -crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows -were thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I remarked, “that, -homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to -it—that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of -some mystery and the punishment of some crime.” -

-“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of -those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have -four million human beings all jostling each other within the -space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so -dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events -may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be -presented which may be striking and bizarre without being -criminal. We have already had experience of such.” -

-“So much so,” I remarked, “that of the last six cases which I -have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any -legal crime.” -

-“Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler -papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the -adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt -that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. -You know Peterson, the commissionaire?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“It is to him that this trophy belongs.” -

-“It is his hat.” -

-“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will -look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual -problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon -Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I -have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s -fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas -morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was -returning from some small jollification and was making his way -homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in -the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and -carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the -corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger -and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the -man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, -swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. -Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his -assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and -seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, -dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the -labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham -Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of -Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of -battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this -battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.” -

-“Which surely he restored to their owner?” -

-“My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For -Mrs. Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to -the bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. -B.’ are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are -some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in -this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any -one of them.” -

-“What, then, did Peterson do?” -

-“He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, -knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. -The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs -that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it -should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried -it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, -while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who -lost his Christmas dinner.” -

-“Did he not advertise?” -

-“No.” -

-“Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?” -

-“Only as much as we can deduce.” -

-“From his hat?” -

-“Precisely.” -

-“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered -felt?” -

-“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather -yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this -article?” -

-I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather -ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round -shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of -red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s -name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were -scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a -hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was -cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, -although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the -discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. -

-“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend. -

-“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, -however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in -drawing your inferences.” -

-“Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?” -

-He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective -fashion which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less -suggestive than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there -are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others -which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That -the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the -face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the -last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He -had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a -moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his -fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, -at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that -his wife has ceased to love him.” -

-“My dear Holmes!” -

-“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he -continued, disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a -sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is -middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the -last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are -the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, -by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid -on in his house.” -

-“You are certainly joking, Holmes.” -

-“Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you -these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?” -

-“I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I -am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that -this man was intellectual?” -

-For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right -over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is -a question of cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a -brain must have something in it.” -

-“The decline of his fortunes, then?” -

-“This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge -came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the -band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could -afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no -hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world.” -

-“Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the -foresight and the moral retrogression?” -

-Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting -his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. -“They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a -sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his -way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see -that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace -it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, -which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other -hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the -felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not -entirely lost his self-respect.” -

-“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.” -

-“The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is -grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses -lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the -lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of -hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all -appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of -lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey -dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, -showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while -the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the -wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in -the best of training.” -

-“But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.” -

-“This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear -Watson, with a week’s accumulation of dust upon your hat, and -when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear -that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s -affection.” -

-“But he might be a bachelor.” -

-“Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his -wife. Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.” -

-“You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce -that the gas is not laid on in his house?” -

-“One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I -see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt -that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with -burning tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in -one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never -got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?” -

-“Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as -you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm -done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a -waste of energy.” -

-Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew -open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment -with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with -astonishment. -

-“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped. -

-“Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off -through the kitchen window?” Holmes twisted himself round upon -the sofa to get a fairer view of the man’s excited face. -

-“See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!” He held out -his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly -scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but -of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric -point in the dark hollow of his hand. -

-Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said -he, “this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you -have got?” -

-“A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though -it were putty.” -

-“It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.” -

-“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I ejaculated. -

-“Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I -have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day -lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be -conjectured, but the reward offered of £1000 is certainly -not within a twentieth part of the market price.” -

-“A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire -plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. -

-“That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are -sentimental considerations in the background which would induce -the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but -recover the gem.” -

-“It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I -remarked. -

-“Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, -a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady’s -jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case -has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the -matter here, I believe.” He rummaged amid his newspapers, -glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, -doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: -

-“Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was -brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., -abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the -valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, -upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect -that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess -of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might -solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had -remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been -called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, -that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco -casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was -accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the -dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was -arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found -either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to -the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on -discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, -where she found matters as described by the last witness. -Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest -of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence -in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for -robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate -refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to -the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion -during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was -carried out of court.” -

-“Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, -tossing aside the paper. “The question for us now to solve is the -sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to -the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You -see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much -more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the -stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry -Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other -characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set -ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and -ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To -do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie -undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If -this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods.” -

-“What will you say?” -

-“Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: ‘Found at -the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. -Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at -221B, Baker Street.’ That is clear and concise.” -

-“Very. But will he see it?” -

-“Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor -man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his -mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson -that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must -have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his -bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to -see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to -it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency -and have this put in the evening papers.” -

-“In which, sir?” -

-“Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James’s, Evening News, -Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you.” -

-“Very well, sir. And this stone?” -

-“Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, -Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here -with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place -of the one which your family is now devouring.” -

-When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and -held it against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just -see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and -focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet -baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a -bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found -in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable -in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is -blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has -already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a -vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about -for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. -Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the -gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and -drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it.” -

-“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?” -

-“I cannot tell.” -

-“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had -anything to do with the matter?” -

-“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an -absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he -was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made -of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple -test if we have an answer to our advertisement.” -

-“And you can do nothing until then?” -

-“Nothing.” -

-“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall -come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I -should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.” -

-“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I -believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I -ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.” -

-I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past -six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I -approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a -coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the -bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I -arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to -Holmes’ room. -

-“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair -and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he -could so readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. -Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is -more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have -just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?” -

-“Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.” -

-He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a -broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of -grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight -tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes’ surmise as to his -habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in -front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded -from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a -slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the -impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had -ill-usage at the hands of fortune. -

-“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, -“because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your -address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise.” -

-Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. “Shillings have not -been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he remarked. “I had -no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off -both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a -hopeless attempt at recovering them.” -

-“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to -eat it.” -

-“To eat it!” Our visitor half rose from his chair in his -excitement. -

-“Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. -But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is -about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your -purpose equally well?” -

-“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of -relief. -

-“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of -your own bird, so if you wish—” -

-The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as -relics of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly -see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are -going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I -will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive -upon the sideboard.” -

-Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug -of his shoulders. -

-“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the -way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one -from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a -better grown goose.” -

-“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly -gained property under his arm. “There are a few of us who -frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in -the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our -good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, -on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to -receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the -rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a -Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” With -a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and -strode off upon his way. -

-“So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the -door behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing -whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?” -

-“Not particularly.” -

-“Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow -up this clue while it is still hot.” -

-“By all means.” -

-It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped -cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly -in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out -into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out -crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors’ quarter, -Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into -Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at -the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one -of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open -the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from -the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. -

-“Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” -said he. -

-“My geese!” The man seemed surprised. -

-“Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, -who was a member of your goose club.” -

-“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them’s not our geese.” -

-“Indeed! Whose, then?” -

-“Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.” -

-“Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?” -

-“Breckinridge is his name.” -

-“Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, -and prosperity to your house. Good-night.” -

-“Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat -as we came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though -we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we -have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal -servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible -that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we -have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, -and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us -follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and -quick march!” -

-We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a -zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest -stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor -a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was -helping a boy to put up the shutters. -

-“Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes. -

-The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my -companion. -

-“Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the -bare slabs of marble. -

-“Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.” -

-“That’s no good.” -

-“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.” -

-“Ah, but I was recommended to you.” -

-“Who by?” -

-“The landlord of the Alpha.” -

-“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.” -

-“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?” -

-To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the -salesman. -

-“Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head cocked and his arms -akimbo, “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.” -

-“It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the -geese which you supplied to the Alpha.” -

-“Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!” -

-“Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you -should be so warm over such a trifle.” -

-“Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. -When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end -of the business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you -sell the geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One -would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the -fuss that is made over them.” -

-“Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been -making inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us -the bet is off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my -opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the -bird I ate is country bred.” -

-“Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped -the salesman. -

-“It’s nothing of the kind.” -

-“I say it is.” -

-“I don’t believe it.” -

-“D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled -them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that -went to the Alpha were town bred.” -

-“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.” -

-“Will you bet, then?” -

-“It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But -I’ll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be -obstinate.” -

-The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said -he. -

-The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great -greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging -lamp. -

-“Now then, Mr. Cocksure,” said the salesman, “I thought that I -was out of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is -still one left in my shop. You see this little book?” -

-“Well?” -

-“That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, -then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers -after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. -Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a -list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just -read it out to me.” -

-“Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road—249,” read Holmes. -

-“Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.” -

-Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. -Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ” -

-“Now, then, what’s the last entry?” -

-“ ‘December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ” -

-“Quite so. There you are. And underneath?” -

-“ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ” -

-“What have you to say now?” -

-Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from -his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the -air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off -he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless -fashion which was peculiar to him. -

-“When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ’un’ -protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” -said he. “I daresay that if I had put £100 down in front of -him, that man would not have given me such complete information -as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a -wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our -quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is -whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or -whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what -that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves -who are anxious about the matter, and I should—” -

-His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke -out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a -little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of -yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while -Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was -shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. -

-“I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you -were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more -with your silly talk I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. -Oakshott here and I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with -it? Did I buy the geese off you?” -

-“No; but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the little -man. -

-“Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.” -

-“She told me to ask you.” -

-“Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I’ve had -enough of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and -the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. -

-“Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. -“Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this -fellow.” Striding through the scattered knots of people who -lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook -the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang -round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of -colour had been driven from his face. -

-“Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering -voice. -

-“You will excuse me,” said Holmes blandly, “but I could not help -overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. -I think that I could be of assistance to you.” -

-“You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?” -

-“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other -people don’t know.” -

-“But you can know nothing of this?” -

-“Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to -trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton -Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. -Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. -Henry Baker is a member.” -

-“Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,” cried -the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. -“I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.” -

-Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that -case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this -wind-swept market-place,” said he. “But pray tell me, before we -go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.” -

-The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson,” he -answered with a sidelong glance. -

-“No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always -awkward doing business with an alias.” -

-A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” -said he, “my real name is James Ryder.” -

-“Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray -step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you -everything which you would wish to know.” -

-The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with -half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure -whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. -Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in -the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during -our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and -the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous -tension within him. -

-“Here we are!” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. -“The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, -Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my -slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! -You want to know what became of those geese?” -

-“Yes, sir.” -

-“Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in -which you were interested—white, with a black bar across the -tail.” -

-Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell -me where it went to?” -

-“It came here.” -

-“Here?” -

-“Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder that -you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was -dead—the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. -I have it here in my museum.” -

-Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece -with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up -the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, -brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a -drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. -

-“The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or -you’ll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, -Watson. He’s not got blood enough to go in for felony with -impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little -more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!” -

-For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy -brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring -with frightened eyes at his accuser. -

-“I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I -could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. -Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case -complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the -Countess of Morcar’s?” -

-“It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a -crackling voice. -

-“I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of -sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has -been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous -in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the -making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man -Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter -before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. -What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady’s -room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed that he -should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled -the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man -arrested. You then—” -

-Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my -companion’s knees. “For God’s sake, have mercy!” he shrieked. -“Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I -never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll -swear it on a Bible. Oh, don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s -sake, don’t!” -

-“Get back into your chair!” said Holmes sternly. “It is very well -to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this -poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.” -

-“I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the -charge against him will break down.” -

-“Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account -of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came -the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies -your only hope of safety.” -

-Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. “I will tell you -it just as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been -arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get -away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment -the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my -room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. -I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister’s -house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton -Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there -every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; -and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down -my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me -what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I -had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went -into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would -be best to do. -

-“I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and -has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met -me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they -could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to -me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind -to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my -confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. -But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had -gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be -seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat -pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at -the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly -an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the -best detective that ever lived. -

-“My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the -pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she -was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in -it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in -the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds—a fine big -one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill -open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger -could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass -along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped -and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the -matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and -fluttered off among the others. -

-“ ‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she. -

-“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I -was feeling which was the fattest.’ -

-“ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you—Jem’s bird, we -call it. It’s the big white one over yonder. There’s twenty-six -of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen -for the market.’ -

-“ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, -I’d rather have that one I was handling just now.’ -

-“ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we -fattened it expressly for you.’ -

-“ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I. -

-“ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed. ‘Which is it -you want, then?’ -

-“ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the -flock.’ -

-“ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’ -

-“Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird -all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was -a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed -until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My -heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I -knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, -rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into the back yard. There -was not a bird to be seen there. -

-“ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried. -

-“ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’ -

-“ ‘Which dealer’s?’ -

-“ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’ -

-“ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same -as the one I chose?’ -

-“ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never -tell them apart.’ -

-“Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my -feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the -lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they -had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always -answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. -Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now—and now I am myself -a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which -I sold my character. God help me! God help me!” He burst into -convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. -

-There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and -by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’ finger-tips upon the -edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. -

-“Get out!” said he. -

-“What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!” -

-“No more words. Get out!” -

-And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon -the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running -footfalls from the street. -

-“After all, Watson,” said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his -clay pipe, “I am not retained by the police to supply their -deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; -but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must -collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just -possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong -again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and -you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of -forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and -whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you -will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin -another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief -feature.” - - -

-
-
-

VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band

-

On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I -have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend -Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number -merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did -rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of -wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation -which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. -Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which -presented more singular features than that which was associated -with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. -The events in question occurred in the early days of my -association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors -in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them -upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the -time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by -the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It -is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I -have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the -death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even -more terrible than the truth. -

-It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to -find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my -bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the -mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I -blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little -resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits. -

-“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the -common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she -retorted upon me, and I on you.” -

-“What is it, then—a fire?” -

-“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a -considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She -is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander -about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock -sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is -something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it -prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to -follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should -call you and give you the chance.” -

-“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.” -

-I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his -professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid -deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a -logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were -submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in -a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A -lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in -the window, rose as we entered. -

-“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock -Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, -before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am -glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the -fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot -coffee, for I observe that you are shivering.” -

-“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low -voice, changing her seat as requested. -

-“What, then?” -

-“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as -she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable -state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless -frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features -and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot -with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. -Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, -all-comprehensive glances. -

-“You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and -patting her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no -doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see.” -

-“You know me, then?” -

-“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm -of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had -a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached -the station.” -

-The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my -companion. -

-“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left -arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven -places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a -dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you -sit on the left-hand side of the driver.” -

-“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said -she. “I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at -twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I -can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. -I have no one to turn to—none, save only one, who cares for me, -and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, -Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you -helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had -your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, -too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness -which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward -you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be -married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you -shall not find me ungrateful.” -

-Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small -case-book, which he consulted. -

-“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was -concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, -Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote -the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to -reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty -to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which -suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us -everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the -matter.” -

-“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation -lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions -depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to -another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to -look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it -as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can -read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have -heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold -wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid -the dangers which encompass me.” -

-“I am all attention, madam.” -

-“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who -is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in -England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of -Surrey.” -

-Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he. -

-“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the -estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, -and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four -successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, -and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the -days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, -and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under -a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence -there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but -his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to -the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which -enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, -where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he -established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused -by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he -beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital -sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and -afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. -

-“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, -the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. -My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old -at the time of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable -sum of money—not less than £1000 a year—and this she -bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, -with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to -each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return -to England my mother died—she was killed eight years ago in a -railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his -attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us -to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The -money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and -there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. -

-“But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. -Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our -neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of -Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in -his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious -quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper -approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the -family, and in my stepfather’s case it had, I believe, been -intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of -disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the -police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, -and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of -immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. -

-“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a -stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I -could gather together that I was able to avert another public -exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, -and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few -acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, -and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, -wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a -passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a -correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, -which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the -villagers almost as much as their master. -

-“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I -had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with -us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was -but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already -begun to whiten, even as mine has.” -

-“Your sister is dead, then?” -

-“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish -to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I -have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own -age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden -sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we -were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady’s -house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there -a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My -stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and -offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of -the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event -occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.” -

-Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes -closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his -lids now and glanced across at his visitor. -

-“Pray be precise as to details,” said he. -

-“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful -time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have -already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The -bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms -being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms -the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second my sister’s, and the third -my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open -out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?” -

-“Perfectly so.” -

-“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That -fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we -knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled -by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom -to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where -she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At -eleven o’clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door -and looked back. -

-“ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle -in the dead of the night?’ -

-“ ‘Never,’ said I. -

-“ ‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in -your sleep?’ -

-“ ‘Certainly not. But why?’ -

-“ ‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three -in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, -and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps -from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would -just ask you whether you had heard it.’ -

-“ ‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the -plantation.’ -

-“ ‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you -did not hear it also.’ -

-“ ‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’ -

-“ ‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled -back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her -key turn in the lock.” -

-“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock -yourselves in at night?” -

-“Always.” -

-“And why?” -

-“I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah -and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were -locked.” -

-“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.” -

-“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending -misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, -were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two -souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind -was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing -against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, -there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew -that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a -shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door -I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and -a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had -fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, -and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it -horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By -the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the -opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for -help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a -drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that -moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. -She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were -dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not -recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out -in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was -the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else which she -would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the -air in the direction of the doctor’s room, but a fresh convulsion -seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for -my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his -dressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was -unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent -for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for -she slowly sank and died without having recovered her -consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister.” -

-“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and -metallic sound? Could you swear to it?” -

-“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is -my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of -the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have -been deceived.” -

-“Was your sister dressed?” -

-“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the -charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.” -

-“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when -the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did -the coroner come to?” -

-“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s -conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable -to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that -the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows -were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, -which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, -and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was -also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is -wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, -therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. -Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.” -

-“How about poison?” -

-“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.” -

-“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?” -

-“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, -though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.” -

-“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?” -

-“Yes, there are nearly always some there.” -

-“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a -speckled band?” -

-“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of -delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of -people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not -know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear -over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which -she used.” -

-Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied. -

-“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your -narrative.” -

-“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until -lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, -whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask -my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the -second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My -stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to -be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs -were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom -wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the -chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in -which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last -night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I -suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which -had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the -lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to -go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was -daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which -is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on -this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your -advice.” -

-“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me -all?” -

-“Yes, all.” -

-“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.” -

-“Why, what do you mean?” -

-For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which -fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little -livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed -upon the white wrist. -

-“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes. -

-The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He -is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own -strength.” -

-There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin -upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire. -

-“This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a -thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide -upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If -we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for -us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your -stepfather?” -

-“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some -most important business. It is probable that he will be away all -day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a -housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily -get her out of the way.” -

-“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?” -

-“By no means.” -

-“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?” -

-“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am -in town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to -be there in time for your coming.” -

-“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some -small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and -breakfast?” -

-“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have -confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you -again this afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her -face and glided from the room. -

-“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, -leaning back in his chair. -

-“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.” -

-“Dark enough and sinister enough.” -

-“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls -are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, -then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her -mysterious end.” -

-“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the -very peculiar words of the dying woman?” -

-“I cannot think.” -

-“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of -a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, -the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has -an interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying -allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner -heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of -those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its -place, I think that there is good ground to think that the -mystery may be cleared along those lines.” -

-“But what, then, did the gipsies do?” -

-“I cannot imagine.” -

-“I see many objections to any such theory.” -

-“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going -to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are -fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of -the devil!” -

-The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that -our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had -framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar -mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a -black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, -with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his -hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his -breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, -seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and -marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other -of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, -fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old -bird of prey. -

-“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition. -

-“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my -companion quietly. -

-“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.” -

-“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.” -

-“I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I -have traced her. What has she been saying to you?” -

-“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes. -

-“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man -furiously. -

-“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my -companion imperturbably. -

-“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step -forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! -I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.” -

-My friend smiled. -

-“Holmes, the busybody!” -

-His smile broadened. -

-“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!” -

-Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most -entertaining,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for -there is a decided draught.” -

-“I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with -my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! -I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped -swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with -his huge brown hands. -

-“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and -hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the -room. -

-“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am -not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him -that my grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke -he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, -straightened it out again. -

-“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official -detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, -however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer -from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, -Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk -down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to get some data which may -help us in this matter.” -

-

-It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his -excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled -over with notes and figures. -

-“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To -determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the -present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The -total income, which at the time of the wife’s death was little -short of £1100, is now, through the fall in agricultural -prices, not more than £750. Each daughter can claim an -income of £250, in case of marriage. It is evident, -therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have -had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to -a very serious extent. My morning’s work has not been wasted, -since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for -standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, -this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is -aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you -are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be -very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your -pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen -who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush -are, I think, all that we need.” -

-At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for -Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove -for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a -perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the -heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out -their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant -smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange -contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this -sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in -the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over -his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the -deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the -shoulder, and pointed over the meadows. -

-“Look there!” said he. -

-A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, -thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the -branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a -very old mansion. -

-“Stoke Moran?” said he. -

-“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked -the driver. -

-“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is -where we are going.” -

-“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of -roofs some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the -house, you’ll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by -the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is -walking.” -

-“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading -his eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.” -

-We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way -to Leatherhead. -

-“I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, -“that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or -on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. -Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as -our word.” -

-Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a -face which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for -you,” she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned -out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely -that he will be back before evening.” -

-“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,” -said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had -occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. -

-“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.” -

-“So it appears.” -

-“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What -will he say when he returns?” -

-“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone -more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself -up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to -your aunt’s at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our -time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to -examine.” -

-The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high -central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, -thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were -broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly -caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little -better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, -and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up -from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. -Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the -stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any -workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and -down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the -outsides of the windows. -

-“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, -the centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main -building to Dr. Roylott’s chamber?” -

-“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.” -

-“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does -not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end -wall.” -

-“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from -my room.” -

-“Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow -wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There -are windows in it, of course?” -

-“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass -through.” -

-“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were -unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness -to go into your room and bar your shutters?” -

-Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination -through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the -shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through -which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his -lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built -firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” said he, scratching his -chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly presents some -difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were -bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon -the matter.” -

-A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which -the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third -chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss -Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her -fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a -gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A -brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow -white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the -left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small -wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save -for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and -the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old -and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building -of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat -silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, -taking in every detail of the apartment. -

-“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last -pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the -tassel actually lying upon the pillow. -

-“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.” -

-“It looks newer than the other things?” -

-“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.” -

-“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?” -

-“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we -wanted for ourselves.” -

-“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. -You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to -this floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in -his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining -minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with -the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he -walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and -in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the -bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug. -

-“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he. -

-“Won’t it ring?” -

-“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. -You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where -the little opening for the ventilator is.” -

-“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.” -

-“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are -one or two very singular points about this room. For example, -what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another -room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated -with the outside air!” -

-“That is also quite modern,” said the lady. -

-“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes. -

-“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that -time.” -

-“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy -bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your -permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into -the inner apartment.” -

-Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his -step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small -wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an -armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a -round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things -which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each -and all of them with the keenest interest. -

-“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe. -

-“My stepfather’s business papers.” -

-“Oh! you have seen inside, then?” -

-“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of -papers.” -

-“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?” -

-“No. What a strange idea!” -

-“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which -stood on the top of it. -

-“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.” -

-“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a -saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I -daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He -squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat -of it with the greatest attention. -

-“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting -his lens in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!” -

-The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on -one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself -and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord. -

-“What do you make of that, Watson?” -

-“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be -tied.” -

-“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world, -and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst -of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and -with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn.” -

-I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as -it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We -had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss -Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he -roused himself from his reverie. -

-“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should -absolutely follow my advice in every respect.” -

-“I shall most certainly do so.” -

-“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may -depend upon your compliance.” -

-“I assure you that I am in your hands.” -

-“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in -your room.” -

-Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment. -

-“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the -village inn over there?” -

-“Yes, that is the Crown.” -

-“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?” -

-“Certainly.” -

-“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a -headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him -retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, -undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then -withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want -into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in -spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night.” -

-“Oh, yes, easily.” -

-“The rest you will leave in our hands.” -

-“But what will you do?” -

-“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate -the cause of this noise which has disturbed you.” -

-“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” -said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve. -

-“Perhaps I have.” -

-“Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s -death.” -

-“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.” -

-“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and -if she died from some sudden fright.” -

-“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more -tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if -Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. -Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, -you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers -that threaten you.” -

-Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and -sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and -from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and -of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw -Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside -the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some -slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard -the hoarse roar of the doctor’s voice and saw the fury with which -he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few -minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as -the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. -

-“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the -gathering darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you -to-night. There is a distinct element of danger.” -

-“Can I be of assistance?” -

-“Your presence might be invaluable.” -

-“Then I shall certainly come.” -

-“It is very kind of you.” -

-“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms -than was visible to me.” -

-“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine -that you saw all that I did.” -

-“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose -that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.” -

-“You saw the ventilator, too?” -

-“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to -have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a -rat could hardly pass through.” -

-“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to -Stoke Moran.” -

-“My dear Holmes!” -

-“Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her -sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that -suggested at once that there must be a communication between the -two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been -remarked upon at the coroner’s inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.” -

-“But what harm can there be in that?” -

-“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A -ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the -bed dies. Does not that strike you?” -

-“I cannot as yet see any connection.” -

-“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?” -

-“No.” -

-“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened -like that before?” -

-“I cannot say that I have.” -

-“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same -relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may -call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.” -

-“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. -We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible -crime.” -

-“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong -he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. -Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. -This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall -be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough -before the night is over; for goodness’ sake let us have a quiet -pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more -cheerful.” -

-

-About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, -and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours -passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of -eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us. -

-“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it -comes from the middle window.” -

-As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, -explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, -and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A -moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing -in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us -through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand. -

-There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for -unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way -among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about -to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel -bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted -child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and -then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness. -

-“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?” -

-Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like -a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low -laugh and put his lips to my ear. -

-“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.” -

-I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There -was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders -at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, -after following Holmes’ example and slipping off my shoes, I -found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed -the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes -round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then -creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered -into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to -distinguish the words: -

-“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.” -

-I nodded to show that I had heard. -

-“We must sit without light. He would see it through the -ventilator.” -

-I nodded again. -

-“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your -pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of -the bed, and you in that chair.” -

-I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. -

-Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon -the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the -stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left -in darkness. -

-How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a -sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my -companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same -state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut -off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness. -

-From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at -our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that -the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the -deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of -an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and -one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for -whatever might befall. -

-Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the -direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was -succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. -Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle -sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the -smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. -Then suddenly another sound became audible—a very gentle, -soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping -continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes -sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with -his cane at the bell-pull. -

-“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?” -

-But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I -heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my -weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which -my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face -was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had -ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when -suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most -horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder -and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled -in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the -village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the -sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I -stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it -had died away into the silence from which it rose. -

-“What can it mean?” I gasped. -

-“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, -after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will -enter Dr. Roylott’s room.” -

-With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the -corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply -from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his -heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand. -

-It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a -dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant -beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. -Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott -clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding -beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. -Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we -had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his -eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the -ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with -brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his -head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. -

-“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes. -

-I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began -to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat -diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. -

-“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in -India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence -does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls -into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this -creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to -some place of shelter and let the county police know what has -happened.” -

-As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, -and throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from -its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into -the iron safe, which he closed upon it. -

-Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of -Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a -narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling -how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed -her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, -of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the -conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly -playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn -of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back -next day. -

-“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which -shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from -insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of -the word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to -explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of -by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an -entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly -reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me -that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not -come either from the window or the door. My attention was -speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this -ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The -discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to -the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was -there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and -coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, -and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was -furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I -was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of -poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical -test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless -man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such -a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be -an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could -distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where -the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the -whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning -light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by -the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. -He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he -thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the -rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the -occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but -sooner or later she must fall a victim. -

-“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his -room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in -the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary -in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the -safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to -finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic -clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather -hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. -Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in -order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss -as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the -light and attacked it.” -

-“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.” -

-“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master -at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and -roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person -it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. -Grimesby Roylott’s death, and I cannot say that it is likely to -weigh very heavily upon my conscience.” - - -

-
-
-

IX. The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb

-

Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. -Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, -there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his -notice—that of Mr. Hatherley’s thumb, and that of Colonel -Warburton’s madness. Of these the latter may have afforded a -finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was -so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that -it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it -gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of -reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The story -has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, -like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when -set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the -facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears -gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads -on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a -deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly -served to weaken the effect. -

-It was in the summer of ’89, not long after my marriage, that the -events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned -to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker -Street rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally -even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come -and visit us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I -happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington -Station, I got a few patients from among the officials. One of -these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was -never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send -me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence. -

-One morning, at a little before seven o’clock, I was awakened by -the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come -from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I -dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases -were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my -old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door -tightly behind him. -

-“I’ve got him here,” he whispered, jerking his thumb over his -shoulder; “he’s all right.” -

-“What is it, then?” I asked, for his manner suggested that it was -some strange creature which he had caged up in my room. -

-“It’s a new patient,” he whispered. “I thought I’d bring him -round myself; then he couldn’t slip away. There he is, all safe -and sound. I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the -same as you.” And off he went, this trusty tout, without even -giving me time to thank him. -

-I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the -table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a -soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of -his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all -over with bloodstains. He was young, not more than -five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, masculine face; but -he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who -was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his -strength of mind to control. -

-“I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor,” said he, “but I -have had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by -train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I -might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me -here. I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon -the side-table.” -

-I took it up and glanced at it. “Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic -engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the name, -style, and abode of my morning visitor. “I regret that I have -kept you waiting,” said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You -are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself -a monotonous occupation.” -

-“Oh, my night could not be called monotonous,” said he, and -laughed. He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, -leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical -instincts rose up against that laugh. -

-“Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out -some water from a caraffe. -

-It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical -outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis -is over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very -weary and pale-looking. -

-“I have been making a fool of myself,” he gasped. -

-“Not at all. Drink this.” I dashed some brandy into the water, -and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. -

-“That’s better!” said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would -kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb -used to be.” -

-He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even -my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four -protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the -thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right out from -the roots. -

-“Good heavens!” I cried, “this is a terrible injury. It must have -bled considerably.” -

-“Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must -have been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that -it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very -tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig.” -

-“Excellent! You should have been a surgeon.” -

-“It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own -province.” -

-“This has been done,” said I, examining the wound, “by a very -heavy and sharp instrument.” -

-“A thing like a cleaver,” said he. -

-“An accident, I presume?” -

-“By no means.” -

-“What! a murderous attack?” -

-“Very murderous indeed.” -

-“You horrify me.” -

-I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered -it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back -without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. -

-“How is that?” I asked when I had finished. -

-“Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. -I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.” -

-“Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently -trying to your nerves.” -

-“Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; -but, between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing -evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if they -believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I -have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, -even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so -vague that it is a question whether justice will be done.” -

-“Ha!” cried I, “if it is anything in the nature of a problem -which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you -to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the -official police.” -

-“Oh, I have heard of that fellow,” answered my visitor, “and I -should be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of -course I must use the official police as well. Would you give me -an introduction to him?” -

-“I’ll do better. I’ll take you round to him myself.” -

-“I should be immensely obliged to you.” -

-“We’ll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to -have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?” -

-“Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story.” -

-“Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an -instant.” I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my -wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my -new acquaintance to Baker Street. -

-Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his -sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The -Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed -of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day -before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the -mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion, -ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal. -When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the -sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of -brandy and water within his reach. -

-“It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, -Mr. Hatherley,” said he. “Pray, lie down there and make yourself -absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are -tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant.” -

-“Thank you,” said my patient, “but I have felt another man since -the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has -completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable -time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my peculiar -experiences.” -

-Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded -expression which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat -opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story -which our visitor detailed to us. -

-“You must know,” said he, “that I am an orphan and a bachelor, -residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a -hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my -work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & -Matheson, the well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, -having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of -money through my poor father’s death, I determined to start in -business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria -Street. -

-“I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in -business a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. -During two years I have had three consultations and one small -job, and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought -me. My gross takings amount to £27 10s. Every day, from -nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my -little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to -believe that I should never have any practice at all. -

-“Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the -office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who -wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with -the name of ‘Colonel Lysander Stark’ engraved upon it. Close at -his heels came the colonel himself, a man rather over the middle -size, but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have -ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose -and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over -his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his -natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his -step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly -dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than -thirty. -

-“ ‘Mr. Hatherley?’ said he, with something of a German accent. -‘You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man -who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet -and capable of preserving a secret.’ -

-“I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an -address. ‘May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?’ -

-“ ‘Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just -at this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both -an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.’ -

-“ ‘That is quite correct,’ I answered; ‘but you will excuse me if -I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional -qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter -that you wished to speak to me?’ -

-“ ‘Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to -the point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute -secrecy is quite essential—absolute secrecy, you understand, and -of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than -from one who lives in the bosom of his family.’ -

-“ ‘If I promise to keep a secret,’ said I, ‘you may absolutely -depend upon my doing so.’ -

-“He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I -had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. -

-“ ‘Do you promise, then?’ said he at last. -

-“ ‘Yes, I promise.’ -

-“ ‘Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No -reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?’ -

-“ ‘I have already given you my word.’ -

-“ ‘Very good.’ He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning -across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was -empty. -

-“ ‘That’s all right,’ said he, coming back. ‘I know that clerks are -sometimes curious as to their master’s affairs. Now we can talk -in safety.’ He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to -stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. -

-“A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun -to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. -Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from -showing my impatience. -

-“ ‘I beg that you will state your business, sir,’ said I; ‘my time -is of value.’ Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the -words came to my lips. -

-“ ‘How would fifty guineas for a night’s work suit you?’ he asked. -

-“ ‘Most admirably.’ -

-“ ‘I say a night’s work, but an hour’s would be nearer the mark. I -simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which -has got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon -set it right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as -that?’ -

-“ ‘The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.’ -

-“ ‘Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last -train.’ -

-“ ‘Where to?’ -

-“ ‘To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders -of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a -train from Paddington which would bring you there at about -11:15.’ -

-“ ‘Very good.’ -

-“ ‘I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.’ -

-“ ‘There is a drive, then?’ -

-“ ‘Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good -seven miles from Eyford Station.’ -

-“ ‘Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there -would be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop -the night.’ -

-“ ‘Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.’ -

-“ ‘That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient -hour?’ -

-“ ‘We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to -recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a -young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the -very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would -like to draw out of the business, there is plenty of time to do -so.’ -

-“I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they -would be to me. ‘Not at all,’ said I, ‘I shall be very happy to -accommodate myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to -understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to -do.’ -

-“ ‘Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which -we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I -have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all -laid before you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from -eavesdroppers?’ -

-“ ‘Entirely.’ -

-“ ‘Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that -fuller’s-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found -in one or two places in England?’ -

-“ ‘I have heard so.’ -

-“ ‘Some little time ago I bought a small place—a very small -place—within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to -discover that there was a deposit of fuller’s-earth in one of my -fields. On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a -comparatively small one, and that it formed a link between two -very much larger ones upon the right and left—both of them, -however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These good people were -absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was -quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my -interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, -but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I -took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they -suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little -deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would -enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been -doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we -erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already -explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon the -subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it -once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our -little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts -came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting these -fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you -promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are -going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all plain?’ -

-“ ‘I quite follow you,’ said I. ‘The only point which I could not -quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press -in excavating fuller’s-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out -like gravel from a pit.’ -

-“ ‘Ah!’ said he carelessly, ‘we have our own process. We compress -the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing -what they are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully -into my confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I -trust you.’ He rose as he spoke. ‘I shall expect you, then, at -Eyford at 11:15.’ -

-“ ‘I shall certainly be there.’ -

-“ ‘And not a word to a soul.’ He looked at me with a last long, -questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank -grasp, he hurried from the room. -

-“Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very -much astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission -which had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was -glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked -had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that -this order might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the face -and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon -me, and I could not think that his explanation of the -fuller’s-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my -coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell -anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate -a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having -obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. -

-“At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. -However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I -reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o’clock. I was the -only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the -platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed -out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of -the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a -word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door -of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either -side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as fast as the -horse could go.” -

-“One horse?” interjected Holmes. -

-“Yes, only one.” -

-“Did you observe the colour?” -

-“Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the -carriage. It was a chestnut.” -

-“Tired-looking or fresh?” -

-“Oh, fresh and glossy.” -

-“Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue -your most interesting statement.” -

-“Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel -Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I -should think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the -time that we took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat -at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than -once when I glanced in his direction, that he was looking at me -with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not very good -in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. I -tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we -were, but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out -nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now -and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the -journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the -conversation soon flagged. At last, however, the bumping of the -road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive, -and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang -out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a porch -which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of -the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the -most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that -I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, -and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage -drove away. -

-“It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled -about looking for matches and muttering under his breath. -Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a -long, golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew -broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she -held above her head, pushing her face forward and peering at us. -I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which -the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich -material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as -though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a -gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly -fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered -something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room -from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the -lamp in his hand. -

-“ ‘Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a -few minutes,’ said he, throwing open another door. It was a -quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the -centre, on which several German books were scattered. Colonel -Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the -door. ‘I shall not keep you waiting an instant,’ said he, and -vanished into the darkness. -

-“I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my -ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises -on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked -across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of -the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded -across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old -clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise -everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness began -to steal over me. Who were these German people, and what were -they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And -where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was -all I knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no -idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, -were within that radius, so the place might not be so secluded, -after all. Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, -that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room, -humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling -that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee. -

-“Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the -utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman -was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind -her, the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and -beautiful face. I could see at a glance that she was sick with -fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own heart. She held up one -shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few -whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back, -like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her. -

-“ ‘I would go,’ said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to -speak calmly; ‘I would go. I should not stay here. There is no -good for you to do.’ -

-“ ‘But, madam,’ said I, ‘I have not yet done what I came for. I -cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.’ -

-“ ‘It is not worth your while to wait,’ she went on. ‘You can pass -through the door; no one hinders.’ And then, seeing that I smiled -and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and -made a step forward, with her hands wrung together. ‘For the love -of Heaven!’ she whispered, ‘get away from here before it is too -late!’ -

-“But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to -engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I -thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of -the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to -go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried -out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This -woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout -bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I -cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention -of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties -when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps -was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up -her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and -as noiselessly as she had come. -

-“The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man -with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double -chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. -

-“ ‘This is my secretary and manager,’ said the colonel. ‘By the -way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just -now. I fear that you have felt the draught.’ -

-“ ‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘I opened the door myself because I -felt the room to be a little close.’ -

-“He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. ‘Perhaps we had -better proceed to business, then,’ said he. ‘Mr. Ferguson and I -will take you up to see the machine.’ -

-“ ‘I had better put my hat on, I suppose.’ -

-“ ‘Oh, no, it is in the house.’ -

-“ ‘What, you dig fuller’s-earth in the house?’ -

-“ ‘No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. -All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us -know what is wrong with it.’ -

-“We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the -fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, -with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little -low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the -generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and no -signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster -was peeling off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in -green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an -air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the -lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon -my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent -man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at -least a fellow-countryman. -

-“Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which -he unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three -of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, -and the colonel ushered me in. -

-“ ‘We are now,’ said he, ‘actually within the hydraulic press, and -it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were -to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the -end of the descending piston, and it comes down with the force of -many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns -of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and -multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine -goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working -of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will -have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set -it right.’ -

-“I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very -thoroughly. It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of -exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and -pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by -the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which allowed -a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An -examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was -round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to -fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the cause -of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who -followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical -questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I -had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the -machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. -It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller’s-earth -was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose -that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a -purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a -large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a -crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was -scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a -muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the -colonel looking down at me. -

-“ ‘What are you doing there?’ he asked. -

-“I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as -that which he had told me. ‘I was admiring your fuller’s-earth,’ -said I; ‘I think that I should be better able to advise you as to -your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it -was used.’ -

-“The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of -my speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in -his grey eyes. -

-“ ‘Very well,’ said he, ‘you shall know all about the machine.’ He -took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key -in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it -was quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and -shoves. ‘Hullo!’ I yelled. ‘Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!’ -

-“And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my -heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish -of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp -still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining -the trough. By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming -down upon me, slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than -myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a -shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and -dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the colonel to let -me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my -cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with -my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it -flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend -very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my -face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to -think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and -yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black -shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand -erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope -back to my heart. -

-“I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the -walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw -a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which -broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For -an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door -which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself -through, and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The panel had -closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few -moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me -how narrow had been my escape. -

-“I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and -I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, -while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, -while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend -whose warning I had so foolishly rejected. -

-“ ‘Come! come!’ she cried breathlessly. ‘They will be here in a -moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste -the so-precious time, but come!’ -

-“This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to -my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding -stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we -reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of -two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we -were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about -her like one who is at her wit’s end. Then she threw open a door -which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon -was shining brightly. -

-“ ‘It is your only chance,’ said she. ‘It is high, but it may be -that you can jump it.’ -

-“As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the -passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark -rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a -butcher’s cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, -flung open the window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and -wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not be -more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I -hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between -my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, -then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance. -The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at -the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round -him and tried to hold him back. -

-“ ‘Fritz! Fritz!’ she cried in English, ‘remember your promise -after the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be -silent! Oh, he will be silent!’ -

-“ ‘You are mad, Elise!’ he shouted, struggling to break away from -her. ‘You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me -pass, I say!’ He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the -window, cut at me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and -was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was -conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the -garden below. -

-“I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and -rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I -understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, -however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. -I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and -then, for the first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and -that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie my -handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my -ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the -rose-bushes. -

-“How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been -a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was -breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with -dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded -thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the -particulars of my night’s adventure, and I sprang to my feet with -the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But -to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house -nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the -hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a -long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the -very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were -it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed -during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. -

-“Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning -train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The -same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I -arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel -Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a -carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was -there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three -miles off. -

-“It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined -to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the -police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first -to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to -bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do -exactly what you advise.” -

-We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to -this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down -from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he -placed his cuttings. -

-“Here is an advertisement which will interest you,” said he. “It -appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: -‘Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged -twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten -o’clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was -dressed in,’ etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that -the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy.” -

-“Good heavens!” cried my patient. “Then that explains what the -girl said.” -

-“Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and -desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should -stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out -pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, -every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall -go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for -Eyford.” -

-Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train -together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. -There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector -Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. -Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the -seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford -for its centre. -

-“There you are,” said he. “That circle is drawn at a radius of -ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere -near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir.” -

-“It was an hour’s good drive.” -

-“And you think that they brought you back all that way when you -were unconscious?” -

-“They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having -been lifted and conveyed somewhere.” -

-“What I cannot understand,” said I, “is why they should have -spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. -Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman’s entreaties.” -

-“I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face -in my life.” -

-“Oh, we shall soon clear up all that,” said Bradstreet. “Well, I -have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon -it the folk that we are in search of are to be found.” -

-“I think I could lay my finger on it,” said Holmes quietly. -

-“Really, now!” cried the inspector, “you have formed your -opinion! Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is -south, for the country is more deserted there.” -

-“And I say east,” said my patient. -

-“I am for west,” remarked the plain-clothes man. “There are -several quiet little villages up there.” -

-“And I am for north,” said I, “because there are no hills there, -and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up -any.” -

-“Come,” cried the inspector, laughing; “it’s a very pretty -diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do -you give your casting vote to?” -

-“You are all wrong.” -

-“But we can’t all be.” -

-“Oh, yes, you can. This is my point.” He placed his finger in the -centre of the circle. “This is where we shall find them.” -

-“But the twelve-mile drive?” gasped Hatherley. -

-“Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the -horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that -if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?” -

-“Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough,” observed Bradstreet -thoughtfully. “Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature -of this gang.” -

-“None at all,” said Holmes. “They are coiners on a large scale, -and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the -place of silver.” -

-“We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,” -said the inspector. “They have been turning out half-crowns by -the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could -get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that -showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this -lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough.” -

-But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not -destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into -Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed -up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and -hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape. -

-“A house on fire?” asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off -again on its way. -

-“Yes, sir!” said the station-master. -

-“When did it break out?” -

-“I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, -and the whole place is in a blaze.” -

-“Whose house is it?” -

-“Dr. Becher’s.” -

-“Tell me,” broke in the engineer, “is Dr. Becher a German, very -thin, with a long, sharp nose?” -

-The station-master laughed heartily. “No, sir, Dr. Becher is an -Englishman, and there isn’t a man in the parish who has a -better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, -a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as -if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm.” -

-The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all -hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low -hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in -front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in -the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to -keep the flames under. -

-“That’s it!” cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. “There is -the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That -second window is the one that I jumped from.” -

-“Well, at least,” said Holmes, “you have had your revenge upon -them. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, -when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, -though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to -observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for -your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are -a good hundred miles off by now.” -

-And Holmes’ fears came to be realised, for from that day to this -no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the -sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a -peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very -bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but -there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes’ -ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their -whereabouts. -

-The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements -which they had found within, and still more so by discovering a -newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. -About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and -they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, -and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save -some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of -the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so -dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored -in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may have -explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been -already referred to. -

-How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to -the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained -forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a -very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two -persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other -unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the -silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his -companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out -of the way of danger. -

-“Well,” said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return -once more to London, “it has been a pretty business for me! I -have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what -have I gained?” -

-“Experience,” said Holmes, laughing. “Indirectly it may be of -value, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the -reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your -existence.” - - -

-
-
-

X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

-

The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have -long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles -in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have -eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the -gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to -believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to -the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a -considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no -memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of -this remarkable episode. -

-It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I -was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came -home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table -waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather -had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and -the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as -a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. -With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had -surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, -saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and -lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the -envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s -noble correspondent could be. -

-“Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. -“Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a -fish-monger and a tide-waiter.” -

-“Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he -answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more -interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social -summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie.” -

-He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. -

-“Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all.” -

-“Not social, then?” -

-“No, distinctly professional.” -

-“And from a noble client?” -

-“One of the highest in England.” -

-“My dear fellow, I congratulate you.” -

-“I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my -client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his -case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be -wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the -papers diligently of late, have you not?” -

-“It looks like it,” said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in -the corner. “I have had nothing else to do.” -

-“It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I -read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The -latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent -events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his -wedding?” -

-“Oh, yes, with the deepest interest.” -

-“That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord -St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn -over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. -This is what he says: -

-

- ‘MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:—Lord Backwater tells me that I -may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I -have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you -in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in -connection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is -acting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no -objection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks that -it might be of some assistance. I will call at four o’clock in -the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at that -time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of -paramount importance. Yours faithfully,

-
-
“ ‘ST. SIMON.’

-“It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, -and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink -upon the outer side of his right little finger,” remarked Holmes -as he folded up the epistle. -

-“He says four o’clock. It is three now. He will be here in an -hour.” -

-“Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon -the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in -their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client -is.” He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of -reference beside the mantelpiece. “Here he is,” said he, sitting -down and flattening it out upon his knee. “ ‘Lord Robert Walsingham -de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hum! ‘Arms: -Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ -He’s forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was -Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The -Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. -They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on -the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in -all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something -more solid.” -

-“I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,” said I, -“for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as -remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew -that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the -intrusion of other matters.” -

-“Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square -furniture van. That is quite cleared up now—though, indeed, it -was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your -newspaper selections.” -

-“Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal -column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks -back: ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ it says, ‘and will, if -rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert -St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty -Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San -Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That is all.” -

-“Terse and to the point,” remarked Holmes, stretching his long, -thin legs towards the fire. -

-“There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society -papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: ‘There will soon be a -call for protection in the marriage market, for the present -free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home -product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great -Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across -the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last -week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by -these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself -for over twenty years proof against the little god’s arrows, has -now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty -Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss -Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much -attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, -and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to -considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the -future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has -been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, -and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small -estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress -is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to -make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a -British peeress.’ ” -

-“Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning. -

-“Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post -to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it -would be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen -intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would -return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been -taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later—that is, on -Wednesday last—there is a curt announcement that the wedding had -taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord -Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices -which appeared before the disappearance of the bride.” -

-“Before the what?” asked Holmes with a start. -

-“The vanishing of the lady.” -

-“When did she vanish, then?” -

-“At the wedding breakfast.” -

-“Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite -dramatic, in fact.” -

-“Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.” -

-“They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during -the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt -as this. Pray let me have the details.” -

-“I warn you that they are very incomplete.” -

-“Perhaps we may make them less so.” -

-“Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a -morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is -headed, ‘Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding’: -

-“ ‘The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the -greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which -have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as -shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the -previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to -confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently -floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush -the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it -that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what -is a common subject for conversation. -

-“ ‘The ceremony, which was performed at St. George’s, Hanover -Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the -father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, -Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the -younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia -Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of -Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been -prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a -woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to -force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging -that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a -painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler -and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house -before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast -with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and -retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some -comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that -she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an -ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the -footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus -apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, -believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his -daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with -the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with -the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which -will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very -singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing -had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There -are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the -police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the -original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some -other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange -disappearance of the bride.’ ” -

-“And is that all?” -

-“Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is -a suggestive one.” -

-“And it is—” -

-“That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, -has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a -danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom -for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole -case is in your hands now—so far as it has been set forth in the -public press.” -

-“And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would -not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, -Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I -have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not -dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, -if only as a check to my own memory.” -

-“Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page-boy, throwing open -the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, -high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about -the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose -pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His -manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue -impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little -bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off -his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin -upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of -foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, -yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. -He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to -right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his -golden eyeglasses. -

-“Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray -take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. -Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this -matter over.” -

-“A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, -Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you -have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, -though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of -society.” -

-“No, I am descending.” -

-“I beg pardon.” -

-“My last client of the sort was a king.” -

-“Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?” -

-“The King of Scandinavia.” -

-“What! Had he lost his wife?” -

-“You can understand,” said Holmes suavely, “that I extend to the -affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to -you in yours.” -

-“Of course! Very right! very right! I’m sure I beg pardon. As to -my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may -assist you in forming an opinion.” -

-“Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public -prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct—this -article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride.” -

-Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it is correct, as far as it -goes.” -

-“But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could -offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most -directly by questioning you.” -

-“Pray do so.” -

-“When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?” -

-“In San Francisco, a year ago.” -

-“You were travelling in the States?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“Did you become engaged then?” -

-“No.” -

-“But you were on a friendly footing?” -

-“I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was -amused.” -

-“Her father is very rich?” -

-“He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope.” -

-“And how did he make his money?” -

-“In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, -invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds.” -

-“Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady’s—your -wife’s character?” -

-The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down -into the fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “my wife was -twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she -ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or -mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than -from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, -with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of -traditions. She is impetuous—volcanic, I was about to say. She -is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her -resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the -name which I have the honour to bear”—he gave a little stately -cough—“had I not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I -believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that -anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her.” -

-“Have you her photograph?” -

-“I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us the -full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an -ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect -of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the -exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he -closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon. -

-“The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your -acquaintance?” -

-“Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I -met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now -married her.” -

-“She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?” -

-“A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family.” -

-“And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a -fait accompli?” -

-“I really have made no inquiries on the subject.” -

-“Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the -wedding?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“Was she in good spirits?” -

-“Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our -future lives.” -

-“Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the -wedding?” -

-“She was as bright as possible—at least until after the -ceremony.” -

-“And did you observe any change in her then?” -

-“Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had -ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident -however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible -bearing upon the case.” -

-“Pray let us have it, for all that.” -

-“Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards -the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it -fell over into the pew. There was a moment’s delay, but the -gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not -appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of -the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our -way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause.” -

-“Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of -the general public were present, then?” -

-“Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is -open.” -

-“This gentleman was not one of your wife’s friends?” -

-“No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a -common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But -really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point.” -

-“Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less -cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do -on re-entering her father’s house?” -

-“I saw her in conversation with her maid.” -

-“And who is her maid?” -

-“Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California -with her.” -

-“A confidential servant?” -

-“A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed -her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they -look upon these things in a different way.” -

-“How long did she speak to this Alice?” -

-“Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of.” -

-“You did not overhear what they said?” -

-“Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She was -accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she -meant.” -

-“American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your -wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?” -

-“She walked into the breakfast-room.” -

-“On your arm?” -

-“No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. -Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose -hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She -never came back.” -

-“But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to -her room, covered her bride’s dress with a long ulster, put on a -bonnet, and went out.” -

-“Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in -company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who -had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that -morning.” -

-“Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, -and your relations to her.” -

-Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. -“We have been on a friendly footing for some years—I may say on -a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have -not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of -complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. -Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and -devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she -heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the -reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I -feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to -Mr. Doran’s door just after we returned, and she endeavoured to -push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my -wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the -possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police -fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. -She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a -row.” -

-“Did your wife hear all this?” -

-“No, thank goodness, she did not.” -

-“And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?” -

-“Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as -so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid -some terrible trap for her.” -

-“Well, it is a possible supposition.” -

-“You think so, too?” -

-“I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon -this as likely?” -

-“I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.” -

-“Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray -what is your own theory as to what took place?” -

-“Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I -have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may -say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of -this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a -social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous -disturbance in my wife.” -

-“In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?” -

-“Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back—I -will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to -without success—I can hardly explain it in any other fashion.” -

-“Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis,” said -Holmes, smiling. “And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have -nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the -breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?” -

-“We could see the other side of the road and the Park.” -

-“Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. -I shall communicate with you.” -

-“Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our -client, rising. -

-“I have solved it.” -

-“Eh? What was that?” -

-“I say that I have solved it.” -

-“Where, then, is my wife?” -

-“That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.” -

-Lord St. Simon shook his head. “I am afraid that it will take -wiser heads than yours or mine,” he remarked, and bowing in a -stately, old-fashioned manner he departed. -

-“It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting -it on a level with his own,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “I -think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all -this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the -case before our client came into the room.” -

-“My dear Holmes!” -

-“I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I -remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination -served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial -evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a -trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau’s example.” -

-“But I have heard all that you have heard.” -

-“Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which -serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some -years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich -the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these -cases—but, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! -You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are -cigars in the box.” -

-The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, -which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a -black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated -himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him. -

-“What’s up, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You -look dissatisfied.” -

-“And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage -case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business.” -

-“Really! You surprise me.” -

-“Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip -through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day.” -

-“And very wet it seems to have made you,” said Holmes laying his -hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket. -

-“Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine.” -

-“In heaven’s name, what for?” -

-“In search of the body of Lady St. Simon.” -

-Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. -

-“Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?” he -asked. -

-“Why? What do you mean?” -

-“Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in -the one as in the other.” -

-Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. “I suppose you -know all about it,” he snarled. -

-“Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up.” -

-“Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in -the matter?” -

-“I think it very unlikely.” -

-“Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found -this in it?” He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the -floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin -shoes and a bride’s wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked -in water. “There,” said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the -top of the pile. “There is a little nut for you to crack, Master -Holmes.” -

-“Oh, indeed!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. -“You dragged them from the Serpentine?” -

-“No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. -They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me -that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off.” -

-“By the same brilliant reasoning, every man’s body is to be found -in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope -to arrive at through this?” -

-“At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance.” -

-“I am afraid that you will find it difficult.” -

-“Are you, indeed, now?” cried Lestrade with some bitterness. “I -am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your -deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as -many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.” -

-“And how?” -

-“In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the -card-case is a note. And here is the very note.” He slapped it -down upon the table in front of him. “Listen to this: ‘You will -see me when all is ready. Come at once. F. H. M.’ Now my theory all -along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora -Millar, and that she, with confederates, no doubt, was -responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with her -initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped -into her hand at the door and which lured her within their -reach.” -

-“Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing. “You really are -very fine indeed. Let me see it.” He took up the paper in a -listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he -gave a little cry of satisfaction. “This is indeed important,” -said he. -

-“Ha! you find it so?” -

-“Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly.” -

-Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. “Why,” he -shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!” -

-“On the contrary, this is the right side.” -

-“The right side? You’re mad! Here is the note written in pencil -over here.” -

-“And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel -bill, which interests me deeply.” -

-“There’s nothing in it. I looked at it before,” said Lestrade. -“ ‘Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. -6d., glass sherry, 8d.’ I see nothing in that.” -

-“Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the -note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I -congratulate you again.” -

-“I’ve wasted time enough,” said Lestrade, rising. “I believe in -hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. -Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom -of the matter first.” He gathered up the garments, thrust them -into the bag, and made for the door. -

-“Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival -vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady -St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any -such person.” -

-Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, -tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and -hurried away. -

-He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on -his overcoat. “There is something in what the fellow says about -outdoor work,” he remarked, “so I think, Watson, that I must -leave you to your papers for a little.” -

-It was after five o’clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had -no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a -confectioner’s man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked -with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and -presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean -little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble -lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold -woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie with a group of -ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, -my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian -Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid -for and were ordered to this address. -

-Just before nine o’clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the -room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his -eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his -conclusions. -

-“They have laid the supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands. -

-“You seem to expect company. They have laid for five.” -

-“Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in,” said he. “I -am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I -fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs.” -

-It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, -dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very -perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. -

-“My messenger reached you, then?” asked Holmes. -

-“Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. -Have you good authority for what you say?” -

-“The best possible.” -

-Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his -forehead. -

-“What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that one of -the family has been subjected to such humiliation?” -

-“It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any -humiliation.” -

-“Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint.” -

-“I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the -lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of -doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she -had no one to advise her at such a crisis.” -

-“It was a slight, sir, a public slight,” said Lord St. Simon, -tapping his fingers upon the table. -

-“You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so -unprecedented a position.” -

-“I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have -been shamefully used.” -

-“I think that I heard a ring,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are steps -on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view -of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here -who may be more successful.” He opened the door and ushered in a -lady and gentleman. “Lord St. Simon,” said he “allow me to -introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I -think, you have already met.” -

-At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his -seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand -thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended -dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out -her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was -as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was -one which it was hard to resist. -

-“You’re angry, Robert,” said she. “Well, I guess you have every -cause to be.” -

-“Pray make no apology to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly. -

-“Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I -should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of -rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just -didn’t know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn’t -fall down and do a faint right there before the altar.” -

-“Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave -the room while you explain this matter?” -

-“If I may give an opinion,” remarked the strange gentleman, -“we’ve had just a little too much secrecy over this business -already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to -hear the rights of it.” He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, -clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner. -

-“Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank here -and I met in ’84, in McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies, where Pa -was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; -but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, -while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to -nothing. The richer Pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last Pa -wouldn’t hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took -me away to ’Frisco. Frank wouldn’t throw up his hand, though; so -he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing anything -about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just -fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and -make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had -as much as Pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of -time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. -‘Why shouldn’t we be married right away, then,’ said he, ‘and -then I will feel sure of you; and I won’t claim to be your -husband until I come back?’ Well, we talked it over, and he had -fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, -that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek -his fortune, and I went back to Pa. -

-“The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then -he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New -Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a -miners’ camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was -my Frank’s name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was -very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took -me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. Not a word of news came for a -year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really -dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and we came to London, -and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased, but I felt -all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place -in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. -

-“Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done -my duty by him. We can’t command our love, but we can our -actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make -him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may -imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I -glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the -first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked -again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as -if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I -didn’t drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the -words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my -ear. I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop the service and make -a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to -know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to -tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, -and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on -the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the -note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a -line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. -Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now -to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct. -

-“When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, -and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but -to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to -have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before -his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to -run away and explain afterwards. I hadn’t been at the table ten -minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of -the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. -I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman -came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to -me—seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little -secret of his own before marriage also—but I managed to get away -from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and -away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and -that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank -had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to -’Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to -England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the -very morning of my second wedding.” -

-“I saw it in a paper,” explained the American. “It gave the name -and the church but not where the lady lived.” -

-“Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all -for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I -should like to vanish away and never see any of them again—just -sending a line to Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It -was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting -round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So -Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of -them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away -somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we -should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good -gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how -he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very -clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and -that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so -secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord -St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at -once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if -I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very -meanly of me.” -

-Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but -had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this -long narrative. -

-“Excuse me,” he said, “but it is not my custom to discuss my most -intimate personal affairs in this public manner.” -

-“Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?” -

-“Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure.” He put out -his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. -

-“I had hoped,” suggested Holmes, “that you would have joined us -in a friendly supper.” -

-“I think that there you ask a little too much,” responded his -Lordship. “I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent -developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over -them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a -very good-night.” He included us all in a sweeping bow and -stalked out of the room. -

-“Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your -company,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a joy to meet an -American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the -folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone -years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens -of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a -quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.” -

-“The case has been an interesting one,” remarked Holmes when our -visitors had left us, “because it serves to show very clearly how -simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight -seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural -than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing -stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. -Lestrade of Scotland Yard.” -

-“You were not yourself at fault at all, then?” -

-“From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that -the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, -the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of -returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the -morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that -something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was -out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she -seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America -because she had spent so short a time in this country that she -could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence -over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change -her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a -process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an -American. Then who could this American be, and why should he -possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might -be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in -rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got -before I ever heard Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he told us -of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride’s manner, of so -transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a -bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very -significant allusion to claim-jumping—which in miners’ parlance -means taking possession of that which another person has a prior -claim to—the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had -gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a -previous husband—the chances being in favour of the latter.” -

-“And how in the world did you find them?” -

-“It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held -information in his hands the value of which he did not himself -know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, -but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had -settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels.” -

-“How did you deduce the select?” -

-“By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence -for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive -hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. -In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I -learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an -American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking -over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I -had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded -to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate -enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them -some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be -better in every way that they should make their position a little -clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in -particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I -made him keep the appointment.” -

-“But with no very good result,” I remarked. “His conduct was -certainly not very gracious.” -

-“Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be -very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and -wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of -fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully -and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in -the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for -the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away -these bleak autumnal evenings.” - - -

-
-
-

XI. The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

-

“Holmes,” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking -down the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather -sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone.” -

-My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands -in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It -was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day -before still lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the -wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed -into a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and -on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as -when it fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but -was still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer -passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the -Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman -whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. -

-He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a -massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was -dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining -hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet -his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress -and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little -springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to -set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and -down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most -extraordinary contortions. -

-“What on earth can be the matter with him?” I asked. “He is -looking up at the numbers of the houses.” -

-“I believe that he is coming here,” said Holmes, rubbing his -hands. -

-“Here?” -

-“Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I -think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?” As -he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and -pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the -clanging. -

-A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still -gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in -his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and -pity. For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his -body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the -extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his -feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we -both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room. -Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting -beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, -soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ. -

-“You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?” said he. -“You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have -recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into -any little problem which you may submit to me.” -

-The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting -against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his -brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. -

-“No doubt you think me mad?” said he. -

-“I see that you have had some great trouble,” responded Holmes. -

-“God knows I have!—a trouble which is enough to unseat my -reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might -have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet -borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; -but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have -been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. -The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found -out of this horrible affair.” -

-“Pray compose yourself, sir,” said Holmes, “and let me have a -clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen -you.” -

-“My name,” answered our visitor, “is probably familiar to your -ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & -Stevenson, of Threadneedle Street.” -

-The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior -partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City -of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the -foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We -waited, all curiosity, until with another effort he braced -himself to tell his story. -

-“I feel that time is of value,” said he; “that is why I hastened -here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure -your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and -hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this -snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who -takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the -facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can. -

-“It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking -business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative -investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection -and the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means -of laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security -is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction -during the last few years, and there are many noble families to -whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their -pictures, libraries, or plate. -

-“Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a -card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I -saw the name, for it was that of none other than—well, perhaps -even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name -which is a household word all over the earth—one of the highest, -noblest, most exalted names in England. I was overwhelmed by the -honour and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but he plunged -at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry -quickly through a disagreeable task. -

-“ ‘Mr. Holder,’ said he, ‘I have been informed that you are in the -habit of advancing money.’ -

-“ ‘The firm does so when the security is good.’ I answered. -

-“ ‘It is absolutely essential to me,’ said he, ‘that I should have -£50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a -sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it -a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my -position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place -one’s self under obligations.’ -

-“ ‘For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?’ I asked. -

-“ ‘Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most -certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you -think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the -money should be paid at once.’ -

-“ ‘I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my -own private purse,’ said I, ‘were it not that the strain would be -rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do -it in the name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must -insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution -should be taken.’ -

-“ ‘I should much prefer to have it so,’ said he, raising up a -square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. -‘You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?’ -

-“ ‘One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,’ -said I. -

-“ ‘Precisely.’ He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, -flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery -which he had named. ‘There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,’ said -he, ‘and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The -lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the -sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you as my -security.’ -

-“I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some -perplexity from it to my illustrious client. -

-“ ‘You doubt its value?’ he asked. -

-“ ‘Not at all. I only doubt—’ -

-“ ‘The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest -about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely -certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a -pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?’ -

-“ ‘Ample.’ -

-“ ‘You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof -of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I -have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to -refrain from all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to -preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I -need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any -harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as -serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the -world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. -I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall -call for it in person on Monday morning.’ -

-“Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, -calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty £1000 -notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the -precious case lying upon the table in front of me, I could not -but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility -which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, as it -was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any -misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever -consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter -the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned -once more to my work. -

-“When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave -so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers’ safes had -been forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how -terrible would be the position in which I should find myself! I -determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always -carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might -never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a -cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel -with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs -and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room. -

-“And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to -thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep -out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three -maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose -absolute reliability is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy -Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few -months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has -always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has -attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place. -That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we -believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. -

-“So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it -will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an -only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. -Holmes—a grievous disappointment. I have no doubt that I am -myself to blame. People tell me that I have spoiled him. Very -likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I -had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a -moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it -would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I -meant it for the best. -

-“It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my -business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, -wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the -handling of large sums of money. When he was young he became a -member of an aristocratic club, and there, having charming -manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long -purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards -and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again -to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his -allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried -more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he -was keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir -George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again. -

-“And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George -Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently -brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could -hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than -Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been -everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of -great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far -away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his -cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that -he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, -too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman’s quick insight into -character. -

-“And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but -when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the -world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my -daughter. She is a sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, -a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and -gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do not know -what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone -against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for -he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused him. I -think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it -would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his -whole life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too late! -

-“Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and -I shall continue with my miserable story. -

-“When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after -dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious -treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name -of my client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am -sure, left the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. -Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous -coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it. -

-“ ‘Where have you put it?’ asked Arthur. -

-“ ‘In my own bureau.’ -

-“ ‘Well, I hope to goodness the house won’t be burgled during the -night.’ said he. -

-“ ‘It is locked up,’ I answered. -

-“ ‘Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I -have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.’ -

-“He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of -what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with -a very grave face. -

-“ ‘Look here, dad,’ said he with his eyes cast down, ‘can you let -me have £200?’ -

-“ ‘No, I cannot!’ I answered sharply. ‘I have been far too -generous with you in money matters.’ -

-“ ‘You have been very kind,’ said he, ‘but I must have this money, -or else I can never show my face inside the club again.’ -

-“ ‘And a very good thing, too!’ I cried. -

-“ ‘Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,’ -said he. ‘I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money -in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try -other means.’ -

-“I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the -month. ‘You shall not have a farthing from me,’ I cried, on which -he bowed and left the room without another word. -

-“When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my -treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go -round the house to see that all was secure—a duty which I -usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform -myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself -at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as -I approached. -

-“ ‘Tell me, dad,’ said she, looking, I thought, a little -disturbed, ‘did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out -to-night?’ -

-“ ‘Certainly not.’ -

-“ ‘She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she -has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that -it is hardly safe and should be stopped.’ -

-“ ‘You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer -it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?’ -

-“ ‘Quite sure, dad.’ -

-“ ‘Then, good-night.’ I kissed her and went up to my bedroom -again, where I was soon asleep. -

-“I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may -have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question -me upon any point which I do not make clear.” -

-“On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid.” -

-“I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be -particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety -in my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. -About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in -the house. It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an -impression behind it as though a window had gently closed -somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my -horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in -the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, -and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door. -

-“ ‘Arthur!’ I screamed, ‘you villain! you thief! How dare you -touch that coronet?’ -

-“The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, -dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the -light, holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be -wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry -he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I -snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with -three of the beryls in it, was missing. -

-“ ‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You have -destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the -jewels which you have stolen?’ -

-“ ‘Stolen!’ he cried. -

-“ ‘Yes, thief!’ I roared, shaking him by the shoulder. -

-“ ‘There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,’ said he. -

-“ ‘There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I -call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to -tear off another piece?’ -

-“ ‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it -any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, -since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in -the morning and make my own way in the world.’ -

-“ ‘You shall leave it in the hands of the police!’ I cried -half-mad with grief and rage. ‘I shall have this matter probed to -the bottom.’ -

-“ ‘You shall learn nothing from me,’ said he with a passion such -as I should not have thought was in his nature. ‘If you choose to -call the police, let the police find what they can.’ -

-“By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my -voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, -at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur’s face, she read the -whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the -ground. I sent the house-maid for the police and put the -investigation into their hands at once. When the inspector and a -constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with -his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge -him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private -matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was -national property. I was determined that the law should have its -way in everything. -

-“ ‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It -would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the -house for five minutes.’ -

-“ ‘That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you -have stolen,’ said I. And then, realising the dreadful position -in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only -my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at -stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would -convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but tell -me what he had done with the three missing stones. -

-“ ‘You may as well face the matter,’ said I; ‘you have been caught -in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. -If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling -us where the beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.’ -

-“ ‘Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,’ he answered, -turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened -for any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for -it. I called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search -was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of -every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed -the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the -wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our -threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after -going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to -you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. -The police have openly confessed that they can at present make -nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think -necessary. I have already offered a reward of £1000. My -God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son -in one night. Oh, what shall I do!” -

-He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to -and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got -beyond words. -

-Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows -knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. -

-“Do you receive much company?” he asked. -

-“None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of -Arthur’s. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No -one else, I think.” -

-“Do you go out much in society?” -

-“Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for -it.” -

-“That is unusual in a young girl.” -

-“She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She -is four-and-twenty.” -

-“This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to -her also.” -

-“Terrible! She is even more affected than I.” -

-“You have neither of you any doubt as to your son’s guilt?” -

-“How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet -in his hands.” -

-“I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of -the coronet at all injured?” -

-“Yes, it was twisted.” -

-“Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to -straighten it?” -

-“God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. -But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If -his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?” -

-“Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? -His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several -singular points about the case. What did the police think of the -noise which awoke you from your sleep?” -

-“They considered that it might be caused by Arthur’s closing his -bedroom door.” -

-“A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door -so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the -disappearance of these gems?” -

-“They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture -in the hope of finding them.” -

-“Have they thought of looking outside the house?” -

-“Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has -already been minutely examined.” -

-“Now, my dear sir,” said Holmes, “is it not obvious to you now -that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you -or the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you -to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider -what is involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came -down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, -opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main -force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, -concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that -nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six -into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger -of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?” -

-“But what other is there?” cried the banker with a gesture of -despair. “If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain -them?” -

-“It is our task to find that out,” replied Holmes; “so now, if -you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, -and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into -details.” -

-My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, -which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy -were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I -confess that the guilt of the banker’s son appeared to me to be -as obvious as it did to his unhappy father, but still I had such -faith in Holmes’ judgment that I felt that there must be some -grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted -explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the -southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his breast and his -hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our client -appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope -which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a -desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short railway -journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest -residence of the great financier. -

-Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing -back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a -snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates -which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden -thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges -stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the -tradesmen’s entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the -stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a -public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing -at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the -front, down the tradesmen’s path, and so round by the garden -behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I -went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should -return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and -a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle height, -slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker against -the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have ever -seen such deadly paleness in a woman’s face. Her lips, too, were -bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept -silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of -grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the -more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong -character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding -my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand -over his head with a sweet womanly caress. -

-“You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you -not, dad?” she asked. -

-“No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom.” -

-“But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman’s -instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will -be sorry for having acted so harshly.” -

-“Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?” -

-“Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should -suspect him.” -

-“How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with -the coronet in his hand?” -

-“Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take -my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say -no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in -prison!” -

-“I shall never let it drop until the gems are found—never, Mary! -Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences -to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman -down from London to inquire more deeply into it.” -

-“This gentleman?” she asked, facing round to me. -

-“No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in -the stable lane now.” -

-“The stable lane?” She raised her dark eyebrows. “What can he -hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, -that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, -that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime.” -

-“I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may -prove it,” returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the -snow from his shoes. “I believe I have the honour of addressing -Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?” -

-“Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up.” -

-“You heard nothing yourself last night?” -

-“Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard -that, and I came down.” -

-“You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you -fasten all the windows?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“Were they all fastened this morning?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked -to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?” -

-“Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and -who may have heard uncle’s remarks about the coronet.” -

-“I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her -sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery.” -

-“But what is the good of all these vague theories,” cried the -banker impatiently, “when I have told you that I saw Arthur with -the coronet in his hands?” -

-“Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this -girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I -presume?” -

-“Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I -met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom.” -

-“Do you know him?” -

-“Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. -His name is Francis Prosper.” -

-“He stood,” said Holmes, “to the left of the door—that is to -say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?” -

-“Yes, he did.” -

-“And he is a man with a wooden leg?” -

-Something like fear sprang up in the young lady’s expressive -black eyes. “Why, you are like a magician,” said she. “How do you -know that?” She smiled, but there was no answering smile in -Holmes’ thin, eager face. -

-“I should be very glad now to go upstairs,” said he. “I shall -probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps -I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up.” -

-He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at -the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. -This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill -with his powerful magnifying lens. “Now we shall go upstairs,” -said he at last. -

-The banker’s dressing-room was a plainly furnished little -chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. -Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock. -

-“Which key was used to open it?” he asked. -

-“That which my son himself indicated—that of the cupboard of the -lumber-room.” -

-“Have you it here?” -

-“That is it on the dressing-table.” -

-Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau. -

-“It is a noiseless lock,” said he. “It is no wonder that it did -not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must -have a look at it.” He opened the case, and taking out the diadem -he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the -jeweller’s art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I -have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, -where a corner holding three gems had been torn away. -

-“Now, Mr. Holder,” said Holmes, “here is the corner which -corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I -beg that you will break it off.” -

-The banker recoiled in horror. “I should not dream of trying,” -said he. -

-“Then I will.” Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but -without result. “I feel it give a little,” said he; “but, though -I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my -time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do -you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would -be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this -happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard -nothing of it?” -

-“I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me.” -

-“But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, -Miss Holder?” -

-“I confess that I still share my uncle’s perplexity.” -

-“Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?” -

-“He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt.” -

-“Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary -luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault -if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your -permission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations -outside.” -

-He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any -unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an -hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet -heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever. -

-“I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. -Holder,” said he; “I can serve you best by returning to my -rooms.” -

-“But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?” -

-“I cannot tell.” -

-The banker wrung his hands. “I shall never see them again!” he -cried. “And my son? You give me hopes?” -

-“My opinion is in no way altered.” -

-“Then, for God’s sake, what was this dark business which was -acted in my house last night?” -

-“If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow -morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to -make it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to -act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you -place no limit on the sum I may draw.” -

-“I would give my fortune to have them back.” -

-“Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. -Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here -again before evening.” -

-It was obvious to me that my companion’s mind was now made up -about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than -I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward -journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always -glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in -despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our -rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in -a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned -up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he -was a perfect sample of the class. -

-“I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass -above the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, -Watson, but I fear that it won’t do. I may be on the trail in -this matter, or I may be following a will-o’-the-wisp, but I -shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few -hours.” He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, -sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this -rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition. -

-I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in -excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his -hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a -cup of tea. -

-“I only looked in as I passed,” said he. “I am going right on.” -

-“Where to?” -

-“Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time -before I get back. Don’t wait up for me in case I should be -late.” -

-“How are you getting on?” -

-“Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham -since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a -very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a -good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get -these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly -respectable self.” -

-I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for -satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, -and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He -hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of -the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his -congenial hunt. -

-I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so -I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away -for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that -his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he -came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there -he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the -other, as fresh and trim as possible. -

-“You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,” said he, “but -you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this -morning.” -

-“Why, it is after nine now,” I answered. “I should not be -surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring.” -

-It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the -change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally -of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, -while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered -with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than -his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into -the armchair which I pushed forward for him. -

-“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said -he. “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without -a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured -age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, -Mary, has deserted me.” -

-“Deserted you?” -

-“Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was -empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to -her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had -married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was -thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers -in this note: -

-

- ‘MY DEAREST UNCLE:—I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, -and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune -might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my -mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must -leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is -provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will -be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in -death, I am ever your loving

-
-
“ ‘MARY.’
-

-“What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it -points to suicide?” -

-“No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible -solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of -your troubles.” -

-“Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have -learned something! Where are the gems?” -

-“You would not think £1000 apiece an excessive sum for -them?” -

-“I would pay ten.” -

-“That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. -And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? -Here is a pen. Better make it out for £4000.” -

-With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes -walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of -gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. -

-With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up. -

-“You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!” -

-The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and -he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. -

-“There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder,” said Sherlock -Holmes rather sternly. -

-“Owe!” He caught up a pen. “Name the sum, and I will pay it.” -

-“No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that -noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I -should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to -have one.” -

-“Then it was not Arthur who took them?” -

-“I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.” -

-“You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him -know that the truth is known.” -

-“He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an -interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the -story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was -right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite -clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his -lips.” -

-“For heaven’s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary -mystery!” -

-“I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached -it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me -to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding -between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now -fled together.” -

-“My Mary? Impossible!” -

-“It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither -you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you -admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most -dangerous men in England—a ruined gambler, an absolutely -desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece -knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he -had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she -alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, -but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing -him nearly every evening.” -

-“I cannot, and I will not, believe it!” cried the banker with an -ashen face. -

-“I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. -Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, -slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which -leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right -through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the -coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he -bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but -there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all -other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had -hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming -downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you -about one of the servants’ escapade with her wooden-legged lover, -which was all perfectly true. -

-“Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but -he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. -In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, -so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin -walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared -into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad -slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what -would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the -room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw -that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed -down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and -slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see -what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the -window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then -closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close -to where he stood hid behind the curtain. -

-“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action -without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the -instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune -this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it -right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened -the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, -where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George -Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was -a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the -coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son -struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something -suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet -in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your -room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in -the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you -appeared upon the scene.” -

-“Is it possible?” gasped the banker. -

-“You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when -he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not -explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who -certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He -took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her -secret.” -

-“And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the -coronet,” cried Mr. Holder. “Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have -been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! -The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the -scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!” -

-“When I arrived at the house,” continued Holmes, “I at once went -very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in -the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since -the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost -to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen’s path, but -found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, -however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood -and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed -that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been -disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was -shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had -waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time -that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had -already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed -round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, -which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable -lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in -front of me. -

-“There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second -double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked -feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the -latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the -other had run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over -the depression of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed -after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the -hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while -waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred -yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, -where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, -and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me -that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and -another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been -hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that -the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue. -

-“On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the -sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could -at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the -outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming -in. I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what -had occurred. A man had waited outside the window; someone had -brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son; he had -pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged -at the coronet, their united strength causing injuries which -neither alone could have effected. He had returned with the -prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent. So -far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and who -was it brought him the coronet? -

-“It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the -impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the -truth. Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, -so there only remained your niece and the maids. But if it were -the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in -their place? There could be no possible reason. As he loved his -cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should -retain her secret—the more so as the secret was a disgraceful -one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and -how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture -became a certainty. -

-“And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, -for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must -feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your -circle of friends was a very limited one. But among them was Sir -George Burnwell. I had heard of him before as being a man of evil -reputation among women. It must have been he who wore those boots -and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur -had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was -safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising his -own family. -

-“Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took -next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George’s house, -managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that -his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at -the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of -his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham and -saw that they exactly fitted the tracks.” -

-“I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening,” -said Mr. Holder. -

-“Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home -and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to -play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert -scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our -hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of -course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every -particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a -life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I -clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he -became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give -him a price for the stones he held—£1000 apiece. That -brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. ‘Why, -dash it all!’ said he, ‘I’ve let them go at six hundred for the -three!’ I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had -them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I -set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at £1000 -apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all -was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o’clock, after -what I may call a really hard day’s work.” -

-“A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said -the banker, rising. “Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but -you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your -skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I -must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I -have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my -very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now.” -

-“I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is -wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that -whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than -sufficient punishment.” - - -

-
-
-

XII. The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

-

“To the man who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock -Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily -Telegraph, “it is frequently in its least important and lowliest -manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is -pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped -this truth that in these little records of our cases which you -have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, -occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much -to the many causes célèbres and sensational trials in which I -have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been -trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those -faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made -my special province.” -

-“And yet,” said I, smiling, “I cannot quite hold myself absolved -from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my -records.” -

-“You have erred, perhaps,” he observed, taking up a glowing -cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood -pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a -disputatious rather than a meditative mood—“you have erred -perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your -statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing -upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is -really the only notable feature about the thing.” -

-“It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter,” -I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism -which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my -friend’s singular character. -

-“No, it is not selfishness or conceit,” said he, answering, as -was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. “If I claim full -justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing—a -thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it -is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should -dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of -lectures into a series of tales.” -

-It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after -breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at -Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of -dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, -shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit -and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for -the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been -silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the -advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, -having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very -sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. -

-“At the same time,” he remarked after a pause, during which he -had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, -“you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of -these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself -in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, -at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King -of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the -problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the -incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are -outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I -fear that you may have bordered on the trivial.” -

-“The end may have been so,” I answered, “but the methods I hold -to have been novel and of interest.” -

-“Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant -public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a -compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of -analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot -blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at -least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As -to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an -agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to -young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched -bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my -zero-point, I fancy. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter across -to me. -

-It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and -ran thus: -

-

-DEAR MR. HOLMES:—I am very anxious to consult you as to whether -I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered -to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I -do not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, -

-
-
“VIOLET HUNTER.”
-

-“Do you know the young lady?” I asked. -

-“Not I.” -

-“It is half-past ten now.” -

-“Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.” -

-“It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You -remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to -be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. -It may be so in this case, also.” -

-“Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, -for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.” -

-As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. -She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, -freckled like a plover’s egg, and with the brisk manner of a -woman who has had her own way to make in the world. -

-“You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure,” said she, as my -companion rose to greet her, “but I have had a very strange -experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort -from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be -kind enough to tell me what I should do.” -

-“Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything -that I can to serve you.” -

-I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner -and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching -fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and -his finger-tips together, to listen to her story. -

-“I have been a governess for five years,” said she, “in the -family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel -received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his -children over to America with him, so that I found myself without -a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but -without success. At last the little money which I had saved began -to run short, and I was at my wit’s end as to what I should do. -

-“There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End -called Westaway’s, and there I used to call about once a week in -order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. -Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is -really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, -and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, -and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers -and sees whether she has anything which would suit them. -

-“Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office -as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A -prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy -chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at -her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very -earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a -jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper. -

-“ ‘That will do,’ said he; ‘I could not ask for anything better. -Capital! capital!’ He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his -hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a -comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at -him. -

-“ ‘You are looking for a situation, miss?’ he asked. -

-“ ‘Yes, sir.’ -

-“ ‘As governess?’ -

-“ ‘Yes, sir.’ -

-“ ‘And what salary do you ask?’ -

-“ ‘I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence -Munro.’ -

-“ ‘Oh, tut, tut! sweating—rank sweating!’ he cried, throwing his -fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling -passion. ‘How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with -such attractions and accomplishments?’ -

-“ ‘My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ said I. -‘A little French, a little German, music, and drawing—’ -

-“ ‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘This is all quite beside the question. -The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment -of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are -not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a -considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have -why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to -accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, -madam, would commence at £100 a year.’ -

-“You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, -such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, -however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, -opened a pocket-book and took out a note. -

-“ ‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant -fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid -the white creases of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies -half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little -expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.’ -

-“It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so -thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the -advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something -unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know -a little more before I quite committed myself. -

-“ ‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I. -

-“ ‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles -on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my -dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.’ -

-“ ‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would -be.’ -

-“ ‘One child—one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if -you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! -smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!’ He leaned back -in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again. -

-“I was a little startled at the nature of the child’s amusement, -but the father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was -joking. -

-“ ‘My sole duties, then,’ I asked, ‘are to take charge of a single -child?’ -

-“ ‘No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,’ he -cried. ‘Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would -suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided -always that they were such commands as a lady might with -propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?’ -

-“ ‘I should be happy to make myself useful.’ -

-“ ‘Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you -know—faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress -which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. -Heh?’ -

-“ ‘No,’ said I, considerably astonished at his words. -

-“ ‘Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to -you?’ -

-“ ‘Oh, no.’ -

-“ ‘Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?’ -

-“I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, -my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of -chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of -sacrificing it in this offhand fashion. -

-“ ‘I am afraid that that is quite impossible,’ said I. He had been -watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a -shadow pass over his face as I spoke. -

-“ ‘I am afraid that it is quite essential,’ said he. ‘It is a -little fancy of my wife’s, and ladies’ fancies, you know, madam, -ladies’ fancies must be consulted. And so you won’t cut your -hair?’ -

-“ ‘No, sir, I really could not,’ I answered firmly. -

-“ ‘Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a -pity, because in other respects you would really have done very -nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more -of your young ladies.’ -

-“The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers -without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so -much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting -that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal. -

-“ ‘Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?’ she asked. -

-“ ‘If you please, Miss Stoper.’ -

-“ ‘Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the -most excellent offers in this fashion,’ said she sharply. ‘You -can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such -opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong -upon the table, and I was shown out by the page. -

-“Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found -little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the -table, I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very -foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and -expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were -at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few -governesses in England are getting £100 a year. Besides, -what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing -it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was -inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after -I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go -back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open -when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it -here and I will read it to you: -

-
“ ‘The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
-

 ‘DEAR MISS HUNTER:—Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your -address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have -reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you -should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of -you. We are willing to give £30 a quarter, or £120 a -year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which -our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all. My -wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would -like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need -not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one -belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which -would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting -here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that -need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no -doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty -during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain -firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary -may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child -is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall -meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. -Yours faithfully,

-
-
“ ‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’
-

-“That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and -my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, -that before taking the final step I should like to submit the -whole matter to your consideration.” -

-“Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the -question,” said Holmes, smiling. -

-“But you would not advise me to refuse?” -

-“I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to -see a sister of mine apply for.” -

-“What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?” -

-“Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself -formed some opinion?” -

-“Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. -Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not -possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the -matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that -he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an -outbreak?” -

-“That is a possible solution—in fact, as matters stand, it is -the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a -nice household for a young lady.” -

-“But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!” -

-“Well, yes, of course the pay is good—too good. That is what -makes me uneasy. Why should they give you £120 a year, when -they could have their pick for £40? There must be some -strong reason behind.” -

-“I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would -understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so -much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me.” -

-“Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that -your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has -come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel -about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt -or in danger—” -

-“Danger! What danger do you foresee?” -

-Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would cease to be a danger if -we could define it,” said he. “But at any time, day or night, a -telegram would bring me down to your help.” -

-“That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair with the -anxiety all swept from her face. “I shall go down to Hampshire -quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, -sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester -to-morrow.” With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both -good-night and bustled off upon her way. -

-“At least,” said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending -the stairs, “she seems to be a young lady who is very well able -to take care of herself.” -

-“And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I am much -mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past.” -

-It was not very long before my friend’s prediction was fulfilled. -A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts -turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of -human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual -salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to -something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether -the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond -my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat -frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an -abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his -hand when I mentioned it. “Data! data! data!” he cried -impatiently. “I can’t make bricks without clay.” And yet he would -always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever -have accepted such a situation. -

-The telegram which we eventually received came late one night -just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down -to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently -indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a -test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came -down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, -and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me. -

-“Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” said he, and turned back -to his chemical studies. -

-The summons was a brief and urgent one. -

-

-Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday -to-morrow,” it said. “Do come! I am at my wit’s end.

-
“HUNTER.”
-

-“Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up. -

-“I should wish to.” -

-“Just look it up, then.” -

-“There is a train at half-past nine,” said I, glancing over my -Bradshaw. “It is due at Winchester at 11:30.” -

-“That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my -analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the -morning.” -

-By eleven o’clock the next day we were well upon our way to the -old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers -all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he -threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal -spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white -clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining -very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, -which set an edge to a man’s energy. All over the countryside, -away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and -grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light -green of the new foliage. -

-“Are they not fresh and beautiful?” I cried with all the -enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. -

-But Holmes shook his head gravely. -

-“Do you know, Watson,” said he, “that it is one of the curses of -a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with -reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered -houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, -and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their -isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed -there.” -

-“Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these -dear old homesteads?” -

-“They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, -Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest -alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin -than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.” -

-“You horrify me!” -

-“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion -can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no -lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of -a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among -the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever -so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is -but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these -lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part -with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the -deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, -year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this -lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I -should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of -country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is -not personally threatened.” -

-“No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away.” -

-“Quite so. She has her freedom.” -

-“What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?” -

-“I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would -cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is -correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we -shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of -the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has -to tell.” -

-The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no -distance from the station, and there we found the young lady -waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch -awaited us upon the table. -

-“I am so delighted that you have come,” she said earnestly. “It -is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I -should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me.” -

-“Pray tell us what has happened to you.” -

-“I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. -Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into -town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose.” -

-“Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his long -thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. -

-“In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, -with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is -only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and -I am not easy in my mind about them.” -

-“What can you not understand?” -

-“Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just -as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and -drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he -said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, -for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all -stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds -round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which -slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about -a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs -to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord -Southerton’s preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in -front of the hall door has given its name to the place. -

-“I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, -and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. -There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to -us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is -not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much -younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, -while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their -conversation I have gathered that they have been married about -seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by -the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. -Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them -was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As -the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite -imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her -father’s young wife. -

-“Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as -in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. -She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately -devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey -eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every -little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her -also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they -seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, -this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the -saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her -in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of -her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so -utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small -for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. -His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between -savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving -pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea -of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning -the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would -rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he -has little to do with my story.” -

-“I am glad of all details,” remarked my friend, “whether they -seem to you to be relevant or not.” -

-“I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one -unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was -the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a -man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, -uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual -smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been -quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. -His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as -silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most -unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the -nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one -corner of the building. -

-“For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was -very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after -breakfast and whispered something to her husband. -

-“ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, turning to me, ‘we are very much obliged to -you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut -your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest -iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue -dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in -your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should -both be extremely obliged.’ -

-“The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade -of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it -bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not -have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. -and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which -seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for -me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching -along the entire front of the house, with three long windows -reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the -central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was -asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the -other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest -stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how -comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. -Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so -much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, -anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle -suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the -day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in -the nursery. -

-“Two days later this same performance was gone through under -exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I -sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny -stories of which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which -he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and -moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not -fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for -about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then -suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and -to change my dress. -

-“You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to -what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly -be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face -away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire -to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be -impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been -broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of -the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst -of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able -with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I -confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that -was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I -perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, -a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in -my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are -usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the -railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I -lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her -eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, -but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my -hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once. -

-“ ‘Jephro,’ said she, ‘there is an impertinent fellow upon the -road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.’ -

-“ ‘No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked. -

-“ ‘No, I know no one in these parts.’ -

-“ ‘Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to -him to go away.’ -

-“ ‘Surely it would be better to take no notice.’ -

-“ ‘No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn -round and wave him away like that.’ -

-“I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew -down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have -not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor -seen the man in the road.” -

-“Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be a -most interesting one.” -

-“You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may -prove to be little relation between the different incidents of -which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper -Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands -near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp -rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving -about. -

-“ ‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two -planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’ -

-“I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a -vague figure huddled up in the darkness. -

-“ ‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at the start -which I had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, -but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do -anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, -so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose -every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs -upon. For goodness’ sake don’t you ever on any pretext set your -foot over the threshold at night, for it’s as much as your life -is worth.’ -

-“The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to -look out of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. -It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the -house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was -standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was -aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper -beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It -was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging -jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly -across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. -That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not -think that any burglar could have done. -

-“And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as -you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a -great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the -child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the -furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. -There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones -empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two -with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was -naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It -struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, -so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very -first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There -was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never -guess what it was. It was my coil of hair. -

-“I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, -and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing -obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in -the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the -contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two -tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was -it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at -all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, -and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that -I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had -locked. -

-“I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, -and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. -There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited -at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of -the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. -One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle -coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on -his face which made him a very different person to the round, -jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his -brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his -temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me -without a word or a look. -

-“This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the -grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I -could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four -of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the -fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I -strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle -came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever. -

-“ ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘you must not think me rude if I passed you -without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with -business matters.’ -

-“I assured him that I was not offended. ‘By the way,’ said I, -‘you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one -of them has the shutters up.’ -

-“He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled -at my remark. -

-“ ‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ said he. ‘I have made my -dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we -have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever -believed it?’ He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest -in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and -annoyance, but no jest. -

-“Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there -was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, -I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, -though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty—a -feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this -place. They talk of woman’s instinct; perhaps it was woman’s -instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, -and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the -forbidden door. -

-“It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, -besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to -do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large -black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been -drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when -I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at -all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both -downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an -admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, -opened the door, and slipped through. -

-“There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and -uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. -Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third -of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and -cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so -thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through -them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it -had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked -at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with -stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was -not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the -shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from -beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was -a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the -passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it -might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room -and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little -slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, -unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My -overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran—ran -as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the -skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, -and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting -outside. -

-“ ‘So,’ said he, smiling, ‘it was you, then. I thought that it -must be when I saw the door open.’ -

-“ ‘Oh, I am so frightened!’ I panted. -

-“ ‘My dear young lady! my dear young lady!’—you cannot think how -caressing and soothing his manner was—‘and what has frightened -you, my dear young lady?’ -

-“But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I -was keenly on my guard against him. -

-“ ‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. -‘But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was -frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in -there!’ -

-“ ‘Only that?’ said he, looking at me keenly. -

-“ ‘Why, what did you think?’ I asked. -

-“ ‘Why do you think that I lock this door?’ -

-“ ‘I am sure that I do not know.’ -

-“ ‘It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you -see?’ He was still smiling in the most amiable manner. -

-“ ‘I am sure if I had known—’ -

-“ ‘Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over -that threshold again’—here in an instant the smile hardened into -a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a -demon—‘I’ll throw you to the mastiff.’ -

-“I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that -I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing -until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I -thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without -some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the -woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible -to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of -course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was -almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would -send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the -office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then -returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my -mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I -remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of -insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one -in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, -or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and -lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. -I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this -morning, but I must be back before three o’clock, for Mr. and -Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the -evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you -all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you -could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should -do.” -

-Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. -My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in -his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon -his face. -

-“Is Toller still drunk?” he asked. -

-“Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do -nothing with him.” -

-“That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?” -

-“Yes.” -

-“Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?” -

-“Yes, the wine-cellar.” -

-“You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very -brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could -perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not -think you a quite exceptional woman.” -

-“I will try. What is it?” -

-“We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend -and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, -we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might -give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some -errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate -matters immensely.” -

-“I will do it.” -

-“Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of -course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been -brought there to personate someone, and the real person is -imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this -prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice -Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to -America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, -figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very -possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of -course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you -came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some -friend of hers—possibly her fiancé—and no doubt, as you wore -the girl’s dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your -laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, -that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer -desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent -him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly -clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of -the child.” -

-“What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated. -

-“My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining -light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the -parents. Don’t you see that the converse is equally valid. I have -frequently gained my first real insight into the character of -parents by studying their children. This child’s disposition is -abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty’s sake, and whether he -derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or -from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their -power.” -

-“I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A -thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you -have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to -this poor creature.” -

-“We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning -man. We can do nothing until seven o’clock. At that hour we shall -be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the -mystery.” -

-We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we -reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside -public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining -like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were -sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been -standing smiling on the door-step. -

-“Have you managed it?” asked Holmes. -

-A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is -Mrs. Toller in the cellar,” said she. “Her husband lies snoring -on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates -of Mr. Rucastle’s.” -

-“You have done well indeed!” cried Holmes with enthusiasm. “Now -lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black -business.” -

-We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a -passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss -Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the -transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but -without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence -Holmes’ face clouded over. -

-“I trust that we are not too late,” said he. “I think, Miss -Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put -your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our -way in.” -

-It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united -strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There -was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a -basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner -gone. -

-“There has been some villainy here,” said Holmes; “this beauty -has guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and has carried his victim -off.” -

-“But how?” -

-“Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it.” He -swung himself up onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “here’s the -end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did -it.” -

-“But it is impossible,” said Miss Hunter; “the ladder was not -there when the Rucastles went away.” -

-“He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and -dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were -he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it -would be as well for you to have your pistol ready.” -

-The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at -the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy -stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the -wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and -confronted him. -

-“You villain!” said he, “where’s your daughter?” -

-The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open -skylight. -

-“It is for me to ask you that,” he shrieked, “you thieves! Spies -and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I’ll -serve you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he -could go. -

-“He’s gone for the dog!” cried Miss Hunter. -

-“I have my revolver,” said I. -

-“Better close the front door,” cried Holmes, and we all rushed -down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we -heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a -horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An -elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out -at a side door. -

-“My God!” he cried. “Someone has loosed the dog. It’s not been -fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it’ll be too late!” -

-Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with -Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its -black muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and -screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and -it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great -creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and -carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid -him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered -Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to -relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door -opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room. -

-“Mrs. Toller!” cried Miss Hunter. -

-“Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he -went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn’t let me know -what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains -were wasted.” -

-“Ha!” said Holmes, looking keenly at her. “It is clear that Mrs. -Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.” -

-“Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.” -

-“Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several -points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.” -

-“I will soon make it clear to you,” said she; “and I’d have done -so before now if I could ha’ got out from the cellar. If there’s -police-court business over this, you’ll remember that I was the -one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice’s friend -too. -

-“She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn’t, from the time -that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no -say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until -after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend’s house. As well as I could -learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so -quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them -but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle’s hands. He knew he was -safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming -forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then -her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to -sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use -her money. When she wouldn’t do it, he kept on worrying her until -she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death’s door. Then -she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her -beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t make no change in her -young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.” -

-“Ah,” said Holmes, “I think that what you have been good enough -to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce -all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this -system of imprisonment?” -

-“Yes, sir.” -

-“And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of -the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler.” -

-“That was it, sir.” -

-“But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should -be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain -arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your -interests were the same as his.” -

-“Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman,” said -Mrs. Toller serenely. -

-“And in this way he managed that your good man should have no -want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment -when your master had gone out.” -

-“You have it, sir, just as it happened.” -

-“I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes, “for -you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And -here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, -Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, -as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a -questionable one.” -

-And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the -copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but -was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of -his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who -probably know so much of Rucastle’s past life that he finds it -difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were -married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their -flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in -the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend -Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further -interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one -of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at -Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success. -

-
-
- - diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e09ef42 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.html @@ -0,0 +1,248 @@ + + + + + Down the Rabbit-Hole + + + + +
+

Down the Rabbit-Hole

+

+ Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the + bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the + book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in + it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or + conversations?’ +

+

+ So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the + hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of + making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and + picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran + close by her. +

+

+ There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice + think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to + itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over + afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, + but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit + actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked + at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed + across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a + waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with + curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just + in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. +

+

+ In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how + in the world she was to get out again. +

+

+ The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then + dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think + about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep + well. +

+

+ Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had + plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was + going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what + she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked + at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with + cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures + hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she + passed; it was labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great + disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear + of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as + she fell past it. +

+

+ ‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall + think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at + home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top + of the house!’ (Which was very likely true.) +

+

+ Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! ‘I + wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I must + be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that + would be four thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice had + learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and + though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her + knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good + practice to say it over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right distance—but then + I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ (Alice had no idea + what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand + words to say.) +

+

+ Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right + through the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the + people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ + (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as + it didn’t sound at all the right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them + what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New + Zealand or Australia?’ (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy + curtseying as you’re falling through the air! Do you think you + could manage it?) ‘And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for + asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up + somewhere.’ +

+

+ Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began + talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ + (Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at + tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no + mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very + like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here Alice + began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy + sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and sometimes, ‘Do + bats eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer either question, it + didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing + off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with + Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: + did you ever eat a bat?’ when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon + a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. +

+

+ Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: + she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long + passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. + There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and + was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, ‘Oh my ears and + whiskers, how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind it when she + turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found + herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging + from the roof. +

+

+ There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when + Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every + door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to + get out again. +

+

+ Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid + glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s + first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; + but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, + but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second + time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and + behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the + little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! +

+

+ Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not + much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage + into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of + that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and + those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the + doorway; ‘and even if my head would go through,’ thought poor Alice, ‘it + would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could + shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.’ + For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that + Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really + impossible. +

+

+ There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went + back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at + any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this + time she found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here + before,’ said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper + label, with the words ‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large + letters. +

+

+ It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was + not going to do that in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she + said, ‘and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she + had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, + and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because + they would not remember the simple rules their friends had + taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it + too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a + knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink + much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree + with you, sooner or later. +

+

+ However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured + to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed + flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and + hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. +

+ 
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
+

+ ‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a + telescope.’ +

+

+ And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face + brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going + through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she + waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: + she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said + Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder + what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy what the flame of a + candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember + ever having seen such a thing. +

+

+ After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going + into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the + door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she + went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach + it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her + best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; + and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing + sat down and cried. +

+

+ ‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, + rather sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally + gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and + sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her + eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having + cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, + for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. + ‘But it’s no use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be two people! + Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable + person!’ +

+

+ Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: + she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words + ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said + Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it + makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll + get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ +

+

+ She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which + way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was + growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same + size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice + had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way + things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on + in the common way. +

+

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.

+ + 
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0362bd --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch01.md @@ -0,0 +1,206 @@ +--- +title: Down the Rabbit-Hole +class: story +--- + +## Down the Rabbit-Hole + +Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the +bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the +book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in +it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or +conversations?’ + +So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot +day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making +a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the +daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. + +There was nothing so _very_ remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so +_very_ much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh +dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred +to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all +seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually _took a watch out of +its waistcoat-pocket_, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started +to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen +a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and +burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately +was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge. + +In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in +the world she was to get out again. + +The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then +dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think +about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep +well. + +Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty +of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to +happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was +coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the +sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and +book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She +took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled +‘ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did +not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put +it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. + +‘Well!’ thought Alice to herself, ‘after such a fall as this, I shall +think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me at +home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of +the house!’ (Which was very likely true.) + +Down, down, down. Would the fall _never_ come to an end! ‘I wonder how many +miles I’ve fallen by this time?’ she said aloud. ‘I must be getting +somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four +thousand miles down, I think—’ (for, you see, Alice had learnt +several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though +this was not a _very_ good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as +there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it +over) ‘—yes, that’s about the right distance—but then I wonder +what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?’ (Alice had no idea what Latitude +was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) + +Presently she began again. ‘I wonder if I shall fall right _through_ the +earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with +their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—’ (she was rather +glad there _was_ no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all the +right word) ‘—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the +country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?’ +(and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy _curtseying_ as you’re +falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) ‘And what an +ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to +ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.’ + +Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began +talking again. ‘Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!’ +(Dinah was the cat.) ‘I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at +tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no +mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very +like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?’ And here Alice +began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy +sort of way, ‘Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?’ and sometimes, ‘Do bats +eat cats?’ for, you see, as she couldn’t answer either question, it didn’t +much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and +had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and +saying to her very earnestly, ‘Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever +eat a bat?’ when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of +sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. + +Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: +she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long +passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There +was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just +in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, +how late it’s getting!’ She was close behind it when she turned the +corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a +long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof. + +There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when +Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every +door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get +out again. + +Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid +glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s first +thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, +alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at +any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, +she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was +a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key +in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! + +Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much +larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into +the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark +hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool +fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; ‘and +even if my head would go through,’ thought poor Alice, ‘it would be of +very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like +a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.’ For, you see, +so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to +think that very few things indeed were really impossible. + +There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back +to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate +a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she +found a little bottle on it, (‘which certainly was not here before,’ said +Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words +‘DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large letters. + +It was all very well to say ‘Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not +going to do _that_ in a hurry. ‘No, I’ll look first,’ she said, ‘and see +whether it’s marked “_poison_” or not’; for she had read several nice little +histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts +and other unpleasant things, all because they _would_ not remember the +simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker +will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger +_very_ deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten +that, if you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost +certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. + +However, this bottle was _not_ marked ‘poison,’ so Alice ventured to taste +it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of +cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered +toast,) she very soon finished it off. + +
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
+ +‘What a curious feeling!’ said Alice; ‘I must be shutting up like a +telescope.’ + +And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face +brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going +through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she +waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: +she felt a little nervous about this; ‘for it might end, you know,’ said +Alice to herself, ‘in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder +what I should be like then?’ And she tried to fancy what the flame of a +candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember +ever having seen such a thing. + +After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going +into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the +door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went +back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she +could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to +climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when +she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and +cried. + +‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself, rather +sharply; ‘I advise you to leave off this minute!’ She generally gave +herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and +sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; +and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated +herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this +curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. ‘But it’s no +use now,’ thought poor Alice, ‘to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s +hardly enough of me left to make _one_ respectable person!’ + +Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: +she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT +ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, +‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me +grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the +garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ + +She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which +way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was +growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same +size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had +got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to +happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the +common way. + +So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. + + +
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c824ae0 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.html @@ -0,0 +1,237 @@ + + + + + The Pool of Tears + + + + +
+

The Pool of Tears

+

+ ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that + for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now I’m + opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!’ + (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of + sight, they were getting so far off). ‘Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder + who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m sure + I + shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself + about you: you must manage the best way you can;—but I must be kind to + them,’ thought Alice, ‘or perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to go! + Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.’ +

+

+ And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. ‘They must + go by the carrier,’ she thought; ‘and how funny it’ll seem, sending + presents to one’s own feet! And how odd the directions will look!’ +

+ 
     Alice’s Right Foot, Esq.
+       Hearthrug,
+         near The Fender,
+           (with Alice’s love).
+

Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!’

+

+ Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was + now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden + key and hurried off to the garden door. +

+

+ Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to + look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more + hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. +

+

+ ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like + you,’ (she might well say this), ‘to go on crying in this way! Stop this + moment, I tell you!’ But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of + tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches + deep and reaching half down the hall. +

+

+ After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and + she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White + Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in + one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great + hurry, muttering to himself as he came, ‘Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! + Oh! won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!’ Alice felt so + desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit + came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, ‘If you please, sir—’ + The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, + and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go. +

+

+ Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she + kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: ‘Dear, dear! How + queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. + I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same + when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a + little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in + the world am I? Ah, + that’s the great puzzle!’ And she began thinking over all the + children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she + could have been changed for any of them. +

+

+ ‘I’m sure I’m not Ada,’ she said, ‘for her hair goes in such long + ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t + be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a + very little! Besides, she’s she, and I’m I, and—oh + dear, how puzzling it all is! I’ll try if I know all the things I used + to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is + thirteen, and four times seven is—oh dear! I shall never get to twenty + at that rate! However, the Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s + try Geography. London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital + of Rome, and Rome—no, that’s all wrong, I’m certain! I must + have been changed for Mabel! I’ll try and say “How doth the little—”’ and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, + and began to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and + the words did not come the same as they used to do:— +

+ 
     ‘How doth the little crocodile
+      Improve his shining tail,
+     And pour the waters of the Nile
+      On every golden scale!
+
+     ’How cheerfully he seems to grin,
+      How neatly spread his claws,
+     And welcome little fishes in
+      With gently smiling jaws!’
+

+ ‘I’m sure those are not the right words,’ said poor Alice, and her eyes + filled with tears again as she went on, ‘I must be Mabel after all, and + I shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to + no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I’ve + made up my mind about it; if I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down here! It’ll be no + use their putting their heads down and saying “Come up again, dear!” I + shall only look up and say “Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, + if I like being that person, I’ll come up: if not, I’ll stay down here + till I’m somebody else”—but, oh dear!’ cried Alice, with a sudden burst + of tears, ‘I do wish they would put their heads down! I am so + very tired of being all alone here!’ +

+

+ As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see + that she had put on one of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves while + she was talking. ‘How can I have done that?’ she thought. ‘I + must be growing small again.’ She got up and went to the table to + measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she + was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she + soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and + she dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. +

+

+ ‘That was a narrow escape!’ said Alice, a good deal frightened + at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; + ‘and now for the garden!’ and she ran with all speed back to the little + door: but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden + key was lying on the glass table as before, ‘and things are worse than + ever,’ thought the poor child, ‘for I never was so small as this before, + never! And I declare it’s too bad, that it is!’ +

+

+ As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! + she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had + somehow fallen into the sea, ‘and in that case I can go back by + railway,’ she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in + her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go + to on the English coast you find a number of bathing machines in the + sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of + lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) However, she soon + made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she + was nine feet high. +

+

+ ‘I wish I hadn’t cried so much!’ said Alice, as she swam about, trying + to find her way out. ‘I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by + being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to + be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.’ +

+

+ Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way + off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought + it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small + she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had + slipped in like herself. +

+

+ ‘Would it be of any use, now,’ thought Alice, ‘to speak to this mouse? + Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very + likely it can talk: at any rate, there’s no harm in trying.’ So she + began: ‘O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired + of swimming about here, O Mouse!’ (Alice thought this must be the right + way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but + she remembered having seen in her brother’s Latin Grammar, ‘A mouse—of a + mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!’) The Mouse looked at her rather + inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, + but it said nothing. +

+

+ ‘Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,’ thought Alice; ‘I daresay it’s + a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.’ (For, with all + her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago + anything had happened.) So she began again: ‘Ou est ma chatte?’ which + was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a + sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. + ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt + the poor animal’s feelings. ‘I quite forgot you didn’t like cats.’ +

+

+ ‘Not like cats!’ cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. ‘Would + you like cats if you were me?’ +

+

+ ‘Well, perhaps not,’ said Alice in a soothing tone: ‘don’t be angry + about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d + take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet + thing,’ Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the + pool, ‘and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and + washing her face—and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse—and she’s + such a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your pardon!’ cried Alice + again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt + certain it must be really offended. ‘We won’t talk about her any more if + you’d rather not.’ +

+

+ ‘We indeed!’ cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his + tail. ‘As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always + hated cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the + name again!’ +

+

+ ‘I won’t indeed!’ said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of + conversation. ‘Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?’ The Mouse did not + answer, so Alice went on eagerly: ‘There is such a nice little dog near + our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you + know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll fetch things when + you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts + of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it belongs to a farmer, you + know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth a hundred pounds! He says + it kills all the rats and—oh dear!’ cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, + ‘I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!’ For the Mouse was swimming away + from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the + pool as it went. +

+

+ So she called softly after it, ‘Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we + won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!’ When the + Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face + was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low + trembling voice, ‘Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my + history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.’ +

+

+ It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the + birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, + a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the + way, and the whole party swam to the shore. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ad3e1b --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch02.md @@ -0,0 +1,205 @@ +--- +title: The Pool of Tears +class: story +--- + +## The Pool of Tears + +‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that +for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now I’m +opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!’ +(for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of +sight, they were getting so far off). ‘Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder +who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m sure _I_ +shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself +about you: you must manage the best way you can;—but I must be kind +to them,’ thought Alice, ‘or perhaps they won’t walk the way I want to go! +Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.’ + +And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. ‘They must go +by the carrier,’ she thought; ‘and how funny it’ll seem, sending presents +to one’s own feet! And how odd the directions will look!’ + +``` + Alice’s Right Foot, Esq. + Hearthrug, + near The Fender, + (with Alice’s love). +``` + +Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!’ + +Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was +now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden +key and hurried off to the garden door. + +Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to +look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more +hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. + +‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ said Alice, ‘a great girl like +you,’ (she might well say this), ‘to go on crying in this way! Stop this +moment, I tell you!’ But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of +tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep +and reaching half down the hall. + +After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she +hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit +returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand +and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, +muttering to himself as he came, ‘Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won’t +she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!’ Alice felt so desperate that she +was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she +began, in a low, timid voice, ‘If you please, sir—’ The Rabbit +started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried +away into the darkness as hard as he could go. + +Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she kept +fanning herself all the time she went on talking: ‘Dear, dear! How queer +everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder +if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got +up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. +But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, +_that’s_ the great puzzle!’ And she began thinking over all the children she +knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she could have been +changed for any of them. + +‘I’m sure I’m not Ada,’ she said, ‘for her hair goes in such long +ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t be +Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very +little! Besides, _she’s_ she, and _I’m_ I, and—oh dear, how puzzling it +all is! I’ll try if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: four +times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven +is—oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate! However, the +Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s try Geography. London is the +capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome—no, +_that’s_ all wrong, I’m certain! I must have been changed for Mabel! I’ll +try and say “_How doth the little_—”’ and she crossed her hands on her +lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice +sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the same as they +used to do:— + +``` + ‘How doth the little crocodile + Improve his shining tail, + And pour the waters of the Nile + On every golden scale! + + ’How cheerfully he seems to grin, + How neatly spread his claws, + And welcome little fishes in + With gently smiling jaws!’ +``` + +‘I’m sure those are not the right words,’ said poor Alice, and her eyes +filled with tears again as she went on, ‘I must be Mabel after all, and I +shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no +toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I’ve made up +my mind about it; if I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down here! It’ll be no use their +putting their heads down and saying “Come up again, dear!” I shall only +look up and say “Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like +being that person, I’ll come up: if not, I’ll stay down here till I’m +somebody else”—but, oh dear!’ cried Alice, with a sudden burst of +tears, ‘I do wish they _would_ put their heads down! I am so _very_ tired of +being all alone here!’ + +As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see +that she had put on one of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves while she +was talking. ‘How _can_ I have done that?’ she thought. ‘I must be growing +small again.’ She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, +and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet +high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out that the +cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped it hastily, +just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. + +‘That _was_ a narrow escape!’ said Alice, a good deal frightened at the +sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; ‘and now +for the garden!’ and she ran with all speed back to the little door: but, +alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying +on the glass table as before, ‘and things are worse than ever,’ thought +the poor child, ‘for I never was so small as this before, never! And I +declare it’s too bad, that it is!’ + +As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! +she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she had +somehow fallen into the sea, ‘and in that case I can go back by railway,’ +she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and +had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on the English +coast you find a number of bathing machines in the sea, some children +digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of lodging houses, and +behind them a railway station.) However, she soon made out that she was in +the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. + +‘I wish I hadn’t cried so much!’ said Alice, as she swam about, trying to +find her way out. ‘I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being +drowned in my own tears! That _will_ be a queer thing, to be sure! However, +everything is queer to-day.’ + +Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way +off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it +must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she +was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped +in like herself. + +‘Would it be of any use, now,’ thought Alice, ‘to speak to this mouse? +Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely +it can talk: at any rate, there’s no harm in trying.’ So she began: ‘O +Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming +about here, O Mouse!’ (Alice thought this must be the right way of +speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but she +remembered having seen in her brother’s Latin Grammar, ‘A mouse—of a +mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!’) The Mouse looked at +her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little +eyes, but it said nothing. + +‘Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,’ thought Alice; ‘I daresay it’s a +French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.’ (For, with all her +knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything +had happened.) So she began again: ‘Ou est ma chatte?’ which was the first +sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of +the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. ‘Oh, I beg your +pardon!’ cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal’s +feelings. ‘I quite forgot you didn’t like cats.’ + +‘Not like cats!’ cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. ‘Would +_you_ like cats if you were me?’ + +‘Well, perhaps not,’ said Alice in a soothing tone: ‘don’t be angry about +it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d take a +fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet thing,’ +Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, ‘and +she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her +face—and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse—and she’s such +a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your pardon!’ cried Alice +again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she felt +certain it must be really offended. ‘We won’t talk about her any more if +you’d rather not.’ + +‘We indeed!’ cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his +tail. ‘As if _I_ would talk on such a subject! Our family always _hated_ cats: +nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name again!’ + +‘I won’t indeed!’ said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of +conversation. ‘Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?’ The +Mouse did not answer, so Alice went on eagerly: ‘There is such a nice +little dog near our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed +terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll fetch +things when you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its dinner, and +all sorts of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it +belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth a +hundred pounds! He says it kills all the rats and—oh dear!’ cried +Alice in a sorrowful tone, ‘I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!’ For the +Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite +a commotion in the pool as it went. + +So she called softly after it, ‘Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we +won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!’ When the +Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face +was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low +trembling voice, ‘Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my +history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.’ + +It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the +birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, a +Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the +way, and the whole party swam to the shore. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..00899f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.html @@ -0,0 +1,289 @@ + + + + + A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale + + + + +
+

A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale

+

+ They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the + birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close + to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. +

+

+ The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a + consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural + to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had + known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the + Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, ‘I am older than + you, and must know better’; and this Alice would not allow without + knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its + age, there was no more to be said. +

+

+ At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, + called out, ‘Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I’ll soon + make you dry enough!’ They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with + the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for + she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very + soon. +

+

+ ‘Ahem!’ said the Mouse with an important air, ‘are you all ready? This + is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! “William + the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted + to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much + accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of + Mercia and Northumbria—”’ +

+

‘Ugh!’ said the Lory, with a shiver.

+

+ ‘I beg your pardon!’ said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: ‘Did + you speak?’ +

+

‘Not I!’ said the Lory hastily.

+

+ ‘I thought you did,’ said the Mouse. ‘—I proceed. “Edwin and Morcar, the + earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, the + patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—”’ +

+

‘Found what?’ said the Duck.

+

+ ‘Found it,’ the Mouse replied rather crossly: ‘of course you + know what “it” means.’ +

+

+ ‘I know what “it” means well enough, when I find a thing,’ said + the Duck: ‘it’s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did + the archbishop find?’ +

+

+ The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, ‘“—found + it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the + crown. William’s conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his + Normans—” How are you getting on now, my dear?’ it continued, turning to + Alice as it spoke. +

+

+ ‘As wet as ever,’ said Alice in a melancholy tone: ‘it doesn’t seem to + dry me at all.’ +

+

+ ‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move that + the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic + remedies—’ +

+

+ ‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half + those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ And + the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds + tittered audibly. +

+

+ ‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that + the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’ +

+

+ ‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much + to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that + somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say + anything. +

+

+ ‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as + you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell + you how the Dodo managed it.) +

+

+ First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact + shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed + along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and + away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they + liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, + when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, + the Dodo suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded + round it, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’ +

+

+ This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, + and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead + (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of + him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘Everybody + has won, and all must have prizes.’ +

+

‘But who is to give the prizes?’ quite a chorus of voices asked.

+

+ ‘Why, she, of course,’ said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with + one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out + in a confused way, ‘Prizes! Prizes!’ +

+

+ Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her + pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not + got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one + a-piece all round. +

+

‘But she must have a prize herself, you know,’ said the Mouse.

+

+ ‘Of course,’ the Dodo replied very gravely. ‘What else have you got in + your pocket?’ he went on, turning to Alice. +

+

‘Only a thimble,’ said Alice sadly.

+

‘Hand it over here,’ said the Dodo.

+

+ Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly + presented the thimble, saying ‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant + thimble’; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. +

+

+ Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave + that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything + to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she + could. +

+

+ The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and + confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste + theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. + However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and + begged the Mouse to tell them something more. +

+

+ ‘You promised to tell me your history, you know,’ said Alice, ‘and why + it is you hate—C and D,’ she added in a whisper, half afraid that it + would be offended again. +

+

+ ‘Mine is a long and a sad tale!’ said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and + sighing. +

+

+ ‘It is a long tail, certainly,’ said Alice, looking down with + wonder at the Mouse’s tail; ‘but why do you call it sad?’ And she kept + on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of + the tale was something like this:— +

+ + 
+      ‘Fury said to a
+      mouse, That he
+    met in the
+    house,
+  “Let us
+  both go to
+    law: I will
+    prosecute
+      you.—Come,
+        I’ll take no
+        denial; We
+      must have a
+    trial: For
+  really this
+  morning I’ve
+nothing
+to do.”
+  Said the
+  mouse to the
+    cur, “Such
+    a trial,
+      dear Sir,
+        With
+      no jury
+    or judge,
+    would be
+  wasting
+  our
+  breath.”
+    “I’ll be
+    judge, I’ll
+      be jury,”
+        Said
+      cunning
+      old Fury:
+      “I’ll
+      try the
+        whole
+        cause,
+          and
+        condemn
+        you
+      to
+        death.”’
+
+

+ ‘You are not attending!’ said the Mouse to Alice severely. ‘What are you + thinking of?’ +

+

+ ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Alice very humbly: ‘you had got to the fifth + bend, I think?’ +

+

‘I had not!’ cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.

+

+ ‘A knot!’ said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking + anxiously about her. ‘Oh, do let me help to undo it!’ +

+

+ ‘I shall do nothing of the sort,’ said the Mouse, getting up and walking + away. ‘You insult me by talking such nonsense!’ +

+

+ ‘I didn’t mean it!’ pleaded poor Alice. ‘But you’re so easily offended, + you know!’ +

+

The Mouse only growled in reply.

+

+ ‘Please come back and finish your story!’ Alice called after it; and the + others all joined in chorus, ‘Yes, please do!’ but the Mouse only shook + its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. +

+

+ ‘What a pity it wouldn’t stay!’ sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite + out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her + daughter ‘Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose + your + temper!’ ’Hold your tongue, Ma!’ said the young Crab, a little + snappishly. ‘You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!’ +

+

+ ‘I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!’ said Alice aloud, addressing + nobody in particular. ‘She’d soon fetch it back!’ +

+

+ ‘And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?’ said the + Lory. +

+

+ Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: + ‘Dinah’s our cat. And she’s such a capital one for catching mice you + can’t think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, + she’ll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!’ +

+

+ This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the + birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very + carefully, remarking, ‘I really must be getting home; the night-air + doesn’t suit my throat!’ and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to + its children, ‘Come away, my dears! It’s high time you were all in bed!’ + On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone. +

+

+ ‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!’ she said to herself in a melancholy + tone. ‘Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I’m sure she’s the best + cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you + any more!’ And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very + lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a + little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up + eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming + back to finish his story. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..287fa28 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch03.md @@ -0,0 +1,244 @@ +--- +title: A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale +class: story +--- + +## A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale + +They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the +birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to +them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. + +The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a +consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural +to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known +them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the Lory, +who at last turned sulky, and would only say, ‘I am older than you, and +must know better’; and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old +it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no +more to be said. + +At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, +called out, ‘Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _I’ll_ soon make you +dry enough!’ They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in +the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure +she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. + +‘Ahem!’ said the Mouse with an important air, ‘are you all ready? This is +the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! “William the +Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by +the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to +usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and +Northumbria—”’ + +‘Ugh!’ said the Lory, with a shiver. + +‘I beg your pardon!’ said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: ‘Did you +speak?’ + +‘Not I!’ said the Lory hastily. + +‘I thought you did,’ said the Mouse. ‘—I proceed. “Edwin and Morcar, +the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, +the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—”’ + +‘Found _what_?’ said the Duck. + +‘Found _it_,’ the Mouse replied rather crossly: ‘of course you know what +“it” means.’ + +‘I know what “it” means well enough, when _I_ find a thing,’ said the Duck: +‘it’s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop +find?’ + +The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, ‘“—found +it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the +crown. William’s conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his +Normans—” How are you getting on now, my dear?’ it continued, +turning to Alice as it spoke. + +‘As wet as ever,’ said Alice in a melancholy tone: ‘it doesn’t seem to dry +me at all.’ + +‘In that case,’ said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, ‘I move that +the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies—’ + +‘Speak English!’ said the Eaglet. ‘I don’t know the meaning of half those +long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!’ And the +Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds +tittered audibly. + +‘What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that +the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’ + +‘What _is_ a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but +the Dodo had paused as if it thought that _somebody_ ought to speak, and no +one else seemed inclined to say anything. + +‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as +you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you +how the Dodo managed it.) + +First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape +doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the +course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they +began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it +was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been +running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly +called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round it, panting, and +asking, ‘But who has won?’ + +This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, +and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the +position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), +while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘_Everybody_ has +won, and all must have prizes.’ + +‘But who is to give the prizes?’ quite a chorus of voices asked. + +‘Why, _she_, of course,’ said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; +and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused +way, ‘Prizes! Prizes!’ + +Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her +pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not +got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one +a-piece all round. + +‘But she must have a prize herself, you know,’ said the Mouse. + +‘Of course,’ the Dodo replied very gravely. ‘What else have you got in +your pocket?’ he went on, turning to Alice. + +‘Only a thimble,’ said Alice sadly. + +‘Hand it over here,’ said the Dodo. + +Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly +presented the thimble, saying ‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant +thimble’; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. + +Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave +that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to +say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she +could. + +The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and +confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, +and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it +was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse +to tell them something more. + +‘You promised to tell me your history, you know,’ said Alice, ‘and why it +is you hate—C and D,’ she added in a whisper, half afraid that it +would be offended again. + +‘Mine is a long and a sad tale!’ said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and +sighing. + +‘It _is_ a long tail, certainly,’ said Alice, looking down with wonder at +the Mouse’s tail; ‘but why do you call it sad?’ And she kept on puzzling +about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was +something like this:— + + +
      ‘Fury said to a
+      mouse, That he
+    met in the
+    house,
+  “Let us
+  both go to
+    law: I will
+    prosecute
+      you.—Come,
+        I’ll take no
+        denial; We
+      must have a
+    trial: For
+  really this
+  morning I’ve
+nothing
+to do.”
+  Said the
+  mouse to the
+    cur, “Such
+    a trial,
+      dear Sir,
+        With
+      no jury
+    or judge,
+    would be
+  wasting
+  our
+  breath.”
+    “I’ll be
+    judge, I’ll
+      be jury,”
+        Said
+      cunning
+      old Fury:
+      “I’ll
+      try the
+        whole
+        cause,
+          and
+        condemn
+        you
+      to
+        death.”’
+
+ +‘You are not attending!’ said the Mouse to Alice severely. ‘What are you +thinking of?’ + +‘I beg your pardon,’ said Alice very humbly: ‘you had got to the fifth +bend, I think?’ + +‘I had _not_!’ cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily. + +‘A knot!’ said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking +anxiously about her. ‘Oh, do let me help to undo it!’ + +‘I shall do nothing of the sort,’ said the Mouse, getting up and walking +away. ‘You insult me by talking such nonsense!’ + +‘I didn’t mean it!’ pleaded poor Alice. ‘But you’re so easily offended, +you know!’ + +The Mouse only growled in reply. + +‘Please come back and finish your story!’ Alice called after it; and the +others all joined in chorus, ‘Yes, please do!’ but the Mouse only shook +its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. + +‘What a pity it wouldn’t stay!’ sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite +out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her +daughter ‘Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose _your_ +temper!’ ’Hold your tongue, Ma!’ said the young Crab, a little snappishly. +‘You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!’ + +‘I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!’ said Alice aloud, addressing +nobody in particular. ‘She’d soon fetch it back!’ + +‘And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?’ said the Lory. + +Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: +‘Dinah’s our cat. And she’s such a capital one for catching mice you can’t +think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, she’ll eat a +little bird as soon as look at it!’ + +This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the +birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very +carefully, remarking, ‘I really must be getting home; the night-air +doesn’t suit my throat!’ and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to +its children, ‘Come away, my dears! It’s high time you were all in bed!’ +On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone. + +‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!’ she said to herself in a melancholy +tone. ‘Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I’m sure she’s the best +cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you any +more!’ And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely +and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little +pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half +hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish +his story. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7df1e9f --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.html @@ -0,0 +1,311 @@ + + + + + The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill + + + + +
+

The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill

+

+ It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking + anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard + it muttering to itself ‘The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my + fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are + ferrets! Where + can I have dropped them, I wonder?’ Alice guessed in a moment + that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and + she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were + nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in + the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, + had vanished completely. +

+

+ Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and + called out to her in an angry tone, ‘Why, Mary Ann, what + are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a + pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!’ And Alice was so much frightened + that she ran off at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying + to explain the mistake it had made. +

+

+ ‘He took me for his housemaid,’ she said to herself as she ran. ‘How + surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him + his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.’ As she said this, she + came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass + plate with the name ‘W. RABBIT’ engraved upon it. She went in without + knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the + real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the + fan and gloves. +

+

+ ‘How queer it seems,’ Alice said to herself, ‘to be going messages for a + rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on messages next!’ And she + began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: ‘“Miss Alice! Come + here directly, and get ready for your walk!” “Coming in a minute, nurse! + But I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.” Only I don’t + think,’ Alice went on, ‘that they’d let Dinah stop in the house if it + began ordering people about like that!’ +

+

+ By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table + in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs + of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, + and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little + bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time + with the words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it + to her lips. ‘I know something interesting is sure to happen,’ + she said to herself, ‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see + what this bottle does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for + really I’m quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!’ +

+

+ It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had + drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, + and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put + down the bottle, saying to herself ‘That’s quite enough—I hope I shan’t + grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do wish I hadn’t + drunk quite so much!’ +

+

+ Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, + and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there + was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with + one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. + Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out + of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself ‘Now I + can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?’ +

+

+ Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, + and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there + seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room + again, no wonder she felt unhappy. +

+

+ ‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t + always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and + rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and + yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what + can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I + fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the + middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there + ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,’ she + added in a sorrowful tone; ‘at least there’s no room to grow up any more + here.’ +

+

+ ‘But then,’ thought Alice, ‘shall I never get any older than I + am now? That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but + then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like + that!’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, you foolish Alice!’ she answered herself. ‘How can you learn + lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for you, and no room + at all for any lesson-books!’ +

+

+ And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making + quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard + a voice outside, and stopped to listen. +

+

+ ‘Mary Ann! Mary Ann!’ said the voice. ‘Fetch me my gloves this moment!’ + Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was + the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the + house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large + as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. +

+

+ Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as + the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard against it, + that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself ‘Then I’ll + go round and get in at the window.’ +

+

+ ‘That you won’t’ thought Alice, and, after waiting till she + fancied she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread + out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of + anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of + broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had + fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. +

+

+ Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—‘Pat! Pat! Where are you?’ And + then a voice she had never heard before, ‘Sure then I’m here! Digging + for apples, yer honour!’ +

+

+ ‘Digging for apples, indeed!’ said the Rabbit angrily. ‘Here! Come and + help me out of this!’ (Sounds of more broken glass.) +

+

‘Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?’

+

‘Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!’ (He pronounced it ‘arrum.’)

+

+ ‘An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole + window!’ +

+

‘Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.’

+

+ ‘Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!’ +

+

+ There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers + now and then; such as, ‘Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at all, at + all!’ ’Do as I tell you, you coward!’ and at last she spread out her + hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were + two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. ‘What a + number of cucumber-frames there must be!’ thought Alice. ‘I wonder what + they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they + could! I’m sure I don’t want to stay in here any + longer!’ +

+

+ She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a + rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all + talking together: she made out the words: ‘Where’s the other + ladder?—Why, I hadn’t to bring but one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! fetch + it here, lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No, tie ’em together + first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do well enough; + don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will the roof + bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! Heads below!’ (a loud + crash)—‘Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I fancy—Who’s to go down the + chimney?—Nay, I shan’t! You do it!—That I + won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill! the master says you’re to go + down the chimney!’ +

+

+ ‘Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?’ said Alice to + herself. ‘Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in + Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but + I + think I can kick a little!’ +

+

+ She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till + she heard a little animal (she couldn’t guess of what sort it was) + scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, + saying to herself ‘This is Bill,’ she gave one sharp kick, and waited to + see what would happen next. +

+

+ The first thing she heard was a general chorus of ‘There goes Bill!’ + then the Rabbit’s voice along—‘Catch him, you by the hedge!’ then + silence, and then another confusion of voices—‘Hold up his head—Brandy + now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell + us all about it!’ +

+

+ Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (‘That’s Bill,’ thought + Alice,) ‘Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but I’m a + deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me like + a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!’ +

+

‘So you did, old fellow!’ said the others.

+

+ ‘We must burn the house down!’ said the Rabbit’s voice; and Alice called + out as loud as she could, ‘If you do. I’ll set Dinah at you!’ +

+

+ There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, ‘I + wonder what they will do next! If they had any sense, they’d + take the roof off.’ After a minute or two, they began moving about + again, and Alice heard the Rabbit say, ‘A barrowful will do, to begin + with.’ +

+

+ ‘A barrowful of what?’ thought Alice; but she had not long to + doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in + at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. ‘I’ll put a stop to + this,’ she said to herself, and shouted out, ‘You’d better not do that + again!’ which produced another dead silence. +

+

+ Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into + little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her + head. ‘If I eat one of these cakes,’ she thought, ‘it’s sure to make + some + change in my size; and as it can’t possibly make me larger, it must make + me smaller, I suppose.’ +

+

+ So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she + began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through + the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little + animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in + the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it + something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she + appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself + safe in a thick wood. +

+

+ ‘The first thing I’ve got to do,’ said Alice to herself, as she wandered + about in the wood, ‘is to grow to my right size again; and the second + thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be + the best plan.’ +

+

+ It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply + arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea + how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among the + trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a + great hurry. +

+

+ An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and + feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. ‘Poor little thing!’ + said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but + she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be + hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of + all her coaxing. +

+

+ Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and + held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off + all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, + and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, + to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the + other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head + over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was + very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every + moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then + the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very + little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely + all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with + its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. +

+

+ This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she + set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and + till the puppy’s bark sounded quite faint in the distance. +

+

+ ‘And yet what a dear little puppy it was!’ said Alice, as she leant + against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the + leaves: ‘I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I’d + only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten that + I’ve got to grow up again! Let me see—how is it to be managed? + I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great + question is, what?’ +

+

+ The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at + the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that + looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. + There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as + herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and + behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what + was on the top of it. +

+

+ She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the + mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, + that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long + hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..75c65b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch04.md @@ -0,0 +1,262 @@ +--- +title: The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill +class: story +--- + +## The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill + +It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously +about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering +to itself ‘The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and +whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where +_can_ I have dropped them, I wonder?’ Alice guessed in a moment that it was +looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very +good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be +seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, +and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished +completely. + +Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and called +out to her in an angry tone, ‘Why, Mary Ann, what _are_ you doing out here? +Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, +now!’ And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the +direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had +made. + +‘He took me for his housemaid,’ she said to herself as she ran. ‘How +surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him his +fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.’ As she said this, she +came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass +plate with the name ‘W. RABBIT’ engraved upon it. She went in without +knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the +real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan +and gloves. + +‘How queer it seems,’ Alice said to herself, ‘to be going messages for a +rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on messages next!’ And she began +fancying the sort of thing that would happen: ‘“Miss Alice! Come here +directly, and get ready for your walk!” “Coming in a minute, nurse! But +I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.” Only I don’t think,’ +Alice went on, ‘that they’d let Dinah stop in the house if it began +ordering people about like that!’ + +By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in +the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of +tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and +was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle +that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the +words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. +‘I know _something_ interesting is sure to happen,’ she said to herself, +‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see what this bottle does. +I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really I’m quite tired of +being such a tiny little thing!’ + +It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had +drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, +and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down +the bottle, saying to herself ‘That’s quite enough—I hope I shan’t +grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do wish +I hadn’t drunk quite so much!’ + +Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and +very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not +even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow +against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went +on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, +and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself ‘Now I can do no more, +whatever happens. What _will_ become of me?’ + +Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, +and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there +seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, +no wonder she felt unhappy. + +‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t +always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and +rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and +yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder +what _can_ have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied +that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! +There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I +grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,’ she added in a +sorrowful tone; ‘at least there’s no room to grow up any more _here_.’ + +‘But then,’ thought Alice, ‘shall I _never_ get any older than I am now? +That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but +then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like _that_!’ + +‘Oh, you foolish Alice!’ she answered herself. ‘How can you learn lessons +in here? Why, there’s hardly room for _you_, and no room at all for any +lesson-books!’ + +And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making +quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a +voice outside, and stopped to listen. + +‘Mary Ann! Mary Ann!’ said the voice. ‘Fetch me my gloves this moment!’ +Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the +Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, +quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the +Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. + +Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as +the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard against it, +that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself ‘Then I’ll go +round and get in at the window.’ + +‘_That_ you won’t’ thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she +heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, +and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she +heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which +she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a +cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. + +Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—‘Pat! Pat! Where are +you?’ And then a voice she had never heard before, ‘Sure then I’m here! +Digging for apples, yer honour!’ + +‘Digging for apples, indeed!’ said the Rabbit angrily. ‘Here! Come and +help me out of _this_!’ (Sounds of more broken glass.) + +‘Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?’ + +‘Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!’ (He pronounced it ‘arrum.’) + +‘An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole +window!’ + +‘Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.’ + +‘Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!’ + +There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers +now and then; such as, ‘Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at all, at +all!’ ’Do as I tell you, you coward!’ and at last she spread out her hand +again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were _two_ little +shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. ‘What a number of +cucumber-frames there must be!’ thought Alice. ‘I wonder what they’ll do +next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they _could_! I’m +sure _I_ don’t want to stay in here any longer!’ + +She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a +rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all +talking together: she made out the words: ‘Where’s the other ladder?—Why, +I hadn’t to bring but one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! fetch it here, +lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No, tie ’em together +first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do +well enough; don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will +the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! +Heads below!’ (a loud crash)—‘Now, who did that?—It was Bill, +I fancy—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, _I_ shan’t! _You_ do +it!—_That_ I won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill! +the master says you’re to go down the chimney!’ + +‘Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?’ said Alice to +herself. ‘Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in +Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but I +_think_ I can kick a little!’ + +She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till +she heard a little animal (she couldn’t guess of what sort it was) +scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, +saying to herself ‘This is Bill,’ she gave one sharp kick, and waited to +see what would happen next. + +The first thing she heard was a general chorus of ‘There goes Bill!’ then +the Rabbit’s voice along—‘Catch him, you by the hedge!’ then +silence, and then another confusion of voices—‘Hold up his head—Brandy +now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to +you? Tell us all about it!’ + +Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (‘That’s Bill,’ thought +Alice,) ‘Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but +I’m a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes +at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!’ + +‘So you did, old fellow!’ said the others. + +‘We must burn the house down!’ said the Rabbit’s voice; and Alice called +out as loud as she could, ‘If you do. I’ll set Dinah at you!’ + +There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, ‘I +wonder what they _will_ do next! If they had any sense, they’d take the roof +off.’ After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and Alice +heard the Rabbit say, ‘A barrowful will do, to begin with.’ + +‘A barrowful of _what_?’ thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, for +the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, +and some of them hit her in the face. ‘I’ll put a stop to this,’ she said +to herself, and shouted out, ‘You’d better not do that again!’ which +produced another dead silence. + +Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into +little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her +head. ‘If I eat one of these cakes,’ she thought, ‘it’s sure to make _some_ +change in my size; and as it can’t possibly make me larger, it must make +me smaller, I suppose.’ + +So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she +began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through +the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little +animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in +the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something +out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared; +but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a +thick wood. + +‘The first thing I’ve got to do,’ said Alice to herself, as she wandered +about in the wood, ‘is to grow to my right size again; and the second +thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the +best plan.’ + +It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply +arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how +to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among the +trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great +hurry. + +An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and +feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. ‘Poor little thing!’ +said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but +she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be +hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of +all her coaxing. + +Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held +it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its +feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made +believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep +herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the other +side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over +heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was very +like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment +to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy +began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way +forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the +while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue +hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. + +This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she set +off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till +the puppy’s bark sounded quite faint in the distance. + +‘And yet what a dear little puppy it was!’ said Alice, as she leant +against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the +leaves: ‘I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I’d +only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten that I’ve +got to grow up again! Let me see—how _is_ it to be managed? I suppose +I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, +what?’ + +The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at the +flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that looked +like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a +large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and +when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it +occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of +it. + +She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the +mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, that +was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long +hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fd77ec --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.html @@ -0,0 +1,341 @@ + + + + + Advice from a Caterpillar + + + + +
+

Advice from a Caterpillar

+

+ The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: + at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed + her in a languid, sleepy voice. +

+

‘Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, + rather shyly, ‘I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know who + I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been + changed several times since then.’ +

+

+ ‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain + yourself!’ +

+

+ ‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because + I’m not myself, you see.’ +

+

‘I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, + ‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many + different sizes in a day is very confusing.’ +

+

‘It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you + have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then after + that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, + won’t you?’ +

+

‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I know + is, it would feel very queer to me.’ +

+

‘You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. ‘Who are you?’

+

+ Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. + Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar’s making such + very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very + gravely, ‘I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.’ +

+

‘Why?’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any + good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a + very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. +

+

+ ‘Come back!’ the Caterpillar called after her. ‘I’ve something important + to say!’ +

+

+ This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. +

+

‘Keep your temper,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she + could. +

+

‘No,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and + perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some + minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its + arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, ‘So you think + you’re changed, do you?’ +

+

+ ‘I’m afraid I am, sir,’ said Alice; ‘I can’t remember things as I + used—and I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!’ +

+

‘Can’t remember what things?’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all came + different!’ Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. +

+

+ ‘Repeat, “You are old, Father William,”’ said the Caterpillar. +

+

Alice folded her hands, and began:—

+ 
   ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said,
+    ‘And your hair has become very white;
+   And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
+    Do you think, at your age, it is right?’
+
+   ‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son,
+    ‘I feared it might injure the brain;
+   But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
+    Why, I do it again and again.’
+
+   ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before,
+    And have grown most uncommonly fat;
+   Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
+    Pray, what is the reason of that?’
+
+   ‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
+    ‘I kept all my limbs very supple
+   By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
+    Allow me to sell you a couple?’
+
+   ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak
+    For anything tougher than suet;
+   Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
+    Pray how did you manage to do it?’
+
+   ‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law,
+    And argued each case with my wife;
+   And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
+    Has lasted the rest of my life.’
+
+   ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose
+    That your eye was as steady as ever;
+   Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
+    What made you so awfully clever?’
+
+   ‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’
+    Said his father; ‘don’t give yourself airs!
+   Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
+    Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’
+

‘That is not said right,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Not quite right, I’m afraid,’ said Alice, timidly; ‘some of + the words have got altered.’ +

+

+ ‘It is wrong from beginning to end,’ said the Caterpillar decidedly, and + there was silence for some minutes. +

+

The Caterpillar was the first to speak.

+

‘What size do you want to be?’ it asked.

+

+ ‘Oh, I’m not particular as to size,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘only one + doesn’t like changing so often, you know.’ +

+

‘I don’t know,’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life + before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. +

+

‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar.

+

+ ‘Well, I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you + wouldn’t mind,’ said Alice: ‘three inches is such a wretched height to + be.’ +

+

+ ‘It is a very good height indeed!’ said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing + itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). +

+

+ ‘But I’m not used to it!’ pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she + thought of herself, ‘I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily + offended!’ +

+

+ ‘You’ll get used to it in time,’ said the Caterpillar; and it put the + hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. +

+

+ This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a + minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and + yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the + mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, + ‘One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you + grow shorter.’ +

+

+ ‘One side of what? The other side of what?’ thought + Alice to herself. +

+

+ ‘Of the mushroom,’ said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it + aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. +

+

+ Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying + to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly + round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she + stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit + of the edge with each hand. +

+

+ ‘And now which is which?’ she said to herself, and nibbled a little of + the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent + blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! +

+

+ She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt + that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she + set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed + so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her + mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the + lefthand bit. +

+ 
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
+

+ ‘Come, my head’s free at last!’ said Alice in a tone of delight, which + changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders + were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was + an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a + sea of green leaves that lay far below her. +

+

+ ‘What can all that green stuff be?’ said Alice. ‘And where + have my shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I + can’t see you?’ She was moving them about as she spoke, but no result + seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green + leaves. +

+

+ As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she + tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her + neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had + just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going + to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops + of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made + her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and + was beating her violently with its wings. +

+

‘Serpent!’ screamed the Pigeon.

+

+ ‘I’m not a serpent!’ said Alice indignantly. ‘Let me alone!’ +

+

+ ‘Serpent, I say again!’ repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, + and added with a kind of sob, ‘I’ve tried every way, and nothing seems + to suit them!’ +

+

‘I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried + hedges,’ the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; ‘but those + serpents! There’s no pleasing them!’ +

+

+ Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in + saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. +

+

+ ‘As if it wasn’t trouble enough hatching the eggs,’ said the Pigeon; + ‘but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I + haven’t had a wink of sleep these three weeks!’ +

+

+ ‘I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,’ said Alice, who was beginning to + see its meaning. +

+

+ ‘And just as I’d taken the highest tree in the wood,’ continued the + Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, ‘and just as I was thinking I + should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from + the sky! Ugh, Serpent!’ +

+

+ ‘But I’m not a serpent, I tell you!’ said Alice. ‘I’m a—I’m a—’ +

+

+ ‘Well! What are you?’ said the Pigeon. ‘I can see you’re trying + to invent something!’ +

+

+ ‘I—I’m a little girl,’ said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered + the number of changes she had gone through that day. +

+

+ ‘A likely story indeed!’ said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest + contempt. ‘I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never + one + with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s no use + denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never tasted an + egg!’ +

+

+ ‘I have tasted eggs, certainly,’ said Alice, who was a very + truthful child; ‘but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, + you know.’ +

+

+ ‘I don’t believe it,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but if they do, why then they’re + a kind of serpent, that’s all I can say.’ +

+

+ This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a + minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, ‘You’re + looking for eggs, I know that well enough; and what does it + matter to me whether you’re a little girl or a serpent?’ +

+

+ ‘It matters a good deal to me,’ said Alice hastily; ‘but I’m + not looking for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn’t want + yours: I don’t like them raw.’ +

+

+ ‘Well, be off, then!’ said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled + down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as + she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and + every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she + remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and + she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the + other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had + succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. +

+

+ It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it + felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, + and began talking to herself, as usual. ‘Come, there’s half my plan done + now! How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going + to be, from one minute to another! However, I’ve got back to my right + size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how + is that to be done, I wonder?’ As she said this, she came + suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet + high. ‘Whoever lives there,’ thought Alice, ‘it’ll never do to come upon + them this size: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!’ + So she began nibbling at the righthand bit again, and did not venture to + go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57bfe28 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch05.md @@ -0,0 +1,292 @@ +--- +title: Advice from a Caterpillar +class: story +--- + +## Advice from a Caterpillar + +The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: +at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed +her in a languid, sleepy voice. + +‘Who are _you_?’ said the Caterpillar. + +This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, +rather shyly, ‘I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least +I know who I _was_ when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been +changed several times since then.’ + +‘What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. ‘Explain +yourself!’ + +‘I can’t explain _myself_, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, ‘because I’m not +myself, you see.’ + +‘I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, +‘for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many +different sizes in a day is very confusing.’ + +‘It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; ‘but when you +have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and +then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little +queer, won’t you?’ + +‘Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; ‘all I know +is, it would feel very queer to _me_.’ + +‘You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. ‘Who are _you_?’ + +Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice +felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar’s making such _very_ short +remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, ‘I think, you +ought to tell me who _you_ are, first.’ + +‘Why?’ said the Caterpillar. + +Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any +good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ unpleasant +state of mind, she turned away. + +‘Come back!’ the Caterpillar called after her. ‘I’ve something important +to say!’ + +This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. + +‘Keep your temper,’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Is that all?’ said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. + +‘No,’ said the Caterpillar. + +Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and +perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some +minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, +took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, ‘So you think you’re +changed, do you?’ + +‘I’m afraid I am, sir,’ said Alice; ‘I can’t remember things as I used—and +I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!’ + +‘Can’t remember _what_ things?’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all came +different!’ Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. + +‘Repeat, “_You are old, Father William_,”’ said the Caterpillar. + +Alice folded her hands, and began:— + +``` + ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said, + ‘And your hair has become very white; + And yet you incessantly stand on your head— + Do you think, at your age, it is right?’ + + ‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son, + ‘I feared it might injure the brain; + But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, + Why, I do it again and again.’ + + ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before, + And have grown most uncommonly fat; + Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door— + Pray, what is the reason of that?’ + + ‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, + ‘I kept all my limbs very supple + By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box— + Allow me to sell you a couple?’ + + ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak + For anything tougher than suet; + Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak— + Pray how did you manage to do it?’ + + ‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law, + And argued each case with my wife; + And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, + Has lasted the rest of my life.’ + + ‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose + That your eye was as steady as ever; + Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose— + What made you so awfully clever?’ + + ‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’ + Said his father; ‘don’t give yourself airs! + Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? + Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!’ +``` + +‘That is not said right,’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Not _quite_ right, I’m afraid,’ said Alice, timidly; ‘some of the words +have got altered.’ + +‘It is wrong from beginning to end,’ said the Caterpillar decidedly, and +there was silence for some minutes. + +The Caterpillar was the first to speak. + +‘What size do you want to be?’ it asked. + +‘Oh, I’m not particular as to size,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘only one +doesn’t like changing so often, you know.’ + +‘I _don’t_ know,’ said the Caterpillar. + +Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life +before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. + +‘Are you content now?’ said the Caterpillar. + +‘Well, I should like to be a _little_ larger, sir, if you wouldn’t mind,’ +said Alice: ‘three inches is such a wretched height to be.’ + +‘It is a very good height indeed!’ said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing +itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). + +‘But I’m not used to it!’ pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she +thought of herself, ‘I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily offended!’ + +‘You’ll get used to it in time,’ said the Caterpillar; and it put the +hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. + +This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a +minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned +once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and +crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, ‘One side will +make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.’ + +‘One side of _what_? The other side of _what_?’ thought Alice to herself. + +‘Of the mushroom,’ said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it +aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. + +Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying +to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, +she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched +her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge +with each hand. + +‘And now which is which?’ she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the +right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent blow +underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! + +She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt +that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she +set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so +closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her mouth; +but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the lefthand +bit. + +
*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *
+*    *    *    *    *    *    *
+
+ +‘Come, my head’s free at last!’ said Alice in a tone of delight, which +changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders +were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an +immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of +green leaves that lay far below her. + +‘What _can_ all that green stuff be?’ said Alice. ‘And where _have_ my +shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can’t see you?’ She +was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except +a little shaking among the distant green leaves. + +As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she +tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her +neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had +just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to +dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of +the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her +draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was +beating her violently with its wings. + +‘Serpent!’ screamed the Pigeon. + +‘I’m _not_ a serpent!’ said Alice indignantly. ‘Let me alone!’ + +‘Serpent, I say again!’ repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, +and added with a kind of sob, ‘I’ve tried every way, and nothing seems to +suit them!’ + +‘I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about,’ said Alice. + +‘I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried +hedges,’ the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; ‘but those +serpents! There’s no pleasing them!’ + +Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in +saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. + +‘As if it wasn’t trouble enough hatching the eggs,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but +I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I haven’t had a +wink of sleep these three weeks!’ + +‘I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,’ said Alice, who was beginning to see +its meaning. + +‘And just as I’d taken the highest tree in the wood,’ continued the +Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, ‘and just as I was thinking I +should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from +the sky! Ugh, Serpent!’ + +‘But I’m _not_ a serpent, I tell you!’ said Alice. ‘I’m a—I’m a—’ + +‘Well! _What_ are you?’ said the Pigeon. ‘I can see you’re trying to invent +something!’ + +‘I—I’m a little girl,’ said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she +remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day. + +‘A likely story indeed!’ said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest +contempt. ‘I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never _one_ +with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s no use +denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never tasted an +egg!’ + +‘I _have_ tasted eggs, certainly,’ said Alice, who was a very truthful +child; ‘but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know.’ + +‘I don’t believe it,’ said the Pigeon; ‘but if they do, why then they’re a +kind of serpent, that’s all I can say.’ + +This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a minute +or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, ‘You’re looking +for eggs, I know _that_ well enough; and what does it matter to me whether +you’re a little girl or a serpent?’ + +‘It matters a good deal to _me_,’ said Alice hastily; ‘but I’m not looking +for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn’t want _yours_: I don’t +like them raw.’ + +‘Well, be off, then!’ said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down +again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she +could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every +now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered +that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to +work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and +growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in +bringing herself down to her usual height. + +It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it +felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and +began talking to herself, as usual. ‘Come, there’s half my plan done now! +How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m going to be, +from one minute to another! However, I’ve got back to my right size: the +next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how _is_ that to be +done, I wonder?’ As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, +with a little house in it about four feet high. ‘Whoever lives there,’ +thought Alice, ‘it’ll never do to come upon them _this_ size: why, I should +frighten them out of their wits!’ So she began nibbling at the righthand +bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought +herself down to nine inches high. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc7b917 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.html @@ -0,0 +1,361 @@ + + + + + Pig and Pepper + + + + +
+

Pig and Pepper

+

+ For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what + to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the + wood—(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: + otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a + fish)—and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by + another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a + frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all + over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, + and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. +

+

+ The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, + nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, + saying, in a solemn tone, ‘For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen + to play croquet.’ The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, + only changing the order of the words a little, ‘From the Queen. An + invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.’ +

+

Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.

+

+ Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood + for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the + Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the + door, staring stupidly up into the sky. +

+

Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked.

+

+ ‘There’s no sort of use in knocking,’ said the Footman, ‘and that for + two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are; + secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could + possibly hear you.’ And certainly there was a most + extraordinary noise going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and + every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken + to pieces. +

+

‘Please, then,’ said Alice, ‘how am I to get in?’

+

+ ‘There might be some sense in your knocking,’ the Footman went on + without attending to her, ‘if we had the door between us. For instance, + if you were inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, + you know.’ He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, + and this Alice thought decidedly uncivil. ‘But perhaps he can’t help + it,’ she said to herself; ‘his eyes are so very nearly at the + top of his head. But at any rate he might answer questions.—How am I to + get in?’ she repeated, aloud. +

+

‘I shall sit here,’ the Footman remarked, ‘till tomorrow—’

+

+ At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came + skimming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, + and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. +

+

+ ‘—or next day, maybe,’ the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly + as if nothing had happened. +

+

‘How am I to get in?’ asked Alice again, in a louder tone.

+

+ ‘Are you to get in at all?’ said the Footman. ‘That’s the first + question, you know.’ +

+

+ It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. ‘It’s really + dreadful,’ she muttered to herself, ‘the way all the creatures argue. + It’s enough to drive one crazy!’ +

+

+ The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his + remark, with variations. ‘I shall sit here,’ he said, ‘on and off, for + days and days.’ +

+

‘But what am I to do?’ said Alice.

+

‘Anything you like,’ said the Footman, and began whistling.

+

+ ‘Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,’ said Alice desperately: ‘he’s + perfectly idiotic!’ And she opened the door and went in. +

+

+ The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from + one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in + the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring + a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. +

+

+ ‘There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!’ Alice said to herself, + as well as she could for sneezing. +

+

+ There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed + occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling + alternately without a moment’s pause. The only things in the kitchen + that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on + the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. +

+

+ ‘Please would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, for she was + not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, ‘why + your cat grins like that?’ +

+

‘It’s a Cheshire cat,’ said the Duchess, ‘and that’s why. Pig!’

+

+ She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite + jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, + and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:— +

+

+ ‘I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t know + that cats could grin.’ +

+

‘They all can,’ said the Duchess; ‘and most of ’em do.’

+

+ ‘I don’t know of any that do,’ Alice said very politely, feeling quite + pleased to have got into a conversation. +

+

‘You don’t know much,’ said the Duchess; ‘and that’s a fact.’

+

+ Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would + be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she + was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the + fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at + the Duchess and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a + shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of + them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, + that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. +

+

+ ‘Oh, please mind what you’re doing!’ cried Alice, jumping up + and down in an agony of terror. ‘Oh, there goes his + precious nose’; as an unusually large saucepan flew close by + it, and very nearly carried it off. +

+

+ ‘If everybody minded their own business,’ the Duchess said in a hoarse + growl, ‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’ +

+

+ ‘Which would not be an advantage,’ said Alice, who felt very + glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. + ‘Just think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see + the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—’ +

+

‘Talking of axes,’ said the Duchess, ‘chop off her head!’

+

+ Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take + the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to + be listening, so she went on again: ‘Twenty-four hours, I + think; or is it twelve? I—’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, don’t bother me,’ said the Duchess; ‘I never could abide + figures!’ And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a + sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at + the end of every line: +

+ 
   ‘Speak roughly to your little boy,
+    And beat him when he sneezes:
+   He only does it to annoy,
+    Because he knows it teases.’
+
+         CHORUS.
+
+ (In which the cook and the baby joined):—
+
+       ‘Wow! wow! wow!’
+

+ While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing + the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, + that Alice could hardly hear the words:— +

+ 
   ‘I speak severely to my boy,
+    I beat him when he sneezes;
+   For he can thoroughly enjoy
+    The pepper when he pleases!’
+
+         CHORUS.
+
+       ‘Wow! wow! wow!’
+

+ ‘Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!’ the Duchess said to Alice, + flinging the baby at her as she spoke. ‘I must go and get ready to play + croquet with the Queen,’ and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw + a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. +

+

+ Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped + little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, ‘just + like a star-fish,’ thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting + like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and + straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute + or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. +

+

+ As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to + twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right + ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it + out into the open air. ‘If I don’t take this child away with me,’ + thought Alice, ‘they’re sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn’t it be + murder to leave it behind?’ She said the last words out loud, and the + little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). + ‘Don’t grunt,’ said Alice; ‘that’s not at all a proper way of expressing + yourself.’ +

+

+ The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to + see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a + very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; + also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice + did not like the look of the thing at all. ‘But perhaps it was only + sobbing,’ she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there + were any tears. +

+

+ No, there were no tears. ‘If you’re going to turn into a pig, my dear,’ + said Alice, seriously, ‘I’ll have nothing more to do with you. Mind + now!’ The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible + to say which), and they went on for some while in silence. +

+

+ Alice was just beginning to think to herself, ‘Now, what am I to do with + this creature when I get it home?’ when it grunted again, so violently, + that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could + be + no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, + and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further. +

+

+ So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it + trot away quietly into the wood. ‘If it had grown up,’ she said to + herself, ‘it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes + rather a handsome pig, I think.’ And she began thinking over other + children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying + to herself, ‘if one only knew the right way to change them—’ when she + was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a + tree a few yards off. +

+

+ The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she + thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, + so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect. +

+

+ ‘Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know + whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. + ‘Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. ‘Would you + tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’ +

+

+ ‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat. +

+

‘I don’t much care where—’ said Alice.

+

‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.

+

+ ‘—so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation. +

+

+ ‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long + enough.’ +

+

+ Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. + ‘What sort of people live about here?’ +

+

+ ‘In that direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, + ‘lives a Hatter: and in that direction,’ waving the other paw, + ‘lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’ +

+

‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.

+

+ ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: ‘we’re all mad here. I’m mad. + You’re mad.’ +

+

‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.

+

‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’

+

+ Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on ‘And how + do you know that you’re mad?’ +

+

‘To begin with,’ said the Cat, ‘a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’

+

‘I suppose so,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Well, then,’ the Cat went on, ‘you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, + and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m + pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.’ +

+

‘I call it purring, not growling,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Call it what you like,’ said the Cat. ‘Do you play croquet with the + Queen to-day?’ +

+

+ ‘I should like it very much,’ said Alice, ‘but I haven’t been invited + yet.’ +

+

‘You’ll see me there,’ said the Cat, and vanished.

+

+ Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer + things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, + it suddenly appeared again. +

+

+ ‘By-the-bye, what became of the baby?’ said the Cat. ‘I’d nearly + forgotten to ask.’ +

+

+ ‘It turned into a pig,’ Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back + in a natural way. +

+

‘I thought it would,’ said the Cat, and vanished again.

+

+ Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not + appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in + which the March Hare was said to live. ‘I’ve seen hatters before,’ she + said to herself; ‘the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and + perhaps as this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad as it + was in March.’ As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat + again, sitting on a branch of a tree. +

+

‘Did you say pig, or fig?’ said the Cat.

+

+ ‘I said pig,’ replied Alice; ‘and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and + vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.’ +

+

+ ‘All right,’ said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, + beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which + remained some time after the rest of it had gone. +

+

+ ‘Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ thought Alice; ‘but a grin + without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!’ +

+

+ She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of + the March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the + chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It + was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had + nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to + about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, + saying to herself ‘Suppose it should be raving mad after all! I almost + wish I’d gone to see the Hatter instead!’ +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4be449 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch06.md @@ -0,0 +1,320 @@ +--- +title: Pig and Pepper +class: story +--- + +## Pig and Pepper + +For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to +do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood—(she +considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, +judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)—and +rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by another +footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a frog; and both +footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their +heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a +little way out of the wood to listen. + +The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, +nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, +in a solemn tone, ‘For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play +croquet.’ The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only +changing the order of the words a little, ‘From the Queen. An invitation +for the Duchess to play croquet.’ + +Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. + +Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for +fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the Fish-Footman +was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring +stupidly up into the sky. + +Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. + +‘There’s no sort of use in knocking,’ said the Footman, ‘and that for two +reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you are; +secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could +possibly hear you.’ And certainly there _was_ a most extraordinary noise +going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and +then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces. + +‘Please, then,’ said Alice, ‘how am I to get in?’ + +‘There might be some sense in your knocking,’ the Footman went on without +attending to her, ‘if we had the door between us. For instance, if you +were _inside_, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know.’ He was +looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this Alice +thought decidedly uncivil. ‘But perhaps he can’t help it,’ she said to +herself; ‘his eyes are so _very_ nearly at the top of his head. But at any +rate he might answer questions.—How am I to get in?’ she repeated, +aloud. + +‘I shall sit here,’ the Footman remarked, ‘till tomorrow—’ + +At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came +skimming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, and +broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. + +‘—or next day, maybe,’ the Footman continued in the same tone, +exactly as if nothing had happened. + +‘How am I to get in?’ asked Alice again, in a louder tone. + +‘_Are_ you to get in at all?’ said the Footman. ‘That’s the first question, +you know.’ + +It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. ‘It’s really +dreadful,’ she muttered to herself, ‘the way all the creatures argue. It’s +enough to drive one crazy!’ + +The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his +remark, with variations. ‘I shall sit here,’ he said, ‘on and off, for +days and days.’ + +‘But what am _I_ to do?’ said Alice. + +‘Anything you like,’ said the Footman, and began whistling. + +‘Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,’ said Alice desperately: ‘he’s +perfectly idiotic!’ And she opened the door and went in. + +The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one +end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the +middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a +large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. + +‘There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!’ Alice said to herself, +as well as she could for sneezing. + +There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed +occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately +without a moment’s pause. The only things in the kitchen that did not +sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and +grinning from ear to ear. + +‘Please would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, for she was not +quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, ‘why your +cat grins like that?’ + +‘It’s a Cheshire cat,’ said the Duchess, ‘and that’s why. Pig!’ + +She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite jumped; +but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not +to her, so she took courage, and went on again:— + +‘I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t know +that cats _could_ grin.’ + +‘They all can,’ said the Duchess; ‘and most of ’em do.’ + +‘I don’t know of any that do,’ Alice said very politely, feeling quite +pleased to have got into a conversation. + +‘You don’t know much,’ said the Duchess; ‘and that’s a fact.’ + +Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be +as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she was +trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and +at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess +and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of +saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them even +when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was +quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. + +‘Oh, _please_ mind what you’re doing!’ cried Alice, jumping up and down in +an agony of terror. ‘Oh, there goes his _precious_ nose’; as an unusually +large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off. + +‘If everybody minded their own business,’ the Duchess said in a hoarse +growl, ‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’ + +‘Which would _not_ be an advantage,’ said Alice, who felt very glad to get +an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. ‘Just think of +what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes +twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—’ + +‘Talking of axes,’ said the Duchess, ‘chop off her head!’ + +Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take +the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to be +listening, so she went on again: ‘Twenty-four hours, I _think_; or is it +twelve? I—’ + +‘Oh, don’t bother _me_,’ said the Duchess; ‘I never could abide figures!’ +And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby +to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every +line: + +``` + ‘Speak roughly to your little boy, + And beat him when he sneezes: + He only does it to annoy, + Because he knows it teases.’ + + CHORUS. + + (In which the cook and the baby joined):— + + ‘Wow! wow! wow!’ +``` + +While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the +baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that +Alice could hardly hear the words:— + +``` + ‘I speak severely to my boy, + I beat him when he sneezes; + For he can thoroughly enjoy + The pepper when he pleases!’ + + CHORUS. + + ‘Wow! wow! wow!’ +``` + +‘Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!’ the Duchess said to Alice, +flinging the baby at her as she spoke. ‘I must go and get ready to play +croquet with the Queen,’ and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw a +frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. + +Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped +little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, ‘just +like a star-fish,’ thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting like +a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and +straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute +or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. + +As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to +twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear +and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it out +into the open air. ‘If I don’t take this child away with me,’ thought +Alice, ‘they’re sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn’t it be murder to +leave it behind?’ She said the last words out loud, and the little thing +grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). ‘Don’t grunt,’ +said Alice; ‘that’s not at all a proper way of expressing yourself.’ + +The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to +see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had a +_very_ turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes +were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did not like the +look of the thing at all. ‘But perhaps it was only sobbing,’ she thought, +and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears. + +No, there were no tears. ‘If you’re going to turn into a pig, my dear,’ +said Alice, seriously, ‘I’ll have nothing more to do with you. Mind now!’ +The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible to say +which), and they went on for some while in silence. + +Alice was just beginning to think to herself, ‘Now, what am I to do with +this creature when I get it home?’ when it grunted again, so violently, +that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could be +_no_ mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt +that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further. + +So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it +trot away quietly into the wood. ‘If it had grown up,’ she said to +herself, ‘it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes rather +a handsome pig, I think.’ And she began thinking over other children she +knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, ‘if +one only knew the right way to change them—’ when she was a little +startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few +yards off. + +The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she +thought: still it had _very_ long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt +that it ought to be treated with respect. + +‘Cheshire Puss,’ she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know +whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. +‘Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. ‘Would you +tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’ + +‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat. + +‘I don’t much care where—’ said Alice. + +‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat. + +‘—so long as I get _somewhere_,’ Alice added as an explanation. + +‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long +enough.’ + +Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. +‘What sort of people live about here?’ + +‘In _that_ direction,’ the Cat said, waving its right paw round, ‘lives a +Hatter: and in _that_ direction,’ waving the other paw, ‘lives a March Hare. +Visit either you like: they’re both mad.’ + +‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked. + +‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: ‘we’re all mad here. I’m mad. +You’re mad.’ + +‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. + +‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’ + +Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on ‘And how do +you know that you’re mad?’ + +‘To begin with,’ said the Cat, ‘a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’ + +‘I suppose so,’ said Alice. + +‘Well, then,’ the Cat went on, ‘you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and +wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now _I_ growl when I’m pleased, and wag my +tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.’ + +‘_I_ call it purring, not growling,’ said Alice. + +‘Call it what you like,’ said the Cat. ‘Do you play croquet with the Queen +to-day?’ + +‘I should like it very much,’ said Alice, ‘but I haven’t been invited +yet.’ + +‘You’ll see me there,’ said the Cat, and vanished. + +Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer +things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it +suddenly appeared again. + +‘By-the-bye, what became of the baby?’ said the Cat. ‘I’d nearly forgotten +to ask.’ + +‘It turned into a pig,’ Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back in +a natural way. + +‘I thought it would,’ said the Cat, and vanished again. + +Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not +appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which +the March Hare was said to live. ‘I’ve seen hatters before,’ she said to +herself; ‘the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as +this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad as it was in +March.’ As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat again, +sitting on a branch of a tree. + +‘Did you say pig, or fig?’ said the Cat. + +‘I said pig,’ replied Alice; ‘and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and +vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.’ + +‘All right,’ said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, +beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which +remained some time after the rest of it had gone. + +‘Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ thought Alice; ‘but a grin +without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!’ + +She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the +March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys +were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It was so large +a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more +of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet +high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself +‘Suppose it should be raving mad after all! I almost wish I’d gone to see +the Hatter instead!’ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c59efc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.html @@ -0,0 +1,388 @@ + + + + + A Mad Tea-Party + + + + +
+

A Mad Tea-Party

+

+ There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the + March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting + between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, + resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. ‘Very + uncomfortable for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; ‘only, as it’s asleep, I + suppose it doesn’t mind.’ +

+

+ The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at + one corner of it: ‘No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice + coming. ‘There’s plenty of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and + she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. +

+

‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

+

+ Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. + ‘I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked. +

+

‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare.

+

‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily.

+

+ ‘It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,’ said + the March Hare. +

+

+ ‘I didn’t know it was your table,’ said Alice; ‘it’s laid for a + great many more than three.’ +

+

+ ‘Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice + for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. +

+

+ ‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some + severity; ‘it’s very rude.’ +

+

+ The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he + said was, ‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’ +

+

+ ‘Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they’ve + begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud. +

+

+ ‘Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the + March Hare. +

+

‘Exactly so,’ said Alice.

+

‘Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on.

+

+ ‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least—at least I mean what I + say—that’s the same thing, you know.’ +

+

+ ‘Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. ‘You might just as well say + that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’ +

+

+ ‘You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, ‘that “I like what I + get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’ +

+

+ ‘You might just as well say,’ added the Dormouse, who seemed to be + talking in his sleep, ‘that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing + as “I sleep when I breathe”!’ +

+

+ ‘It is the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the + conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice + thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, + which wasn’t much. +

+

+ The Hatter was the first to break the silence. ‘What day of the month is + it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his + pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, + and holding it to his ear. +

+

Alice considered a little, and then said ‘The fourth.’

+

+ ‘Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. ‘I told you butter wouldn’t suit + the works!’ he added looking angrily at the March Hare. +

+

‘It was the best butter,’ the March Hare meekly replied.

+

+ ‘Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter grumbled: + ‘you shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.’ +

+

+ The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped + it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of + nothing better to say than his first remark, ‘It was the + best butter, you know.’ +

+

+ Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. ‘What a + funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t + tell what o’clock it is!’ +

+

+ ‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does your watch tell you + what year it is?’ +

+

+ ‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s because it + stays the same year for such a long time together.’ +

+

‘Which is just the case with mine,’ said the Hatter.

+

+ Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no + sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. ‘I don’t quite + understand you,’ she said, as politely as she could. +

+

+ ‘The Dormouse is asleep again,’ said the Hatter, and he poured a little + hot tea upon its nose. +

+

+ The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its + eyes, ‘Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.’ +

+

+ ‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice + again. +

+

‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘what’s the answer?’

+

‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter.

+

‘Nor I,’ said the March Hare.

+

+ Alice sighed wearily. ‘I think you might do something better with the + time,’ she said, ‘than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.’ +

+

+ ‘If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you wouldn’t talk + about wasting it. It’s him.’ +

+

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Of course you don’t!’ the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. + ‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’ +

+

+ ‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have to beat time + when I learn music.’ +

+

+ ‘Ah! that accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand beating. + Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything + you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in + the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a + hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, + time for dinner!’ +

+

(‘I only wish it was,’ the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.)

+

+ ‘That would be grand, certainly,’ said Alice thoughtfully: ‘but then—I + shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.’ +

+

+ ‘Not at first, perhaps,’ said the Hatter: ‘but you could keep it to + half-past one as long as you liked.’ +

+

‘Is that the way you manage?’ Alice asked.

+

+ The Hatter shook his head mournfully. ‘Not I!’ he replied. ‘We + quarrelled last March—just before he went mad, you know—’ + (pointing with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) ’—it was at the great + concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing +

+ 
     “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
+     How I wonder what you’re at!”
+
+

You know the song, perhaps?’

+

‘I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice.

+

‘It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, ‘in this way:—

+ 
     “Up above the world you fly,
+     Like a tea-tray in the sky.
+         Twinkle, twinkle—”’
+

+ Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep ‘Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—’ and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop. +

+

+ ‘Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the Hatter, ‘when the + Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s murdering the time! Off with his + head!”’ +

+

‘How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice.

+

+ ‘And ever since that,’ the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, ‘he won’t + do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.’ +

+

+ A bright idea came into Alice’s head. ‘Is that the reason so many + tea-things are put out here?’ she asked. +

+

+ ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said the Hatter with a sigh: ‘it’s always tea-time, + and we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.’ +

+

‘Then you keep moving round, I suppose?’ said Alice.

+

‘Exactly so,’ said the Hatter: ‘as the things get used up.’

+

+ ‘But what happens when you come to the beginning again?’ Alice ventured + to ask. +

+

+ ‘Suppose we change the subject,’ the March Hare interrupted, yawning. + ‘I’m getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.’ +

+

+ ‘I’m afraid I don’t know one,’ said Alice, rather alarmed at the + proposal. +

+

+ ‘Then the Dormouse shall!’ they both cried. ‘Wake up, Dormouse!’ And + they pinched it on both sides at once. +

+

+ The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he said in a + hoarse, feeble voice: ‘I heard every word you fellows were saying.’ +

+

‘Tell us a story!’ said the March Hare.

+

‘Yes, please do!’ pleaded Alice.

+

+ ‘And be quick about it,’ added the Hatter, ‘or you’ll be asleep again + before it’s done.’ +

+

+ ‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters,’ the Dormouse began + in a great hurry; ‘and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and + they lived at the bottom of a well—’ +

+

+ ‘What did they live on?’ said Alice, who always took a great interest in + questions of eating and drinking. +

+

+ ‘They lived on treacle,’ said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or + two. +

+

+ ‘They couldn’t have done that, you know,’ Alice gently remarked; ‘they’d + have been ill.’ +

+

‘So they were,’ said the Dormouse; ‘very ill.’

+

+ Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of + living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: ‘But + why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ +

+

‘Take some more tea,’ the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.

+

+ ‘I’ve had nothing yet,’ Alice replied in an offended tone, ‘so I can’t + take more.’ +

+

+ ‘You mean you can’t take less,’ said the Hatter: ‘it’s very + easy to take more than nothing.’ +

+

‘Nobody asked your opinion,’ said Alice.

+

‘Who’s making personal remarks now?’ the Hatter asked triumphantly.

+

+ Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to + some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and + repeated her question. ‘Why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ +

+

+ The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then + said, ‘It was a treacle-well.’ +

+

+ ‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, but the + Hatter and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the Dormouse sulkily + remarked, ‘If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for + yourself.’ +

+

+ ‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t interrupt again. I + dare say there may be one.’ +

+

+ ‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to + go on. ‘And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, + you know—’ +

+

‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.

+

‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.

+

+ ‘I want a clean cup,’ interrupted the Hatter: ‘let’s all move one place + on.’ +

+

+ He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare + moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the + place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any + advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than + before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. +

+

+ Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very + cautiously: ‘But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle + from?’ +

+

+ ‘You can draw water out of a water-well,’ said the Hatter; ‘so I should + think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?’ +

+

+ ‘But they were in the well,’ Alice said to the Dormouse, not + choosing to notice this last remark. +

+

‘Of course they were’, said the Dormouse; ‘—well in.’

+

+ This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for + some time without interrupting it. +

+

+ ‘They were learning to draw,’ the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing + its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; ‘and they drew all manner of + things—everything that begins with an M—’ +

+

‘Why with an M?’ said Alice.

+

‘Why not?’ said the March Hare.

+

Alice was silent.

+

+ The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a + doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a + little shriek, and went on: ‘—that begins with an M, such as + mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say + things are “much of a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a + drawing of a muchness?’ +

+

+ ‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, very much confused, ‘I don’t + think—’ +

+

‘Then you shouldn’t talk,’ said the Hatter.

+

+ This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in + great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and + neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she + looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: + the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into + the teapot. +

+

+ ‘At any rate I’ll never go there again!’ said Alice as she + picked her way through the wood. ‘It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever + was at in all my life!’ +

+

+ Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door + leading right into it. ‘That’s very curious!’ she thought. ‘But + everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.’ And in + she went. +

+

+ Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little + glass table. ‘Now, I’ll manage better this time,’ she said to herself, + and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that + led into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she + had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: + then she walked down the little passage: and then—she found + herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds + and the cool fountains. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..824e3bf --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch07.md @@ -0,0 +1,339 @@ +--- +title: A Mad Tea-Party +class: story +--- + +## A Mad Tea-Party + +There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the +March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting +between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, +resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. ‘Very uncomfortable +for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; ‘only, as it’s asleep, I suppose it +doesn’t mind.’ + +The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one +corner of it: ‘No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice +coming. ‘There’s _plenty_ of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and she sat down +in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. + +‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone. + +Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. ‘I +don’t see any wine,’ she remarked. + +‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare. + +‘Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily. + +‘It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,’ said the +March Hare. + +‘I didn’t know it was _your_ table,’ said Alice; ‘it’s laid for a great many +more than three.’ + +‘Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice +for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. + +‘You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some +severity; ‘it’s very rude.’ + +The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he _said_ was, +‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’ + +‘Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they’ve begun +asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud. + +‘Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the +March Hare. + +‘Exactly so,’ said Alice. + +‘Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on. + +‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s +the same thing, you know.’ + +‘Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. ‘You might just as well say +that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’ + +‘You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, ‘that “I like what I +get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’ + +‘You might just as well say,’ added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking +in his sleep, ‘that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing as “I sleep +when I breathe”!’ + +‘It _is_ the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the +conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice +thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which +wasn’t much. + +The Hatter was the first to break the silence. ‘What day of the month is +it?’ he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, +and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding +it to his ear. + +Alice considered a little, and then said ‘The fourth.’ + +‘Two days wrong!’ sighed the Hatter. ‘I told you butter wouldn’t suit the +works!’ he added looking angrily at the March Hare. + +‘It was the _best_ butter,’ the March Hare meekly replied. + +‘Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,’ the Hatter grumbled: ‘you +shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.’ + +The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it +into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing +better to say than his first remark, ‘It was the _best_ butter, you know.’ + +Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. ‘What a +funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t +tell what o’clock it is!’ + +‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does _your_ watch tell you what year +it is?’ + +‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s because it stays +the same year for such a long time together.’ + +‘Which is just the case with _mine_,’ said the Hatter. + +Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no sort +of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. ‘I don’t quite +understand you,’ she said, as politely as she could. + +‘The Dormouse is asleep again,’ said the Hatter, and he poured a little +hot tea upon its nose. + +The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its +eyes, ‘Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.’ + +‘Have you guessed the riddle yet?’ the Hatter said, turning to Alice +again. + +‘No, I give it up,’ Alice replied: ‘what’s the answer?’ + +‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said the Hatter. + +‘Nor I,’ said the March Hare. + +Alice sighed wearily. ‘I think you might do something better with the +time,’ she said, ‘than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.’ + +‘If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you wouldn’t talk +about wasting _it_. It’s _him_.’ + +‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Alice. + +‘Of course you don’t!’ the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. +‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’ + +‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have to beat time +when I learn music.’ + +‘Ah! that accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand beating. Now, +if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked +with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, +just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and +round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!’ + +(‘I only wish it was,’ the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) + +‘That would be grand, certainly,’ said Alice thoughtfully: ‘but then—I +shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.’ + +‘Not at first, perhaps,’ said the Hatter: ‘but you could keep it to +half-past one as long as you liked.’ + +‘Is that the way _you_ manage?’ Alice asked. + +The Hatter shook his head mournfully. ‘Not I!’ he replied. ‘We quarrelled +last March—just before _he_ went mad, you know—’ (pointing with +his tea spoon at the March Hare,) ’—it was at the great concert +given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing + +``` + “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! + How I wonder what you’re at!” + +``` + +You know the song, perhaps?’ + +‘I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice. + +‘It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, ‘in this way:— + +``` + “Up above the world you fly, + Like a tea-tray in the sky. + Twinkle, twinkle—”’ +``` + +Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep ‘_Twinkle, +twinkle, twinkle, twinkle_—’ and went on so long that they had to +pinch it to make it stop. + +‘Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the Hatter, ‘when the +Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s murdering the time! Off with his +head!”’ + +‘How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice. + +‘And ever since that,’ the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, ‘he won’t do +a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.’ + +A bright idea came into Alice’s head. ‘Is that the reason so many +tea-things are put out here?’ she asked. + +‘Yes, that’s it,’ said the Hatter with a sigh: ‘it’s always tea-time, and +we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.’ + +‘Then you keep moving round, I suppose?’ said Alice. + +‘Exactly so,’ said the Hatter: ‘as the things get used up.’ + +‘But what happens when you come to the beginning again?’ Alice ventured to +ask. + +‘Suppose we change the subject,’ the March Hare interrupted, yawning. ‘I’m +getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.’ + +‘I’m afraid I don’t know one,’ said Alice, rather alarmed at the proposal. + +‘Then the Dormouse shall!’ they both cried. ‘Wake up, Dormouse!’ And they +pinched it on both sides at once. + +The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ he said in a +hoarse, feeble voice: ‘I heard every word you fellows were saying.’ + +‘Tell us a story!’ said the March Hare. + +‘Yes, please do!’ pleaded Alice. + +‘And be quick about it,’ added the Hatter, ‘or you’ll be asleep again +before it’s done.’ + +‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters,’ the Dormouse began in +a great hurry; ‘and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they +lived at the bottom of a well—’ + +‘What did they live on?’ said Alice, who always took a great interest in +questions of eating and drinking. + +‘They lived on treacle,’ said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or +two. + +‘They couldn’t have done that, you know,’ Alice gently remarked; ‘they’d +have been ill.’ + +‘So they were,’ said the Dormouse; ‘_very_ ill.’ + +Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of living +would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: ‘But why did +they live at the bottom of a well?’ + +‘Take some more tea,’ the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. + +‘I’ve had nothing yet,’ Alice replied in an offended tone, ‘so I can’t +take more.’ + +‘You mean you can’t take _less_,’ said the Hatter: ‘it’s very easy to take +_more_ than nothing.’ + +‘Nobody asked _your_ opinion,’ said Alice. + +‘Who’s making personal remarks now?’ the Hatter asked triumphantly. + +Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to +some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and +repeated her question. ‘Why did they live at the bottom of a well?’ + +The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, +‘It was a treacle-well.’ + +‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter +and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the Dormouse sulkily remarked, ‘If +you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for yourself.’ + +‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t interrupt again. I +dare say there may be _one_.’ + +‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to go +on. ‘And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, +you know—’ + +‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her promise. + +‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time. + +‘I want a clean cup,’ interrupted the Hatter: ‘let’s all move one place +on.’ + +He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare +moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the +place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage +from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the +March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. + +Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very +cautiously: ‘But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle +from?’ + +‘You can draw water out of a water-well,’ said the Hatter; ‘so I should +think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?’ + +‘But they were _in_ the well,’ Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to +notice this last remark. + +‘Of course they were’, said the Dormouse; ‘—well in.’ + +This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for +some time without interrupting it. + +‘They were learning to draw,’ the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing +its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; ‘and they drew all manner of +things—everything that begins with an M—’ + +‘Why with an M?’ said Alice. + +‘Why not?’ said the March Hare. + +Alice was silent. + +The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a +doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a little +shriek, and went on: ‘—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, +and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are +“much of a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a +muchness?’ + +‘Really, now you ask me,’ said Alice, very much confused, ‘I don’t think—’ + +‘Then you shouldn’t talk,’ said the Hatter. + +This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great +disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither +of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back +once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time +she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot. + +‘At any rate I’ll never go _there_ again!’ said Alice as she picked her way +through the wood. ‘It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my +life!’ + +Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door +leading right into it. ‘That’s very curious!’ she thought. ‘But +everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.’ And in +she went. + +Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little +glass table. ‘Now, I’ll manage better this time,’ she said to herself, and +began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led +into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had +kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: then she +walked down the little passage: and _then_—she found herself at last +in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool +fountains. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e9d3fa --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.html @@ -0,0 +1,361 @@ + + + + + The Queen’s Croquet-Ground + + + + +
+

The Queen’s Croquet-Ground

+

+ A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses + growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily + painting them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went + nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of + them say, ‘Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like + that!’ +

+

+ ‘I couldn’t help it,’ said Five, in a sulky tone; ‘Seven jogged my + elbow.’ +

+

+ On which Seven looked up and said, ‘That’s right, Five! Always lay the + blame on others!’ +

+

+ ‘You’d better not talk!’ said Five. ‘I heard the Queen say only + yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!’ +

+

‘What for?’ said the one who had spoken first.

+

‘That’s none of your business, Two!’ said Seven.

+

+ ‘Yes, it is his business!’ said Five, ‘and I’ll tell him—it was + for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.’ +

+

+ Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun ‘Well, of all the unjust + things—’ when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching + them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and + all of them bowed low. +

+

+ ‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are painting + those roses?’ +

+

+ Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low + voice, ‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a + red + rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to + find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, + Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to—’ At this moment Five, + who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out ‘The Queen! + The Queen!’ and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon + their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked + round, eager to see the Queen. +

+

+ First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the + three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the + corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with + diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came + the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came + jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented + with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among + them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried + nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without + noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King’s + crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand + procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. +

+

+ Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face + like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard + of such a rule at processions; ‘and besides, what would be the use of a + procession,’ thought she, ‘if people had all to lie down upon their + faces, so that they couldn’t see it?’ So she stood still where she was, + and waited. +

+

+ When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked + at her, and the Queen said severely ‘Who is this?’ She said it to the + Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. +

+

+ ‘Idiot!’ said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to + Alice, she went on, ‘What’s your name, child?’ +

+

+ ‘My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,’ said Alice very politely; + but she added, to herself, ‘Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after + all. I needn’t be afraid of them!’ +

+

+ ‘And who are these?’ said the Queen, pointing to the three + gardeners who were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were + lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the + rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or + soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. +

+

+ ‘How should I know?’ said Alice, surprised at her own courage. + ‘It’s no business of mine.’ +

+

+ The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a + moment like a wild beast, screamed ‘Off with her head! Off—’ +

+

+ ‘Nonsense!’ said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was + silent. +

+

+ The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said ‘Consider, my + dear: she is only a child!’ +

+

+ The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave ‘Turn them + over!’ +

+

The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot.

+

+ ‘Get up!’ said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three + gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, + the royal children, and everybody else. +

+

+ ‘Leave off that!’ screamed the Queen. ‘You make me giddy.’ And then, + turning to the rose-tree, she went on, ‘What have you been + doing here?’ +

+

+ ‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Two, in a very humble tone, going + down on one knee as he spoke, ‘we were trying—’ +

+

+ ‘I see!’ said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the + roses. ‘Off with their heads!’ and the procession moved on, three of the + soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran + to Alice for protection. +

+

+ ‘You shan’t be beheaded!’ said Alice, and she put them into a large + flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a + minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the + others. +

+

‘Are their heads off?’ shouted the Queen.

+

+ ‘Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!’ the soldiers shouted + in reply. +

+

‘That’s right!’ shouted the Queen. ‘Can you play croquet?’

+

+ The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was + evidently meant for her. +

+

‘Yes!’ shouted Alice.

+

+ ‘Come on, then!’ roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, + wondering very much what would happen next. +

+

+ ‘It’s—it’s a very fine day!’ said a timid voice at her side. She was + walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. +

+

‘Very,’ said Alice: ‘—where’s the Duchess?’

+

+ ‘Hush! Hush!’ said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked + anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon + tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered ‘She’s under + sentence of execution.’ +

+

‘What for?’ said Alice.

+

‘Did you say “What a pity!”?’ the Rabbit asked.

+

+ ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Alice: ‘I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said + “What for?”’ +

+

+ ‘She boxed the Queen’s ears—’ the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little + scream of laughter. ‘Oh, hush!’ the Rabbit whispered in a frightened + tone. ‘The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the + Queen said—’ +

+

+ ‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and + people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each + other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game + began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in + her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, + the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves + up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. +

+

+ The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: + she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under + her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got + its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a + blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in + her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help + bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going + to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had + unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, + there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to + send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always + getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came + to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. +

+

+ The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling + all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time + the Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and + shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with her head!’ about once in a + minute. +

+

+ Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any + dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, + ‘and then,’ thought she, ‘what would become of me? They’re dreadfully + fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there’s any one + left alive!’ +

+

+ She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she + could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance + in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a + minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself + ‘It’s the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to.’ +

+

+ ‘How are you getting on?’ said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth + enough for it to speak with. +

+

+ Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. ‘It’s no use + speaking to it,’ she thought, ‘till its ears have come, or at least one + of them.’ In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put + down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad + she had someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was + enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. +

+

+ ‘I don’t think they play at all fairly,’ Alice began, in rather a + complaining tone, ‘and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear + oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; at + least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea how + confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there’s the + arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the + ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, only + it ran away when it saw mine coming!’ +

+

‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice.

+

+ ‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely—’ Just then she noticed + that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, ‘—likely + to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ +

+

The Queen smiled and passed on.

+

+ ‘Who are you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and + looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity. +

+

+ ‘It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to + introduce it.’ +

+

+ ‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may + kiss my hand if it likes.’ +

+

‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked.

+

+ ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ + He got behind Alice as he spoke. +

+

+ ‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, + but I don’t remember where.’ +

+

+ ‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called + the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would + have this cat removed!’ +

+

+ The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. + ‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. +

+

+ ‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he + hurried off. +

+

+ Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going + on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with + passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be + executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of + things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew + whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. +

+

+ The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed + to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the + other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the + other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless + sort of way to fly up into a tree. +

+

+ By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight + was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: ‘but it doesn’t + matter much,’ thought Alice, ‘as all the arches are gone from this side + of the ground.’ So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not + escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her + friend. +

+

+ When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a + large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the + executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, + while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. +

+

+ The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle + the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they + all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly + what they said. +

+

+ The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head unless + there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a + thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at his time of life. +

+

+ The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be + beheaded, and that you weren’t to talk nonsense. +

+

+ The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in less + than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It was this last + remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.) +

+

+ Alice could think of nothing else to say but ‘It belongs to the Duchess: + you’d better ask her about it.’ +

+

+ ‘She’s in prison,’ the Queen said to the executioner: ‘fetch her here.’ + And the executioner went off like an arrow. +

+

+ The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by the + time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so + the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, + while the rest of the party went back to the game. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be889aa --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch08.md @@ -0,0 +1,299 @@ +--- +title: The Queen’s Croquet-Ground +class: story +--- + +## The Queen’s Croquet-Ground + +A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing +on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting +them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to +watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of them say, +‘Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!’ + +‘I couldn’t help it,’ said Five, in a sulky tone; ‘Seven jogged my elbow.’ + +On which Seven looked up and said, ‘That’s right, Five! Always lay the +blame on others!’ + +‘_You’d_ better not talk!’ said Five. ‘I heard the Queen say only yesterday +you deserved to be beheaded!’ + +‘What for?’ said the one who had spoken first. + +‘That’s none of _your_ business, Two!’ said Seven. + +‘Yes, it _is_ his business!’ said Five, ‘and I’ll tell him—it was for +bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.’ + +Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun ‘Well, of all the unjust +things—’ when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood +watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round +also, and all of them bowed low. + +‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are painting +those roses?’ + +Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, +‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a _red_ +rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to +find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, +Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to—’ At this moment +Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out ‘The +Queen! The Queen!’ and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat +upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked +round, eager to see the Queen. + +First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the +three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the +corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with +diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came +the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came +jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented +with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them +Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous +manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing +her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King’s crown on a +crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, came THE +KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. + +Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face +like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of +such a rule at processions; ‘and besides, what would be the use of a +procession,’ thought she, ‘if people had all to lie down upon their faces, +so that they couldn’t see it?’ So she stood still where she was, and +waited. + +When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked at +her, and the Queen said severely ‘Who is this?’ She said it to the Knave +of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. + +‘Idiot!’ said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to +Alice, she went on, ‘What’s your name, child?’ + +‘My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,’ said Alice very politely; but +she added, to herself, ‘Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after all. I +needn’t be afraid of them!’ + +‘And who are _these_?’ said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who +were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were lying on their +faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the +pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or +courtiers, or three of her own children. + +‘How should _I_ know?’ said Alice, surprised at her own courage. ‘It’s no +business of _mine_.’ + +The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment +like a wild beast, screamed ‘Off with her head! Off—’ + +‘Nonsense!’ said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was +silent. + +The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said ‘Consider, my dear: +she is only a child!’ + +The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave ‘Turn them +over!’ + +The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. + +‘Get up!’ said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners +instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, the royal +children, and everybody else. + +‘Leave off that!’ screamed the Queen. ‘You make me giddy.’ And then, +turning to the rose-tree, she went on, ‘What _have_ you been doing here?’ + +‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Two, in a very humble tone, going down +on one knee as he spoke, ‘we were trying—’ + +‘_I_ see!’ said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. ‘Off +with their heads!’ and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers +remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to Alice +for protection. + +‘You shan’t be beheaded!’ said Alice, and she put them into a large +flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a minute +or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others. + +‘Are their heads off?’ shouted the Queen. + +‘Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!’ the soldiers shouted in +reply. + +‘That’s right!’ shouted the Queen. ‘Can you play croquet?’ + +The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was +evidently meant for her. + +‘Yes!’ shouted Alice. + +‘Come on, then!’ roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, +wondering very much what would happen next. + +‘It’s—it’s a very fine day!’ said a timid voice at her side. She was +walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. + +‘Very,’ said Alice: ‘—where’s the Duchess?’ + +‘Hush! Hush!’ said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked anxiously +over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon tiptoe, put +his mouth close to her ear, and whispered ‘She’s under sentence of +execution.’ + +‘What for?’ said Alice. + +‘Did you say “What a pity!”?’ the Rabbit asked. + +‘No, I didn’t,’ said Alice: ‘I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said +“What for?”’ + +‘She boxed the Queen’s ears—’ the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little +scream of laughter. ‘Oh, hush!’ the Rabbit whispered in a frightened tone. +‘The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the Queen +said—’ + +‘Get to your places!’ shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people +began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; +however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. +Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her +life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the +mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and +to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. + +The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: +she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under +her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got +its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a +blow with its head, it _would_ twist itself round and look up in her face, +with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out +laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin +again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled +itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was +generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the +hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and +walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the +conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. + +The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all +the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the +Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting ‘Off +with his head!’ or ‘Off with her head!’ about once in a minute. + +Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any +dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, ‘and +then,’ thought she, ‘what would become of me? They’re dreadfully fond of +beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there’s any one left +alive!’ + +She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she +could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance +in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a +minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself ‘It’s +the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to.’ + +‘How are you getting on?’ said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth enough +for it to speak with. + +Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. ‘It’s no use +speaking to it,’ she thought, ‘till its ears have come, or at least one of +them.’ In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put down +her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had +someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of +it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. + +‘I don’t think they play at all fairly,’ Alice began, in rather a +complaining tone, ‘and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear +oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; +at least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea +how confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there’s the +arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the +ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, +only it ran away when it saw mine coming!’ + +‘How do you like the Queen?’ said the Cat in a low voice. + +‘Not at all,’ said Alice: ‘she’s so extremely—’ Just then she +noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, ‘—likely +to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.’ + +The Queen smiled and passed on. + +‘Who _are_ you talking to?’ said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at +the Cat’s head with great curiosity. + +‘It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,’ said Alice: ‘allow me to +introduce it.’ + +‘I don’t like the look of it at all,’ said the King: ‘however, it may kiss +my hand if it likes.’ + +‘I’d rather not,’ the Cat remarked. + +‘Don’t be impertinent,’ said the King, ‘and don’t look at me like that!’ +He got behind Alice as he spoke. + +‘A cat may look at a king,’ said Alice. ‘I’ve read that in some book, but +I don’t remember where.’ + +‘Well, it must be removed,’ said the King very decidedly, and he called +the Queen, who was passing at the moment, ‘My dear! I wish you would have +this cat removed!’ + +The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. +‘Off with his head!’ she said, without even looking round. + +‘I’ll fetch the executioner myself,’ said the King eagerly, and he hurried +off. + +Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going +on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with +passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be +executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of +things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew +whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. + +The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to +Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: +the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other +side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of +way to fly up into a tree. + +By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight was +over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: ‘but it doesn’t matter +much,’ thought Alice, ‘as all the arches are gone from this side of the +ground.’ So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape +again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend. + +When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a +large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the +executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while +all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. + +The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the +question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all +spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they +said. + +The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head unless +there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a +thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at _his_ time of life. + +The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, +and that you weren’t to talk nonsense. + +The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in less +than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It was this last +remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.) + +Alice could think of nothing else to say but ‘It belongs to the Duchess: +you’d better ask _her_ about it.’ + +‘She’s in prison,’ the Queen said to the executioner: ‘fetch her here.’ +And the executioner went off like an arrow. + +The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, +by the time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely +disappeared; so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down +looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3aa9a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.html @@ -0,0 +1,372 @@ + + + + + The Mock Turtle’s Story + + + + +
+

The Mock Turtle’s Story

+

+ ‘You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!’ + said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, and + they walked off together. +

+

+ Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought + to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so + savage when they met in the kitchen. +

+

+ ‘When I’m a Duchess,’ she said to herself, (not in a very + hopeful tone though), ‘I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen + at all. Soup does very well without—Maybe it’s always pepper + that makes people hot-tempered,’ she went on, very much pleased at + having found out a new kind of rule, ‘and vinegar that makes them + sour—and camomile that makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such + things that make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew + that: then they wouldn’t be so stingy about it, you know—’ +

+

+ She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little + startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. ‘You’re thinking + about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t + tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in + a bit.’ +

+

‘Perhaps it hasn’t one,’ Alice ventured to remark.

+

+ ‘Tut, tut, child!’ said the Duchess. ‘Everything’s got a moral, if only + you can find it.’ And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice’s side as + she spoke. +

+

+ Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the + Duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly + the right height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder, and it was an + uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she + bore it as well as she could. +

+

+ ‘The game’s going on rather better now,’ she said, by way of keeping up + the conversation a little. +

+

+ ‘’Tis so,’ said the Duchess: ‘and the moral of that is—“Oh, ’tis love, + ’tis love, that makes the world go round!”’ +

+

+ ‘Somebody said,’ Alice whispered, ‘that it’s done by everybody minding + their own business!’ +

+

+ ‘Ah, well! It means much the same thing,’ said the Duchess, digging her + sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, ‘and the moral of + that is—“Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care + of themselves.”’ +

+

+ ‘How fond she is of finding morals in things!’ Alice thought to herself. +

+

+ ‘I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist,’ + the Duchess said after a pause: ‘the reason is, that I’m doubtful about + the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?’ +

+

+ ‘He might bite,’ Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to + have the experiment tried. +

+

+ ‘Very true,’ said the Duchess: ‘flamingoes and mustard both bite. And + the moral of that is—“Birds of a feather flock together.”’ +

+

‘Only mustard isn’t a bird,’ Alice remarked.

+

+ ‘Right, as usual,’ said the Duchess: ‘what a clear way you have of + putting things!’ +

+

‘It’s a mineral, I think,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Of course it is,’ said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to + everything that Alice said; ‘there’s a large mustard-mine near here. And + the moral of that is—“The more there is of mine, the less there is of + yours.”’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, I know!’ exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, + ‘it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.’ +

+

+ ‘I quite agree with you,’ said the Duchess; ‘and the moral of that + is—“Be what you would seem to be”—or if you’d like it put more + simply—“Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might + appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise + than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.”’ +

+

+ ‘I think I should understand that better,’ Alice said very politely, ‘if + I had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.’ +

+

+ ‘That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,’ the Duchess replied, in + a pleased tone. +

+

+ ‘Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,’ said + Alice. +

+

+ ‘Oh, don’t talk about trouble!’ said the Duchess. ‘I make you a present + of everything I’ve said as yet.’ +

+

+ ‘A cheap sort of present!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they don’t give + birthday presents like that!’ But she did not venture to say it out + loud. +

+

+ ‘Thinking again?’ the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp + little chin. +

+

+ ‘I’ve a right to think,’ said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to + feel a little worried. +

+

+ ‘Just about as much right,’ said the Duchess, ‘as pigs have to fly; and + the m—’ +

+

+ But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died away, even + in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral,’ and the arm that was linked + into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen + in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. +

+

‘A fine day, your Majesty!’ the Duchess began in a low, weak voice.

+

+ ‘Now, I give you fair warning,’ shouted the Queen, stamping on the + ground as she spoke; ‘either you or your head must be off, and that in + about half no time! Take your choice!’ +

+

The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.

+

+ ‘Let’s go on with the game,’ the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too + much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the + croquet-ground. +

+

+ The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and were + resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried + back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment’s delay would + cost them their lives. +

+

+ All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with + the other players, and shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with her + head!’ Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, + who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the + end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the + players, except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody and + under sentence of execution. +

+

+ Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, ‘Have + you seen the Mock Turtle yet?’ +

+

‘No,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.’

+

‘It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,’ said the Queen.

+

‘I never saw one, or heard of one,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Come on, then,’ said the Queen, ‘and he shall tell you his history,’ +

+

+ As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to + the company generally, ‘You are all pardoned.’ ’Come, that’s a + good thing!’ she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the + number of executions the Queen had ordered. +

+

+ They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If + you don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) ‘Up, lazy + thing!’ said the Queen, ‘and take this young lady to see the Mock + Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see after some + executions I have ordered’; and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with + the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on + the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go + after that savage Queen: so she waited. +

+

+ The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till + she was out of sight: then it chuckled. ‘What fun!’ said the Gryphon, + half to itself, half to Alice. +

+

‘What is the fun?’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Why, she,’ said the Gryphon. ‘It’s all her fancy, that: they + never executes nobody, you know. Come on!’ +

+

+ ‘Everybody says “come on!” here,’ thought Alice, as she went slowly + after it: ‘I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!’ +

+

+ They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, + sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came + nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She + pitied him deeply. ‘What is his sorrow?’ she asked the Gryphon, and the + Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, ‘It’s all his + fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’ +

+

+ So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes + full of tears, but said nothing. +

+

+ ‘This here young lady,’ said the Gryphon, ‘she wants for to know your + history, she do.’ +

+

+ ‘I’ll tell it her,’ said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: ‘sit + down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’ +

+

+ So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to + herself, ‘I don’t see how he can ever finish, if he doesn’t + begin.’ But she waited patiently. +

+

+ ‘Once,’ said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, ‘I was a real + Turtle.’ +

+

+ These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an + occasional exclamation of ‘Hjckrrh!’ from the Gryphon, and the constant + heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and + saying, ‘Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,’ but she could not + help thinking there must be more to come, so she sat still and + said nothing. +

+

+ ‘When we were little,’ the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, + though still sobbing a little now and then, ‘we went to school in the + sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—’ +

+

‘Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?’ Alice asked.

+

+ ‘We called him Tortoise because he taught us,’ said the Mock Turtle + angrily: ‘really you are very dull!’ +

+

+ ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question,’ + added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor + Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said + to the Mock Turtle, ‘Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all day about it!’ + and he went on in these words: +

+

‘Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe it—’

+

‘I never said I didn’t!’ interrupted Alice.

+

‘You did,’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

+ ‘Hold your tongue!’ added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. + The Mock Turtle went on. +

+

+ ‘We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—’ +

+

+ ‘I’ve been to a day-school, too,’ said Alice; ‘you needn’t be + so proud as all that.’ +

+

‘With extras?’ asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.

+

‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘we learned French and music.’

+

‘And washing?’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

‘Certainly not!’ said Alice indignantly.

+

+ ‘Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,’ said the Mock Turtle in a + tone of great relief. ‘Now at ours they had at the end of the + bill, “French, music, and washing—extra.”’ +

+

+ ‘You couldn’t have wanted it much,’ said Alice; ‘living at the bottom of + the sea.’ +

+

+ ‘I couldn’t afford to learn it.’ said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. ‘I + only took the regular course.’ +

+

‘What was that?’ inquired Alice.

+

+ ‘Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,’ the Mock Turtle + replied; ‘and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, + Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’ +

+

+ ‘I never heard of “Uglification,”’ Alice ventured to say. ‘What is it?’ +

+

+ The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. ‘What! Never heard of + uglifying!’ it exclaimed. ‘You know what to beautify is, I suppose?’ +

+

‘Yes,’ said Alice doubtfully: ‘it means—to—make—anything—prettier.’

+

+ ‘Well, then,’ the Gryphon went on, ‘if you don’t know what to uglify is, + you are a simpleton.’ +

+

+ Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she + turned to the Mock Turtle, and said ‘What else had you to learn?’ +

+

+ ‘Well, there was Mystery,’ the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the + subjects on his flappers, ‘—Mystery, ancient and modern, with + Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, + that used to come once a week: he taught us Drawling, + Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.’ +

+

‘What was that like?’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Well, I can’t show it you myself,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘I’m too + stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.’ +

+

+ ‘Hadn’t time,’ said the Gryphon: ‘I went to the Classics master, though. + He was an old crab, he was.’ +

+

+ ‘I never went to him,’ the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: ‘he taught + Laughing and Grief, they used to say.’ +

+

+ ‘So he did, so he did,’ said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both + creatures hid their faces in their paws. +

+

+ ‘And how many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice, in a hurry to + change the subject. +

+

+ ‘Ten hours the first day,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘nine the next, and so + on.’ +

+

‘What a curious plan!’ exclaimed Alice.

+

+ ‘That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked: + ‘because they lessen from day to day.’ +

+

+ This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little + before she made her next remark. ‘Then the eleventh day must have been a + holiday?’ +

+

‘Of course it was,’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

‘And how did you manage on the twelfth?’ Alice went on eagerly.

+

+ ‘That’s enough about lessons,’ the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided + tone: ‘tell her something about the games now.’ +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ac7c07 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch09.md @@ -0,0 +1,315 @@ +--- +title: The Mock Turtle’s Story +class: story +--- + +## The Mock Turtle’s Story + +‘You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!’ said +the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, and they +walked off together. + +Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to +herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage +when they met in the kitchen. + +‘When _I’m_ a Duchess,’ she said to herself, (not in a very hopeful tone +though), ‘I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen _at all_. Soup does very +well without—Maybe it’s always pepper that makes people +hot-tempered,’ she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new +kind of rule, ‘and vinegar that makes them sour—and camomile that +makes them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such things that +make children sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew _that_: then they +wouldn’t be so stingy about it, you know—’ + +She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little +startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. ‘You’re thinking about +something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t tell you +just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit.’ + +‘Perhaps it hasn’t one,’ Alice ventured to remark. + +‘Tut, tut, child!’ said the Duchess. ‘Everything’s got a moral, if only +you can find it.’ And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice’s side as +she spoke. + +Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the +Duchess was _very_ ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right +height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably +sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well +as she could. + +‘The game’s going on rather better now,’ she said, by way of keeping up +the conversation a little. + +‘’Tis so,’ said the Duchess: ‘and the moral of that is—“Oh, ’tis +love, ’tis love, that makes the world go round!”’ + +‘Somebody said,’ Alice whispered, ‘that it’s done by everybody minding +their own business!’ + +‘Ah, well! It means much the same thing,’ said the Duchess, digging her +sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, ‘and the moral of +_that_ is—“Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of +themselves.”’ + +‘How fond she is of finding morals in things!’ Alice thought to herself. + +‘I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist,’ the +Duchess said after a pause: ‘the reason is, that I’m doubtful about the +temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?’ + +‘He might bite,’ Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to +have the experiment tried. + +‘Very true,’ said the Duchess: ‘flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the +moral of that is—“Birds of a feather flock together.”’ + +‘Only mustard isn’t a bird,’ Alice remarked. + +‘Right, as usual,’ said the Duchess: ‘what a clear way you have of putting +things!’ + +‘It’s a mineral, I _think_,’ said Alice. + +‘Of course it is,’ said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to +everything that Alice said; ‘there’s a large mustard-mine near here. And +the moral of that is—“The more there is of mine, the less there is +of yours.”’ + +‘Oh, I know!’ exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, +‘it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.’ + +‘I quite agree with you,’ said the Duchess; ‘and the moral of that is—“Be +what you would seem to be”—or if you’d like it put more simply—“Never +imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others +that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had +been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.”’ + +‘I think I should understand that better,’ Alice said very politely, ‘if I +had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.’ + +‘That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,’ the Duchess replied, in a +pleased tone. + +‘Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,’ said Alice. + +‘Oh, don’t talk about trouble!’ said the Duchess. ‘I make you a present of +everything I’ve said as yet.’ + +‘A cheap sort of present!’ thought Alice. ‘I’m glad they don’t give +birthday presents like that!’ But she did not venture to say it out loud. + +‘Thinking again?’ the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp little +chin. + +‘I’ve a right to think,’ said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel +a little worried. + +‘Just about as much right,’ said the Duchess, ‘as pigs have to fly; and +the m—’ + +But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died away, even +in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral,’ and the arm that was linked +into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen in +front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. + +‘A fine day, your Majesty!’ the Duchess began in a low, weak voice. + +‘Now, I give you fair warning,’ shouted the Queen, stamping on the ground +as she spoke; ‘either you or your head must be off, and that in about half +no time! Take your choice!’ + +The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. + +‘Let’s go on with the game,’ the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too +much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the +croquet-ground. + +The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and were +resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back +to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment’s delay would cost +them their lives. + +All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with +the other players, and shouting ‘Off with his head!’ or ‘Off with her +head!’ Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, +who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end +of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, +except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody and under sentence +of execution. + +Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, ‘Have you +seen the Mock Turtle yet?’ + +‘No,’ said Alice. ‘I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.’ + +‘It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,’ said the Queen. + +‘I never saw one, or heard of one,’ said Alice. + +‘Come on, then,’ said the Queen, ‘and he shall tell you his history,’ + +As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, to +the company generally, ‘You are all pardoned.’ ’Come, _that’s_ a good +thing!’ she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number +of executions the Queen had ordered. + +They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If you +don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) ‘Up, lazy thing!’ said +the Queen, ‘and take this young lady to see the Mock Turtle, and to hear +his history. I must go back and see after some executions I have ordered’; +and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with the Gryphon. Alice did not +quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would +be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage Queen: so she +waited. + +The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till she +was out of sight: then it chuckled. ‘What fun!’ said the Gryphon, half to +itself, half to Alice. + +‘What _is_ the fun?’ said Alice. + +‘Why, _she_,’ said the Gryphon. ‘It’s all her fancy, that: they never +executes nobody, you know. Come on!’ + +‘Everybody says “come on!” here,’ thought Alice, as she went slowly after +it: ‘I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!’ + +They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, +sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came +nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She +pitied him deeply. ‘What is his sorrow?’ she asked the Gryphon, and the +Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, ‘It’s all his +fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’ + +So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes +full of tears, but said nothing. + +‘This here young lady,’ said the Gryphon, ‘she wants for to know your +history, she do.’ + +‘I’ll tell it her,’ said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: ‘sit +down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’ + +So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to +herself, ‘I don’t see how he can _ever_ finish, if he doesn’t begin.’ But +she waited patiently. + +‘Once,’ said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, ‘I was a real +Turtle.’ + +These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an +occasional exclamation of ‘Hjckrrh!’ from the Gryphon, and the constant +heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and +saying, ‘Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,’ but she could not +help thinking there _must_ be more to come, so she sat still and said +nothing. + +‘When we were little,’ the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, +though still sobbing a little now and then, ‘we went to school in the sea. +The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—’ + +‘Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?’ Alice asked. + +‘We called him Tortoise because he taught us,’ said the Mock Turtle +angrily: ‘really you are very dull!’ + +‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question,’ +added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor Alice, +who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said to the +Mock Turtle, ‘Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all day about it!’ and he +went on in these words: + +‘Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe it—’ + +‘I never said I didn’t!’ interrupted Alice. + +‘You did,’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘Hold your tongue!’ added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. The +Mock Turtle went on. + +‘We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—’ + +‘_I’ve_ been to a day-school, too,’ said Alice; ‘you needn’t be so proud as +all that.’ + +‘With extras?’ asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously. + +‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘we learned French and music.’ + +‘And washing?’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘Certainly not!’ said Alice indignantly. + +‘Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,’ said the Mock Turtle in a +tone of great relief. ‘Now at _ours_ they had at the end of the bill, +“French, music, _and washing_—extra.”’ + +‘You couldn’t have wanted it much,’ said Alice; ‘living at the bottom of +the sea.’ + +‘I couldn’t afford to learn it.’ said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. ‘I only +took the regular course.’ + +‘What was that?’ inquired Alice. + +‘Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,’ the Mock Turtle replied; +‘and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, +Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’ + +‘I never heard of “Uglification,”’ Alice ventured to say. ‘What is it?’ + +The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. ‘What! Never heard of +uglifying!’ it exclaimed. ‘You know what to beautify is, I suppose?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Alice doubtfully: ‘it means—to—make—anything—prettier.’ + +‘Well, then,’ the Gryphon went on, ‘if you don’t know what to uglify is, +you _are_ a simpleton.’ + +Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she +turned to the Mock Turtle, and said ‘What else had you to learn?’ + +‘Well, there was Mystery,’ the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the +subjects on his flappers, ‘—Mystery, ancient and modern, with +Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, +that used to come once a week: _he_ taught us Drawling, Stretching, and +Fainting in Coils.’ + +‘What was _that_ like?’ said Alice. + +‘Well, I can’t show it you myself,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘I’m too stiff. +And the Gryphon never learnt it.’ + +‘Hadn’t time,’ said the Gryphon: ‘I went to the Classics master, though. +He was an old crab, _he_ was.’ + +‘I never went to him,’ the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: ‘he taught +Laughing and Grief, they used to say.’ + +‘So he did, so he did,’ said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both +creatures hid their faces in their paws. + +‘And how many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice, in a hurry to +change the subject. + +‘Ten hours the first day,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘nine the next, and so +on.’ + +‘What a curious plan!’ exclaimed Alice. + +‘That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked: ‘because +they lessen from day to day.’ + +This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little +before she made her next remark. ‘Then the eleventh day must have been a +holiday?’ + +‘Of course it was,’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘And how did you manage on the twelfth?’ Alice went on eagerly. + +‘That’s enough about lessons,’ the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided +tone: ‘tell her something about the games now.’ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22fc551 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.html @@ -0,0 +1,353 @@ + + + + + The Lobster Quadrille + + + + +
+

The Lobster Quadrille

+

+ The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across + his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or + two sobs choked his voice. ‘Same as if he had a bone in his throat,’ + said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the + back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears + running down his cheeks, he went on again:— +

+

+ ‘You may not have lived much under the sea—’ (‘I haven’t,’ said + Alice)—‘and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—’ (Alice + began to say ‘I once tasted—’ but checked herself hastily, and said ‘No, + never’) ‘—so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster + Quadrille is!’ +

+

‘No, indeed,’ said Alice. ‘What sort of a dance is it?’

+

+ ‘Why,’ said the Gryphon, ‘you first form into a line along the + sea-shore—’ +

+

+ ‘Two lines!’ cried the Mock Turtle. ‘Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; + then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—’ +

+

‘That generally takes some time,’ interrupted the Gryphon.

+

‘—you advance twice—’

+

‘Each with a lobster as a partner!’ cried the Gryphon.

+

+ ‘Of course,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘advance twice, set to partners—’ +

+

+ ‘—change lobsters, and retire in same order,’ continued the Gryphon. +

+

‘Then, you know,’ the Mock Turtle went on, ‘you throw the—’

+

‘The lobsters!’ shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.

+

‘—as far out to sea as you can—’

+

‘Swim after them!’ screamed the Gryphon.

+

+ ‘Turn a somersault in the sea!’ cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly + about. +

+

+ ‘Change lobsters again!’ yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. +

+

+ ‘Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,’ said the Mock + Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been + jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly + and quietly, and looked at Alice. +

+

‘It must be a very pretty dance,’ said Alice timidly.

+

‘Would you like to see a little of it?’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

‘Very much indeed,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Come, let’s try the first figure!’ said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. + ‘We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, you sing,’ said the Gryphon. ‘I’ve forgotten the words.’ +

+

+ So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then + treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their + forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly + and sadly:— +

+ 
 ‘“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.
+ “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
+
+ See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
+ They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?
+
+ Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
+ Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
+
+ “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
+ When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”
+ But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
+ Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
+
+ Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
+ Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
+
+ ‘"What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
+ “There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
+ The further off from England the nearer is to France—
+ Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
+
+ Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
+ Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”’
+

+ ‘Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,’ said Alice, feeling + very glad that it was over at last: ‘and I do so like that curious song + about the whiting!’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, as to the whiting,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘they—you’ve seen them, + of course?’ +

+

+ ‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘I’ve often seen them at dinn—’ she checked herself + hastily. +

+

+ ‘I don’t know where Dinn may be,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘but if you’ve + seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.’ +

+

+ ‘I believe so,’ Alice replied thoughtfully. ‘They have their tails in + their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.’ +

+

+ ‘You’re wrong about the crumbs,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘crumbs would all + wash off in the sea. But they have their tails in their mouths; + and the reason is—’ here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes.—‘Tell + her about the reason and all that,’ he said to the Gryphon. +

+

+ ‘The reason is,’ said the Gryphon, ‘that they would go with the + lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to + fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they + couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.’ +

+

+ ‘Thank you,’ said Alice, ‘it’s very interesting. I never knew so much + about a whiting before.’ +

+

+ ‘I can tell you more than that, if you like,’ said the Gryphon. ‘Do you + know why it’s called a whiting?’ +

+

‘I never thought about it,’ said Alice. ‘Why?’

+

+ ‘It does the boots and shoes,’ the Gryphon replied very + solemnly. +

+

+ Alice was thoroughly puzzled. ‘Does the boots and shoes!’ she repeated + in a wondering tone. +

+

+ ‘Why, what are your shoes done with?’ said the Gryphon. ‘I + mean, what makes them so shiny?’ +

+

+ Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her + answer. ‘They’re done with blacking, I believe.’ +

+

+ ‘Boots and shoes under the sea,’ the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, + ‘are done with a whiting. Now you know.’ +

+

+ ‘And what are they made of?’ Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. +

+

+ ‘Soles and eels, of course,’ the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: + ‘any shrimp could have told you that.’ +

+

+ ‘If I’d been the whiting,’ said Alice, whose thoughts were still running + on the song, ‘I’d have said to the porpoise, “Keep back, please: we + don’t want you with us!”’ +

+

+ ‘They were obliged to have him with them,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘no + wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.’ +

+

‘Wouldn’t it really?’ said Alice in a tone of great surprise.

+

+ ‘Of course not,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘why, if a fish came to + me, and told me he was going a journey, I should say “With what + porpoise?”’ +

+

‘Don’t you mean “purpose”?’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘I mean what I say,’ the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And + the Gryphon added ‘Come, let’s hear some of your adventures.’ +

+

+ ‘I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,’ said Alice + a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I + was a different person then.’ +

+

‘Explain all that,’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

+ ‘No, no! The adventures first,’ said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: + ‘explanations take such a dreadful time.’ +

+

+ So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first + saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, + the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened + their eyes and mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as + she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part + about her repeating ‘You are old, Father William,’ to the + Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock + Turtle drew a long breath, and said ‘That’s very curious.’ +

+

‘It’s all about as curious as it can be,’ said the Gryphon.

+

+ ‘It all came different!’ the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. ‘I + should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to + begin.’ He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of + authority over Alice. +

+

+ ‘Stand up and repeat “’Tis the voice of the sluggard,”’ said + the Gryphon. +

+

+ ‘How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!’ + thought Alice; ‘I might as well be at school at once.’ However, she got + up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster + Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came + very queer indeed:— +

+ 
  ‘’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,
+  “You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.”
+  As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
+  Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.’
+
+       [later editions continued as follows
+  When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
+  And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark,
+  But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
+  His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.]
+

+ ‘That’s different from what I used to say when I was a child,’ + said the Gryphon. +

+

+ ‘Well, I never heard it before,’ said the Mock Turtle; ‘but it sounds + uncommon nonsense.’ +

+

+ Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, + wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again. +

+

‘I should like to have it explained,’ said the Mock Turtle.

+

+ ‘She can’t explain it,’ said the Gryphon hastily. ‘Go on with the next + verse.’ +

+

+ ‘But about his toes?’ the Mock Turtle persisted. ‘How could he + turn them out with his nose, you know?’ +

+

+ ‘It’s the first position in dancing.’ Alice said; but was dreadfully + puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. +

+

+ ‘Go on with the next verse,’ the Gryphon repeated impatiently: ‘it + begins “I passed by his garden.”’ +

+

+ Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come + wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:— +

+

+ 
  ‘I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
+  How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—’
+
+    [later editions continued as follows
+  The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
+  While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
+  When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
+  Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon:
+  While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
+  And concluded the banquet—]
+

+ ‘What is the use of repeating all that stuff,’ the Mock Turtle + interrupted, ‘if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the most + confusing thing I ever heard!’ +

+

+ ‘Yes, I think you’d better leave off,’ said the Gryphon: and Alice was + only too glad to do so. +

+

+ ‘Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?’ the Gryphon went + on. ‘Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,’ Alice + replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, + ‘Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her “Turtle Soup,” will + you, old fellow?’ +

+

+ The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked + with sobs, to sing this:— +

+ 
‘Beautiful Soup, so rich and green,
+Waiting in a hot tureen!
+Who for such dainties would not stoop?
+Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
+Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!
+Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
+Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
+Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
+Beautiful, beautiful Soup!
+
+’Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
+Game, or any other dish?
+Who would not give all else for two
+Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
+Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
+Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
+Beau—ootiful Soo—oop!
+Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
+Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!’
+

+ ‘Chorus again!’ cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun to + repeat it, when a cry of ‘The trial’s beginning!’ was heard in the + distance. +

+

+ ‘Come on!’ cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried + off, without waiting for the end of the song. +

+

+ ‘What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only + answered ‘Come on!’ and ran the faster, while more and more faintly + came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:— +

+ 
   ‘Soo—oop of the e—e—evening,
+     Beautiful, beautiful Soup!’
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8430793 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch10.md @@ -0,0 +1,308 @@ +--- +title: The Lobster Quadrille +class: story +--- + +## The Lobster Quadrille + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his +eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs +choked his voice. ‘Same as if he had a bone in his throat,’ said the +Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back. At +last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his +cheeks, he went on again:— + +‘You may not have lived much under the sea—’ (‘I haven’t,’ said +Alice)—‘and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—’ +(Alice began to say ‘I once tasted—’ but checked herself hastily, +and said ‘No, never’) ‘—so you can have no idea what a delightful +thing a Lobster Quadrille is!’ + +‘No, indeed,’ said Alice. ‘What sort of a dance is it?’ + +‘Why,’ said the Gryphon, ‘you first form into a line along the sea-shore—’ + +‘Two lines!’ cried the Mock Turtle. ‘Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; +then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—’ + +‘_That_ generally takes some time,’ interrupted the Gryphon. + +‘—you advance twice—’ + +‘Each with a lobster as a partner!’ cried the Gryphon. + +‘Of course,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘advance twice, set to partners—’ + +‘—change lobsters, and retire in same order,’ continued the Gryphon. + +‘Then, you know,’ the Mock Turtle went on, ‘you throw the—’ + +‘The lobsters!’ shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. + +‘—as far out to sea as you can—’ + +‘Swim after them!’ screamed the Gryphon. + +‘Turn a somersault in the sea!’ cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly +about. + +‘Change lobsters again!’ yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. + +‘Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,’ said the Mock +Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been +jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and +quietly, and looked at Alice. + +‘It must be a very pretty dance,’ said Alice timidly. + +‘Would you like to see a little of it?’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘Very much indeed,’ said Alice. + +‘Come, let’s try the first figure!’ said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. +‘We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?’ + +‘Oh, _you_ sing,’ said the Gryphon. ‘I’ve forgotten the words.’ + +So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then +treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws +to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:— + +``` + ‘“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail. + “There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. + + See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! + They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance? + + Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? + Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance? + + “You can really have no notion how delightful it will be + When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!” + But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance— + Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. + + Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. + Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. + + ‘"What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied. + “There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. + The further off from England the nearer is to France— + Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. + + Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? + Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”’ +``` + +‘Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,’ said Alice, feeling +very glad that it was over at last: ‘and I do so like that curious song +about the whiting!’ + +‘Oh, as to the whiting,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘they—you’ve seen +them, of course?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘I’ve often seen them at dinn—’ she checked +herself hastily. + +‘I don’t know where Dinn may be,’ said the Mock Turtle, ‘but if you’ve +seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.’ + +‘I believe so,’ Alice replied thoughtfully. ‘They have their tails in +their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.’ + +‘You’re wrong about the crumbs,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘crumbs would all +wash off in the sea. But they _have_ their tails in their mouths; and the +reason is—’ here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes.—‘Tell +her about the reason and all that,’ he said to the Gryphon. + +‘The reason is,’ said the Gryphon, ‘that they _would_ go with the lobsters +to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long +way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn’t get +them out again. That’s all.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said Alice, ‘it’s very interesting. I never knew so much +about a whiting before.’ + +‘I can tell you more than that, if you like,’ said the Gryphon. ‘Do you +know why it’s called a whiting?’ + +‘I never thought about it,’ said Alice. ‘Why?’ + +‘_It does the boots and shoes_,’ the Gryphon replied very solemnly. + +Alice was thoroughly puzzled. ‘Does the boots and shoes!’ she repeated in +a wondering tone. + +‘Why, what are _your_ shoes done with?’ said the Gryphon. ‘I mean, what +makes them so shiny?’ + +Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her +answer. ‘They’re done with blacking, I believe.’ + +‘Boots and shoes under the sea,’ the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, ‘are +done with a whiting. Now you know.’ + +‘And what are they made of?’ Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. + +‘Soles and eels, of course,’ the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: ‘any +shrimp could have told you that.’ + +‘If I’d been the whiting,’ said Alice, whose thoughts were still running +on the song, ‘I’d have said to the porpoise, “Keep back, please: we don’t +want _you_ with us!”’ + +‘They were obliged to have him with them,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘no wise +fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.’ + +‘Wouldn’t it really?’ said Alice in a tone of great surprise. + +‘Of course not,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘why, if a fish came to _me_, and +told me he was going a journey, I should say “With what porpoise?”’ + +‘Don’t you mean “purpose”?’ said Alice. + +‘I mean what I say,’ the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And the +Gryphon added ‘Come, let’s hear some of _your_ adventures.’ + +‘I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,’ said +Alice a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because +I was a different person then.’ + +‘Explain all that,’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘No, no! The adventures first,’ said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: +‘explanations take such a dreadful time.’ + +So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first +saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the +two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes +and mouths so _very_ wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her +listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her +repeating ‘_You are old, Father William_,’ to the Caterpillar, and the words +all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and +said ‘That’s very curious.’ + +‘It’s all about as curious as it can be,’ said the Gryphon. + +‘It all came different!’ the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. ‘I should +like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to begin.’ He +looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over +Alice. + +‘Stand up and repeat “’_Tis the voice of the sluggard_,”’ said the Gryphon. + +‘How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!’ thought +Alice; ‘I might as well be at school at once.’ However, she got up, and +began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille, +that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer +indeed:— + +``` + ‘’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, + “You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.” + As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose + Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.’ + + [later editions continued as follows + When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, + And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, + But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, + His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.] +``` + +‘That’s different from what _I_ used to say when I was a child,’ said the +Gryphon. + +‘Well, I never heard it before,’ said the Mock Turtle; ‘but it sounds +uncommon nonsense.’ + +Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering +if anything would _ever_ happen in a natural way again. + +‘I should like to have it explained,’ said the Mock Turtle. + +‘She can’t explain it,’ said the Gryphon hastily. ‘Go on with the next +verse.’ + +‘But about his toes?’ the Mock Turtle persisted. ‘How _could_ he turn them +out with his nose, you know?’ + +‘It’s the first position in dancing.’ Alice said; but was dreadfully +puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. + +‘Go on with the next verse,’ the Gryphon repeated impatiently: ‘it begins +“_I passed by his garden_.”’ + +Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come +wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:— + +

+ +``` + ‘I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, + How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—’ + + [later editions continued as follows + The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, + While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. + When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, + Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: + While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, + And concluded the banquet—] +``` + +‘What _is_ the use of repeating all that stuff,’ the Mock Turtle +interrupted, ‘if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the most +confusing thing _I_ ever heard!’ + +‘Yes, I think you’d better leave off,’ said the Gryphon: and Alice was +only too glad to do so. + +‘Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?’ the Gryphon went +on. ‘Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?’ + +‘Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,’ Alice replied, +so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, ‘Hm! No +accounting for tastes! Sing her “_Turtle Soup_,” will you, old fellow?’ + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with +sobs, to sing this:— + +``` +‘Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, +Waiting in a hot tureen! +Who for such dainties would not stoop? +Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! +Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! +Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, +Beautiful, beautiful Soup! + +’Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, +Game, or any other dish? +Who would not give all else for two +Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? +Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? +Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, +Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!’ +``` + +‘Chorus again!’ cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun to +repeat it, when a cry of ‘The trial’s beginning!’ was heard in the +distance. + +‘Come on!’ cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried +off, without waiting for the end of the song. + +‘What trial is it?’ Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only answered +‘Come on!’ and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried +on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:— + +``` + ‘Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, + Beautiful, beautiful Soup!’ +``` diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8844d14 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.html @@ -0,0 +1,293 @@ + + + + + Who Stole the Tarts? + + + + +
+

Who Stole the Tarts?

+

+ The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they + arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little + birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was + standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard + him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, + and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court + was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, + that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them—‘I wish they’d get the + trial done,’ she thought, ‘and hand round the refreshments!’ But there + seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about + her, to pass away the time. +

+

+ Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read + about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the + name of nearly everything there. ‘That’s the judge,’ she said to + herself, ‘because of his great wig.’ +

+

+ The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the + wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did + not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. +

+

+ ‘And that’s the jury-box,’ thought Alice, ‘and those twelve creatures,’ + (she was obliged to say ‘creatures,’ you see, because some of them were + animals, and some were birds,) ‘I suppose they are the jurors.’ She said + this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of + it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her + age knew the meaning of it at all. However, ‘jury-men’ would have done + just as well. +

+

+ The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. ‘What are they + doing?’ Alice whispered to the Gryphon. ‘They can’t have anything to put + down yet, before the trial’s begun.’ +

+

+ ‘They’re putting down their names,’ the Gryphon whispered in reply, ‘for + fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.’ +

+

+ ‘Stupid things!’ Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped + hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, ‘Silence in the court!’ and the + King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who + was talking. +

+

+ Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, + that all the jurors were writing down ‘stupid things!’ on their slates, + and she could even make out that one of them didn’t know how to spell + ‘stupid,’ and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. ‘A nice + muddle their slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!’ thought Alice. +

+

+ One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice + could + not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and + very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly + that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out + at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was + obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was + of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate. +

+

‘Herald, read the accusation!’ said the King.

+

+ On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then + unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:— +

+ 
   ‘The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
+      All on a summer day:
+    The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,
+      And took them quite away!’
+

‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury.

+

+ ‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rabbit hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great + deal to come before that!’ +

+

+ ‘Call the first witness,’ said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three + blasts on the trumpet, and called out, ‘First witness!’ +

+

+ The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand + and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. ‘I beg pardon, your + Majesty,’ he began, ‘for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite finished + my tea when I was sent for.’ +

+

‘You ought to have finished,’ said the King. ‘When did you begin?’

+

+ The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the + court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. ‘Fourteenth of March, I + think it was,’ he said. +

+

‘Fifteenth,’ said the March Hare.

+

‘Sixteenth,’ added the Dormouse.

+

+ ‘Write that down,’ the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote + down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and + reduced the answer to shillings and pence. +

+

‘Take off your hat,’ the King said to the Hatter.

+

‘It isn’t mine,’ said the Hatter.

+

+ ‘Stolen!’ the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who + instantly made a memorandum of the fact. +

+

+ ‘I keep them to sell,’ the Hatter added as an explanation; ‘I’ve none of + my own. I’m a hatter.’ +

+

+ Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, + who turned pale and fidgeted. +

+

+ ‘Give your evidence,’ said the King; ‘and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have + you executed on the spot.’ +

+

+ This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from + one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his + confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the + bread-and-butter. +

+

+ Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled + her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to + grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave + the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as + long as there was room for her. +

+

+ ‘I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.’ said the Dormouse, who was sitting + next to her. ‘I can hardly breathe.’ +

+

‘I can’t help it,’ said Alice very meekly: ‘I’m growing.’

+

‘You’ve no right to grow here,’ said the Dormouse.

+

+ ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said Alice more boldly: ‘you know you’re growing + too.’ +

+

+ ‘Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,’ said the Dormouse: ‘not + in that ridiculous fashion.’ And he got up very sulkily and crossed over + to the other side of the court. +

+

+ All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, + just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers + of the court, ‘Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!’ on + which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off. +

+

+ ‘Give your evidence,’ the King repeated angrily, ‘or I’ll have you + executed, whether you’re nervous or not.’ +

+

+ ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, + ‘—and I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the + bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—’ +

+

‘The twinkling of the what?’ said the King.

+

‘It began with the tea,’ the Hatter replied.

+

+ ‘Of course twinkling begins with a T!’ said the King sharply. ‘Do you + take me for a dunce? Go on!’ +

+

+ ‘I’m a poor man,’ the Hatter went on, ‘and most things twinkled after + that—only the March Hare said—’ +

+

‘I didn’t!’ the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.

+

‘You did!’ said the Hatter.

+

‘I deny it!’ said the March Hare.

+

‘He denies it,’ said the King: ‘leave out that part.’

+

+ ‘Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—’ the Hatter went on, looking + anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied + nothing, being fast asleep. +

+

+ ‘After that,’ continued the Hatter, ‘I cut some more bread-and-butter—’ +

+

‘But what did the Dormouse say?’ one of the jury asked.

+

‘That I can’t remember,’ said the Hatter.

+

+ ‘You must remember,’ remarked the King, ‘or I’ll have you + executed.’ +

+

+ The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went + down on one knee. ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ he began. +

+

‘You’re a very poor speaker,’ said the King.

+

+ Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by + the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just + explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied + up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, + head first, and then sat upon it.) +

+

+ ‘I’m glad I’ve seen that done,’ thought Alice. ‘I’ve so often read in + the newspapers, at the end of trials, “There was some attempts at + applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the + court,” and I never understood what it meant till now.’ +

+

+ ‘If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,’ continued the + King. +

+

+ ‘I can’t go no lower,’ said the Hatter: ‘I’m on the floor, as it is.’ +

+

‘Then you may sit down,’ the King replied.

+

Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.

+

+ ‘Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!’ thought Alice. ‘Now we shall get + on better.’ +

+

+ ‘I’d rather finish my tea,’ said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the + Queen, who was reading the list of singers. +

+

+ ‘You may go,’ said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, + without even waiting to put his shoes on. +

+

+ ‘—and just take his head off outside,’ the Queen added to one of the + officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get + to the door. +

+

‘Call the next witness!’ said the King.

+

+ The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in + her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the + court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. +

+

‘Give your evidence,’ said the King.

+

‘Shan’t,’ said the cook.

+

+ The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, + ‘Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.’ +

+

+ ‘Well, if I must, I must,’ the King said, with a melancholy air, and, + after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were + nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, ‘What are tarts made of?’ +

+

‘Pepper, mostly,’ said the cook.

+

‘Treacle,’ said a sleepy voice behind her.

+

+ ‘Collar that Dormouse,’ the Queen shrieked out. ‘Behead that Dormouse! + Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his + whiskers!’ +

+

+ For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse + turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had + disappeared. +

+

+ ‘Never mind!’ said the King, with an air of great relief. ‘Call the next + witness.’ And he added in an undertone to the Queen, ‘Really, my dear, + you + must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!’ +

+

+ Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very + curious to see what the next witness would be like, ‘—for they haven’t + got much evidence yet,’ she said to herself. Imagine her + surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill + little voice, the name ‘Alice!’ +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92f2aeb --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch11.md @@ -0,0 +1,258 @@ +--- +title: Who Stole the Tarts? +class: story +--- + +## Who Stole the Tarts? + +The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they +arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little +birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was +standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; +and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a +scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a +table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it +made Alice quite hungry to look at them—‘I wish they’d get the trial +done,’ she thought, ‘and hand round the refreshments!’ But there seemed to +be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to +pass away the time. + +Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about +them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of +nearly everything there. ‘That’s the judge,’ she said to herself, ‘because +of his great wig.’ + +The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the +wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did +not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. + +‘And that’s the jury-box,’ thought Alice, ‘and those twelve creatures,’ +(she was obliged to say ‘creatures,’ you see, because some of them were +animals, and some were birds,) ‘I suppose they are the jurors.’ She said +this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of +it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her +age knew the meaning of it at all. However, ‘jury-men’ would have done +just as well. + +The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. ‘What are they +doing?’ Alice whispered to the Gryphon. ‘They can’t have anything to put +down yet, before the trial’s begun.’ + +‘They’re putting down their names,’ the Gryphon whispered in reply, ‘for +fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.’ + +‘Stupid things!’ Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped +hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, ‘Silence in the court!’ and the +King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was +talking. + +Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that +all the jurors were writing down ‘stupid things!’ on their slates, and she +could even make out that one of them didn’t know how to spell ‘stupid,’ +and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. ‘A nice muddle their +slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!’ thought Alice. + +One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could +_not_ stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon +found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the +poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out at all what +had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to +write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little +use, as it left no mark on the slate. + +‘Herald, read the accusation!’ said the King. + +On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then +unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:— + +``` + ‘The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, + All on a summer day: + The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, + And took them quite away!’ +``` + +‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury. + +‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rabbit hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great deal +to come before that!’ + +‘Call the first witness,’ said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three +blasts on the trumpet, and called out, ‘First witness!’ + +The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand and +a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. ‘I beg pardon, your Majesty,’ he +began, ‘for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite finished my tea when I +was sent for.’ + +‘You ought to have finished,’ said the King. ‘When did you begin?’ + +The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the court, +arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. ‘Fourteenth of March, I _think_ it was,’ he +said. + +‘Fifteenth,’ said the March Hare. + +‘Sixteenth,’ added the Dormouse. + +‘Write that down,’ the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote +down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced +the answer to shillings and pence. + +‘Take off your hat,’ the King said to the Hatter. + +‘It isn’t mine,’ said the Hatter. + +‘_Stolen_!’ the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a +memorandum of the fact. + +‘I keep them to sell,’ the Hatter added as an explanation; ‘I’ve none of +my own. I’m a hatter.’ + +Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, who +turned pale and fidgeted. + +‘Give your evidence,’ said the King; ‘and don’t be nervous, or I’ll have +you executed on the spot.’ + +This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from +one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his confusion +he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter. + +Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her +a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow +larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the +court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long +as there was room for her. + +‘I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.’ said the Dormouse, who was sitting next +to her. ‘I can hardly breathe.’ + +‘I can’t help it,’ said Alice very meekly: ‘I’m growing.’ + +‘You’ve no right to grow _here_,’ said the Dormouse. + +‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said Alice more boldly: ‘you know you’re growing +too.’ + +‘Yes, but _I_ grow at a reasonable pace,’ said the Dormouse: ‘not in that +ridiculous fashion.’ And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the +other side of the court. + +All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, +just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of +the court, ‘Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!’ on +which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off. + +‘Give your evidence,’ the King repeated angrily, ‘or I’ll have you +executed, whether you’re nervous or not.’ + +‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, ‘—and +I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the +bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—’ + +‘The twinkling of the _what_?’ said the King. + +‘It _began_ with the tea,’ the Hatter replied. + +‘Of course twinkling begins with a T!’ said the King sharply. ‘Do you take +me for a dunce? Go on!’ + +‘I’m a poor man,’ the Hatter went on, ‘and most things twinkled after that—only +the March Hare said—’ + +‘I didn’t!’ the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry. + +‘You did!’ said the Hatter. + +‘I deny it!’ said the March Hare. + +‘He denies it,’ said the King: ‘leave out that part.’ + +‘Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—’ the Hatter went on, looking +anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied +nothing, being fast asleep. + +‘After that,’ continued the Hatter, ‘I cut some more bread-and-butter—’ + +‘But what did the Dormouse say?’ one of the jury asked. + +‘That I can’t remember,’ said the Hatter. + +‘You _must_ remember,’ remarked the King, ‘or I’ll have you executed.’ + +The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went +down on one knee. ‘I’m a poor man, your Majesty,’ he began. + +‘You’re a _very_ poor _speaker_,’ said the King. + +Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the +officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just explain +to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the +mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and +then sat upon it.) + +‘I’m glad I’ve seen that done,’ thought Alice. ‘I’ve so often read in the +newspapers, at the end of trials, “There was some attempts at applause, +which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,” and I +never understood what it meant till now.’ + +‘If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,’ continued the King. + +‘I can’t go no lower,’ said the Hatter: ‘I’m on the floor, as it is.’ + +‘Then you may _sit_ down,’ the King replied. + +Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. + +‘Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!’ thought Alice. ‘Now we shall get on +better.’ + +‘I’d rather finish my tea,’ said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the +Queen, who was reading the list of singers. + +‘You may go,’ said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, +without even waiting to put his shoes on. + +‘—and just take his head off outside,’ the Queen added to one of the +officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to +the door. + +‘Call the next witness!’ said the King. + +The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in her +hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by +the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. + +‘Give your evidence,’ said the King. + +‘Shan’t,’ said the cook. + +The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, +‘Your Majesty must cross-examine _this_ witness.’ + +‘Well, if I must, I must,’ the King said, with a melancholy air, and, +after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly +out of sight, he said in a deep voice, ‘What are tarts made of?’ + +‘Pepper, mostly,’ said the cook. + +‘Treacle,’ said a sleepy voice behind her. + +‘Collar that Dormouse,’ the Queen shrieked out. ‘Behead that Dormouse! +Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his +whiskers!’ + +For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse +turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had +disappeared. + +‘Never mind!’ said the King, with an air of great relief. ‘Call the next +witness.’ And he added in an undertone to the Queen, ‘Really, my dear, _you_ +must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead ache!’ + +Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very +curious to see what the next witness would be like, ‘—for they +haven’t got much evidence _yet_,’ she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, +when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the +name ‘Alice!’ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a31c3e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.html @@ -0,0 +1,328 @@ + + + + + Alice’s Evidence + + + + +
+

Alice’s Evidence

+

+ ‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how + large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a + hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, + upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there + they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish + she had accidentally upset the week before. +

+

+ ‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’ she exclaimed in a tone of great + dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the + accident of the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague + sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the + jury-box, or they would die. +

+

+ ‘The trial cannot proceed,’ said the King in a very grave voice, ‘until + all the jurymen are back in their proper places—all,’ he + repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. +

+

+ Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put + the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its + tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got + it out again, and put it right; ‘not that it signifies much,’ she said + to herself; ‘I should think it would be quite as much use in + the trial one way up as the other.’ +

+

+ As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being + upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to + them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the + accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do + anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the + court. +

+

‘What do you know about this business?’ the King said to Alice.

+

‘Nothing,’ said Alice.

+

‘Nothing whatever?’ persisted the King.

+

‘Nothing whatever,’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘That’s very important,’ the King said, turning to the jury. They were + just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit + interrupted: ‘Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,’ he + said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as + he spoke. +

+

+ ‘Unimportant, of course, I meant,’ the King hastily said, and + went on to himself in an undertone, +

+

+ ‘important—unimportant—unimportant—important—’ as if he were trying + which word sounded best. +

+

+ Some of the jury wrote it down ‘important,’ and some ‘unimportant.’ + Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; + ‘but it doesn’t matter a bit,’ she thought to herself. +

+

+ At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in + his note-book, cackled out ‘Silence!’ and read out from his book, ‘Rule + Forty-two. + All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.’ +

+

Everybody looked at Alice.

+

‘I’m not a mile high,’ said Alice.

+

‘You are,’ said the King.

+

‘Nearly two miles high,’ added the Queen.

+

+ ‘Well, I shan’t go, at any rate,’ said Alice: ‘besides, that’s not a + regular rule: you invented it just now.’ +

+

‘It’s the oldest rule in the book,’ said the King.

+

‘Then it ought to be Number One,’ said Alice.

+

+ The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. ‘Consider your + verdict,’ he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. +

+

+ ‘There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,’ said the White + Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; ‘this paper has just been picked + up.’ +

+

‘What’s in it?’ said the Queen.

+

+ ‘I haven’t opened it yet,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘but it seems to be a + letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.’ +

+

+ ‘It must have been that,’ said the King, ‘unless it was written to + nobody, which isn’t usual, you know.’ +

+

‘Who is it directed to?’ said one of the jurymen.

+

+ ‘It isn’t directed at all,’ said the White Rabbit; ‘in fact, there’s + nothing written on the outside.’ He unfolded the paper as he + spoke, and added ‘It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of verses.’ +

+

+ ‘Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?’ asked another of the jurymen. +

+

+ ‘No, they’re not,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘and that’s the queerest thing + about it.’ (The jury all looked puzzled.) +

+

+ ‘He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,’ said the King. (The jury + all brightened up again.) +

+

+ ‘Please your Majesty,’ said the Knave, ‘I didn’t write it, and they + can’t prove I did: there’s no name signed at the end.’ +

+

+ ‘If you didn’t sign it,’ said the King, ‘that only makes the matter + worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you’d have + signed your name like an honest man.’ +

+

+ There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really + clever thing the King had said that day. +

+

‘That proves his guilt,’ said the Queen.

+

+ ‘It proves nothing of the sort!’ said Alice. ‘Why, you don’t even know + what they’re about!’ +

+

‘Read them,’ said the King.

+

+ The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please + your Majesty?’ he asked. +

+

+ ‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you + come to the end: then stop.’ +

+

These were the verses the White Rabbit read:—

+ 
   ‘They told me you had been to her,
+    And mentioned me to him:
+   She gave me a good character,
+    But said I could not swim.
+
+   He sent them word I had not gone
+    (We know it to be true):
+   If she should push the matter on,
+    What would become of you?
+
+   I gave her one, they gave him two,
+    You gave us three or more;
+   They all returned from him to you,
+    Though they were mine before.
+
+   If I or she should chance to be
+    Involved in this affair,
+   He trusts to you to set them free,
+    Exactly as we were.
+
+   My notion was that you had been
+    (Before she had this fit)
+   An obstacle that came between
+    Him, and ourselves, and it.
+
+   Don’t let him know she liked them best,
+    For this must ever be
+   A secret, kept from all the rest,
+    Between yourself and me.’
+

+ ‘That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,’ said the + King, rubbing his hands; ‘so now let the jury—’ +

+

+ ‘If any one of them can explain it,’ said Alice, (she had grown so large + in the last few minutes that she wasn’t a bit afraid of interrupting + him,) ‘I’ll give him sixpence. I don’t believe there’s an atom + of meaning in it.’ +

+

+ The jury all wrote down on their slates, ‘She doesn’t believe + there’s an atom of meaning in it,’ but none of them attempted to explain + the paper. +

+

+ ‘If there’s no meaning in it,’ said the King, ‘that saves a world of + trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t know,’ + he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them + with one eye; ‘I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. “—said I could not swim—” you can’t swim, can you?’ he added, turning to the Knave. +

+

+ The Knave shook his head sadly. ‘Do I look like it?’ he said. (Which he + certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard.) +

+

+ ‘All right, so far,’ said the King, and he went on muttering over the + verses to himself: ‘“We know it to be true—” that’s the jury, + of course—“I gave her one, they gave him two—” why, that must + be what he did with the tarts, you know—’ +

+

+ ‘But, it goes on “they all returned from him to you,”’ said + Alice. +

+

+ ‘Why, there they are!’ said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts + on the table. ‘Nothing can be clearer than that. Then + again—“before she had this fit—” you never had fits, my dear, I + think?’ he said to the Queen. +

+

+ ‘Never!’ said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as + she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his + slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily + began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as + it lasted.) +

+

+ ‘Then the words don’t fit you,’ said the King, looking round + the court with a smile. There was a dead silence. +

+

+ ‘It’s a pun!’ the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, + ‘Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for about the + twentieth time that day. +

+

‘No, no!’ said the Queen. ‘Sentence first—verdict afterwards.’

+

+ ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Alice loudly. ‘The idea of having the + sentence first!’ +

+

‘Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple.

+

‘I won’t!’ said Alice.

+

+ ‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody + moved. +

+

+ ‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this + time.) ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’ +

+

+ At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon + her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and + tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her + head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead + leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. +

+

+ ‘Wake up, Alice dear!’ said her sister; ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve + had!’ +

+

+ ‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her + sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures + of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had + finished, her sister kissed her, and said, ‘It was a curious + dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’ + So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, + what a wonderful dream it had been. +

+

+ But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her + hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her + wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and + this was her dream:— +

+

+ First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny + hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking + up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that + queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that + would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or + seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the + strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. +

+

+ The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the + frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she + could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends + shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen + ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby + was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed + around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the + Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, + filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock + Turtle. +

+

+ So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in + Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all + would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the + wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling + teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill + cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the + shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she + knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of + the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s + heavy sobs. +

+

+ Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers + would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would + keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her + childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and + make their + eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the + dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their + simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, + remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f32d743 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/ch12.md @@ -0,0 +1,284 @@ +--- +title: Alice’s Evidence +class: story +--- + +## Alice’s Evidence + +‘Here!’ cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how +large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a +hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, +upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there +they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish +she had accidentally upset the week before. + +‘Oh, I _beg_ your pardon!’ she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and +began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of +the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea +that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or +they would die. + +‘The trial cannot proceed,’ said the King in a very grave voice, ‘until +all the jurymen are back in their proper places—_all_,’ he repeated +with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. + +Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the +Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail +about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got it out +again, and put it right; ‘not that it signifies much,’ she said to +herself; ‘I should think it would be _quite_ as much use in the trial one +way up as the other.’ + +As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, +and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they +set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all +except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit +with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court. + +‘What do you know about this business?’ the King said to Alice. + +‘Nothing,’ said Alice. + +‘Nothing _whatever_?’ persisted the King. + +‘Nothing whatever,’ said Alice. + +‘That’s very important,’ the King said, turning to the jury. They were +just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit +interrupted: ‘*Un*important, your Majesty means, of course,’ he said in a +very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke. + +‘*Un*important, of course, I meant,’ the King hastily said, and went on to +himself in an undertone, + +‘important—unimportant—unimportant—important—’ as +if he were trying which word sounded best. + +Some of the jury wrote it down ‘important,’ and some ‘unimportant.’ Alice +could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; ‘but it +doesn’t matter a bit,’ she thought to herself. + +At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in his +note-book, cackled out ‘Silence!’ and read out from his book, ‘Rule +Forty-two. _All persons more than a mile high to leave the court_.’ + +Everybody looked at Alice. + +‘_I’m_ not a mile high,’ said Alice. + +‘You are,’ said the King. + +‘Nearly two miles high,’ added the Queen. + +‘Well, I shan’t go, at any rate,’ said Alice: ‘besides, that’s not a +regular rule: you invented it just now.’ + +‘It’s the oldest rule in the book,’ said the King. + +‘Then it ought to be Number One,’ said Alice. + +The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. ‘Consider your +verdict,’ he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. + +‘There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,’ said the White +Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; ‘this paper has just been picked up.’ + +‘What’s in it?’ said the Queen. + +‘I haven’t opened it yet,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘but it seems to be a +letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.’ + +‘It must have been that,’ said the King, ‘unless it was written to nobody, +which isn’t usual, you know.’ + +‘Who is it directed to?’ said one of the jurymen. + +‘It isn’t directed at all,’ said the White Rabbit; ‘in fact, there’s +nothing written on the _outside_.’ He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and +added ‘It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of verses.’ + +‘Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?’ asked another of the jurymen. + +‘No, they’re not,’ said the White Rabbit, ‘and that’s the queerest thing +about it.’ (The jury all looked puzzled.) + +‘He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,’ said the King. (The jury all +brightened up again.) + +‘Please your Majesty,’ said the Knave, ‘I didn’t write it, and they can’t +prove I did: there’s no name signed at the end.’ + +‘If you didn’t sign it,’ said the King, ‘that only makes the matter worse. +You _must_ have meant some mischief, or else you’d have signed your name +like an honest man.’ + +There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really +clever thing the King had said that day. + +‘That _proves_ his guilt,’ said the Queen. + +‘It proves nothing of the sort!’ said Alice. ‘Why, you don’t even know +what they’re about!’ + +‘Read them,’ said the King. + +The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please your +Majesty?’ he asked. + +‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you come +to the end: then stop.’ + +These were the verses the White Rabbit read:— + +``` + ‘They told me you had been to her, + And mentioned me to him: + She gave me a good character, + But said I could not swim. + + He sent them word I had not gone + (We know it to be true): + If she should push the matter on, + What would become of you? + + I gave her one, they gave him two, + You gave us three or more; + They all returned from him to you, + Though they were mine before. + + If I or she should chance to be + Involved in this affair, + He trusts to you to set them free, + Exactly as we were. + + My notion was that you had been + (Before she had this fit) + An obstacle that came between + Him, and ourselves, and it. + + Don’t let him know she liked them best, + For this must ever be + A secret, kept from all the rest, + Between yourself and me.’ +``` + +‘That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,’ said the +King, rubbing his hands; ‘so now let the jury—’ + +‘If any one of them can explain it,’ said Alice, (she had grown so large +in the last few minutes that she wasn’t a bit afraid of interrupting him,) +‘I’ll give him sixpence. _I_ don’t believe there’s an atom of meaning +in it.’ + +The jury all wrote down on their slates, ‘_She_ doesn’t believe there’s an +atom of meaning in it,’ but none of them attempted to explain the paper. + +‘If there’s no meaning in it,’ said the King, ‘that saves a world of +trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t know,’ +he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with +one eye; ‘I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. “—_said I +could not swim_—” you can’t swim, can you?’ he added, turning to the +Knave. + +The Knave shook his head sadly. ‘Do I look like it?’ he said. (Which he +certainly did _not_, being made entirely of cardboard.) + +‘All right, so far,’ said the King, and he went on muttering over the +verses to himself: ‘“_We know it to be true_—” that’s the jury, of +course—“_I gave her one, they gave him two_—” why, that must be +what he did with the tarts, you know—’ + +‘But, it goes on “_they all returned from him to you_,”’ said Alice. + +‘Why, there they are!’ said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts +on the table. ‘Nothing can be clearer than _that_. Then again—“_before +she had this fit_—” you never had fits, my dear, I think?’ he said to +the Queen. + +‘Never!’ said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard as +she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his slate +with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began +again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it +lasted.) + +‘Then the words don’t _fit_ you,’ said the King, looking round the court +with a smile. There was a dead silence. + +‘It’s a pun!’ the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, +‘Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for about the +twentieth time that day. + +‘No, no!’ said the Queen. ‘Sentence first—verdict afterwards.’ + +‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Alice loudly. ‘The idea of having the sentence +first!’ + +‘Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple. + +‘I won’t!’ said Alice. + +‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody +moved. + +‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this +time.) ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’ + +At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon +her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried +to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in +the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that +had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. + +‘Wake up, Alice dear!’ said her sister; ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve +had!’ + +‘Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her sister, +as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers +that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her +sister kissed her, and said, ‘It _was_ a curious dream, dear, certainly: but +now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’ So Alice got up and ran off, +thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had +been. + +But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her +hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her +wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and +this was her dream:— + +First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands +were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into +hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer +little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that _would_ always +get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, +the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her +little sister’s dream. + +The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the +frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she +could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends +shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering +off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was +sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once +more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s +slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the +air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle. + +So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, +though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to +dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the +pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would +change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice +of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the +Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the +confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the +cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy +sobs. + +Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, +in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, +through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: +and how she would gather about her other little children, and make _their_ +eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the +dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their +simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering +her own child-life, and the happy summer days. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c818064 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.html @@ -0,0 +1,367 @@ + + + + + Content Info + + + + + + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e3d555 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/contentinfo.md @@ -0,0 +1,362 @@ +--- +title: Content Info +--- + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f19274d --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.html @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ + + + + + Copyright + + + + +
+
+ + 
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+ 
+Produced by Arthur DiBianca and David Widger
+
+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e4c638 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/copyright.md @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +--- +title: Copyright +--- + +
+
+ + +
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+ +
+Produced by Arthur DiBianca and David Widger
+
+ +
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd9ebc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.html @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ + + + + + Cover + + + + +
+

Alice’s Adventures
In Wonderland

+
By Lewis Carroll
+
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 3.0
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..328079d --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/alice/cover.md @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +--- +title: Cover +--- + +
+

+ Alice’s Adventures +
+ In Wonderland +

+
By Lewis Carroll
+
The Millennium Fulcrum Edition 3.0
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eef71d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.html @@ -0,0 +1,1288 @@ + + + + + Part I + + + + +
+

+
+

The Trail of the Meat

+

+ Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The + trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of + frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, + in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land + itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold + that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint + in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness—a + laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter + cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It + was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at + the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the + savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. +

+

+ But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the + frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was + rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their + mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled upon the hair + of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. Leather harness was + on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled which dragged + along behind. The sled was without runners. It was made of stout + birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. The front end of + the sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to force down and + under the bore of soft snow that surged like a wave before it. On the + sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. There were + other things on the sled—blankets, an axe, and a coffee-pot and + frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the space, was the long + and narrow oblong box. +

+

+ In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear + of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third + man whose toil was over,—a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten + down until he would never move nor struggle again. It is not the way + of the Wild to like movement. Life is an offence to it, for life is + movement; and the Wild aims always to destroy movement. It freezes the + water to prevent it running to the sea; it drives the sap out of the + trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; and most + ferociously and terribly of all does the Wild harry and crush into + submission man—man who is the most restless of life, ever in revolt + against the dictum that all movement must in the end come to the + cessation of movement. +

+

+ But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who + were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned + leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the + crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not + discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, + undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But + under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and + mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, + pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien + and pulseless as the abysses of space. +

+

+ They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of + their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a + tangible presence. It affected their minds as the many atmospheres of + deep water affect the body of the diver. It crushed them with the + weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. It crushed them + into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing out of them, + like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and exaltations and + undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived themselves + finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and + little wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the great blind + elements and forces. +

+

+ An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short + sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the + still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its + topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly + died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not been + invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. The front + man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man behind. And + then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to the other. +

+

+ A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle-like shrillness. + Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the snow + expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry arose, also + to the rear and to the left of the second cry. +

+

“They’re after us, Bill,” said the man at the front.

+

+ His voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent + effort. +

+

+ “Meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. “I ain’t seen a rabbit sign + for days.” +

+

+ Thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the + hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them. +

+

+ At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce + trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, at the + side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, clustered + on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, + but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness. +

+

+ “Seems to me, Henry, they’re stayin’ remarkable close to camp,” Bill + commented. +

+

+ Henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with a + piece of ice, nodded. Nor did he speak till he had taken his seat on + the coffin and begun to eat. +

+

+ “They know where their hides is safe,” he said. “They’d sooner eat + grub than be grub. They’re pretty wise, them dogs.” +

+

Bill shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know.”

+

+ His comrade looked at him curiously. “First time I ever heard you say + anything about their not bein’ wise.” +

+

+ “Henry,” said the other, munching with deliberation the beans he was + eating, “did you happen to notice the way them dogs kicked up when I + was a-feedin’ ’em?” +

+

“They did cut up more’n usual,” Henry acknowledged.

+

“How many dogs ’ve we got, Henry?”

+

“Six.”

+

+ “Well, Henry . . . ” Bill stopped for a moment, in order that his + words might gain greater significance. “As I was sayin’, Henry, we’ve + got six dogs. I took six fish out of the bag. I gave one fish to each + dog, an’, Henry, I was one fish short.” +

+

“You counted wrong.”

+

+ “We’ve got six dogs,” the other reiterated dispassionately. “I took + out six fish. One Ear didn’t get no fish. I came back to the bag + afterward an’ got ’m his fish.” +

+

“We’ve only got six dogs,” Henry said.

+

+ “Henry,” Bill went on. “I won’t say they was all dogs, but there was + seven of ’m that got fish.” +

+

+ Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs. +

+

“There’s only six now,” he said.

+

+ “I saw the other one run off across the snow,” Bill announced with + cool positiveness. “I saw seven.” +

+

+ Henry looked at him commiseratingly, and said, “I’ll be almighty glad + when this trip’s over.” +

+

“What d’ye mean by that?” Bill demanded.

+

+ “I mean that this load of ourn is gettin’ on your nerves, an’ that + you’re beginnin’ to see things.” +

+

+ “I thought of that,” Bill answered gravely. “An’ so, when I saw it run + off across the snow, I looked in the snow an’ saw its tracks. Then I + counted the dogs an’ there was still six of ’em. The tracks is there + in the snow now. D’ye want to look at ’em? I’ll show ’em to you.” +

+

+ Henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal + finished, he topped it with a final cup of coffee. He wiped his mouth + with the back of his hand and said: +

+

“Then you’re thinkin’ as it was—”

+

+ A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, had + interrupted him. He stopped to listen to it, then he finished his + sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, “—one of + them?” +

+

+ Bill nodded. “I’d a blame sight sooner think that than anything else. + You noticed yourself the row the dogs made.” +

+

+ Cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into a + bedlam. From every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed their + fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their hair was + scorched by the heat. Bill threw on more wood, before lighting his + pipe. +

+

+ “I’m thinking you’re down in the mouth some,” Henry said. +

+

+ “Henry . . . ” He sucked meditatively at his pipe for some time before + he went on. “Henry, I was a-thinkin’ what a blame sight luckier he is + than you an’ me’ll ever be.” +

+

+ He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to the + box on which they sat. +

+

+ “You an’ me, Henry, when we die, we’ll be lucky if we get enough + stones over our carcases to keep the dogs off of us.” +

+

+ “But we ain’t got people an’ money an’ all the rest, like him,” Henry + rejoined. “Long-distance funerals is somethin’ you an’ me can’t + exactly afford.” +

+

+ “What gets me, Henry, is what a chap like this, that’s a lord or + something in his own country, and that’s never had to bother about + grub nor blankets; why he comes a-buttin’ round the Godforsaken ends + of the earth—that’s what I can’t exactly see.” +

+

+ “He might have lived to a ripe old age if he’d stayed at home,” Henry + agreed. +

+

+ Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, he + pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed about them from + every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; + only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry + indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of the + gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again a pair of eyes + moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later. +

+

+ The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in a + surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and + crawling about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs + had been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with + pain and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. The + commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment + and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs + became quiet. +

+

“Henry, it’s a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition.”

+

+ Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread the + bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid over + the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing his + moccasins. +

+

“How many cartridges did you say you had left?” he asked.

+

+ “Three,” came the answer. “An’ I wisht ’twas three hundred. Then I’d + show ’em what for, damn ’em!” +

+

+ He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely to + prop his moccasins before the fire. +

+

+ “An’ I wisht this cold snap’d break,” he went on. “It’s ben fifty + below for two weeks now. An’ I wisht I’d never started on this trip, + Henry. I don’t like the looks of it. I don’t feel right, somehow. An’ + while I’m wishin’, I wisht the trip was over an’ done with, an’ you + an’ me a-sittin’ by the fire in Fort McGurry just about now an’ + playing cribbage—that’s what I wisht.” +

+

+ Henry grunted and crawled into bed. As he dozed off he was aroused by + his comrade’s voice. +

+

+ “Say, Henry, that other one that come in an’ got a fish—why didn’t the + dogs pitch into it? That’s what’s botherin’ me.” +

+

+ “You’re botherin’ too much, Bill,” came the sleepy response. “You was + never like this before. You jes’ shut up now, an’ go to sleep, an’ + you’ll be all hunkydory in the mornin’. Your stomach’s sour, that’s + what’s botherin’ you.” +

+

+ The men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one + covering. The fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the + circle they had flung about the camp. The dogs clustered together in + fear, now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close. + Once their uproar became so loud that Bill woke up. He got out of bed + carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, and threw + more wood on the fire. As it began to flame up, the circle of eyes + drew farther back. He glanced casually at the huddling dogs. He rubbed + his eyes and looked at them more sharply. Then he crawled back into + the blankets. +

+

“Henry,” he said. “Oh, Henry.”

+

+ Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, “What’s + wrong now?” +

+

+ “Nothin’,” came the answer; “only there’s seven of ’em again. I just + counted.” +

+

+ Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid + into a snore as he drifted back into sleep. +

+

+ In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion + out of bed. Daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already + six o’clock; and in the darkness Henry went about preparing breakfast, + while Bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready for lashing. +

+

+ “Say, Henry,” he asked suddenly, “how many dogs did you say we had?” +

+

“Six.”

+

“Wrong,” Bill proclaimed triumphantly.

+

“Seven again?” Henry queried.

+

“No, five; one’s gone.”

+

+ “The hell!” Henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking to come and + count the dogs. +

+

+ “You’re right, Bill,” he concluded. “Fatty’s gone.” +

+

+ “An’ he went like greased lightnin’ once he got started. Couldn’t ’ve + seen ’m for smoke.” +

+

+ “No chance at all,” Henry concluded. “They jes’ swallowed ’m alive. I + bet he was yelpin’ as he went down their throats, damn ’em!” +

+

“He always was a fool dog,” said Bill.

+

+ “But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an’ commit suicide + that way.” He looked over the remainder of the team with a speculative + eye that summed up instantly the salient traits of each animal. “I bet + none of the others would do it.” +

+

+ “Couldn’t drive ’em away from the fire with a club,” Bill agreed. “I + always did think there was somethin’ wrong with Fatty anyway.” +

+

+ And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail—less + scant than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man. +

+
+
+

The She-Wolf

+

+ Breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the men + turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the + darkness. At once began to rise the cries that were fiercely sad—cries + that called through the darkness and cold to one another and answered + back. Conversation ceased. Daylight came at nine o’clock. At midday + the sky to the south warmed to rose-colour, and marked where the bulge + of the earth intervened between the meridian sun and the northern + world. But the rose-colour swiftly faded. The grey light of day that + remained lasted until three o’clock, when it, too, faded, and the pall + of the Arctic night descended upon the lone and silent land. +

+

+ As darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear drew + closer—so close that more than once they sent surges of fear through + the toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics. +

+

+ At the conclusion of one such panic, when he and Henry had got the + dogs back in the traces, Bill said: +

+

+ “I wisht they’d strike game somewheres, an’ go away an’ leave us + alone.” +

+

“They do get on the nerves horrible,” Henry sympathised.

+

They spoke no more until camp was made.

+

+ Henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans + when he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from Bill, + and a sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. He straightened + up in time to see a dim form disappearing across the snow into the + shelter of the dark. Then he saw Bill, standing amid the dogs, half + triumphant, half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in the other + the tail and part of the body of a sun-cured salmon. +

+

+ “It got half of it,” he announced; “but I got a whack at it jes’ the + same. D’ye hear it squeal?” +

+

“What’d it look like?” Henry asked.

+

+ “Couldn’t see. But it had four legs an’ a mouth an’ hair an’ looked + like any dog.” +

+

“Must be a tame wolf, I reckon.”

+

+ “It’s damned tame, whatever it is, comin’ in here at feedin’ time an’ + gettin’ its whack of fish.” +

+

+ That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box + and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even + closer than before. +

+

+ “I wisht they’d spring up a bunch of moose or something, an’ go away + an’ leave us alone,” Bill said. +

+

+ Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for a + quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the fire, + and Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond + the firelight. +

+

+ “I wisht we was pullin’ into McGurry right now,” he began again. +

+

+ “Shut up your wishin’ and your croakin’,” Henry burst out angrily. + “Your stomach’s sour. That’s what’s ailin’ you. Swallow a spoonful of + sody, an’ you’ll sweeten up wonderful an’ be more pleasant company.” +

+

+ In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded + from the mouth of Bill. Henry propped himself up on an elbow and + looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the + replenished fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face distorted + with passion. +

+

“Hello!” Henry called. “What’s up now?”

+

“Frog’s gone,” came the answer.

+

“No.”

+

“I tell you yes.”

+

+ Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. He counted them with + care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of the Wild + that had robbed them of another dog. +

+

+ “Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch,” Bill pronounced finally. +

+

“An’ he was no fool dog neither,” Henry added.

+

And so was recorded the second epitaph in two days.

+

+ A gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the four remaining dogs were + harnessed to the sled. The day was a repetition of the days that had + gone before. The men toiled without speech across the face of the + frozen world. The silence was unbroken save by the cries of their + pursuers, that, unseen, hung upon their rear. With the coming of night + in the mid-afternoon, the cries sounded closer as the pursuers drew in + according to their custom; and the dogs grew excited and frightened, + and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and further + depressed the two men. +

+

+ “There, that’ll fix you fool critters,” Bill said with satisfaction + that night, standing erect at completion of his task. +

+

+ Henry left the cooking to come and see. Not only had his partner tied + the dogs up, but he had tied them, after the Indian fashion, with + sticks. About the neck of each dog he had fastened a leather thong. To + this, and so close to the neck that the dog could not get his teeth to + it, he had tied a stout stick four or five feet in length. The other + end of the stick, in turn, was made fast to a stake in the ground by + means of a leather thong. The dog was unable to gnaw through the + leather at his own end of the stick. The stick prevented him from + getting at the leather that fastened the other end. +

+

Henry nodded his head approvingly.

+

+ “It’s the only contraption that’ll ever hold One Ear,” he said. “He + can gnaw through leather as clean as a knife an’ jes’ about half as + quick. They all’ll be here in the mornin’ hunkydory.” +

+

+ “You jes’ bet they will,” Bill affirmed. “If one of em’ turns up + missin’, I’ll go without my coffee.” +

+

+ “They jes’ know we ain’t loaded to kill,” Henry remarked at bed-time, + indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed them in. “If we could put a + couple of shots into ’em, they’d be more respectful. They come closer + every night. Get the firelight out of your eyes an’ look hard—there! + Did you see that one?” +

+

+ For some time the two men amused themselves with watching the movement + of vague forms on the edge of the firelight. By looking closely and + steadily at where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness, the form of + the animal would slowly take shape. They could even see these forms + move at times. +

+

+ A sound among the dogs attracted the men’s attention. One Ear was + uttering quick, eager whines, lunging at the length of his stick + toward the darkness, and desisting now and again in order to make + frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth. +

+

“Look at that, Bill,” Henry whispered.

+

+ Full into the firelight, with a stealthy, sidelong movement, glided a + doglike animal. It moved with commingled mistrust and daring, + cautiously observing the men, its attention fixed on the dogs. One Ear + strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder and whined + with eagerness. +

+

+ “That fool One Ear don’t seem scairt much,” Bill said in a low tone. +

+

+ “It’s a she-wolf,” Henry whispered back, “an’ that accounts for Fatty + an’ Frog. She’s the decoy for the pack. She draws out the dog an’ then + all the rest pitches in an’ eats ’m up.” +

+

+ The fire crackled. A log fell apart with a loud spluttering noise. At + the sound of it the strange animal leaped back into the darkness. +

+

“Henry, I’m a-thinkin’,” Bill announced.

+

“Thinkin’ what?”

+

+ “I’m a-thinkin’ that was the one I lambasted with the club.” +

+

+ “Ain’t the slightest doubt in the world,” was Henry’s response. +

+

+ “An’ right here I want to remark,” Bill went on, “that that animal’s + familyarity with campfires is suspicious an’ immoral.” +

+

+ “It knows for certain more’n a self-respectin’ wolf ought to know,” + Henry agreed. “A wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at + feedin’ time has had experiences.” +

+

+ “Ol’ Villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves,” Bill + cogitates aloud. “I ought to know. I shot it out of the pack in a + moose pasture over ‘on Little Stick. An’ Ol’ Villan cried like a baby. + Hadn’t seen it for three years, he said. Ben with the wolves all that + time.” +

+

+ “I reckon you’ve called the turn, Bill. That wolf’s a dog, an’ it’s + eaten fish many’s the time from the hand of man.” +

+

+ “An if I get a chance at it, that wolf that’s a dog’ll be jes’ meat,” + Bill declared. “We can’t afford to lose no more animals.” +

+

“But you’ve only got three cartridges,” Henry objected.

+

“I’ll wait for a dead sure shot,” was the reply.

+

+ In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the + accompaniment of his partner’s snoring. +

+

+ “You was sleepin’ jes’ too comfortable for anything,” Henry told him, + as he routed him out for breakfast. “I hadn’t the heart to rouse you.” +

+

+ Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty and + started to reach for the pot. But the pot was beyond arm’s length and + beside Henry. +

+

+ “Say, Henry,” he chided gently, “ain’t you forgot somethin’?” +

+

+ Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. Bill + held up the empty cup. +

+

“You don’t get no coffee,” Henry announced.

+

“Ain’t run out?” Bill asked anxiously.

+

“Nope.”

+

“Ain’t thinkin’ it’ll hurt my digestion?”

+

“Nope.”

+

A flush of angry blood pervaded Bill’s face.

+

+ “Then it’s jes’ warm an’ anxious I am to be hearin’ you explain + yourself,” he said. +

+

“Spanker’s gone,” Henry answered.

+

+ Without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune Bill turned + his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs. +

+

“How’d it happen?” he asked apathetically.

+

+ Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Unless One Ear gnawed ’m + loose. He couldn’t a-done it himself, that’s sure.” +

+

+ “The darned cuss.” Bill spoke gravely and slowly, with no hint of the + anger that was raging within. “Jes’ because he couldn’t chew himself + loose, he chews Spanker loose.” +

+

+ “Well, Spanker’s troubles is over anyway; I guess he’s digested by + this time an’ cavortin’ over the landscape in the bellies of twenty + different wolves,” was Henry’s epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. + “Have some coffee, Bill.” +

+

But Bill shook his head.

+

“Go on,” Henry pleaded, elevating the pot.

+

+ Bill shoved his cup aside. “I’ll be ding-dong-danged if I do. I said I + wouldn’t if ary dog turned up missin’, an’ I won’t.” +

+

“It’s darn good coffee,” Henry said enticingly.

+

+ But Bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with + mumbled curses at One Ear for the trick he had played. +

+

+ “I’ll tie ’em up out of reach of each other to-night,” Bill said, as + they took the trail. +

+

+ They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, who + was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his + snowshoe had collided. It was dark, and he could not see it, but he + recognised it by the touch. He flung it back, so that it struck the + sled and bounced along until it fetched up on Bill’s snowshoes. +

+

+ “Mebbe you’ll need that in your business,” Henry said. +

+

+ Bill uttered an exclamation. It was all that was left of Spanker—the + stick with which he had been tied. +

+

+ “They ate ’m hide an’ all,” Bill announced. “The stick’s as clean as a + whistle. They’ve ate the leather offen both ends. They’re damn hungry, + Henry, an’ they’ll have you an’ me guessin’ before this trip’s over.” +

+

+ Henry laughed defiantly. “I ain’t been trailed this way by wolves + before, but I’ve gone through a whole lot worse an’ kept my health. + Takes more’n a handful of them pesky critters to do for yours truly, + Bill, my son.” +

+

+ “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bill muttered ominously. +

+

“Well, you’ll know all right when we pull into McGurry.”

+

+ “I ain’t feelin’ special enthusiastic,” Bill persisted. +

+

+ “You’re off colour, that’s what’s the matter with you,” Henry + dogmatised. “What you need is quinine, an’ I’m goin’ to dose you up + stiff as soon as we make McGurry.” +

+

+ Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into + silence. The day was like all the days. Light came at nine o’clock. At + twelve o’clock the southern horizon was warmed by the unseen sun; and + then began the cold grey of afternoon that would merge, three hours + later, into night. +

+

+ It was just after the sun’s futile effort to appear, that Bill slipped + the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said: +

+

+ “You keep right on, Henry, I’m goin’ to see what I can see.” +

+

+ “You’d better stick by the sled,” his partner protested. “You’ve only + got three cartridges, an’ there’s no tellin’ what might happen.” +

+

“Who’s croaking now?” Bill demanded triumphantly.

+

+ Henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast + anxious glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had + disappeared. An hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs around + which the sled had to go, Bill arrived. +

+

+ “They’re scattered an’ rangin’ along wide,” he said: “keeping up with + us an’ lookin’ for game at the same time. You see, they’re sure of us, + only they know they’ve got to wait to get us. In the meantime they’re + willin’ to pick up anything eatable that comes handy.” +

+

+ “You mean they think they’re sure of us,” Henry objected + pointedly. +

+

+ But Bill ignored him. “I seen some of them. They’re pretty thin. They + ain’t had a bite in weeks I reckon, outside of Fatty an’ Frog an’ + Spanker; an’ there’s so many of ’em that that didn’t go far. They’re + remarkable thin. Their ribs is like wash-boards, an’ their stomachs is + right up against their backbones. They’re pretty desperate, I can tell + you. They’ll be goin’ mad, yet, an’ then watch out.” +

+

+ A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, + emitted a low, warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then quietly + stopped the dogs. To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly + into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, + slinking form. Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a + peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. When they halted, it halted, + throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that + twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them. +

+

“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill answered.

+

+ The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join + his partner in the sled. Together they watched the strange animal that + had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the + destruction of half their dog-team. +

+

+ After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. + This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards + away. It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with + sight and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. It looked at + them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its + wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. It was a wistfulness + bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost + itself. +

+

+ It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an + animal that was among the largest of its kind. +

+

+ “Stands pretty close to two feet an’ a half at the shoulders,” Henry + commented. “An’ I’ll bet it ain’t far from five feet long.” +

+

+ “Kind of strange colour for a wolf,” was Bill’s criticism. “I never + seen a red wolf before. Looks almost cinnamon to me.” +

+

+ The animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. Its coat was the true + wolf-coat. The dominant colour was grey, and yet there was to it a + faint reddish hue—a hue that was baffling, that appeared and + disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, + distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness + of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience. +

+

+ “Looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog,” Bill said. “I + wouldn’t be s’prised to see it wag its tail.” +

+

+ “Hello, you husky!” he called. “Come here, you whatever-your-name-is.” +

+

“Ain’t a bit scairt of you,” Henry laughed.

+

+ Bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly; but the + animal betrayed no fear. The only change in it that they could notice + was an accession of alertness. It still regarded them with the + merciless wistfulness of hunger. They were meat, and it was hungry; + and it would like to go in and eat them if it dared. +

+

+ “Look here, Henry,” Bill said, unconsciously lowering his voice to a + whisper because of what he imitated. “We’ve got three cartridges. But + it’s a dead shot. Couldn’t miss it. It’s got away with three of our + dogs, an’ we oughter put a stop to it. What d’ye say?” +

+

+ Henry nodded his consent. Bill cautiously slipped the gun from under + the sled-lashing. The gun was on the way to his shoulder, but it never + got there. For in that instant the she-wolf leaped sidewise from the + trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared. +

+

+ The two men looked at each other. Henry whistled long and + comprehendingly. +

+

+ “I might have knowed it,” Bill chided himself aloud as he replaced the + gun. “Of course a wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at + feedin’ time, ’d know all about shooting-irons. I tell you right now, + Henry, that critter’s the cause of all our trouble. We’d have six dogs + at the present time, ’stead of three, if it wasn’t for her. An’ I tell + you right now, Henry, I’m goin’ to get her. She’s too smart to be shot + in the open. But I’m goin’ to lay for her. I’ll bushwhack her as sure + as my name is Bill.” +

+

+ “You needn’t stray off too far in doin’ it,” his partner admonished. + “If that pack ever starts to jump you, them three cartridges’d be wuth + no more’n three whoops in hell. Them animals is damn hungry, an’ once + they start in, they’ll sure get you, Bill.” +

+

+ They camped early that night. Three dogs could not drag the sled so + fast nor for so long hours as could six, and they were showing + unmistakable signs of playing out. And the men went early to bed, Bill + first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach of one + another. +

+

+ But the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more than + once from their sleep. So near did the wolves approach, that the dogs + became frantic with terror, and it was necessary to replenish the fire + from time to time in order to keep the adventurous marauders at safer + distance. +

+

+ “I’ve hearn sailors talk of sharks followin’ a ship,” Bill remarked, + as he crawled back into the blankets after one such replenishing of + the fire. “Well, them wolves is land sharks. They know their business + better’n we do, an’ they ain’t a-holdin’ our trail this way for their + health. They’re goin’ to get us. They’re sure goin’ to get us, Henry.” +

+

+ “They’ve half got you a’ready, a-talkin’ like that,” Henry retorted + sharply. “A man’s half licked when he says he is. An’ you’re half + eaten from the way you’re goin’ on about it.” +

+

+ “They’ve got away with better men than you an’ me,” Bill answered. +

+

+ “Oh, shet up your croakin’. You make me all-fired tired.” +

+

+ Henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that Bill + made no similar display of temper. This was not Bill’s way, for he was + easily angered by sharp words. Henry thought long over it before he + went to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down and he dozed off, the + thought in his mind was: “There’s no mistakin’ it, Bill’s almighty + blue. I’ll have to cheer him up to-morrow.” +

+
+
+

The Hunger Cry

+

+ The day began auspiciously. They had lost no dogs during the night, + and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the darkness, + and the cold with spirits that were fairly light. Bill seemed to have + forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and even waxed + facetious with the dogs when, at midday, they overturned the sled on a + bad piece of trail. +

+

+ It was an awkward mix-up. The sled was upside down and jammed between + a tree-trunk and a huge rock, and they were forced to unharness the + dogs in order to straighten out the tangle. The two men were bent over + the sled and trying to right it, when Henry observed One Ear sidling + away. +

+

+ “Here, you, One Ear!” he cried, straightening up and turning around on + the dog. +

+

+ But One Ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing + behind him. And there, out in the snow of their back track, was the + she-wolf waiting for him. As he neared her, he became suddenly + cautious. He slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then + stopped. He regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. She + seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather + than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few steps, playfully, and + then halted. One Ear drew near to her, still alert and cautious, his + tail and ears in the air, his head held high. +

+

+ He tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and + coyly. Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding + retreat on her part. Step by step she was luring him away from the + security of his human companionship. Once, as though a warning had in + vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head and + looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at the two + men who were calling to him. +

+

+ But whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the + she-wolf, who advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him for a fleeting + instant, and then resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances. +

+

+ In the meantime, Bill had bethought himself of the rifle. But it was + jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time Henry had helped + him to right the load, One Ear and the she-wolf were too close + together and the distance too great to risk a shot. +

+

+ Too late One Ear learned his mistake. Before they saw the cause, the + two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. Then, + approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat + they saw a dozen wolves, lean and grey, bounding across the snow. On + the instant, the she-wolf’s coyness and playfulness disappeared. With + a snarl she sprang upon One Ear. He thrust her off with his shoulder, + and, his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the sled, he + altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it. More wolves + were appearing every moment and joining in the chase. The she-wolf was + one leap behind One Ear and holding her own. +

+

+ “Where are you goin’?” Henry suddenly demanded, laying his hand on his + partner’s arm. +

+

+ Bill shook it off. “I won’t stand it,” he said. “They ain’t a-goin’ to + get any more of our dogs if I can help it.” +

+

+ Gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of the + trail. His intention was apparent enough. Taking the sled as the + centre of the circle that One Ear was making, Bill planned to tap that + circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. With his rifle, in the + broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe the wolves and + save the dog. +

+

+ “Say, Bill!” Henry called after him. “Be careful! Don’t take no + chances!” +

+

+ Henry sat down on the sled and watched. There was nothing else for him + to do. Bill had already gone from sight; but now and again, appearing + and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered clumps of + spruce, could be seen One Ear. Henry judged his case to be hopeless. + The dog was thoroughly alive to its danger, but it was running on the + outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on the inner and shorter + circle. It was vain to think of One Ear so outdistancing his pursuers + as to be able to cut across their circle in advance of them and to + regain the sled. +

+

+ The different lines were rapidly approaching a point. Somewhere out + there in the snow, screened from his sight by trees and thickets, + Henry knew that the wolf-pack, One Ear, and Bill were coming together. + All too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it happened. + He heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and he knew that + Bill’s ammunition was gone. Then he heard a great outcry of snarls and + yelps. He recognised One Ear’s yell of pain and terror, and he heard a + wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. And that was all. The snarls + ceased. The yelping died away. Silence settled down again over the + lonely land. +

+

+ He sat for a long while upon the sled. There was no need for him to go + and see what had happened. He knew it as though it had taken place + before his eyes. Once, he roused with a start and hastily got the axe + out from underneath the lashings. But for some time longer he sat and + brooded, the two remaining dogs crouching and trembling at his feet. +

+

+ At last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience had + gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. He + passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace, and pulled with the + dogs. He did not go far. At the first hint of darkness he hastened to + make a camp, and he saw to it that he had a generous supply of + firewood. He fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made his bed + close to the fire. +

+

+ But he was not destined to enjoy that bed. Before his eyes closed the + wolves had drawn too near for safety. It no longer required an effort + of the vision to see them. They were all about him and the fire, in a + narrow circle, and he could see them plainly in the firelight lying + down, sitting up, crawling forward on their bellies, or slinking back + and forth. They even slept. Here and there he could see one curled up + in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep that was now denied himself. +

+

+ He kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone + intervened between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. His + two dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against him + for protection, crying and whimpering, and at times snarling + desperately when a wolf approached a little closer than usual. At such + moments, when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be agitated, + the wolves coming to their feet and pressing tentatively forward, a + chorus of snarls and eager yelps rising about him. Then the circle + would lie down again, and here and there a wolf would resume its + broken nap. +

+

+ But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. Bit by + bit, an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and there a + wolf bellying forward, the circle would narrow until the brutes were + almost within springing distance. Then he would seize brands from the + fire and hurl them into the pack. A hasty drawing back always + resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened snarls when a + well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal. +

+

+ Morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep. + He cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o’clock, when, with + the coming of daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set about the task + he had planned through the long hours of the night. Chopping down + young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold by lashing them + high up to the trunks of standing trees. Using the sled-lashing for a + heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs, he hoisted the coffin to + the top of the scaffold. +

+

+ “They got Bill, an’ they may get me, but they’ll sure never get you, + young man,” he said, addressing the dead body in its tree-sepulchre. +

+

+ Then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind the + willing dogs; for they, too, knew that safety lay open in the gaining + of Fort McGurry. The wolves were now more open in their pursuit, + trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, their red + tongues lolling out, their lean sides showing the undulating ribs with + every movement. They were very lean, mere skin-bags stretched over + bony frames, with strings for muscles—so lean that Henry found it in + his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did not + collapse forthright in the snow. +

+

+ He did not dare travel until dark. At midday, not only did the sun + warm the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim, pale and + golden, above the sky-line. He received it as a sign. The days were + growing longer. The sun was returning. But scarcely had the cheer of + its light departed, than he went into camp. There were still several + hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight, and he utilised them in + chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood. +

+

+ With night came horror. Not only were the starving wolves growing + bolder, but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite + himself, crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the + axe between his knees, and on either side a dog pressing close against + him. He awoke once and saw in front of him, not a dozen feet away, a + big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And even as he looked, + the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of a lazy + dog, yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive + eye, as if, in truth, he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to + be eaten. +

+

+ This certitude was shown by the whole pack. Fully a score he could + count, staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow. They + reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting + permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat! He + wondered how and when the meal would begin. +

+

+ As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his own + body which he had never felt before. He watched his moving muscles and + was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers. By the light + of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and repeatedly now one at a + time, now all together, spreading them wide or making quick gripping + movements. He studied the nail-formation, and prodded the finger-tips, + now sharply, and again softly, gauging the while the nerve-sensations + produced. It fascinated him, and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle + flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately. + Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn + expectantly about him, and like a blow the realisation would strike + him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more + than so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed + by their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to them as the moose and the + rabbit had often been sustenance to him. +

+

+ He came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued + she-wolf before him. She was not more than half a dozen feet away + sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him. The two dogs were + whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of them. + She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned her look. + There was nothing threatening about her. She looked at him merely with + a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the wistfulness of an + equally great hunger. He was the food, and the sight of him excited in + her the gustatory sensations. Her mouth opened, the saliva drooled + forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure of anticipation. +

+

+ A spasm of fear went through him. He reached hastily for a brand to + throw at her. But even as he reached, and before his fingers had + closed on the missile, she sprang back into safety; and he knew that + she was used to having things thrown at her. She had snarled as she + sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots, all her + wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity that + made him shudder. He glanced at the hand that held the brand, noticing + the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it, how they adjusted + themselves to all the inequalities of the surface, curling over and + under and about the rough wood, and one little finger, too close to + the burning portion of the brand, sensitively and automatically + writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping-place; and in + the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same sensitive and + delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the + she-wolf. Never had he been so fond of this body of his as now when + his tenure of it was so precarious. +

+

+ All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. When he + dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of the dogs aroused + him. Morning came, but for the first time the light of day failed to + scatter the wolves. The man waited in vain for them to go. They + remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying an arrogance + of possession that shook his courage born of the morning light. +

+

+ He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail. But the moment + he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped for him, + but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back, the jaws + snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh. The rest of the + pack was now up and surging upon him, and a throwing of firebrands + right and left was necessary to drive them back to a respectful + distance. +

+

+ Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh + wood. Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce. He spent half the + day extending his campfire to the tree, at any moment a half dozen + burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. Once at the + tree, he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the tree in + the direction of the most firewood. +

+

+ The night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need for + sleep was becoming overpowering. The snarling of his dogs was losing + its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time, and his + benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch and + intensity. He awoke with a start. The she-wolf was less than a yard + from him. Mechanically, at short range, without letting go of it, he + thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. She sprang away, + yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the smell of burning + flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and growling + wrathfully a score of feet away. +

+

+ But this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot to + his right hand. His eyes were closed but few minutes when the burn of + the flame on his flesh awakened him. For several hours he adhered to + this programme. Every time he was thus awakened he drove back the + wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and rearranged the + pine-knot on his hand. All worked well, but there came a time when he + fastened the pine-knot insecurely. As his eyes closed it fell away + from his hand. +

+

+ He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. It was warm + and comfortable, and he was playing cribbage with the Factor. Also, it + seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They were howling + at the very gates, and sometimes he and the Factor paused from the + game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of the wolves to get + in. And then, so strange was the dream, there was a crash. The door + was burst open. He could see the wolves flooding into the big + living-room of the fort. They were leaping straight for him and the + Factor. With the bursting open of the door, the noise of their howling + had increased tremendously. This howling now bothered him. His dream + was merging into something else—he knew not what; but through it all, + following him, persisted the howling. +

+

+ And then he awoke to find the howling real. There was a great snarling + and yelping. The wolves were rushing him. They were all about him and + upon him. The teeth of one had closed upon his arm. Instinctively he + leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, he felt the sharp slash of + teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. Then began a fire fight. + His stout mittens temporarily protected his hands, and he scooped live + coals into the air in all directions, until the campfire took on the + semblance of a volcano. +

+

+ But it could not last long. His face was blistering in the heat, his + eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming + unbearable to his feet. With a flaming brand in each hand, he sprang + to the edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back. On every + side, wherever the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, and + every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and + snarl, announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon. +

+

+ Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust his + smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his feet. + His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had served as a + course in the protracted meal which had begun days before with Fatty, + the last course of which would likely be himself in the days to + follow. +

+

+ “You ain’t got me yet!” he cried, savagely shaking his fist at the + hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was + agitated, there was a general snarl, and the she-wolf slid up close to + him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness. +

+

+ He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him. He + extended the fire into a large circle. Inside this circle he crouched, + his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the melting + snow. When he had thus disappeared within his shelter of flame, the + whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see what had + become of him. Hitherto they had been denied access to the fire, and + they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so many dogs, + blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in the + unaccustomed warmth. Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her nose at a + star, and began to howl. One by one the wolves joined her, till the + whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was howling its + hunger cry. +

+

+ Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The fuel had run + out, and there was need to get more. The man attempted to step out of + his circle of flame, but the wolves surged to meet him. Burning brands + made them spring aside, but they no longer sprang back. In vain he + strove to drive them back. As he gave up and stumbled inside his + circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all four feet + in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same time snarling, and + scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow. +

+

+ The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. His body + leaned forward from the hips. His shoulders, relaxed and drooping, and + his head on his knees advertised that he had given up the struggle. + Now and again he raised his head to note the dying down of the fire. + The circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments with openings + in between. These openings grew in size, the segments diminished. +

+

+ “I guess you can come an’ get me any time,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I’m + goin’ to sleep.” +

+

+ Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front + of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him. +

+

+ Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. A + mysterious change had taken place—so mysterious a change that he was + shocked wider awake. Something had happened. He could not understand + at first. Then he discovered it. The wolves were gone. Remained only + the trampled snow to show how closely they had pressed him. Sleep was + welling up and gripping him again, his head was sinking down upon his + knees, when he roused with a sudden start. +

+

+ There were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of + harnesses, and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. Four sleds + pulled in from the river bed to the camp among the trees. Half a dozen + men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire. + They were shaking and prodding him into consciousness. He looked at + them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy speech. +

+

+ “Red she-wolf. . . . Come in with the dogs at feedin’ time. . . . + First she ate the dog-food. . . . Then she ate the dogs. . . . An’ + after that she ate Bill. . . . ” +

+

+ “Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men bellowed in his ear, shaking him + roughly. +

+

+ He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him. . . . He’s roostin’ + in a tree at the last camp.” +

+

“Dead?” the man shouted.

+

+ “An’ in a box,” Henry answered. He jerked his shoulder petulantly away + from the grip of his questioner. “Say, you lemme alone. . . . I’m jes’ + plump tuckered out. . . . Goo’ night, everybody.” +

+

+ His eyes fluttered and went shut. His chin fell forward on his chest. + And even as they eased him down upon the blankets his snores were + rising on the frosty air. +

+

+ But there was another sound. Far and faint it was, in the remote + distance, the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of + other meat than the man it had just missed. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abca6a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch01.md @@ -0,0 +1,1201 @@ +--- +title: Part I +class: part +--- + +## + +### The Trail of the Meat + +Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. +The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering +of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, +in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. +The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone +and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There +was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any +sadness—a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, +a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. +It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing +at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, +the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. + +But there _was_ life, abroad in the land and defiant. +Down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their +bristly fur was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air +as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled +upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. +Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to +a sled which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. +It was made of stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the +snow. The front end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, +in order to force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like +a wave before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and +narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled—blankets, +an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most +of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box. + +In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At +the rear of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the +box, lay a third man whose toil was over,—a man whom the Wild +had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle +again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement. Life +is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always +to destroy movement. It freezes the water to prevent it running +to the sea; it drives the sap out of the trees till they are frozen +to their mighty hearts; and most ferociously and terribly of all does +the Wild harry and crush into submission man—man who is the most +restless of life, ever in revolt against the dictum that all movement +must in the end come to the cessation of movement. + +But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men +who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and +soft-tanned leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated +with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not +discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers +in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But under it +all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and +silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves +against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the +abysses of space. + +They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work +of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon +them with a tangible presence. It affected their minds as the +many atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. It +crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. +It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing +out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and exaltations +and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived themselves +finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and little +wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the great blind elements and +forces. + +An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short +sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the +still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached +its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then +slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had +it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. +The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man +behind. And then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to +the other. + +A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle-like shrillness. +Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the +snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry +arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry. + +“They’re after us, Bill,” said the man at the front. + +His voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent +effort. + +“Meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. “I +ain’t seen a rabbit sign for days.” + +Thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the +hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them. + +At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce +trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, +at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, +clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, +but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness. + +“Seems to me, Henry, they’re stayin’ remarkable +close to camp,” Bill commented. + +Henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with +a piece of ice, nodded. Nor did he speak till he had taken his +seat on the coffin and begun to eat. + +“They know where their hides is safe,” he said. +“They’d sooner eat grub than be grub. They’re +pretty wise, them dogs.” + +Bill shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know.” + +His comrade looked at him curiously. “First time I ever +heard you say anything about their not bein’ wise.” + +“Henry,” said the other, munching with deliberation the +beans he was eating, “did you happen to notice the way them dogs +kicked up when I was a-feedin’ ’em?” + +“They did cut up more’n usual,” Henry acknowledged. + +“How many dogs ’ve we got, Henry?” + +“Six.” + +“Well, Henry . . . ” Bill stopped for a moment, in order +that his words might gain greater significance. “As I was +sayin’, Henry, we’ve got six dogs. I took six fish +out of the bag. I gave one fish to each dog, an’, Henry, +I was one fish short.” + +“You counted wrong.” + +“We’ve got six dogs,” the other reiterated dispassionately. +“I took out six fish. One Ear didn’t get no fish. +I came back to the bag afterward an’ got ’m his fish.” + +“We’ve only got six dogs,” Henry said. + +“Henry,” Bill went on. “I won’t say +they was all dogs, but there was seven of ’m that got fish.” + +Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs. + +“There’s only six now,” he said. + +“I saw the other one run off across the snow,” Bill announced +with cool positiveness. “I saw seven.” + +Henry looked at him commiseratingly, and said, “I’ll +be almighty glad when this trip’s over.” + +“What d’ye mean by that?” Bill demanded. + +“I mean that this load of ourn is gettin’ on your nerves, +an’ that you’re beginnin’ to see things.” + +“I thought of that,” Bill answered gravely. “An’ +so, when I saw it run off across the snow, I looked in the snow an’ +saw its tracks. Then I counted the dogs an’ there was still +six of ’em. The tracks is there in the snow now. D’ye +want to look at ’em? I’ll show ’em to you.” + +Henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal finished, +he topped it with a final cup of coffee. He wiped his mouth with +the back of his hand and said: + +“Then you’re thinkin’ as it was—” + +A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, +had interrupted him. He stopped to listen to it, then he finished +his sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, “—one +of them?” + +Bill nodded. “I’d a blame sight sooner think that +than anything else. You noticed yourself the row the dogs made.” + +Cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into +a bedlam. From every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed +their fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their +hair was scorched by the heat. Bill threw on more wood, before +lighting his pipe. + +“I’m thinking you’re down in the mouth some,” +Henry said. + +“Henry . . . ” He sucked meditatively at his pipe +for some time before he went on. “Henry, I was a-thinkin’ +what a blame sight luckier he is than you an’ me’ll ever +be.” + +He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to +the box on which they sat. + +“You an’ me, Henry, when we die, we’ll be lucky +if we get enough stones over our carcases to keep the dogs off of us.” + +“But we ain’t got people an’ money an’ all +the rest, like him,” Henry rejoined. “Long-distance +funerals is somethin’ you an’ me can’t exactly afford.” + +“What gets me, Henry, is what a chap like this, that’s +a lord or something in his own country, and that’s never had to +bother about grub nor blankets; why he comes a-buttin’ round the +Godforsaken ends of the earth—that’s what I can’t +exactly see.” + +“He might have lived to a ripe old age if he’d stayed +at home,” Henry agreed. + +Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, +he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed about them from +every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; +only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry +indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of +the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again a +pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later. + +The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in +a surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and crawling +about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs had +been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with pain +and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. +The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment +and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs became +quiet. + +“Henry, it’s a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition.” + +Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread +the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid +over the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing +his moccasins. + +“How many cartridges did you say you had left?” he asked. + +“Three,” came the answer. “An’ I wisht +’twas three hundred. Then I’d show ’em what +for, damn ’em!” + +He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely +to prop his moccasins before the fire. + +“An’ I wisht this cold snap’d break,” he +went on. “It’s ben fifty below for two weeks now. +An’ I wisht I’d never started on this trip, Henry. +I don’t like the looks of it. I don’t feel right, +somehow. An’ while I’m wishin’, I wisht the +trip was over an’ done with, an’ you an’ me a-sittin’ +by the fire in Fort McGurry just about now an’ playing cribbage—that’s +what I wisht.” + +Henry grunted and crawled into bed. As he dozed off he was +aroused by his comrade’s voice. + +“Say, Henry, that other one that come in an’ got a fish—why +didn’t the dogs pitch into it? That’s what’s +botherin’ me.” + +“You’re botherin’ too much, Bill,” came the +sleepy response. “You was never like this before. +You jes’ shut up now, an’ go to sleep, an’ you’ll +be all hunkydory in the mornin’. Your stomach’s sour, +that’s what’s botherin’ you.” + +The men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one covering. +The fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the circle they +had flung about the camp. The dogs clustered together in fear, +now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close. +Once their uproar became so loud that Bill woke up. He got out +of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, and +threw more wood on the fire. As it began to flame up, the circle +of eyes drew farther back. He glanced casually at the huddling +dogs. He rubbed his eyes and looked at them more sharply. +Then he crawled back into the blankets. + +“Henry,” he said. “Oh, Henry.” + +Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, “What’s +wrong now?” + +“Nothin’,” came the answer; “only there’s +seven of ’em again. I just counted.” + +Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid +into a snore as he drifted back into sleep. + +In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion +out of bed. Daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already +six o’clock; and in the darkness Henry went about preparing breakfast, +while Bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready for lashing. + +“Say, Henry,” he asked suddenly, “how many dogs +did you say we had?” + +“Six.” + +“Wrong,” Bill proclaimed triumphantly. + +“Seven again?” Henry queried. + +“No, five; one’s gone.” + +“The hell!” Henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking +to come and count the dogs. + +“You’re right, Bill,” he concluded. “Fatty’s +gone.” + +“An’ he went like greased lightnin’ once he got +started. Couldn’t ’ve seen ’m for smoke.” + +“No chance at all,” Henry concluded. “They +jes’ swallowed ’m alive. I bet he was yelpin’ +as he went down their throats, damn ’em!” + +“He always was a fool dog,” said Bill. + +“But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an’ +commit suicide that way.” He looked over the remainder of +the team with a speculative eye that summed up instantly the salient +traits of each animal. “I bet none of the others would do +it.” + +“Couldn’t drive ’em away from the fire with a club,” +Bill agreed. “I always did think there was somethin’ +wrong with Fatty anyway.” + +And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail—less +scant than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man. + +### The She-Wolf + +Breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the +men turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the +darkness. At once began to rise the cries that were fiercely sad—cries +that called through the darkness and cold to one another and answered +back. Conversation ceased. Daylight came at nine o’clock. +At midday the sky to the south warmed to rose-colour, and marked where +the bulge of the earth intervened between the meridian sun and the northern +world. But the rose-colour swiftly faded. The grey light +of day that remained lasted until three o’clock, when it, too, +faded, and the pall of the Arctic night descended upon the lone and +silent land. + +As darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear +drew closer—so close that more than once they sent surges of fear +through the toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics. + +At the conclusion of one such panic, when he and Henry had got the +dogs back in the traces, Bill said: + +“I wisht they’d strike game somewheres, an’ go +away an’ leave us alone.” + +“They do get on the nerves horrible,” Henry sympathised. + +They spoke no more until camp was made. + +Henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans +when he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from Bill, +and a sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. He straightened +up in time to see a dim form disappearing across the snow into the shelter +of the dark. Then he saw Bill, standing amid the dogs, half triumphant, +half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in the other the tail and +part of the body of a sun-cured salmon. + +“It got half of it,” he announced; “but I got a +whack at it jes’ the same. D’ye hear it squeal?” + +“What’d it look like?” Henry asked. + +“Couldn’t see. But it had four legs an’ a +mouth an’ hair an’ looked like any dog.” + +“Must be a tame wolf, I reckon.” + +“It’s damned tame, whatever it is, comin’ in here +at feedin’ time an’ gettin’ its whack of fish.” + +That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box +and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even +closer than before. + +“I wisht they’d spring up a bunch of moose or something, +an’ go away an’ leave us alone,” Bill said. + +Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for +a quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the fire, +and Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond +the firelight. + +“I wisht we was pullin’ into McGurry right now,” +he began again. + +“Shut up your wishin’ and your croakin’,” +Henry burst out angrily. “Your stomach’s sour. +That’s what’s ailin’ you. Swallow a spoonful +of sody, an’ you’ll sweeten up wonderful an’ be more +pleasant company.” + +In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded +from the mouth of Bill. Henry propped himself up on an elbow and +looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the replenished +fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face distorted with passion. + +“Hello!” Henry called. “What’s up now?” + +“Frog’s gone,” came the answer. + +“No.” + +“I tell you yes.” + +Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. He counted +them with care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of +the Wild that had robbed them of another dog. + +“Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch,” Bill pronounced +finally. + +“An’ he was no fool dog neither,” Henry added. + +And so was recorded the second epitaph in two days. + +A gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the four remaining dogs were harnessed +to the sled. The day was a repetition of the days that had gone +before. The men toiled without speech across the face of the frozen +world. The silence was unbroken save by the cries of their pursuers, +that, unseen, hung upon their rear. With the coming of night in +the mid-afternoon, the cries sounded closer as the pursuers drew in +according to their custom; and the dogs grew excited and frightened, +and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and further depressed +the two men. + +“There, that’ll fix you fool critters,” Bill said +with satisfaction that night, standing erect at completion of his task. + +Henry left the cooking to come and see. Not only had his partner +tied the dogs up, but he had tied them, after the Indian fashion, with +sticks. About the neck of each dog he had fastened a leather thong. +To this, and so close to the neck that the dog could not get his teeth +to it, he had tied a stout stick four or five feet in length. +The other end of the stick, in turn, was made fast to a stake in the +ground by means of a leather thong. The dog was unable to gnaw +through the leather at his own end of the stick. The stick prevented +him from getting at the leather that fastened the other end. + +Henry nodded his head approvingly. + +“It’s the only contraption that’ll ever hold One +Ear,” he said. “He can gnaw through leather as clean +as a knife an’ jes’ about half as quick. They all’ll +be here in the mornin’ hunkydory.” + +“You jes’ bet they will,” Bill affirmed. +“If one of em’ turns up missin’, I’ll go without +my coffee.” + +“They jes’ know we ain’t loaded to kill,” +Henry remarked at bed-time, indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed +them in. “If we could put a couple of shots into ’em, +they’d be more respectful. They come closer every night. +Get the firelight out of your eyes an’ look hard—there! +Did you see that one?” + +For some time the two men amused themselves with watching the movement +of vague forms on the edge of the firelight. By looking closely +and steadily at where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness, the form +of the animal would slowly take shape. They could even see these +forms move at times. + +A sound among the dogs attracted the men’s attention. +One Ear was uttering quick, eager whines, lunging at the length of his +stick toward the darkness, and desisting now and again in order to make +frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth. + +“Look at that, Bill,” Henry whispered. + +Full into the firelight, with a stealthy, sidelong movement, glided +a doglike animal. It moved with commingled mistrust and daring, +cautiously observing the men, its attention fixed on the dogs. +One Ear strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder and +whined with eagerness. + +“That fool One Ear don’t seem scairt much,” Bill +said in a low tone. + +“It’s a she-wolf,” Henry whispered back, “an’ +that accounts for Fatty an’ Frog. She’s the decoy +for the pack. She draws out the dog an’ then all the rest +pitches in an’ eats ’m up.” + +The fire crackled. A log fell apart with a loud spluttering +noise. At the sound of it the strange animal leaped back into +the darkness. + +“Henry, I’m a-thinkin’,” Bill announced. + +“Thinkin’ what?” + +“I’m a-thinkin’ that was the one I lambasted with +the club.” + +“Ain’t the slightest doubt in the world,” was Henry’s +response. + +“An’ right here I want to remark,” Bill went on, +“that that animal’s familyarity with campfires is suspicious +an’ immoral.” + +“It knows for certain more’n a self-respectin’ +wolf ought to know,” Henry agreed. “A wolf that knows +enough to come in with the dogs at feedin’ time has had experiences.” + +“Ol’ Villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves,” +Bill cogitates aloud. “I ought to know. I shot it +out of the pack in a moose pasture over ‘on Little Stick. +An’ Ol’ Villan cried like a baby. Hadn’t seen +it for three years, he said. Ben with the wolves all that time.” + +“I reckon you’ve called the turn, Bill. That wolf’s +a dog, an’ it’s eaten fish many’s the time from the +hand of man.” + +“An if I get a chance at it, that wolf that’s a dog’ll +be jes’ meat,” Bill declared. “We can’t +afford to lose no more animals.” + +“But you’ve only got three cartridges,” Henry objected. + +“I’ll wait for a dead sure shot,” was the reply. + +In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the +accompaniment of his partner’s snoring. + +“You was sleepin’ jes’ too comfortable for anything,” +Henry told him, as he routed him out for breakfast. “I hadn’t +the heart to rouse you.” + +Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty +and started to reach for the pot. But the pot was beyond arm’s +length and beside Henry. + +“Say, Henry,” he chided gently, “ain’t you +forgot somethin’?” + +Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. +Bill held up the empty cup. + +“You don’t get no coffee,” Henry announced. + +“Ain’t run out?” Bill asked anxiously. + +“Nope.” + +“Ain’t thinkin’ it’ll hurt my digestion?” + +“Nope.” + +A flush of angry blood pervaded Bill’s face. + +“Then it’s jes’ warm an’ anxious I am to +be hearin’ you explain yourself,” he said. + +“Spanker’s gone,” Henry answered. + +Without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune Bill turned +his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs. + +“How’d it happen?” he asked apathetically. + +Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. +Unless One Ear gnawed ’m loose. He couldn’t a-done +it himself, that’s sure.” + +“The darned cuss.” Bill spoke gravely and slowly, +with no hint of the anger that was raging within. “Jes’ +because he couldn’t chew himself loose, he chews Spanker loose.” + +“Well, Spanker’s troubles is over anyway; I guess he’s +digested by this time an’ cavortin’ over the landscape in +the bellies of twenty different wolves,” was Henry’s epitaph +on this, the latest lost dog. “Have some coffee, Bill.” + +But Bill shook his head. + +“Go on,” Henry pleaded, elevating the pot. + +Bill shoved his cup aside. “I’ll be ding-dong-danged +if I do. I said I wouldn’t if ary dog turned up missin’, +an’ I won’t.” + +“It’s darn good coffee,” Henry said enticingly. + +But Bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with +mumbled curses at One Ear for the trick he had played. + +“I’ll tie ’em up out of reach of each other to-night,” +Bill said, as they took the trail. + +They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, +who was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his snowshoe +had collided. It was dark, and he could not see it, but he recognised +it by the touch. He flung it back, so that it struck the sled +and bounced along until it fetched up on Bill’s snowshoes. + +“Mebbe you’ll need that in your business,” Henry +said. + +Bill uttered an exclamation. It was all that was left of Spanker—the +stick with which he had been tied. + +“They ate ’m hide an’ all,” Bill announced. +“The stick’s as clean as a whistle. They’ve +ate the leather offen both ends. They’re damn hungry, Henry, +an’ they’ll have you an’ me guessin’ before +this trip’s over.” + +Henry laughed defiantly. “I ain’t been trailed +this way by wolves before, but I’ve gone through a whole lot worse +an’ kept my health. Takes more’n a handful of them +pesky critters to do for yours truly, Bill, my son.” + +“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bill muttered +ominously. + +“Well, you’ll know all right when we pull into McGurry.” + +“I ain’t feelin’ special enthusiastic,” Bill +persisted. + +“You’re off colour, that’s what’s the matter +with you,” Henry dogmatised. “What you need is quinine, +an’ I’m goin’ to dose you up stiff as soon as we make +McGurry.” + +Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into +silence. The day was like all the days. Light came at nine +o’clock. At twelve o’clock the southern horizon was +warmed by the unseen sun; and then began the cold grey of afternoon +that would merge, three hours later, into night. + +It was just after the sun’s futile effort to appear, that Bill +slipped the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said: + +“You keep right on, Henry, I’m goin’ to see what +I can see.” + +“You’d better stick by the sled,” his partner protested. +“You’ve only got three cartridges, an’ there’s +no tellin’ what might happen.” + +“Who’s croaking now?” Bill demanded triumphantly. + +Henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast anxious +glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had disappeared. +An hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs around which the sled +had to go, Bill arrived. + +“They’re scattered an’ rangin’ along wide,” +he said: “keeping up with us an’ lookin’ for game +at the same time. You see, they’re sure of us, only they +know they’ve got to wait to get us. In the meantime they’re +willin’ to pick up anything eatable that comes handy.” + +“You mean they _think_ they’re sure of us,” +Henry objected pointedly. + +But Bill ignored him. “I seen some of them. They’re +pretty thin. They ain’t had a bite in weeks I reckon, outside +of Fatty an’ Frog an’ Spanker; an’ there’s so +many of ’em that that didn’t go far. They’re +remarkable thin. Their ribs is like wash-boards, an’ their +stomachs is right up against their backbones. They’re pretty +desperate, I can tell you. They’ll be goin’ mad, yet, +an’ then watch out.” + +A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, +emitted a low, warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then quietly +stopped the dogs. To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly +into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, +slinking form. Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with +a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. When they halted, it halted, +throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that +twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them. + +“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill answered. + +The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join +his partner in the sled. Together they watched the strange animal +that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the +destruction of half their dog-team. + +After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. +This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards away. +It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with sight +and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. It looked at +them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its +wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. It was a wistfulness +bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost +itself. + +It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of +an animal that was among the largest of its kind. + +“Stands pretty close to two feet an’ a half at the shoulders,” +Henry commented. “An’ I’ll bet it ain’t +far from five feet long.” + +“Kind of strange colour for a wolf,” was Bill’s +criticism. “I never seen a red wolf before. Looks +almost cinnamon to me.” + +The animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. Its coat was +the true wolf-coat. The dominant colour was grey, and yet there +was to it a faint reddish hue—a hue that was baffling, that appeared +and disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, +distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness +of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience. + +“Looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog,” +Bill said. “I wouldn’t be s’prised to see it +wag its tail.” + +“Hello, you husky!” he called. “Come here, +you whatever-your-name-is.” + +“Ain’t a bit scairt of you,” Henry laughed. + +Bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly; but the +animal betrayed no fear. The only change in it that they could +notice was an accession of alertness. It still regarded them with +the merciless wistfulness of hunger. They were meat, and it was +hungry; and it would like to go in and eat them if it dared. + +“Look here, Henry,” Bill said, unconsciously lowering +his voice to a whisper because of what he imitated. “We’ve +got three cartridges. But it’s a dead shot. Couldn’t +miss it. It’s got away with three of our dogs, an’ +we oughter put a stop to it. What d’ye say?” + +Henry nodded his consent. Bill cautiously slipped the gun from +under the sled-lashing. The gun was on the way to his shoulder, +but it never got there. For in that instant the she-wolf leaped +sidewise from the trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared. + +The two men looked at each other. Henry whistled long and comprehendingly. + +“I might have knowed it,” Bill chided himself aloud as +he replaced the gun. “Of course a wolf that knows enough +to come in with the dogs at feedin’ time, ’d know all about +shooting-irons. I tell you right now, Henry, that critter’s +the cause of all our trouble. We’d have six dogs at the +present time, ’stead of three, if it wasn’t for her. +An’ I tell you right now, Henry, I’m goin’ to get +her. She’s too smart to be shot in the open. But I’m +goin’ to lay for her. I’ll bushwhack her as sure as +my name is Bill.” + +“You needn’t stray off too far in doin’ it,” +his partner admonished. “If that pack ever starts to jump +you, them three cartridges’d be wuth no more’n three whoops +in hell. Them animals is damn hungry, an’ once they start +in, they’ll sure get you, Bill.” + +They camped early that night. Three dogs could not drag the +sled so fast nor for so long hours as could six, and they were showing +unmistakable signs of playing out. And the men went early to bed, +Bill first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach +of one another. + +But the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more +than once from their sleep. So near did the wolves approach, that +the dogs became frantic with terror, and it was necessary to replenish +the fire from time to time in order to keep the adventurous marauders +at safer distance. + +“I’ve hearn sailors talk of sharks followin’ a +ship,” Bill remarked, as he crawled back into the blankets after +one such replenishing of the fire. “Well, them wolves is +land sharks. They know their business better’n we do, an’ +they ain’t a-holdin’ our trail this way for their health. +They’re goin’ to get us. They’re sure goin’ +to get us, Henry.” + +“They’ve half got you a’ready, a-talkin’ +like that,” Henry retorted sharply. “A man’s +half licked when he says he is. An’ you’re half eaten +from the way you’re goin’ on about it.” + +“They’ve got away with better men than you an’ +me,” Bill answered. + +“Oh, shet up your croakin’. You make me all-fired +tired.” + +Henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that Bill +made no similar display of temper. This was not Bill’s way, +for he was easily angered by sharp words. Henry thought long over +it before he went to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down and he +dozed off, the thought in his mind was: “There’s no mistakin’ +it, Bill’s almighty blue. I’ll have to cheer him up +to-morrow.” + +### The Hunger Cry + +The day began auspiciously. They had lost no dogs during the +night, and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the darkness, +and the cold with spirits that were fairly light. Bill seemed +to have forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and even waxed +facetious with the dogs when, at midday, they overturned the sled on +a bad piece of trail. + +It was an awkward mix-up. The sled was upside down and jammed +between a tree-trunk and a huge rock, and they were forced to unharness +the dogs in order to straighten out the tangle. The two men were +bent over the sled and trying to right it, when Henry observed One Ear +sidling away. + +“Here, you, One Ear!” he cried, straightening up and +turning around on the dog. + +But One Ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing +behind him. And there, out in the snow of their back track, was +the she-wolf waiting for him. As he neared her, he became suddenly +cautious. He slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then +stopped. He regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. +She seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather +than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few steps, playfully, +and then halted. One Ear drew near to her, still alert and cautious, +his tail and ears in the air, his head held high. + +He tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and +coyly. Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding +retreat on her part. Step by step she was luring him away from +the security of his human companionship. Once, as though a warning +had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head +and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at the +two men who were calling to him. + +But whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the +she-wolf, who advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him for a fleeting +instant, and then resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances. + +In the meantime, Bill had bethought himself of the rifle. But +it was jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time Henry had +helped him to right the load, One Ear and the she-wolf were too close +together and the distance too great to risk a shot. + +Too late One Ear learned his mistake. Before they saw the cause, +the two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. Then, +approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat +they saw a dozen wolves, lean and grey, bounding across the snow. +On the instant, the she-wolf’s coyness and playfulness disappeared. +With a snarl she sprang upon One Ear. He thrust her off with his +shoulder, and, his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the +sled, he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it. +More wolves were appearing every moment and joining in the chase. +The she-wolf was one leap behind One Ear and holding her own. + +“Where are you goin’?” Henry suddenly demanded, +laying his hand on his partner’s arm. + +Bill shook it off. “I won’t stand it,” he +said. “They ain’t a-goin’ to get any more of +our dogs if I can help it.” + +Gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of +the trail. His intention was apparent enough. Taking the +sled as the centre of the circle that One Ear was making, Bill planned +to tap that circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. With +his rifle, in the broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe +the wolves and save the dog. + +“Say, Bill!” Henry called after him. “Be +careful! Don’t take no chances!” + +Henry sat down on the sled and watched. There was nothing else +for him to do. Bill had already gone from sight; but now and again, +appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered +clumps of spruce, could be seen One Ear. Henry judged his case +to be hopeless. The dog was thoroughly alive to its danger, but +it was running on the outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on +the inner and shorter circle. It was vain to think of One Ear +so outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle +in advance of them and to regain the sled. + +The different lines were rapidly approaching a point. Somewhere +out there in the snow, screened from his sight by trees and thickets, +Henry knew that the wolf-pack, One Ear, and Bill were coming together. +All too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it happened. +He heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and he knew that +Bill’s ammunition was gone. Then he heard a great outcry +of snarls and yelps. He recognised One Ear’s yell of pain +and terror, and he heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. +And that was all. The snarls ceased. The yelping died away. +Silence settled down again over the lonely land. + +He sat for a long while upon the sled. There was no need for +him to go and see what had happened. He knew it as though it had +taken place before his eyes. Once, he roused with a start and +hastily got the axe out from underneath the lashings. But for +some time longer he sat and brooded, the two remaining dogs crouching +and trembling at his feet. + +At last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience +had gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. +He passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace, and pulled with the +dogs. He did not go far. At the first hint of darkness he +hastened to make a camp, and he saw to it that he had a generous supply +of firewood. He fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made +his bed close to the fire. + +But he was not destined to enjoy that bed. Before his eyes +closed the wolves had drawn too near for safety. It no longer +required an effort of the vision to see them. They were all about +him and the fire, in a narrow circle, and he could see them plainly +in the firelight lying down, sitting up, crawling forward on their bellies, +or slinking back and forth. They even slept. Here and there +he could see one curled up in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep +that was now denied himself. + +He kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone intervened +between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. His two +dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against him for +protection, crying and whimpering, and at times snarling desperately +when a wolf approached a little closer than usual. At such moments, +when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be agitated, the wolves +coming to their feet and pressing tentatively forward, a chorus of snarls +and eager yelps rising about him. Then the circle would lie down +again, and here and there a wolf would resume its broken nap. + +But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. +Bit by bit, an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and +there a wolf bellying forward, the circle would narrow until the brutes +were almost within springing distance. Then he would seize brands +from the fire and hurl them into the pack. A hasty drawing back +always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened snarls when +a well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal. + +Morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep. +He cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o’clock, when, +with the coming of daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set about the +task he had planned through the long hours of the night. Chopping +down young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold by lashing +them high up to the trunks of standing trees. Using the sled-lashing +for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs, he hoisted the coffin +to the top of the scaffold. + +“They got Bill, an’ they may get me, but they’ll +sure never get you, young man,” he said, addressing the dead body +in its tree-sepulchre. + +Then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind +the willing dogs; for they, too, knew that safety lay open in the gaining +of Fort McGurry. The wolves were now more open in their pursuit, +trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, their red +tongues lolling out, their lean sides showing the undulating ribs with +every movement. They were very lean, mere skin-bags stretched +over bony frames, with strings for muscles—so lean that Henry +found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did +not collapse forthright in the snow. + +He did not dare travel until dark. At midday, not only did +the sun warm the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim, +pale and golden, above the sky-line. He received it as a sign. +The days were growing longer. The sun was returning. But +scarcely had the cheer of its light departed, than he went into camp. +There were still several hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight, +and he utilised them in chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood. + +With night came horror. Not only were the starving wolves growing +bolder, but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite +himself, crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the +axe between his knees, and on either side a dog pressing close against +him. He awoke once and saw in front of him, not a dozen feet away, +a big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And even as he +looked, the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of +a lazy dog, yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive +eye, as if, in truth, he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to +be eaten. + +This certitude was shown by the whole pack. Fully a score he +could count, staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow. +They reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting +permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat! +He wondered how and when the meal would begin. + +As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his +own body which he had never felt before. He watched his moving +muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers. +By the light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and repeatedly +now one at a time, now all together, spreading them wide or making quick +gripping movements. He studied the nail-formation, and prodded +the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging the while the +nerve-sensations produced. It fascinated him, and he grew suddenly +fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly +and delicately. Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle +drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow the realisation would strike +him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more +than so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed +by their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to them as the moose and the +rabbit had often been sustenance to him. + +He came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued +she-wolf before him. She was not more than half a dozen feet away +sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him. The two dogs +were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of +them. She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned +her look. There was nothing threatening about her. She looked +at him merely with a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the wistfulness +of an equally great hunger. He was the food, and the sight of +him excited in her the gustatory sensations. Her mouth opened, +the saliva drooled forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure +of anticipation. + +A spasm of fear went through him. He reached hastily for a +brand to throw at her. But even as he reached, and before his +fingers had closed on the missile, she sprang back into safety; and +he knew that she was used to having things thrown at her. She +had snarled as she sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots, +all her wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity +that made him shudder. He glanced at the hand that held the brand, +noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it, how they +adjusted themselves to all the inequalities of the surface, curling +over and under and about the rough wood, and one little finger, too +close to the burning portion of the brand, sensitively and automatically +writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping-place; and +in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same sensitive +and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the +she-wolf. Never had he been so fond of this body of his as now +when his tenure of it was so precarious. + +All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. +When he dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of the dogs +aroused him. Morning came, but for the first time the light of +day failed to scatter the wolves. The man waited in vain for them +to go. They remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying +an arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the morning +light. + +He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail. But +the moment he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped +for him, but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back, +the jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh. +The rest of the pack was now up and surging upon him, and a throwing +of firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to a respectful +distance. + +Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh +wood. Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce. He spent +half the day extending his campfire to the tree, at any moment a half +dozen burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. Once +at the tree, he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the +tree in the direction of the most firewood. + +The night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need +for sleep was becoming overpowering. The snarling of his dogs +was losing its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time, +and his benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch +and intensity. He awoke with a start. The she-wolf was less +than a yard from him. Mechanically, at short range, without letting +go of it, he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. +She sprang away, yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the +smell of burning flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and +growling wrathfully a score of feet away. + +But this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot +to his right hand. His eyes were closed but few minutes when the +burn of the flame on his flesh awakened him. For several hours +he adhered to this programme. Every time he was thus awakened +he drove back the wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and +rearranged the pine-knot on his hand. All worked well, but there +came a time when he fastened the pine-knot insecurely. As his +eyes closed it fell away from his hand. + +He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. +It was warm and comfortable, and he was playing cribbage with the Factor. +Also, it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They +were howling at the very gates, and sometimes he and the Factor paused +from the game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of the wolves +to get in. And then, so strange was the dream, there was a crash. +The door was burst open. He could see the wolves flooding into +the big living-room of the fort. They were leaping straight for +him and the Factor. With the bursting open of the door, the noise +of their howling had increased tremendously. This howling now +bothered him. His dream was merging into something else—he +knew not what; but through it all, following him, persisted the howling. + +And then he awoke to find the howling real. There was a great +snarling and yelping. The wolves were rushing him. They +were all about him and upon him. The teeth of one had closed upon +his arm. Instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, +he felt the sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of his +leg. Then began a fire fight. His stout mittens temporarily +protected his hands, and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions, +until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano. + +But it could not last long. His face was blistering in the +heat, his eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming +unbearable to his feet. With a flaming brand in each hand, he +sprang to the edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back. +On every side, wherever the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, +and every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and +snarl, announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon. + +Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust +his smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his +feet. His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had +served as a course in the protracted meal which had begun days before +with Fatty, the last course of which would likely be himself in the +days to follow. + +“You ain’t got me yet!” he cried, savagely shaking +his fist at the hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole +circle was agitated, there was a general snarl, and the she-wolf slid +up close to him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness. + +He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him. +He extended the fire into a large circle. Inside this circle he +crouched, his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the +melting snow. When he had thus disappeared within his shelter +of flame, the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see +what had become of him. Hitherto they had been denied access to +the fire, and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so +many dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in +the unaccustomed warmth. Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her +nose at a star, and began to howl. One by one the wolves joined +her, till the whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was +howling its hunger cry. + +Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The +fuel had run out, and there was need to get more. The man attempted +to step out of his circle of flame, but the wolves surged to meet him. +Burning brands made them spring aside, but they no longer sprang back. +In vain he strove to drive them back. As he gave up and stumbled +inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all +four feet in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same +time snarling, and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow. + +The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. His +body leaned forward from the hips. His shoulders, relaxed and +drooping, and his head on his knees advertised that he had given up +the struggle. Now and again he raised his head to note the dying +down of the fire. The circle of flame and coals was breaking into +segments with openings in between. These openings grew in size, +the segments diminished. + +“I guess you can come an’ get me any time,” he +mumbled. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to sleep.” + +Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front +of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him. + +Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. +A mysterious change had taken place—so mysterious a change that +he was shocked wider awake. Something had happened. He could +not understand at first. Then he discovered it. The wolves +were gone. Remained only the trampled snow to show how closely +they had pressed him. Sleep was welling up and gripping him again, +his head was sinking down upon his knees, when he roused with a sudden +start. + +There were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of harnesses, +and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. Four sleds pulled +in from the river bed to the camp among the trees. Half a dozen +men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire. +They were shaking and prodding him into consciousness. He looked +at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy speech. + +“Red she-wolf. . . . Come in with the dogs at feedin’ +time. . . . First she ate the dog-food. . . . Then she ate the dogs. +. . . An’ after that she ate Bill. . . . ” + +“Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men bellowed +in his ear, shaking him roughly. + +He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him. +. . . He’s roostin’ in a tree at the last camp.” + +“Dead?” the man shouted. + +“An’ in a box,” Henry answered. He jerked +his shoulder petulantly away from the grip of his questioner. +“Say, you lemme alone. . . . I’m jes’ plump tuckered +out. . . . Goo’ night, everybody.” + +His eyes fluttered and went shut. His chin fell forward on +his chest. And even as they eased him down upon the blankets his +snores were rising on the frosty air. + +But there was another sound. Far and faint it was, in the remote +distance, the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of other +meat than the man it had just missed. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce4d26a --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.html @@ -0,0 +1,1524 @@ + + + + + Part II + + + + +
+

+
+

The Battle of the Fangs

+

+ It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s voices and + the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who was first to + spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying flame. The + pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted down, and it + lingered for several minutes, making sure of the sounds, and then it, + too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf. +

+

+ Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one of its + several leaders. It was he who directed the pack’s course on the heels + of the she-wolf. It was he who snarled warningly at the younger + members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs when they + ambitiously tried to pass him. And it was he who increased the pace + when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the snow. +

+

+ She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed + position, and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, nor + show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance of + him. On the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward her—too kindly + to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and when he ran too + near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. Nor was she above + slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such times he betrayed + no anger. He merely sprang to the side and ran stiffly ahead for + several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct resembling an abashed + country swain. +

+

+ This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had other + troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked + with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her right side. The + fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye, might account for + this. He, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering toward her + till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck. As + with the running mate on the left, she repelled these attentions with + her teeth; but when both bestowed their attentions at the same time + she was roughly jostled, being compelled, with quick snaps to either + side, to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her + forward leap with the pack and see the way of her feet before her. At + such times her running mates flashed their teeth and growled + threateningly across at each other. They might have fought, but even + wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing hunger-need of + the pack. +

+

+ After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the + sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young + three-year-old that ran on his blind right side. This young wolf had + attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished + condition of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and + spirit. Nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of + his one-eyed elder. When he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf + (which was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the + shoulder again. Sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and slowly + behind and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. This was + doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her + displeasure, the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. + Sometimes she whirled with him. And sometimes the young leader on the + left whirled, too. +

+

+ At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young + wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, + with fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. This + confusion in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in + the rear. The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed + their displeasure by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and + flanks. He was laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and + short tempers went together; but with the boundless faith of youth he + persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little while, though it + never succeeded in gaining anything for him but discomfiture. +

+

+ Had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on + apace, and the pack-formation would have been broken up. But the + situation of the pack was desperate. It was lean with long-standing + hunger. It ran below its ordinary speed. At the rear limped the weak + members, the very young and the very old. At the front were the + strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied wolves. + Nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped, the + movements of the animals were effortless and tireless. Their stringy + muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy. Behind every steel-like + contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like contraction, and + another, and another, apparently without end. +

+

+ They ran many miles that day. They ran through the night. And the next + day found them still running. They were running over the surface of a + world frozen and dead. No life stirred. They alone moved through the + vast inertness. They alone were alive, and they sought for other + things that were alive in order that they might devour them and + continue to live. +

+

+ They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a + lower-lying country before their quest was rewarded. Then they came + upon moose. It was a big bull they first found. Here was meat and + life, and it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles of + flame. Splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew, and they flung + their customary patience and caution to the wind. It was a brief fight + and fierce. The big bull was beset on every side. He ripped them open + or split their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs. + He crushed them and broke them on his large horns. He stamped them + into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. But he was + foredoomed, and he went down with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his + throat, and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon him, devouring him + alive, before ever his last struggles ceased or his last damage had + been wrought. +

+

+ There was food in plenty. The bull weighed over eight hundred + pounds—fully twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the forty-odd wolves + of the pack. But if they could fast prodigiously, they could feed + prodigiously, and soon a few scattered bones were all that remained of + the splendid live brute that had faced the pack a few hours before. +

+

+ There was now much resting and sleeping. With full stomachs, bickering + and quarrelling began among the younger males, and this continued + through the few days that followed before the breaking-up of the pack. + The famine was over. The wolves were now in the country of game, and + though they still hunted in pack, they hunted more cautiously, cutting + out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from the small moose-herds they + ran across. +

+

+ There came a day, in this land of plenty, when the wolf-pack split in + half and went in different directions. The she-wolf, the young leader + on her left, and the one-eyed elder on her right, led their half of + the pack down to the Mackenzie River and across into the lake country + to the east. Each day this remnant of the pack dwindled. Two by two, + male and female, the wolves were deserting. Occasionally a solitary + male was driven out by the sharp teeth of his rivals. In the end there + remained only four: the she-wolf, the young leader, the one-eyed one, + and the ambitious three-year-old. +

+

+ The she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. Her three + suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. Yet they never replied in + kind, never defended themselves against her. They turned their + shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and + mincing steps strove to placate her wrath. But if they were all + mildness toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. The + three-year-old grew too ambitious in his fierceness. He caught the + one-eyed elder on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons. + Though the grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, against the + youth and vigour of the other he brought into play the wisdom of long + years of experience. His lost eye and his scarred muzzle bore evidence + to the nature of his experience. He had survived too many battles to + be in doubt for a moment about what to do. +

+

+ The battle began fairly, but it did not end fairly. There was no + telling what the outcome would have been, for the third wolf joined + the elder, and together, old leader and young leader, they attacked + the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to destroy him. He was + beset on either side by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile comrades. + Forgotten were the days they had hunted together, the game they had + pulled down, the famine they had suffered. That business was a thing + of the past. The business of love was at hand—ever a sterner and + crueller business than that of food-getting. +

+

+ And in the meanwhile, the she-wolf, the cause of it all, sat down + contentedly on her haunches and watched. She was even pleased. This + was her day—and it came not often—when manes bristled, and fang smote + fang or ripped and tore the yielding flesh, all for the possession of + her. +

+

+ And in the business of love the three-year-old, who had made this his + first adventure upon it, yielded up his life. On either side of his + body stood his two rivals. They were gazing at the she-wolf, who sat + smiling in the snow. But the elder leader was wise, very wise, in love + even as in battle. The younger leader turned his head to lick a wound + on his shoulder. The curve of his neck was turned toward his rival. + With his one eye the elder saw the opportunity. He darted in low and + closed with his fangs. It was a long, ripping slash, and deep as well. + His teeth, in passing, burst the wall of the great vein of the throat. + Then he leaped clear. +

+

+ The young leader snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into a + tickling cough. Bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he sprang at + the elder and fought while life faded from him, his legs going weak + beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows and + springs falling shorter and shorter. +

+

+ And all the while the she-wolf sat on her haunches and smiled. She was + made glad in vague ways by the battle, for this was the love-making of + the Wild, the sex-tragedy of the natural world that was tragedy only + to those that died. To those that survived it was not tragedy, but + realisation and achievement. +

+

+ When the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more, One Eye + stalked over to the she-wolf. His carriage was one of mingled triumph + and caution. He was plainly expectant of a rebuff, and he was just as + plainly surprised when her teeth did not flash out at him in anger. + For the first time she met him with a kindly manner. She sniffed noses + with him, and even condescended to leap about and frisk and play with + him in quite puppyish fashion. And he, for all his grey years and sage + experience, behaved quite as puppyishly and even a little more + foolishly. +

+

+ Forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the love-tale + red-written on the snow. Forgotten, save once, when old One Eye + stopped for a moment to lick his stiffening wounds. Then it was that + his lips half writhed into a snarl, and the hair of his neck and + shoulders involuntarily bristled, while he half crouched for a spring, + his claws spasmodically clutching into the snow-surface for firmer + footing. But it was all forgotten the next moment, as he sprang after + the she-wolf, who was coyly leading him a chase through the woods. +

+

+ After that they ran side by side, like good friends who have come to + an understanding. The days passed by, and they kept together, hunting + their meat and killing and eating it in common. After a time the + she-wolf began to grow restless. She seemed to be searching for + something that she could not find. The hollows under fallen trees + seemed to attract her, and she spent much time nosing about among the + larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of + overhanging banks. Old One Eye was not interested at all, but he + followed her good-naturedly in her quest, and when her investigations + in particular places were unusually protracted, he would lie down and + wait until she was ready to go on. +

+

+ They did not remain in one place, but travelled across country until + they regained the Mackenzie River, down which they slowly went, + leaving it often to hunt game along the small streams that entered it, + but always returning to it again. Sometimes they chanced upon other + wolves, usually in pairs; but there was no friendliness of intercourse + displayed on either side, no gladness at meeting, no desire to return + to the pack-formation. Several times they encountered solitary wolves. + These were always males, and they were pressingly insistent on joining + with One Eye and his mate. This he resented, and when she stood + shoulder to shoulder with him, bristling and showing her teeth, the + aspiring solitary ones would back off, turn-tail, and continue on + their lonely way. +

+

+ One moonlight night, running through the quiet forest, One Eye + suddenly halted. His muzzle went up, his tail stiffened, and his + nostrils dilated as he scented the air. One foot also he held up, + after the manner of a dog. He was not satisfied, and he continued to + smell the air, striving to understand the message borne upon it to + him. One careless sniff had satisfied his mate, and she trotted on to + reassure him. Though he followed her, he was still dubious, and he + could not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to study + the warning. +

+

+ She crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the + midst of the trees. For some time she stood alone. Then One Eye, + creeping and crawling, every sense on the alert, every hair radiating + infinite suspicion, joined her. They stood side by side, watching and + listening and smelling. +

+

+ To their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling, the + guttural cries of men, the sharper voices of scolding women, and once + the shrill and plaintive cry of a child. With the exception of the + huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the flames of + the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, and the smoke + rising slowly on the quiet air. But to their nostrils came the myriad + smells of an Indian camp, carrying a story that was largely + incomprehensible to One Eye, but every detail of which the she-wolf + knew. +

+

+ She was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing + delight. But old One Eye was doubtful. He betrayed his apprehension, + and started tentatively to go. She turned and touched his neck with + her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp again. A new + wistfulness was in her face, but it was not the wistfulness of hunger. + She was thrilling to a desire that urged her to go forward, to be in + closer to that fire, to be squabbling with the dogs, and to be + avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men. +

+

+ One Eye moved impatiently beside her; her unrest came back upon her, + and she knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she + searched. She turned and trotted back into the forest, to the great + relief of One Eye, who trotted a little to the fore until they were + well within the shelter of the trees. +

+

+ As they slid along, noiseless as shadows, in the moonlight, they came + upon a run-way. Both noses went down to the footprints in the snow. + These footprints were very fresh. One Eye ran ahead cautiously, his + mate at his heels. The broad pads of their feet were spread wide and + in contact with the snow were like velvet. One Eye caught sight of a + dim movement of white in the midst of the white. His sliding gait had + been deceptively swift, but it was as nothing to the speed at which he + now ran. Before him was bounding the faint patch of white he had + discovered. +

+

+ They were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by a + growth of young spruce. Through the trees the mouth of the alley could + be seen, opening out on a moonlit glade. Old One Eye was rapidly + overhauling the fleeing shape of white. Bound by bound he gained. Now + he was upon it. One leap more and his teeth would be sinking into it. + But that leap was never made. High in the air, and straight up, soared + the shape of white, now a struggling snowshoe rabbit that leaped and + bounded, executing a fantastic dance there above him in the air and + never once returning to earth. +

+

+ One Eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright, then shrank down to + the snow and crouched, snarling threats at this thing of fear he did + not understand. But the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. She poised + for a moment, then sprang for the dancing rabbit. She, too, soared + high, but not so high as the quarry, and her teeth clipped emptily + together with a metallic snap. She made another leap, and another. +

+

+ Her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her. He + now evinced displeasure at her repeated failures, and himself made a + mighty spring upward. His teeth closed upon the rabbit, and he bore it + back to earth with him. But at the same time there was a suspicious + crackling movement beside him, and his astonished eye saw a young + spruce sapling bending down above him to strike him. His jaws let go + their grip, and he leaped backward to escape this strange danger, his + lips drawn back from his fangs, his throat snarling, every hair + bristling with rage and fright. And in that moment the sapling reared + its slender length upright and the rabbit soared dancing in the air + again. +

+

+ The she-wolf was angry. She sank her fangs into her mate’s shoulder in + reproof; and he, frightened, unaware of what constituted this new + onslaught, struck back ferociously and in still greater fright, + ripping down the side of the she-wolf’s muzzle. For him to resent such + reproof was equally unexpected to her, and she sprang upon him in + snarling indignation. Then he discovered his mistake and tried to + placate her. But she proceeded to punish him roundly, until he gave + over all attempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, his head away + from her, his shoulders receiving the punishment of her teeth. +

+

+ In the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air. The she-wolf + sat down in the snow, and old One Eye, now more in fear of his mate + than of the mysterious sapling, again sprang for the rabbit. As he + sank back with it between his teeth, he kept his eye on the sapling. + As before, it followed him back to earth. He crouched down under the + impending blow, his hair bristling, but his teeth still keeping tight + hold of the rabbit. But the blow did not fall. The sapling remained + bent above him. When he moved it moved, and he growled at it through + his clenched jaws; when he remained still, it remained still, and he + concluded it was safer to continue remaining still. Yet the warm blood + of the rabbit tasted good in his mouth. +

+

+ It was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found + himself. She took the rabbit from him, and while the sapling swayed + and teetered threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the + rabbit’s head. At once the sapling shot up, and after that gave no + more trouble, remaining in the decorous and perpendicular position in + which nature had intended it to grow. Then, between them, the she-wolf + and One Eye devoured the game which the mysterious sapling had caught + for them. +

+

+ There were other run-ways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in the + air, and the wolf-pair prospected them all, the she-wolf leading the + way, old One Eye following and observant, learning the method of + robbing snares—a knowledge destined to stand him in good stead in the + days to come. +

+
+
+

The Lair

+

+ For two days the she-wolf and One Eye hung about the Indian camp. He + was worried and apprehensive, yet the camp lured his mate and she was + loath to depart. But when, one morning, the air was rent with the + report of a rifle close at hand, and a bullet smashed against a tree + trunk several inches from One Eye’s head, they hesitated no more, but + went off on a long, swinging lope that put quick miles between them + and the danger. +

+

+ They did not go far—a couple of days’ journey. The she-wolf’s need to + find the thing for which she searched had now become imperative. She + was getting very heavy, and could run but slowly. Once, in the pursuit + of a rabbit, which she ordinarily would have caught with ease, she + gave over and lay down and rested. One Eye came to her; but when he + touched her neck gently with his muzzle she snapped at him with such + quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward and cut a ridiculous + figure in his effort to escape her teeth. Her temper was now shorter + than ever; but he had become more patient than ever and more + solicitous. +

+

+ And then she found the thing for which she sought. It was a few miles + up a small stream that in the summer time flowed into the Mackenzie, + but that then was frozen over and frozen down to its rocky bottom—a + dead stream of solid white from source to mouth. The she-wolf was + trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when she came upon + the overhanging, high clay-bank. She turned aside and trotted over to + it. The wear and tear of spring storms and melting snows had + underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small cave out of a + narrow fissure. +

+

+ She paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over + carefully. Then, on one side and the other, she ran along the base of + the wall to where its abrupt bulk merged from the softer-lined + landscape. Returning to the cave, she entered its narrow mouth. For a + short three feet she was compelled to crouch, then the walls widened + and rose higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet in diameter. + The roof barely cleared her head. It was dry and cosey. She inspected + it with painstaking care, while One Eye, who had returned, stood in + the entrance and patiently watched her. She dropped her head, with her + nose to the ground and directed toward a point near to her closely + bunched feet, and around this point she circled several times; then, + with a tired sigh that was almost a grunt, she curled her body in, + relaxed her legs, and dropped down, her head toward the entrance. One + Eye, with pointed, interested ears, laughed at her, and beyond, + outlined against the white light, she could see the brush of his tail + waving good-naturedly. Her own ears, with a snuggling movement, laid + their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment, + while her mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out, and in + this way she expressed that she was pleased and satisfied. +

+

+ One Eye was hungry. Though he lay down in the entrance and slept, his + sleep was fitful. He kept awaking and cocking his ears at the bright + world without, where the April sun was blazing across the snow. When + he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers of hidden + trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen intently. The + sun had come back, and all the awakening Northland world was calling + to him. Life was stirring. The feel of spring was in the air, the feel + of growing life under the snow, of sap ascending in the trees, of buds + bursting the shackles of the frost. +

+

+ He cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to get + up. He looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered across + his field of vision. He started to get up, then looked back to his + mate again, and settled down and dozed. A shrill and minute singing + stole upon his hearing. Once, and twice, he sleepily brushed his nose + with his paw. Then he woke up. There, buzzing in the air at the tip of + his nose, was a lone mosquito. It was a full-grown mosquito, one that + had lain frozen in a dry log all winter and that had now been thawed + out by the sun. He could resist the call of the world no longer. + Besides, he was hungry. +

+

+ He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up. But + she only snarled at him, and he walked out alone into the bright + sunshine to find the snow-surface soft under foot and the travelling + difficult. He went up the frozen bed of the stream, where the snow, + shaded by the trees, was yet hard and crystalline. He was gone eight + hours, and he came back through the darkness hungrier than when he had + started. He had found game, but he had not caught it. He had broken + through the melting snow crust, and wallowed, while the snowshoe + rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever. +

+

+ He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion. + Faint, strange sounds came from within. They were sounds not made by + his mate, and yet they were remotely familiar. He bellied cautiously + inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf. This he + received without perturbation, though he obeyed it by keeping his + distance; but he remained interested in the other sounds—faint, + muffled sobbings and slubberings. +

+

+ His mate warned him irritably away, and he curled up and slept in the + entrance. When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair, he + again sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds. There + was a new note in his mate’s warning snarl. It was a jealous note, and + he was very careful in keeping a respectful distance. Nevertheless, he + made out, sheltering between her legs against the length of her body, + five strange little bundles of life, very feeble, very helpless, + making tiny whimpering noises, with eyes that did not open to the + light. He was surprised. It was not the first time in his long and + successful life that this thing had happened. It had happened many + times, yet each time it was as fresh a surprise as ever to him. +

+

+ His mate looked at him anxiously. Every little while she emitted a low + growl, and at times, when it seemed to her he approached too near, the + growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl. Of her own experience + she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which + was the experience of all the mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory + of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny. It + manifested itself as a fear strong within her, that made her prevent + One Eye from more closely inspecting the cubs he had fathered. +

+

+ But there was no danger. Old One Eye was feeling the urge of an + impulse, that was, in turn, an instinct that had come down to him from + all the fathers of wolves. He did not question it, nor puzzle over it. + It was there, in the fibre of his being; and it was the most natural + thing in the world that he should obey it by turning his back on his + new-born family and by trotting out and away on the meat-trail whereby + he lived. +

+

+ Five or six miles from the lair, the stream divided, its forks going + off among the mountains at a right angle. Here, leading up the left + fork, he came upon a fresh track. He smelled it and found it so recent + that he crouched swiftly, and looked in the direction in which it + disappeared. Then he turned deliberately and took the right fork. The + footprint was much larger than the one his own feet made, and he knew + that in the wake of such a trail there was little meat for him. +

+

+ Half a mile up the right fork, his quick ears caught the sound of + gnawing teeth. He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine, + standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark. One + Eye approached carefully but hopelessly. He knew the breed, though he + had never met it so far north before; and never in his long life had + porcupine served him for a meal. But he had long since learned that + there was such a thing as Chance, or Opportunity, and he continued to + draw near. There was never any telling what might happen, for with + live things events were somehow always happening differently. +

+

+ The porcupine rolled itself into a ball, radiating long, sharp needles + in all directions that defied attack. In his youth One Eye had once + sniffed too near a similar, apparently inert ball of quills, and had + the tail flick out suddenly in his face. One quill he had carried away + in his muzzle, where it had remained for weeks, a rankling flame, + until it finally worked out. So he lay down, in a comfortable + crouching position, his nose fully a foot away, and out of the line of + the tail. Thus he waited, keeping perfectly quiet. There was no + telling. Something might happen. The porcupine might unroll. There + might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust of paw into the + tender, unguarded belly. +

+

+ But at the end of half an hour he arose, growled wrathfully at the + motionless ball, and trotted on. He had waited too often and futilely + in the past for porcupines to unroll, to waste any more time. He + continued up the right fork. The day wore along, and nothing rewarded + his hunt. +

+

+ The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him. + He must find meat. In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan. He + came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the + slow-witted bird. It was sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end + of his nose. Each saw the other. The bird made a startled rise, but he + struck it with his paw, and smashed it down to earth, then pounced + upon it, and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across the snow + trying to rise in the air again. As his teeth crunched through the + tender flesh and fragile bones, he began naturally to eat. Then he + remembered, and, turning on the back-track, started for home, carrying + the ptarmigan in his mouth. +

+

+ A mile above the forks, running velvet-footed as was his custom, a + gliding shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the trail, + he came upon later imprints of the large tracks he had discovered in + the early morning. As the track led his way, he followed, prepared to + meet the maker of it at every turn of the stream. +

+

+ He slid his head around a corner of rock, where began an unusually + large bend in the stream, and his quick eyes made out something that + sent him crouching swiftly down. It was the maker of the track, a + large female lynx. She was crouching as he had crouched once that day, + in front of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. If he had been a + gliding shadow before, he now became the ghost of such a shadow, as he + crept and circled around, and came up well to leeward of the silent, + motionless pair. +

+

+ He lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and with + eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he watched + the play of life before him—the waiting lynx and the waiting + porcupine, each intent on life; and, such was the curiousness of the + game, the way of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and the + way of life for the other lay in being not eaten. While old One Eye, + the wolf crouching in the covert, played his part, too, in the game, + waiting for some strange freak of Chance, that might help him on the + meat-trail which was his way of life. +

+

+ Half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. The ball of quills + might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might have been + frozen to marble; and old One Eye might have been dead. Yet all three + animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was almost painful, + and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more alive than they + were then in their seeming petrifaction. +

+

+ One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness. + Something was happening. The porcupine had at last decided that its + enemy had gone away. Slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling its ball of + impregnable armour. It was agitated by no tremor of anticipation. + Slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened out and lengthened. + One Eye watching, felt a sudden moistness in his mouth and a drooling + of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living meat that was spreading + itself like a repast before him. +

+

+ Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered its + enemy. In that instant the lynx struck. The blow was like a flash of + light. The paw, with rigid claws curving like talons, shot under the + tender belly and came back with a swift ripping movement. Had the + porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it not discovered its enemy a + fraction of a second before the blow was struck, the paw would have + escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of the tail sank sharp quills into + it as it was withdrawn. +

+

+ Everything had happened at once—the blow, the counter-blow, the squeal + of agony from the porcupine, the big cat’s squall of sudden hurt and + astonishment. One Eye half arose in his excitement, his ears up, his + tail straight out and quivering behind him. The lynx’s bad temper got + the best of her. She sprang savagely at the thing that had hurt her. + But the porcupine, squealing and grunting, with disrupted anatomy + trying feebly to roll up into its ball-protection, flicked out its + tail again, and again the big cat squalled with hurt and astonishment. + Then she fell to backing away and sneezing, her nose bristling with + quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. She brushed her nose with her + paws, trying to dislodge the fiery darts, thrust it into the snow, and + rubbed it against twigs and branches, and all the time leaping about, + ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy of pain and fright. +

+

+ She sneezed continually, and her stub of a tail was doing its best + toward lashing about by giving quick, violent jerks. She quit her + antics, and quieted down for a long minute. One Eye watched. And even + he could not repress a start and an involuntary bristling of hair + along his back when she suddenly leaped, without warning, straight up + in the air, at the same time emitting a long and most terrible squall. + Then she sprang away, up the trail, squalling with every leap she + made. +

+

+ It was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died + out that One Eye ventured forth. He walked as delicately as though all + the snow were carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ready to + pierce the soft pads of his feet. The porcupine met his approach with + a furious squealing and a clashing of its long teeth. It had managed + to roll up in a ball again, but it was not quite the old compact ball; + its muscles were too much torn for that. It had been ripped almost in + half, and was still bleeding profusely. +

+

+ One Eye scooped out mouthfuls of the blood-soaked snow, and chewed and + tasted and swallowed. This served as a relish, and his hunger + increased mightily; but he was too old in the world to forget his + caution. He waited. He lay down and waited, while the porcupine grated + its teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and occasional sharp little + squeals. In a little while, One Eye noticed that the quills were + drooping and that a great quivering had set up. The quivering came to + an end suddenly. There was a final defiant clash of the long teeth. + Then all the quills drooped quite down, and the body relaxed and moved + no more. +

+

+ With a nervous, shrinking paw, One Eye stretched out the porcupine to + its full length and turned it over on its back. Nothing had happened. + It was surely dead. He studied it intently for a moment, then took a + careful grip with his teeth and started off down the stream, partly + carrying, partly dragging the porcupine, with head turned to the side + so as to avoid stepping on the prickly mass. He recollected something, + dropped the burden, and trotted back to where he had left the + ptarmigan. He did not hesitate a moment. He knew clearly what was to + be done, and this he did by promptly eating the ptarmigan. Then he + returned and took up his burden. +

+

+ When he dragged the result of his day’s hunt into the cave, the + she-wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly licked + him on the neck. But the next instant she was warning him away from + the cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than usual and that was more + apologetic than menacing. Her instinctive fear of the father of her + progeny was toning down. He was behaving as a wolf-father should, and + manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young lives she had brought + into the world. +

+
+
+

The Grey Cub

+

+ He was different from his brothers and sisters. Their hair already + betrayed the reddish hue inherited from their mother, the she-wolf; + while he alone, in this particular, took after his father. He was the + one little grey cub of the litter. He had bred true to the straight + wolf-stock—in fact, he had bred true to old One Eye himself, + physically, with but a single exception, and that was he had two eyes + to his father’s one. +

+

+ The grey cub’s eyes had not been open long, yet already he could see + with steady clearness. And while his eyes were still closed, he had + felt, tasted, and smelled. He knew his two brothers and his two + sisters very well. He had begun to romp with them in a feeble, awkward + way, and even to squabble, his little throat vibrating with a queer + rasping noise (the forerunner of the growl), as he worked himself into + a passion. And long before his eyes had opened he had learned by + touch, taste, and smell to know his mother—a fount of warmth and + liquid food and tenderness. She possessed a gentle, caressing tongue + that soothed him when it passed over his soft little body, and that + impelled him to snuggle close against her and to doze off to sleep. +

+

+ Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping; + but now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for longer + periods of time, and he was coming to learn his world quite well. His + world was gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no other + world. It was dim-lighted; but his eyes had never had to adjust + themselves to any other light. His world was very small. Its limits + were the walls of the lair; but as he had no knowledge of the wide + world outside, he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of his + existence. +

+

+ But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different + from the rest. This was the mouth of the cave and the source of light. + He had discovered that it was different from the other walls long + before he had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions. It had + been an irresistible attraction before ever his eyes opened and looked + upon it. The light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, and the eyes + and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, sparklike flashes, + warm-coloured and strangely pleasing. The life of his body, and of + every fibre of his body, the life that was the very substance of his + body and that was apart from his own personal life, had yearned toward + this light and urged his body toward it in the same way that the + cunning chemistry of a plant urges it toward the sun. +

+

+ Always, in the beginning, before his conscious life dawned, he had + crawled toward the mouth of the cave. And in this his brothers and + sisters were one with him. Never, in that period, did any of them + crawl toward the dark corners of the back-wall. The light drew them as + if they were plants; the chemistry of the life that composed them + demanded the light as a necessity of being; and their little + puppet-bodies crawled blindly and chemically, like the tendrils of a + vine. Later on, when each developed individuality and became + personally conscious of impulsions and desires, the attraction of the + light increased. They were always crawling and sprawling toward it, + and being driven back from it by their mother. +

+

+ It was in this way that the grey cub learned other attributes of his + mother than the soft, soothing, tongue. In his insistent crawling + toward the light, he discovered in her a nose that with a sharp nudge + administered rebuke, and later, a paw, that crushed him down and + rolled him over and over with swift, calculating stroke. Thus he + learned hurt; and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt, first, by not + incurring the risk of it; and second, when he had incurred the risk, + by dodging and by retreating. These were conscious actions, and were + the results of his first generalisations upon the world. Before that + he had recoiled automatically from hurt, as he had crawled + automatically toward the light. After that he recoiled from hurt + because he + knew that it was hurt. +

+

+ He was a fierce little cub. So were his brothers and sisters. It was + to be expected. He was a carnivorous animal. He came of a breed of + meat-killers and meat-eaters. His father and mother lived wholly upon + meat. The milk he had sucked with his first flickering life, was milk + transformed directly from meat, and now, at a month old, when his eyes + had been open for but a week, he was beginning himself to eat + meat—meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged for the five + growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her breast. +

+

+ But he was, further, the fiercest of the litter. He could make a + louder rasping growl than any of them. His tiny rages were much more + terrible than theirs. It was he that first learned the trick of + rolling a fellow-cub over with a cunning paw-stroke. And it was he + that first gripped another cub by the ear and pulled and tugged and + growled through jaws tight-clenched. And certainly it was he that + caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from the + mouth of the cave. +

+

+ The fascination of the light for the grey cub increased from day to + day. He was perpetually departing on yard-long adventures toward the + cave’s entrance, and as perpetually being driven back. Only he did not + know it for an entrance. He did not know anything about + entrances—passages whereby one goes from one place to another place. + He did not know any other place, much less of a way to get there. So + to him the entrance of the cave was a wall—a wall of light. As the sun + was to the outside dweller, this wall was to him the sun of his world. + It attracted him as a candle attracts a moth. He was always striving + to attain it. The life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged + him continually toward the wall of light. The life that was within him + knew that it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread. + But he himself did not know anything about it. He did not know there + was any outside at all. +

+

+ There was one strange thing about this wall of light. His father (he + had already come to recognise his father as the one other dweller in + the world, a creature like his mother, who slept near the light and + was a bringer of meat)—his father had a way of walking right into the + white far wall and disappearing. The grey cub could not understand + this. Though never permitted by his mother to approach that wall, he + had approached the other walls, and encountered hard obstruction on + the end of his tender nose. This hurt. And after several such + adventures, he left the walls alone. Without thinking about it, he + accepted this disappearing into the wall as a peculiarity of his + father, as milk and half-digested meat were peculiarities of his + mother. +

+

+ In fact, the grey cub was not given to thinking—at least, to the kind + of thinking customary of men. His brain worked in dim ways. Yet his + conclusions were as sharp and distinct as those achieved by men. He + had a method of accepting things, without questioning the why and + wherefore. In reality, this was the act of classification. He was + never disturbed over why a thing happened. How it happened was + sufficient for him. Thus, when he had bumped his nose on the back-wall + a few times, he accepted that he would not disappear into walls. In + the same way he accepted that his father could disappear into walls. + But he was not in the least disturbed by desire to find out the reason + for the difference between his father and himself. Logic and physics + were no part of his mental make-up. +

+

+ Like most creatures of the Wild, he early experienced famine. There + came a time when not only did the meat-supply cease, but the milk no + longer came from his mother’s breast. At first, the cubs whimpered and + cried, but for the most part they slept. It was not long before they + were reduced to a coma of hunger. There were no more spats and + squabbles, no more tiny rages nor attempts at growling; while the + adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether. The cubs + slept, while the life that was in them flickered and died down. +

+

+ One Eye was desperate. He ranged far and wide, and slept but little in + the lair that had now become cheerless and miserable. The she-wolf, + too, left her litter and went out in search of meat. In the first days + after the birth of the cubs, One Eye had journeyed several times back + to the Indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; but, with the melting + of the snow and the opening of the streams, the Indian camp had moved + away, and that source of supply was closed to him. +

+

+ When the grey cub came back to life and again took interest in the far + white wall, he found that the population of his world had been + reduced. Only one sister remained to him. The rest were gone. As he + grew stronger, he found himself compelled to play alone, for the + sister no longer lifted her head nor moved about. His little body + rounded out with the meat he now ate; but the food had come too late + for her. She slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung round with skin + in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went out. +

+

+ Then there came a time when the grey cub no longer saw his father + appearing and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the + entrance. This had happened at the end of a second and less severe + famine. The she-wolf knew why One Eye never came back, but there was + no way by which she could tell what she had seen to the grey cub. + Hunting herself for meat, up the left fork of the stream where lived + the lynx, she had followed a day-old trail of One Eye. And she had + found him, or what remained of him, at the end of the trail. There + were many signs of the battle that had been fought, and of the lynx’s + withdrawal to her lair after having won the victory. Before she went + away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but the signs told her that + the lynx was inside, and she had not dared to venture in. +

+

+ After that, the she-wolf in her hunting avoided the left fork. For she + knew that in the lynx’s lair was a litter of kittens, and she knew the + lynx for a fierce, bad-tempered creature and a terrible fighter. It + was all very well for half a dozen wolves to drive a lynx, spitting + and bristling, up a tree; but it was quite a different matter for a + lone wolf to encounter a lynx—especially when the lynx was known to + have a litter of hungry kittens at her back. +

+

+ But the Wild is the Wild, and motherhood is motherhood, at all times + fiercely protective whether in the Wild or out of it; and the time was + to come when the she-wolf, for her grey cub’s sake, would venture the + left fork, and the lair in the rocks, and the lynx’s wrath. +

+
+
+

The Wall of the World

+

+ By the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting expeditions, + the cub had learned well the law that forbade his approaching the + entrance. Not only had this law been forcibly and many times impressed + on him by his mother’s nose and paw, but in him the instinct of fear + was developing. Never, in his brief cave-life, had he encountered + anything of which to be afraid. Yet fear was in him. It had come down + to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand lives. It + was a heritage he had received directly from One Eye and the she-wolf; + but to them, in turn, it had been passed down through all the + generations of wolves that had gone before. Fear!—that legacy of the + Wild which no animal may escape nor exchange for pottage. +

+

+ So the grey cub knew fear, though he knew not the stuff of which fear + was made. Possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions of life. + For he had already learned that there were such restrictions. Hunger + he had known; and when he could not appease his hunger he had felt + restriction. The hard obstruction of the cave-wall, the sharp nudge of + his mother’s nose, the smashing stroke of her paw, the hunger + unappeased of several famines, had borne in upon him that all was not + freedom in the world, that to life there was limitations and + restraints. These limitations and restraints were laws. To be obedient + to them was to escape hurt and make for happiness. +

+

+ He did not reason the question out in this man fashion. He merely + classified the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt. And + after such classification he avoided the things that hurt, the + restrictions and restraints, in order to enjoy the satisfactions and + the remunerations of life. +

+

+ Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, and + in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, fear, he + kept away from the mouth of the cave. It remained to him a white wall + of light. When his mother was absent, he slept most of the time, while + during the intervals that he was awake he kept very quiet, suppressing + the whimpering cries that tickled in his throat and strove for noise. +

+

+ Once, lying awake, he heard a strange sound in the white wall. He did + not know that it was a wolverine, standing outside, all a-trembling + with its own daring, and cautiously scenting out the contents of the + cave. The cub knew only that the sniff was strange, a something + unclassified, therefore unknown and terrible—for the unknown was one + of the chief elements that went into the making of fear. +

+

+ The hair bristled upon the grey cub’s back, but it bristled silently. + How was he to know that this thing that sniffed was a thing at which + to bristle? It was not born of any knowledge of his, yet it was the + visible expression of the fear that was in him, and for which, in his + own life, there was no accounting. But fear was accompanied by another + instinct—that of concealment. The cub was in a frenzy of terror, yet + he lay without movement or sound, frozen, petrified into immobility, + to all appearances dead. His mother, coming home, growled as she smelt + the wolverine’s track, and bounded into the cave and licked and + nozzled him with undue vehemence of affection. And the cub felt that + somehow he had escaped a great hurt. +

+

+ But there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of which + was growth. Instinct and law demanded of him obedience. But growth + demanded disobedience. His mother and fear impelled him to keep away + from the white wall. Growth is life, and life is for ever destined to + make for light. So there was no damming up the tide of life that was + rising within him—rising with every mouthful of meat he swallowed, + with every breath he drew. In the end, one day, fear and obedience + were swept away by the rush of life, and the cub straddled and + sprawled toward the entrance. +

+

+ Unlike any other wall with which he had had experience, this wall + seemed to recede from him as he approached. No hard surface collided + with the tender little nose he thrust out tentatively before him. The + substance of the wall seemed as permeable and yielding as light. And + as condition, in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he entered into + what had been wall to him and bathed in the substance that composed + it. +

+

+ It was bewildering. He was sprawling through solidity. And ever the + light grew brighter. Fear urged him to go back, but growth drove him + on. Suddenly he found himself at the mouth of the cave. The wall, + inside which he had thought himself, as suddenly leaped back before + him to an immeasurable distance. The light had become painfully + bright. He was dazzled by it. Likewise he was made dizzy by this + abrupt and tremendous extension of space. Automatically, his eyes were + adjusting themselves to the brightness, focusing themselves to meet + the increased distance of objects. At first, the wall had leaped + beyond his vision. He now saw it again; but it had taken upon itself a + remarkable remoteness. Also, its appearance had changed. It was now a + variegated wall, composed of the trees that fringed the stream, the + opposing mountain that towered above the trees, and the sky that + out-towered the mountain. +

+

+ A great fear came upon him. This was more of the terrible unknown. He + crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world. He + was very much afraid. Because it was unknown, it was hostile to him. + Therefore the hair stood up on end along his back and his lips + wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidating snarl. + Out of his puniness and fright he challenged and menaced the whole + wide world. +

+

+ Nothing happened. He continued to gaze, and in his interest he forgot + to snarl. Also, he forgot to be afraid. For the time, fear had been + routed by growth, while growth had assumed the guise of curiosity. He + began to notice near objects—an open portion of the stream that + flashed in the sun, the blasted pine-tree that stood at the base of + the slope, and the slope itself, that ran right up to him and ceased + two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he crouched. +

+

+ Now the grey cub had lived all his days on a level floor. He had never + experienced the hurt of a fall. He did not know what a fall was. So he + stepped boldly out upon the air. His hind-legs still rested on the + cave-lip, so he fell forward head downward. The earth struck him a + harsh blow on the nose that made him yelp. Then he began rolling down + the slope, over and over. He was in a panic of terror. The unknown had + caught him at last. It had gripped savagely hold of him and was about + to wreak upon him some terrific hurt. Growth was now routed by fear, + and he ki-yi’d like any frightened puppy. +

+

+ The unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt, and he + yelped and ki-yi’d unceasingly. This was a different proposition from + crouching in frozen fear while the unknown lurked just alongside. Now + the unknown had caught tight hold of him. Silence would do no good. + Besides, it was not fear, but terror, that convulsed him. +

+

+ But the slope grew more gradual, and its base was grass-covered. Here + the cub lost momentum. When at last he came to a stop, he gave one + last agonised yell and then a long, whimpering wail. Also, and quite + as a matter of course, as though in his life he had already made a + thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry clay that soiled + him. +

+

+ After that he sat up and gazed about him, as might the first man of + the earth who landed upon Mars. The cub had broken through the wall of + the world, the unknown had let go its hold of him, and here he was + without hurt. But the first man on Mars would have experienced less + unfamiliarity than did he. Without any antecedent knowledge, without + any warning whatever that such existed, he found himself an explorer + in a totally new world. +

+

+ Now that the terrible unknown had let go of him, he forgot that the + unknown had any terrors. He was aware only of curiosity in all the + things about him. He inspected the grass beneath him, the moss-berry + plant just beyond, and the dead trunk of the blasted pine that stood + on the edge of an open space among the trees. A squirrel, running + around the base of the trunk, came full upon him, and gave him a great + fright. He cowered down and snarled. But the squirrel was as badly + scared. It ran up the tree, and from a point of safety chattered back + savagely. +

+

+ This helped the cub’s courage, and though the woodpecker he next + encountered gave him a start, he proceeded confidently on his way. + Such was his confidence, that when a moose-bird impudently hopped up + to him, he reached out at it with a playful paw. The result was a + sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him cower down and ki-yi. + The noise he made was too much for the moose-bird, who sought safety + in flight. +

+

+ But the cub was learning. His misty little mind had already made an + unconscious classification. There were live things and things not + alive. Also, he must watch out for the live things. The things not + alive remained always in one place, but the live things moved about, + and there was no telling what they might do. The thing to expect of + them was the unexpected, and for this he must be prepared. +

+

+ He travelled very clumsily. He ran into sticks and things. A twig that + he thought a long way off, would the next instant hit him on the nose + or rake along his ribs. There were inequalities of surface. Sometimes + he overstepped and stubbed his nose. Quite as often he understepped + and stubbed his feet. Then there were the pebbles and stones that + turned under him when he trod upon them; and from them he came to know + that the things not alive were not all in the same state of stable + equilibrium as was his cave—also, that small things not alive were + more liable than large things to fall down or turn over. But with + every mishap he was learning. The longer he walked, the better he + walked. He was adjusting himself. He was learning to calculate his own + muscular movements, to know his physical limitations, to measure + distances between objects, and between objects and himself. +

+

+ His was the luck of the beginner. Born to be a hunter of meat (though + he did not know it), he blundered upon meat just outside his own + cave-door on his first foray into the world. It was by sheer + blundering that he chanced upon the shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest. He + fell into it. He had essayed to walk along the trunk of a fallen pine. + The rotten bark gave way under his feet, and with a despairing yelp he + pitched down the rounded crescent, smashed through the leafage and + stalks of a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, on the ground, + fetched up in the midst of seven ptarmigan chicks. +

+

+ They made noises, and at first he was frightened at them. Then he + perceived that they were very little, and he became bolder. They + moved. He placed his paw on one, and its movements were accelerated. + This was a source of enjoyment to him. He smelled it. He picked it up + in his mouth. It struggled and tickled his tongue. At the same time he + was made aware of a sensation of hunger. His jaws closed together. + There was a crunching of fragile bones, and warm blood ran in his + mouth. The taste of it was good. This was meat, the same as his mother + gave him, only it was alive between his teeth and therefore better. So + he ate the ptarmigan. Nor did he stop till he had devoured the whole + brood. Then he licked his chops in quite the same way his mother did, + and began to crawl out of the bush. +

+

+ He encountered a feathered whirlwind. He was confused and blinded by + the rush of it and the beat of angry wings. He hid his head between + his paws and yelped. The blows increased. The mother ptarmigan was in + a fury. Then he became angry. He rose up, snarling, striking out with + his paws. He sank his tiny teeth into one of the wings and pulled and + tugged sturdily. The ptarmigan struggled against him, showering blows + upon him with her free wing. It was his first battle. He was elated. + He forgot all about the unknown. He no longer was afraid of anything. + He was fighting, tearing at a live thing that was striking at him. + Also, this live thing was meat. The lust to kill was on him. He had + just destroyed little live things. He would now destroy a big live + thing. He was too busy and happy to know that he was happy. He was + thrilling and exulting in ways new to him and greater to him than any + he had known before. +

+

+ He held on to the wing and growled between his tight-clenched teeth. + The ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush. When she turned and tried + to drag him back into the bush’s shelter, he pulled her away from it + and on into the open. And all the time she was making outcry and + striking with her free wing, while feathers were flying like a + snow-fall. The pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous. All the + fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging through him. + This was living, though he did not know it. He was realising his own + meaning in the world; he was doing that for which he was made—killing + meat and battling to kill it. He was justifying his existence, than + which life can do no greater; for life achieves its summit when it + does to the uttermost that which it was equipped to do. +

+

+ After a time, the ptarmigan ceased her struggling. He still held her + by the wing, and they lay on the ground and looked at each other. He + tried to growl threateningly, ferociously. She pecked on his nose, + which by now, what of previous adventures was sore. He winced but held + on. She pecked him again and again. From wincing he went to + whimpering. He tried to back away from her, oblivious to the fact that + by his hold on her he dragged her after him. A rain of pecks fell on + his ill-used nose. The flood of fight ebbed down in him, and, + releasing his prey, he turned tail and scampered on across the open in + inglorious retreat. +

+

+ He lay down to rest on the other side of the open, near the edge of + the bushes, his tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and panting, his + nose still hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper. But as + he lay there, suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something + terrible impending. The unknown with all its terrors rushed upon him, + and he shrank back instinctively into the shelter of the bush. As he + did so, a draught of air fanned him, and a large, winged body swept + ominously and silently past. A hawk, driving down out of the blue, had + barely missed him. +

+

+ While he lay in the bush, recovering from his fright and peering + fearfully out, the mother-ptarmigan on the other side of the open + space fluttered out of the ravaged nest. It was because of her loss + that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky. But the cub + saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him—the swift downward swoop + of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the ground, the + strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the ptarmigan’s + squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk’s rush upward into the blue, + carrying the ptarmigan away with it. +

+

+ It was a long time before the cub left its shelter. He had learned + much. Live things were meat. They were good to eat. Also, live things + when they were large enough, could give hurt. It was better to eat + small live things like ptarmigan chicks, and to let alone large live + things like ptarmigan hens. Nevertheless he felt a little prick of + ambition, a sneaking desire to have another battle with that ptarmigan + hen—only the hawk had carried her away. May be there were other + ptarmigan hens. He would go and see. +

+

+ He came down a shelving bank to the stream. He had never seen water + before. The footing looked good. There were no inequalities of + surface. He stepped boldly out on it; and went down, crying with fear, + into the embrace of the unknown. It was cold, and he gasped, breathing + quickly. The water rushed into his lungs instead of the air that had + always accompanied his act of breathing. The suffocation he + experienced was like the pang of death. To him it signified death. He + had no conscious knowledge of death, but like every animal of the + Wild, he possessed the instinct of death. To him it stood as the + greatest of hurts. It was the very essence of the unknown; it was the + sum of the terrors of the unknown, the one culminating and unthinkable + catastrophe that could happen to him, about which he knew nothing and + about which he feared everything. +

+

+ He came to the surface, and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth. + He did not go down again. Quite as though it had been a + long-established custom of his he struck out with all his legs and + began to swim. The near bank was a yard away; but he had come up with + his back to it, and the first thing his eyes rested upon was the + opposite bank, toward which he immediately began to swim. The stream + was a small one, but in the pool it widened out to a score of feet. +

+

+ Midway in the passage, the current picked up the cub and swept him + downstream. He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom of the + pool. Here was little chance for swimming. The quiet water had become + suddenly angry. Sometimes he was under, sometimes on top. At all times + he was in violent motion, now being turned over or around, and again, + being smashed against a rock. And with every rock he struck, he + yelped. His progress was a series of yelps, from which might have been + adduced the number of rocks he encountered. +

+

+ Below the rapid was a second pool, and here, captured by the eddy, he + was gently borne to the bank, and as gently deposited on a bed of + gravel. He crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down. He had + learned some more about the world. Water was not alive. Yet it moved. + Also, it looked as solid as the earth, but was without any solidity at + all. His conclusion was that things were not always what they appeared + to be. The cub’s fear of the unknown was an inherited distrust, and it + had now been strengthened by experience. Thenceforth, in the nature of + things, he would possess an abiding distrust of appearances. He would + have to learn the reality of a thing before he could put his faith + into it. +

+

+ One other adventure was destined for him that day. He had recollected + that there was such a thing in the world as his mother. And then there + came to him a feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest of the + things in the world. Not only was his body tired with the adventures + it had undergone, but his little brain was equally tired. In all the + days he had lived it had not worked so hard as on this one day. + Furthermore, he was sleepy. So he started out to look for the cave and + his mother, feeling at the same time an overwhelming rush of + loneliness and helplessness. +

+

+ He was sprawling along between some bushes, when he heard a sharp + intimidating cry. There was a flash of yellow before his eyes. He saw + a weasel leaping swiftly away from him. It was a small live thing, and + he had no fear. Then, before him, at his feet, he saw an extremely + small live thing, only several inches long, a young weasel, that, like + himself, had disobediently gone out adventuring. It tried to retreat + before him. He turned it over with his paw. It made a queer, grating + noise. The next moment the flash of yellow reappeared before his eyes. + He heard again the intimidating cry, and at the same instant received + a sharp blow on the side of the neck and felt the sharp teeth of the + mother-weasel cut into his flesh. +

+

+ While he yelped and ki-yi’d and scrambled backward, he saw the + mother-weasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into the + neighbouring thicket. The cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt, but + his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and weakly + whimpered. This mother-weasel was so small and so savage. He was yet + to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most ferocious, + vindictive, and terrible of all the killers of the Wild. But a portion + of this knowledge was quickly to be his. +

+

+ He was still whimpering when the mother-weasel reappeared. She did not + rush him, now that her young one was safe. She approached more + cautiously, and the cub had full opportunity to observe her lean, + snakelike body, and her head, erect, eager, and snake-like itself. Her + sharp, menacing cry sent the hair bristling along his back, and he + snarled warningly at her. She came closer and closer. There was a + leap, swifter than his unpractised sight, and the lean, yellow body + disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision. The next + moment she was at his throat, her teeth buried in his hair and flesh. +

+

+ At first he snarled and tried to fight; but he was very young, and + this was only his first day in the world, and his snarl became a + whimper, his fight a struggle to escape. The weasel never relaxed her + hold. She hung on, striving to press down with her teeth to the great + vein where his life-blood bubbled. The weasel was a drinker of blood, + and it was ever her preference to drink from the throat of life + itself. +

+

+ The grey cub would have died, and there would have been no story to + write about him, had not the she-wolf come bounding through the + bushes. The weasel let go the cub and flashed at the she-wolf’s + throat, missing, but getting a hold on the jaw instead. The she-wolf + flirted her head like the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel’s hold + and flinging it high in the air. And, still in the air, the she-wolf’s + jaws closed on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel knew death + between the crunching teeth. +

+

+ The cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his + mother. Her joy at finding him seemed even greater than his joy at + being found. She nozzled him and caressed him and licked the cuts made + in him by the weasel’s teeth. Then, between them, mother and cub, they + ate the blood-drinker, and after that went back to the cave and slept. +

+
+
+

The Law of Meat

+

+ The cub’s development was rapid. He rested for two days, and then + ventured forth from the cave again. It was on this adventure that he + found the young weasel whose mother he had helped eat, and he saw to + it that the young weasel went the way of its mother. But on this trip + he did not get lost. When he grew tired, he found his way back to the + cave and slept. And every day thereafter found him out and ranging a + wider area. +

+

+ He began to get accurate measurement of his strength and his weakness, + and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious. He found it + expedient to be cautious all the time, except for the rare moments, + when, assured of his own intrepidity, he abandoned himself to petty + rages and lusts. +

+

+ He was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray + ptarmigan. Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter of the + squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine. While the sight of a + moose-bird almost invariably put him into the wildest of rages; for he + never forgot the peck on the nose he had received from the first of + that ilk he encountered. +

+

+ But there were times when even a moose-bird failed to affect him, and + those were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some other + prowling meat hunter. He never forgot the hawk, and its moving shadow + always sent him crouching into the nearest thicket. He no longer + sprawled and straddled, and already he was developing the gait of his + mother, slinking and furtive, apparently without exertion, yet sliding + along with a swiftness that was as deceptive as it was imperceptible. +

+

+ In the matter of meat, his luck had been all in the beginning. The + seven ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of his + killings. His desire to kill strengthened with the days, and he + cherished hungry ambitions for the squirrel that chattered so volubly + and always informed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub was + approaching. But as birds flew in the air, squirrels could climb + trees, and the cub could only try to crawl unobserved upon the + squirrel when it was on the ground. +

+

+ The cub entertained a great respect for his mother. She could get + meat, and she never failed to bring him his share. Further, she was + unafraid of things. It did not occur to him that this fearlessness was + founded upon experience and knowledge. Its effect on him was that of + an impression of power. His mother represented power; and as he grew + older he felt this power in the sharper admonishment of her paw; while + the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the slash of her fangs. + For this, likewise, he respected his mother. She compelled obedience + from him, and the older he grew the shorter grew her temper. +

+

+ Famine came again, and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once + more the bite of hunger. The she-wolf ran herself thin in the quest + for meat. She rarely slept any more in the cave, spending most of her + time on the meat-trail, and spending it vainly. This famine was not a + long one, but it was severe while it lasted. The cub found no more + milk in his mother’s breast, nor did he get one mouthful of meat for + himself. +

+

+ Before, he had hunted in play, for the sheer joyousness of it; now he + hunted in deadly earnestness, and found nothing. Yet the failure of it + accelerated his development. He studied the habits of the squirrel + with greater carefulness, and strove with greater craft to steal upon + it and surprise it. He studied the wood-mice and tried to dig them out + of their burrows; and he learned much about the ways of moose-birds + and woodpeckers. And there came a day when the hawk’s shadow did not + drive him crouching into the bushes. He had grown stronger and wiser, + and more confident. Also, he was desperate. So he sat on his haunches, + conspicuously in an open space, and challenged the hawk down out of + the sky. For he knew that there, floating in the blue above him, was + meat, the meat his stomach yearned after so insistently. But the hawk + refused to come down and give battle, and the cub crawled away into a + thicket and whimpered his disappointment and hunger. +

+

+ The famine broke. The she-wolf brought home meat. It was strange meat, + different from any she had ever brought before. It was a lynx kitten, + partly grown, like the cub, but not so large. And it was all for him. + His mother had satisfied her hunger elsewhere; though he did not know + that it was the rest of the lynx litter that had gone to satisfy her. + Nor did he know the desperateness of her deed. He knew only that the + velvet-furred kitten was meat, and he ate and waxed happier with every + mouthful. +

+

+ A full stomach conduces to inaction, and the cub lay in the cave, + sleeping against his mother’s side. He was aroused by her snarling. + Never had he heard her snarl so terribly. Possibly in her whole life + it was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. There was reason for it, + and none knew it better than she. A lynx’s lair is not despoiled with + impunity. In the full glare of the afternoon light, crouching in the + entrance of the cave, the cub saw the lynx-mother. The hair rippled up + along his back at the sight. Here was fear, and it did not require his + instinct to tell him of it. And if sight alone were not sufficient, + the cry of rage the intruder gave, beginning with a snarl and rushing + abruptly upward into a hoarse screech, was convincing enough in + itself. +

+

+ The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and + snarled valiantly by his mother’s side. But she thrust him + ignominiously away and behind her. Because of the low-roofed entrance + the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling rush of it + the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down. The cub saw little + of the battle. There was a tremendous snarling and spitting and + screeching. The two animals threshed about, the lynx ripping and + tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf + used her teeth alone. +

+

+ Once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the + lynx. He clung on, growling savagely. Though he did not know it, by + the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg and thereby + saved his mother much damage. A change in the battle crushed him under + both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold. The next moment the two + mothers separated, and, before they rushed together again, the lynx + lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped his shoulder + open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against the wall. Then + was added to the uproar the cub’s shrill yelp of pain and fright. But + the fight lasted so long that he had time to cry himself out and to + experience a second burst of courage; and the end of the battle found + him again clinging to a hind-leg and furiously growling between his + teeth. +

+

+ The lynx was dead. But the she-wolf was very weak and sick. At first + she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the blood + she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a day and + a night she lay by her dead foe’s side, without movement, scarcely + breathing. For a week she never left the cave, except for water, and + then her movements were slow and painful. At the end of that time the + lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf’s wounds had healed sufficiently + to permit her to take the meat-trail again. +

+

+ The cub’s shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he limped + from the terrible slash he had received. But the world now seemed + changed. He went about in it with greater confidence, with a feeling + of prowess that had not been his in the days before the battle with + the lynx. He had looked upon life in a more ferocious aspect; he had + fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; and he had + survived. And because of all this, he carried himself more boldly, + with a touch of defiance that was new in him. He was no longer afraid + of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, though the + unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries and terrors, + intangible and ever-menacing. +

+

+ He began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much of + the killing of meat and began to play his part in it. And in his own + dim way he learned the law of meat. There were two kinds of life—his + own kind and the other kind. His own kind included his mother and + himself. The other kind included all live things that moved. But the + other kind was divided. One portion was what his own kind killed and + ate. This portion was composed of the non-killers and the small + killers. The other portion killed and ate his own kind, or was killed + and eaten by his own kind. And out of this classification arose the + law. The aim of life was meat. Life itself was meat. Life lived on + life. There were the eaters and the eaten. The law was: EAT OR BE + EATEN. He did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralise + about it. He did not even think the law; he merely lived the law + without thinking about it at all. +

+

+ He saw the law operating around him on every side. He had eaten the + ptarmigan chicks. The hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother. The hawk + would also have eaten him. Later, when he had grown more formidable, + he wanted to eat the hawk. He had eaten the lynx kitten. The + lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed and + eaten. And so it went. The law was being lived about him by all live + things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law. He was a + killer. His only food was meat, live meat, that ran away swiftly + before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in the + ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and ran + after him. +

+

+ Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomised life as a + voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude + of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, + eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence + and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, + merciless, planless, endless. +

+

+ But the cub did not think in man-fashion. He did not look at things + with wide vision. He was single-purposed, and entertained but one + thought or desire at a time. Besides the law of meat, there were a + myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey. The world was + filled with surprise. The stir of the life that was in him, the play + of his muscles, was an unending happiness. To run down meat was to + experience thrills and elations. His rages and battles were pleasures. + Terror itself, and the mystery of the unknown, led to his living. +

+

+ And there were easements and satisfactions. To have a full stomach, to + doze lazily in the sunshine—such things were remuneration in full for + his ardours and toils, while his ardours and tolls were in themselves + self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, and life is always + happy when it is expressing itself. So the cub had no quarrel with his + hostile environment. He was very much alive, very happy, and very + proud of himself. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3831fb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch02.md @@ -0,0 +1,1396 @@ +--- +title: Part II +class: part +--- + +## + +### The Battle of the Fangs + +It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s +voices and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who +was first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying +flame. The pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted +down, and it lingered for several minutes, making sure of the sounds, +and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf. + +Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one +of its several leaders. It was he who directed the pack’s +course on the heels of the she-wolf. It was he who snarled warningly +at the younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs +when they ambitiously tried to pass him. And it was he who increased +the pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the +snow. + +She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed +position, and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, +nor show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance +of him. On the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward her—too +kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and when he +ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. Nor +was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such +times he betrayed no anger. He merely sprang to the side and ran +stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct resembling +an abashed country swain. + +This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had +other troubles. On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled +and marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her +right side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left +eye, might account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding +her, to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, +or shoulder, or neck. As with the running mate on the left, she +repelled these attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their +attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, +with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the +same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way +of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed +their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They +might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more +pressing hunger-need of the pack. + +After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from +the sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young +three-year-old that ran on his blind right side. This young wolf +had attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished condition +of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and spirit. +Nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of his one-eyed +elder. When he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf (which +was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the shoulder +again. Sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and slowly behind +and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. This was +doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her displeasure, +the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. Sometimes she +whirled with him. And sometimes the young leader on the left whirled, +too. + +At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young +wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, with +fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. This confusion +in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in the rear. +The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed their displeasure +by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and flanks. He was +laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and short tempers went +together; but with the boundless faith of youth he persisted in repeating +the manoeuvre every little while, though it never succeeded in gaining +anything for him but discomfiture. + +Had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on +apace, and the pack-formation would have been broken up. But the +situation of the pack was desperate. It was lean with long-standing +hunger. It ran below its ordinary speed. At the rear limped +the weak members, the very young and the very old. At the front +were the strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied +wolves. Nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped, +the movements of the animals were effortless and tireless. Their +stringy muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy. Behind +every steel-like contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like contraction, +and another, and another, apparently without end. + +They ran many miles that day. They ran through the night. +And the next day found them still running. They were running over +the surface of a world frozen and dead. No life stirred. +They alone moved through the vast inertness. They alone were alive, +and they sought for other things that were alive in order that they +might devour them and continue to live. + +They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a lower-lying +country before their quest was rewarded. Then they came upon moose. +It was a big bull they first found. Here was meat and life, and +it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles of flame. +Splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew, and they flung their customary +patience and caution to the wind. It was a brief fight and fierce. +The big bull was beset on every side. He ripped them open or split +their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs. He +crushed them and broke them on his large horns. He stamped them +into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. But he was +foredoomed, and he went down with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his +throat, and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon him, devouring him +alive, before ever his last struggles ceased or his last damage had +been wrought. + +There was food in plenty. The bull weighed over eight hundred +pounds—fully twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the forty-odd +wolves of the pack. But if they could fast prodigiously, they +could feed prodigiously, and soon a few scattered bones were all that +remained of the splendid live brute that had faced the pack a few hours +before. + +There was now much resting and sleeping. With full stomachs, +bickering and quarrelling began among the younger males, and this continued +through the few days that followed before the breaking-up of the pack. +The famine was over. The wolves were now in the country of game, +and though they still hunted in pack, they hunted more cautiously, cutting +out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from the small moose-herds they +ran across. + +There came a day, in this land of plenty, when the wolf-pack split +in half and went in different directions. The she-wolf, the young +leader on her left, and the one-eyed elder on her right, led their half +of the pack down to the Mackenzie River and across into the lake country +to the east. Each day this remnant of the pack dwindled. +Two by two, male and female, the wolves were deserting. Occasionally +a solitary male was driven out by the sharp teeth of his rivals. +In the end there remained only four: the she-wolf, the young leader, +the one-eyed one, and the ambitious three-year-old. + +The she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. Her three +suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. Yet they never replied +in kind, never defended themselves against her. They turned their +shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and mincing +steps strove to placate her wrath. But if they were all mildness +toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. The three-year-old +grew too ambitious in his fierceness. He caught the one-eyed elder +on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons. Though the +grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, against the youth and +vigour of the other he brought into play the wisdom of long years of +experience. His lost eye and his scarred muzzle bore evidence +to the nature of his experience. He had survived too many battles +to be in doubt for a moment about what to do. + +The battle began fairly, but it did not end fairly. There was +no telling what the outcome would have been, for the third wolf joined +the elder, and together, old leader and young leader, they attacked +the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to destroy him. He +was beset on either side by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile comrades. +Forgotten were the days they had hunted together, the game they had +pulled down, the famine they had suffered. That business was a +thing of the past. The business of love was at hand—ever +a sterner and crueller business than that of food-getting. + +And in the meanwhile, the she-wolf, the cause of it all, sat down +contentedly on her haunches and watched. She was even pleased. +This was her day—and it came not often—when manes bristled, +and fang smote fang or ripped and tore the yielding flesh, all for the +possession of her. + +And in the business of love the three-year-old, who had made this +his first adventure upon it, yielded up his life. On either side +of his body stood his two rivals. They were gazing at the she-wolf, +who sat smiling in the snow. But the elder leader was wise, very +wise, in love even as in battle. The younger leader turned his +head to lick a wound on his shoulder. The curve of his neck was +turned toward his rival. With his one eye the elder saw the opportunity. +He darted in low and closed with his fangs. It was a long, ripping +slash, and deep as well. His teeth, in passing, burst the wall +of the great vein of the throat. Then he leaped clear. + +The young leader snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into +a tickling cough. Bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he +sprang at the elder and fought while life faded from him, his legs going +weak beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows and +springs falling shorter and shorter. + +And all the while the she-wolf sat on her haunches and smiled. +She was made glad in vague ways by the battle, for this was the love-making +of the Wild, the sex-tragedy of the natural world that was tragedy only +to those that died. To those that survived it was not tragedy, +but realisation and achievement. + +When the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more, One Eye +stalked over to the she-wolf. His carriage was one of mingled +triumph and caution. He was plainly expectant of a rebuff, and +he was just as plainly surprised when her teeth did not flash out at +him in anger. For the first time she met him with a kindly manner. +She sniffed noses with him, and even condescended to leap about and +frisk and play with him in quite puppyish fashion. And he, for +all his grey years and sage experience, behaved quite as puppyishly +and even a little more foolishly. + +Forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the love-tale red-written +on the snow. Forgotten, save once, when old One Eye stopped for +a moment to lick his stiffening wounds. Then it was that his lips +half writhed into a snarl, and the hair of his neck and shoulders involuntarily +bristled, while he half crouched for a spring, his claws spasmodically +clutching into the snow-surface for firmer footing. But it was +all forgotten the next moment, as he sprang after the she-wolf, who +was coyly leading him a chase through the woods. + +After that they ran side by side, like good friends who have come +to an understanding. The days passed by, and they kept together, +hunting their meat and killing and eating it in common. After +a time the she-wolf began to grow restless. She seemed to be searching +for something that she could not find. The hollows under fallen +trees seemed to attract her, and she spent much time nosing about among +the larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of overhanging +banks. Old One Eye was not interested at all, but he followed +her good-naturedly in her quest, and when her investigations in particular +places were unusually protracted, he would lie down and wait until she +was ready to go on. + +They did not remain in one place, but travelled across country until +they regained the Mackenzie River, down which they slowly went, leaving +it often to hunt game along the small streams that entered it, but always +returning to it again. Sometimes they chanced upon other wolves, +usually in pairs; but there was no friendliness of intercourse displayed +on either side, no gladness at meeting, no desire to return to the pack-formation. +Several times they encountered solitary wolves. These were always +males, and they were pressingly insistent on joining with One Eye and +his mate. This he resented, and when she stood shoulder to shoulder +with him, bristling and showing her teeth, the aspiring solitary ones +would back off, turn-tail, and continue on their lonely way. + +One moonlight night, running through the quiet forest, One Eye suddenly +halted. His muzzle went up, his tail stiffened, and his nostrils +dilated as he scented the air. One foot also he held up, after +the manner of a dog. He was not satisfied, and he continued to +smell the air, striving to understand the message borne upon it to him. +One careless sniff had satisfied his mate, and she trotted on to reassure +him. Though he followed her, he was still dubious, and he could +not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to study the +warning. + +She crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the +midst of the trees. For some time she stood alone. Then +One Eye, creeping and crawling, every sense on the alert, every hair +radiating infinite suspicion, joined her. They stood side by side, +watching and listening and smelling. + +To their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling, the +guttural cries of men, the sharper voices of scolding women, and once +the shrill and plaintive cry of a child. With the exception of +the huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the flames +of the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, and the +smoke rising slowly on the quiet air. But to their nostrils came +the myriad smells of an Indian camp, carrying a story that was largely +incomprehensible to One Eye, but every detail of which the she-wolf +knew. + +She was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing +delight. But old One Eye was doubtful. He betrayed his apprehension, +and started tentatively to go. She turned and touched his neck +with her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp again. +A new wistfulness was in her face, but it was not the wistfulness of +hunger. She was thrilling to a desire that urged her to go forward, +to be in closer to that fire, to be squabbling with the dogs, and to +be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men. + +One Eye moved impatiently beside her; her unrest came back upon her, +and she knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she +searched. She turned and trotted back into the forest, to the +great relief of One Eye, who trotted a little to the fore until they +were well within the shelter of the trees. + +As they slid along, noiseless as shadows, in the moonlight, they +came upon a run-way. Both noses went down to the footprints in +the snow. These footprints were very fresh. One Eye ran +ahead cautiously, his mate at his heels. The broad pads of their +feet were spread wide and in contact with the snow were like velvet. +One Eye caught sight of a dim movement of white in the midst of the +white. His sliding gait had been deceptively swift, but it was +as nothing to the speed at which he now ran. Before him was bounding +the faint patch of white he had discovered. + +They were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by +a growth of young spruce. Through the trees the mouth of the alley +could be seen, opening out on a moonlit glade. Old One Eye was +rapidly overhauling the fleeing shape of white. Bound by bound +he gained. Now he was upon it. One leap more and his teeth +would be sinking into it. But that leap was never made. +High in the air, and straight up, soared the shape of white, now a struggling +snowshoe rabbit that leaped and bounded, executing a fantastic dance +there above him in the air and never once returning to earth. + +One Eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright, then shrank down +to the snow and crouched, snarling threats at this thing of fear he +did not understand. But the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. +She poised for a moment, then sprang for the dancing rabbit. She, +too, soared high, but not so high as the quarry, and her teeth clipped +emptily together with a metallic snap. She made another leap, +and another. + +Her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her. +He now evinced displeasure at her repeated failures, and himself made +a mighty spring upward. His teeth closed upon the rabbit, and +he bore it back to earth with him. But at the same time there +was a suspicious crackling movement beside him, and his astonished eye +saw a young spruce sapling bending down above him to strike him. +His jaws let go their grip, and he leaped backward to escape this strange +danger, his lips drawn back from his fangs, his throat snarling, every +hair bristling with rage and fright. And in that moment the sapling +reared its slender length upright and the rabbit soared dancing in the +air again. + +The she-wolf was angry. She sank her fangs into her mate’s +shoulder in reproof; and he, frightened, unaware of what constituted +this new onslaught, struck back ferociously and in still greater fright, +ripping down the side of the she-wolf’s muzzle. For him +to resent such reproof was equally unexpected to her, and she sprang +upon him in snarling indignation. Then he discovered his mistake +and tried to placate her. But she proceeded to punish him roundly, +until he gave over all attempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, +his head away from her, his shoulders receiving the punishment of her +teeth. + +In the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air. The +she-wolf sat down in the snow, and old One Eye, now more in fear of +his mate than of the mysterious sapling, again sprang for the rabbit. +As he sank back with it between his teeth, he kept his eye on the sapling. +As before, it followed him back to earth. He crouched down under +the impending blow, his hair bristling, but his teeth still keeping +tight hold of the rabbit. But the blow did not fall. The +sapling remained bent above him. When he moved it moved, and he +growled at it through his clenched jaws; when he remained still, it +remained still, and he concluded it was safer to continue remaining +still. Yet the warm blood of the rabbit tasted good in his mouth. + +It was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found +himself. She took the rabbit from him, and while the sapling swayed +and teetered threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the rabbit’s +head. At once the sapling shot up, and after that gave no more +trouble, remaining in the decorous and perpendicular position in which +nature had intended it to grow. Then, between them, the she-wolf +and One Eye devoured the game which the mysterious sapling had caught +for them. + +There were other run-ways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in +the air, and the wolf-pair prospected them all, the she-wolf leading +the way, old One Eye following and observant, learning the method of +robbing snares—a knowledge destined to stand him in good stead +in the days to come. + +### The Lair + +For two days the she-wolf and One Eye hung about the Indian camp. +He was worried and apprehensive, yet the camp lured his mate and she +was loath to depart. But when, one morning, the air was rent with +the report of a rifle close at hand, and a bullet smashed against a +tree trunk several inches from One Eye’s head, they hesitated +no more, but went off on a long, swinging lope that put quick miles +between them and the danger. + +They did not go far—a couple of days’ journey. +The she-wolf’s need to find the thing for which she searched had +now become imperative. She was getting very heavy, and could run +but slowly. Once, in the pursuit of a rabbit, which she ordinarily +would have caught with ease, she gave over and lay down and rested. +One Eye came to her; but when he touched her neck gently with his muzzle +she snapped at him with such quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward +and cut a ridiculous figure in his effort to escape her teeth. +Her temper was now shorter than ever; but he had become more patient +than ever and more solicitous. + +And then she found the thing for which she sought. It was a +few miles up a small stream that in the summer time flowed into the +Mackenzie, but that then was frozen over and frozen down to its rocky +bottom—a dead stream of solid white from source to mouth. +The she-wolf was trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when +she came upon the overhanging, high clay-bank. She turned aside +and trotted over to it. The wear and tear of spring storms and +melting snows had underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small +cave out of a narrow fissure. + +She paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over carefully. +Then, on one side and the other, she ran along the base of the wall +to where its abrupt bulk merged from the softer-lined landscape. +Returning to the cave, she entered its narrow mouth. For a short +three feet she was compelled to crouch, then the walls widened and rose +higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet in diameter. +The roof barely cleared her head. It was dry and cosey. +She inspected it with painstaking care, while One Eye, who had returned, +stood in the entrance and patiently watched her. She dropped her +head, with her nose to the ground and directed toward a point near to +her closely bunched feet, and around this point she circled several +times; then, with a tired sigh that was almost a grunt, she curled her +body in, relaxed her legs, and dropped down, her head toward the entrance. +One Eye, with pointed, interested ears, laughed at her, and beyond, +outlined against the white light, she could see the brush of his tail +waving good-naturedly. Her own ears, with a snuggling movement, +laid their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment, +while her mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out, and in this +way she expressed that she was pleased and satisfied. + +One Eye was hungry. Though he lay down in the entrance and +slept, his sleep was fitful. He kept awaking and cocking his ears +at the bright world without, where the April sun was blazing across +the snow. When he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers +of hidden trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen intently. +The sun had come back, and all the awakening Northland world was calling +to him. Life was stirring. The feel of spring was in the +air, the feel of growing life under the snow, of sap ascending in the +trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the frost. + +He cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to +get up. He looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered +across his field of vision. He started to get up, then looked +back to his mate again, and settled down and dozed. A shrill and +minute singing stole upon his hearing. Once, and twice, he sleepily +brushed his nose with his paw. Then he woke up. There, buzzing +in the air at the tip of his nose, was a lone mosquito. It was +a full-grown mosquito, one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter +and that had now been thawed out by the sun. He could resist the +call of the world no longer. Besides, he was hungry. + +He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up. +But she only snarled at him, and he walked out alone into the bright +sunshine to find the snow-surface soft under foot and the travelling +difficult. He went up the frozen bed of the stream, where the +snow, shaded by the trees, was yet hard and crystalline. He was +gone eight hours, and he came back through the darkness hungrier than +when he had started. He had found game, but he had not caught +it. He had broken through the melting snow crust, and wallowed, +while the snowshoe rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever. + +He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion. +Faint, strange sounds came from within. They were sounds not made +by his mate, and yet they were remotely familiar. He bellied cautiously +inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf. This +he received without perturbation, though he obeyed it by keeping his +distance; but he remained interested in the other sounds—faint, +muffled sobbings and slubberings. + +His mate warned him irritably away, and he curled up and slept in +the entrance. When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair, +he again sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds. +There was a new note in his mate’s warning snarl. It was +a jealous note, and he was very careful in keeping a respectful distance. +Nevertheless, he made out, sheltering between her legs against the length +of her body, five strange little bundles of life, very feeble, very +helpless, making tiny whimpering noises, with eyes that did not open +to the light. He was surprised. It was not the first time +in his long and successful life that this thing had happened. +It had happened many times, yet each time it was as fresh a surprise +as ever to him. + +His mate looked at him anxiously. Every little while she emitted +a low growl, and at times, when it seemed to her he approached too near, +the growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl. Of her own experience +she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which +was the experience of all the mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory +of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny. +It manifested itself as a fear strong within her, that made her prevent +One Eye from more closely inspecting the cubs he had fathered. + +But there was no danger. Old One Eye was feeling the urge of +an impulse, that was, in turn, an instinct that had come down to him +from all the fathers of wolves. He did not question it, nor puzzle +over it. It was there, in the fibre of his being; and it was the +most natural thing in the world that he should obey it by turning his +back on his new-born family and by trotting out and away on the meat-trail +whereby he lived. + +Five or six miles from the lair, the stream divided, its forks going +off among the mountains at a right angle. Here, leading up the +left fork, he came upon a fresh track. He smelled it and found +it so recent that he crouched swiftly, and looked in the direction in +which it disappeared. Then he turned deliberately and took the +right fork. The footprint was much larger than the one his own +feet made, and he knew that in the wake of such a trail there was little +meat for him. + +Half a mile up the right fork, his quick ears caught the sound of +gnawing teeth. He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine, +standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark. +One Eye approached carefully but hopelessly. He knew the breed, +though he had never met it so far north before; and never in his long +life had porcupine served him for a meal. But he had long since +learned that there was such a thing as Chance, or Opportunity, and he +continued to draw near. There was never any telling what might +happen, for with live things events were somehow always happening differently. + +The porcupine rolled itself into a ball, radiating long, sharp needles +in all directions that defied attack. In his youth One Eye had +once sniffed too near a similar, apparently inert ball of quills, and +had the tail flick out suddenly in his face. One quill he had +carried away in his muzzle, where it had remained for weeks, a rankling +flame, until it finally worked out. So he lay down, in a comfortable +crouching position, his nose fully a foot away, and out of the line +of the tail. Thus he waited, keeping perfectly quiet. There +was no telling. Something might happen. The porcupine might +unroll. There might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust +of paw into the tender, unguarded belly. + +But at the end of half an hour he arose, growled wrathfully at the +motionless ball, and trotted on. He had waited too often and futilely +in the past for porcupines to unroll, to waste any more time. +He continued up the right fork. The day wore along, and nothing +rewarded his hunt. + +The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him. +He must find meat. In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan. +He came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the slow-witted +bird. It was sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end of his +nose. Each saw the other. The bird made a startled rise, +but he struck it with his paw, and smashed it down to earth, then pounced +upon it, and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across the snow trying +to rise in the air again. As his teeth crunched through the tender +flesh and fragile bones, he began naturally to eat. Then he remembered, +and, turning on the back-track, started for home, carrying the ptarmigan +in his mouth. + +A mile above the forks, running velvet-footed as was his custom, +a gliding shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the trail, +he came upon later imprints of the large tracks he had discovered in +the early morning. As the track led his way, he followed, prepared +to meet the maker of it at every turn of the stream. + +He slid his head around a corner of rock, where began an unusually +large bend in the stream, and his quick eyes made out something that +sent him crouching swiftly down. It was the maker of the track, +a large female lynx. She was crouching as he had crouched once +that day, in front of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. If +he had been a gliding shadow before, he now became the ghost of such +a shadow, as he crept and circled around, and came up well to leeward +of the silent, motionless pair. + +He lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and +with eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he watched +the play of life before him—the waiting lynx and the waiting porcupine, +each intent on life; and, such was the curiousness of the game, the +way of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and the way of life +for the other lay in being not eaten. While old One Eye, the wolf +crouching in the covert, played his part, too, in the game, waiting +for some strange freak of Chance, that might help him on the meat-trail +which was his way of life. + +Half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. The ball +of quills might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might have +been frozen to marble; and old One Eye might have been dead. Yet +all three animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was almost +painful, and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more alive than +they were then in their seeming petrifaction. + +One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness. +Something was happening. The porcupine had at last decided that +its enemy had gone away. Slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling +its ball of impregnable armour. It was agitated by no tremor of +anticipation. Slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened +out and lengthened. One Eye watching, felt a sudden moistness +in his mouth and a drooling of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living +meat that was spreading itself like a repast before him. + +Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered +its enemy. In that instant the lynx struck. The blow was +like a flash of light. The paw, with rigid claws curving like +talons, shot under the tender belly and came back with a swift ripping +movement. Had the porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it +not discovered its enemy a fraction of a second before the blow was +struck, the paw would have escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of the +tail sank sharp quills into it as it was withdrawn. + +Everything had happened at once—the blow, the counter-blow, +the squeal of agony from the porcupine, the big cat’s squall of +sudden hurt and astonishment. One Eye half arose in his excitement, +his ears up, his tail straight out and quivering behind him. The +lynx’s bad temper got the best of her. She sprang savagely +at the thing that had hurt her. But the porcupine, squealing and +grunting, with disrupted anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its ball-protection, +flicked out its tail again, and again the big cat squalled with hurt +and astonishment. Then she fell to backing away and sneezing, +her nose bristling with quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. She +brushed her nose with her paws, trying to dislodge the fiery darts, +thrust it into the snow, and rubbed it against twigs and branches, and +all the time leaping about, ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy +of pain and fright. + +She sneezed continually, and her stub of a tail was doing its best +toward lashing about by giving quick, violent jerks. She quit +her antics, and quieted down for a long minute. One Eye watched. +And even he could not repress a start and an involuntary bristling of +hair along his back when she suddenly leaped, without warning, straight +up in the air, at the same time emitting a long and most terrible squall. +Then she sprang away, up the trail, squalling with every leap she made. + +It was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died +out that One Eye ventured forth. He walked as delicately as though +all the snow were carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ready to +pierce the soft pads of his feet. The porcupine met his approach +with a furious squealing and a clashing of its long teeth. It +had managed to roll up in a ball again, but it was not quite the old +compact ball; its muscles were too much torn for that. It had +been ripped almost in half, and was still bleeding profusely. + +One Eye scooped out mouthfuls of the blood-soaked snow, and chewed +and tasted and swallowed. This served as a relish, and his hunger +increased mightily; but he was too old in the world to forget his caution. +He waited. He lay down and waited, while the porcupine grated +its teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and occasional sharp little squeals. +In a little while, One Eye noticed that the quills were drooping and +that a great quivering had set up. The quivering came to an end +suddenly. There was a final defiant clash of the long teeth. +Then all the quills drooped quite down, and the body relaxed and moved +no more. + +With a nervous, shrinking paw, One Eye stretched out the porcupine +to its full length and turned it over on its back. Nothing had +happened. It was surely dead. He studied it intently for +a moment, then took a careful grip with his teeth and started off down +the stream, partly carrying, partly dragging the porcupine, with head +turned to the side so as to avoid stepping on the prickly mass. +He recollected something, dropped the burden, and trotted back to where +he had left the ptarmigan. He did not hesitate a moment. +He knew clearly what was to be done, and this he did by promptly eating +the ptarmigan. Then he returned and took up his burden. + +When he dragged the result of his day’s hunt into the cave, +the she-wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly licked +him on the neck. But the next instant she was warning him away +from the cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than usual and that was +more apologetic than menacing. Her instinctive fear of the father +of her progeny was toning down. He was behaving as a wolf-father +should, and manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young lives she +had brought into the world. + +### The Grey Cub + +He was different from his brothers and sisters. Their hair +already betrayed the reddish hue inherited from their mother, the she-wolf; +while he alone, in this particular, took after his father. He +was the one little grey cub of the litter. He had bred true to +the straight wolf-stock—in fact, he had bred true to old One Eye +himself, physically, with but a single exception, and that was he had +two eyes to his father’s one. + +The grey cub’s eyes had not been open long, yet already he +could see with steady clearness. And while his eyes were still +closed, he had felt, tasted, and smelled. He knew his two brothers +and his two sisters very well. He had begun to romp with them +in a feeble, awkward way, and even to squabble, his little throat vibrating +with a queer rasping noise (the forerunner of the growl), as he worked +himself into a passion. And long before his eyes had opened he +had learned by touch, taste, and smell to know his mother—a fount +of warmth and liquid food and tenderness. She possessed a gentle, +caressing tongue that soothed him when it passed over his soft little +body, and that impelled him to snuggle close against her and to doze +off to sleep. + +Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping; +but now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for longer periods +of time, and he was coming to learn his world quite well. His +world was gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no other world. +It was dim-lighted; but his eyes had never had to adjust themselves +to any other light. His world was very small. Its limits +were the walls of the lair; but as he had no knowledge of the wide world +outside, he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of his existence. + +But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different +from the rest. This was the mouth of the cave and the source of +light. He had discovered that it was different from the other +walls long before he had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions. +It had been an irresistible attraction before ever his eyes opened and +looked upon it. The light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, +and the eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, sparklike +flashes, warm-coloured and strangely pleasing. The life of his +body, and of every fibre of his body, the life that was the very substance +of his body and that was apart from his own personal life, had yearned +toward this light and urged his body toward it in the same way that +the cunning chemistry of a plant urges it toward the sun. + +Always, in the beginning, before his conscious life dawned, he had +crawled toward the mouth of the cave. And in this his brothers +and sisters were one with him. Never, in that period, did any +of them crawl toward the dark corners of the back-wall. The light +drew them as if they were plants; the chemistry of the life that composed +them demanded the light as a necessity of being; and their little puppet-bodies +crawled blindly and chemically, like the tendrils of a vine. Later +on, when each developed individuality and became personally conscious +of impulsions and desires, the attraction of the light increased. +They were always crawling and sprawling toward it, and being driven +back from it by their mother. + +It was in this way that the grey cub learned other attributes of +his mother than the soft, soothing, tongue. In his insistent crawling +toward the light, he discovered in her a nose that with a sharp nudge +administered rebuke, and later, a paw, that crushed him down and rolled +him over and over with swift, calculating stroke. Thus he learned +hurt; and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt, first, by not incurring +the risk of it; and second, when he had incurred the risk, by dodging +and by retreating. These were conscious actions, and were the +results of his first generalisations upon the world. Before that +he had recoiled automatically from hurt, as he had crawled automatically +toward the light. After that he recoiled from hurt because he +_knew_ that it was hurt. + +He was a fierce little cub. So were his brothers and sisters. +It was to be expected. He was a carnivorous animal. He came +of a breed of meat-killers and meat-eaters. His father and mother +lived wholly upon meat. The milk he had sucked with his first +flickering life, was milk transformed directly from meat, and now, at +a month old, when his eyes had been open for but a week, he was beginning +himself to eat meat—meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged +for the five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her +breast. + +But he was, further, the fiercest of the litter. He could make +a louder rasping growl than any of them. His tiny rages were much +more terrible than theirs. It was he that first learned the trick +of rolling a fellow-cub over with a cunning paw-stroke. And it +was he that first gripped another cub by the ear and pulled and tugged +and growled through jaws tight-clenched. And certainly it was +he that caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from +the mouth of the cave. + +The fascination of the light for the grey cub increased from day +to day. He was perpetually departing on yard-long adventures toward +the cave’s entrance, and as perpetually being driven back. +Only he did not know it for an entrance. He did not know anything +about entrances—passages whereby one goes from one place to another +place. He did not know any other place, much less of a way to +get there. So to him the entrance of the cave was a wall—a +wall of light. As the sun was to the outside dweller, this wall +was to him the sun of his world. It attracted him as a candle +attracts a moth. He was always striving to attain it. The +life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged him continually +toward the wall of light. The life that was within him knew that +it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread. But +he himself did not know anything about it. He did not know there +was any outside at all. + +There was one strange thing about this wall of light. His father +(he had already come to recognise his father as the one other dweller +in the world, a creature like his mother, who slept near the light and +was a bringer of meat)—his father had a way of walking right into +the white far wall and disappearing. The grey cub could not understand +this. Though never permitted by his mother to approach that wall, +he had approached the other walls, and encountered hard obstruction +on the end of his tender nose. This hurt. And after several +such adventures, he left the walls alone. Without thinking about +it, he accepted this disappearing into the wall as a peculiarity of +his father, as milk and half-digested meat were peculiarities of his +mother. + +In fact, the grey cub was not given to thinking—at least, to +the kind of thinking customary of men. His brain worked in dim +ways. Yet his conclusions were as sharp and distinct as those +achieved by men. He had a method of accepting things, without +questioning the why and wherefore. In reality, this was the act +of classification. He was never disturbed over why a thing happened. +How it happened was sufficient for him. Thus, when he had bumped +his nose on the back-wall a few times, he accepted that he would not +disappear into walls. In the same way he accepted that his father +could disappear into walls. But he was not in the least disturbed +by desire to find out the reason for the difference between his father +and himself. Logic and physics were no part of his mental make-up. + +Like most creatures of the Wild, he early experienced famine. +There came a time when not only did the meat-supply cease, but the milk +no longer came from his mother’s breast. At first, the cubs +whimpered and cried, but for the most part they slept. It was +not long before they were reduced to a coma of hunger. There were +no more spats and squabbles, no more tiny rages nor attempts at growling; +while the adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether. +The cubs slept, while the life that was in them flickered and died down. + +One Eye was desperate. He ranged far and wide, and slept but +little in the lair that had now become cheerless and miserable. +The she-wolf, too, left her litter and went out in search of meat. +In the first days after the birth of the cubs, One Eye had journeyed +several times back to the Indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; +but, with the melting of the snow and the opening of the streams, the +Indian camp had moved away, and that source of supply was closed to +him. + +When the grey cub came back to life and again took interest in the +far white wall, he found that the population of his world had been reduced. +Only one sister remained to him. The rest were gone. As +he grew stronger, he found himself compelled to play alone, for the +sister no longer lifted her head nor moved about. His little body +rounded out with the meat he now ate; but the food had come too late +for her. She slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung round with +skin in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went out. + +Then there came a time when the grey cub no longer saw his father +appearing and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the +entrance. This had happened at the end of a second and less severe +famine. The she-wolf knew why One Eye never came back, but there +was no way by which she could tell what she had seen to the grey cub. +Hunting herself for meat, up the left fork of the stream where lived +the lynx, she had followed a day-old trail of One Eye. And she +had found him, or what remained of him, at the end of the trail. +There were many signs of the battle that had been fought, and of the +lynx’s withdrawal to her lair after having won the victory. +Before she went away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but the signs +told her that the lynx was inside, and she had not dared to venture +in. + +After that, the she-wolf in her hunting avoided the left fork. +For she knew that in the lynx’s lair was a litter of kittens, +and she knew the lynx for a fierce, bad-tempered creature and a terrible +fighter. It was all very well for half a dozen wolves to drive +a lynx, spitting and bristling, up a tree; but it was quite a different +matter for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx—especially when the +lynx was known to have a litter of hungry kittens at her back. + +But the Wild is the Wild, and motherhood is motherhood, at all times +fiercely protective whether in the Wild or out of it; and the time was +to come when the she-wolf, for her grey cub’s sake, would venture +the left fork, and the lair in the rocks, and the lynx’s wrath. + +### The Wall of the World + +By the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting expeditions, +the cub had learned well the law that forbade his approaching the entrance. +Not only had this law been forcibly and many times impressed on him +by his mother’s nose and paw, but in him the instinct of fear +was developing. Never, in his brief cave-life, had he encountered +anything of which to be afraid. Yet fear was in him. It +had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand +lives. It was a heritage he had received directly from One Eye +and the she-wolf; but to them, in turn, it had been passed down through +all the generations of wolves that had gone before. Fear!—that +legacy of the Wild which no animal may escape nor exchange for pottage. + +So the grey cub knew fear, though he knew not the stuff of which +fear was made. Possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions +of life. For he had already learned that there were such restrictions. +Hunger he had known; and when he could not appease his hunger he had +felt restriction. The hard obstruction of the cave-wall, the sharp +nudge of his mother’s nose, the smashing stroke of her paw, the +hunger unappeased of several famines, had borne in upon him that all +was not freedom in the world, that to life there was limitations and +restraints. These limitations and restraints were laws. +To be obedient to them was to escape hurt and make for happiness. + +He did not reason the question out in this man fashion. He +merely classified the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt. +And after such classification he avoided the things that hurt, the restrictions +and restraints, in order to enjoy the satisfactions and the remunerations +of life. + +Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, +and in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, fear, +he kept away from the mouth of the cave. It remained to him a +white wall of light. When his mother was absent, he slept most +of the time, while during the intervals that he was awake he kept very +quiet, suppressing the whimpering cries that tickled in his throat and +strove for noise. + +Once, lying awake, he heard a strange sound in the white wall. +He did not know that it was a wolverine, standing outside, all a-trembling +with its own daring, and cautiously scenting out the contents of the +cave. The cub knew only that the sniff was strange, a something +unclassified, therefore unknown and terrible—for the unknown was +one of the chief elements that went into the making of fear. + +The hair bristled upon the grey cub’s back, but it bristled +silently. How was he to know that this thing that sniffed was +a thing at which to bristle? It was not born of any knowledge +of his, yet it was the visible expression of the fear that was in him, +and for which, in his own life, there was no accounting. But fear +was accompanied by another instinct—that of concealment. +The cub was in a frenzy of terror, yet he lay without movement or sound, +frozen, petrified into immobility, to all appearances dead. His +mother, coming home, growled as she smelt the wolverine’s track, +and bounded into the cave and licked and nozzled him with undue vehemence +of affection. And the cub felt that somehow he had escaped a great +hurt. + +But there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of which +was growth. Instinct and law demanded of him obedience. +But growth demanded disobedience. His mother and fear impelled +him to keep away from the white wall. Growth is life, and life +is for ever destined to make for light. So there was no damming +up the tide of life that was rising within him—rising with every +mouthful of meat he swallowed, with every breath he drew. In the +end, one day, fear and obedience were swept away by the rush of life, +and the cub straddled and sprawled toward the entrance. + +Unlike any other wall with which he had had experience, this wall +seemed to recede from him as he approached. No hard surface collided +with the tender little nose he thrust out tentatively before him. +The substance of the wall seemed as permeable and yielding as light. +And as condition, in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he entered +into what had been wall to him and bathed in the substance that composed +it. + +It was bewildering. He was sprawling through solidity. +And ever the light grew brighter. Fear urged him to go back, but +growth drove him on. Suddenly he found himself at the mouth of +the cave. The wall, inside which he had thought himself, as suddenly +leaped back before him to an immeasurable distance. The light +had become painfully bright. He was dazzled by it. Likewise +he was made dizzy by this abrupt and tremendous extension of space. +Automatically, his eyes were adjusting themselves to the brightness, +focusing themselves to meet the increased distance of objects. +At first, the wall had leaped beyond his vision. He now saw it +again; but it had taken upon itself a remarkable remoteness. Also, +its appearance had changed. It was now a variegated wall, composed +of the trees that fringed the stream, the opposing mountain that towered +above the trees, and the sky that out-towered the mountain. + +A great fear came upon him. This was more of the terrible unknown. +He crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world. +He was very much afraid. Because it was unknown, it was hostile +to him. Therefore the hair stood up on end along his back and +his lips wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidating +snarl. Out of his puniness and fright he challenged and menaced +the whole wide world. + +Nothing happened. He continued to gaze, and in his interest +he forgot to snarl. Also, he forgot to be afraid. For the +time, fear had been routed by growth, while growth had assumed the guise +of curiosity. He began to notice near objects—an open portion +of the stream that flashed in the sun, the blasted pine-tree that stood +at the base of the slope, and the slope itself, that ran right up to +him and ceased two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he crouched. + +Now the grey cub had lived all his days on a level floor. He +had never experienced the hurt of a fall. He did not know what +a fall was. So he stepped boldly out upon the air. His hind-legs +still rested on the cave-lip, so he fell forward head downward. +The earth struck him a harsh blow on the nose that made him yelp. +Then he began rolling down the slope, over and over. He was in +a panic of terror. The unknown had caught him at last. It +had gripped savagely hold of him and was about to wreak upon him some +terrific hurt. Growth was now routed by fear, and he ki-yi’d +like any frightened puppy. + +The unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt, and he +yelped and ki-yi’d unceasingly. This was a different proposition +from crouching in frozen fear while the unknown lurked just alongside. +Now the unknown had caught tight hold of him. Silence would do +no good. Besides, it was not fear, but terror, that convulsed +him. + +But the slope grew more gradual, and its base was grass-covered. +Here the cub lost momentum. When at last he came to a stop, he +gave one last agonised yell and then a long, whimpering wail. +Also, and quite as a matter of course, as though in his life he had +already made a thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry clay +that soiled him. + +After that he sat up and gazed about him, as might the first man +of the earth who landed upon Mars. The cub had broken through +the wall of the world, the unknown had let go its hold of him, and here +he was without hurt. But the first man on Mars would have experienced +less unfamiliarity than did he. Without any antecedent knowledge, +without any warning whatever that such existed, he found himself an +explorer in a totally new world. + +Now that the terrible unknown had let go of him, he forgot that the +unknown had any terrors. He was aware only of curiosity in all +the things about him. He inspected the grass beneath him, the +moss-berry plant just beyond, and the dead trunk of the blasted pine +that stood on the edge of an open space among the trees. A squirrel, +running around the base of the trunk, came full upon him, and gave him +a great fright. He cowered down and snarled. But the squirrel +was as badly scared. It ran up the tree, and from a point of safety +chattered back savagely. + +This helped the cub’s courage, and though the woodpecker he +next encountered gave him a start, he proceeded confidently on his way. +Such was his confidence, that when a moose-bird impudently hopped up +to him, he reached out at it with a playful paw. The result was +a sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him cower down and ki-yi. +The noise he made was too much for the moose-bird, who sought safety +in flight. + +But the cub was learning. His misty little mind had already +made an unconscious classification. There were live things and +things not alive. Also, he must watch out for the live things. +The things not alive remained always in one place, but the live things +moved about, and there was no telling what they might do. The +thing to expect of them was the unexpected, and for this he must be +prepared. + +He travelled very clumsily. He ran into sticks and things. +A twig that he thought a long way off, would the next instant hit him +on the nose or rake along his ribs. There were inequalities of +surface. Sometimes he overstepped and stubbed his nose. +Quite as often he understepped and stubbed his feet. Then there +were the pebbles and stones that turned under him when he trod upon +them; and from them he came to know that the things not alive were not +all in the same state of stable equilibrium as was his cave—also, +that small things not alive were more liable than large things to fall +down or turn over. But with every mishap he was learning. +The longer he walked, the better he walked. He was adjusting himself. +He was learning to calculate his own muscular movements, to know his +physical limitations, to measure distances between objects, and between +objects and himself. + +His was the luck of the beginner. Born to be a hunter of meat +(though he did not know it), he blundered upon meat just outside his +own cave-door on his first foray into the world. It was by sheer +blundering that he chanced upon the shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest. +He fell into it. He had essayed to walk along the trunk of a fallen +pine. The rotten bark gave way under his feet, and with a despairing +yelp he pitched down the rounded crescent, smashed through the leafage +and stalks of a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, on the ground, +fetched up in the midst of seven ptarmigan chicks. + +They made noises, and at first he was frightened at them. Then +he perceived that they were very little, and he became bolder. +They moved. He placed his paw on one, and its movements were accelerated. +This was a source of enjoyment to him. He smelled it. He +picked it up in his mouth. It struggled and tickled his tongue. +At the same time he was made aware of a sensation of hunger. His +jaws closed together. There was a crunching of fragile bones, +and warm blood ran in his mouth. The taste of it was good. +This was meat, the same as his mother gave him, only it was alive between +his teeth and therefore better. So he ate the ptarmigan. +Nor did he stop till he had devoured the whole brood. Then he +licked his chops in quite the same way his mother did, and began to +crawl out of the bush. + +He encountered a feathered whirlwind. He was confused and blinded +by the rush of it and the beat of angry wings. He hid his head +between his paws and yelped. The blows increased. The mother +ptarmigan was in a fury. Then he became angry. He rose up, +snarling, striking out with his paws. He sank his tiny teeth into +one of the wings and pulled and tugged sturdily. The ptarmigan +struggled against him, showering blows upon him with her free wing. +It was his first battle. He was elated. He forgot all about +the unknown. He no longer was afraid of anything. He was +fighting, tearing at a live thing that was striking at him. Also, +this live thing was meat. The lust to kill was on him. He +had just destroyed little live things. He would now destroy a +big live thing. He was too busy and happy to know that he was +happy. He was thrilling and exulting in ways new to him and greater +to him than any he had known before. + +He held on to the wing and growled between his tight-clenched teeth. +The ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush. When she turned and +tried to drag him back into the bush’s shelter, he pulled her +away from it and on into the open. And all the time she was making +outcry and striking with her free wing, while feathers were flying like +a snow-fall. The pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous. +All the fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging through +him. This was living, though he did not know it. He was +realising his own meaning in the world; he was doing that for which +he was made—killing meat and battling to kill it. He was +justifying his existence, than which life can do no greater; for life +achieves its summit when it does to the uttermost that which it was +equipped to do. + +After a time, the ptarmigan ceased her struggling. He still +held her by the wing, and they lay on the ground and looked at each +other. He tried to growl threateningly, ferociously. She +pecked on his nose, which by now, what of previous adventures was sore. +He winced but held on. She pecked him again and again. From +wincing he went to whimpering. He tried to back away from her, +oblivious to the fact that by his hold on her he dragged her after him. +A rain of pecks fell on his ill-used nose. The flood of fight +ebbed down in him, and, releasing his prey, he turned tail and scampered +on across the open in inglorious retreat. + +He lay down to rest on the other side of the open, near the edge +of the bushes, his tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and panting, +his nose still hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper. +But as he lay there, suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something +terrible impending. The unknown with all its terrors rushed upon +him, and he shrank back instinctively into the shelter of the bush. +As he did so, a draught of air fanned him, and a large, winged body +swept ominously and silently past. A hawk, driving down out of +the blue, had barely missed him. + +While he lay in the bush, recovering from his fright and peering +fearfully out, the mother-ptarmigan on the other side of the open space +fluttered out of the ravaged nest. It was because of her loss +that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky. But +the cub saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him—the swift +downward swoop of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the +ground, the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the ptarmigan’s +squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk’s rush upward into the +blue, carrying the ptarmigan away with it. + +It was a long time before the cub left its shelter. He had +learned much. Live things were meat. They were good to eat. +Also, live things when they were large enough, could give hurt. +It was better to eat small live things like ptarmigan chicks, and to +let alone large live things like ptarmigan hens. Nevertheless +he felt a little prick of ambition, a sneaking desire to have another +battle with that ptarmigan hen—only the hawk had carried her away. +May be there were other ptarmigan hens. He would go and see. + +He came down a shelving bank to the stream. He had never seen +water before. The footing looked good. There were no inequalities +of surface. He stepped boldly out on it; and went down, crying +with fear, into the embrace of the unknown. It was cold, and he +gasped, breathing quickly. The water rushed into his lungs instead +of the air that had always accompanied his act of breathing. The +suffocation he experienced was like the pang of death. To him +it signified death. He had no conscious knowledge of death, but +like every animal of the Wild, he possessed the instinct of death. +To him it stood as the greatest of hurts. It was the very essence +of the unknown; it was the sum of the terrors of the unknown, the one +culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen to him, about +which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything. + +He came to the surface, and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth. +He did not go down again. Quite as though it had been a long-established +custom of his he struck out with all his legs and began to swim. +The near bank was a yard away; but he had come up with his back to it, +and the first thing his eyes rested upon was the opposite bank, toward +which he immediately began to swim. The stream was a small one, +but in the pool it widened out to a score of feet. + +Midway in the passage, the current picked up the cub and swept him +downstream. He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom +of the pool. Here was little chance for swimming. The quiet +water had become suddenly angry. Sometimes he was under, sometimes +on top. At all times he was in violent motion, now being turned +over or around, and again, being smashed against a rock. And with +every rock he struck, he yelped. His progress was a series of +yelps, from which might have been adduced the number of rocks he encountered. + +Below the rapid was a second pool, and here, captured by the eddy, +he was gently borne to the bank, and as gently deposited on a bed of +gravel. He crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down. +He had learned some more about the world. Water was not alive. +Yet it moved. Also, it looked as solid as the earth, but was without +any solidity at all. His conclusion was that things were not always +what they appeared to be. The cub’s fear of the unknown +was an inherited distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. +Thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding distrust +of appearances. He would have to learn the reality of a thing +before he could put his faith into it. + +One other adventure was destined for him that day. He had recollected +that there was such a thing in the world as his mother. And then +there came to him a feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest +of the things in the world. Not only was his body tired with the +adventures it had undergone, but his little brain was equally tired. +In all the days he had lived it had not worked so hard as on this one +day. Furthermore, he was sleepy. So he started out to look +for the cave and his mother, feeling at the same time an overwhelming +rush of loneliness and helplessness. + +He was sprawling along between some bushes, when he heard a sharp +intimidating cry. There was a flash of yellow before his eyes. +He saw a weasel leaping swiftly away from him. It was a small +live thing, and he had no fear. Then, before him, at his feet, +he saw an extremely small live thing, only several inches long, a young +weasel, that, like himself, had disobediently gone out adventuring. +It tried to retreat before him. He turned it over with his paw. +It made a queer, grating noise. The next moment the flash of yellow +reappeared before his eyes. He heard again the intimidating cry, +and at the same instant received a sharp blow on the side of the neck +and felt the sharp teeth of the mother-weasel cut into his flesh. + +While he yelped and ki-yi’d and scrambled backward, he saw +the mother-weasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into +the neighbouring thicket. The cut of her teeth in his neck still +hurt, but his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and +weakly whimpered. This mother-weasel was so small and so savage. +He was yet to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most +ferocious, vindictive, and terrible of all the killers of the Wild. +But a portion of this knowledge was quickly to be his. + +He was still whimpering when the mother-weasel reappeared. +She did not rush him, now that her young one was safe. She approached +more cautiously, and the cub had full opportunity to observe her lean, +snakelike body, and her head, erect, eager, and snake-like itself. +Her sharp, menacing cry sent the hair bristling along his back, and +he snarled warningly at her. She came closer and closer. +There was a leap, swifter than his unpractised sight, and the lean, +yellow body disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision. +The next moment she was at his throat, her teeth buried in his hair +and flesh. + +At first he snarled and tried to fight; but he was very young, and +this was only his first day in the world, and his snarl became a whimper, +his fight a struggle to escape. The weasel never relaxed her hold. +She hung on, striving to press down with her teeth to the great vein +where his life-blood bubbled. The weasel was a drinker of blood, +and it was ever her preference to drink from the throat of life itself. + +The grey cub would have died, and there would have been no story +to write about him, had not the she-wolf come bounding through the bushes. +The weasel let go the cub and flashed at the she-wolf’s throat, +missing, but getting a hold on the jaw instead. The she-wolf flirted +her head like the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel’s hold and +flinging it high in the air. And, still in the air, the she-wolf’s +jaws closed on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel knew death between +the crunching teeth. + +The cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his +mother. Her joy at finding him seemed even greater than his joy +at being found. She nozzled him and caressed him and licked the +cuts made in him by the weasel’s teeth. Then, between them, +mother and cub, they ate the blood-drinker, and after that went back +to the cave and slept. + +### The Law of Meat + +The cub’s development was rapid. He rested for two days, +and then ventured forth from the cave again. It was on this adventure +that he found the young weasel whose mother he had helped eat, and he +saw to it that the young weasel went the way of its mother. But +on this trip he did not get lost. When he grew tired, he found +his way back to the cave and slept. And every day thereafter found +him out and ranging a wider area. + +He began to get accurate measurement of his strength and his weakness, +and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious. He found +it expedient to be cautious all the time, except for the rare moments, +when, assured of his own intrepidity, he abandoned himself to petty +rages and lusts. + +He was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray +ptarmigan. Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter +of the squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine. While the +sight of a moose-bird almost invariably put him into the wildest of +rages; for he never forgot the peck on the nose he had received from +the first of that ilk he encountered. + +But there were times when even a moose-bird failed to affect him, +and those were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some +other prowling meat hunter. He never forgot the hawk, and its +moving shadow always sent him crouching into the nearest thicket. +He no longer sprawled and straddled, and already he was developing the +gait of his mother, slinking and furtive, apparently without exertion, +yet sliding along with a swiftness that was as deceptive as it was imperceptible. + +In the matter of meat, his luck had been all in the beginning. +The seven ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of +his killings. His desire to kill strengthened with the days, and +he cherished hungry ambitions for the squirrel that chattered so volubly +and always informed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub was approaching. +But as birds flew in the air, squirrels could climb trees, and the cub +could only try to crawl unobserved upon the squirrel when it was on +the ground. + +The cub entertained a great respect for his mother. She could +get meat, and she never failed to bring him his share. Further, +she was unafraid of things. It did not occur to him that this +fearlessness was founded upon experience and knowledge. Its effect +on him was that of an impression of power. His mother represented +power; and as he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonishment +of her paw; while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the +slash of her fangs. For this, likewise, he respected his mother. +She compelled obedience from him, and the older he grew the shorter +grew her temper. + +Famine came again, and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once +more the bite of hunger. The she-wolf ran herself thin in the +quest for meat. She rarely slept any more in the cave, spending +most of her time on the meat-trail, and spending it vainly. This +famine was not a long one, but it was severe while it lasted. +The cub found no more milk in his mother’s breast, nor did he +get one mouthful of meat for himself. + +Before, he had hunted in play, for the sheer joyousness of it; now +he hunted in deadly earnestness, and found nothing. Yet the failure +of it accelerated his development. He studied the habits of the +squirrel with greater carefulness, and strove with greater craft to +steal upon it and surprise it. He studied the wood-mice and tried +to dig them out of their burrows; and he learned much about the ways +of moose-birds and woodpeckers. And there came a day when the +hawk’s shadow did not drive him crouching into the bushes. +He had grown stronger and wiser, and more confident. Also, he +was desperate. So he sat on his haunches, conspicuously in an +open space, and challenged the hawk down out of the sky. For he +knew that there, floating in the blue above him, was meat, the meat +his stomach yearned after so insistently. But the hawk refused +to come down and give battle, and the cub crawled away into a thicket +and whimpered his disappointment and hunger. + +The famine broke. The she-wolf brought home meat. It +was strange meat, different from any she had ever brought before. +It was a lynx kitten, partly grown, like the cub, but not so large. +And it was all for him. His mother had satisfied her hunger elsewhere; +though he did not know that it was the rest of the lynx litter that +had gone to satisfy her. Nor did he know the desperateness of +her deed. He knew only that the velvet-furred kitten was meat, +and he ate and waxed happier with every mouthful. + +A full stomach conduces to inaction, and the cub lay in the cave, +sleeping against his mother’s side. He was aroused by her +snarling. Never had he heard her snarl so terribly. Possibly +in her whole life it was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. +There was reason for it, and none knew it better than she. A lynx’s +lair is not despoiled with impunity. In the full glare of the +afternoon light, crouching in the entrance of the cave, the cub saw +the lynx-mother. The hair rippled up along his back at the sight. +Here was fear, and it did not require his instinct to tell him of it. +And if sight alone were not sufficient, the cry of rage the intruder +gave, beginning with a snarl and rushing abruptly upward into a hoarse +screech, was convincing enough in itself. + +The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and +snarled valiantly by his mother’s side. But she thrust him +ignominiously away and behind her. Because of the low-roofed entrance +the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling rush of it +the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down. The cub saw +little of the battle. There was a tremendous snarling and spitting +and screeching. The two animals threshed about, the lynx ripping +and tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf +used her teeth alone. + +Once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the +lynx. He clung on, growling savagely. Though he did not +know it, by the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg +and thereby saved his mother much damage. A change in the battle +crushed him under both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold. +The next moment the two mothers separated, and, before they rushed together +again, the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped +his shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against +the wall. Then was added to the uproar the cub’s shrill +yelp of pain and fright. But the fight lasted so long that he +had time to cry himself out and to experience a second burst of courage; +and the end of the battle found him again clinging to a hind-leg and +furiously growling between his teeth. + +The lynx was dead. But the she-wolf was very weak and sick. +At first she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the +blood she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a +day and a night she lay by her dead foe’s side, without movement, +scarcely breathing. For a week she never left the cave, except +for water, and then her movements were slow and painful. At the +end of that time the lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf’s wounds +had healed sufficiently to permit her to take the meat-trail again. + +The cub’s shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he +limped from the terrible slash he had received. But the world +now seemed changed. He went about in it with greater confidence, +with a feeling of prowess that had not been his in the days before the +battle with the lynx. He had looked upon life in a more ferocious +aspect; he had fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; +and he had survived. And because of all this, he carried himself +more boldly, with a touch of defiance that was new in him. He +was no longer afraid of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, +though the unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries +and terrors, intangible and ever-menacing. + +He began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much +of the killing of meat and began to play his part in it. And in +his own dim way he learned the law of meat. There were two kinds +of life—his own kind and the other kind. His own kind included +his mother and himself. The other kind included all live things +that moved. But the other kind was divided. One portion +was what his own kind killed and ate. This portion was composed +of the non-killers and the small killers. The other portion killed +and ate his own kind, or was killed and eaten by his own kind. +And out of this classification arose the law. The aim of life +was meat. Life itself was meat. Life lived on life. +There were the eaters and the eaten. The law was: EAT OR BE EATEN. +He did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralise about +it. He did not even think the law; he merely lived the law without +thinking about it at all. + +He saw the law operating around him on every side. He had eaten +the ptarmigan chicks. The hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother. +The hawk would also have eaten him. Later, when he had grown more +formidable, he wanted to eat the hawk. He had eaten the lynx kitten. +The lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed +and eaten. And so it went. The law was being lived about +him by all live things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law. +He was a killer. His only food was meat, live meat, that ran away +swiftly before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in +the ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and +ran after him. + +Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomised life +as a voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude +of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, +eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence +and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, +merciless, planless, endless. + +But the cub did not think in man-fashion. He did not look at +things with wide vision. He was single-purposed, and entertained +but one thought or desire at a time. Besides the law of meat, +there were a myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey. +The world was filled with surprise. The stir of the life that +was in him, the play of his muscles, was an unending happiness. +To run down meat was to experience thrills and elations. His rages +and battles were pleasures. Terror itself, and the mystery of +the unknown, led to his living. + +And there were easements and satisfactions. To have a full +stomach, to doze lazily in the sunshine—such things were remuneration +in full for his ardours and toils, while his ardours and tolls were +in themselves self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, +and life is always happy when it is expressing itself. So the +cub had no quarrel with his hostile environment. He was very much +alive, very happy, and very proud of himself. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17109c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.html @@ -0,0 +1,1737 @@ + + + + + Part III + + + + +
+

+
+

The Makers of Fire

+

+ The cub came upon it suddenly. It was his own fault. He had been + careless. He had left the cave and run down to the stream to drink. It + might have been that he took no notice because he was heavy with + sleep. (He had been out all night on the meat-trail, and had but just + then awakened.) And his carelessness might have been due to the + familiarity of the trail to the pool. He had travelled it often, and + nothing had ever happened on it. +

+

+ He went down past the blasted pine, crossed the open space, and + trotted in amongst the trees. Then, at the same instant, he saw and + smelt. Before him, sitting silently on their haunches, were five live + things, the like of which he had never seen before. It was his first + glimpse of mankind. But at the sight of him the five men did not + spring to their feet, nor show their teeth, nor snarl. They did not + move, but sat there, silent and ominous. +

+

+ Nor did the cub move. Every instinct of his nature would have impelled + him to dash wildly away, had there not suddenly and for the first time + arisen in him another and counter instinct. A great awe descended upon + him. He was beaten down to movelessness by an overwhelming sense of + his own weakness and littleness. Here was mastery and power, something + far and away beyond him. +

+

+ The cub had never seen man, yet the instinct concerning man was his. + In dim ways he recognised in man the animal that had fought itself to + primacy over the other animals of the Wild. Not alone out of his own + eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now looking + upon man—out of eyes that had circled in the darkness around countless + winter camp-fires, that had peered from safe distances and from the + hearts of thickets at the strange, two-legged animal that was lord + over living things. The spell of the cub’s heritage was upon him, the + fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle and the + accumulated experience of the generations. The heritage was too + compelling for a wolf that was only a cub. Had he been full-grown, he + would have run away. As it was, he cowered down in a paralysis of + fear, already half proffering the submission that his kind had + proffered from the first time a wolf came in to sit by man’s fire and + be made warm. +

+

+ One of the Indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above him. + The cub cowered closer to the ground. It was the unknown, objectified + at last, in concrete flesh and blood, bending over him and reaching + down to seize hold of him. His hair bristled involuntarily; his lips + writhed back and his little fangs were bared. The hand, poised like + doom above him, hesitated, and the man spoke laughing, “Wabam wabisca ip pit tah.” (“Look! The white fangs!”) +

+

+ The other Indians laughed loudly, and urged the man on to pick up the + cub. As the hand descended closer and closer, there raged within the + cub a battle of the instincts. He experienced two great impulsions—to + yield and to fight. The resulting action was a compromise. He did + both. He yielded till the hand almost touched him. Then he fought, his + teeth flashing in a snap that sank them into the hand. The next moment + he received a clout alongside the head that knocked him over on his + side. Then all fight fled out of him. His puppyhood and the instinct + of submission took charge of him. He sat up on his haunches and + ki-yi’d. But the man whose hand he had bitten was angry. The cub + received a clout on the other side of his head. Whereupon he sat up + and ki-yi’d louder than ever. +

+

+ The four Indians laughed more loudly, while even the man who had been + bitten began to laugh. They surrounded the cub and laughed at him, + while he wailed out his terror and his hurt. In the midst of it, he + heard something. The Indians heard it too. But the cub knew what it + was, and with a last, long wail that had in it more of triumph than + grief, he ceased his noise and waited for the coming of his mother, of + his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and killed all things + and was never afraid. She was snarling as she ran. She had heard the + cry of her cub and was dashing to save him. +

+

+ She bounded in amongst them, her anxious and militant motherhood + making her anything but a pretty sight. But to the cub the spectacle + of her protective rage was pleasing. He uttered a glad little cry and + bounded to meet her, while the man-animals went back hastily several + steps. The she-wolf stood over against her cub, facing the men, with + bristling hair, a snarl rumbling deep in her throat. Her face was + distorted and malignant with menace, even the bridge of the nose + wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl. +

+

+ Then it was that a cry went up from one of the men. “Kiche!” was what + he uttered. It was an exclamation of surprise. The cub felt his mother + wilting at the sound. +

+

+ “Kiche!” the man cried again, this time with sharpness and authority. +

+

+ And then the cub saw his mother, the she-wolf, the fearless one, + crouching down till her belly touched the ground, whimpering, wagging + her tail, making peace signs. The cub could not understand. He was + appalled. The awe of man rushed over him again. His instinct had been + true. His mother verified it. She, too, rendered submission to the + man-animals. +

+

+ The man who had spoken came over to her. He put his hand upon her + head, and she only crouched closer. She did not snap, nor threaten to + snap. The other men came up, and surrounded her, and felt her, and + pawed her, which actions she made no attempt to resent. They were + greatly excited, and made many noises with their mouths. These noises + were not indication of danger, the cub decided, as he crouched near + his mother still bristling from time to time but doing his best to + submit. +

+

+ “It is not strange,” an Indian was saying. “Her father was a wolf. It + is true, her mother was a dog; but did not my brother tie her out in + the woods all of three nights in the mating season? Therefore was the + father of Kiche a wolf.” +

+

+ “It is a year, Grey Beaver, since she ran away,” spoke a second + Indian. +

+

+ “It is not strange, Salmon Tongue,” Grey Beaver answered. “It was the + time of the famine, and there was no meat for the dogs.” +

+

“She has lived with the wolves,” said a third Indian.

+

+ “So it would seem, Three Eagles,” Grey Beaver answered, laying his + hand on the cub; “and this be the sign of it.” +

+

+ The cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand, and the hand flew + back to administer a clout. Whereupon the cub covered its fangs, and + sank down submissively, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind his + ears, and up and down his back. +

+

+ “This be the sign of it,” Grey Beaver went on. “It is plain that his + mother is Kiche. But his father was a wolf. Wherefore is there in him + little dog and much wolf. His fangs be white, and White Fang shall be + his name. I have spoken. He is my dog. For was not Kiche my brother’s + dog? And is not my brother dead?” +

+

+ The cub, who had thus received a name in the world, lay and watched. + For a time the man-animals continued to make their mouth-noises. Then + Grey Beaver took a knife from a sheath that hung around his neck, and + went into the thicket and cut a stick. White Fang watched him. He + notched the stick at each end and in the notches fastened strings of + raw-hide. One string he tied around the throat of Kiche. Then he led + her to a small pine, around which he tied the other string. +

+

+ White Fang followed and lay down beside her. Salmon Tongue’s hand + reached out to him and rolled him over on his back. Kiche looked on + anxiously. White Fang felt fear mounting in him again. He could not + quite suppress a snarl, but he made no offer to snap. The hand, with + fingers crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stomach in a playful way + and rolled him from side to side. It was ridiculous and ungainly, + lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air. Besides, it + was a position of such utter helplessness that White Fang’s whole + nature revolted against it. He could do nothing to defend himself. If + this man-animal intended harm, White Fang knew that he could not + escape it. How could he spring away with his four legs in the air + above him? Yet submission made him master his fear, and he only + growled softly. This growl he could not suppress; nor did the + man-animal resent it by giving him a blow on the head. And + furthermore, such was the strangeness of it, White Fang experienced an + unaccountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and forth. + When he was rolled on his side he ceased to growl, when the fingers + pressed and prodded at the base of his ears the pleasurable sensation + increased; and when, with a final rub and scratch, the man left him + alone and went away, all fear had died out of White Fang. He was to + know fear many times in his dealing with man; yet it was a token of + the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to be his. +

+

+ After a time, White Fang heard strange noises approaching. He was + quick in his classification, for he knew them at once for man-animal + noises. A few minutes later the remainder of the tribe, strung out as + it was on the march, trailed in. There were more men and many women + and children, forty souls of them, and all heavily burdened with camp + equipage and outfit. Also there were many dogs; and these, with the + exception of the part-grown puppies, were likewise burdened with camp + outfit. On their backs, in bags that fastened tightly around + underneath, the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of weight. +

+

+ White Fang had never seen dogs before, but at sight of them he felt + that they were his own kind, only somehow different. But they + displayed little difference from the wolf when they discovered the cub + and his mother. There was a rush. White Fang bristled and snarled and + snapped in the face of the open-mouthed oncoming wave of dogs, and + went down and under them, feeling the sharp slash of teeth in his + body, himself biting and tearing at the legs and bellies above him. + There was a great uproar. He could hear the snarl of Kiche as she + fought for him; and he could hear the cries of the man-animals, the + sound of clubs striking upon bodies, and the yelps of pain from the + dogs so struck. +

+

+ Only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again. He could + now see the man-animals driving back the dogs with clubs and stones, + defending him, saving him from the savage teeth of his kind that + somehow was not his kind. And though there was no reason in his brain + for a clear conception of so abstract a thing as justice, + nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the justice of the man-animals, + and he knew them for what they were—makers of law and executors of + law. Also, he appreciated the power with which they administered the + law. Unlike any animals he had ever encountered, they did not bite nor + claw. They enforced their live strength with the power of dead things. + Dead things did their bidding. Thus, sticks and stones, directed by + these strange creatures, leaped through the air like living things, + inflicting grievous hurts upon the dogs. +

+

+ To his mind this was power unusual, power inconceivable and beyond the + natural, power that was godlike. White Fang, in the very nature of + him, could never know anything about gods; at the best he could know + only things that were beyond knowing—but the wonder and awe that he + had of these man-animals in ways resembled what would be the wonder + and awe of man at sight of some celestial creature, on a mountain top, + hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an astonished world. +

+

+ The last dog had been driven back. The hubbub died down. And White + Fang licked his hurts and meditated upon this, his first taste of + pack-cruelty and his introduction to the pack. He had never dreamed + that his own kind consisted of more than One Eye, his mother, and + himself. They had constituted a kind apart, and here, abruptly, he had + discovered many more creatures apparently of his own kind. And there + was a subconscious resentment that these, his kind, at first sight had + pitched upon him and tried to destroy him. In the same way he resented + his mother being tied with a stick, even though it was done by the + superior man-animals. It savoured of the trap, of bondage. Yet of the + trap and of bondage he knew nothing. Freedom to roam and run and lie + down at will, had been his heritage; and here it was being infringed + upon. His mother’s movements were restricted to the length of a stick, + and by the length of that same stick was he restricted, for he had not + yet got beyond the need of his mother’s side. +

+

+ He did not like it. Nor did he like it when the man-animals arose and + went on with their march; for a tiny man-animal took the other end of + the stick and led Kiche captive behind him, and behind Kiche followed + White Fang, greatly perturbed and worried by this new adventure he had + entered upon. +

+

+ They went down the valley of the stream, far beyond White Fang’s + widest ranging, until they came to the end of the valley, where the + stream ran into the Mackenzie River. Here, where canoes were cached on + poles high in the air and where stood fish-racks for the drying of + fish, camp was made; and White Fang looked on with wondering eyes. The + superiority of these man-animals increased with every moment. There + was their mastery over all these sharp-fanged dogs. It breathed of + power. But greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was their mastery over + things not alive; their capacity to communicate motion to unmoving + things; their capacity to change the very face of the world. +

+

+ It was this last that especially affected him. The elevation of frames + of poles caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so remarkable, + being done by the same creatures that flung sticks and stones to great + distances. But when the frames of poles were made into tepees by being + covered with cloth and skins, White Fang was astounded. It was the + colossal bulk of them that impressed him. They arose around him, on + every side, like some monstrous quick-growing form of life. They + occupied nearly the whole circumference of his field of vision. He was + afraid of them. They loomed ominously above him; and when the breeze + stirred them into huge movements, he cowered down in fear, keeping his + eyes warily upon them, and prepared to spring away if they attempted + to precipitate themselves upon him. +

+

+ But in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away. He saw the + women and children passing in and out of them without harm, and he saw + the dogs trying often to get into them, and being driven away with + sharp words and flying stones. After a time, he left Kiche’s side and + crawled cautiously toward the wall of the nearest tepee. It was the + curiosity of growth that urged him on—the necessity of learning and + living and doing that brings experience. The last few inches to the + wall of the tepee were crawled with painful slowness and precaution. + The day’s events had prepared him for the unknown to manifest itself + in most stupendous and unthinkable ways. At last his nose touched the + canvas. He waited. Nothing happened. Then he smelled the strange + fabric, saturated with the man-smell. He closed on the canvas with his + teeth and gave a gentle tug. Nothing happened, though the adjacent + portions of the tepee moved. He tugged harder. There was a greater + movement. It was delightful. He tugged still harder, and repeatedly, + until the whole tepee was in motion. Then the sharp cry of a squaw + inside sent him scampering back to Kiche. But after that he was afraid + no more of the looming bulks of the tepees. +

+

+ A moment later he was straying away again from his mother. Her stick + was tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him. A + part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came toward him + slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance. The puppy’s + name, as White Fang was afterward to hear him called, was Lip-lip. He + had had experience in puppy fights and was already something of a + bully. +

+

+ Lip-lip was White Fang’s own kind, and, being only a puppy, did not + seem dangerous; so White Fang prepared to meet him in a friendly + spirit. But when the strangers walk became stiff-legged and his lips + lifted clear of his teeth, White Fang stiffened too, and answered with + lifted lips. They half circled about each other, tentatively, snarling + and bristling. This lasted several minutes, and White Fang was + beginning to enjoy it, as a sort of game. But suddenly, with + remarkable swiftness, Lip-lip leaped in, delivering a slashing snap, + and leaped away again. The snap had taken effect on the shoulder that + had been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep down near the + bone. The surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp out of White Fang; + but the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon Lip-lip and + snapping viciously. +

+

+ But Lip-lip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy + fights. Three times, four times, and half a dozen times, his sharp + little teeth scored on the newcomer, until White Fang, yelping + shamelessly, fled to the protection of his mother. It was the first of + the many fights he was to have with Lip-lip, for they were enemies + from the start, born so, with natures destined perpetually to clash. +

+

+ Kiche licked White Fang soothingly with her tongue, and tried to + prevail upon him to remain with her. But his curiosity was rampant, + and several minutes later he was venturing forth on a new quest. He + came upon one of the man-animals, Grey Beaver, who was squatting on + his hams and doing something with sticks and dry moss spread before + him on the ground. White Fang came near to him and watched. Grey + Beaver made mouth-noises which White Fang interpreted as not hostile, + so he came still nearer. +

+

+ Women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to Grey + Beaver. It was evidently an affair of moment. White Fang came in until + he touched Grey Beaver’s knee, so curious was he, and already + forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. Suddenly he saw a + strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks and moss + beneath Grey Beaver’s hands. Then, amongst the sticks themselves, + appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a colour like the + colour of the sun in the sky. White Fang knew nothing about fire. It + drew him as the light, in the mouth of the cave had drawn him in his + early puppyhood. He crawled the several steps toward the flame. He + heard Grey Beaver chuckle above him, and he knew the sound was not + hostile. Then his nose touched the flame, and at the same instant his + little tongue went out to it. +

+

+ For a moment he was paralysed. The unknown, lurking in the midst of + the sticks and moss, was savagely clutching him by the nose. He + scrambled backward, bursting out in an astonished explosion of + ki-yi’s. At the sound, Kiche leaped snarling to the end of her stick, + and there raged terribly because she could not come to his aid. But + Grey Beaver laughed loudly, and slapped his thighs, and told the + happening to all the rest of the camp, till everybody was laughing + uproariously. But White Fang sat on his haunches and ki-yi’d and + ki-yi’d, a forlorn and pitiable little figure in the midst of the + man-animals. +

+

+ It was the worst hurt he had ever known. Both nose and tongue had been + scorched by the live thing, sun-coloured, that had grown up under Grey + Beaver’s hands. He cried and cried interminably, and every fresh wail + was greeted by bursts of laughter on the part of the man-animals. He + tried to soothe his nose with his tongue, but the tongue was burnt + too, and the two hurts coming together produced greater hurt; + whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than ever. +

+

+ And then shame came to him. He knew laughter and the meaning of it. It + is not given us to know how some animals know laughter, and know when + they are being laughed at; but it was this same way that White Fang + knew it. And he felt shame that the man-animals should be laughing at + him. He turned and fled away, not from the hurt of the fire, but from + the laughter that sank even deeper, and hurt in the spirit of him. And + he fled to Kiche, raging at the end of her stick like an animal gone + mad—to Kiche, the one creature in the world who was not laughing at + him. +

+

+ Twilight drew down and night came on, and White Fang lay by his + mother’s side. His nose and tongue still hurt, but he was perplexed by + a greater trouble. He was homesick. He felt a vacancy in him, a need + for the hush and quietude of the stream and the cave in the cliff. + Life had become too populous. There were so many of the man-animals, + men, women, and children, all making noises and irritations. And there + were the dogs, ever squabbling and bickering, bursting into uproars + and creating confusions. The restful loneliness of the only life he + had known was gone. Here the very air was palpitant with life. It + hummed and buzzed unceasingly. Continually changing its intensity and + abruptly variant in pitch, it impinged on his nerves and senses, made + him nervous and restless and worried him with a perpetual imminence of + happening. +

+

+ He watched the man-animals coming and going and moving about the camp. + In fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the gods they + create, so looked White Fang upon the man-animals before him. They + were superior creatures, of a verity, gods. To his dim comprehension + they were as much wonder-workers as gods are to men. They were + creatures of mastery, possessing all manner of unknown and impossible + potencies, overlords of the alive and the not alive—making obey that + which moved, imparting movement to that which did not move, and making + life, sun-coloured and biting life, to grow out of dead moss and wood. + They were fire-makers! They were gods. +

+
+
+

The Bondage

+

+ The days were thronged with experience for White Fang. During the time + that Kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about over all the camp, + inquiring, investigating, learning. He quickly came to know much of + the ways of the man-animals, but familiarity did not breed contempt. + The more he came to know them, the more they vindicated their + superiority, the more they displayed their mysterious powers, the + greater loomed their god-likeness. +

+

+ To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown + and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have + come in to crouch at man’s feet, this grief has never come. Unlike + man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, vapours and + mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths of + desired goodness and power, intangible out-croppings of self into the + realm of spirit—unlike man, the wolf and the wild dog that have come + in to the fire find their gods in the living flesh, solid to the + touch, occupying earth-space and requiring time for the accomplishment + of their ends and their existence. No effort of faith is necessary to + believe in such a god; no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief + in such a god. There is no getting away from it. There it stands, on + its two hind-legs, club in hand, immensely potential, passionate and + wrathful and loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and + around by flesh that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat + like any flesh. +

+

+ And so it was with White Fang. The man-animals were gods unmistakable + and unescapable. As his mother, Kiche, had rendered her allegiance to + them at the first cry of her name, so he was beginning to render his + allegiance. He gave them the trail as a privilege indubitably theirs. + When they walked, he got out of their way. When they called, he came. + When they threatened, he cowered down. When they commanded him to go, + he went away hurriedly. For behind any wish of theirs was power to + enforce that wish, power that hurt, power that expressed itself in + clouts and clubs, in flying stones and stinging lashes of whips. +

+

+ He belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. His actions were + theirs to command. His body was theirs to maul, to stamp upon, to + tolerate. Such was the lesson that was quickly borne in upon him. It + came hard, going as it did, counter to much that was strong and + dominant in his own nature; and, while he disliked it in the learning + of it, unknown to himself he was learning to like it. It was a placing + of his destiny in another’s hands, a shifting of the responsibilities + of existence. This in itself was compensation, for it is always easier + to lean upon another than to stand alone. +

+

+ But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, body + and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego his wild + heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days when he crept + to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something calling + him far and away. And always he returned, restless and uncomfortable, + to whimper softly and wistfully at Kiche’s side and to lick her face + with eager, questioning tongue. +

+

+ White Fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp. He knew the injustice + and greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was thrown out to + be eaten. He came to know that men were more just, children more + cruel, and women more kindly and more likely to toss him a bit of meat + or bone. And after two or three painful adventures with the mothers of + part-grown puppies, he came into the knowledge that it was always good + policy to let such mothers alone, to keep away from them as far as + possible, and to avoid them when he saw them coming. +

+

+ But the bane of his life was Lip-lip. Larger, older, and stronger, + Lip-lip had selected White Fang for his special object of persecution. + White Fang fought willingly enough, but he was outclassed. His enemy + was too big. Lip-lip became a nightmare to him. Whenever he ventured + away from his mother, the bully was sure to appear, trailing at his + heels, snarling at him, picking upon him, and watchful of an + opportunity, when no man-animal was near, to spring upon him and force + a fight. As Lip-lip invariably won, he enjoyed it hugely. It became + his chief delight in life, as it became White Fang’s chief torment. +

+

+ But the effect upon White Fang was not to cow him. Though he suffered + most of the damage and was always defeated, his spirit remained + unsubdued. Yet a bad effect was produced. He became malignant and + morose. His temper had been savage by birth, but it became more savage + under this unending persecution. The genial, playful, puppyish side of + him found little expression. He never played and gambolled about with + the other puppies of the camp. Lip-lip would not permit it. The moment + White Fang appeared near them, Lip-lip was upon him, bullying and + hectoring him, or fighting with him until he had driven him away. +

+

+ The effect of all this was to rob White Fang of much of his puppyhood + and to make him in his comportment older than his age. Denied the + outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and + developed his mental processes. He became cunning; he had idle time in + which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. Prevented from + obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general feed was given to + the camp-dogs, he became a clever thief. He had to forage for himself, + and he foraged well, though he was oft-times a plague to the squaws in + consequence. He learned to sneak about camp, to be crafty, to know + what was going on everywhere, to see and to hear everything and to + reason accordingly, and successfully to devise ways and means of + avoiding his implacable persecutor. +

+

+ It was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first + really big crafty game and got there from his first taste of revenge. + As Kiche, when with the wolves, had lured out to destruction dogs from + the camps of men, so White Fang, in manner somewhat similar, lured + Lip-lip into Kiche’s avenging jaws. Retreating before Lip-lip, White + Fang made an indirect flight that led in and out and around the + various tepees of the camp. He was a good runner, swifter than any + puppy of his size, and swifter than Lip-lip. But he did not run his + best in this chase. He barely held his own, one leap ahead of his + pursuer. +

+

+ Lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his + victim, forgot caution and locality. When he remembered locality, it + was too late. Dashing at top speed around a tepee, he ran full tilt + into Kiche lying at the end of her stick. He gave one yelp of + consternation, and then her punishing jaws closed upon him. She was + tied, but he could not get away from her easily. She rolled him off + his legs so that he could not run, while she repeatedly ripped and + slashed him with her fangs. +

+

+ When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to his + feet, badly dishevelled, hurt both in body and in spirit. His hair was + standing out all over him in tufts where her teeth had mauled. He + stood where he had arisen, opened his mouth, and broke out the long, + heart-broken puppy wail. But even this he was not allowed to complete. + In the middle of it, White Fang, rushing in, sank his teeth into + Lip-lip’s hind leg. There was no fight left in Lip-lip, and he ran + away shamelessly, his victim hot on his heels and worrying him all the + way back to his own tepee. Here the squaws came to his aid, and White + Fang, transformed into a raging demon, was finally driven off only by + a fusillade of stones. +

+

+ Came the day when Grey Beaver, deciding that the liability of her + running away was past, released Kiche. White Fang was delighted with + his mother’s freedom. He accompanied her joyfully about the camp; and, + so long as he remained close by her side, Lip-lip kept a respectful + distance. White-Fang even bristled up to him and walked stiff-legged, + but Lip-lip ignored the challenge. He was no fool himself, and + whatever vengeance he desired to wreak, he could wait until he caught + White Fang alone. +

+

+ Later on that day, Kiche and White Fang strayed into the edge of the + woods next to the camp. He had led his mother there, step by step, and + now when she stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. The stream, + the lair, and the quiet woods were calling to him, and he wanted her + to come. He ran on a few steps, stopped, and looked back. She had not + moved. He whined pleadingly, and scurried playfully in and out of the + underbrush. He ran back to her, licked her face, and ran on again. And + still she did not move. He stopped and regarded her, all of an + intentness and eagerness, physically expressed, that slowly faded out + of him as she turned her head and gazed back at the camp. +

+

+ There was something calling to him out there in the open. His mother + heard it too. But she heard also that other and louder call, the call + of the fire and of man—the call which has been given alone of all + animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf and the wild-dog, who are + brothers. +

+

+ Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. Stronger than the + physical restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp upon her. + Unseen and occultly, the gods still gripped with their power and would + not let her go. White Fang sat down in the shadow of a birch and + whimpered softly. There was a strong smell of pine, and subtle wood + fragrances filled the air, reminding him of his old life of freedom + before the days of his bondage. But he was still only a part-grown + puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or of the Wild was the + call of his mother. All the hours of his short life he had depended + upon her. The time was yet to come for independence. So he arose and + trotted forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and twice, to sit down + and whimper and to listen to the call that still sounded in the depths + of the forest. +

+

+ In the Wild the time of a mother with her young is short; but under + the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. Thus it was with + White Fang. Grey Beaver was in the debt of Three Eagles. Three Eagles + was going away on a trip up the Mackenzie to the Great Slave Lake. A + strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty cartridges, and Kiche, went + to pay the debt. White Fang saw his mother taken aboard Three Eagles’ + canoe, and tried to follow her. A blow from Three Eagles knocked him + backward to the land. The canoe shoved off. He sprang into the water + and swam after it, deaf to the sharp cries of Grey Beaver to return. + Even a man-animal, a god, White Fang ignored, such was the terror he + was in of losing his mother. +

+

+ But gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and Grey Beaver wrathfully + launched a canoe in pursuit. When he overtook White Fang, he reached + down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear of the water. He did + not deposit him at once in the bottom of the canoe. Holding him + suspended with one hand, with the other hand he proceeded to give him + a beating. And it was a beating. His hand was heavy. Every + blow was shrewd to hurt; and he delivered a multitude of blows. +

+

+ Impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side, now + from that, White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky + pendulum. Varying were the emotions that surged through him. At first, + he had known surprise. Then came a momentary fear, when he yelped + several times to the impact of the hand. But this was quickly followed + by anger. His free nature asserted itself, and he showed his teeth and + snarled fearlessly in the face of the wrathful god. This but served to + make the god more wrathful. The blows came faster, heavier, more + shrewd to hurt. +

+

+ Grey Beaver continued to beat, White Fang continued to snarl. But this + could not last for ever. One or the other must give over, and that one + was White Fang. Fear surged through him again. For the first time he + was being really man-handled. The occasional blows of sticks and + stones he had previously experienced were as caresses compared with + this. He broke down and began to cry and yelp. For a time each blow + brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into terror, until finally + his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession, unconnected with the + rhythm of the punishment. +

+

+ At last Grey Beaver withheld his hand. White Fang, hanging limply, + continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who flung him + down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. In the meantime the canoe had + drifted down the stream. Grey Beaver picked up the paddle. White Fang + was in his way. He spurned him savagely with his foot. In that moment + White Fang’s free nature flashed forth again, and he sank his teeth + into the moccasined foot. +

+

+ The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the + beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; likewise + was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but the hard wooden paddle + was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore in all his small body + when he was again flung down in the canoe. Again, and this time with + purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White Fang did not repeat his + attack on the foot. He had learned another lesson of his bondage. + Never, no matter what the circumstance, must he dare to bite the god + who was lord and master over him; the body of the lord and master was + sacred, not to be defiled by the teeth of such as he. That was + evidently the crime of crimes, the one offence there was no condoning + nor overlooking. +

+

+ When the canoe touched the shore, White Fang lay whimpering and + motionless, waiting the will of Grey Beaver. It was Grey Beaver’s will + that he should go ashore, for ashore he was flung, striking heavily on + his side and hurting his bruises afresh. He crawled tremblingly to his + feet and stood whimpering. Lip-lip, who had watched the whole + proceeding from the bank, now rushed upon him, knocking him over and + sinking his teeth into him. White Fang was too helpless to defend + himself, and it would have gone hard with him had not Grey Beaver’s + foot shot out, lifting Lip-lip into the air with its violence so that + he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. This was the man-animal’s + justice; and even then, in his own pitiable plight, White Fang + experienced a little grateful thrill. At Grey Beaver’s heels he limped + obediently through the village to the tepee. And so it came that White + Fang learned that the right to punish was something the gods reserved + for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under them. +

+

+ That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother and + sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey Beaver, who + beat him. After that he mourned gently when the gods were around. But + sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods by himself, he gave + vent to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings and + wailings. +

+

+ It was during this period that he might have harkened to the memories + of the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild. But the memory of + his mother held him. As the hunting man-animals went out and came + back, so she would come back to the village some time. So he remained + in his bondage waiting for her. +

+

+ But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage. There was much to + interest him. Something was always happening. There was no end to the + strange things these gods did, and he was always curious to see. + Besides, he was learning how to get along with Grey Beaver. Obedience, + rigid, undeviating obedience, was what was exacted of him; and in + return he escaped beatings and his existence was tolerated. +

+

+ Nay, Grey Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat, and + defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it. And such a + piece of meat was of value. It was worth more, in some strange way, + then a dozen pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw. Grey Beaver + never petted nor caressed. Perhaps it was the weight of his hand, + perhaps his justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps it + was all these things that influenced White Fang; for a certain tie of + attachment was forming between him and his surly lord. +

+

+ Insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick and + stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of White Fang’s bondage + being riveted upon him. The qualities in his kind that in the + beginning made it possible for them to come in to the fires of men, + were qualities capable of development. They were developing in him, + and the camp-life, replete with misery as it was, was secretly + endearing itself to him all the time. But White Fang was unaware of + it. He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche, hope for her return, and + a hungry yearning for the free life that had been his. +

+
+
+

The Outcast

+

+ Lip-lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became + wickeder and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. + Savageness was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus + developed exceeded his make-up. He acquired a reputation for + wickedness amongst the man-animals themselves. Wherever there was + trouble and uproar in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a + squaw over a bit of stolen meat, they were sure to find White Fang + mixed up in it and usually at the bottom of it. They did not bother to + look after the causes of his conduct. They saw only the effects, and + the effects were bad. He was a sneak and a thief, a mischief-maker, a + fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to his face, the while + he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick-flung missile, that he + was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end. +

+

+ He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp. All the + young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. There was a difference between + White Fang and them. Perhaps they sensed his wild-wood breed, and + instinctively felt for him the enmity that the domestic dog feels for + the wolf. But be that as it may, they joined with Lip-lip in the + persecution. And, once declared against him, they found good reason to + continue declared against him. One and all, from time to time, they + felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave more than he received. Many + of them he could whip in single fight; but single fight was denied + him. The beginning of such a fight was a signal for all the young dogs + in camp to come running and pitch upon him. +

+

+ Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how to + take care of himself in a mass-fight against him—and how, on a single + dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest space of + time. To keep one’s feet in the midst of the hostile mass meant life, + and this he learnt well. He became cat-like in his ability to stay on + his feet. Even grown dogs might hurtle him backward or sideways with + the impact of their heavy bodies; and backward or sideways he would + go, in the air or sliding on the ground, but always with his legs + under him and his feet downward to the mother earth. +

+

+ When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual + combat—snarlings and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But White + Fang learned to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the coming + against him of all the young dogs. He must do his work quickly and get + away. So he learnt to give no warning of his intention. He rushed in + and snapped and slashed on the instant, without notice, before his foe + could prepare to meet him. Thus he learned how to inflict quick and + severe damage. Also he learned the value of surprise. A dog, taken off + its guard, its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped in ribbons + before it knew what was happening, was a dog half whipped. +

+

+ Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by + surprise; while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a + moment the soft underside of its neck—the vulnerable point at which to + strike for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was a knowledge + bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of wolves. So + it was that White Fang’s method when he took the offensive, was: first + to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise it and knock it off its + feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat. +

+

+ Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor + strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog + went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White Fang’s + intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the edge + of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and attacking + the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. There was a + great row that night. He had been observed, the news had been carried + to the dead dog’s master, the squaws remembered all the instances of + stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was beset by many angry voices. But he + resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which he had placed the + culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for which his + tribespeople clamoured. +

+

+ White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period of his + development he never knew a moment’s security. The tooth of every dog + was against him, the hand of every man. He was greeted with snarls by + his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. He lived tensely. He was + always keyed up, alert for attack, wary of being attacked, with an eye + for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared to act precipitately and + coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, or to leap away with a + menacing snarl. +

+

+ As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young or + old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, and + judgment is required to know when it should be used. White Fang knew + how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he incorporated all + that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With nose serrulated by + continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves, tongue whipping + out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears flattened down, + eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and + dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant. + A temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him the vital moment + in which to think and determine his action. But often a pause so + gained lengthened out until it evolved into a complete cessation from + the attack. And before more than one of the grown dogs White Fang’s + snarl enabled him to beat an honourable retreat. +

+

+ An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his + sanguinary methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its + persecution of him. Not permitted himself to run with the pack, the + curious state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack could run + outside the pack. White Fang would not permit it. What of his + bushwhacking and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run + by themselves. With the exception of Lip-lip, they were compelled to + hunch together for mutual protection against the terrible enemy they + had made. A puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a + puppy that aroused the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled + back from the wolf-cub that had waylaid it. +

+

+ But White Fang’s reprisals did not cease, even when the young dogs had + learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked them when + he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were bunched. + The sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing after him, at + which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety. But woe the + dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! White Fang had learned to + turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of the pack and + thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive. This occurred + with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs were prone to + forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while White Fang + never forgot himself. Stealing backward glances as he ran, he was + always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous pursuer that + outran his fellows. +

+

+ Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the + situation they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it was + that the hunt of White Fang became their chief game—a deadly game, + withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other hand, being + the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. During the + period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, he led the + pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. But the pack + invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him of its presence, + while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a moving shadow among the + trees after the manner of his father and mother before him. Further he + was more directly connected with the Wild than they; and he knew more + of its secrets and stratagems. A favourite trick of his was to lose + his trail in running water and then lie quietly in a near-by thicket + while their baffled cries arose around him. +

+

+ Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred upon + and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and + one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom + in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. The code he + learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak. Grey Beaver + was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed him. But the dog + younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing to be destroyed. His + development was in the direction of power. In order to face the + constant danger of hurt and even of destruction, his predatory and + protective faculties were unduly developed. He became quicker of + movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, + more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, + more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent. He had to become all + these things, else he would not have held his own nor survive the + hostile environment in which he found himself. +

+
+
+

The Trail of the Gods

+

+ In the fall of the year, when the days were shortening and the bite of + the frost was coming into the air, White Fang got his chance for + liberty. For several days there had been a great hubbub in the + village. The summer camp was being dismantled, and the tribe, bag and + baggage, was preparing to go off to the fall hunting. White Fang + watched it all with eager eyes, and when the tepees began to come down + and the canoes were loading at the bank, he understood. Already the + canoes were departing, and some had disappeared down the river. +

+

+ Quite deliberately he determined to stay behind. He waited his + opportunity to slink out of camp to the woods. Here, in the running + stream where ice was beginning to form, he hid his trail. Then he + crawled into the heart of a dense thicket and waited. The time passed + by, and he slept intermittently for hours. Then he was aroused by Grey + Beaver’s voice calling him by name. There were other voices. White + Fang could hear Grey Beaver’s squaw taking part in the search, and + Mit-sah, who was Grey Beaver’s son. +

+

+ White Fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl + out of his hiding-place, he resisted it. After a time the voices died + away, and some time after that he crept out to enjoy the success of + his undertaking. Darkness was coming on, and for a while he played + about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. Then, and quite + suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. He sat down to consider, + listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by it. That + nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. He felt the lurking of + danger, unseen and unguessed. He was suspicious of the looming bulks + of the trees and of the dark shadows that might conceal all manner of + perilous things. +

+

+ Then it was cold. Here was no warm side of a tepee against which to + snuggle. The frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting first one + fore-foot and then the other. He curved his bushy tail around to cover + them, and at the same time he saw a vision. There was nothing strange + about it. Upon his inward sight was impressed a succession of + memory-pictures. He saw the camp again, the tepees, and the blaze of + the fires. He heard the shrill voices of the women, the gruff basses + of the men, and the snarling of the dogs. He was hungry, and he + remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been thrown him. Here was + no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible silence. +

+

+ His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened him. He + had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night yawned about him. + His senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle of the camp, used to the + continuous impact of sights and sounds, were now left idle. There was + nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear. They strained to catch some + interruption of the silence and immobility of nature. They were + appalled by inaction and by the feel of something terrible impending. +

+

+ He gave a great start of fright. A colossal and formless something was + rushing across the field of his vision. It was a tree-shadow flung by + the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away. Reassured, + he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for fear that it + might attract the attention of the lurking dangers. +

+

+ A tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise. It + was directly above him. He yelped in his fright. A panic seized him, + and he ran madly toward the village. He knew an overpowering desire + for the protection and companionship of man. In his nostrils was the + smell of the camp-smoke. In his ears the camp-sounds and cries were + ringing loud. He passed out of the forest and into the moonlit open + where were no shadows nor darknesses. But no village greeted his eyes. + He had forgotten. The village had gone away. +

+

+ His wild flight ceased abruptly. There was no place to which to flee. + He slunk forlornly through the deserted camp, smelling the + rubbish-heaps and the discarded rags and tags of the gods. He would + have been glad for the rattle of stones about him, flung by an angry + squaw, glad for the hand of Grey Beaver descending upon him in wrath; + while he would have welcomed with delight Lip-lip and the whole + snarling, cowardly pack. +

+

+ He came to where Grey Beaver’s tepee had stood. In the centre of the + space it had occupied, he sat down. He pointed his nose at the moon. + His throat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his mouth opened, and in a + heart-broken cry bubbled up his loneliness and fear, his grief for + Kiche, all his past sorrows and miseries as well as his apprehension + of sufferings and dangers to come. It was the long wolf-howl, + full-throated and mournful, the first howl he had ever uttered. +

+

+ The coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his + loneliness. The naked earth, which so shortly before had been so + populous; thrust his loneliness more forcibly upon him. It did not + take him long to make up his mind. He plunged into the forest and + followed the river bank down the stream. All day he ran. He did not + rest. He seemed made to run on for ever. His iron-like body ignored + fatigue. And even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance braced + him to endless endeavour and enabled him to drive his complaining body + onward. +

+

+ Where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs, he climbed the + high mountains behind. Rivers and streams that entered the main river + he forded or swam. Often he took to the rim-ice that was beginning to + form, and more than once he crashed through and struggled for life in + the icy current. Always he was on the lookout for the trail of the + gods where it might leave the river and proceed inland. +

+

+ White Fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind; yet his + mental vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the + Mackenzie. What if the trail of the gods led out on that side? It + never entered his head. Later on, when he had travelled more and grown + older and wiser and come to know more of trails and rivers, it might + be that he could grasp and apprehend such a possibility. But that + mental power was yet in the future. Just now he ran blindly, his own + bank of the Mackenzie alone entering into his calculations. +

+

+ All night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and + obstacles that delayed but did not daunt. By the middle of the second + day he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and the iron of + his flesh was giving out. It was the endurance of his mind that kept + him going. He had not eaten in forty hours, and he was weak with + hunger. The repeated drenchings in the icy water had likewise had + their effect on him. His handsome coat was draggled. The broad pads of + his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had begun to limp, and this + limp increased with the hours. To make it worse, the light of the sky + was obscured and snow began to fall—a raw, moist, melting, clinging + snow, slippery under foot, that hid from him the landscape he + traversed, and that covered over the inequalities of the ground so + that the way of his feet was more difficult and painful. +

+

+ Grey Beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the + Mackenzie, for it was in that direction that the hunting lay. But on + the near bank, shortly before dark, a moose coming down to drink, had + been espied by Kloo-kooch, who was Grey Beaver’s squaw. Now, had not + the moose come down to drink, had not Mit-sah been steering out of the + course because of the snow, had not Kloo-kooch sighted the moose, and + had not Grey Beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his rifle, all + subsequent things would have happened differently. Grey Beaver would + not have camped on the near side of the Mackenzie, and White Fang + would have passed by and gone on, either to die or to find his way to + his wild brothers and become one of them—a wolf to the end of his + days. +

+

+ Night had fallen. The snow was flying more thickly, and White Fang, + whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along, came + upon a fresh trail in the snow. So fresh was it that he knew it + immediately for what it was. Whining with eagerness, he followed back + from the river bank and in among the trees. The camp-sounds came to + his ears. He saw the blaze of the fire, Kloo-kooch cooking, and Grey + Beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk of raw tallow. There + was fresh meat in camp! +

+

+ White Fang expected a beating. He crouched and bristled a little at + the thought of it. Then he went forward again. He feared and disliked + the beating he knew to be waiting for him. But he knew, further, that + the comfort of the fire would be his, the protection of the gods, the + companionship of the dogs—the last, a companionship of enmity, but + none the less a companionship and satisfying to his gregarious needs. +

+

+ He came cringing and crawling into the firelight. Grey Beaver saw him, + and stopped munching the tallow. White Fang crawled slowly, cringing + and grovelling in the abjectness of his abasement and submission. He + crawled straight toward Grey Beaver, every inch of his progress + becoming slower and more painful. At last he lay at the master’s feet, + into whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, body + and soul. Of his own choice, he came in to sit by man’s fire and to be + ruled by him. White Fang trembled, waiting for the punishment to fall + upon him. There was a movement of the hand above him. He cringed + involuntarily under the expected blow. It did not fall. He stole a + glance upward. Grey Beaver was breaking the lump of tallow in half! + Grey Beaver was offering him one piece of the tallow! Very gently and + somewhat suspiciously, he first smelled the tallow and then proceeded + to eat it. Grey Beaver ordered meat to be brought to him, and guarded + him from the other dogs while he ate. After that, grateful and + content, White Fang lay at Grey Beaver’s feet, gazing at the fire that + warmed him, blinking and dozing, secure in the knowledge that the + morrow would find him, not wandering forlorn through bleak + forest-stretches, but in the camp of the man-animals, with the gods to + whom he had given himself and upon whom he was now dependent. +

+
+
+

The Covenant

+

+ When December was well along, Grey Beaver went on a journey up the + Mackenzie. Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch went with him. One sled he drove + himself, drawn by dogs he had traded for or borrowed. A second and + smaller sled was driven by Mit-sah, and to this was harnessed a team + of puppies. It was more of a toy affair than anything else, yet it was + the delight of Mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to do a man’s + work in the world. Also, he was learning to drive dogs and to train + dogs; while the puppies themselves were being broken in to the + harness. Furthermore, the sled was of some service, for it carried + nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and food. +

+

+ White Fang had seen the camp-dogs toiling in the harness, so that he + did not resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon himself. + About his neck was put a moss-stuffed collar, which was connected by + two pulling-traces to a strap that passed around his chest and over + his back. It was to this that was fastened the long rope by which he + pulled at the sled. +

+

+ There were seven puppies in the team. The others had been born earlier + in the year and were nine and ten months old, while White Fang was + only eight months old. Each dog was fastened to the sled by a single + rope. No two ropes were of the same length, while the difference in + length between any two ropes was at least that of a dog’s body. Every + rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the sled. The sled + itself was without runners, being a birch-bark toboggan, with upturned + forward end to keep it from ploughing under the snow. This + construction enabled the weight of the sled and load to be distributed + over the largest snow-surface; for the snow was crystal-powder and + very soft. Observing the same principle of widest distribution of + weight, the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated fan-fashion from + the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in another’s footsteps. +

+

+ There was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation. The ropes + of varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear those + that ran in front of them. For a dog to attack another, it would have + to turn upon one at a shorter rope. In which case it would find itself + face to face with the dog attacked, and also it would find itself + facing the whip of the driver. But the most peculiar virtue of all lay + in the fact that the dog that strove to attack one in front of him + must pull the sled faster, and that the faster the sled travelled, the + faster could the dog attacked run away. Thus, the dog behind could + never catch up with the one in front. The faster he ran, the faster + ran the one he was after, and the faster ran all the dogs. + Incidentally, the sled went faster, and thus, by cunning indirection, + did man increase his mastery over the beasts. +

+

+ Mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he possessed. + In the past he had observed Lip-lip’s persecution of White Fang; but + at that time Lip-lip was another man’s dog, and Mit-sah had never + dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him. But now Lip-lip was + his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance on him by putting him + at the end of the longest rope. This made Lip-lip the leader, and was + apparently an honour! but in reality it took away from him all honour, + and instead of being bully and master of the pack, he now found + himself hated and persecuted by the pack. +

+

+ Because he ran at the end of the longest rope, the dogs had always the + view of him running away before them. All that they saw of him was his + bushy tail and fleeing hind legs—a view far less ferocious and + intimidating than his bristling mane and gleaming fangs. Also, dogs + being so constituted in their mental ways, the sight of him running + away gave desire to run after him and a feeling that he ran away from + them. +

+

+ The moment the sled started, the team took after Lip-lip in a chase + that extended throughout the day. At first he had been prone to turn + upon his pursuers, jealous of his dignity and wrathful; but at such + times Mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot + cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run on. + Lip-lip might face the pack, but he could not face that whip, and all + that was left him to do was to keep his long rope taut and his flanks + ahead of the teeth of his mates. +

+

+ But a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the Indian mind. + To give point to unending pursuit of the leader, Mit-sah favoured him + over the other dogs. These favours aroused in them jealousy and + hatred. In their presence Mit-sah would give him meat and would give + it to him only. This was maddening to them. They would rage around + just outside the throwing-distance of the whip, while Lip-lip devoured + the meat and Mit-sah protected him. And when there was no meat to + give, Mit-sah would keep the team at a distance and make believe to + give meat to Lip-lip. +

+

+ White Fang took kindly to the work. He had travelled a greater + distance than the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule of + the gods, and he had learned more thoroughly the futility of opposing + their will. In addition, the persecution he had suffered from the pack + had made the pack less to him in the scheme of things, and man more. + He had not learned to be dependent on his kind for companionship. + Besides, Kiche was well-nigh forgotten; and the chief outlet of + expression that remained to him was in the allegiance he tendered the + gods he had accepted as masters. So he worked hard, learned + discipline, and was obedient. Faithfulness and willingness + characterised his toil. These are essential traits of the wolf and the + wild-dog when they have become domesticated, and these traits White + Fang possessed in unusual measure. +

+

+ A companionship did exist between White Fang and the other dogs, but + it was one of warfare and enmity. He had never learned to play with + them. He knew only how to fight, and fight with them he did, returning + to them a hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they had given him in the + days when Lip-lip was leader of the pack. But Lip-lip was no longer + leader—except when he fled away before his mates at the end of his + rope, the sled bounding along behind. In camp he kept close to Mit-sah + or Grey Beaver or Kloo-kooch. He did not dare venture away from the + gods, for now the fangs of all dogs were against him, and he tasted to + the dregs the persecution that had been White Fang’s. +

+

+ With the overthrow of Lip-lip, White Fang could have become leader of + the pack. But he was too morose and solitary for that. He merely + thrashed his team-mates. Otherwise he ignored them. They got out of + his way when he came along; nor did the boldest of them ever dare to + rob him of his meat. On the contrary, they devoured their own meat + hurriedly, for fear that he would take it away from them. White Fang + knew the law well: to oppress the weak and obey the strong. + He ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could. And then woe the dog + that had not yet finished! A snarl and a flash of fangs, and that dog + would wail his indignation to the uncomforting stars while White Fang + finished his portion for him. +

+

+ Every little while, however, one dog or another would flame up in + revolt and be promptly subdued. Thus White Fang was kept in training. + He was jealous of the isolation in which he kept himself in the midst + of the pack, and he fought often to maintain it. But such fights were + of brief duration. He was too quick for the others. They were slashed + open and bleeding before they knew what had happened, were whipped + almost before they had begun to fight. +

+

+ As rigid as the sled-discipline of the gods, was the discipline + maintained by White Fang amongst his fellows. He never allowed them + any latitude. He compelled them to an unremitting respect for him. + They might do as they pleased amongst themselves. That was no concern + of his. But it was his concern that they leave him alone in + his isolation, get out of his way when he elected to walk among them, + and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them. A hint of + stiff-leggedness on their part, a lifted lip or a bristle of hair, and + he would be upon them, merciless and cruel, swiftly convincing them of + the error of their way. +

+

+ He was a monstrous tyrant. His mastery was rigid as steel. He + oppressed the weak with a vengeance. Not for nothing had he been + exposed to the pitiless struggles for life in the day of his cubhood, + when his mother and he, alone and unaided, held their own and survived + in the ferocious environment of the Wild. And not for nothing had he + learned to walk softly when superior strength went by. He oppressed + the weak, but he respected the strong. And in the course of the long + journey with Grey Beaver he walked softly indeed amongst the + full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals they + encountered. +

+

+ The months passed by. Still continued the journey of Grey Beaver. + White Fang’s strength was developed by the long hours on trail and the + steady toil at the sled; and it would have seemed that his mental + development was well-nigh complete. He had come to know quite + thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak and + materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a + world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and the + bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist. +

+

+ He had no affection for Grey Beaver. True, he was a god, but a most + savage god. White Fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship, but it + was a lordship based upon superior intelligence and brute strength. + There was something in the fibre of White Fang’s being that made his + lordship a thing to be desired, else he would not have come back from + the Wild when he did to tender his allegiance. There were deeps in his + nature which had never been sounded. A kind word, a caressing touch of + the hand, on the part of Grey Beaver, might have sounded these deeps; + but Grey Beaver did not caress, nor speak kind words. It was not his + way. His primacy was savage, and savagely he ruled, administering + justice with a club, punishing transgression with the pain of a blow, + and rewarding merit, not by kindness, but by withholding a blow. +

+

+ So White Fang knew nothing of the heaven a man’s hand might contain + for him. Besides, he did not like the hands of the man-animals. He was + suspicious of them. It was true that they sometimes gave meat, but + more often they gave hurt. Hands were things to keep away from. They + hurled stones, wielded sticks and clubs and whips, administered slaps + and clouts, and, when they touched him, were cunning to hurt with + pinch and twist and wrench. In strange villages he had encountered the + hands of the children and learned that they were cruel to hurt. Also, + he had once nearly had an eye poked out by a toddling papoose. From + these experiences he became suspicious of all children. He could not + tolerate them. When they came near with their ominous hands, he got + up. +

+

+ It was in a village at the Great Slave Lake, that, in the course of + resenting the evil of the hands of the man-animals, he came to modify + the law that he had learned from Grey Beaver: namely, that the + unpardonable crime was to bite one of the gods. In this village, after + the custom of all dogs in all villages, White Fang went foraging, for + food. A boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the chips + were flying in the snow. White Fang, sliding by in quest of meat, + stopped and began to eat the chips. He observed the boy lay down the + axe and take up a stout club. White Fang sprang clear, just in time to + escape the descending blow. The boy pursued him, and he, a stranger in + the village, fled between two tepees to find himself cornered against + a high earth bank. +

+

+ There was no escape for White Fang. The only way out was between the + two tepees, and this the boy guarded. Holding his club prepared to + strike, he drew in on his cornered quarry. White Fang was furious. He + faced the boy, bristling and snarling, his sense of justice outraged. + He knew the law of forage. All the wastage of meat, such as the frozen + chips, belonged to the dog that found it. He had done no wrong, broken + no law, yet here was this boy preparing to give him a beating. White + Fang scarcely knew what happened. He did it in a surge of rage. And he + did it so quickly that the boy did not know either. All the boy knew + was that he had in some unaccountable way been overturned into the + snow, and that his club-hand had been ripped wide open by White Fang’s + teeth. +

+

+ But White Fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods. He had + driven his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them, and could + expect nothing but a most terrible punishment. He fled away to Grey + Beaver, behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten boy + and the boy’s family came, demanding vengeance. But they went away + with vengeance unsatisfied. Grey Beaver defended White Fang. So did + Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch. White Fang, listening to the wordy war and + watching the angry gestures, knew that his act was justified. And so + it came that he learned there were gods and gods. There were his gods, + and there were other gods, and between them there was a difference. + Justice or injustice, it was all the same, he must take all things + from the hands of his own gods. But he was not compelled to take + injustice from the other gods. It was his privilege to resent it with + his teeth. And this also was a law of the gods. +

+

+ Before the day was out, White Fang was to learn more about this law. + Mit-sah, alone, gathering firewood in the forest, encountered the boy + that had been bitten. With him were other boys. Hot words passed. Then + all the boys attacked Mit-sah. It was going hard with him. Blows were + raining upon him from all sides. White Fang looked on at first. This + was an affair of the gods, and no concern of his. Then he realised + that this was Mit-sah, one of his own particular gods, who was being + maltreated. It was no reasoned impulse that made White Fang do what he + then did. A mad rush of anger sent him leaping in amongst the + combatants. Five minutes later the landscape was covered with fleeing + boys, many of whom dripped blood upon the snow in token that White + Fang’s teeth had not been idle. When Mit-sah told the story in camp, + Grey Beaver ordered meat to be given to White Fang. He ordered much + meat to be given, and White Fang, gorged and sleepy by the fire, knew + that the law had received its verification. +

+

+ It was in line with these experiences that White Fang came to learn + the law of property and the duty of the defence of property. From the + protection of his god’s body to the protection of his god’s + possessions was a step, and this step he made. What was his god’s was + to be defended against all the world—even to the extent of biting + other gods. Not only was such an act sacrilegious in its nature, but + it was fraught with peril. The gods were all-powerful, and a dog was + no match against them; yet White Fang learned to face them, fiercely + belligerent and unafraid. Duty rose above fear, and thieving gods + learned to leave Grey Beaver’s property alone. +

+

+ One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt, and that was + that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run away + at the sounding of the alarm. Also, he learned that but brief time + elapsed between his sounding of the alarm and Grey Beaver coming to + his aid. He came to know that it was not fear of him that drove the + thief away, but fear of Grey Beaver. White Fang did not give the alarm + by barking. He never barked. His method was to drive straight at the + intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he could. Because he was morose + and solitary, having nothing to do with the other dogs, he was + unusually fitted to guard his master’s property; and in this he was + encouraged and trained by Grey Beaver. One result of this was to make + White Fang more ferocious and indomitable, and more solitary. +

+

+ The months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant between + dog and man. This was the ancient covenant that the first wolf that + came in from the Wild entered into with man. And, like all succeeding + wolves and wild dogs that had done likewise, White Fang worked the + covenant out for himself. The terms were simple. For the possession of + a flesh-and-blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. Food and fire, + protection and companionship, were some of the things he received from + the god. In return, he guarded the god’s property, defended his body, + worked for him, and obeyed him. +

+

+ The possession of a god implies service. White Fang’s was a service of + duty and awe, but not of love. He did not know what love was. He had + no experience of love. Kiche was a remote memory. Besides, not only + had he abandoned the Wild and his kind when he gave himself up to man, + but the terms of the covenant were such that if ever he met Kiche + again he would not desert his god to go with her. His allegiance to + man seemed somehow a law of his being greater than the love of + liberty, of kind and kin. +

+
+
+

The Famine

+

+ The spring of the year was at hand when Grey Beaver finished his long + journey. It was April, and White Fang was a year old when he pulled + into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by Mit-sah. + Though a long way from his full growth, White Fang, next to Lip-lip, + was the largest yearling in the village. Both from his father, the + wolf, and from Kiche, he had inherited stature and strength, and + already he was measuring up alongside the full-grown dogs. But he had + not yet grown compact. His body was slender and rangy, and his + strength more stringy than massive, His coat was the true wolf-grey, + and to all appearances he was true wolf himself. The quarter-strain of + dog he had inherited from Kiche had left no mark on him physically, + though it had played its part in his mental make-up. +

+

+ He wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfaction + the various gods he had known before the long journey. Then there were + the dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that did not + look so large and formidable as the memory pictures he retained of + them. Also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, stalking + among them with a certain careless ease that was as new to him as it + was enjoyable. +

+

+ There was Baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days had + but to uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching to + the right about. From him White Fang had learned much of his own + insignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change + and development that had taken place in himself. While Baseek had been + growing weaker with age, White Fang had been growing stronger with + youth. +

+

+ It was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that White Fang + learned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog-world. + He had got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which + quite a bit of meat was attached. Withdrawn from the immediate + scramble of the other dogs—in fact out of sight behind a thicket—he + was devouring his prize, when Baseek rushed in upon him. Before he + knew what he was doing, he had slashed the intruder twice and sprung + clear. Baseek was surprised by the other’s temerity and swiftness of + attack. He stood, gazing stupidly across at White Fang, the raw, red + shin-bone between them. +

+

+ Baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasing valour + of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. Bitter experiences these, + which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to cope + with them. In the old days he would have sprung upon White Fang in a + fury of righteous wrath. But now his waning powers would not permit + such a course. He bristled fiercely and looked ominously across the + shin-bone at White Fang. And White Fang, resurrecting quite a deal of + the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself and grow + small, as he cast about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat not + too inglorious. +

+

+ And right here Baseek erred. Had he contented himself with looking + fierce and ominous, all would have been well. White Fang, on the verge + of retreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. But Baseek + did not wait. He considered the victory already his and stepped + forward to the meat. As he bent his head carelessly to smell it, White + Fang bristled slightly. Even then it was not too late for Baseek to + retrieve the situation. Had he merely stood over the meat, head up and + glowering, White Fang would ultimately have slunk away. But the fresh + meat was strong in Baseek’s nostrils, and greed urged him to take a + bite of it. +

+

+ This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of mastery + over his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand idly + by while another devoured the meat that belonged to him. He struck, + after his custom, without warning. With the first slash, Baseek’s + right ear was ripped into ribbons. He was astounded at the suddenness + of it. But more things, and most grievous ones, were happening with + equal suddenness. He was knocked off his feet. His throat was bitten. + While he was struggling to his feet the young dog sank teeth twice + into his shoulder. The swiftness of it was bewildering. He made a + futile rush at White Fang, clipping the empty air with an outraged + snap. The next moment his nose was laid open, and he was staggering + backward away from the meat. +

+

+ The situation was now reversed. White Fang stood over the shin-bone, + bristling and menacing, while Baseek stood a little way off, preparing + to retreat. He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning-flash, + and again he knew, and more bitterly, the enfeeblement of oncoming + age. His attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic. Calmly turning + his back upon young dog and shin-bone, as though both were beneath his + notice and unworthy of his consideration, he stalked grandly away. + Nor, until well out of sight, did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds. +

+

+ The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself, + and a greater pride. He walked less softly among the grown dogs; his + attitude toward them was less compromising. Not that he went out of + his way looking for trouble. Far from it. But upon his way he demanded + consideration. He stood upon his right to go his way unmolested and to + give trail to no dog. He had to be taken into account, that was all. + He was no longer to be disregarded and ignored, as was the lot of + puppies, and as continued to be the lot of the puppies that were his + team-mates. They got out of the way, gave trail to the grown dogs, and + gave up meat to them under compulsion. But White Fang, + uncompanionable, solitary, morose, scarcely looking to right or left, + redoubtable, forbidding of aspect, remote and alien, was accepted as + an equal by his puzzled elders. They quickly learned to leave him + alone, neither venturing hostile acts nor making overtures of + friendliness. If they left him alone, he left them alone—a state of + affairs that they found, after a few encounters, to be pre-eminently + desirable. +

+

+ In midsummer White Fang had an experience. Trotting along in his + silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on the + edge of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose, he + came full upon Kiche. He paused and looked at her. He remembered her + vaguely, but he remembered her, and that was more than could + be said for her. She lifted her lip at him in the old snarl of menace, + and his memory became clear. His forgotten cubhood, all that was + associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. Before he had + known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of the universe. + The old familiar feelings of that time came back upon him, surged up + within him. He bounded towards her joyously, and she met him with + shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to the bone. He did not + understand. He backed away, bewildered and puzzled. +

+

+ But it was not Kiche’s fault. A wolf-mother was not made to remember + her cubs of a year or so before. So she did not remember White Fang. + He was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present litter of + puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion. +

+

+ One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang. They were half-brothers, + only they did not know it. White Fang sniffed the puppy curiously, + whereupon Kiche rushed upon him, gashing his face a second time. He + backed farther away. All the old memories and associations died down + again and passed into the grave from which they had been resurrected. + He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and stopping now and then to + snarl at him. She was without value to him. He had learned to get + along without her. Her meaning was forgotten. There was no place for + her in his scheme of things, as there was no place for him in hers. +

+

+ He was still standing, stupid and bewildered, the memories forgotten, + wondering what it was all about, when Kiche attacked him a third time, + intent on driving him away altogether from the vicinity. And White + Fang allowed himself to be driven away. This was a female of his kind, + and it was a law of his kind that the males must not fight the + females. He did not know anything about this law, for it was no + generalisation of the mind, not a something acquired by experience of + the world. He knew it as a secret prompting, as an urge of instinct—of + the same instinct that made him howl at the moon and stars of nights, + and that made him fear death and the unknown. +

+

+ The months went by. White Fang grew stronger, heavier, and more + compact, while his character was developing along the lines laid down + by his heredity and his environment. His heredity was a life-stuff + that may be likened to clay. It possessed many possibilities, was + capable of being moulded into many different forms. Environment served + to model the clay, to give it a particular form. Thus, had White Fang + never come in to the fires of man, the Wild would have moulded him + into a true wolf. But the gods had given him a different environment, + and he was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish, but that was a + dog and not a wolf. +

+

+ And so, according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his + surroundings, his character was being moulded into a certain + particular shape. There was no escaping it. He was becoming more + morose, more uncompanionable, more solitary, more ferocious; while the + dogs were learning more and more that it was better to be at peace + with him than at war, and Grey Beaver was coming to prize him more + greatly with the passage of each day. +

+

+ White Fang, seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities, + nevertheless suffered from one besetting weakness. He could not stand + being laughed at. The laughter of men was a hateful thing. They might + laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except himself, and + he did not mind. But the moment laughter was turned upon him he would + fly into a most terrible rage. Grave, dignified, sombre, a laugh made + him frantic to ridiculousness. It so outraged him and upset him that + for hours he would behave like a demon. And woe to the dog that at + such times ran foul of him. He knew the law too well to take it out of + Grey Beaver; behind Grey Beaver were a club and godhead. But behind + the dogs there was nothing but space, and into this space they flew + when White Fang came on the scene, made mad by laughter. +

+

+ In the third year of his life there came a great famine to the + Mackenzie Indians. In the summer the fish failed. In the winter the + cariboo forsook their accustomed track. Moose were scarce, the rabbits + almost disappeared, hunting and preying animals perished. Denied their + usual food-supply, weakened by hunger, they fell upon and devoured one + another. Only the strong survived. White Fang’s gods were always + hunting animals. The old and the weak of them died of hunger. There + was wailing in the village, where the women and children went without + in order that what little they had might go into the bellies of the + lean and hollow-eyed hunters who trod the forest in the vain pursuit + of meat. +

+

+ To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft-tanned + leather of their mocassins and mittens, while the dogs ate the + harnesses off their backs and the very whip-lashes. Also, the dogs ate + one another, and also the gods ate the dogs. The weakest and the more + worthless were eaten first. The dogs that still lived, looked on and + understood. A few of the boldest and wisest forsook the fires of the + gods, which had now become a shambles, and fled into the forest, + where, in the end, they starved to death or were eaten by wolves. +

+

+ In this time of misery, White Fang, too, stole away into the woods. He + was better fitted for the life than the other dogs, for he had the + training of his cubhood to guide him. Especially adept did he become + in stalking small living things. He would lie concealed for hours, + following every movement of a cautious tree-squirrel, waiting, with a + patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from, until the squirrel + ventured out upon the ground. Even then, White Fang was not premature. + He waited until he was sure of striking before the squirrel could gain + a tree-refuge. Then, and not until then, would he flash from his + hiding-place, a grey projectile, incredibly swift, never failing its + mark—the fleeing squirrel that fled not fast enough. +

+

+ Successful as he was with squirrels, there was one difficulty that + prevented him from living and growing fat on them. There were not + enough squirrels. So he was driven to hunt still smaller things. So + acute did his hunger become at times that he was not above rooting out + wood-mice from their burrows in the ground. Nor did he scorn to do + battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times more + ferocious. +

+

+ In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of the + gods. But he did not go into the fires. He lurked in the forest, + avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals when + game was caught. He even robbed Grey Beaver’s snare of a rabbit at a + time when Grey Beaver staggered and tottered through the forest, + sitting down often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness of + breath. +

+

+ One day While Fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, + loose-jointed with famine. Had he not been hungry himself, White Fang + might have gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack + amongst his wild brethren. As it was, he ran the young wolf down and + killed and ate him. +

+

+ Fortune seemed to favour him. Always, when hardest pressed for food, + he found something to kill. Again, when he was weak, it was his luck + that none of the larger preying animals chanced upon him. Thus, he was + strong from the two days’ eating a lynx had afforded him when the + hungry wolf-pack ran full tilt upon him. It was a long, cruel chase, + but he was better nourished than they, and in the end outran them. And + not only did he outrun them, but, circling widely back on his track, + he gathered in one of his exhausted pursuers. +

+

+ After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to the + valley wherein he had been born. Here, in the old lair, he encountered + Kiche. Up to her old tricks, she, too, had fled the inhospitable fires + of the gods and gone back to her old refuge to give birth to her + young. Of this litter but one remained alive when White Fang came upon + the scene, and this one was not destined to live long. Young life had + little chance in such a famine. +

+

+ Kiche’s greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate. But + White Fang did not mind. He had outgrown his mother. So he turned tail + philosophically and trotted on up the stream. At the forks he took the + turning to the left, where he found the lair of the lynx with whom his + mother and he had fought long before. Here, in the abandoned lair, he + settled down and rested for a day. +

+

+ During the early summer, in the last days of the famine, he met + Lip-lip, who had likewise taken to the woods, where he had eked out a + miserable existence. +

+

+ White Fang came upon him unexpectedly. Trotting in opposite directions + along the base of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of rock and + found themselves face to face. They paused with instant alarm, and + looked at each other suspiciously. +

+

+ White Fang was in splendid condition. His hunting had been good, and + for a week he had eaten his fill. He was even gorged from his latest + kill. But in the moment he looked at Lip-lip his hair rose on end all + along his back. It was an involuntary bristling on his part, the + physical state that in the past had always accompanied the mental + state produced in him by Lip-lip’s bullying and persecution. As in the + past he had bristled and snarled at sight of Lip-lip, so now, and + automatically, he bristled and snarled. He did not waste any time. The + thing was done thoroughly and with despatch. Lip-lip essayed to back + away, but White Fang struck him hard, shoulder to shoulder. Lip-lip + was overthrown and rolled upon his back. White Fang’s teeth drove into + the scrawny throat. There was a death-struggle, during which White + Fang walked around, stiff-legged and observant. Then he resumed his + course and trotted on along the base of the bluff. +

+

+ One day, not long after, he came to the edge of the forest, where a + narrow stretch of open land sloped down to the Mackenzie. He had been + over this ground before, when it was bare, but now a village occupied + it. Still hidden amongst the trees, he paused to study the situation. + Sights and sounds and scents were familiar to him. It was the old + village changed to a new place. But sights and sounds and smells were + different from those he had last had when he fled away from it. There + was no whimpering nor wailing. Contented sounds saluted his ear, and + when he heard the angry voice of a woman he knew it to be the anger + that proceeds from a full stomach. And there was a smell in the air of + fish. There was food. The famine was gone. He came out boldly from the + forest and trotted into camp straight to Grey Beaver’s tepee. Grey + Beaver was not there; but Kloo-kooch welcomed him with glad cries and + the whole of a fresh-caught fish, and he lay down to wait Grey + Beaver’s coming. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84a65f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch03.md @@ -0,0 +1,1607 @@ +--- +title: Part III +class: part +--- + +## + +### The Makers of Fire + +The cub came upon it suddenly. It was his own fault. +He had been careless. He had left the cave and run down to the +stream to drink. It might have been that he took no notice because +he was heavy with sleep. (He had been out all night on the meat-trail, +and had but just then awakened.) And his carelessness might have +been due to the familiarity of the trail to the pool. He had travelled +it often, and nothing had ever happened on it. + +He went down past the blasted pine, crossed the open space, and trotted +in amongst the trees. Then, at the same instant, he saw and smelt. +Before him, sitting silently on their haunches, were five live things, +the like of which he had never seen before. It was his first glimpse +of mankind. But at the sight of him the five men did not spring +to their feet, nor show their teeth, nor snarl. They did not move, +but sat there, silent and ominous. + +Nor did the cub move. Every instinct of his nature would have +impelled him to dash wildly away, had there not suddenly and for the +first time arisen in him another and counter instinct. A great +awe descended upon him. He was beaten down to movelessness by +an overwhelming sense of his own weakness and littleness. Here +was mastery and power, something far and away beyond him. + +The cub had never seen man, yet the instinct concerning man was his. +In dim ways he recognised in man the animal that had fought itself to +primacy over the other animals of the Wild. Not alone out of his +own eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now looking +upon man—out of eyes that had circled in the darkness around countless +winter camp-fires, that had peered from safe distances and from the +hearts of thickets at the strange, two-legged animal that was lord over +living things. The spell of the cub’s heritage was upon +him, the fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle and +the accumulated experience of the generations. The heritage was +too compelling for a wolf that was only a cub. Had he been full-grown, +he would have run away. As it was, he cowered down in a paralysis +of fear, already half proffering the submission that his kind had proffered +from the first time a wolf came in to sit by man’s fire and be +made warm. + +One of the Indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above +him. The cub cowered closer to the ground. It was the unknown, +objectified at last, in concrete flesh and blood, bending over him and +reaching down to seize hold of him. His hair bristled involuntarily; +his lips writhed back and his little fangs were bared. The hand, +poised like doom above him, hesitated, and the man spoke laughing, “_Wabam +wabisca ip pit tah_.” (“Look! The white fangs!”) + +The other Indians laughed loudly, and urged the man on to pick up +the cub. As the hand descended closer and closer, there raged +within the cub a battle of the instincts. He experienced two great +impulsions—to yield and to fight. The resulting action was +a compromise. He did both. He yielded till the hand almost +touched him. Then he fought, his teeth flashing in a snap that +sank them into the hand. The next moment he received a clout alongside +the head that knocked him over on his side. Then all fight fled +out of him. His puppyhood and the instinct of submission took +charge of him. He sat up on his haunches and ki-yi’d. +But the man whose hand he had bitten was angry. The cub received +a clout on the other side of his head. Whereupon he sat up and +ki-yi’d louder than ever. + +The four Indians laughed more loudly, while even the man who had +been bitten began to laugh. They surrounded the cub and laughed +at him, while he wailed out his terror and his hurt. In the midst +of it, he heard something. The Indians heard it too. But +the cub knew what it was, and with a last, long wail that had in it +more of triumph than grief, he ceased his noise and waited for the coming +of his mother, of his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and +killed all things and was never afraid. She was snarling as she +ran. She had heard the cry of her cub and was dashing to save +him. + +She bounded in amongst them, her anxious and militant motherhood +making her anything but a pretty sight. But to the cub the spectacle +of her protective rage was pleasing. He uttered a glad little +cry and bounded to meet her, while the man-animals went back hastily +several steps. The she-wolf stood over against her cub, facing +the men, with bristling hair, a snarl rumbling deep in her throat. +Her face was distorted and malignant with menace, even the bridge of +the nose wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl. + +Then it was that a cry went up from one of the men. “Kiche!” +was what he uttered. It was an exclamation of surprise. +The cub felt his mother wilting at the sound. + +“Kiche!” the man cried again, this time with sharpness +and authority. + +And then the cub saw his mother, the she-wolf, the fearless one, +crouching down till her belly touched the ground, whimpering, wagging +her tail, making peace signs. The cub could not understand. +He was appalled. The awe of man rushed over him again. His +instinct had been true. His mother verified it. She, too, +rendered submission to the man-animals. + +The man who had spoken came over to her. He put his hand upon +her head, and she only crouched closer. She did not snap, nor +threaten to snap. The other men came up, and surrounded her, and +felt her, and pawed her, which actions she made no attempt to resent. +They were greatly excited, and made many noises with their mouths. +These noises were not indication of danger, the cub decided, as he crouched +near his mother still bristling from time to time but doing his best +to submit. + +“It is not strange,” an Indian was saying. “Her +father was a wolf. It is true, her mother was a dog; but did not +my brother tie her out in the woods all of three nights in the mating +season? Therefore was the father of Kiche a wolf.” + +“It is a year, Grey Beaver, since she ran away,” spoke +a second Indian. + +“It is not strange, Salmon Tongue,” Grey Beaver answered. +“It was the time of the famine, and there was no meat for the +dogs.” + +“She has lived with the wolves,” said a third Indian. + +“So it would seem, Three Eagles,” Grey Beaver answered, +laying his hand on the cub; “and this be the sign of it.” + +The cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand, and the hand flew +back to administer a clout. Whereupon the cub covered its fangs, +and sank down submissively, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind +his ears, and up and down his back. + +“This be the sign of it,” Grey Beaver went on. +“It is plain that his mother is Kiche. But his father was +a wolf. Wherefore is there in him little dog and much wolf. +His fangs be white, and White Fang shall be his name. I have spoken. +He is my dog. For was not Kiche my brother’s dog? +And is not my brother dead?” + +The cub, who had thus received a name in the world, lay and watched. +For a time the man-animals continued to make their mouth-noises. +Then Grey Beaver took a knife from a sheath that hung around his neck, +and went into the thicket and cut a stick. White Fang watched +him. He notched the stick at each end and in the notches fastened +strings of raw-hide. One string he tied around the throat of Kiche. +Then he led her to a small pine, around which he tied the other string. + +White Fang followed and lay down beside her. Salmon Tongue’s +hand reached out to him and rolled him over on his back. Kiche +looked on anxiously. White Fang felt fear mounting in him again. +He could not quite suppress a snarl, but he made no offer to snap. +The hand, with fingers crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stomach +in a playful way and rolled him from side to side. It was ridiculous +and ungainly, lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air. +Besides, it was a position of such utter helplessness that White Fang’s +whole nature revolted against it. He could do nothing to defend +himself. If this man-animal intended harm, White Fang knew that +he could not escape it. How could he spring away with his four +legs in the air above him? Yet submission made him master his +fear, and he only growled softly. This growl he could not suppress; +nor did the man-animal resent it by giving him a blow on the head. +And furthermore, such was the strangeness of it, White Fang experienced +an unaccountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and forth. +When he was rolled on his side he ceased to growl, when the fingers +pressed and prodded at the base of his ears the pleasurable sensation +increased; and when, with a final rub and scratch, the man left him +alone and went away, all fear had died out of White Fang. He was +to know fear many times in his dealing with man; yet it was a token +of the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to be his. + +After a time, White Fang heard strange noises approaching. +He was quick in his classification, for he knew them at once for man-animal +noises. A few minutes later the remainder of the tribe, strung +out as it was on the march, trailed in. There were more men and +many women and children, forty souls of them, and all heavily burdened +with camp equipage and outfit. Also there were many dogs; and +these, with the exception of the part-grown puppies, were likewise burdened +with camp outfit. On their backs, in bags that fastened tightly +around underneath, the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of +weight. + +White Fang had never seen dogs before, but at sight of them he felt +that they were his own kind, only somehow different. But they +displayed little difference from the wolf when they discovered the cub +and his mother. There was a rush. White Fang bristled and +snarled and snapped in the face of the open-mouthed oncoming wave of +dogs, and went down and under them, feeling the sharp slash of teeth +in his body, himself biting and tearing at the legs and bellies above +him. There was a great uproar. He could hear the snarl of +Kiche as she fought for him; and he could hear the cries of the man-animals, +the sound of clubs striking upon bodies, and the yelps of pain from +the dogs so struck. + +Only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again. +He could now see the man-animals driving back the dogs with clubs and +stones, defending him, saving him from the savage teeth of his kind +that somehow was not his kind. And though there was no reason +in his brain for a clear conception of so abstract a thing as justice, +nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the justice of the man-animals, +and he knew them for what they were—makers of law and executors +of law. Also, he appreciated the power with which they administered +the law. Unlike any animals he had ever encountered, they did +not bite nor claw. They enforced their live strength with the +power of dead things. Dead things did their bidding. Thus, +sticks and stones, directed by these strange creatures, leaped through +the air like living things, inflicting grievous hurts upon the dogs. + +To his mind this was power unusual, power inconceivable and beyond +the natural, power that was godlike. White Fang, in the very nature +of him, could never know anything about gods; at the best he could know +only things that were beyond knowing—but the wonder and awe that +he had of these man-animals in ways resembled what would be the wonder +and awe of man at sight of some celestial creature, on a mountain top, +hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an astonished world. + +The last dog had been driven back. The hubbub died down. +And White Fang licked his hurts and meditated upon this, his first taste +of pack-cruelty and his introduction to the pack. He had never +dreamed that his own kind consisted of more than One Eye, his mother, +and himself. They had constituted a kind apart, and here, abruptly, +he had discovered many more creatures apparently of his own kind. +And there was a subconscious resentment that these, his kind, at first +sight had pitched upon him and tried to destroy him. In the same +way he resented his mother being tied with a stick, even though it was +done by the superior man-animals. It savoured of the trap, of +bondage. Yet of the trap and of bondage he knew nothing. +Freedom to roam and run and lie down at will, had been his heritage; +and here it was being infringed upon. His mother’s movements +were restricted to the length of a stick, and by the length of that +same stick was he restricted, for he had not yet got beyond the need +of his mother’s side. + +He did not like it. Nor did he like it when the man-animals +arose and went on with their march; for a tiny man-animal took the other +end of the stick and led Kiche captive behind him, and behind Kiche +followed White Fang, greatly perturbed and worried by this new adventure +he had entered upon. + +They went down the valley of the stream, far beyond White Fang’s +widest ranging, until they came to the end of the valley, where the +stream ran into the Mackenzie River. Here, where canoes were cached +on poles high in the air and where stood fish-racks for the drying of +fish, camp was made; and White Fang looked on with wondering eyes. +The superiority of these man-animals increased with every moment. +There was their mastery over all these sharp-fanged dogs. It breathed +of power. But greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was their mastery +over things not alive; their capacity to communicate motion to unmoving +things; their capacity to change the very face of the world. + +It was this last that especially affected him. The elevation +of frames of poles caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so remarkable, +being done by the same creatures that flung sticks and stones to great +distances. But when the frames of poles were made into tepees +by being covered with cloth and skins, White Fang was astounded. +It was the colossal bulk of them that impressed him. They arose +around him, on every side, like some monstrous quick-growing form of +life. They occupied nearly the whole circumference of his field +of vision. He was afraid of them. They loomed ominously +above him; and when the breeze stirred them into huge movements, he +cowered down in fear, keeping his eyes warily upon them, and prepared +to spring away if they attempted to precipitate themselves upon him. + +But in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away. He +saw the women and children passing in and out of them without harm, +and he saw the dogs trying often to get into them, and being driven +away with sharp words and flying stones. After a time, he left +Kiche’s side and crawled cautiously toward the wall of the nearest +tepee. It was the curiosity of growth that urged him on—the +necessity of learning and living and doing that brings experience. +The last few inches to the wall of the tepee were crawled with painful +slowness and precaution. The day’s events had prepared him +for the unknown to manifest itself in most stupendous and unthinkable +ways. At last his nose touched the canvas. He waited. +Nothing happened. Then he smelled the strange fabric, saturated +with the man-smell. He closed on the canvas with his teeth and +gave a gentle tug. Nothing happened, though the adjacent portions +of the tepee moved. He tugged harder. There was a greater +movement. It was delightful. He tugged still harder, and +repeatedly, until the whole tepee was in motion. Then the sharp +cry of a squaw inside sent him scampering back to Kiche. But after +that he was afraid no more of the looming bulks of the tepees. + +A moment later he was straying away again from his mother. +Her stick was tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him. +A part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came toward him +slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance. The puppy’s +name, as White Fang was afterward to hear him called, was Lip-lip. +He had had experience in puppy fights and was already something of a +bully. + +Lip-lip was White Fang’s own kind, and, being only a puppy, +did not seem dangerous; so White Fang prepared to meet him in a friendly +spirit. But when the strangers walk became stiff-legged and his +lips lifted clear of his teeth, White Fang stiffened too, and answered +with lifted lips. They half circled about each other, tentatively, +snarling and bristling. This lasted several minutes, and White +Fang was beginning to enjoy it, as a sort of game. But suddenly, +with remarkable swiftness, Lip-lip leaped in, delivering a slashing +snap, and leaped away again. The snap had taken effect on the +shoulder that had been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep +down near the bone. The surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp +out of White Fang; but the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon +Lip-lip and snapping viciously. + +But Lip-lip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy fights. +Three times, four times, and half a dozen times, his sharp little teeth +scored on the newcomer, until White Fang, yelping shamelessly, fled +to the protection of his mother. It was the first of the many +fights he was to have with Lip-lip, for they were enemies from the start, +born so, with natures destined perpetually to clash. + +Kiche licked White Fang soothingly with her tongue, and tried to +prevail upon him to remain with her. But his curiosity was rampant, +and several minutes later he was venturing forth on a new quest. +He came upon one of the man-animals, Grey Beaver, who was squatting +on his hams and doing something with sticks and dry moss spread before +him on the ground. White Fang came near to him and watched. +Grey Beaver made mouth-noises which White Fang interpreted as not hostile, +so he came still nearer. + +Women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to Grey +Beaver. It was evidently an affair of moment. White Fang +came in until he touched Grey Beaver’s knee, so curious was he, +and already forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. Suddenly +he saw a strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks +and moss beneath Grey Beaver’s hands. Then, amongst the +sticks themselves, appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a +colour like the colour of the sun in the sky. White Fang knew +nothing about fire. It drew him as the light, in the mouth of +the cave had drawn him in his early puppyhood. He crawled the +several steps toward the flame. He heard Grey Beaver chuckle above +him, and he knew the sound was not hostile. Then his nose touched +the flame, and at the same instant his little tongue went out to it. + +For a moment he was paralysed. The unknown, lurking in the +midst of the sticks and moss, was savagely clutching him by the nose. +He scrambled backward, bursting out in an astonished explosion of ki-yi’s. +At the sound, Kiche leaped snarling to the end of her stick, and there +raged terribly because she could not come to his aid. But Grey +Beaver laughed loudly, and slapped his thighs, and told the happening +to all the rest of the camp, till everybody was laughing uproariously. +But White Fang sat on his haunches and ki-yi’d and ki-yi’d, +a forlorn and pitiable little figure in the midst of the man-animals. + +It was the worst hurt he had ever known. Both nose and tongue +had been scorched by the live thing, sun-coloured, that had grown up +under Grey Beaver’s hands. He cried and cried interminably, +and every fresh wail was greeted by bursts of laughter on the part of +the man-animals. He tried to soothe his nose with his tongue, +but the tongue was burnt too, and the two hurts coming together produced +greater hurt; whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than +ever. + +And then shame came to him. He knew laughter and the meaning +of it. It is not given us to know how some animals know laughter, +and know when they are being laughed at; but it was this same way that +White Fang knew it. And he felt shame that the man-animals should +be laughing at him. He turned and fled away, not from the hurt +of the fire, but from the laughter that sank even deeper, and hurt in +the spirit of him. And he fled to Kiche, raging at the end of +her stick like an animal gone mad—to Kiche, the one creature in +the world who was not laughing at him. + +Twilight drew down and night came on, and White Fang lay by his mother’s +side. His nose and tongue still hurt, but he was perplexed by +a greater trouble. He was homesick. He felt a vacancy in +him, a need for the hush and quietude of the stream and the cave in +the cliff. Life had become too populous. There were so many +of the man-animals, men, women, and children, all making noises and +irritations. And there were the dogs, ever squabbling and bickering, +bursting into uproars and creating confusions. The restful loneliness +of the only life he had known was gone. Here the very air was +palpitant with life. It hummed and buzzed unceasingly. Continually +changing its intensity and abruptly variant in pitch, it impinged on +his nerves and senses, made him nervous and restless and worried him +with a perpetual imminence of happening. + +He watched the man-animals coming and going and moving about the +camp. In fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the +gods they create, so looked White Fang upon the man-animals before him. +They were superior creatures, of a verity, gods. To his dim comprehension +they were as much wonder-workers as gods are to men. They were +creatures of mastery, possessing all manner of unknown and impossible +potencies, overlords of the alive and the not alive—making obey +that which moved, imparting movement to that which did not move, and +making life, sun-coloured and biting life, to grow out of dead moss +and wood. They were fire-makers! They were gods. + +### The Bondage + +The days were thronged with experience for White Fang. During +the time that Kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about over all the +camp, inquiring, investigating, learning. He quickly came to know +much of the ways of the man-animals, but familiarity did not breed contempt. +The more he came to know them, the more they vindicated their superiority, +the more they displayed their mysterious powers, the greater loomed +their god-likeness. + +To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown +and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have +come in to crouch at man’s feet, this grief has never come. +Unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, vapours +and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths +of desired goodness and power, intangible out-croppings of self into +the realm of spirit—unlike man, the wolf and the wild dog that +have come in to the fire find their gods in the living flesh, solid +to the touch, occupying earth-space and requiring time for the accomplishment +of their ends and their existence. No effort of faith is necessary +to believe in such a god; no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief +in such a god. There is no getting away from it. There it +stands, on its two hind-legs, club in hand, immensely potential, passionate +and wrathful and loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and +around by flesh that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat +like any flesh. + +And so it was with White Fang. The man-animals were gods unmistakable +and unescapable. As his mother, Kiche, had rendered her allegiance +to them at the first cry of her name, so he was beginning to render +his allegiance. He gave them the trail as a privilege indubitably +theirs. When they walked, he got out of their way. When +they called, he came. When they threatened, he cowered down. +When they commanded him to go, he went away hurriedly. For behind +any wish of theirs was power to enforce that wish, power that hurt, +power that expressed itself in clouts and clubs, in flying stones and +stinging lashes of whips. + +He belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. His actions +were theirs to command. His body was theirs to maul, to stamp +upon, to tolerate. Such was the lesson that was quickly borne +in upon him. It came hard, going as it did, counter to much that +was strong and dominant in his own nature; and, while he disliked it +in the learning of it, unknown to himself he was learning to like it. +It was a placing of his destiny in another’s hands, a shifting +of the responsibilities of existence. This in itself was compensation, +for it is always easier to lean upon another than to stand alone. + +But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, +body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego +his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days +when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something +calling him far and away. And always he returned, restless and +uncomfortable, to whimper softly and wistfully at Kiche’s side +and to lick her face with eager, questioning tongue. + +White Fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp. He knew the +injustice and greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was thrown +out to be eaten. He came to know that men were more just, children +more cruel, and women more kindly and more likely to toss him a bit +of meat or bone. And after two or three painful adventures with +the mothers of part-grown puppies, he came into the knowledge that it +was always good policy to let such mothers alone, to keep away from +them as far as possible, and to avoid them when he saw them coming. + +But the bane of his life was Lip-lip. Larger, older, and stronger, +Lip-lip had selected White Fang for his special object of persecution. +White Fang fought willingly enough, but he was outclassed. His +enemy was too big. Lip-lip became a nightmare to him. Whenever +he ventured away from his mother, the bully was sure to appear, trailing +at his heels, snarling at him, picking upon him, and watchful of an +opportunity, when no man-animal was near, to spring upon him and force +a fight. As Lip-lip invariably won, he enjoyed it hugely. +It became his chief delight in life, as it became White Fang’s +chief torment. + +But the effect upon White Fang was not to cow him. Though he +suffered most of the damage and was always defeated, his spirit remained +unsubdued. Yet a bad effect was produced. He became malignant +and morose. His temper had been savage by birth, but it became +more savage under this unending persecution. The genial, playful, +puppyish side of him found little expression. He never played +and gambolled about with the other puppies of the camp. Lip-lip +would not permit it. The moment White Fang appeared near them, +Lip-lip was upon him, bullying and hectoring him, or fighting with him +until he had driven him away. + +The effect of all this was to rob White Fang of much of his puppyhood +and to make him in his comportment older than his age. Denied +the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself +and developed his mental processes. He became cunning; he had +idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. +Prevented from obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general feed +was given to the camp-dogs, he became a clever thief. He had to +forage for himself, and he foraged well, though he was oft-times a plague +to the squaws in consequence. He learned to sneak about camp, +to be crafty, to know what was going on everywhere, to see and to hear +everything and to reason accordingly, and successfully to devise ways +and means of avoiding his implacable persecutor. + +It was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first +really big crafty game and got there from his first taste of revenge. +As Kiche, when with the wolves, had lured out to destruction dogs from +the camps of men, so White Fang, in manner somewhat similar, lured Lip-lip +into Kiche’s avenging jaws. Retreating before Lip-lip, White +Fang made an indirect flight that led in and out and around the various +tepees of the camp. He was a good runner, swifter than any puppy +of his size, and swifter than Lip-lip. But he did not run his +best in this chase. He barely held his own, one leap ahead of +his pursuer. + +Lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his +victim, forgot caution and locality. When he remembered locality, +it was too late. Dashing at top speed around a tepee, he ran full +tilt into Kiche lying at the end of her stick. He gave one yelp +of consternation, and then her punishing jaws closed upon him. +She was tied, but he could not get away from her easily. She rolled +him off his legs so that he could not run, while she repeatedly ripped +and slashed him with her fangs. + +When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to +his feet, badly dishevelled, hurt both in body and in spirit. +His hair was standing out all over him in tufts where her teeth had +mauled. He stood where he had arisen, opened his mouth, and broke +out the long, heart-broken puppy wail. But even this he was not +allowed to complete. In the middle of it, White Fang, rushing +in, sank his teeth into Lip-lip’s hind leg. There was no +fight left in Lip-lip, and he ran away shamelessly, his victim hot on +his heels and worrying him all the way back to his own tepee. +Here the squaws came to his aid, and White Fang, transformed into a +raging demon, was finally driven off only by a fusillade of stones. + +Came the day when Grey Beaver, deciding that the liability of her +running away was past, released Kiche. White Fang was delighted +with his mother’s freedom. He accompanied her joyfully about +the camp; and, so long as he remained close by her side, Lip-lip kept +a respectful distance. White-Fang even bristled up to him and +walked stiff-legged, but Lip-lip ignored the challenge. He was +no fool himself, and whatever vengeance he desired to wreak, he could +wait until he caught White Fang alone. + +Later on that day, Kiche and White Fang strayed into the edge of +the woods next to the camp. He had led his mother there, step +by step, and now when she stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. +The stream, the lair, and the quiet woods were calling to him, and he +wanted her to come. He ran on a few steps, stopped, and looked +back. She had not moved. He whined pleadingly, and scurried +playfully in and out of the underbrush. He ran back to her, licked +her face, and ran on again. And still she did not move. +He stopped and regarded her, all of an intentness and eagerness, physically +expressed, that slowly faded out of him as she turned her head and gazed +back at the camp. + +There was something calling to him out there in the open. His +mother heard it too. But she heard also that other and louder +call, the call of the fire and of man—the call which has been +given alone of all animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf and the +wild-dog, who are brothers. + +Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. Stronger +than the physical restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp +upon her. Unseen and occultly, the gods still gripped with their +power and would not let her go. White Fang sat down in the shadow +of a birch and whimpered softly. There was a strong smell of pine, +and subtle wood fragrances filled the air, reminding him of his old +life of freedom before the days of his bondage. But he was still +only a part-grown puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or +of the Wild was the call of his mother. All the hours of his short +life he had depended upon her. The time was yet to come for independence. +So he arose and trotted forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and twice, +to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call that still sounded +in the depths of the forest. + +In the Wild the time of a mother with her young is short; but under +the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. Thus it was +with White Fang. Grey Beaver was in the debt of Three Eagles. +Three Eagles was going away on a trip up the Mackenzie to the Great +Slave Lake. A strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty cartridges, +and Kiche, went to pay the debt. White Fang saw his mother taken +aboard Three Eagles’ canoe, and tried to follow her. A blow +from Three Eagles knocked him backward to the land. The canoe +shoved off. He sprang into the water and swam after it, deaf to +the sharp cries of Grey Beaver to return. Even a man-animal, a +god, White Fang ignored, such was the terror he was in of losing his +mother. + +But gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and Grey Beaver wrathfully +launched a canoe in pursuit. When he overtook White Fang, he reached +down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear of the water. +He did not deposit him at once in the bottom of the canoe. Holding +him suspended with one hand, with the other hand he proceeded to give +him a beating. And it _was_ a beating. His hand was +heavy. Every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he delivered a multitude +of blows. + +Impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side, now +from that, White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky +pendulum. Varying were the emotions that surged through him. +At first, he had known surprise. Then came a momentary fear, when +he yelped several times to the impact of the hand. But this was +quickly followed by anger. His free nature asserted itself, and +he showed his teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of the wrathful +god. This but served to make the god more wrathful. The +blows came faster, heavier, more shrewd to hurt. + +Grey Beaver continued to beat, White Fang continued to snarl. +But this could not last for ever. One or the other must give over, +and that one was White Fang. Fear surged through him again. +For the first time he was being really man-handled. The occasional +blows of sticks and stones he had previously experienced were as caresses +compared with this. He broke down and began to cry and yelp. +For a time each blow brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into terror, +until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession, unconnected +with the rhythm of the punishment. + +At last Grey Beaver withheld his hand. White Fang, hanging +limply, continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who +flung him down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. In the meantime +the canoe had drifted down the stream. Grey Beaver picked up the +paddle. White Fang was in his way. He spurned him savagely +with his foot. In that moment White Fang’s free nature flashed +forth again, and he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot. + +The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the +beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; +likewise was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but +the hard wooden paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore +in all his small body when he was again flung down in the canoe. +Again, and this time with purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White +Fang did not repeat his attack on the foot. He had learned another +lesson of his bondage. Never, no matter what the circumstance, +must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body +of the lord and master was sacred, not to be defiled by the teeth of +such as he. That was evidently the crime of crimes, the one offence +there was no condoning nor overlooking. + +When the canoe touched the shore, White Fang lay whimpering and motionless, +waiting the will of Grey Beaver. It was Grey Beaver’s will +that he should go ashore, for ashore he was flung, striking heavily +on his side and hurting his bruises afresh. He crawled tremblingly +to his feet and stood whimpering. Lip-lip, who had watched the +whole proceeding from the bank, now rushed upon him, knocking him over +and sinking his teeth into him. White Fang was too helpless to +defend himself, and it would have gone hard with him had not Grey Beaver’s +foot shot out, lifting Lip-lip into the air with its violence so that +he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. This was the man-animal’s +justice; and even then, in his own pitiable plight, White Fang experienced +a little grateful thrill. At Grey Beaver’s heels he limped +obediently through the village to the tepee. And so it came that +White Fang learned that the right to punish was something the gods reserved +for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under them. + +That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother +and sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey +Beaver, who beat him. After that he mourned gently when the gods +were around. But sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods +by himself, he gave vent to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings +and wailings. + +It was during this period that he might have harkened to the memories +of the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild. But the memory +of his mother held him. As the hunting man-animals went out and +came back, so she would come back to the village some time. So +he remained in his bondage waiting for her. + +But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage. There was much +to interest him. Something was always happening. There was +no end to the strange things these gods did, and he was always curious +to see. Besides, he was learning how to get along with Grey Beaver. +Obedience, rigid, undeviating obedience, was what was exacted of him; +and in return he escaped beatings and his existence was tolerated. + +Nay, Grey Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat, and +defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it. And such +a piece of meat was of value. It was worth more, in some strange +way, then a dozen pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw. Grey +Beaver never petted nor caressed. Perhaps it was the weight of +his hand, perhaps his justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps +it was all these things that influenced White Fang; for a certain tie +of attachment was forming between him and his surly lord. + +Insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick +and stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of White Fang’s +bondage being riveted upon him. The qualities in his kind that +in the beginning made it possible for them to come in to the fires of +men, were qualities capable of development. They were developing +in him, and the camp-life, replete with misery as it was, was secretly +endearing itself to him all the time. But White Fang was unaware +of it. He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche, hope for her +return, and a hungry yearning for the free life that had been his. + +### The Outcast + +Lip-lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became wickeder +and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. Savageness +was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus developed exceeded +his make-up. He acquired a reputation for wickedness amongst the +man-animals themselves. Wherever there was trouble and uproar +in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over a bit +of stolen meat, they were sure to find White Fang mixed up in it and +usually at the bottom of it. They did not bother to look after +the causes of his conduct. They saw only the effects, and the +effects were bad. He was a sneak and a thief, a mischief-maker, +a fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to his face, the while +he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick-flung missile, that +he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end. + +He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp. +All the young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. There was a +difference between White Fang and them. Perhaps they sensed his +wild-wood breed, and instinctively felt for him the enmity that the +domestic dog feels for the wolf. But be that as it may, they joined +with Lip-lip in the persecution. And, once declared against him, +they found good reason to continue declared against him. One and +all, from time to time, they felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave +more than he received. Many of them he could whip in single fight; +but single fight was denied him. The beginning of such a fight +was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running and pitch +upon him. + +Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how +to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him—and how, on +a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest +space of time. To keep one’s feet in the midst of the hostile +mass meant life, and this he learnt well. He became cat-like in +his ability to stay on his feet. Even grown dogs might hurtle +him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies; and +backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding on the ground, +but always with his legs under him and his feet downward to the mother +earth. + +When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual combat—snarlings +and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But White Fang learned +to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the coming against him +of all the young dogs. He must do his work quickly and get away. +So he learnt to give no warning of his intention. He rushed in +and snapped and slashed on the instant, without notice, before his foe +could prepare to meet him. Thus he learned how to inflict quick +and severe damage. Also he learned the value of surprise. +A dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped +in ribbons before it knew what was happening, was a dog half whipped. + +Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by surprise; +while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a moment the soft +underside of its neck—the vulnerable point at which to strike +for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was a knowledge +bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of wolves. +So it was that White Fang’s method when he took the offensive, +was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise it and knock +it off its feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat. + +Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor +strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog +went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White Fang’s +intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the +edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and attacking +the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. There +was a great row that night. He had been observed, the news had +been carried to the dead dog’s master, the squaws remembered all +the instances of stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was beset by many angry +voices. But he resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which +he had placed the culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for which +his tribespeople clamoured. + +White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period +of his development he never knew a moment’s security. The +tooth of every dog was against him, the hand of every man. He +was greeted with snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. +He lived tensely. He was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary +of being attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared +to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, or +to leap away with a menacing snarl. + +As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young +or old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, +and judgment is required to know when it should be used. White +Fang knew how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he +incorporated all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With +nose serrulated by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves, +tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears flattened +down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and +dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant. +A temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him the vital moment +in which to think and determine his action. But often a pause +so gained lengthened out until it evolved into a complete cessation +from the attack. And before more than one of the grown dogs White +Fang’s snarl enabled him to beat an honourable retreat. + +An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his sanguinary +methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its persecution +of him. Not permitted himself to run with the pack, the curious +state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack could run outside +the pack. White Fang would not permit it. What of his bushwhacking +and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run by themselves. +With the exception of Lip-lip, they were compelled to hunch together +for mutual protection against the terrible enemy they had made. +A puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused +the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub +that had waylaid it. + +But White Fang’s reprisals did not cease, even when the young +dogs had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked +them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were +bunched. The sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing +after him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety. +But woe the dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! White +Fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of +the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive. +This occurred with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs +were prone to forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while +White Fang never forgot himself. Stealing backward glances as +he ran, he was always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous +pursuer that outran his fellows. + +Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the situation +they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it was that +the hunt of White Fang became their chief game—a deadly game, +withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other hand, +being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. During +the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, he led +the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. But the +pack invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him of its +presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a moving shadow +among the trees after the manner of his father and mother before him. +Further he was more directly connected with the Wild than they; and +he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. A favourite trick +of his was to lose his trail in running water and then lie quietly in +a near-by thicket while their baffled cries arose around him. + +Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred +upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and +one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom +in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. The +code he learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak. +Grey Beaver was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed +him. But the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing +to be destroyed. His development was in the direction of power. +In order to face the constant danger of hurt and even of destruction, +his predatory and protective faculties were unduly developed. +He became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, +craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, +more enduring, more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent. +He had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own +nor survive the hostile environment in which he found himself. + +### The Trail of the Gods + +In the fall of the year, when the days were shortening and the bite +of the frost was coming into the air, White Fang got his chance for +liberty. For several days there had been a great hubbub in the +village. The summer camp was being dismantled, and the tribe, +bag and baggage, was preparing to go off to the fall hunting. +White Fang watched it all with eager eyes, and when the tepees began +to come down and the canoes were loading at the bank, he understood. +Already the canoes were departing, and some had disappeared down the +river. + +Quite deliberately he determined to stay behind. He waited +his opportunity to slink out of camp to the woods. Here, in the +running stream where ice was beginning to form, he hid his trail. +Then he crawled into the heart of a dense thicket and waited. +The time passed by, and he slept intermittently for hours. Then +he was aroused by Grey Beaver’s voice calling him by name. +There were other voices. White Fang could hear Grey Beaver’s +squaw taking part in the search, and Mit-sah, who was Grey Beaver’s +son. + +White Fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl +out of his hiding-place, he resisted it. After a time the voices +died away, and some time after that he crept out to enjoy the success +of his undertaking. Darkness was coming on, and for a while he +played about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. Then, +and quite suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. He sat down +to consider, listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by +it. That nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. He felt +the lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. He was suspicious +of the looming bulks of the trees and of the dark shadows that might +conceal all manner of perilous things. + +Then it was cold. Here was no warm side of a tepee against +which to snuggle. The frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting +first one fore-foot and then the other. He curved his bushy tail +around to cover them, and at the same time he saw a vision. There +was nothing strange about it. Upon his inward sight was impressed +a succession of memory-pictures. He saw the camp again, the tepees, +and the blaze of the fires. He heard the shrill voices of the +women, the gruff basses of the men, and the snarling of the dogs. +He was hungry, and he remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been +thrown him. Here was no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible +silence. + +His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened +him. He had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night +yawned about him. His senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle +of the camp, used to the continuous impact of sights and sounds, were +now left idle. There was nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear. +They strained to catch some interruption of the silence and immobility +of nature. They were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something +terrible impending. + +He gave a great start of fright. A colossal and formless something +was rushing across the field of his vision. It was a tree-shadow +flung by the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away. +Reassured, he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for fear +that it might attract the attention of the lurking dangers. + +A tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise. +It was directly above him. He yelped in his fright. A panic +seized him, and he ran madly toward the village. He knew an overpowering +desire for the protection and companionship of man. In his nostrils +was the smell of the camp-smoke. In his ears the camp-sounds and +cries were ringing loud. He passed out of the forest and into +the moonlit open where were no shadows nor darknesses. But no +village greeted his eyes. He had forgotten. The village +had gone away. + +His wild flight ceased abruptly. There was no place to which +to flee. He slunk forlornly through the deserted camp, smelling +the rubbish-heaps and the discarded rags and tags of the gods. +He would have been glad for the rattle of stones about him, flung by +an angry squaw, glad for the hand of Grey Beaver descending upon him +in wrath; while he would have welcomed with delight Lip-lip and the +whole snarling, cowardly pack. + +He came to where Grey Beaver’s tepee had stood. In the +centre of the space it had occupied, he sat down. He pointed his +nose at the moon. His throat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his +mouth opened, and in a heart-broken cry bubbled up his loneliness and +fear, his grief for Kiche, all his past sorrows and miseries as well +as his apprehension of sufferings and dangers to come. It was +the long wolf-howl, full-throated and mournful, the first howl he had +ever uttered. + +The coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his loneliness. +The naked earth, which so shortly before had been so populous; thrust +his loneliness more forcibly upon him. It did not take him long +to make up his mind. He plunged into the forest and followed the +river bank down the stream. All day he ran. He did not rest. +He seemed made to run on for ever. His iron-like body ignored +fatigue. And even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance +braced him to endless endeavour and enabled him to drive his complaining +body onward. + +Where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs, he climbed the +high mountains behind. Rivers and streams that entered the main +river he forded or swam. Often he took to the rim-ice that was +beginning to form, and more than once he crashed through and struggled +for life in the icy current. Always he was on the lookout for +the trail of the gods where it might leave the river and proceed inland. + +White Fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind; yet his +mental vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the Mackenzie. +What if the trail of the gods led out on that side? It never entered +his head. Later on, when he had travelled more and grown older +and wiser and come to know more of trails and rivers, it might be that +he could grasp and apprehend such a possibility. But that mental +power was yet in the future. Just now he ran blindly, his own +bank of the Mackenzie alone entering into his calculations. + +All night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and obstacles +that delayed but did not daunt. By the middle of the second day +he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and the iron of his +flesh was giving out. It was the endurance of his mind that kept +him going. He had not eaten in forty hours, and he was weak with +hunger. The repeated drenchings in the icy water had likewise +had their effect on him. His handsome coat was draggled. +The broad pads of his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had begun +to limp, and this limp increased with the hours. To make it worse, +the light of the sky was obscured and snow began to fall—a raw, +moist, melting, clinging snow, slippery under foot, that hid from him +the landscape he traversed, and that covered over the inequalities of +the ground so that the way of his feet was more difficult and painful. + +Grey Beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the +Mackenzie, for it was in that direction that the hunting lay. +But on the near bank, shortly before dark, a moose coming down to drink, +had been espied by Kloo-kooch, who was Grey Beaver’s squaw. +Now, had not the moose come down to drink, had not Mit-sah been steering +out of the course because of the snow, had not Kloo-kooch sighted the +moose, and had not Grey Beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his +rifle, all subsequent things would have happened differently. +Grey Beaver would not have camped on the near side of the Mackenzie, +and White Fang would have passed by and gone on, either to die or to +find his way to his wild brothers and become one of them—a wolf +to the end of his days. + +Night had fallen. The snow was flying more thickly, and White +Fang, whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along, +came upon a fresh trail in the snow. So fresh was it that he knew +it immediately for what it was. Whining with eagerness, he followed +back from the river bank and in among the trees. The camp-sounds +came to his ears. He saw the blaze of the fire, Kloo-kooch cooking, +and Grey Beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk of raw tallow. +There was fresh meat in camp! + +White Fang expected a beating. He crouched and bristled a little +at the thought of it. Then he went forward again. He feared +and disliked the beating he knew to be waiting for him. But he +knew, further, that the comfort of the fire would be his, the protection +of the gods, the companionship of the dogs—the last, a companionship +of enmity, but none the less a companionship and satisfying to his gregarious +needs. + +He came cringing and crawling into the firelight. Grey Beaver +saw him, and stopped munching the tallow. White Fang crawled slowly, +cringing and grovelling in the abjectness of his abasement and submission. +He crawled straight toward Grey Beaver, every inch of his progress becoming +slower and more painful. At last he lay at the master’s +feet, into whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, +body and soul. Of his own choice, he came in to sit by man’s +fire and to be ruled by him. White Fang trembled, waiting for +the punishment to fall upon him. There was a movement of the hand +above him. He cringed involuntarily under the expected blow. +It did not fall. He stole a glance upward. Grey Beaver was +breaking the lump of tallow in half! Grey Beaver was offering +him one piece of the tallow! Very gently and somewhat suspiciously, +he first smelled the tallow and then proceeded to eat it. Grey +Beaver ordered meat to be brought to him, and guarded him from the other +dogs while he ate. After that, grateful and content, White Fang +lay at Grey Beaver’s feet, gazing at the fire that warmed him, +blinking and dozing, secure in the knowledge that the morrow would find +him, not wandering forlorn through bleak forest-stretches, but in the +camp of the man-animals, with the gods to whom he had given himself +and upon whom he was now dependent. + +### The Covenant + +When December was well along, Grey Beaver went on a journey up the +Mackenzie. Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch went with him. One sled +he drove himself, drawn by dogs he had traded for or borrowed. +A second and smaller sled was driven by Mit-sah, and to this was harnessed +a team of puppies. It was more of a toy affair than anything else, +yet it was the delight of Mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to +do a man’s work in the world. Also, he was learning to drive +dogs and to train dogs; while the puppies themselves were being broken +in to the harness. Furthermore, the sled was of some service, +for it carried nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and food. + +White Fang had seen the camp-dogs toiling in the harness, so that +he did not resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon himself. +About his neck was put a moss-stuffed collar, which was connected by +two pulling-traces to a strap that passed around his chest and over +his back. It was to this that was fastened the long rope by which +he pulled at the sled. + +There were seven puppies in the team. The others had been born +earlier in the year and were nine and ten months old, while White Fang +was only eight months old. Each dog was fastened to the sled by +a single rope. No two ropes were of the same length, while the +difference in length between any two ropes was at least that of a dog’s +body. Every rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the +sled. The sled itself was without runners, being a birch-bark +toboggan, with upturned forward end to keep it from ploughing under +the snow. This construction enabled the weight of the sled and +load to be distributed over the largest snow-surface; for the snow was +crystal-powder and very soft. Observing the same principle of +widest distribution of weight, the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated +fan-fashion from the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in another’s +footsteps. + +There was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation. +The ropes of varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear +those that ran in front of them. For a dog to attack another, +it would have to turn upon one at a shorter rope. In which case +it would find itself face to face with the dog attacked, and also it +would find itself facing the whip of the driver. But the most +peculiar virtue of all lay in the fact that the dog that strove to attack +one in front of him must pull the sled faster, and that the faster the +sled travelled, the faster could the dog attacked run away. Thus, +the dog behind could never catch up with the one in front. The +faster he ran, the faster ran the one he was after, and the faster ran +all the dogs. Incidentally, the sled went faster, and thus, by +cunning indirection, did man increase his mastery over the beasts. + +Mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he possessed. +In the past he had observed Lip-lip’s persecution of White Fang; +but at that time Lip-lip was another man’s dog, and Mit-sah had +never dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him. But now +Lip-lip was his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance on him +by putting him at the end of the longest rope. This made Lip-lip +the leader, and was apparently an honour! but in reality it took away +from him all honour, and instead of being bully and master of the pack, +he now found himself hated and persecuted by the pack. + +Because he ran at the end of the longest rope, the dogs had always +the view of him running away before them. All that they saw of +him was his bushy tail and fleeing hind legs—a view far less ferocious +and intimidating than his bristling mane and gleaming fangs. Also, +dogs being so constituted in their mental ways, the sight of him running +away gave desire to run after him and a feeling that he ran away from +them. + +The moment the sled started, the team took after Lip-lip in a chase +that extended throughout the day. At first he had been prone to +turn upon his pursuers, jealous of his dignity and wrathful; but at +such times Mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot +cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run on. +Lip-lip might face the pack, but he could not face that whip, and all +that was left him to do was to keep his long rope taut and his flanks +ahead of the teeth of his mates. + +But a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the Indian +mind. To give point to unending pursuit of the leader, Mit-sah +favoured him over the other dogs. These favours aroused in them +jealousy and hatred. In their presence Mit-sah would give him +meat and would give it to him only. This was maddening to them. +They would rage around just outside the throwing-distance of the whip, +while Lip-lip devoured the meat and Mit-sah protected him. And +when there was no meat to give, Mit-sah would keep the team at a distance +and make believe to give meat to Lip-lip. + +White Fang took kindly to the work. He had travelled a greater +distance than the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule +of the gods, and he had learned more thoroughly the futility of opposing +their will. In addition, the persecution he had suffered from +the pack had made the pack less to him in the scheme of things, and +man more. He had not learned to be dependent on his kind for companionship. +Besides, Kiche was well-nigh forgotten; and the chief outlet of expression +that remained to him was in the allegiance he tendered the gods he had +accepted as masters. So he worked hard, learned discipline, and +was obedient. Faithfulness and willingness characterised his toil. +These are essential traits of the wolf and the wild-dog when they have +become domesticated, and these traits White Fang possessed in unusual +measure. + +A companionship did exist between White Fang and the other dogs, +but it was one of warfare and enmity. He had never learned to +play with them. He knew only how to fight, and fight with them +he did, returning to them a hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they +had given him in the days when Lip-lip was leader of the pack. +But Lip-lip was no longer leader—except when he fled away before +his mates at the end of his rope, the sled bounding along behind. +In camp he kept close to Mit-sah or Grey Beaver or Kloo-kooch. +He did not dare venture away from the gods, for now the fangs of all +dogs were against him, and he tasted to the dregs the persecution that +had been White Fang’s. + +With the overthrow of Lip-lip, White Fang could have become leader +of the pack. But he was too morose and solitary for that. +He merely thrashed his team-mates. Otherwise he ignored them. +They got out of his way when he came along; nor did the boldest of them +ever dare to rob him of his meat. On the contrary, they devoured +their own meat hurriedly, for fear that he would take it away from them. +White Fang knew the law well: _to oppress the weak and obey the strong_. +He ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could. And then woe +the dog that had not yet finished! A snarl and a flash of fangs, +and that dog would wail his indignation to the uncomforting stars while +White Fang finished his portion for him. + +Every little while, however, one dog or another would flame up in +revolt and be promptly subdued. Thus White Fang was kept in training. +He was jealous of the isolation in which he kept himself in the midst +of the pack, and he fought often to maintain it. But such fights +were of brief duration. He was too quick for the others. +They were slashed open and bleeding before they knew what had happened, +were whipped almost before they had begun to fight. + +As rigid as the sled-discipline of the gods, was the discipline maintained +by White Fang amongst his fellows. He never allowed them any latitude. +He compelled them to an unremitting respect for him. They might +do as they pleased amongst themselves. That was no concern of +his. But it _was_ his concern that they leave him alone in +his isolation, get out of his way when he elected to walk among them, +and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them. A hint of +stiff-leggedness on their part, a lifted lip or a bristle of hair, and +he would be upon them, merciless and cruel, swiftly convincing them +of the error of their way. + +He was a monstrous tyrant. His mastery was rigid as steel. +He oppressed the weak with a vengeance. Not for nothing had he +been exposed to the pitiless struggles for life in the day of his cubhood, +when his mother and he, alone and unaided, held their own and survived +in the ferocious environment of the Wild. And not for nothing +had he learned to walk softly when superior strength went by. +He oppressed the weak, but he respected the strong. And in the +course of the long journey with Grey Beaver he walked softly indeed +amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals +they encountered. + +The months passed by. Still continued the journey of Grey Beaver. +White Fang’s strength was developed by the long hours on trail +and the steady toil at the sled; and it would have seemed that his mental +development was well-nigh complete. He had come to know quite +thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak +and materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal +world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection +and the bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist. + +He had no affection for Grey Beaver. True, he was a god, but +a most savage god. White Fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship, +but it was a lordship based upon superior intelligence and brute strength. +There was something in the fibre of White Fang’s being that made +his lordship a thing to be desired, else he would not have come back +from the Wild when he did to tender his allegiance. There were +deeps in his nature which had never been sounded. A kind word, +a caressing touch of the hand, on the part of Grey Beaver, might have +sounded these deeps; but Grey Beaver did not caress, nor speak kind +words. It was not his way. His primacy was savage, and savagely +he ruled, administering justice with a club, punishing transgression +with the pain of a blow, and rewarding merit, not by kindness, but by +withholding a blow. + +So White Fang knew nothing of the heaven a man’s hand might +contain for him. Besides, he did not like the hands of the man-animals. +He was suspicious of them. It was true that they sometimes gave +meat, but more often they gave hurt. Hands were things to keep +away from. They hurled stones, wielded sticks and clubs and whips, +administered slaps and clouts, and, when they touched him, were cunning +to hurt with pinch and twist and wrench. In strange villages he +had encountered the hands of the children and learned that they were +cruel to hurt. Also, he had once nearly had an eye poked out by +a toddling papoose. From these experiences he became suspicious +of all children. He could not tolerate them. When they came +near with their ominous hands, he got up. + +It was in a village at the Great Slave Lake, that, in the course +of resenting the evil of the hands of the man-animals, he came to modify +the law that he had learned from Grey Beaver: namely, that the unpardonable +crime was to bite one of the gods. In this village, after the +custom of all dogs in all villages, White Fang went foraging, for food. +A boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the chips were +flying in the snow. White Fang, sliding by in quest of meat, stopped +and began to eat the chips. He observed the boy lay down the axe +and take up a stout club. White Fang sprang clear, just in time +to escape the descending blow. The boy pursued him, and he, a +stranger in the village, fled between two tepees to find himself cornered +against a high earth bank. + +There was no escape for White Fang. The only way out was between +the two tepees, and this the boy guarded. Holding his club prepared +to strike, he drew in on his cornered quarry. White Fang was furious. +He faced the boy, bristling and snarling, his sense of justice outraged. +He knew the law of forage. All the wastage of meat, such as the +frozen chips, belonged to the dog that found it. He had done no +wrong, broken no law, yet here was this boy preparing to give him a +beating. White Fang scarcely knew what happened. He did +it in a surge of rage. And he did it so quickly that the boy did +not know either. All the boy knew was that he had in some unaccountable +way been overturned into the snow, and that his club-hand had been ripped +wide open by White Fang’s teeth. + +But White Fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods. +He had driven his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them, and could +expect nothing but a most terrible punishment. He fled away to +Grey Beaver, behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten +boy and the boy’s family came, demanding vengeance. But +they went away with vengeance unsatisfied. Grey Beaver defended +White Fang. So did Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch. White Fang, listening +to the wordy war and watching the angry gestures, knew that his act +was justified. And so it came that he learned there were gods +and gods. There were his gods, and there were other gods, and +between them there was a difference. Justice or injustice, it +was all the same, he must take all things from the hands of his own +gods. But he was not compelled to take injustice from the other +gods. It was his privilege to resent it with his teeth. +And this also was a law of the gods. + +Before the day was out, White Fang was to learn more about this law. +Mit-sah, alone, gathering firewood in the forest, encountered the boy +that had been bitten. With him were other boys. Hot words +passed. Then all the boys attacked Mit-sah. It was going +hard with him. Blows were raining upon him from all sides. +White Fang looked on at first. This was an affair of the gods, +and no concern of his. Then he realised that this was Mit-sah, +one of his own particular gods, who was being maltreated. It was +no reasoned impulse that made White Fang do what he then did. +A mad rush of anger sent him leaping in amongst the combatants. +Five minutes later the landscape was covered with fleeing boys, many +of whom dripped blood upon the snow in token that White Fang’s +teeth had not been idle. When Mit-sah told the story in camp, +Grey Beaver ordered meat to be given to White Fang. He ordered +much meat to be given, and White Fang, gorged and sleepy by the fire, +knew that the law had received its verification. + +It was in line with these experiences that White Fang came to learn +the law of property and the duty of the defence of property. From +the protection of his god’s body to the protection of his god’s +possessions was a step, and this step he made. What was his god’s +was to be defended against all the world—even to the extent of +biting other gods. Not only was such an act sacrilegious in its +nature, but it was fraught with peril. The gods were all-powerful, +and a dog was no match against them; yet White Fang learned to face +them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid. Duty rose above fear, +and thieving gods learned to leave Grey Beaver’s property alone. + +One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt, and that +was that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run +away at the sounding of the alarm. Also, he learned that but brief +time elapsed between his sounding of the alarm and Grey Beaver coming +to his aid. He came to know that it was not fear of him that drove +the thief away, but fear of Grey Beaver. White Fang did not give +the alarm by barking. He never barked. His method was to +drive straight at the intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he could. +Because he was morose and solitary, having nothing to do with the other +dogs, he was unusually fitted to guard his master’s property; +and in this he was encouraged and trained by Grey Beaver. One +result of this was to make White Fang more ferocious and indomitable, +and more solitary. + +The months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant between +dog and man. This was the ancient covenant that the first wolf +that came in from the Wild entered into with man. And, like all +succeeding wolves and wild dogs that had done likewise, White Fang worked +the covenant out for himself. The terms were simple. For +the possession of a flesh-and-blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. +Food and fire, protection and companionship, were some of the things +he received from the god. In return, he guarded the god’s +property, defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him. + +The possession of a god implies service. White Fang’s +was a service of duty and awe, but not of love. He did not know +what love was. He had no experience of love. Kiche was a +remote memory. Besides, not only had he abandoned the Wild and +his kind when he gave himself up to man, but the terms of the covenant +were such that if ever he met Kiche again he would not desert his god +to go with her. His allegiance to man seemed somehow a law of +his being greater than the love of liberty, of kind and kin. + +### The Famine + +The spring of the year was at hand when Grey Beaver finished his +long journey. It was April, and White Fang was a year old when +he pulled into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by +Mit-sah. Though a long way from his full growth, White Fang, next +to Lip-lip, was the largest yearling in the village. Both from +his father, the wolf, and from Kiche, he had inherited stature and strength, +and already he was measuring up alongside the full-grown dogs. +But he had not yet grown compact. His body was slender and rangy, +and his strength more stringy than massive, His coat was the true wolf-grey, +and to all appearances he was true wolf himself. The quarter-strain +of dog he had inherited from Kiche had left no mark on him physically, +though it had played its part in his mental make-up. + +He wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfaction +the various gods he had known before the long journey. Then there +were the dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that +did not look so large and formidable as the memory pictures he retained +of them. Also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, stalking +among them with a certain careless ease that was as new to him as it +was enjoyable. + +There was Baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days +had but to uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching +to the right about. From him White Fang had learned much of his +own insignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change +and development that had taken place in himself. While Baseek +had been growing weaker with age, White Fang had been growing stronger +with youth. + +It was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that White Fang +learned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog-world. +He had got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which quite +a bit of meat was attached. Withdrawn from the immediate scramble +of the other dogs—in fact out of sight behind a thicket—he +was devouring his prize, when Baseek rushed in upon him. Before +he knew what he was doing, he had slashed the intruder twice and sprung +clear. Baseek was surprised by the other’s temerity and +swiftness of attack. He stood, gazing stupidly across at White +Fang, the raw, red shin-bone between them. + +Baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasing valour +of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. Bitter experiences +these, which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to +cope with them. In the old days he would have sprung upon White +Fang in a fury of righteous wrath. But now his waning powers would +not permit such a course. He bristled fiercely and looked ominously +across the shin-bone at White Fang. And White Fang, resurrecting +quite a deal of the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself +and grow small, as he cast about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat +not too inglorious. + +And right here Baseek erred. Had he contented himself with +looking fierce and ominous, all would have been well. White Fang, +on the verge of retreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. +But Baseek did not wait. He considered the victory already his +and stepped forward to the meat. As he bent his head carelessly +to smell it, White Fang bristled slightly. Even then it was not +too late for Baseek to retrieve the situation. Had he merely stood +over the meat, head up and glowering, White Fang would ultimately have +slunk away. But the fresh meat was strong in Baseek’s nostrils, +and greed urged him to take a bite of it. + +This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of +mastery over his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand +idly by while another devoured the meat that belonged to him. +He struck, after his custom, without warning. With the first slash, +Baseek’s right ear was ripped into ribbons. He was astounded +at the suddenness of it. But more things, and most grievous ones, +were happening with equal suddenness. He was knocked off his feet. +His throat was bitten. While he was struggling to his feet the +young dog sank teeth twice into his shoulder. The swiftness of +it was bewildering. He made a futile rush at White Fang, clipping +the empty air with an outraged snap. The next moment his nose +was laid open, and he was staggering backward away from the meat. + +The situation was now reversed. White Fang stood over the shin-bone, +bristling and menacing, while Baseek stood a little way off, preparing +to retreat. He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning-flash, +and again he knew, and more bitterly, the enfeeblement of oncoming age. +His attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic. Calmly turning +his back upon young dog and shin-bone, as though both were beneath his +notice and unworthy of his consideration, he stalked grandly away. +Nor, until well out of sight, did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds. + +The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself, +and a greater pride. He walked less softly among the grown dogs; +his attitude toward them was less compromising. Not that he went +out of his way looking for trouble. Far from it. But upon +his way he demanded consideration. He stood upon his right to +go his way unmolested and to give trail to no dog. He had to be +taken into account, that was all. He was no longer to be disregarded +and ignored, as was the lot of puppies, and as continued to be the lot +of the puppies that were his team-mates. They got out of the way, +gave trail to the grown dogs, and gave up meat to them under compulsion. +But White Fang, uncompanionable, solitary, morose, scarcely looking +to right or left, redoubtable, forbidding of aspect, remote and alien, +was accepted as an equal by his puzzled elders. They quickly learned +to leave him alone, neither venturing hostile acts nor making overtures +of friendliness. If they left him alone, he left them alone—a +state of affairs that they found, after a few encounters, to be pre-eminently +desirable. + +In midsummer White Fang had an experience. Trotting along in +his silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on +the edge of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose, +he came full upon Kiche. He paused and looked at her. He +remembered her vaguely, but he _remembered_ her, and that was more +than could be said for her. She lifted her lip at him in the old +snarl of menace, and his memory became clear. His forgotten cubhood, +all that was associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. +Before he had known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of +the universe. The old familiar feelings of that time came back +upon him, surged up within him. He bounded towards her joyously, +and she met him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to the bone. +He did not understand. He backed away, bewildered and puzzled. + +But it was not Kiche’s fault. A wolf-mother was not made +to remember her cubs of a year or so before. So she did not remember +White Fang. He was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present +litter of puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion. + +One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang. They were half-brothers, +only they did not know it. White Fang sniffed the puppy curiously, +whereupon Kiche rushed upon him, gashing his face a second time. +He backed farther away. All the old memories and associations +died down again and passed into the grave from which they had been resurrected. +He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and stopping now and then to snarl +at him. She was without value to him. He had learned to +get along without her. Her meaning was forgotten. There +was no place for her in his scheme of things, as there was no place +for him in hers. + +He was still standing, stupid and bewildered, the memories forgotten, +wondering what it was all about, when Kiche attacked him a third time, +intent on driving him away altogether from the vicinity. And White +Fang allowed himself to be driven away. This was a female of his +kind, and it was a law of his kind that the males must not fight the +females. He did not know anything about this law, for it was no +generalisation of the mind, not a something acquired by experience of +the world. He knew it as a secret prompting, as an urge of instinct—of +the same instinct that made him howl at the moon and stars of nights, +and that made him fear death and the unknown. + +The months went by. White Fang grew stronger, heavier, and +more compact, while his character was developing along the lines laid +down by his heredity and his environment. His heredity was a life-stuff +that may be likened to clay. It possessed many possibilities, +was capable of being moulded into many different forms. Environment +served to model the clay, to give it a particular form. Thus, +had White Fang never come in to the fires of man, the Wild would have +moulded him into a true wolf. But the gods had given him a different +environment, and he was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish, +but that was a dog and not a wolf. + +And so, according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his +surroundings, his character was being moulded into a certain particular +shape. There was no escaping it. He was becoming more morose, +more uncompanionable, more solitary, more ferocious; while the dogs +were learning more and more that it was better to be at peace with him +than at war, and Grey Beaver was coming to prize him more greatly with +the passage of each day. + +White Fang, seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities, nevertheless +suffered from one besetting weakness. He could not stand being +laughed at. The laughter of men was a hateful thing. They +might laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except himself, +and he did not mind. But the moment laughter was turned upon him +he would fly into a most terrible rage. Grave, dignified, sombre, +a laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness. It so outraged him +and upset him that for hours he would behave like a demon. And +woe to the dog that at such times ran foul of him. He knew the +law too well to take it out of Grey Beaver; behind Grey Beaver were +a club and godhead. But behind the dogs there was nothing but +space, and into this space they flew when White Fang came on the scene, +made mad by laughter. + +In the third year of his life there came a great famine to the Mackenzie +Indians. In the summer the fish failed. In the winter the +cariboo forsook their accustomed track. Moose were scarce, the +rabbits almost disappeared, hunting and preying animals perished. +Denied their usual food-supply, weakened by hunger, they fell upon and +devoured one another. Only the strong survived. White Fang’s +gods were always hunting animals. The old and the weak of them +died of hunger. There was wailing in the village, where the women +and children went without in order that what little they had might go +into the bellies of the lean and hollow-eyed hunters who trod the forest +in the vain pursuit of meat. + +To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft-tanned +leather of their mocassins and mittens, while the dogs ate the harnesses +off their backs and the very whip-lashes. Also, the dogs ate one +another, and also the gods ate the dogs. The weakest and the more +worthless were eaten first. The dogs that still lived, looked +on and understood. A few of the boldest and wisest forsook the +fires of the gods, which had now become a shambles, and fled into the +forest, where, in the end, they starved to death or were eaten by wolves. + +In this time of misery, White Fang, too, stole away into the woods. +He was better fitted for the life than the other dogs, for he had the +training of his cubhood to guide him. Especially adept did he +become in stalking small living things. He would lie concealed +for hours, following every movement of a cautious tree-squirrel, waiting, +with a patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from, until the squirrel +ventured out upon the ground. Even then, White Fang was not premature. +He waited until he was sure of striking before the squirrel could gain +a tree-refuge. Then, and not until then, would he flash from his +hiding-place, a grey projectile, incredibly swift, never failing its +mark—the fleeing squirrel that fled not fast enough. + +Successful as he was with squirrels, there was one difficulty that +prevented him from living and growing fat on them. There were +not enough squirrels. So he was driven to hunt still smaller things. +So acute did his hunger become at times that he was not above rooting +out wood-mice from their burrows in the ground. Nor did he scorn +to do battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times more +ferocious. + +In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of +the gods. But he did not go into the fires. He lurked in +the forest, avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals +when game was caught. He even robbed Grey Beaver’s snare +of a rabbit at a time when Grey Beaver staggered and tottered through +the forest, sitting down often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness +of breath. + +One day While Fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, loose-jointed +with famine. Had he not been hungry himself, White Fang might +have gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack amongst +his wild brethren. As it was, he ran the young wolf down and killed +and ate him. + +Fortune seemed to favour him. Always, when hardest pressed +for food, he found something to kill. Again, when he was weak, +it was his luck that none of the larger preying animals chanced upon +him. Thus, he was strong from the two days’ eating a lynx +had afforded him when the hungry wolf-pack ran full tilt upon him. +It was a long, cruel chase, but he was better nourished than they, and +in the end outran them. And not only did he outrun them, but, +circling widely back on his track, he gathered in one of his exhausted +pursuers. + +After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to +the valley wherein he had been born. Here, in the old lair, he +encountered Kiche. Up to her old tricks, she, too, had fled the +inhospitable fires of the gods and gone back to her old refuge to give +birth to her young. Of this litter but one remained alive when +White Fang came upon the scene, and this one was not destined to live +long. Young life had little chance in such a famine. + +Kiche’s greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate. +But White Fang did not mind. He had outgrown his mother. +So he turned tail philosophically and trotted on up the stream. +At the forks he took the turning to the left, where he found the lair +of the lynx with whom his mother and he had fought long before. +Here, in the abandoned lair, he settled down and rested for a day. + +During the early summer, in the last days of the famine, he met Lip-lip, +who had likewise taken to the woods, where he had eked out a miserable +existence. + +White Fang came upon him unexpectedly. Trotting in opposite +directions along the base of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of +rock and found themselves face to face. They paused with instant +alarm, and looked at each other suspiciously. + +White Fang was in splendid condition. His hunting had been +good, and for a week he had eaten his fill. He was even gorged +from his latest kill. But in the moment he looked at Lip-lip his +hair rose on end all along his back. It was an involuntary bristling +on his part, the physical state that in the past had always accompanied +the mental state produced in him by Lip-lip’s bullying and persecution. +As in the past he had bristled and snarled at sight of Lip-lip, so now, +and automatically, he bristled and snarled. He did not waste any +time. The thing was done thoroughly and with despatch. Lip-lip +essayed to back away, but White Fang struck him hard, shoulder to shoulder. +Lip-lip was overthrown and rolled upon his back. White Fang’s +teeth drove into the scrawny throat. There was a death-struggle, +during which White Fang walked around, stiff-legged and observant. +Then he resumed his course and trotted on along the base of the bluff. + +One day, not long after, he came to the edge of the forest, where +a narrow stretch of open land sloped down to the Mackenzie. He +had been over this ground before, when it was bare, but now a village +occupied it. Still hidden amongst the trees, he paused to study +the situation. Sights and sounds and scents were familiar to him. +It was the old village changed to a new place. But sights and +sounds and smells were different from those he had last had when he +fled away from it. There was no whimpering nor wailing. +Contented sounds saluted his ear, and when he heard the angry voice +of a woman he knew it to be the anger that proceeds from a full stomach. +And there was a smell in the air of fish. There was food. +The famine was gone. He came out boldly from the forest and trotted +into camp straight to Grey Beaver’s tepee. Grey Beaver was +not there; but Kloo-kooch welcomed him with glad cries and the whole +of a fresh-caught fish, and he lay down to wait Grey Beaver’s +coming. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c6ec5e --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.html @@ -0,0 +1,2182 @@ + + + + + Part IV + + + + +
+

+
+

The Enemy of His Kind

+

+ Had there been in White Fang’s nature any possibility, no matter how + remote, of his ever coming to fraternise with his kind, such + possibility was irretrievably destroyed when he was made leader of the + sled-team. For now the dogs hated him—hated him for the extra meat + bestowed upon him by Mit-sah; hated him for all the real and fancied + favours he received; hated him for that he fled always at the head of + the team, his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually retreating + hind-quarters for ever maddening their eyes. +

+

+ And White Fang just as bitterly hated them back. Being sled-leader was + anything but gratifying to him. To be compelled to run away before the + yelling pack, every dog of which, for three years, he had thrashed and + mastered, was almost more than he could endure. But endure it he must, + or perish, and the life that was in him had no desire to perish out. + The moment Mit-sah gave his order for the start, that moment the whole + team, with eager, savage cries, sprang forward at White Fang. +

+

+ There was no defence for him. If he turned upon them, Mit-sah would + throw the stinging lash of the whip into his face. Only remained to + him to run away. He could not encounter that howling horde with his + tail and hind-quarters. These were scarcely fit weapons with which to + meet the many merciless fangs. So run away he did, violating his own + nature and pride with every leap he made, and leaping all day long. +

+

+ One cannot violate the promptings of one’s nature without having that + nature recoil upon itself. Such a recoil is like that of a hair, made + to grow out from the body, turning unnaturally upon the direction of + its growth and growing into the body—a rankling, festering thing of + hurt. And so with White Fang. Every urge of his being impelled him to + spring upon the pack that cried at his heels, but it was the will of + the gods that this should not be; and behind the will, to enforce it, + was the whip of cariboo-gut with its biting thirty-foot lash. So White + Fang could only eat his heart in bitterness and develop a hatred and + malice commensurate with the ferocity and indomitability of his + nature. +

+

+ If ever a creature was the enemy of its kind, White Fang was that + creature. He asked no quarter, gave none. He was continually marred + and scarred by the teeth of the pack, and as continually he left his + own marks upon the pack. Unlike most leaders, who, when camp was made + and the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to the gods for protection, + White Fang disdained such protection. He walked boldly about the camp, + inflicting punishment in the night for what he had suffered in the + day. In the time before he was made leader of the team, the pack had + learned to get out of his way. But now it was different. Excited by + the day-long pursuit of him, swayed subconsciously by the insistent + iteration on their brains of the sight of him fleeing away, mastered + by the feeling of mastery enjoyed all day, the dogs could not bring + themselves to give way to him. When he appeared amongst them, there + was always a squabble. His progress was marked by snarl and snap and + growl. The very atmosphere he breathed was surcharged with hatred and + malice, and this but served to increase the hatred and malice within + him. +

+

+ When Mit-sah cried out his command for the team to stop, White Fang + obeyed. At first this caused trouble for the other dogs. All of them + would spring upon the hated leader only to find the tables turned. + Behind him would be Mit-sah, the great whip singing in his hand. So + the dogs came to understand that when the team stopped by order, White + Fang was to be let alone. But when White Fang stopped without orders, + then it was allowed them to spring upon him and destroy him if they + could. After several experiences, White Fang never stopped without + orders. He learned quickly. It was in the nature of things, that he + must learn quickly if he were to survive the unusually severe + conditions under which life was vouchsafed him. +

+

+ But the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in camp. + Each day, pursuing him and crying defiance at him, the lesson of the + previous night was erased, and that night would have to be learned + over again, to be as immediately forgotten. Besides, there was a + greater consistence in their dislike of him. They sensed between + themselves and him a difference of kind—cause sufficient in itself for + hostility. Like him, they were domesticated wolves. But they had been + domesticated for generations. Much of the Wild had been lost, so that + to them the Wild was the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing and + ever warring. But to him, in appearance and action and impulse, still + clung the Wild. He symbolised it, was its personification: so that + when they showed their teeth to him they were defending themselves + against the powers of destruction that lurked in the shadows of the + forest and in the dark beyond the camp-fire. +

+

+ But there was one lesson the dogs did learn, and that was to keep + together. White Fang was too terrible for any of them to face + single-handed. They met him with the mass-formation, otherwise he + would have killed them, one by one, in a night. As it was, he never + had a chance to kill them. He might roll a dog off its feet, but the + pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver the + deadly throat-stroke. At the first hint of conflict, the whole team + drew together and faced him. The dogs had quarrels among themselves, + but these were forgotten when trouble was brewing with White Fang. +

+

+ On the other hand, try as they would, they could not kill White Fang. + He was too quick for them, too formidable, too wise. He avoided tight + places and always backed out of it when they bade fair to surround + him. While, as for getting him off his feet, there was no dog among + them capable of doing the trick. His feet clung to the earth with the + same tenacity that he clung to life. For that matter, life and footing + were synonymous in this unending warfare with the pack, and none knew + it better than White Fang. +

+

+ So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they + were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow + of man’s strength. White Fang was bitter and implacable. The clay of + him was so moulded. He declared a vendetta against all dogs. And so + terribly did he live this vendetta that Grey Beaver, fierce savage + himself, could not but marvel at White Fang’s ferocity. Never, he + swore, had there been the like of this animal; and the Indians in + strange villages swore likewise when they considered the tale of his + killings amongst their dogs. +

+

+ When White Fang was nearly five years old, Grey Beaver took him on + another great journey, and long remembered was the havoc he worked + amongst the dogs of the many villages along the Mackenzie, across the + Rockies, and down the Porcupine to the Yukon. He revelled in the + vengeance he wreaked upon his kind. They were ordinary, unsuspecting + dogs. They were not prepared for his swiftness and directness, for his + attack without warning. They did not know him for what he was, a + lightning-flash of slaughter. They bristled up to him, stiff-legged + and challenging, while he, wasting no time on elaborate preliminaries, + snapping into action like a steel spring, was at their throats and + destroying them before they knew what was happening and while they + were yet in the throes of surprise. +

+

+ He became an adept at fighting. He economised. He never wasted his + strength, never tussled. He was in too quickly for that, and, if he + missed, was out again too quickly. The dislike of the wolf for close + quarters was his to an unusual degree. He could not endure a prolonged + contact with another body. It smacked of danger. It made him frantic. + He must be away, free, on his own legs, touching no living thing. It + was the Wild still clinging to him, asserting itself through him. This + feeling had been accentuated by the Ishmaelite life he had led from + his puppyhood. Danger lurked in contacts. It was the trap, ever the + trap, the fear of it lurking deep in the life of him, woven into the + fibre of him. +

+

+ In consequence, the strange dogs he encountered had no chance against + him. He eluded their fangs. He got them, or got away, himself + untouched in either event. In the natural course of things there were + exceptions to this. There were times when several dogs, pitching on to + him, punished him before he could get away; and there were times when + a single dog scored deeply on him. But these were accidents. In the + main, so efficient a fighter had he become, he went his way unscathed. +

+

+ Another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time and + distance. Not that he did this consciously, however. He did not + calculate such things. It was all automatic. His eyes saw correctly, + and the nerves carried the vision correctly to his brain. The parts of + him were better adjusted than those of the average dog. They worked + together more smoothly and steadily. His was a better, far better, + nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordination. When his eyes conveyed to + his brain the moving image of an action, his brain without conscious + effort, knew the space that limited that action and the time required + for its completion. Thus, he could avoid the leap of another dog, or + the drive of its fangs, and at the same moment could seize the + infinitesimal fraction of time in which to deliver his own attack. + Body and brain, his was a more perfected mechanism. Not that he was to + be praised for it. Nature had been more generous to him than to the + average animal, that was all. +

+

+ It was in the summer that White Fang arrived at Fort Yukon. Grey + Beaver had crossed the great watershed between Mackenzie and the Yukon + in the late winter, and spent the spring in hunting among the western + outlying spurs of the Rockies. Then, after the break-up of the ice on + the Porcupine, he had built a canoe and paddled down that stream to + where it effected its junction with the Yukon just under the Artic + circle. Here stood the old Hudson’s Bay Company fort; and here were + many Indians, much food, and unprecedented excitement. It was the + summer of 1898, and thousands of gold-hunters were going up the Yukon + to Dawson and the Klondike. Still hundreds of miles from their goal, + nevertheless many of them had been on the way for a year, and the + least any of them had travelled to get that far was five thousand + miles, while some had come from the other side of the world. +

+

+ Here Grey Beaver stopped. A whisper of the gold-rush had reached his + ears, and he had come with several bales of furs, and another of + gut-sewn mittens and moccasins. He would not have ventured so long a + trip had he not expected generous profits. But what he had expected + was nothing to what he realised. His wildest dreams had not exceeded a + hundred per cent. profit; he made a thousand per cent. And like a true + Indian, he settled down to trade carefully and slowly, even if it took + all summer and the rest of the winter to dispose of his goods. +

+

+ It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw his first white men. As + compared with the Indians he had known, they were to him another race + of beings, a race of superior gods. They impressed him as possessing + superior power, and it is on power that godhead rests. White Fang did + not reason it out, did not in his mind make the sharp generalisation + that the white gods were more powerful. It was a feeling, nothing + more, and yet none the less potent. As, in his puppyhood, the looming + bulks of the tepees, man-reared, had affected him as manifestations of + power, so was he affected now by the houses and the huge fort all of + massive logs. Here was power. Those white gods were strong. They + possessed greater mastery over matter than the gods he had known, most + powerful among which was Grey Beaver. And yet Grey Beaver was as a + child-god among these white-skinned ones. +

+

+ To be sure, White Fang only felt these things. He was not conscious of + them. Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that animals + act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon the feeling + that the white men were the superior gods. In the first place he was + very suspicious of them. There was no telling what unknown terrors + were theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer. He was curious + to observe them, fearful of being noticed by them. For the first few + hours he was content with slinking around and watching them from a + safe distance. Then he saw that no harm befell the dogs that were near + to them, and he came in closer. +

+

+ In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. His wolfish + appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one + another. This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and when + they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. Not + one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they did + not. +

+

+ White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods—not more than a + dozen—lived at this place. Every two or three days a steamer (another + and colossal manifestation of power) came into the bank and stopped + for several hours. The white men came from off these steamers and went + away on them again. There seemed untold numbers of these white men. In + the first day or so, he saw more of them than he had seen Indians in + all his life; and as the days went by they continued to come up the + river, stop, and then go on up the river out of sight. +

+

+ But if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount to + much. This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those that + came ashore with their masters. They were irregular shapes and sizes. + Some were short-legged—too short; others were long-legged—too long. + They had hair instead of fur, and a few had very little hair at that. + And none of them knew how to fight. +

+

+ As an enemy of his kind, it was in White Fang’s province to fight with + them. This he did, and he quickly achieved for them a mighty contempt. + They were soft and helpless, made much noise, and floundered around + clumsily trying to accomplish by main strength what he accomplished by + dexterity and cunning. They rushed bellowing at him. He sprang to the + side. They did not know what had become of him; and in that moment he + struck them on the shoulder, rolling them off their feet and + delivering his stroke at the throat. +

+

+ Sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in the + dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of Indian dogs + that waited. White Fang was wise. He had long since learned that the + gods were made angry when their dogs were killed. The white men were + no exception to this. So he was content, when he had overthrown and + slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, to drop back and let the + pack go in and do the cruel finishing work. It was then that the white + men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily on the pack, while White + Fang went free. He would stand off at a little distance and look on, + while stones, clubs, axes, and all sorts of weapons fell upon his + fellows. White Fang was very wise. +

+

+ But his fellows grew wise in their own way; and in this White Fang + grew wise with them. They learned that it was when a steamer first + tied to the bank that they had their fun. After the first two or three + strange dogs had been downed and destroyed, the white men hustled + their own animals back on board and wrecked savage vengeance on the + offenders. One white man, having seen his dog, a setter, torn to + pieces before his eyes, drew a revolver. He fired rapidly, six times, + and six of the pack lay dead or dying—another manifestation of power + that sank deep into White Fang’s consciousness. +

+

+ White Fang enjoyed it all. He did not love his kind, and he was shrewd + enough to escape hurt himself. At first, the killing of the white + men’s dogs had been a diversion. After a time it became his + occupation. There was no work for him to do. Grey Beaver was busy + trading and getting wealthy. So White Fang hung around the landing + with the disreputable gang of Indian dogs, waiting for steamers. With + the arrival of a steamer the fun began. After a few minutes, by the + time the white men had got over their surprise, the gang scattered. + The fun was over until the next steamer should arrive. +

+

+ But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the gang. + He did not mingle with it, but remained aloof, always himself, and was + even feared by it. It is true, he worked with it. He picked the + quarrel with the strange dog while the gang waited. And when he had + overthrown the strange dog the gang went in to finish it. But it is + equally true that he then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive the + punishment of the outraged gods. +

+

+ It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels. All he had to + do, when the strange dogs came ashore, was to show himself. When they + saw him they rushed for him. It was their instinct. He was the + Wild—the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing, the thing that + prowled in the darkness around the fires of the primeval world when + they, cowering close to the fires, were reshaping their instincts, + learning to fear the Wild out of which they had come, and which they + had deserted and betrayed. Generation by generation, down all the + generations, had this fear of the Wild been stamped into their + natures. For centuries the Wild had stood for terror and destruction. + And during all this time free licence had been theirs, from their + masters, to kill the things of the Wild. In doing this they had + protected both themselves and the gods whose companionship they + shared. +

+

+ And so, fresh from the soft southern world, these dogs, trotting down + the gang-plank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see White Fang + to experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy + him. They might be town-reared dogs, but the instinctive fear of the + Wild was theirs just the same. Not alone with their own eyes did they + see the wolfish creature in the clear light of day, standing before + them. They saw him with the eyes of their ancestors, and by their + inherited memory they knew White Fang for the wolf, and they + remembered the ancient feud. +

+

+ All of which served to make White Fang’s days enjoyable. If the sight + of him drove these strange dogs upon him, so much the better for him, + so much the worse for them. They looked upon him as legitimate prey, + and as legitimate prey he looked upon them. +

+

+ Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair + and fought his first fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel, and the + lynx. And not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by the + persecution of Lip-lip and the whole puppy pack. It might have been + otherwise, and he would then have been otherwise. Had Lip-lip not + existed, he would have passed his puppyhood with the other puppies and + grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs. Had Grey Beaver + possessed the plummet of affection and love, he might have sounded the + deeps of White Fang’s nature and brought up to the surface all manner + of kindly qualities. But these things had not been so. The clay of + White Fang had been moulded until he became what he was, morose and + lonely, unloving and ferocious, the enemy of all his kind. +

+
+
+

The Mad God

+

+ A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon. These men had been + long in the country. They called themselves Sour-doughs, and took + great pride in so classifying themselves. For other men, new in the + land, they felt nothing but disdain. The men who came ashore from the + steamers were newcomers. They were known as chechaquos, and + they always wilted at the application of the name. They made their + bread with baking-powder. This was the invidious distinction between + them and the Sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made their bread from + sour-dough because they had no baking-powder. +

+

+ All of which is neither here nor there. The men in the fort disdained + the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief. Especially did + they enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers’ dogs by White Fang + and his disreputable gang. When a steamer arrived, the men of the fort + made it a point always to come down to the bank and see the fun. They + looked forward to it with as much anticipation as did the Indian dogs, + while they were not slow to appreciate the savage and crafty part + played by White Fang. +

+

+ But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the sport. + He would come running at the first sound of a steamboat’s whistle; and + when the last fight was over and White Fang and the pack had + scattered, he would return slowly to the fort, his face heavy with + regret. Sometimes, when a soft southland dog went down, shrieking its + death-cry under the fangs of the pack, this man would be unable to + contain himself, and would leap into the air and cry out with delight. + And always he had a sharp and covetous eye for White Fang. +

+

+ This man was called “Beauty” by the other men of the fort. No one knew + his first name, and in general he was known in the country as Beauty + Smith. But he was anything save a beauty. To antithesis was due his + naming. He was pre-eminently unbeautiful. Nature had been niggardly + with him. He was a small man to begin with; and upon his meagre frame + was deposited an even more strikingly meagre head. Its apex might be + likened to a point. In fact, in his boyhood, before he had been named + Beauty by his fellows, he had been called “Pinhead.” +

+

+ Backward, from the apex, his head slanted down to his neck and forward + it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide + forehead. Beginning here, as though regretting her parsimony, Nature + had spread his features with a lavish hand. His eyes were large, and + between them was the distance of two eyes. His face, in relation to + the rest of him, was prodigious. In order to discover the necessary + area, Nature had given him an enormous prognathous jaw. It was wide + and heavy, and protruded outward and down until it seemed to rest on + his chest. Possibly this appearance was due to the weariness of the + slender neck, unable properly to support so great a burden. +

+

+ This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination. But something + lacked. Perhaps it was from excess. Perhaps the jaw was too large. At + any rate, it was a lie. Beauty Smith was known far and wide as the + weakest of weak-kneed and snivelling cowards. To complete his + description, his teeth were large and yellow, while the two eye-teeth, + larger than their fellows, showed under his lean lips like fangs. His + eyes were yellow and muddy, as though Nature had run short on pigments + and squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes. It was the same with + his hair, sparse and irregular of growth, muddy-yellow and + dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting out of his face in + unexpected tufts and bunches, in appearance like clumped and + wind-blown grain. +

+

+ In short, Beauty Smith was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay + elsewhere. He was not responsible. The clay of him had been so moulded + in the making. He did the cooking for the other men in the fort, the + dish-washing and the drudgery. They did not despise him. Rather did + they tolerate him in a broad human way, as one tolerates any creature + evilly treated in the making. Also, they feared him. His cowardly + rages made them dread a shot in the back or poison in their coffee. + But somebody had to do the cooking, and whatever else his + shortcomings, Beauty Smith could cook. +

+

+ This was the man that looked at White Fang, delighted in his ferocious + prowess, and desired to possess him. He made overtures to White Fang + from the first. White Fang began by ignoring him. Later on, when the + overtures became more insistent, White Fang bristled and bared his + teeth and backed away. He did not like the man. The feel of him was + bad. He sensed the evil in him, and feared the extended hand and the + attempts at soft-spoken speech. Because of all this, he hated the man. +

+

+ With the simpler creatures, good and bad are things simply understood. + The good stands for all things that bring easement and satisfaction + and surcease from pain. Therefore, the good is liked. The bad stands + for all things that are fraught with discomfort, menace, and hurt, and + is hated accordingly. White Fang’s feel of Beauty Smith was bad. From + the man’s distorted body and twisted mind, in occult ways, like mists + rising from malarial marshes, came emanations of the unhealth within. + Not by reasoning, not by the five senses alone, but by other and + remoter and uncharted senses, came the feeling to White Fang that the + man was ominous with evil, pregnant with hurtfulness, and therefore a + thing bad, and wisely to be hated. +

+

+ White Fang was in Grey Beaver’s camp when Beauty Smith first visited + it. At the faint sound of his distant feet, before he came in sight, + White Fang knew who was coming and began to bristle. He had been lying + down in an abandon of comfort, but he arose quickly, and, as the man + arrived, slid away in true wolf-fashion to the edge of the camp. He + did not know what they said, but he could see the man and Grey Beaver + talking together. Once, the man pointed at him, and White Fang snarled + back as though the hand were just descending upon him instead of + being, as it was, fifty feet away. The man laughed at this; and White + Fang slunk away to the sheltering woods, his head turned to observe as + he glided softly over the ground. +

+

+ Grey Beaver refused to sell the dog. He had grown rich with his + trading and stood in need of nothing. Besides, White Fang was a + valuable animal, the strongest sled-dog he had ever owned, and the + best leader. Furthermore, there was no dog like him on the Mackenzie + nor the Yukon. He could fight. He killed other dogs as easily as men + killed mosquitoes. (Beauty Smith’s eyes lighted up at this, and he + licked his thin lips with an eager tongue). No, White Fang was not for + sale at any price. +

+

+ But Beauty Smith knew the ways of Indians. He visited Grey Beaver’s + camp often, and hidden under his coat was always a black bottle or so. + One of the potencies of whisky is the breeding of thirst. Grey Beaver + got the thirst. His fevered membranes and burnt stomach began to + clamour for more and more of the scorching fluid; while his brain, + thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant, permitted him to go any + length to obtain it. The money he had received for his furs and + mittens and moccasins began to go. It went faster and faster, and the + shorter his money-sack grew, the shorter grew his temper. +

+

+ In the end his money and goods and temper were all gone. Nothing + remained to him but his thirst, a prodigious possession in itself that + grew more prodigious with every sober breath he drew. Then it was that + Beauty Smith had talk with him again about the sale of White Fang; but + this time the price offered was in bottles, not dollars, and Grey + Beaver’s ears were more eager to hear. +

+

+ “You ketch um dog you take um all right,” was his last word. +

+

+ The bottles were delivered, but after two days. “You ketch um dog,” + were Beauty Smith’s words to Grey Beaver. +

+

+ White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh of + content. The dreaded white god was not there. For days his + manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing more + insistent, and during that time White Fang had been compelled to avoid + the camp. He did not know what evil was threatened by those insistent + hands. He knew only that they did threaten evil of some sort, and that + it was best for him to keep out of their reach. +

+

+ But scarcely had he lain down when Grey Beaver staggered over to him + and tied a leather thong around his neck. He sat down beside White + Fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. In the other hand he + held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted above his head + to the accompaniment of gurgling noises. +

+

+ An hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with + the ground foreran the one who approached. White Fang heard it first, + and he was bristling with recognition while Grey Beaver still nodded + stupidly. White Fang tried to draw the thong softly out of his + master’s hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and Grey Beaver + roused himself. +

+

+ Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang. He snarled + softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the deportment of the + hands. One hand extended outward and began to descend upon his head. + His soft snarl grew tense and harsh. The hand continued slowly to + descend, while he crouched beneath it, eyeing it malignantly, his + snarl growing shorter and shorter as, with quickening breath, it + approached its culmination. Suddenly he snapped, striking with his + fangs like a snake. The hand was jerked back, and the teeth came + together emptily with a sharp click. Beauty Smith was frightened and + angry. Grey Beaver clouted White Fang alongside the head, so that he + cowered down close to the earth in respectful obedience. +

+

+ White Fang’s suspicious eyes followed every movement. He saw Beauty + Smith go away and return with a stout club. Then the end of the thong + was given over to him by Grey Beaver. Beauty Smith started to walk + away. The thong grew taut. White Fang resisted it. Grey Beaver clouted + him right and left to make him get up and follow. He obeyed, but with + a rush, hurling himself upon the stranger who was dragging him away. + Beauty Smith did not jump away. He had been waiting for this. He swung + the club smartly, stopping the rush midway and smashing White Fang + down upon the ground. Grey Beaver laughed and nodded approval. Beauty + Smith tightened the thong again, and White Fang crawled limply and + dizzily to his feet. +

+

+ He did not rush a second time. One smash from the club was sufficient + to convince him that the white god knew how to handle it, and he was + too wise to fight the inevitable. So he followed morosely at Beauty + Smith’s heels, his tail between his legs, yet snarling softly under + his breath. But Beauty Smith kept a wary eye on him, and the club was + held always ready to strike. +

+

+ At the fort Beauty Smith left him securely tied and went in to bed. + White Fang waited an hour. Then he applied his teeth to the thong, and + in the space of ten seconds was free. He had wasted no time with his + teeth. There had been no useless gnawing. The thong was cut across, + diagonally, almost as clean as though done by a knife. White Fang + looked up at the fort, at the same time bristling and growling. Then + he turned and trotted back to Grey Beaver’s camp. He owed no + allegiance to this strange and terrible god. He had given himself to + Grey Beaver, and to Grey Beaver he considered he still belonged. +

+

+ But what had occurred before was repeated—with a difference. Grey + Beaver again made him fast with a thong, and in the morning turned him + over to Beauty Smith. And here was where the difference came in. + Beauty Smith gave him a beating. Tied securely, White Fang could only + rage futilely and endure the punishment. Club and whip were both used + upon him, and he experienced the worst beating he had ever received in + his life. Even the big beating given him in his puppyhood by Grey + Beaver was mild compared with this. +

+

+ Beauty Smith enjoyed the task. He delighted in it. He gloated over his + victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung the whip or club and + listened to White Fang’s cries of pain and to his helpless bellows and + snarls. For Beauty Smith was cruel in the way that cowards are cruel. + Cringing and snivelling himself before the blows or angry speech of a + man, he revenged himself, in turn, upon creatures weaker than he. All + life likes power, and Beauty Smith was no exception. Denied the + expression of power amongst his own kind, he fell back upon the lesser + creatures and there vindicated the life that was in him. But Beauty + Smith had not created himself, and no blame was to be attached to him. + He had come into the world with a twisted body and a brute + intelligence. This had constituted the clay of him, and it had not + been kindly moulded by the world. +

+

+ White Fang knew why he was being beaten. When Grey Beaver tied the + thong around his neck, and passed the end of the thong into Beauty + Smith’s keeping, White Fang knew that it was his god’s will for him to + go with Beauty Smith. And when Beauty Smith left him tied outside the + fort, he knew that it was Beauty Smith’s will that he should remain + there. Therefore, he had disobeyed the will of both the gods, and + earned the consequent punishment. He had seen dogs change owners in + the past, and he had seen the runaways beaten as he was being beaten. + He was wise, and yet in the nature of him there were forces greater + than wisdom. One of these was fidelity. He did not love Grey Beaver, + yet, even in the face of his will and his anger, he was faithful to + him. He could not help it. This faithfulness was a quality of the clay + that composed him. It was the quality that was peculiarly the + possession of his kind; the quality that set apart his species from + all other species; the quality that has enabled the wolf and the wild + dog to come in from the open and be the companions of man. +

+

+ After the beating, White Fang was dragged back to the fort. But this + time Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick. One does not give up a + god easily, and so with White Fang. Grey Beaver was his own particular + god, and, in spite of Grey Beaver’s will, White Fang still clung to + him and would not give him up. Grey Beaver had betrayed and forsaken + him, but that had no effect upon him. Not for nothing had he + surrendered himself body and soul to Grey Beaver. There had been no + reservation on White Fang’s part, and the bond was not to be broken + easily. +

+

+ So, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, White Fang + applied his teeth to the stick that held him. The wood was seasoned + and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely + get his teeth to it. It was only by the severest muscular exertion and + neck-arching that he succeeded in getting the wood between his teeth, + and barely between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise + of an immense patience, extending through many hours, that he + succeeded in gnawing through the stick. This was something that dogs + were not supposed to do. It was unprecedented. But White Fang did it, + trotting away from the fort in the early morning, with the end of the + stick hanging to his neck. +

+

+ He was wise. But had he been merely wise he would not have gone back + to Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him. But there was his + faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third time. Again + he yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck by Grey Beaver, and + again Beauty Smith came to claim him. And this time he was beaten even + more severely than before. +

+

+ Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. + He gave no protection. It was no longer his dog. When the beating was + over White Fang was sick. A soft southland dog would have died under + it, but not he. His school of life had been sterner, and he was + himself of sterner stuff. He had too great vitality. His clutch on + life was too strong. But he was very sick. At first he was unable to + drag himself along, and Beauty Smith had to wait half-an-hour for him. + And then, blind and reeling, he followed at Beauty Smith’s heels back + to the fort. +

+

+ But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth, and he strove + in vain, by lunging, to draw the staple from the timber into which it + was driven. After a few days, sober and bankrupt, Grey Beaver departed + up the Porcupine on his long journey to the Mackenzie. White Fang + remained on the Yukon, the property of a man more than half mad and + all brute. But what is a dog to know in its consciousness of madness? + To White Fang, Beauty Smith was a veritable, if terrible, god. He was + a mad god at best, but White Fang knew nothing of madness; he knew + only that he must submit to the will of this new master, obey his + every whim and fancy. +

+
+
+

The Reign of Hate

+

+ Under the tutelage of the mad god, White Fang became a fiend. He was + kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and here Beauty Smith + teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments. The man + early discovered White Fang’s susceptibility to laughter, and made it + a point after painfully tricking him, to laugh at him. This laughter + was uproarious and scornful, and at the same time the god pointed his + finger derisively at White Fang. At such times reason fled from White + Fang, and in his transports of rage he was even more mad than Beauty + Smith. +

+

+ Formerly, White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind, withal a + ferocious enemy. He now became the enemy of all things, and more + ferocious than ever. To such an extent was he tormented, that he hated + blindly and without the faintest spark of reason. He hated the chain + that bound him, the men who peered in at him through the slats of the + pen, the dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled malignantly at + him in his helplessness. He hated the very wood of the pen that + confined him. And, first, last, and most of all, he hated Beauty + Smith. +

+

+ But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang. One + day a number of men gathered about the pen. Beauty Smith entered, club + in hand, and took the chain off from White Fang’s neck. When his + master had gone out, White Fang turned loose and tore around the pen, + trying to get at the men outside. He was magnificently terrible. Fully + five feet in length, and standing two and one-half feet at the + shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding size. From his + mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of the dog, so that he + weighed, without any fat and without an ounce of superfluous flesh, + over ninety pounds. It was all muscle, bone, and sinew-fighting flesh + in the finest condition. +

+

+ The door of the pen was being opened again. White Fang paused. + Something unusual was happening. He waited. The door was opened wider. + Then a huge dog was thrust inside, and the door was slammed shut + behind him. White Fang had never seen such a dog (it was a mastiff); + but the size and fierce aspect of the intruder did not deter him. Here + was some thing, not wood nor iron, upon which to wreak his hate. He + leaped in with a flash of fangs that ripped down the side of the + mastiff’s neck. The mastiff shook his head, growled hoarsely, and + plunged at White Fang. But White Fang was here, there, and everywhere, + always evading and eluding, and always leaping in and slashing with + his fangs and leaping out again in time to escape punishment. +

+

+ The men outside shouted and applauded, while Beauty Smith, in an + ecstasy of delight, gloated over the ripping and mangling performed by + White Fang. There was no hope for the mastiff from the first. He was + too ponderous and slow. In the end, while Beauty Smith beat White Fang + back with a club, the mastiff was dragged out by its owner. Then there + was a payment of bets, and money clinked in Beauty Smith’s hand. +

+

+ White Fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men + around his pen. It meant a fight; and this was the only way that was + now vouchsafed him of expressing the life that was in him. Tormented, + incited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so that there was no way of + satisfying that hate except at the times his master saw fit to put + another dog against him. Beauty Smith had estimated his powers well, + for he was invariably the victor. One day, three dogs were turned in + upon him in succession. Another day a full-grown wolf, fresh-caught + from the Wild, was shoved in through the door of the pen. And on still + another day two dogs were set against him at the same time. This was + his severest fight, and though in the end he killed them both he was + himself half killed in doing it. +

+

+ In the fall of the year, when the first snows were falling and + mush-ice was running in the river, Beauty Smith took passage for + himself and White Fang on a steamboat bound up the Yukon to Dawson. + White Fang had now achieved a reputation in the land. As “the Fighting + Wolf” he was known far and wide, and the cage in which he was kept on + the steam-boat’s deck was usually surrounded by curious men. He raged + and snarled at them, or lay quietly and studied them with cold hatred. + Why should he not hate them? He never asked himself the question. He + knew only hate and lost himself in the passion of it. Life had become + a hell to him. He had not been made for the close confinement wild + beasts endure at the hands of men. And yet it was in precisely this + way that he was treated. Men stared at him, poked sticks between the + bars to make him snarl, and then laughed at him. +

+

+ They were his environment, these men, and they were moulding the clay + of him into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by Nature. + Nevertheless, Nature had given him plasticity. Where many another + animal would have died or had its spirit broken, he adjusted himself + and lived, and at no expense of the spirit. Possibly Beauty Smith, + arch-fiend and tormentor, was capable of breaking White Fang’s spirit, + but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding. +

+

+ If Beauty Smith had in him a devil, White Fang had another; and the + two of them raged against each other unceasingly. In the days before, + White Fang had had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a man with a + club in his hand; but this wisdom now left him. The mere sight of + Beauty Smith was sufficient to send him into transports of fury. And + when they came to close quarters, and he had been beaten back by the + club, he went on growling and snarling, and showing his fangs. The + last growl could never be extracted from him. No matter how terribly + he was beaten, he had always another growl; and when Beauty Smith gave + up and withdrew, the defiant growl followed after him, or White Fang + sprang at the bars of the cage bellowing his hatred. +

+

+ When the steamboat arrived at Dawson, White Fang went ashore. But he + still lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by curious men. He + was exhibited as “the Fighting Wolf,” and men paid fifty cents in gold + dust to see him. He was given no rest. Did he lie down to sleep, he + was stirred up by a sharp stick—so that the audience might get its + money’s worth. In order to make the exhibition interesting, he was + kept in a rage most of the time. But worse than all this, was the + atmosphere in which he lived. He was regarded as the most fearful of + wild beasts, and this was borne in to him through the bars of the + cage. Every word, every cautious action, on the part of the men, + impressed upon him his own terrible ferocity. It was so much added + fuel to the flame of his fierceness. There could be but one result, + and that was that his ferocity fed upon itself and increased. It was + another instance of the plasticity of his clay, of his capacity for + being moulded by the pressure of environment. +

+

+ In addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting animal. + At irregular intervals, whenever a fight could be arranged, he was + taken out of his cage and led off into the woods a few miles from + town. Usually this occurred at night, so as to avoid interference from + the mounted police of the Territory. After a few hours of waiting, + when daylight had come, the audience and the dog with which he was to + fight arrived. In this manner it came about that he fought all sizes + and breeds of dogs. It was a savage land, the men were savage, and the + fights were usually to the death. +

+

+ Since White Fang continued to fight, it is obvious that it was the + other dogs that died. He never knew defeat. His early training, when + he fought with Lip-lip and the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good + stead. There was the tenacity with which he clung to the earth. No dog + could make him lose his footing. This was the favourite trick of the + wolf breeds—to rush in upon him, either directly or with an unexpected + swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder and overthrowing him. + Mackenzie hounds, Eskimo and Labrador dogs, huskies and Malemutes—all + tried it on him, and all failed. He was never known to lose his + footing. Men told this to one another, and looked each time to see it + happen; but White Fang always disappointed them. +

+

+ Then there was his lightning quickness. It gave him a tremendous + advantage over his antagonists. No matter what their fighting + experience, they had never encountered a dog that moved so swiftly as + he. Also to be reckoned with, was the immediateness of his attack. The + average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of snarling and + bristling and growling, and the average dog was knocked off his feet + and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered from his + surprise. So often did this happen, that it became the custom to hold + White Fang until the other dog went through its preliminaries, was + good and ready, and even made the first attack. +

+

+ But greatest of all the advantages in White Fang’s favour, was his + experience. He knew more about fighting than did any of the dogs that + faced him. He had fought more fights, knew how to meet more tricks and + methods, and had more tricks himself, while his own method was + scarcely to be improved upon. +

+

+ As the time went by, he had fewer and fewer fights. Men despaired of + matching him with an equal, and Beauty Smith was compelled to pit + wolves against him. These were trapped by the Indians for the purpose, + and a fight between White Fang and a wolf was always sure to draw a + crowd. Once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, and this time White + Fang fought for his life. Her quickness matched his; her ferocity + equalled his; while he fought with his fangs alone, and she fought + with her sharp-clawed feet as well. +

+

+ But after the lynx, all fighting ceased for White Fang. There were no + more animals with which to fight—at least, there was none considered + worthy of fighting with him. So he remained on exhibition until + spring, when one Tim Keenan, a faro-dealer, arrived in the land. With + him came the first bull-dog that had ever entered the Klondike. That + this dog and White Fang should come together was inevitable, and for a + week the anticipated fight was the mainspring of conversation in + certain quarters of the town. +

+
+
+

The Clinging Death

+

Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back.

+

+ For once White Fang did not make an immediate attack. He stood still, + ears pricked forward, alert and curious, surveying the strange animal + that faced him. He had never seen such a dog before. Tim Keenan shoved + the bull-dog forward with a muttered “Go to it.” The animal waddled + toward the centre of the circle, short and squat and ungainly. He came + to a stop and blinked across at White Fang. +

+

+ There were cries from the crowd of, “Go to him, Cherokee! Sick ’m, + Cherokee! Eat ’m up!” +

+

+ But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. He turned his head and + blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump of + a tail good-naturedly. He was not afraid, but merely lazy. Besides, it + did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight with the dog + he saw before him. He was not used to fighting with that kind of dog, + and he was waiting for them to bring on the real dog. +

+

+ Tim Keenan stepped in and bent over Cherokee, fondling him on both + sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the + hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. These were so + many suggestions. Also, their effect was irritating, for Cherokee + began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. There was a + correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the movements of the + man’s hands. The growl rose in the throat with the culmination of each + forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh with the + beginning of the next movement. The end of each movement was the + accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the growling + rising with a jerk. +

+

+ This was not without its effect on White Fang. The hair began to rise + on his neck and across the shoulders. Tim Keenan gave a final shove + forward and stepped back again. As the impetus that carried Cherokee + forward died down, he continued to go forward of his own volition, in + a swift, bow-legged run. Then White Fang struck. A cry of startled + admiration went up. He had covered the distance and gone in more like + a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness he had slashed + with his fangs and leaped clear. +

+

+ The bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick + neck. He gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed + after White Fang. The display on both sides, the quickness of the one + and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit of + the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing original + bets. Again, and yet again, White Fang sprang in, slashed, and got + away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after him, without + too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly, in a + businesslike sort of way. There was purpose in his method—something + for him to do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing + could distract him. +

+

+ His whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. It + puzzled White Fang. Never had he seen such a dog. It had no hair + protection. It was soft, and bled easily. There was no thick mat of + fur to baffle White Fang’s teeth as they were often baffled by dogs of + his own breed. Each time that his teeth struck they sank easily into + the yielding flesh, while the animal did not seem able to defend + itself. Another disconcerting thing was that it made no outcry, such + as he had been accustomed to with the other dogs he had fought. Beyond + a growl or a grunt, the dog took its punishment silently. And never + did it flag in its pursuit of him. +

+

+ Not that Cherokee was slow. He could turn and whirl swiftly enough, + but White Fang was never there. Cherokee was puzzled, too. He had + never fought before with a dog with which he could not close. The + desire to close had always been mutual. But here was a dog that kept + at a distance, dancing and dodging here and there and all about. And + when it did get its teeth into him, it did not hold on but let go + instantly and darted away again. +

+

+ But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. The + bull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added + protection. White Fang darted in and out unscathed, while Cherokee’s + wounds increased. Both sides of his neck and head were ripped and + slashed. He bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. He + continued his plodding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, + he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the + same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of his + willingness to fight. +

+

+ In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out, in passing ripping + his trimmed remnant of an ear. With a slight manifestation of anger, + Cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside of the + circle White Fang was making, and striving to fasten his deadly grip + on White Fang’s throat. The bull-dog missed by a hair’s-breadth, and + cries of praise went up as White Fang doubled suddenly out of danger + in the opposite direction. +

+

+ The time went by. White Fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, + leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage. And still the + bull-dog, with grim certitude, toiled after him. Sooner or later he + would accomplish his purpose, get the grip that would win the battle. + In the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other could deal + him. His tufts of ears had become tassels, his neck and shoulders were + slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were cut and + bleeding—all from these lightning snaps that were beyond his + foreseeing and guarding. +

+

+ Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off his + feet; but the difference in their height was too great. Cherokee was + too squat, too close to the ground. White Fang tried the trick once + too often. The chance came in one of his quick doublings and + counter-circlings. He caught Cherokee with head turned away as he + whirled more slowly. His shoulder was exposed. White Fang drove in + upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he struck with + such force that his momentum carried him on across over the other’s + body. For the first time in his fighting history, men saw White Fang + lose his footing. His body turned a half-somersault in the air, and he + would have landed on his back had he not twisted, catlike, still in + the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. As it was, he + struck heavily on his side. The next instant he was on his feet, but + in that instant Cherokee’s teeth closed on his throat. +

+

+ It was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; but + Cherokee held on. White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly + around, trying to shake off the bull-dog’s body. It made him frantic, + this clinging, dragging weight. It bound his movements, restricted his + freedom. It was like the trap, and all his instinct resented it and + revolted against it. It was a mad revolt. For several minutes he was + to all intents insane. The basic life that was in him took charge of + him. The will to exist of his body surged over him. He was dominated + by this mere flesh-love of life. All intelligence was gone. It was as + though he had no brain. His reason was unseated by the blind yearning + of the flesh to exist and move, at all hazards to move, to continue to + move, for movement was the expression of its existence. +

+

+ Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, trying to + shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. The + bull-dog did little but keep his grip. Sometimes, and rarely, he + managed to get his feet to the earth and for a moment to brace himself + against White Fang. But the next moment his footing would be lost and + he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of White Fang’s mad + gyrations. Cherokee identified himself with his instinct. He knew that + he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there came to him + certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. At such moments he even + closed his eyes and allowed his body to be hurled hither and thither, + willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might thereby come to it. That + did not count. The grip was the thing, and the grip he kept. +

+

+ White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. He could do + nothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, had + this thing happened. The dogs he had fought with did not fight that + way. With them it was snap and slash and get away, snap and slash and + get away. He lay partly on his side, panting for breath. Cherokee + still holding his grip, urged against him, trying to get him over + entirely on his side. White Fang resisted, and he could feel the jaws + shifting their grip, slightly relaxing and coming together again in a + chewing movement. Each shift brought the grip closer to his throat. + The bull-dog’s method was to hold what he had, and when opportunity + favoured to work in for more. Opportunity favoured when White Fang + remained quiet. When White Fang struggled, Cherokee was content merely + to hold on. +

+

+ The bulging back of Cherokee’s neck was the only portion of his body + that White Fang’s teeth could reach. He got hold toward the base where + the neck comes out from the shoulders; but he did not know the chewing + method of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted to it. He spasmodically + ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. Then a change in their + position diverted him. The bull-dog had managed to roll him over on + his back, and still hanging on to his throat, was on top of him. Like + a cat, White Fang bowed his hind-quarters in, and, with the feet + digging into his enemy’s abdomen above him, he began to claw with long + tearing-strokes. Cherokee might well have been disembowelled had he + not quickly pivoted on his grip and got his body off of White Fang’s + and at right angles to it. +

+

+ There was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and as + inexorable. Slowly it shifted up along the jugular. All that saved + White Fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and the thick fur + that covered it. This served to form a large roll in Cherokee’s mouth, + the fur of which well-nigh defied his teeth. But bit by bit, whenever + the chance offered, he was getting more of the loose skin and fur in + his mouth. The result was that he was slowly throttling White Fang. + The latter’s breath was drawn with greater and greater difficulty as + the moments went by. +

+

+ It began to look as though the battle were over. The backers of + Cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. White Fang’s + backers were correspondingly depressed, and refused bets of ten to one + and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close a wager of + fifty to one. This man was Beauty Smith. He took a step into the ring + and pointed his finger at White Fang. Then he began to laugh + derisively and scornfully. This produced the desired effect. White + Fang went wild with rage. He called up his reserves of strength, and + gained his feet. As he struggled around the ring, the fifty pounds of + his foe ever dragging on his throat, his anger passed on into panic. + The basic life of him dominated him again, and his intelligence fled + before the will of his flesh to live. Round and round and back again, + stumbling and falling and rising, even uprearing at times on his + hind-legs and lifting his foe clear of the earth, he struggled vainly + to shake off the clinging death. +

+

+ At last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted; and the bull-dog + promptly shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more + of the fur-folded flesh, throttling White Fang more severely than + ever. Shouts of applause went up for the victor, and there were many + cries of “Cherokee!” “Cherokee!” To this Cherokee responded by + vigorous wagging of the stump of his tail. But the clamour of approval + did not distract him. There was no sympathetic relation between his + tail and his massive jaws. The one might wag, but the others held + their terrible grip on White Fang’s throat. +

+

+ It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. There was + a jingle of bells. Dog-mushers’ cries were heard. Everybody, save + Beauty Smith, looked apprehensively, the fear of the police strong + upon them. But they saw, up the trail, and not down, two men running + with sled and dogs. They were evidently coming down the creek from + some prospecting trip. At sight of the crowd they stopped their dogs + and came over and joined it, curious to see the cause of the + excitement. The dog-musher wore a moustache, but the other, a taller + and younger man, was smooth-shaven, his skin rosy from the pounding of + his blood and the running in the frosty air. +

+

+ White Fang had practically ceased struggling. Now and again he + resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little air, and + that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that ever + tightened. In spite of his armour of fur, the great vein of his throat + would have long since been torn open, had not the first grip of the + bull-dog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. It had + taken Cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward, and this had + also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skin-fold. +

+

+ In the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising + into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed + at best. When he saw White Fang’s eyes beginning to glaze, he knew + beyond doubt that the fight was lost. Then he broke loose. He sprang + upon White Fang and began savagely to kick him. There were hisses from + the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. While this went on, + and Beauty Smith continued to kick White Fang, there was a commotion + in the crowd. The tall young newcomer was forcing his way through, + shouldering men right and left without ceremony or gentleness. When he + broke through into the ring, Beauty Smith was just in the act of + delivering another kick. All his weight was on one foot, and he was in + a state of unstable equilibrium. At that moment the newcomer’s fist + landed a smashing blow full in his face. Beauty Smith’s remaining leg + left the ground, and his whole body seemed to lift into the air as he + turned over backward and struck the snow. The newcomer turned upon the + crowd. +

+

“You cowards!” he cried. “You beasts!”

+

+ He was in a rage himself—a sane rage. His grey eyes seemed metallic + and steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. Beauty Smith regained + his feet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. The new-comer + did not understand. He did not know how abject a coward the other was, + and thought he was coming back intent on fighting. So, with a “You + beast!” he smashed Beauty Smith over backward with a second blow in + the face. Beauty Smith decided that the snow was the safest place for + him, and lay where he had fallen, making no effort to get up. +

+

+ “Come on, Matt, lend a hand,” the newcomer called the dog-musher, who + had followed him into the ring. +

+

+ Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took hold of White Fang, ready to + pull when Cherokee’s jaws should be loosened. This the younger man + endeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog’s jaws in his hands + and trying to spread them. It was a vain undertaking. As he pulled and + tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming with every expulsion of + breath, “Beasts!” +

+

+ The crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protesting + against the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when the + newcomer lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at + them. +

+

+ “You damn beasts!” he finally exploded, and went back to his task. +

+

+ “It’s no use, Mr. Scott, you can’t break ’m apart that way,” Matt said + at last. +

+

The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs.

+

+ “Ain’t bleedin’ much,” Matt announced. “Ain’t got all the way in yet.” +

+

+ “But he’s liable to any moment,” Scott answered. “There, did you see + that! He shifted his grip in a bit.” +

+

+ The younger man’s excitement and apprehension for White Fang was + growing. He struck Cherokee about the head savagely again and again. + But that did not loosen the jaws. Cherokee wagged the stump of his + tail in advertisement that he understood the meaning of the blows, but + that he knew he was himself in the right and only doing his duty by + keeping his grip. +

+

+ “Won’t some of you help?” Scott cried desperately at the crowd. +

+

+ But no help was offered. Instead, the crowd began sarcastically to + cheer him on and showered him with facetious advice. +

+

“You’ll have to get a pry,” Matt counselled.

+

+ The other reached into the holster at his hip, drew his revolver, and + tried to thrust its muzzle between the bull-dog’s jaws. He shoved, and + shoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the locked teeth + could be distinctly heard. Both men were on their knees, bending over + the dogs. Tim Keenan strode into the ring. He paused beside Scott and + touched him on the shoulder, saying ominously: +

+

“Don’t break them teeth, stranger.”

+

+ “Then I’ll break his neck,” Scott retorted, continuing his shoving and + wedging with the revolver muzzle. +

+

+ “I said don’t break them teeth,” the faro-dealer repeated more + ominously than before. +

+

+ But if it was a bluff he intended, it did not work. Scott never + desisted from his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked: +

+

“Your dog?”

+

The faro-dealer grunted.

+

“Then get in here and break this grip.”

+

+ “Well, stranger,” the other drawled irritatingly, “I don’t mind + telling you that’s something I ain’t worked out for myself. I don’t + know how to turn the trick.” +

+

+ “Then get out of the way,” was the reply, “and don’t bother me. I’m + busy.” +

+

+ Tim Keenan continued standing over him, but Scott took no further + notice of his presence. He had managed to get the muzzle in between + the jaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws on + the other side. This accomplished, he pried gently and carefully, + loosening the jaws a bit at a time, while Matt, a bit at a time, + extricated White Fang’s mangled neck. +

+

+ “Stand by to receive your dog,” was Scott’s peremptory order to + Cherokee’s owner. +

+

+ The faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on + Cherokee. +

+

“Now!” Scott warned, giving the final pry.

+

The dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously.

+

+ “Take him away,” Scott commanded, and Tim Keenan dragged Cherokee back + into the crowd. +

+

+ White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. Once he gained + his feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he slowly + wilted and sank back into the snow. His eyes were half closed, and the + surface of them was glassy. His jaws were apart, and through them the + tongue protruded, draggled and limp. To all appearances he looked like + a dog that had been strangled to death. Matt examined him. +

+

+ “Just about all in,” he announced; “but he’s breathin’ all right.” +

+

+ Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at White + Fang. +

+

“Matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?” Scott asked.

+

+ The dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over White Fang, + calculated for a moment. +

+

“Three hundred dollars,” he answered.

+

+ “And how much for one that’s all chewed up like this one?” Scott + asked, nudging White Fang with his foot. +

+

+ “Half of that,” was the dog-musher’s judgment. Scott turned upon + Beauty Smith. +

+

+ “Did you hear, Mr. Beast? I’m going to take your dog from you, and I’m + going to give you a hundred and fifty for him.” +

+

He opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills.

+

+ Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the + proffered money. +

+

“I ain’t a-sellin’,” he said.

+

+ “Oh, yes you are,” the other assured him. “Because I’m buying. Here’s + your money. The dog’s mine.” +

+

Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away.

+

+ Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty Smith + cowered down in anticipation of the blow. +

+

“I’ve got my rights,” he whimpered.

+

+ “You’ve forfeited your rights to own that dog,” was the rejoinder. + “Are you going to take the money? or do I have to hit you again?” +

+

+ “All right,” Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity of fear. “But I + take the money under protest,” he added. “The dog’s a mint. I ain’t + a-goin’ to be robbed. A man’s got his rights.” +

+

+ “Correct,” Scott answered, passing the money over to him. “A man’s got + his rights. But you’re not a man. You’re a beast.” +

+

+ “Wait till I get back to Dawson,” Beauty Smith threatened. “I’ll have + the law on you.” +

+

+ “If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I’ll have you run + out of town. Understand?” +

+

Beauty Smith replied with a grunt.

+

“Understand?” the other thundered with abrupt fierceness.

+

“Yes,” Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away.

+

“Yes what?”

+

“Yes, sir,” Beauty Smith snarled.

+

+ “Look out! He’ll bite!” some one shouted, and a guffaw of laughter + went up. +

+

+ Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, who + was working over White Fang. +

+

+ Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, + looking on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups. +

+

“Who’s that mug?” he asked.

+

“Weedon Scott,” some one answered.

+

“And who in hell is Weedon Scott?” the faro-dealer demanded.

+

+ “Oh, one of them crackerjack minin’ experts. He’s in with all the big + bugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, you’ll steer clear of him, + that’s my talk. He’s all hunky with the officials. The Gold + Commissioner’s a special pal of his.” +

+

+ “I thought he must be somebody,” was the faro-dealer’s comment. + “That’s why I kept my hands offen him at the start.” +

+
+
+

The Indomitable

+

“It’s hopeless,” Weedon Scott confessed.

+

+ He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who + responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless. +

+

+ Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched chain, + bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the sled-dogs. + Having received sundry lessons from Matt, said lessons being imparted + by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to leave White Fang + alone; and even then they were lying down at a distance, apparently + oblivious of his existence. +

+

+ “It’s a wolf and there’s no taming it,” Weedon Scott announced. +

+

+ “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Matt objected. “Might be a lot of dog + in ’m, for all you can tell. But there’s one thing I know sure, an’ + that there’s no gettin’ away from.” +

+

+ The dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at Moosehide + Mountain. +

+

+ “Well, don’t be a miser with what you know,” Scott said sharply, after + waiting a suitable length of time. “Spit it out. What is it?” +

+

+ The dog-musher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his + thumb. +

+

+ “Wolf or dog, it’s all the same—he’s ben tamed ’ready.” +

+

“No!”

+

+ “I tell you yes, an’ broke to harness. Look close there. D’ye see them + marks across the chest?” +

+

+ “You’re right, Matt. He was a sled-dog before Beauty Smith got hold of + him.” +

+

+ “And there’s not much reason against his bein’ a sled-dog again.” +

+

+ “What d’ye think?” Scott queried eagerly. Then the hope died down as + he added, shaking his head, “We’ve had him two weeks now, and if + anything he’s wilder than ever at the present moment.” +

+

+ “Give ’m a chance,” Matt counselled. “Turn ’m loose for a spell.” +

+

The other looked at him incredulously.

+

+ “Yes,” Matt went on, “I know you’ve tried to, but you didn’t take a + club.” +

+

“You try it then.”

+

+ The dog-musher secured a club and went over to the chained animal. + White Fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion watching + the whip of its trainer. +

+

+ “See ’m keep his eye on that club,” Matt said. “That’s a good sign. + He’s no fool. Don’t dast tackle me so long as I got that club handy. + He’s not clean crazy, sure.” +

+

+ As the man’s hand approached his neck, White Fang bristled and snarled + and crouched down. But while he eyed the approaching hand, he at the + same time contrived to keep track of the club in the other hand, + suspended threateningly above him. Matt unsnapped the chain from the + collar and stepped back. +

+

+ White Fang could scarcely realise that he was free. Many months had + gone by since he passed into the possession of Beauty Smith, and in + all that period he had never known a moment of freedom except at the + times he had been loosed to fight with other dogs. Immediately after + such fights he had always been imprisoned again. +

+

+ He did not know what to make of it. Perhaps some new devilry of the + gods was about to be perpetrated on him. He walked slowly and + cautiously, prepared to be assailed at any moment. He did not know + what to do, it was all so unprecedented. He took the precaution to + sheer off from the two watching gods, and walked carefully to the + corner of the cabin. Nothing happened. He was plainly perplexed, and + he came back again, pausing a dozen feet away and regarding the two + men intently. +

+

“Won’t he run away?” his new owner asked.

+

+ Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Got to take a gamble. Only way to find + out is to find out.” +

+

+ “Poor devil,” Scott murmured pityingly. “What he needs is some show of + human kindness,” he added, turning and going into the cabin. +

+

+ He came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to White Fang. He + sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously. +

+

“Hi-yu, Major!” Matt shouted warningly, but too late.

+

+ Major had made a spring for the meat. At the instant his jaws closed + on it, White Fang struck him. He was overthrown. Matt rushed in, but + quicker than he was White Fang. Major staggered to his feet, but the + blood spouting from his throat reddened the snow in a widening path. +

+

+ “It’s too bad, but it served him right,” Scott said hastily. +

+

+ But Matt’s foot had already started on its way to kick White Fang. + There was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. White Fang, + snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, while Matt + stooped and investigated his leg. +

+

+ “He got me all right,” he announced, pointing to the torn trousers and + undercloths, and the growing stain of red. +

+

+ “I told you it was hopeless, Matt,” Scott said in a discouraged voice. + “I’ve thought about it off and on, while not wanting to think of it. + But we’ve come to it now. It’s the only thing to do.” +

+

+ As he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threw + open the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents. +

+

+ “Look here, Mr. Scott,” Matt objected; “that dog’s ben through hell. + You can’t expect ’m to come out a white an’ shinin’ angel. Give ’m + time.” +

+

“Look at Major,” the other rejoined.

+

+ The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. He had sunk down on the snow + in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp. +

+

+ “Served ’m right. You said so yourself, Mr. Scott. He tried to take + White Fang’s meat, an’ he’s dead-O. That was to be expected. I + wouldn’t give two whoops in hell for a dog that wouldn’t fight for his + own meat.” +

+

+ “But look at yourself, Matt. It’s all right about the dogs, but we + must draw the line somewhere.” +

+

+ “Served me right,” Matt argued stubbornly. “What’d I want to kick ’m + for? You said yourself that he’d done right. Then I had no right to + kick ’m.” +

+

+ “It would be a mercy to kill him,” Scott insisted. “He’s untamable.” +

+

+ “Now look here, Mr. Scott, give the poor devil a fightin’ chance. He + ain’t had no chance yet. He’s just come through hell, an’ this is the + first time he’s ben loose. Give ’m a fair chance, an’ if he don’t + deliver the goods, I’ll kill ’m myself. There!” +

+

+ “God knows I don’t want to kill him or have him killed,” Scott + answered, putting away the revolver. “We’ll let him run loose and see + what kindness can do for him. And here’s a try at it.” +

+

+ He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and + soothingly. +

+

“Better have a club handy,” Matt warned.

+

+ Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fang’s + confidence. +

+

+ White Fang was suspicious. Something was impending. He had killed this + god’s dog, bitten his companion god, and what else was to be expected + than some terrible punishment? But in the face of it he was + indomitable. He bristled and showed his teeth, his eyes vigilant, his + whole body wary and prepared for anything. The god had no club, so he + suffered him to approach quite near. The god’s hand had come out and + was descending upon his head. White Fang shrank together and grew + tense as he crouched under it. Here was danger, some treachery or + something. He knew the hands of the gods, their proved mastery, their + cunning to hurt. Besides, there was his old antipathy to being + touched. He snarled more menacingly, crouched still lower, and still + the hand descended. He did not want to bite the hand, and he endured + the peril of it until his instinct surged up in him, mastering him + with its insatiable yearning for life. +

+

+ Weedon Scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap + or slash. But he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of White + Fang, who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled snake. +

+

+ Scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand and + holding it tightly in his other hand. Matt uttered a great oath and + sprang to his side. White Fang crouched down, and backed away, + bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malignant with menace. Now he + could expect a beating as fearful as any he had received from Beauty + Smith. +

+

“Here! What are you doing?” Scott cried suddenly.

+

Matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle.

+

+ “Nothin’,” he said slowly, with a careless calmness that was assumed, + “only goin’ to keep that promise I made. I reckon it’s up to me to + kill ’m as I said I’d do.” +

+

“No you don’t!”

+

“Yes I do. Watch me.”

+

+ As Matt had pleaded for White Fang when he had been bitten, it was now + Weedon Scott’s turn to plead. +

+

+ “You said to give him a chance. Well, give it to him. We’ve only just + started, and we can’t quit at the beginning. It served me right, this + time. And—look at him!” +

+

+ White Fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away, was + snarling with blood-curdling viciousness, not at Scott, but at the + dog-musher. +

+

+ “Well, I’ll be everlastingly gosh-swoggled!” was the dog-musher’s + expression of astonishment. +

+

+ “Look at the intelligence of him,” Scott went on hastily. “He knows + the meaning of firearms as well as you do. He’s got intelligence and + we’ve got to give that intelligence a chance. Put up the gun.” +

+

+ “All right, I’m willin’,” Matt agreed, leaning the rifle against the + woodpile. +

+

“But will you look at that!” he exclaimed the next moment.

+

+ White Fang had quieted down and ceased snarling. “This is worth + investigatin’. Watch.” +

+

+ Matt, reached for the rifle, and at the same moment White Fang + snarled. He stepped away from the rifle, and White Fang’s lifted lips + descended, covering his teeth. +

+

“Now, just for fun.”

+

+ Matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder. + White Fang’s snarling began with the movement, and increased as the + movement approached its culmination. But the moment before the rifle + came to a level on him, he leaped sidewise behind the corner of the + cabin. Matt stood staring along the sights at the empty space of snow + which had been occupied by White Fang. +

+

+ The dog-musher put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked at + his employer. +

+

+ “I agree with you, Mr. Scott. That dog’s too intelligent to kill.” +

+
+
+

The Love-Master

+

+ As White Fang watched Weedon Scott approach, he bristled and snarled + to advertise that he would not submit to punishment. Twenty-four hours + had passed since he had slashed open the hand that was now bandaged + and held up by a sling to keep the blood out of it. In the past White + Fang had experienced delayed punishments, and he apprehended that such + a one was about to befall him. How could it be otherwise? He had + committed what was to him sacrilege, sunk his fangs into the holy + flesh of a god, and of a white-skinned superior god at that. In the + nature of things, and of intercourse with gods, something terrible + awaited him. +

+

+ The god sat down several feet away. White Fang could see nothing + dangerous in that. When the gods administered punishment they stood on + their legs. Besides, this god had no club, no whip, no firearm. And + furthermore, he himself was free. No chain nor stick bound him. He + could escape into safety while the god was scrambling to his feet. In + the meantime he would wait and see. +

+

+ The god remained quiet, made no movement; and White Fang’s snarl + slowly dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased. + Then the god spoke, and at the first sound of his voice, the hair rose + on White Fang’s neck and the growl rushed up in his throat. But the + god made no hostile movement, and went on calmly talking. For a time + White Fang growled in unison with him, a correspondence of rhythm + being established between growl and voice. But the god talked on + interminably. He talked to White Fang as White Fang had never been + talked to before. He talked softly and soothingly, with a gentleness + that somehow, somewhere, touched White Fang. In spite of himself and + all the pricking warnings of his instinct, White Fang began to have + confidence in this god. He had a feeling of security that was belied + by all his experience with men. +

+

+ After a long time, the god got up and went into the cabin. White Fang + scanned him apprehensively when he came out. He had neither whip nor + club nor weapon. Nor was his uninjured hand behind his back hiding + something. He sat down as before, in the same spot, several feet away. + He held out a small piece of meat. White Fang pricked his ears and + investigated it suspiciously, managing to look at the same time both + at the meat and the god, alert for any overt act, his body tense and + ready to spring away at the first sign of hostility. +

+

+ Still the punishment delayed. The god merely held near to his nose a + piece of meat. And about the meat there seemed nothing wrong. Still + White Fang suspected; and though the meat was proffered to him with + short inviting thrusts of the hand, he refused to touch it. The gods + were all-wise, and there was no telling what masterful treachery + lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of meat. In past + experience, especially in dealing with squaws, meat and punishment had + often been disastrously related. +

+

+ In the end, the god tossed the meat on the snow at White Fang’s feet. + He smelled the meat carefully; but he did not look at it. While he + smelled it he kept his eyes on the god. Nothing happened. He took the + meat into his mouth and swallowed it. Still nothing happened. The god + was actually offering him another piece of meat. Again he refused to + take it from the hand, and again it was tossed to him. This was + repeated a number of times. But there came a time when the god refused + to toss it. He kept it in his hand and steadfastly proffered it. +

+

+ The meat was good meat, and White Fang was hungry. Bit by bit, + infinitely cautious, he approached the hand. At last the time came + that he decided to eat the meat from the hand. He never took his eyes + from the god, thrusting his head forward with ears flattened back and + hair involuntarily rising and cresting on his neck. Also a low growl + rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to be trifled with. + He ate the meat, and nothing happened. Piece by piece, he ate all the + meat, and nothing happened. Still the punishment delayed. +

+

+ He licked his chops and waited. The god went on talking. In his voice + was kindness—something of which White Fang had no experience whatever. + And within him it aroused feelings which he had likewise never + experienced before. He was aware of a certain strange satisfaction, as + though some need were being gratified, as though some void in his + being were being filled. Then again came the prod of his instinct and + the warning of past experience. The gods were ever crafty, and they + had unguessed ways of attaining their ends. +

+

+ Ah, he had thought so! There it came now, the god’s hand, cunning to + hurt, thrusting out at him, descending upon his head. But the god went + on talking. His voice was soft and soothing. In spite of the menacing + hand, the voice inspired confidence. And in spite of the assuring + voice, the hand inspired distrust. White Fang was torn by conflicting + feelings, impulses. It seemed he would fly to pieces, so terrible was + the control he was exerting, holding together by an unwonted + indecision the counter-forces that struggled within him for mastery. +

+

+ He compromised. He snarled and bristled and flattened his ears. But he + neither snapped nor sprang away. The hand descended. Nearer and nearer + it came. It touched the ends of his upstanding hair. He shrank down + under it. It followed down after him, pressing more closely against + him. Shrinking, almost shivering, he still managed to hold himself + together. It was a torment, this hand that touched him and violated + his instinct. He could not forget in a day all the evil that had been + wrought him at the hands of men. But it was the will of the god, and + he strove to submit. +

+

+ The hand lifted and descended again in a patting, caressing movement. + This continued, but every time the hand lifted, the hair lifted under + it. And every time the hand descended, the ears flattened down and a + cavernous growl surged in his throat. White Fang growled and growled + with insistent warning. By this means he announced that he was + prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive. There was no + telling when the god’s ulterior motive might be disclosed. At any + moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice might break forth in a + roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand transform itself into a + vice-like grip to hold him helpless and administer punishment. +

+

+ But the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with + non-hostile pats. White Fang experienced dual feelings. It was + distasteful to his instinct. It restrained him, opposed the will of + him toward personal liberty. And yet it was not physically painful. On + the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical way. The patting + movement slowly and carefully changed to a rubbing of the ears about + their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased a little. Yet he + continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant of unguessed evil, + alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling or the other came + uppermost and swayed him. +

+

“Well, I’ll be gosh-swoggled!”

+

+ So spoke Matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a pan + of dirty dish-water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying the + pan by the sight of Weedon Scott patting White Fang. +

+

+ At the instant his voice broke the silence, White Fang leaped back, + snarling savagely at him. +

+

Matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval.

+

+ “If you don’t mind my expressin’ my feelin’s, Mr. Scott, I’ll make + free to say you’re seventeen kinds of a damn fool an’ all of ’em + different, an’ then some.” +

+

+ Weedon Scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked + over to White Fang. He talked soothingly to him, but not for long, + then slowly put out his hand, rested it on White Fang’s head, and + resumed the interrupted patting. White Fang endured it, keeping his + eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that patted him, but upon + the man that stood in the doorway. +

+

+ “You may be a number one, tip-top minin’ expert, all right all right,” + the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, “but you missed the + chance of your life when you was a boy an’ didn’t run off an’ join a + circus.” +

+

+ White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not + leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back + of his neck with long, soothing strokes. +

+

+ It was the beginning of the end for White Fang—the ending of the old + life and the reign of hate. A new and incomprehensibly fairer life was + dawning. It required much thinking and endless patience on the part of + Weedon Scott to accomplish this. And on the part of White Fang it + required nothing less than a revolution. He had to ignore the urges + and promptings of instinct and reason, defy experience, give the lie + to life itself. +

+

+ Life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much + that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to + which he now abandoned himself. In short, when all things were + considered, he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one + he had achieved at the time he came voluntarily in from the Wild and + accepted Grey Beaver as his lord. At that time he was a mere puppy, + soft from the making, without form, ready for the thumb of + circumstance to begin its work upon him. But now it was different. The + thumb of circumstance had done its work only too well. By it he had + been formed and hardened into the Fighting Wolf, fierce and + implacable, unloving and unlovable. To accomplish the change was like + a reflux of being, and this when the plasticity of youth was no longer + his; when the fibre of him had become tough and knotty; when the warp + and the woof of him had made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and + unyielding; when the face of his spirit had become iron and all his + instincts and axioms had crystallised into set rules, cautions, + dislikes, and desires. +

+

+ Yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance + that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard and + remoulding it into fairer form. Weedon Scott was in truth this thumb. + He had gone to the roots of White Fang’s nature, and with kindness + touched to life potencies that had languished and well-nigh perished. + One such potency was love. It took the place of + like, which latter had been the highest feeling that thrilled + him in his intercourse with the gods. +

+

+ But this love did not come in a day. It began with like + and out of it slowly developed. White Fang did not run away, though he + was allowed to remain loose, because he liked this new god. This was + certainly better than the life he had lived in the cage of Beauty + Smith, and it was necessary that he should have some god. The lordship + of man was a need of his nature. The seal of his dependence on man had + been set upon him in that early day when he turned his back on the + Wild and crawled to Grey Beaver’s feet to receive the expected + beating. This seal had been stamped upon him again, and ineradicably, + on his second return from the Wild, when the long famine was over and + there was fish once more in the village of Grey Beaver. +

+

+ And so, because he needed a god and because he preferred Weedon Scott + to Beauty Smith, White Fang remained. In acknowledgment of fealty, he + proceeded to take upon himself the guardianship of his master’s + property. He prowled about the cabin while the sled-dogs slept, and + the first night-visitor to the cabin fought him off with a club until + Weedon Scott came to the rescue. But White Fang soon learned to + differentiate between thieves and honest men, to appraise the true + value of step and carriage. The man who travelled, loud-stepping, the + direct line to the cabin door, he let alone—though he watched him + vigilantly until the door opened and he received the endorsement of + the master. But the man who went softly, by circuitous ways, peering + with caution, seeking after secrecy—that was the man who received no + suspension of judgment from White Fang, and who went away abruptly, + hurriedly, and without dignity. +

+

+ Weedon Scott had set himself the task of redeeming White Fang—or + rather, of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done White Fang. It + was a matter of principle and conscience. He felt that the ill done + White Fang was a debt incurred by man and that it must be paid. So he + went out of his way to be especially kind to the Fighting Wolf. Each + day he made it a point to caress and pet White Fang, and to do it at + length. +

+

+ At first suspicious and hostile, White Fang grew to like this petting. + But there was one thing that he never outgrew—his growling. Growl he + would, from the moment the petting began till it ended. But it was a + growl with a new note in it. A stranger could not hear this note, and + to such a stranger the growling of White Fang was an exhibition of + primordial savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curdling. But White + Fang’s throat had become harsh-fibred from the making of ferocious + sounds through the many years since his first little rasp of anger in + the lair of his cubhood, and he could not soften the sounds of that + throat now to express the gentleness he felt. Nevertheless, Weedon + Scott’s ear and sympathy were fine enough to catch the new note all + but drowned in the fierceness—the note that was the faintest hint of a + croon of content and that none but he could hear. +

+

+ As the days went by, the evolution of like into love + was accelerated. White Fang himself began to grow aware of it, though + in his consciousness he knew not what love was. It manifested itself + to him as a void in his being—a hungry, aching, yearning void that + clamoured to be filled. It was a pain and an unrest; and it received + easement only by the touch of the new god’s presence. At such times + love was joy to him, a wild, keen-thrilling satisfaction. But when + away from his god, the pain and the unrest returned; the void in him + sprang up and pressed against him with its emptiness, and the hunger + gnawed and gnawed unceasingly. +

+

+ White Fang was in the process of finding himself. In spite of the + maturity of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould that had + formed him, his nature was undergoing an expansion. There was a + burgeoning within him of strange feelings and unwonted impulses. His + old code of conduct was changing. In the past he had liked comfort and + surcease from pain, disliked discomfort and pain, and he had adjusted + his actions accordingly. But now it was different. Because of this new + feeling within him, he ofttimes elected discomfort and pain for the + sake of his god. Thus, in the early morning, instead of roaming and + foraging, or lying in a sheltered nook, he would wait for hours on the + cheerless cabin-stoop for a sight of the god’s face. At night, when + the god returned home, White Fang would leave the warm sleeping-place + he had burrowed in the snow in order to receive the friendly snap of + fingers and the word of greeting. Meat, even meat itself, he would + forego to be with his god, to receive a caress from him or to + accompany him down into the town. +

+

+ Like had been replaced by love. And love was the + plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never gone. + And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. That + which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, a + love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang’s nature + expanded as a flower expands under the sun. +

+

+ But White Fang was not demonstrative. He was too old, too firmly + moulded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. He was too + self-possessed, too strongly poised in his own isolation. Too long had + he cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. He had never + barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark a welcome when + his god approached. He was never in the way, never extravagant nor + foolish in the expression of his love. He never ran to meet his god. + He waited at a distance; but he always waited, was always there. His + love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, inarticulate, a silent + adoration. Only by the steady regard of his eyes did he express his + love, and by the unceasing following with his eyes of his god’s every + movement. Also, at times, when his god looked at him and spoke to him, + he betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, caused by the struggle of + his love to express itself and his physical inability to express it. +

+

+ He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. It + was borne in upon him that he must let his master’s dogs alone. Yet + his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash them + into an acknowledgment of his superiority and leadership. This + accomplished, he had little trouble with them. They gave trail to him + when he came and went or walked among them, and when he asserted his + will they obeyed. +

+

+ In the same way, he came to tolerate Matt—as a possession of his + master. His master rarely fed him. Matt did that, it was his business; + yet White Fang divined that it was his master’s food he ate and that + it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. Matt it was who tried + to put him into the harness and make him haul sled with the other + dogs. But Matt failed. It was not until Weedon Scott put the harness + on White Fang and worked him, that he understood. He took it as his + master’s will that Matt should drive him and work him just as he drove + and worked his master’s other dogs. +

+

+ Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with + runners under them. And different was the method of driving the dogs. + There was no fan-formation of the team. The dogs worked in single + file, one behind another, hauling on double traces. And here, in the + Klondike, the leader was indeed the leader. The wisest as well as + strongest dog was the leader, and the team obeyed him and feared him. + That White Fang should quickly gain this post was inevitable. He could + not be satisfied with less, as Matt learned after much inconvenience + and trouble. White Fang picked out the post for himself, and Matt + backed his judgment with strong language after the experiment had been + tried. But, though he worked in the sled in the day, White Fang did + not forego the guarding of his master’s property in the night. Thus he + was on duty all the time, ever vigilant and faithful, the most + valuable of all the dogs. +

+

+ “Makin’ free to spit out what’s in me,” Matt said one day, “I beg to + state that you was a wise guy all right when you paid the price you + did for that dog. You clean swindled Beauty Smith on top of pushin’ + his face in with your fist.” +

+

+ A recrudescence of anger glinted in Weedon Scott’s grey eyes, and he + muttered savagely, “The beast!” +

+

+ In the late spring a great trouble came to White Fang. Without + warning, the love-master disappeared. There had been warning, but + White Fang was unversed in such things and did not understand the + packing of a grip. He remembered afterwards that his packing had + preceded the master’s disappearance; but at the time he suspected + nothing. That night he waited for the master to return. At midnight + the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear of the + cabin. There he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed for the + first sound of the familiar step. But, at two in the morning, his + anxiety drove him out to the cold front stoop, where he crouched, and + waited. +

+

+ But no master came. In the morning the door opened and Matt stepped + outside. White Fang gazed at him wistfully. There was no common speech + by which he might learn what he wanted to know. The days came and + went, but never the master. White Fang, who had never known sickness + in his life, became sick. He became very sick, so sick that Matt was + finally compelled to bring him inside the cabin. Also, in writing to + his employer, Matt devoted a postscript to White Fang. +

+

+ Weedon Scott reading the letter down in Circle City, came upon the + following: +

+

+ “That dam wolf won’t work. Won’t eat. Aint got no spunk left. All the + dogs is licking him. Wants to know what has become of you, and I don’t + know how to tell him. Mebbe he is going to die.” +

+

+ It was as Matt had said. White Fang had ceased eating, lost heart, and + allowed every dog of the team to thrash him. In the cabin he lay on + the floor near the stove, without interest in food, in Matt, nor in + life. Matt might talk gently to him or swear at him, it was all the + same; he never did more than turn his dull eyes upon the man, then + drop his head back to its customary position on his fore-paws. +

+

+ And then, one night, Matt, reading to himself with moving lips and + mumbled sounds, was startled by a low whine from White Fang. He had + got upon his feet, his ears cocked towards the door, and he was + listening intently. A moment later, Matt heard a footstep. The door + opened, and Weedon Scott stepped in. The two men shook hands. Then + Scott looked around the room. +

+

“Where’s the wolf?” he asked.

+

+ Then he discovered him, standing where he had been lying, near to the + stove. He had not rushed forward after the manner of other dogs. He + stood, watching and waiting. +

+

+ “Holy smoke!” Matt exclaimed. “Look at ’m wag his tail!” +

+

+ Weedon Scott strode half across the room toward him, at the same time + calling him. White Fang came to him, not with a great bound, yet + quickly. He was awakened from self-consciousness, but as he drew near, + his eyes took on a strange expression. Something, an incommunicable + vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as a light and shone forth. +

+

+ “He never looked at me that way all the time you was gone!” Matt + commented. +

+

+ Weedon Scott did not hear. He was squatting down on his heels, face to + face with White Fang and petting him—rubbing at the roots of the ears, + making long caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders, tapping + the spine gently with the balls of his fingers. And White Fang was + growling responsively, the crooning note of the growl more pronounced + than ever. +

+

+ But that was not all. What of his joy, the great love in him, ever + surging and struggling to express itself, succeeded in finding a new + mode of expression. He suddenly thrust his head forward and nudged his + way in between the master’s arm and body. And here, confined, hidden + from view all except his ears, no longer growling, he continued to + nudge and snuggle. +

+

The two men looked at each other. Scott’s eyes were shining.

+

“Gosh!” said Matt in an awe-stricken voice.

+

+ A moment later, when he had recovered himself, he said, “I always + insisted that wolf was a dog. Look at ’m!” +

+

+ With the return of the love-master, White Fang’s recovery was rapid. + Two nights and a day he spent in the cabin. Then he sallied forth. The + sled-dogs had forgotten his prowess. They remembered only the latest, + which was his weakness and sickness. At the sight of him as he came + out of the cabin, they sprang upon him. +

+

+ “Talk about your rough-houses,” Matt murmured gleefully, standing in + the doorway and looking on. +

+

+ “Give ’m hell, you wolf! Give ’m hell!—an’ then some!” +

+

+ White Fang did not need the encouragement. The return of the + love-master was enough. Life was flowing through him again, splendid + and indomitable. He fought from sheer joy, finding in it an expression + of much that he felt and that otherwise was without speech. There + could be but one ending. The team dispersed in ignominious defeat, and + it was not until after dark that the dogs came sneaking back, one by + one, by meekness and humility signifying their fealty to White Fang. +

+

+ Having learned to snuggle, White Fang was guilty of it often. It was + the final word. He could not go beyond it. The one thing of which he + had always been particularly jealous was his head. He had always + disliked to have it touched. It was the Wild in him, the fear of hurt + and of the trap, that had given rise to the panicky impulses to avoid + contacts. It was the mandate of his instinct that that head must be + free. And now, with the love-master, his snuggling was the deliberate + act of putting himself into a position of hopeless helplessness. It + was an expression of perfect confidence, of absolute self-surrender, + as though he said: “I put myself into thy hands. Work thou thy will + with me.” +

+

+ One night, not long after the return, Scott and Matt sat at a game of + cribbage preliminary to going to bed. “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four an’ a + pair makes six,” Mat was pegging up, when there was an outcry and + sound of snarling without. They looked at each other as they started + to rise to their feet. +

+

“The wolf’s nailed somebody,” Matt said.

+

A wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them.

+

“Bring a light!” Scott shouted, as he sprang outside.

+

+ Matt followed with the lamp, and by its light they saw a man lying on + his back in the snow. His arms were folded, one above the other, + across his face and throat. Thus he was trying to shield himself from + White Fang’s teeth. And there was need for it. White Fang was in a + rage, wickedly making his attack on the most vulnerable spot. From + shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms, the coat-sleeve, blue flannel + shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags, while the arms themselves + were terribly slashed and streaming blood. +

+

+ All this the two men saw in the first instant. The next instant Weedon + Scott had White Fang by the throat and was dragging him clear. White + Fang struggled and snarled, but made no attempt to bite, while he + quickly quieted down at a sharp word from the master. +

+

+ Matt helped the man to his feet. As he arose he lowered his crossed + arms, exposing the bestial face of Beauty Smith. The dog-musher let go + of him precipitately, with action similar to that of a man who has + picked up live fire. Beauty Smith blinked in the lamplight and looked + about him. He caught sight of White Fang and terror rushed into his + face. +

+

+ At the same moment Matt noticed two objects lying in the snow. He held + the lamp close to them, indicating them with his toe for his + employer’s benefit—a steel dog-chain and a stout club. +

+

+ Weedon Scott saw and nodded. Not a word was spoken. The dog-musher + laid his hand on Beauty Smith’s shoulder and faced him to the right + about. No word needed to be spoken. Beauty Smith started. +

+

+ In the meantime the love-master was patting White Fang and talking to + him. +

+

+ “Tried to steal you, eh? And you wouldn’t have it! Well, well, he made + a mistake, didn’t he?” +

+

+ “Must ‘a’ thought he had hold of seventeen devils,” the dog-musher + sniggered. +

+

+ White Fang, still wrought up and bristling, growled and growled, the + hair slowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, but growing + in his throat. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fbb43c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch04.md @@ -0,0 +1,2025 @@ +--- +title: Part IV +class: part +--- + +## + +### The Enemy of His Kind + +Had there been in White Fang’s nature any possibility, no matter +how remote, of his ever coming to fraternise with his kind, such possibility +was irretrievably destroyed when he was made leader of the sled-team. +For now the dogs hated him—hated him for the extra meat bestowed +upon him by Mit-sah; hated him for all the real and fancied favours +he received; hated him for that he fled always at the head of the team, +his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually retreating hind-quarters +for ever maddening their eyes. + +And White Fang just as bitterly hated them back. Being sled-leader +was anything but gratifying to him. To be compelled to run away +before the yelling pack, every dog of which, for three years, he had +thrashed and mastered, was almost more than he could endure. But +endure it he must, or perish, and the life that was in him had no desire +to perish out. The moment Mit-sah gave his order for the start, +that moment the whole team, with eager, savage cries, sprang forward +at White Fang. + +There was no defence for him. If he turned upon them, Mit-sah +would throw the stinging lash of the whip into his face. Only +remained to him to run away. He could not encounter that howling +horde with his tail and hind-quarters. These were scarcely fit +weapons with which to meet the many merciless fangs. So run away +he did, violating his own nature and pride with every leap he made, +and leaping all day long. + +One cannot violate the promptings of one’s nature without having +that nature recoil upon itself. Such a recoil is like that of +a hair, made to grow out from the body, turning unnaturally upon the +direction of its growth and growing into the body—a rankling, +festering thing of hurt. And so with White Fang. Every urge +of his being impelled him to spring upon the pack that cried at his +heels, but it was the will of the gods that this should not be; and +behind the will, to enforce it, was the whip of cariboo-gut with its +biting thirty-foot lash. So White Fang could only eat his heart +in bitterness and develop a hatred and malice commensurate with the +ferocity and indomitability of his nature. + +If ever a creature was the enemy of its kind, White Fang was that +creature. He asked no quarter, gave none. He was continually +marred and scarred by the teeth of the pack, and as continually he left +his own marks upon the pack. Unlike most leaders, who, when camp +was made and the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to the gods for protection, +White Fang disdained such protection. He walked boldly about the +camp, inflicting punishment in the night for what he had suffered in +the day. In the time before he was made leader of the team, the +pack had learned to get out of his way. But now it was different. +Excited by the day-long pursuit of him, swayed subconsciously by the +insistent iteration on their brains of the sight of him fleeing away, +mastered by the feeling of mastery enjoyed all day, the dogs could not +bring themselves to give way to him. When he appeared amongst +them, there was always a squabble. His progress was marked by +snarl and snap and growl. The very atmosphere he breathed was +surcharged with hatred and malice, and this but served to increase the +hatred and malice within him. + +When Mit-sah cried out his command for the team to stop, White Fang +obeyed. At first this caused trouble for the other dogs. +All of them would spring upon the hated leader only to find the tables +turned. Behind him would be Mit-sah, the great whip singing in +his hand. So the dogs came to understand that when the team stopped +by order, White Fang was to be let alone. But when White Fang +stopped without orders, then it was allowed them to spring upon him +and destroy him if they could. After several experiences, White +Fang never stopped without orders. He learned quickly. It +was in the nature of things, that he must learn quickly if he were to +survive the unusually severe conditions under which life was vouchsafed +him. + +But the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in camp. +Each day, pursuing him and crying defiance at him, the lesson of the +previous night was erased, and that night would have to be learned over +again, to be as immediately forgotten. Besides, there was a greater +consistence in their dislike of him. They sensed between themselves +and him a difference of kind—cause sufficient in itself for hostility. +Like him, they were domesticated wolves. But they had been domesticated +for generations. Much of the Wild had been lost, so that to them +the Wild was the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing and ever warring. +But to him, in appearance and action and impulse, still clung the Wild. +He symbolised it, was its personification: so that when they showed +their teeth to him they were defending themselves against the powers +of destruction that lurked in the shadows of the forest and in the dark +beyond the camp-fire. + +But there was one lesson the dogs did learn, and that was to keep +together. White Fang was too terrible for any of them to face +single-handed. They met him with the mass-formation, otherwise +he would have killed them, one by one, in a night. As it was, +he never had a chance to kill them. He might roll a dog off its +feet, but the pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver +the deadly throat-stroke. At the first hint of conflict, the whole +team drew together and faced him. The dogs had quarrels among +themselves, but these were forgotten when trouble was brewing with White +Fang. + +On the other hand, try as they would, they could not kill White Fang. +He was too quick for them, too formidable, too wise. He avoided +tight places and always backed out of it when they bade fair to surround +him. While, as for getting him off his feet, there was no dog +among them capable of doing the trick. His feet clung to the earth +with the same tenacity that he clung to life. For that matter, +life and footing were synonymous in this unending warfare with the pack, +and none knew it better than White Fang. + +So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they +were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow +of man’s strength. White Fang was bitter and implacable. +The clay of him was so moulded. He declared a vendetta against +all dogs. And so terribly did he live this vendetta that Grey +Beaver, fierce savage himself, could not but marvel at White Fang’s +ferocity. Never, he swore, had there been the like of this animal; +and the Indians in strange villages swore likewise when they considered +the tale of his killings amongst their dogs. + +When White Fang was nearly five years old, Grey Beaver took him on +another great journey, and long remembered was the havoc he worked amongst +the dogs of the many villages along the Mackenzie, across the Rockies, +and down the Porcupine to the Yukon. He revelled in the vengeance +he wreaked upon his kind. They were ordinary, unsuspecting dogs. +They were not prepared for his swiftness and directness, for his attack +without warning. They did not know him for what he was, a lightning-flash +of slaughter. They bristled up to him, stiff-legged and challenging, +while he, wasting no time on elaborate preliminaries, snapping into +action like a steel spring, was at their throats and destroying them +before they knew what was happening and while they were yet in the throes +of surprise. + +He became an adept at fighting. He economised. He never +wasted his strength, never tussled. He was in too quickly for +that, and, if he missed, was out again too quickly. The dislike +of the wolf for close quarters was his to an unusual degree. He +could not endure a prolonged contact with another body. It smacked +of danger. It made him frantic. He must be away, free, on +his own legs, touching no living thing. It was the Wild still +clinging to him, asserting itself through him. This feeling had +been accentuated by the Ishmaelite life he had led from his puppyhood. +Danger lurked in contacts. It was the trap, ever the trap, the +fear of it lurking deep in the life of him, woven into the fibre of +him. + +In consequence, the strange dogs he encountered had no chance against +him. He eluded their fangs. He got them, or got away, himself +untouched in either event. In the natural course of things there +were exceptions to this. There were times when several dogs, pitching +on to him, punished him before he could get away; and there were times +when a single dog scored deeply on him. But these were accidents. +In the main, so efficient a fighter had he become, he went his way unscathed. + +Another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time +and distance. Not that he did this consciously, however. +He did not calculate such things. It was all automatic. +His eyes saw correctly, and the nerves carried the vision correctly +to his brain. The parts of him were better adjusted than those +of the average dog. They worked together more smoothly and steadily. +His was a better, far better, nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordination. +When his eyes conveyed to his brain the moving image of an action, his +brain without conscious effort, knew the space that limited that action +and the time required for its completion. Thus, he could avoid +the leap of another dog, or the drive of its fangs, and at the same +moment could seize the infinitesimal fraction of time in which to deliver +his own attack. Body and brain, his was a more perfected mechanism. +Not that he was to be praised for it. Nature had been more generous +to him than to the average animal, that was all. + +It was in the summer that White Fang arrived at Fort Yukon. +Grey Beaver had crossed the great watershed between Mackenzie and the +Yukon in the late winter, and spent the spring in hunting among the +western outlying spurs of the Rockies. Then, after the break-up +of the ice on the Porcupine, he had built a canoe and paddled down that +stream to where it effected its junction with the Yukon just under the +Artic circle. Here stood the old Hudson’s Bay Company fort; +and here were many Indians, much food, and unprecedented excitement. +It was the summer of 1898, and thousands of gold-hunters were going +up the Yukon to Dawson and the Klondike. Still hundreds of miles +from their goal, nevertheless many of them had been on the way for a +year, and the least any of them had travelled to get that far was five +thousand miles, while some had come from the other side of the world. + +Here Grey Beaver stopped. A whisper of the gold-rush had reached +his ears, and he had come with several bales of furs, and another of +gut-sewn mittens and moccasins. He would not have ventured so +long a trip had he not expected generous profits. But what he +had expected was nothing to what he realised. His wildest dreams +had not exceeded a hundred per cent. profit; he made a thousand per +cent. And like a true Indian, he settled down to trade carefully +and slowly, even if it took all summer and the rest of the winter to +dispose of his goods. + +It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw his first white men. +As compared with the Indians he had known, they were to him another +race of beings, a race of superior gods. They impressed him as +possessing superior power, and it is on power that godhead rests. +White Fang did not reason it out, did not in his mind make the sharp +generalisation that the white gods were more powerful. It was +a feeling, nothing more, and yet none the less potent. As, in +his puppyhood, the looming bulks of the tepees, man-reared, had affected +him as manifestations of power, so was he affected now by the houses +and the huge fort all of massive logs. Here was power. Those +white gods were strong. They possessed greater mastery over matter +than the gods he had known, most powerful among which was Grey Beaver. +And yet Grey Beaver was as a child-god among these white-skinned ones. + +To be sure, White Fang only felt these things. He was not conscious +of them. Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that +animals act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon the +feeling that the white men were the superior gods. In the first +place he was very suspicious of them. There was no telling what +unknown terrors were theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer. +He was curious to observe them, fearful of being noticed by them. +For the first few hours he was content with slinking around and watching +them from a safe distance. Then he saw that no harm befell the +dogs that were near to them, and he came in closer. + +In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. His wolfish +appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one +another. This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and +when they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. +Not one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they +did not. + +White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods—not more +than a dozen—lived at this place. Every two or three days +a steamer (another and colossal manifestation of power) came into the +bank and stopped for several hours. The white men came from off +these steamers and went away on them again. There seemed untold +numbers of these white men. In the first day or so, he saw more +of them than he had seen Indians in all his life; and as the days went +by they continued to come up the river, stop, and then go on up the +river out of sight. + +But if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount +to much. This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those +that came ashore with their masters. They were irregular shapes +and sizes. Some were short-legged—too short; others were +long-legged—too long. They had hair instead of fur, and +a few had very little hair at that. And none of them knew how +to fight. + +As an enemy of his kind, it was in White Fang’s province to +fight with them. This he did, and he quickly achieved for them +a mighty contempt. They were soft and helpless, made much noise, +and floundered around clumsily trying to accomplish by main strength +what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning. They rushed bellowing +at him. He sprang to the side. They did not know what had +become of him; and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder, rolling +them off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat. + +Sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in +the dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of Indian +dogs that waited. White Fang was wise. He had long since +learned that the gods were made angry when their dogs were killed. +The white men were no exception to this. So he was content, when +he had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, +to drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work. +It was then that the white men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily +on the pack, while White Fang went free. He would stand off at +a little distance and look on, while stones, clubs, axes, and all sorts +of weapons fell upon his fellows. White Fang was very wise. + +But his fellows grew wise in their own way; and in this White Fang +grew wise with them. They learned that it was when a steamer first +tied to the bank that they had their fun. After the first two +or three strange dogs had been downed and destroyed, the white men hustled +their own animals back on board and wrecked savage vengeance on the +offenders. One white man, having seen his dog, a setter, torn +to pieces before his eyes, drew a revolver. He fired rapidly, +six times, and six of the pack lay dead or dying—another manifestation +of power that sank deep into White Fang’s consciousness. + +White Fang enjoyed it all. He did not love his kind, and he +was shrewd enough to escape hurt himself. At first, the killing +of the white men’s dogs had been a diversion. After a time +it became his occupation. There was no work for him to do. +Grey Beaver was busy trading and getting wealthy. So White Fang +hung around the landing with the disreputable gang of Indian dogs, waiting +for steamers. With the arrival of a steamer the fun began. +After a few minutes, by the time the white men had got over their surprise, +the gang scattered. The fun was over until the next steamer should +arrive. + +But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the gang. +He did not mingle with it, but remained aloof, always himself, and was +even feared by it. It is true, he worked with it. He picked +the quarrel with the strange dog while the gang waited. And when +he had overthrown the strange dog the gang went in to finish it. +But it is equally true that he then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive +the punishment of the outraged gods. + +It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels. All +he had to do, when the strange dogs came ashore, was to show himself. +When they saw him they rushed for him. It was their instinct. +He was the Wild—the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing, +the thing that prowled in the darkness around the fires of the primeval +world when they, cowering close to the fires, were reshaping their instincts, +learning to fear the Wild out of which they had come, and which they +had deserted and betrayed. Generation by generation, down all +the generations, had this fear of the Wild been stamped into their natures. +For centuries the Wild had stood for terror and destruction. And +during all this time free licence had been theirs, from their masters, +to kill the things of the Wild. In doing this they had protected +both themselves and the gods whose companionship they shared. + +And so, fresh from the soft southern world, these dogs, trotting +down the gang-plank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see White +Fang to experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy +him. They might be town-reared dogs, but the instinctive fear +of the Wild was theirs just the same. Not alone with their own +eyes did they see the wolfish creature in the clear light of day, standing +before them. They saw him with the eyes of their ancestors, and +by their inherited memory they knew White Fang for the wolf, and they +remembered the ancient feud. + +All of which served to make White Fang’s days enjoyable. +If the sight of him drove these strange dogs upon him, so much the better +for him, so much the worse for them. They looked upon him as legitimate +prey, and as legitimate prey he looked upon them. + +Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair +and fought his first fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel, and the +lynx. And not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by +the persecution of Lip-lip and the whole puppy pack. It might +have been otherwise, and he would then have been otherwise. Had +Lip-lip not existed, he would have passed his puppyhood with the other +puppies and grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs. +Had Grey Beaver possessed the plummet of affection and love, he might +have sounded the deeps of White Fang’s nature and brought up to +the surface all manner of kindly qualities. But these things had +not been so. The clay of White Fang had been moulded until he +became what he was, morose and lonely, unloving and ferocious, the enemy +of all his kind. + +### The Mad God + +A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon. These men +had been long in the country. They called themselves Sour-doughs, +and took great pride in so classifying themselves. For other men, +new in the land, they felt nothing but disdain. The men who came +ashore from the steamers were newcomers. They were known as _chechaquos_, +and they always wilted at the application of the name. They made +their bread with baking-powder. This was the invidious distinction +between them and the Sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made their bread from +sour-dough because they had no baking-powder. + +All of which is neither here nor there. The men in the fort +disdained the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief. +Especially did they enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers’ +dogs by White Fang and his disreputable gang. When a steamer arrived, +the men of the fort made it a point always to come down to the bank +and see the fun. They looked forward to it with as much anticipation +as did the Indian dogs, while they were not slow to appreciate the savage +and crafty part played by White Fang. + +But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the sport. +He would come running at the first sound of a steamboat’s whistle; +and when the last fight was over and White Fang and the pack had scattered, +he would return slowly to the fort, his face heavy with regret. +Sometimes, when a soft southland dog went down, shrieking its death-cry +under the fangs of the pack, this man would be unable to contain himself, +and would leap into the air and cry out with delight. And always +he had a sharp and covetous eye for White Fang. + +This man was called “Beauty” by the other men of the +fort. No one knew his first name, and in general he was known +in the country as Beauty Smith. But he was anything save a beauty. +To antithesis was due his naming. He was pre-eminently unbeautiful. +Nature had been niggardly with him. He was a small man to begin +with; and upon his meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly +meagre head. Its apex might be likened to a point. In fact, +in his boyhood, before he had been named Beauty by his fellows, he had +been called “Pinhead.” + +Backward, from the apex, his head slanted down to his neck and forward +it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide forehead. +Beginning here, as though regretting her parsimony, Nature had spread +his features with a lavish hand. His eyes were large, and between +them was the distance of two eyes. His face, in relation to the +rest of him, was prodigious. In order to discover the necessary +area, Nature had given him an enormous prognathous jaw. It was +wide and heavy, and protruded outward and down until it seemed to rest +on his chest. Possibly this appearance was due to the weariness +of the slender neck, unable properly to support so great a burden. + +This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination. But +something lacked. Perhaps it was from excess. Perhaps the +jaw was too large. At any rate, it was a lie. Beauty Smith +was known far and wide as the weakest of weak-kneed and snivelling cowards. +To complete his description, his teeth were large and yellow, while +the two eye-teeth, larger than their fellows, showed under his lean +lips like fangs. His eyes were yellow and muddy, as though Nature +had run short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her +tubes. It was the same with his hair, sparse and irregular of +growth, muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting +out of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches, in appearance like +clumped and wind-blown grain. + +In short, Beauty Smith was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay +elsewhere. He was not responsible. The clay of him had been +so moulded in the making. He did the cooking for the other men +in the fort, the dish-washing and the drudgery. They did not despise +him. Rather did they tolerate him in a broad human way, as one +tolerates any creature evilly treated in the making. Also, they +feared him. His cowardly rages made them dread a shot in the back +or poison in their coffee. But somebody had to do the cooking, +and whatever else his shortcomings, Beauty Smith could cook. + +This was the man that looked at White Fang, delighted in his ferocious +prowess, and desired to possess him. He made overtures to White +Fang from the first. White Fang began by ignoring him. Later +on, when the overtures became more insistent, White Fang bristled and +bared his teeth and backed away. He did not like the man. +The feel of him was bad. He sensed the evil in him, and feared +the extended hand and the attempts at soft-spoken speech. Because +of all this, he hated the man. + +With the simpler creatures, good and bad are things simply understood. +The good stands for all things that bring easement and satisfaction +and surcease from pain. Therefore, the good is liked. The +bad stands for all things that are fraught with discomfort, menace, +and hurt, and is hated accordingly. White Fang’s feel of +Beauty Smith was bad. From the man’s distorted body and +twisted mind, in occult ways, like mists rising from malarial marshes, +came emanations of the unhealth within. Not by reasoning, not +by the five senses alone, but by other and remoter and uncharted senses, +came the feeling to White Fang that the man was ominous with evil, pregnant +with hurtfulness, and therefore a thing bad, and wisely to be hated. + +White Fang was in Grey Beaver’s camp when Beauty Smith first +visited it. At the faint sound of his distant feet, before he +came in sight, White Fang knew who was coming and began to bristle. +He had been lying down in an abandon of comfort, but he arose quickly, +and, as the man arrived, slid away in true wolf-fashion to the edge +of the camp. He did not know what they said, but he could see +the man and Grey Beaver talking together. Once, the man pointed +at him, and White Fang snarled back as though the hand were just descending +upon him instead of being, as it was, fifty feet away. The man +laughed at this; and White Fang slunk away to the sheltering woods, +his head turned to observe as he glided softly over the ground. + +Grey Beaver refused to sell the dog. He had grown rich with +his trading and stood in need of nothing. Besides, White Fang +was a valuable animal, the strongest sled-dog he had ever owned, and +the best leader. Furthermore, there was no dog like him on the +Mackenzie nor the Yukon. He could fight. He killed other +dogs as easily as men killed mosquitoes. (Beauty Smith’s +eyes lighted up at this, and he licked his thin lips with an eager tongue). +No, White Fang was not for sale at any price. + +But Beauty Smith knew the ways of Indians. He visited Grey +Beaver’s camp often, and hidden under his coat was always a black +bottle or so. One of the potencies of whisky is the breeding of +thirst. Grey Beaver got the thirst. His fevered membranes +and burnt stomach began to clamour for more and more of the scorching +fluid; while his brain, thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant, permitted +him to go any length to obtain it. The money he had received for +his furs and mittens and moccasins began to go. It went faster +and faster, and the shorter his money-sack grew, the shorter grew his +temper. + +In the end his money and goods and temper were all gone. Nothing +remained to him but his thirst, a prodigious possession in itself that +grew more prodigious with every sober breath he drew. Then it +was that Beauty Smith had talk with him again about the sale of White +Fang; but this time the price offered was in bottles, not dollars, and +Grey Beaver’s ears were more eager to hear. + +“You ketch um dog you take um all right,” was his last +word. + +The bottles were delivered, but after two days. “You +ketch um dog,” were Beauty Smith’s words to Grey Beaver. + +White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh +of content. The dreaded white god was not there. For days +his manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing more +insistent, and during that time White Fang had been compelled to avoid +the camp. He did not know what evil was threatened by those insistent +hands. He knew only that they did threaten evil of some sort, +and that it was best for him to keep out of their reach. + +But scarcely had he lain down when Grey Beaver staggered over to +him and tied a leather thong around his neck. He sat down beside +White Fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. In the other +hand he held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted above +his head to the accompaniment of gurgling noises. + +An hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with +the ground foreran the one who approached. White Fang heard it +first, and he was bristling with recognition while Grey Beaver still +nodded stupidly. White Fang tried to draw the thong softly out +of his master’s hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and +Grey Beaver roused himself. + +Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang. He +snarled softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the deportment +of the hands. One hand extended outward and began to descend upon +his head. His soft snarl grew tense and harsh. The hand +continued slowly to descend, while he crouched beneath it, eyeing it +malignantly, his snarl growing shorter and shorter as, with quickening +breath, it approached its culmination. Suddenly he snapped, striking +with his fangs like a snake. The hand was jerked back, and the +teeth came together emptily with a sharp click. Beauty Smith was +frightened and angry. Grey Beaver clouted White Fang alongside +the head, so that he cowered down close to the earth in respectful obedience. + +White Fang’s suspicious eyes followed every movement. +He saw Beauty Smith go away and return with a stout club. Then +the end of the thong was given over to him by Grey Beaver. Beauty +Smith started to walk away. The thong grew taut. White Fang +resisted it. Grey Beaver clouted him right and left to make him +get up and follow. He obeyed, but with a rush, hurling himself +upon the stranger who was dragging him away. Beauty Smith did +not jump away. He had been waiting for this. He swung the +club smartly, stopping the rush midway and smashing White Fang down +upon the ground. Grey Beaver laughed and nodded approval. +Beauty Smith tightened the thong again, and White Fang crawled limply +and dizzily to his feet. + +He did not rush a second time. One smash from the club was +sufficient to convince him that the white god knew how to handle it, +and he was too wise to fight the inevitable. So he followed morosely +at Beauty Smith’s heels, his tail between his legs, yet snarling +softly under his breath. But Beauty Smith kept a wary eye on him, +and the club was held always ready to strike. + +At the fort Beauty Smith left him securely tied and went in to bed. +White Fang waited an hour. Then he applied his teeth to the thong, +and in the space of ten seconds was free. He had wasted no time +with his teeth. There had been no useless gnawing. The thong +was cut across, diagonally, almost as clean as though done by a knife. +White Fang looked up at the fort, at the same time bristling and growling. +Then he turned and trotted back to Grey Beaver’s camp. He +owed no allegiance to this strange and terrible god. He had given +himself to Grey Beaver, and to Grey Beaver he considered he still belonged. + +But what had occurred before was repeated—with a difference. +Grey Beaver again made him fast with a thong, and in the morning turned +him over to Beauty Smith. And here was where the difference came +in. Beauty Smith gave him a beating. Tied securely, White +Fang could only rage futilely and endure the punishment. Club +and whip were both used upon him, and he experienced the worst beating +he had ever received in his life. Even the big beating given him +in his puppyhood by Grey Beaver was mild compared with this. + +Beauty Smith enjoyed the task. He delighted in it. He +gloated over his victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung the +whip or club and listened to White Fang’s cries of pain and to +his helpless bellows and snarls. For Beauty Smith was cruel in +the way that cowards are cruel. Cringing and snivelling himself +before the blows or angry speech of a man, he revenged himself, in turn, +upon creatures weaker than he. All life likes power, and Beauty +Smith was no exception. Denied the expression of power amongst +his own kind, he fell back upon the lesser creatures and there vindicated +the life that was in him. But Beauty Smith had not created himself, +and no blame was to be attached to him. He had come into the world +with a twisted body and a brute intelligence. This had constituted +the clay of him, and it had not been kindly moulded by the world. + +White Fang knew why he was being beaten. When Grey Beaver tied +the thong around his neck, and passed the end of the thong into Beauty +Smith’s keeping, White Fang knew that it was his god’s will +for him to go with Beauty Smith. And when Beauty Smith left him +tied outside the fort, he knew that it was Beauty Smith’s will +that he should remain there. Therefore, he had disobeyed the will +of both the gods, and earned the consequent punishment. He had +seen dogs change owners in the past, and he had seen the runaways beaten +as he was being beaten. He was wise, and yet in the nature of +him there were forces greater than wisdom. One of these was fidelity. +He did not love Grey Beaver, yet, even in the face of his will and his +anger, he was faithful to him. He could not help it. This +faithfulness was a quality of the clay that composed him. It was +the quality that was peculiarly the possession of his kind; the quality +that set apart his species from all other species; the quality that +has enabled the wolf and the wild dog to come in from the open and be +the companions of man. + +After the beating, White Fang was dragged back to the fort. +But this time Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick. One does +not give up a god easily, and so with White Fang. Grey Beaver +was his own particular god, and, in spite of Grey Beaver’s will, +White Fang still clung to him and would not give him up. Grey +Beaver had betrayed and forsaken him, but that had no effect upon him. +Not for nothing had he surrendered himself body and soul to Grey Beaver. +There had been no reservation on White Fang’s part, and the bond +was not to be broken easily. + +So, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, White Fang +applied his teeth to the stick that held him. The wood was seasoned +and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely +get his teeth to it. It was only by the severest muscular exertion +and neck-arching that he succeeded in getting the wood between his teeth, +and barely between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise +of an immense patience, extending through many hours, that he succeeded +in gnawing through the stick. This was something that dogs were +not supposed to do. It was unprecedented. But White Fang +did it, trotting away from the fort in the early morning, with the end +of the stick hanging to his neck. + +He was wise. But had he been merely wise he would not have +gone back to Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him. But +there was his faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third +time. Again he yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck +by Grey Beaver, and again Beauty Smith came to claim him. And +this time he was beaten even more severely than before. + +Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. +He gave no protection. It was no longer his dog. When the +beating was over White Fang was sick. A soft southland dog would +have died under it, but not he. His school of life had been sterner, +and he was himself of sterner stuff. He had too great vitality. +His clutch on life was too strong. But he was very sick. +At first he was unable to drag himself along, and Beauty Smith had to +wait half-an-hour for him. And then, blind and reeling, he followed +at Beauty Smith’s heels back to the fort. + +But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth, and he strove +in vain, by lunging, to draw the staple from the timber into which it +was driven. After a few days, sober and bankrupt, Grey Beaver +departed up the Porcupine on his long journey to the Mackenzie. +White Fang remained on the Yukon, the property of a man more than half +mad and all brute. But what is a dog to know in its consciousness +of madness? To White Fang, Beauty Smith was a veritable, if terrible, +god. He was a mad god at best, but White Fang knew nothing of +madness; he knew only that he must submit to the will of this new master, +obey his every whim and fancy. + +### The Reign of Hate + +Under the tutelage of the mad god, White Fang became a fiend. +He was kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and here Beauty +Smith teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments. +The man early discovered White Fang’s susceptibility to laughter, +and made it a point after painfully tricking him, to laugh at him. +This laughter was uproarious and scornful, and at the same time the +god pointed his finger derisively at White Fang. At such times +reason fled from White Fang, and in his transports of rage he was even +more mad than Beauty Smith. + +Formerly, White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind, withal +a ferocious enemy. He now became the enemy of all things, and +more ferocious than ever. To such an extent was he tormented, +that he hated blindly and without the faintest spark of reason. +He hated the chain that bound him, the men who peered in at him through +the slats of the pen, the dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled +malignantly at him in his helplessness. He hated the very wood +of the pen that confined him. And, first, last, and most of all, +he hated Beauty Smith. + +But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang. +One day a number of men gathered about the pen. Beauty Smith entered, +club in hand, and took the chain off from White Fang’s neck. +When his master had gone out, White Fang turned loose and tore around +the pen, trying to get at the men outside. He was magnificently +terrible. Fully five feet in length, and standing two and one-half +feet at the shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding size. +From his mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of the dog, +so that he weighed, without any fat and without an ounce of superfluous +flesh, over ninety pounds. It was all muscle, bone, and sinew-fighting +flesh in the finest condition. + +The door of the pen was being opened again. White Fang paused. +Something unusual was happening. He waited. The door was +opened wider. Then a huge dog was thrust inside, and the door +was slammed shut behind him. White Fang had never seen such a +dog (it was a mastiff); but the size and fierce aspect of the intruder +did not deter him. Here was some thing, not wood nor iron, upon +which to wreak his hate. He leaped in with a flash of fangs that +ripped down the side of the mastiff’s neck. The mastiff +shook his head, growled hoarsely, and plunged at White Fang. But +White Fang was here, there, and everywhere, always evading and eluding, +and always leaping in and slashing with his fangs and leaping out again +in time to escape punishment. + +The men outside shouted and applauded, while Beauty Smith, in an +ecstasy of delight, gloated over the ripping and mangling performed +by White Fang. There was no hope for the mastiff from the first. +He was too ponderous and slow. In the end, while Beauty Smith +beat White Fang back with a club, the mastiff was dragged out by its +owner. Then there was a payment of bets, and money clinked in +Beauty Smith’s hand. + +White Fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men +around his pen. It meant a fight; and this was the only way that +was now vouchsafed him of expressing the life that was in him. +Tormented, incited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so that there was +no way of satisfying that hate except at the times his master saw fit +to put another dog against him. Beauty Smith had estimated his +powers well, for he was invariably the victor. One day, three +dogs were turned in upon him in succession. Another day a full-grown +wolf, fresh-caught from the Wild, was shoved in through the door of +the pen. And on still another day two dogs were set against him +at the same time. This was his severest fight, and though in the +end he killed them both he was himself half killed in doing it. + +In the fall of the year, when the first snows were falling and mush-ice +was running in the river, Beauty Smith took passage for himself and +White Fang on a steamboat bound up the Yukon to Dawson. White +Fang had now achieved a reputation in the land. As “the +Fighting Wolf” he was known far and wide, and the cage in which +he was kept on the steam-boat’s deck was usually surrounded by +curious men. He raged and snarled at them, or lay quietly and +studied them with cold hatred. Why should he not hate them? +He never asked himself the question. He knew only hate and lost +himself in the passion of it. Life had become a hell to him. +He had not been made for the close confinement wild beasts endure at +the hands of men. And yet it was in precisely this way that he +was treated. Men stared at him, poked sticks between the bars +to make him snarl, and then laughed at him. + +They were his environment, these men, and they were moulding the +clay of him into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by Nature. +Nevertheless, Nature had given him plasticity. Where many another +animal would have died or had its spirit broken, he adjusted himself +and lived, and at no expense of the spirit. Possibly Beauty Smith, +arch-fiend and tormentor, was capable of breaking White Fang’s +spirit, but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding. + +If Beauty Smith had in him a devil, White Fang had another; and the +two of them raged against each other unceasingly. In the days +before, White Fang had had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a +man with a club in his hand; but this wisdom now left him. The +mere sight of Beauty Smith was sufficient to send him into transports +of fury. And when they came to close quarters, and he had been +beaten back by the club, he went on growling and snarling, and showing +his fangs. The last growl could never be extracted from him. +No matter how terribly he was beaten, he had always another growl; and +when Beauty Smith gave up and withdrew, the defiant growl followed after +him, or White Fang sprang at the bars of the cage bellowing his hatred. + +When the steamboat arrived at Dawson, White Fang went ashore. +But he still lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by curious men. +He was exhibited as “the Fighting Wolf,” and men paid fifty +cents in gold dust to see him. He was given no rest. Did +he lie down to sleep, he was stirred up by a sharp stick—so that +the audience might get its money’s worth. In order to make +the exhibition interesting, he was kept in a rage most of the time. +But worse than all this, was the atmosphere in which he lived. +He was regarded as the most fearful of wild beasts, and this was borne +in to him through the bars of the cage. Every word, every cautious +action, on the part of the men, impressed upon him his own terrible +ferocity. It was so much added fuel to the flame of his fierceness. +There could be but one result, and that was that his ferocity fed upon +itself and increased. It was another instance of the plasticity +of his clay, of his capacity for being moulded by the pressure of environment. + +In addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting animal. +At irregular intervals, whenever a fight could be arranged, he was taken +out of his cage and led off into the woods a few miles from town. +Usually this occurred at night, so as to avoid interference from the +mounted police of the Territory. After a few hours of waiting, +when daylight had come, the audience and the dog with which he was to +fight arrived. In this manner it came about that he fought all +sizes and breeds of dogs. It was a savage land, the men were savage, +and the fights were usually to the death. + +Since White Fang continued to fight, it is obvious that it was the +other dogs that died. He never knew defeat. His early training, +when he fought with Lip-lip and the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good +stead. There was the tenacity with which he clung to the earth. +No dog could make him lose his footing. This was the favourite +trick of the wolf breeds—to rush in upon him, either directly +or with an unexpected swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder and +overthrowing him. Mackenzie hounds, Eskimo and Labrador dogs, +huskies and Malemutes—all tried it on him, and all failed. +He was never known to lose his footing. Men told this to one another, +and looked each time to see it happen; but White Fang always disappointed +them. + +Then there was his lightning quickness. It gave him a tremendous +advantage over his antagonists. No matter what their fighting +experience, they had never encountered a dog that moved so swiftly as +he. Also to be reckoned with, was the immediateness of his attack. +The average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of snarling and +bristling and growling, and the average dog was knocked off his feet +and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered from his surprise. +So often did this happen, that it became the custom to hold White Fang +until the other dog went through its preliminaries, was good and ready, +and even made the first attack. + +But greatest of all the advantages in White Fang’s favour, +was his experience. He knew more about fighting than did any of +the dogs that faced him. He had fought more fights, knew how to +meet more tricks and methods, and had more tricks himself, while his +own method was scarcely to be improved upon. + +As the time went by, he had fewer and fewer fights. Men despaired +of matching him with an equal, and Beauty Smith was compelled to pit +wolves against him. These were trapped by the Indians for the +purpose, and a fight between White Fang and a wolf was always sure to +draw a crowd. Once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, and +this time White Fang fought for his life. Her quickness matched +his; her ferocity equalled his; while he fought with his fangs alone, +and she fought with her sharp-clawed feet as well. + +But after the lynx, all fighting ceased for White Fang. There +were no more animals with which to fight—at least, there was none +considered worthy of fighting with him. So he remained on exhibition +until spring, when one Tim Keenan, a faro-dealer, arrived in the land. +With him came the first bull-dog that had ever entered the Klondike. +That this dog and White Fang should come together was inevitable, and +for a week the anticipated fight was the mainspring of conversation +in certain quarters of the town. + +### The Clinging Death + +Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back. + +For once White Fang did not make an immediate attack. He stood +still, ears pricked forward, alert and curious, surveying the strange +animal that faced him. He had never seen such a dog before. +Tim Keenan shoved the bull-dog forward with a muttered “Go to +it.” The animal waddled toward the centre of the circle, +short and squat and ungainly. He came to a stop and blinked across +at White Fang. + +There were cries from the crowd of, “Go to him, Cherokee! +Sick ’m, Cherokee! Eat ’m up!” + +But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. He turned his head +and blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump +of a tail good-naturedly. He was not afraid, but merely lazy. +Besides, it did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight +with the dog he saw before him. He was not used to fighting with +that kind of dog, and he was waiting for them to bring on the real dog. + +Tim Keenan stepped in and bent over Cherokee, fondling him on both +sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the +hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. These were +so many suggestions. Also, their effect was irritating, for Cherokee +began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. There was +a correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the movements of the +man’s hands. The growl rose in the throat with the culmination +of each forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh +with the beginning of the next movement. The end of each movement +was the accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the growling +rising with a jerk. + +This was not without its effect on White Fang. The hair began +to rise on his neck and across the shoulders. Tim Keenan gave +a final shove forward and stepped back again. As the impetus that +carried Cherokee forward died down, he continued to go forward of his +own volition, in a swift, bow-legged run. Then White Fang struck. +A cry of startled admiration went up. He had covered the distance +and gone in more like a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness +he had slashed with his fangs and leaped clear. + +The bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick +neck. He gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed +after White Fang. The display on both sides, the quickness of +the one and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit +of the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing original +bets. Again, and yet again, White Fang sprang in, slashed, and +got away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after him, without +too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly, in a +businesslike sort of way. There was purpose in his method—something +for him to do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing could +distract him. + +His whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. +It puzzled White Fang. Never had he seen such a dog. It +had no hair protection. It was soft, and bled easily. There +was no thick mat of fur to baffle White Fang’s teeth as they were +often baffled by dogs of his own breed. Each time that his teeth +struck they sank easily into the yielding flesh, while the animal did +not seem able to defend itself. Another disconcerting thing was +that it made no outcry, such as he had been accustomed to with the other +dogs he had fought. Beyond a growl or a grunt, the dog took its +punishment silently. And never did it flag in its pursuit of him. + +Not that Cherokee was slow. He could turn and whirl swiftly +enough, but White Fang was never there. Cherokee was puzzled, +too. He had never fought before with a dog with which he could +not close. The desire to close had always been mutual. But +here was a dog that kept at a distance, dancing and dodging here and +there and all about. And when it did get its teeth into him, it +did not hold on but let go instantly and darted away again. + +But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. +The bull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added protection. +White Fang darted in and out unscathed, while Cherokee’s wounds +increased. Both sides of his neck and head were ripped and slashed. +He bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. He +continued his plodding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, +he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the +same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of his willingness +to fight. + +In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out, in passing ripping +his trimmed remnant of an ear. With a slight manifestation of +anger, Cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside of +the circle White Fang was making, and striving to fasten his deadly +grip on White Fang’s throat. The bull-dog missed by a hair’s-breadth, +and cries of praise went up as White Fang doubled suddenly out of danger +in the opposite direction. + +The time went by. White Fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, +leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage. And still the +bull-dog, with grim certitude, toiled after him. Sooner or later +he would accomplish his purpose, get the grip that would win the battle. +In the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other could deal +him. His tufts of ears had become tassels, his neck and shoulders +were slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were cut and bleeding—all +from these lightning snaps that were beyond his foreseeing and guarding. + +Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off his +feet; but the difference in their height was too great. Cherokee +was too squat, too close to the ground. White Fang tried the trick +once too often. The chance came in one of his quick doublings +and counter-circlings. He caught Cherokee with head turned away +as he whirled more slowly. His shoulder was exposed. White +Fang drove in upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he +struck with such force that his momentum carried him on across over +the other’s body. For the first time in his fighting history, +men saw White Fang lose his footing. His body turned a half-somersault +in the air, and he would have landed on his back had he not twisted, +catlike, still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. +As it was, he struck heavily on his side. The next instant he +was on his feet, but in that instant Cherokee’s teeth closed on +his throat. + +It was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; but +Cherokee held on. White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly +around, trying to shake off the bull-dog’s body. It made +him frantic, this clinging, dragging weight. It bound his movements, +restricted his freedom. It was like the trap, and all his instinct +resented it and revolted against it. It was a mad revolt. +For several minutes he was to all intents insane. The basic life +that was in him took charge of him. The will to exist of his body +surged over him. He was dominated by this mere flesh-love of life. +All intelligence was gone. It was as though he had no brain. +His reason was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist +and move, at all hazards to move, to continue to move, for movement +was the expression of its existence. + +Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, trying +to shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. +The bull-dog did little but keep his grip. Sometimes, and rarely, +he managed to get his feet to the earth and for a moment to brace himself +against White Fang. But the next moment his footing would be lost +and he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of White Fang’s +mad gyrations. Cherokee identified himself with his instinct. +He knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there came +to him certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. At such moments +he even closed his eyes and allowed his body to be hurled hither and +thither, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might thereby come to +it. That did not count. The grip was the thing, and the +grip he kept. + +White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. He could +do nothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, +had this thing happened. The dogs he had fought with did not fight +that way. With them it was snap and slash and get away, snap and +slash and get away. He lay partly on his side, panting for breath. +Cherokee still holding his grip, urged against him, trying to get him +over entirely on his side. White Fang resisted, and he could feel +the jaws shifting their grip, slightly relaxing and coming together +again in a chewing movement. Each shift brought the grip closer +to his throat. The bull-dog’s method was to hold what he +had, and when opportunity favoured to work in for more. Opportunity +favoured when White Fang remained quiet. When White Fang struggled, +Cherokee was content merely to hold on. + +The bulging back of Cherokee’s neck was the only portion of +his body that White Fang’s teeth could reach. He got hold +toward the base where the neck comes out from the shoulders; but he +did not know the chewing method of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted +to it. He spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. +Then a change in their position diverted him. The bull-dog had +managed to roll him over on his back, and still hanging on to his throat, +was on top of him. Like a cat, White Fang bowed his hind-quarters +in, and, with the feet digging into his enemy’s abdomen above +him, he began to claw with long tearing-strokes. Cherokee might +well have been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted on his grip +and got his body off of White Fang’s and at right angles to it. + +There was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and +as inexorable. Slowly it shifted up along the jugular. All +that saved White Fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and +the thick fur that covered it. This served to form a large roll +in Cherokee’s mouth, the fur of which well-nigh defied his teeth. +But bit by bit, whenever the chance offered, he was getting more of +the loose skin and fur in his mouth. The result was that he was +slowly throttling White Fang. The latter’s breath was drawn +with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by. + +It began to look as though the battle were over. The backers +of Cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. White +Fang’s backers were correspondingly depressed, and refused bets +of ten to one and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close +a wager of fifty to one. This man was Beauty Smith. He took +a step into the ring and pointed his finger at White Fang. Then +he began to laugh derisively and scornfully. This produced the +desired effect. White Fang went wild with rage. He called +up his reserves of strength, and gained his feet. As he struggled +around the ring, the fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on his throat, +his anger passed on into panic. The basic life of him dominated +him again, and his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to +live. Round and round and back again, stumbling and falling and +rising, even uprearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe +clear of the earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death. + +At last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted; and the bull-dog promptly +shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more of the fur-folded +flesh, throttling White Fang more severely than ever. Shouts of +applause went up for the victor, and there were many cries of “Cherokee!” +“Cherokee!” To this Cherokee responded by vigorous +wagging of the stump of his tail. But the clamour of approval +did not distract him. There was no sympathetic relation between +his tail and his massive jaws. The one might wag, but the others +held their terrible grip on White Fang’s throat. + +It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. +There was a jingle of bells. Dog-mushers’ cries were heard. +Everybody, save Beauty Smith, looked apprehensively, the fear of the +police strong upon them. But they saw, up the trail, and not down, +two men running with sled and dogs. They were evidently coming +down the creek from some prospecting trip. At sight of the crowd +they stopped their dogs and came over and joined it, curious to see +the cause of the excitement. The dog-musher wore a moustache, +but the other, a taller and younger man, was smooth-shaven, his skin +rosy from the pounding of his blood and the running in the frosty air. + +White Fang had practically ceased struggling. Now and again +he resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little +air, and that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that +ever tightened. In spite of his armour of fur, the great vein +of his throat would have long since been torn open, had not the first +grip of the bull-dog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. +It had taken Cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward, and this +had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skin-fold. + +In the meantime, the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising +into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed +at best. When he saw White Fang’s eyes beginning to glaze, +he knew beyond doubt that the fight was lost. Then he broke loose. +He sprang upon White Fang and began savagely to kick him. There +were hisses from the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. +While this went on, and Beauty Smith continued to kick White Fang, there +was a commotion in the crowd. The tall young newcomer was forcing +his way through, shouldering men right and left without ceremony or +gentleness. When he broke through into the ring, Beauty Smith +was just in the act of delivering another kick. All his weight +was on one foot, and he was in a state of unstable equilibrium. +At that moment the newcomer’s fist landed a smashing blow full +in his face. Beauty Smith’s remaining leg left the ground, +and his whole body seemed to lift into the air as he turned over backward +and struck the snow. The newcomer turned upon the crowd. + +“You cowards!” he cried. “You beasts!” + +He was in a rage himself—a sane rage. His grey eyes seemed +metallic and steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. Beauty +Smith regained his feet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. +The new-comer did not understand. He did not know how abject a +coward the other was, and thought he was coming back intent on fighting. +So, with a “You beast!” he smashed Beauty Smith over backward +with a second blow in the face. Beauty Smith decided that the +snow was the safest place for him, and lay where he had fallen, making +no effort to get up. + +“Come on, Matt, lend a hand,” the newcomer called the +dog-musher, who had followed him into the ring. + +Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took hold of White Fang, +ready to pull when Cherokee’s jaws should be loosened. This +the younger man endeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog’s +jaws in his hands and trying to spread them. It was a vain undertaking. +As he pulled and tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming with every +expulsion of breath, “Beasts!” + +The crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protesting +against the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when the newcomer +lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at them. + +“You damn beasts!” he finally exploded, and went back +to his task. + +“It’s no use, Mr. Scott, you can’t break ’m +apart that way,” Matt said at last. + +The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs. + +“Ain’t bleedin’ much,” Matt announced. +“Ain’t got all the way in yet.” + +“But he’s liable to any moment,” Scott answered. +“There, did you see that! He shifted his grip in a bit.” + +The younger man’s excitement and apprehension for White Fang +was growing. He struck Cherokee about the head savagely again +and again. But that did not loosen the jaws. Cherokee wagged +the stump of his tail in advertisement that he understood the meaning +of the blows, but that he knew he was himself in the right and only +doing his duty by keeping his grip. + +“Won’t some of you help?” Scott cried desperately +at the crowd. + +But no help was offered. Instead, the crowd began sarcastically +to cheer him on and showered him with facetious advice. + +“You’ll have to get a pry,” Matt counselled. + +The other reached into the holster at his hip, drew his revolver, +and tried to thrust its muzzle between the bull-dog’s jaws. +He shoved, and shoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the +locked teeth could be distinctly heard. Both men were on their +knees, bending over the dogs. Tim Keenan strode into the ring. +He paused beside Scott and touched him on the shoulder, saying ominously: + +“Don’t break them teeth, stranger.” + +“Then I’ll break his neck,” Scott retorted, continuing +his shoving and wedging with the revolver muzzle. + +“I said don’t break them teeth,” the faro-dealer +repeated more ominously than before. + +But if it was a bluff he intended, it did not work. Scott never +desisted from his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked: + +“Your dog?” + +The faro-dealer grunted. + +“Then get in here and break this grip.” + +“Well, stranger,” the other drawled irritatingly, “I +don’t mind telling you that’s something I ain’t worked +out for myself. I don’t know how to turn the trick.” + +“Then get out of the way,” was the reply, “and +don’t bother me. I’m busy.” + +Tim Keenan continued standing over him, but Scott took no further +notice of his presence. He had managed to get the muzzle in between +the jaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws +on the other side. This accomplished, he pried gently and carefully, +loosening the jaws a bit at a time, while Matt, a bit at a time, extricated +White Fang’s mangled neck. + +“Stand by to receive your dog,” was Scott’s peremptory +order to Cherokee’s owner. + +The faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on Cherokee. + +“Now!” Scott warned, giving the final pry. + +The dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously. + +“Take him away,” Scott commanded, and Tim Keenan dragged +Cherokee back into the crowd. + +White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. Once +he gained his feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he +slowly wilted and sank back into the snow. His eyes were half +closed, and the surface of them was glassy. His jaws were apart, +and through them the tongue protruded, draggled and limp. To all +appearances he looked like a dog that had been strangled to death. +Matt examined him. + +“Just about all in,” he announced; “but he’s +breathin’ all right.” + +Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at White +Fang. + +“Matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?” Scott asked. + +The dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over White Fang, calculated +for a moment. + +“Three hundred dollars,” he answered. + +“And how much for one that’s all chewed up like this +one?” Scott asked, nudging White Fang with his foot. + +“Half of that,” was the dog-musher’s judgment. +Scott turned upon Beauty Smith. + +“Did you hear, Mr. Beast? I’m going to take your +dog from you, and I’m going to give you a hundred and fifty for +him.” + +He opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills. + +Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the +proffered money. + +“I ain’t a-sellin’,” he said. + +“Oh, yes you are,” the other assured him. “Because +I’m buying. Here’s your money. The dog’s +mine.” + +Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away. + +Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty +Smith cowered down in anticipation of the blow. + +“I’ve got my rights,” he whimpered. + +“You’ve forfeited your rights to own that dog,” +was the rejoinder. “Are you going to take the money? or +do I have to hit you again?” + +“All right,” Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity +of fear. “But I take the money under protest,” he +added. “The dog’s a mint. I ain’t a-goin’ +to be robbed. A man’s got his rights.” + +“Correct,” Scott answered, passing the money over to +him. “A man’s got his rights. But you’re +not a man. You’re a beast.” + +“Wait till I get back to Dawson,” Beauty Smith threatened. +“I’ll have the law on you.” + +“If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I’ll +have you run out of town. Understand?” + +Beauty Smith replied with a grunt. + +“Understand?” the other thundered with abrupt fierceness. + +“Yes,” Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away. + +“Yes what?” + +“Yes, sir,” Beauty Smith snarled. + +“Look out! He’ll bite!” some one shouted, +and a guffaw of laughter went up. + +Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, +who was working over White Fang. + +Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, looking +on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups. + +“Who’s that mug?” he asked. + +“Weedon Scott,” some one answered. + +“And who in hell is Weedon Scott?” the faro-dealer demanded. + +“Oh, one of them crackerjack minin’ experts. He’s +in with all the big bugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, +you’ll steer clear of him, that’s my talk. He’s +all hunky with the officials. The Gold Commissioner’s a +special pal of his.” + +“I thought he must be somebody,” was the faro-dealer’s +comment. “That’s why I kept my hands offen him at +the start.” + +### The Indomitable + +“It’s hopeless,” Weedon Scott confessed. + +He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who +responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless. + +Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched chain, +bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the sled-dogs. +Having received sundry lessons from Matt, said lessons being imparted +by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to leave White Fang alone; +and even then they were lying down at a distance, apparently oblivious +of his existence. + +“It’s a wolf and there’s no taming it,” Weedon +Scott announced. + +“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Matt objected. +“Might be a lot of dog in ’m, for all you can tell. +But there’s one thing I know sure, an’ that there’s +no gettin’ away from.” + +The dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at Moosehide +Mountain. + +“Well, don’t be a miser with what you know,” Scott +said sharply, after waiting a suitable length of time. “Spit +it out. What is it?” + +The dog-musher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his +thumb. + +“Wolf or dog, it’s all the same—he’s ben +tamed ’ready.” + +“No!” + +“I tell you yes, an’ broke to harness. Look close +there. D’ye see them marks across the chest?” + +“You’re right, Matt. He was a sled-dog before Beauty +Smith got hold of him.” + +“And there’s not much reason against his bein’ +a sled-dog again.” + +“What d’ye think?” Scott queried eagerly. +Then the hope died down as he added, shaking his head, “We’ve +had him two weeks now, and if anything he’s wilder than ever at +the present moment.” + +“Give ’m a chance,” Matt counselled. “Turn +’m loose for a spell.” + +The other looked at him incredulously. + +“Yes,” Matt went on, “I know you’ve tried +to, but you didn’t take a club.” + +“You try it then.” + +The dog-musher secured a club and went over to the chained animal. +White Fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion watching +the whip of its trainer. + +“See ’m keep his eye on that club,” Matt said. +“That’s a good sign. He’s no fool. Don’t +dast tackle me so long as I got that club handy. He’s not +clean crazy, sure.” + +As the man’s hand approached his neck, White Fang bristled +and snarled and crouched down. But while he eyed the approaching +hand, he at the same time contrived to keep track of the club in the +other hand, suspended threateningly above him. Matt unsnapped +the chain from the collar and stepped back. + +White Fang could scarcely realise that he was free. Many months +had gone by since he passed into the possession of Beauty Smith, and +in all that period he had never known a moment of freedom except at +the times he had been loosed to fight with other dogs. Immediately +after such fights he had always been imprisoned again. + +He did not know what to make of it. Perhaps some new devilry +of the gods was about to be perpetrated on him. He walked slowly +and cautiously, prepared to be assailed at any moment. He did +not know what to do, it was all so unprecedented. He took the +precaution to sheer off from the two watching gods, and walked carefully +to the corner of the cabin. Nothing happened. He was plainly +perplexed, and he came back again, pausing a dozen feet away and regarding +the two men intently. + +“Won’t he run away?” his new owner asked. + +Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Got to take a gamble. +Only way to find out is to find out.” + +“Poor devil,” Scott murmured pityingly. “What +he needs is some show of human kindness,” he added, turning and +going into the cabin. + +He came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to White Fang. +He sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously. + +“Hi-yu, Major!” Matt shouted warningly, but too late. + +Major had made a spring for the meat. At the instant his jaws +closed on it, White Fang struck him. He was overthrown. +Matt rushed in, but quicker than he was White Fang. Major staggered +to his feet, but the blood spouting from his throat reddened the snow +in a widening path. + +“It’s too bad, but it served him right,” Scott +said hastily. + +But Matt’s foot had already started on its way to kick White +Fang. There was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. +White Fang, snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, +while Matt stooped and investigated his leg. + +“He got me all right,” he announced, pointing to the +torn trousers and undercloths, and the growing stain of red. + +“I told you it was hopeless, Matt,” Scott said in a discouraged +voice. “I’ve thought about it off and on, while not +wanting to think of it. But we’ve come to it now. +It’s the only thing to do.” + +As he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threw +open the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents. + +“Look here, Mr. Scott,” Matt objected; “that dog’s +ben through hell. You can’t expect ’m to come out +a white an’ shinin’ angel. Give ’m time.” + +“Look at Major,” the other rejoined. + +The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. He had sunk down +on the snow in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp. + +“Served ’m right. You said so yourself, Mr. Scott. +He tried to take White Fang’s meat, an’ he’s dead-O. +That was to be expected. I wouldn’t give two whoops in hell +for a dog that wouldn’t fight for his own meat.” + +“But look at yourself, Matt. It’s all right about +the dogs, but we must draw the line somewhere.” + +“Served me right,” Matt argued stubbornly. “What’d +I want to kick ’m for? You said yourself that he’d +done right. Then I had no right to kick ’m.” + +“It would be a mercy to kill him,” Scott insisted. +“He’s untamable.” + +“Now look here, Mr. Scott, give the poor devil a fightin’ +chance. He ain’t had no chance yet. He’s just +come through hell, an’ this is the first time he’s ben loose. +Give ’m a fair chance, an’ if he don’t deliver the +goods, I’ll kill ’m myself. There!” + +“God knows I don’t want to kill him or have him killed,” +Scott answered, putting away the revolver. “We’ll +let him run loose and see what kindness can do for him. And here’s +a try at it.” + +He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and +soothingly. + +“Better have a club handy,” Matt warned. + +Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fang’s +confidence. + +White Fang was suspicious. Something was impending. He +had killed this god’s dog, bitten his companion god, and what +else was to be expected than some terrible punishment? But in +the face of it he was indomitable. He bristled and showed his +teeth, his eyes vigilant, his whole body wary and prepared for anything. +The god had no club, so he suffered him to approach quite near. +The god’s hand had come out and was descending upon his head. +White Fang shrank together and grew tense as he crouched under it. +Here was danger, some treachery or something. He knew the hands +of the gods, their proved mastery, their cunning to hurt. Besides, +there was his old antipathy to being touched. He snarled more +menacingly, crouched still lower, and still the hand descended. +He did not want to bite the hand, and he endured the peril of it until +his instinct surged up in him, mastering him with its insatiable yearning +for life. + +Weedon Scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap +or slash. But he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of +White Fang, who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled +snake. + +Scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand and +holding it tightly in his other hand. Matt uttered a great oath +and sprang to his side. White Fang crouched down, and backed away, +bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malignant with menace. +Now he could expect a beating as fearful as any he had received from +Beauty Smith. + +“Here! What are you doing?” Scott cried suddenly. + +Matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle. + +“Nothin’,” he said slowly, with a careless calmness +that was assumed, “only goin’ to keep that promise I made. +I reckon it’s up to me to kill ’m as I said I’d do.” + +“No you don’t!” + +“Yes I do. Watch me.” + +As Matt had pleaded for White Fang when he had been bitten, it was +now Weedon Scott’s turn to plead. + +“You said to give him a chance. Well, give it to him. +We’ve only just started, and we can’t quit at the beginning. +It served me right, this time. And—look at him!” + +White Fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away, was +snarling with blood-curdling viciousness, not at Scott, but at the dog-musher. + +“Well, I’ll be everlastingly gosh-swoggled!” was +the dog-musher’s expression of astonishment. + +“Look at the intelligence of him,” Scott went on hastily. +“He knows the meaning of firearms as well as you do. He’s +got intelligence and we’ve got to give that intelligence a chance. +Put up the gun.” + +“All right, I’m willin’,” Matt agreed, leaning +the rifle against the woodpile. + +“But will you look at that!” he exclaimed the next moment. + +White Fang had quieted down and ceased snarling. “This +is worth investigatin’. Watch.” + +Matt, reached for the rifle, and at the same moment White Fang snarled. +He stepped away from the rifle, and White Fang’s lifted lips descended, +covering his teeth. + +“Now, just for fun.” + +Matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder. +White Fang’s snarling began with the movement, and increased as +the movement approached its culmination. But the moment before +the rifle came to a level on him, he leaped sidewise behind the corner +of the cabin. Matt stood staring along the sights at the empty +space of snow which had been occupied by White Fang. + +The dog-musher put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked +at his employer. + +“I agree with you, Mr. Scott. That dog’s too intelligent +to kill.” + +### The Love-Master + +As White Fang watched Weedon Scott approach, he bristled and snarled +to advertise that he would not submit to punishment. Twenty-four +hours had passed since he had slashed open the hand that was now bandaged +and held up by a sling to keep the blood out of it. In the past +White Fang had experienced delayed punishments, and he apprehended that +such a one was about to befall him. How could it be otherwise? +He had committed what was to him sacrilege, sunk his fangs into the +holy flesh of a god, and of a white-skinned superior god at that. +In the nature of things, and of intercourse with gods, something terrible +awaited him. + +The god sat down several feet away. White Fang could see nothing +dangerous in that. When the gods administered punishment they +stood on their legs. Besides, this god had no club, no whip, no +firearm. And furthermore, he himself was free. No chain +nor stick bound him. He could escape into safety while the god +was scrambling to his feet. In the meantime he would wait and +see. + +The god remained quiet, made no movement; and White Fang’s +snarl slowly dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased. +Then the god spoke, and at the first sound of his voice, the hair rose +on White Fang’s neck and the growl rushed up in his throat. +But the god made no hostile movement, and went on calmly talking. +For a time White Fang growled in unison with him, a correspondence of +rhythm being established between growl and voice. But the god +talked on interminably. He talked to White Fang as White Fang +had never been talked to before. He talked softly and soothingly, +with a gentleness that somehow, somewhere, touched White Fang. +In spite of himself and all the pricking warnings of his instinct, White +Fang began to have confidence in this god. He had a feeling of +security that was belied by all his experience with men. + +After a long time, the god got up and went into the cabin. +White Fang scanned him apprehensively when he came out. He had +neither whip nor club nor weapon. Nor was his uninjured hand behind +his back hiding something. He sat down as before, in the same +spot, several feet away. He held out a small piece of meat. +White Fang pricked his ears and investigated it suspiciously, managing +to look at the same time both at the meat and the god, alert for any +overt act, his body tense and ready to spring away at the first sign +of hostility. + +Still the punishment delayed. The god merely held near to his +nose a piece of meat. And about the meat there seemed nothing +wrong. Still White Fang suspected; and though the meat was proffered +to him with short inviting thrusts of the hand, he refused to touch +it. The gods were all-wise, and there was no telling what masterful +treachery lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of meat. +In past experience, especially in dealing with squaws, meat and punishment +had often been disastrously related. + +In the end, the god tossed the meat on the snow at White Fang’s +feet. He smelled the meat carefully; but he did not look at it. +While he smelled it he kept his eyes on the god. Nothing happened. +He took the meat into his mouth and swallowed it. Still nothing +happened. The god was actually offering him another piece of meat. +Again he refused to take it from the hand, and again it was tossed to +him. This was repeated a number of times. But there came +a time when the god refused to toss it. He kept it in his hand +and steadfastly proffered it. + +The meat was good meat, and White Fang was hungry. Bit by bit, +infinitely cautious, he approached the hand. At last the time +came that he decided to eat the meat from the hand. He never took +his eyes from the god, thrusting his head forward with ears flattened +back and hair involuntarily rising and cresting on his neck. Also +a low growl rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to be trifled +with. He ate the meat, and nothing happened. Piece by piece, +he ate all the meat, and nothing happened. Still the punishment +delayed. + +He licked his chops and waited. The god went on talking. +In his voice was kindness—something of which White Fang had no +experience whatever. And within him it aroused feelings which +he had likewise never experienced before. He was aware of a certain +strange satisfaction, as though some need were being gratified, as though +some void in his being were being filled. Then again came the +prod of his instinct and the warning of past experience. The gods +were ever crafty, and they had unguessed ways of attaining their ends. + +Ah, he had thought so! There it came now, the god’s hand, +cunning to hurt, thrusting out at him, descending upon his head. +But the god went on talking. His voice was soft and soothing. +In spite of the menacing hand, the voice inspired confidence. +And in spite of the assuring voice, the hand inspired distrust. +White Fang was torn by conflicting feelings, impulses. It seemed +he would fly to pieces, so terrible was the control he was exerting, +holding together by an unwonted indecision the counter-forces that struggled +within him for mastery. + +He compromised. He snarled and bristled and flattened his ears. +But he neither snapped nor sprang away. The hand descended. +Nearer and nearer it came. It touched the ends of his upstanding +hair. He shrank down under it. It followed down after him, +pressing more closely against him. Shrinking, almost shivering, +he still managed to hold himself together. It was a torment, this +hand that touched him and violated his instinct. He could not +forget in a day all the evil that had been wrought him at the hands +of men. But it was the will of the god, and he strove to submit. + +The hand lifted and descended again in a patting, caressing movement. +This continued, but every time the hand lifted, the hair lifted under +it. And every time the hand descended, the ears flattened down +and a cavernous growl surged in his throat. White Fang growled +and growled with insistent warning. By this means he announced +that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive. +There was no telling when the god’s ulterior motive might be disclosed. +At any moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice might break forth +in a roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand transform itself +into a vice-like grip to hold him helpless and administer punishment. + +But the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with +non-hostile pats. White Fang experienced dual feelings. +It was distasteful to his instinct. It restrained him, opposed +the will of him toward personal liberty. And yet it was not physically +painful. On the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical +way. The patting movement slowly and carefully changed to a rubbing +of the ears about their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased +a little. Yet he continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant +of unguessed evil, alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling +or the other came uppermost and swayed him. + +“Well, I’ll be gosh-swoggled!” + +So spoke Matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a +pan of dirty dish-water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying +the pan by the sight of Weedon Scott patting White Fang. + +At the instant his voice broke the silence, White Fang leaped back, +snarling savagely at him. + +Matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval. + +“If you don’t mind my expressin’ my feelin’s, +Mr. Scott, I’ll make free to say you’re seventeen kinds +of a damn fool an’ all of ’em different, an’ then +some.” + +Weedon Scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked +over to White Fang. He talked soothingly to him, but not for long, +then slowly put out his hand, rested it on White Fang’s head, +and resumed the interrupted patting. White Fang endured it, keeping +his eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that patted him, but upon +the man that stood in the doorway. + +“You may be a number one, tip-top minin’ expert, all +right all right,” the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, +“but you missed the chance of your life when you was a boy an’ +didn’t run off an’ join a circus.” + +White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not +leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back +of his neck with long, soothing strokes. + +It was the beginning of the end for White Fang—the ending of +the old life and the reign of hate. A new and incomprehensibly +fairer life was dawning. It required much thinking and endless +patience on the part of Weedon Scott to accomplish this. And on +the part of White Fang it required nothing less than a revolution. +He had to ignore the urges and promptings of instinct and reason, defy +experience, give the lie to life itself. + +Life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much +that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to which +he now abandoned himself. In short, when all things were considered, +he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one he had achieved +at the time he came voluntarily in from the Wild and accepted Grey Beaver +as his lord. At that time he was a mere puppy, soft from the making, +without form, ready for the thumb of circumstance to begin its work +upon him. But now it was different. The thumb of circumstance +had done its work only too well. By it he had been formed and +hardened into the Fighting Wolf, fierce and implacable, unloving and +unlovable. To accomplish the change was like a reflux of being, +and this when the plasticity of youth was no longer his; when the fibre +of him had become tough and knotty; when the warp and the woof of him +had made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and unyielding; when the +face of his spirit had become iron and all his instincts and axioms +had crystallised into set rules, cautions, dislikes, and desires. + +Yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance +that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard and +remoulding it into fairer form. Weedon Scott was in truth this +thumb. He had gone to the roots of White Fang’s nature, +and with kindness touched to life potencies that had languished and +well-nigh perished. One such potency was _love_. It +took the place of _like_, which latter had been the highest feeling +that thrilled him in his intercourse with the gods. + +But this love did not come in a day. It began with _like_ +and out of it slowly developed. White Fang did not run away, though +he was allowed to remain loose, because he liked this new god. +This was certainly better than the life he had lived in the cage of +Beauty Smith, and it was necessary that he should have some god. +The lordship of man was a need of his nature. The seal of his +dependence on man had been set upon him in that early day when he turned +his back on the Wild and crawled to Grey Beaver’s feet to receive +the expected beating. This seal had been stamped upon him again, +and ineradicably, on his second return from the Wild, when the long +famine was over and there was fish once more in the village of Grey +Beaver. + +And so, because he needed a god and because he preferred Weedon Scott +to Beauty Smith, White Fang remained. In acknowledgment of fealty, +he proceeded to take upon himself the guardianship of his master’s +property. He prowled about the cabin while the sled-dogs slept, +and the first night-visitor to the cabin fought him off with a club +until Weedon Scott came to the rescue. But White Fang soon learned +to differentiate between thieves and honest men, to appraise the true +value of step and carriage. The man who travelled, loud-stepping, +the direct line to the cabin door, he let alone—though he watched +him vigilantly until the door opened and he received the endorsement +of the master. But the man who went softly, by circuitous ways, +peering with caution, seeking after secrecy—that was the man who +received no suspension of judgment from White Fang, and who went away +abruptly, hurriedly, and without dignity. + +Weedon Scott had set himself the task of redeeming White Fang—or +rather, of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done White Fang. +It was a matter of principle and conscience. He felt that the +ill done White Fang was a debt incurred by man and that it must be paid. +So he went out of his way to be especially kind to the Fighting Wolf. +Each day he made it a point to caress and pet White Fang, and to do +it at length. + +At first suspicious and hostile, White Fang grew to like this petting. +But there was one thing that he never outgrew—his growling. +Growl he would, from the moment the petting began till it ended. +But it was a growl with a new note in it. A stranger could not +hear this note, and to such a stranger the growling of White Fang was +an exhibition of primordial savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curdling. +But White Fang’s throat had become harsh-fibred from the making +of ferocious sounds through the many years since his first little rasp +of anger in the lair of his cubhood, and he could not soften the sounds +of that throat now to express the gentleness he felt. Nevertheless, +Weedon Scott’s ear and sympathy were fine enough to catch the +new note all but drowned in the fierceness—the note that was the +faintest hint of a croon of content and that none but he could hear. + +As the days went by, the evolution of _like_ into _love_ +was accelerated. White Fang himself began to grow aware of it, +though in his consciousness he knew not what love was. It manifested +itself to him as a void in his being—a hungry, aching, yearning +void that clamoured to be filled. It was a pain and an unrest; +and it received easement only by the touch of the new god’s presence. +At such times love was joy to him, a wild, keen-thrilling satisfaction. +But when away from his god, the pain and the unrest returned; the void +in him sprang up and pressed against him with its emptiness, and the +hunger gnawed and gnawed unceasingly. + +White Fang was in the process of finding himself. In spite +of the maturity of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould +that had formed him, his nature was undergoing an expansion. There +was a burgeoning within him of strange feelings and unwonted impulses. +His old code of conduct was changing. In the past he had liked +comfort and surcease from pain, disliked discomfort and pain, and he +had adjusted his actions accordingly. But now it was different. +Because of this new feeling within him, he ofttimes elected discomfort +and pain for the sake of his god. Thus, in the early morning, +instead of roaming and foraging, or lying in a sheltered nook, he would +wait for hours on the cheerless cabin-stoop for a sight of the god’s +face. At night, when the god returned home, White Fang would leave +the warm sleeping-place he had burrowed in the snow in order to receive +the friendly snap of fingers and the word of greeting. Meat, even +meat itself, he would forego to be with his god, to receive a caress +from him or to accompany him down into the town. + +_Like_ had been replaced by _love_. And love was +the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never +gone. And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. +That which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, +a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang’s +nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun. + +But White Fang was not demonstrative. He was too old, too firmly +moulded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. He +was too self-possessed, too strongly poised in his own isolation. +Too long had he cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. +He had never barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark +a welcome when his god approached. He was never in the way, never +extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love. He never +ran to meet his god. He waited at a distance; but he always waited, +was always there. His love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, +inarticulate, a silent adoration. Only by the steady regard of +his eyes did he express his love, and by the unceasing following with +his eyes of his god’s every movement. Also, at times, when +his god looked at him and spoke to him, he betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, +caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical +inability to express it. + +He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. +It was borne in upon him that he must let his master’s dogs alone. +Yet his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash +them into an acknowledgment of his superiority and leadership. +This accomplished, he had little trouble with them. They gave +trail to him when he came and went or walked among them, and when he +asserted his will they obeyed. + +In the same way, he came to tolerate Matt—as a possession of +his master. His master rarely fed him. Matt did that, it +was his business; yet White Fang divined that it was his master’s +food he ate and that it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. +Matt it was who tried to put him into the harness and make him haul +sled with the other dogs. But Matt failed. It was not until +Weedon Scott put the harness on White Fang and worked him, that he understood. +He took it as his master’s will that Matt should drive him and +work him just as he drove and worked his master’s other dogs. + +Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with +runners under them. And different was the method of driving the +dogs. There was no fan-formation of the team. The dogs worked +in single file, one behind another, hauling on double traces. +And here, in the Klondike, the leader was indeed the leader. The +wisest as well as strongest dog was the leader, and the team obeyed +him and feared him. That White Fang should quickly gain this post +was inevitable. He could not be satisfied with less, as Matt learned +after much inconvenience and trouble. White Fang picked out the +post for himself, and Matt backed his judgment with strong language +after the experiment had been tried. But, though he worked in +the sled in the day, White Fang did not forego the guarding of his master’s +property in the night. Thus he was on duty all the time, ever +vigilant and faithful, the most valuable of all the dogs. + +“Makin’ free to spit out what’s in me,” Matt +said one day, “I beg to state that you was a wise guy all right +when you paid the price you did for that dog. You clean swindled +Beauty Smith on top of pushin’ his face in with your fist.” + +A recrudescence of anger glinted in Weedon Scott’s grey eyes, +and he muttered savagely, “The beast!” + +In the late spring a great trouble came to White Fang. Without +warning, the love-master disappeared. There had been warning, +but White Fang was unversed in such things and did not understand the +packing of a grip. He remembered afterwards that his packing had +preceded the master’s disappearance; but at the time he suspected +nothing. That night he waited for the master to return. +At midnight the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear +of the cabin. There he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed +for the first sound of the familiar step. But, at two in the morning, +his anxiety drove him out to the cold front stoop, where he crouched, +and waited. + +But no master came. In the morning the door opened and Matt +stepped outside. White Fang gazed at him wistfully. There +was no common speech by which he might learn what he wanted to know. +The days came and went, but never the master. White Fang, who +had never known sickness in his life, became sick. He became very +sick, so sick that Matt was finally compelled to bring him inside the +cabin. Also, in writing to his employer, Matt devoted a postscript +to White Fang. + +Weedon Scott reading the letter down in Circle City, came upon the +following: + +“That dam wolf won’t work. Won’t eat. +Aint got no spunk left. All the dogs is licking him. Wants +to know what has become of you, and I don’t know how to tell him. +Mebbe he is going to die.” + +It was as Matt had said. White Fang had ceased eating, lost +heart, and allowed every dog of the team to thrash him. In the +cabin he lay on the floor near the stove, without interest in food, +in Matt, nor in life. Matt might talk gently to him or swear at +him, it was all the same; he never did more than turn his dull eyes +upon the man, then drop his head back to its customary position on his +fore-paws. + +And then, one night, Matt, reading to himself with moving lips and +mumbled sounds, was startled by a low whine from White Fang. He +had got upon his feet, his ears cocked towards the door, and he was +listening intently. A moment later, Matt heard a footstep. +The door opened, and Weedon Scott stepped in. The two men shook +hands. Then Scott looked around the room. + +“Where’s the wolf?” he asked. + +Then he discovered him, standing where he had been lying, near to +the stove. He had not rushed forward after the manner of other +dogs. He stood, watching and waiting. + +“Holy smoke!” Matt exclaimed. “Look at ’m +wag his tail!” + +Weedon Scott strode half across the room toward him, at the same +time calling him. White Fang came to him, not with a great bound, +yet quickly. He was awakened from self-consciousness, but as he +drew near, his eyes took on a strange expression. Something, an +incommunicable vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as a light +and shone forth. + +“He never looked at me that way all the time you was gone!” +Matt commented. + +Weedon Scott did not hear. He was squatting down on his heels, +face to face with White Fang and petting him—rubbing at the roots +of the ears, making long caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders, +tapping the spine gently with the balls of his fingers. And White +Fang was growling responsively, the crooning note of the growl more +pronounced than ever. + +But that was not all. What of his joy, the great love in him, +ever surging and struggling to express itself, succeeded in finding +a new mode of expression. He suddenly thrust his head forward +and nudged his way in between the master’s arm and body. +And here, confined, hidden from view all except his ears, no longer +growling, he continued to nudge and snuggle. + +The two men looked at each other. Scott’s eyes were shining. + +“Gosh!” said Matt in an awe-stricken voice. + +A moment later, when he had recovered himself, he said, “I +always insisted that wolf was a dog. Look at ’m!” + +With the return of the love-master, White Fang’s recovery was +rapid. Two nights and a day he spent in the cabin. Then +he sallied forth. The sled-dogs had forgotten his prowess. +They remembered only the latest, which was his weakness and sickness. +At the sight of him as he came out of the cabin, they sprang upon him. + +“Talk about your rough-houses,” Matt murmured gleefully, +standing in the doorway and looking on. + +“Give ’m hell, you wolf! Give ’m hell!—an’ +then some!” + +White Fang did not need the encouragement. The return of the +love-master was enough. Life was flowing through him again, splendid +and indomitable. He fought from sheer joy, finding in it an expression +of much that he felt and that otherwise was without speech. There +could be but one ending. The team dispersed in ignominious defeat, +and it was not until after dark that the dogs came sneaking back, one +by one, by meekness and humility signifying their fealty to White Fang. + +Having learned to snuggle, White Fang was guilty of it often. +It was the final word. He could not go beyond it. The one +thing of which he had always been particularly jealous was his head. +He had always disliked to have it touched. It was the Wild in +him, the fear of hurt and of the trap, that had given rise to the panicky +impulses to avoid contacts. It was the mandate of his instinct +that that head must be free. And now, with the love-master, his +snuggling was the deliberate act of putting himself into a position +of hopeless helplessness. It was an expression of perfect confidence, +of absolute self-surrender, as though he said: “I put myself into +thy hands. Work thou thy will with me.” + +One night, not long after the return, Scott and Matt sat at a game +of cribbage preliminary to going to bed. “Fifteen-two, fifteen-four +an’ a pair makes six,” Mat was pegging up, when there was +an outcry and sound of snarling without. They looked at each other +as they started to rise to their feet. + +“The wolf’s nailed somebody,” Matt said. + +A wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them. + +“Bring a light!” Scott shouted, as he sprang outside. + +Matt followed with the lamp, and by its light they saw a man lying +on his back in the snow. His arms were folded, one above the other, +across his face and throat. Thus he was trying to shield himself +from White Fang’s teeth. And there was need for it. +White Fang was in a rage, wickedly making his attack on the most vulnerable +spot. From shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms, the coat-sleeve, +blue flannel shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags, while the arms +themselves were terribly slashed and streaming blood. + +All this the two men saw in the first instant. The next instant +Weedon Scott had White Fang by the throat and was dragging him clear. +White Fang struggled and snarled, but made no attempt to bite, while +he quickly quieted down at a sharp word from the master. + +Matt helped the man to his feet. As he arose he lowered his +crossed arms, exposing the bestial face of Beauty Smith. The dog-musher +let go of him precipitately, with action similar to that of a man who +has picked up live fire. Beauty Smith blinked in the lamplight +and looked about him. He caught sight of White Fang and terror +rushed into his face. + +At the same moment Matt noticed two objects lying in the snow. +He held the lamp close to them, indicating them with his toe for his +employer’s benefit—a steel dog-chain and a stout club. + +Weedon Scott saw and nodded. Not a word was spoken. The +dog-musher laid his hand on Beauty Smith’s shoulder and faced +him to the right about. No word needed to be spoken. Beauty +Smith started. + +In the meantime the love-master was patting White Fang and talking +to him. + +“Tried to steal you, eh? And you wouldn’t have +it! Well, well, he made a mistake, didn’t he?” + +“Must ‘a’ thought he had hold of seventeen devils,” +the dog-musher sniggered. + +White Fang, still wrought up and bristling, growled and growled, +the hair slowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, but growing +in his throat. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35105dc --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.html @@ -0,0 +1,1547 @@ + + + + + Part V + + + + +
+

+
+

The Long Trail

+

+ It was in the air. White Fang sensed the coming calamity, even before + there was tangible evidence of it. In vague ways it was borne in upon + him that a change was impending. He knew not how nor why, yet he got + his feel of the oncoming event from the gods themselves. In ways + subtler than they knew, they betrayed their intentions to the wolf-dog + that haunted the cabin-stoop, and that, though he never came inside + the cabin, knew what went on inside their brains. +

+

+ “Listen to that, will you!” the dug-musher exclaimed at supper one + night. +

+

+ Weedon Scott listened. Through the door came a low, anxious whine, + like a sobbing under the breath that had just grown audible. Then came + the long sniff, as White Fang reassured himself that his god was still + inside and had not yet taken himself off in mysterious and solitary + flight. +

+

+ “I do believe that wolf’s on to you,” the dog-musher said. +

+

+ Weedon Scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost + pleaded, though this was given the lie by his words. +

+

+ “What the devil can I do with a wolf in California?” he demanded. +

+

+ “That’s what I say,” Matt answered. “What the devil can you do with a + wolf in California?” +

+

+ But this did not satisfy Weedon Scott. The other seemed to be judging + him in a non-committal sort of way. +

+

+ “White man’s dogs would have no show against him,” Scott went on. + “He’d kill them on sight. If he didn’t bankrupt me with damaged suits, + the authorities would take him away from me and electrocute him.” +

+

+ “He’s a downright murderer, I know,” was the dog-musher’s comment. +

+

Weedon Scott looked at him suspiciously.

+

“It would never do,” he said decisively.

+

+ “It would never do!” Matt concurred. “Why you’d have to hire a man + ’specially to take care of ’m.” +

+

+ The other suspicion was allayed. He nodded cheerfully. In the silence + that followed, the low, half-sobbing whine was heard at the door and + then the long, questing sniff. +

+

+ “There’s no denyin’ he thinks a hell of a lot of you,” Matt said. +

+

+ The other glared at him in sudden wrath. “Damn it all, man! I know my + own mind and what’s best!” +

+

“I’m agreein’ with you, only . . . ”

+

“Only what?” Scott snapped out.

+

+ “Only . . . ” the dog-musher began softly, then changed his mind and + betrayed a rising anger of his own. “Well, you needn’t get so + all-fired het up about it. Judgin’ by your actions one’d think you + didn’t know your own mind.” +

+

+ Weedon Scott debated with himself for a while, and then said more + gently: “You are right, Matt. I don’t know my own mind, and that’s + what’s the trouble.” +

+

+ “Why, it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog along,” + he broke out after another pause. +

+

+ “I’m agreein’ with you,” was Matt’s answer, and again his employer was + not quite satisfied with him. +

+

+ “But how in the name of the great Sardanapolis he knows you’re goin’ + is what gets me,” the dog-musher continued innocently. +

+

+ “It’s beyond me, Matt,” Scott answered, with a mournful shake of the + head. +

+

+ Then came the day when, through the open cabin door, White Fang saw + the fatal grip on the floor and the love-master packing things into + it. Also, there were comings and goings, and the erstwhile placid + atmosphere of the cabin was vexed with strange perturbations and + unrest. Here was indubitable evidence. White Fang had already scented + it. He now reasoned it. His god was preparing for another flight. And + since he had not taken him with him before, so, now, he could look to + be left behind. +

+

+ That night he lifted the long wolf-howl. As he had howled, in his + puppy days, when he fled back from the Wild to the village to find it + vanished and naught but a rubbish-heap to mark the site of Grey + Beaver’s tepee, so now he pointed his muzzle to the cold stars and + told to them his woe. +

+

Inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed.

+

+ “He’s gone off his food again,” Matt remarked from his bunk. +

+

+ There was a grunt from Weedon Scott’s bunk, and a stir of blankets. +

+

+ “From the way he cut up the other time you went away, I wouldn’t + wonder this time but what he died.” +

+

The blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably.

+

+ “Oh, shut up!” Scott cried out through the darkness. “You nag worse + than a woman.” +

+

+ “I’m agreein’ with you,” the dog-musher answered, and Weedon Scott was + not quite sure whether or not the other had snickered. +

+

+ The next day White Fang’s anxiety and restlessness were even more + pronounced. He dogged his master’s heels whenever he left the cabin, + and haunted the front stoop when he remained inside. Through the open + door he could catch glimpses of the luggage on the floor. The grip had + been joined by two large canvas bags and a box. Matt was rolling the + master’s blankets and fur robe inside a small tarpaulin. White Fang + whined as he watched the operation. +

+

+ Later on two Indians arrived. He watched them closely as they + shouldered the luggage and were led off down the hill by Matt, who + carried the bedding and the grip. But White Fang did not follow them. + The master was still in the cabin. After a time, Matt returned. The + master came to the door and called White Fang inside. +

+

+ “You poor devil,” he said gently, rubbing White Fang’s ears and + tapping his spine. “I’m hitting the long trail, old man, where you + cannot follow. Now give me a growl—the last, good, good-bye growl.” +

+

+ But White Fang refused to growl. Instead, and after a wistful, + searching look, he snuggled in, burrowing his head out of sight + between the master’s arm and body. +

+

+ “There she blows!” Matt cried. From the Yukon arose the hoarse + bellowing of a river steamboat. “You’ve got to cut it short. Be sure + and lock the front door. I’ll go out the back. Get a move on!” +

+

+ The two doors slammed at the same moment, and Weedon Scott waited for + Matt to come around to the front. From inside the door came a low + whining and sobbing. Then there were long, deep-drawn sniffs. +

+

+ “You must take good care of him, Matt,” Scott said, as they started + down the hill. “Write and let me know how he gets along.” +

+

+ “Sure,” the dog-musher answered. “But listen to that, will you!” +

+

+ Both men stopped. White Fang was howling as dogs howl when their + masters lie dead. He was voicing an utter woe, his cry bursting upward + in great heart-breaking rushes, dying down into quavering misery, and + bursting upward again with a rush upon rush of grief. +

+

+ The Aurora was the first steamboat of the year for the + Outside, and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and + broken gold seekers, all equally as mad to get to the Outside as they + had been originally to get to the Inside. Near the gang-plank, Scott + was shaking hands with Matt, who was preparing to go ashore. But + Matt’s hand went limp in the other’s grasp as his gaze shot past and + remained fixed on something behind him. Scott turned to see. Sitting + on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was White Fang. +

+

+ The dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents. Scott could only + look in wonder. +

+

+ “Did you lock the front door?” Matt demanded. The other nodded, and + asked, “How about the back?” +

+

“You just bet I did,” was the fervent reply.

+

+ White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where he + was, making no attempt to approach. +

+

“I’ll have to take ’m ashore with me.”

+

+ Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang, but the latter slid + away from him. The dog-musher made a rush of it, and White Fang dodged + between the legs of a group of men. Ducking, turning, doubling, he + slid about the deck, eluding the other’s efforts to capture him. +

+

+ But when the love-master spoke, White Fang came to him with prompt + obedience. +

+

+ “Won’t come to the hand that’s fed ’m all these months,” the + dog-musher muttered resentfully. “And you—you ain’t never fed ’m after + them first days of gettin’ acquainted. I’m blamed if I can see how he + works it out that you’re the boss.” +

+

+ Scott, who had been patting White Fang, suddenly bent closer and + pointed out fresh-made cuts on his muzzle, and a gash between the + eyes. +

+

Matt bent over and passed his hand along White Fang’s belly.

+

+ “We plump forgot the window. He’s all cut an’ gouged underneath. Must + ‘a’ butted clean through it, b’gosh!” +

+

+ But Weedon Scott was not listening. He was thinking rapidly. The + Aurora’s whistle hooted a final announcement of departure. + Men were scurrying down the gang-plank to the shore. Matt loosened the + bandana from his own neck and started to put it around White Fang’s. + Scott grasped the dog-musher’s hand. +

+

+ “Good-bye, Matt, old man. About the wolf—you needn’t write. You see, + I’ve . . . !” +

+

+ “What!” the dog-musher exploded. “You don’t mean to say . . .?” +

+

+ “The very thing I mean. Here’s your bandana. I’ll write to you about + him.” +

+

Matt paused halfway down the gang-plank.

+

+ “He’ll never stand the climate!” he shouted back. “Unless you clip ’m + in warm weather!” +

+

+ The gang-plank was hauled in, and the Aurora swung out from + the bank. Weedon Scott waved a last good-bye. Then he turned and bent + over White Fang, standing by his side. +

+

+ “Now growl, damn you, growl,” he said, as he patted the responsive + head and rubbed the flattening ears. +

+
+
+

The Southland

+

+ White Fang landed from the steamer in San Francisco. He was appalled. + Deep in him, below any reasoning process or act of consciousness, he + had associated power with godhead. And never had the white men seemed + such marvellous gods as now, when he trod the slimy pavement of San + Francisco. The log cabins he had known were replaced by towering + buildings. The streets were crowded with perils—waggons, carts, + automobiles; great, straining horses pulling huge trucks; and + monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and clanging through the + midst, screeching their insistent menace after the manner of the + lynxes he had known in the northern woods. +

+

+ All this was the manifestation of power. Through it all, behind it + all, was man, governing and controlling, expressing himself, as of + old, by his mastery over matter. It was colossal, stunning. White Fang + was awed. Fear sat upon him. As in his cubhood he had been made to + feel his smallness and puniness on the day he first came in from the + Wild to the village of Grey Beaver, so now, in his full-grown stature + and pride of strength, he was made to feel small and puny. And there + were so many gods! He was made dizzy by the swarming of them. The + thunder of the streets smote upon his ears. He was bewildered by the + tremendous and endless rush and movement of things. As never before, + he felt his dependence on the love-master, close at whose heels he + followed, no matter what happened never losing sight of him. +

+

+ But White Fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the + city—an experience that was like a bad dream, unreal and terrible, + that haunted him for long after in his dreams. He was put into a + baggage-car by the master, chained in a corner in the midst of heaped + trunks and valises. Here a squat and brawny god held sway, with much + noise, hurling trunks and boxes about, dragging them in through the + door and tossing them into the piles, or flinging them out of the + door, smashing and crashing, to other gods who awaited them. +

+

+ And here, in this inferno of luggage, was White Fang deserted by the + master. Or at least White Fang thought he was deserted, until he + smelled out the master’s canvas clothes-bags alongside of him, and + proceeded to mount guard over them. +

+

+ “’Bout time you come,” growled the god of the car, an hour later, when + Weedon Scott appeared at the door. “That dog of yourn won’t let me lay + a finger on your stuff.” +

+

+ White Fang emerged from the car. He was astonished. The nightmare city + was gone. The car had been to him no more than a room in a house, and + when he had entered it the city had been all around him. In the + interval the city had disappeared. The roar of it no longer dinned + upon his ears. Before him was smiling country, streaming with + sunshine, lazy with quietude. But he had little time to marvel at the + transformation. He accepted it as he accepted all the unaccountable + doings and manifestations of the gods. It was their way. +

+

+ There was a carriage waiting. A man and a woman approached the master. + The woman’s arms went out and clutched the master around the neck—a + hostile act! The next moment Weedon Scott had torn loose from the + embrace and closed with White Fang, who had become a snarling, raging + demon. +

+

+ “It’s all right, mother,” Scott was saying as he kept tight hold of + White Fang and placated him. “He thought you were going to injure me, + and he wouldn’t stand for it. It’s all right. It’s all right. He’ll + learn soon enough.” +

+

+ “And in the meantime I may be permitted to love my son when his dog is + not around,” she laughed, though she was pale and weak from the + fright. +

+

+ She looked at White Fang, who snarled and bristled and glared + malevolently. +

+

+ “He’ll have to learn, and he shall, without postponement,” Scott said. +

+

+ He spoke softly to White Fang until he had quieted him, then his voice + became firm. +

+

“Down, sir! Down with you!”

+

+ This had been one of the things taught him by the master, and White + Fang obeyed, though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly. +

+

“Now, mother.”

+

Scott opened his arms to her, but kept his eyes on White Fang.

+

“Down!” he warned. “Down!”

+

+ White Fang, bristling silently, half-crouching as he rose, sank back + and watched the hostile act repeated. But no harm came of it, nor of + the embrace from the strange man-god that followed. Then the + clothes-bags were taken into the carriage, the strange gods and the + love-master followed, and White Fang pursued, now running vigilantly + behind, now bristling up to the running horses and warning them that + he was there to see that no harm befell the god they dragged so + swiftly across the earth. +

+

+ At the end of fifteen minutes, the carriage swung in through a stone + gateway and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut + trees. On either side stretched lawns, their broad sweep broken here + and there by great sturdy-limbed oaks. In the near distance, in + contrast with the young-green of the tended grass, sunburnt hay-fields + showed tan and gold; while beyond were the tawny hills and upland + pastures. From the head of the lawn, on the first soft swell from the + valley-level, looked down the deep-porched, many-windowed house. +

+

+ Little opportunity was given White Fang to see all this. Hardly had + the carriage entered the grounds, when he was set upon by a sheep-dog, + bright-eyed, sharp-muzzled, righteously indignant and angry. It was + between him and the master, cutting him off. White Fang snarled no + warning, but his hair bristled as he made his silent and deadly rush. + This rush was never completed. He halted with awkward abruptness, with + stiff fore-legs bracing himself against his momentum, almost sitting + down on his haunches, so desirous was he of avoiding contact with the + dog he was in the act of attacking. It was a female, and the law of + his kind thrust a barrier between. For him to attack her would require + nothing less than a violation of his instinct. +

+

+ But with the sheep-dog it was otherwise. Being a female, she possessed + no such instinct. On the other hand, being a sheep-dog, her + instinctive fear of the Wild, and especially of the wolf, was + unusually keen. White Fang was to her a wolf, the hereditary marauder + who had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep were first herded + and guarded by some dim ancestor of hers. And so, as he abandoned his + rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact, she sprang upon + him. He snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth in his shoulder, + but beyond this made no offer to hurt her. He backed away, + stiff-legged with self-consciousness, and tried to go around her. He + dodged this way and that, and curved and turned, but to no purpose. + She remained always between him and the way he wanted to go. +

+

“Here, Collie!” called the strange man in the carriage.

+

Weedon Scott laughed.

+

+ “Never mind, father. It is good discipline. White Fang will have to + learn many things, and it’s just as well that he begins now. He’ll + adjust himself all right.” +

+

+ The carriage drove on, and still Collie blocked White Fang’s way. He + tried to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling across the lawn + but she ran on the inner and smaller circle, and was always there, + facing him with her two rows of gleaming teeth. Back he circled, + across the drive to the other lawn, and again she headed him off. +

+

+ The carriage was bearing the master away. White Fang caught glimpses + of it disappearing amongst the trees. The situation was desperate. He + essayed another circle. She followed, running swiftly. And then, + suddenly, he turned upon her. It was his old fighting trick. Shoulder + to shoulder, he struck her squarely. Not only was she overthrown. So + fast had she been running that she rolled along, now on her back, now + on her side, as she struggled to stop, clawing gravel with her feet + and crying shrilly her hurt pride and indignation. +

+

+ White Fang did not wait. The way was clear, and that was all he had + wanted. She took after him, never ceasing her outcry. It was the + straightaway now, and when it came to real running, White Fang could + teach her things. She ran frantically, hysterically, straining to the + utmost, advertising the effort she was making with every leap: and all + the time White Fang slid smoothly away from her silently, without + effort, gliding like a ghost over the ground. +

+

+ As he rounded the house to the porte-cochère, he came upon + the carriage. It had stopped, and the master was alighting. At this + moment, still running at top speed, White Fang became suddenly aware + of an attack from the side. It was a deer-hound rushing upon him. + White Fang tried to face it. But he was going too fast, and the hound + was too close. It struck him on the side; and such was his forward + momentum and the unexpectedness of it, White Fang was hurled to the + ground and rolled clear over. He came out of the tangle a spectacle of + malignancy, ears flattened back, lips writhing, nose wrinkling, his + teeth clipping together as the fangs barely missed the hound’s soft + throat. +

+

+ The master was running up, but was too far away; and it was Collie + that saved the hound’s life. Before White Fang could spring in and + deliver the fatal stroke, and just as he was in the act of springing + in, Collie arrived. She had been out-manoeuvred and out-run, to say + nothing of her having been unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel, and + her arrival was like that of a tornado—made up of offended dignity, + justifiable wrath, and instinctive hatred for this marauder from the + Wild. She struck White Fang at right angles in the midst of his + spring, and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over. +

+

+ The next moment the master arrived, and with one hand held White Fang, + while the father called off the dogs. +

+

+ “I say, this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf from the + Arctic,” the master said, while White Fang calmed down under his + caressing hand. “In all his life he’s only been known once to go off + his feet, and here he’s been rolled twice in thirty seconds.” +

+

+ The carriage had driven away, and other strange gods had appeared from + out the house. Some of these stood respectfully at a distance; but two + of them, women, perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the master + around the neck. White Fang, however, was beginning to tolerate this + act. No harm seemed to come of it, while the noises the gods made were + certainly not threatening. These gods also made overtures to White + Fang, but he warned them off with a snarl, and the master did likewise + with word of mouth. At such times White Fang leaned in close against + the master’s legs and received reassuring pats on the head. +

+

+ The hound, under the command, “Dick! Lie down, sir!” had gone up the + steps and lain down to one side of the porch, still growling and + keeping a sullen watch on the intruder. Collie had been taken in + charge by one of the woman-gods, who held arms around her neck and + petted and caressed her; but Collie was very much perplexed and + worried, whining and restless, outraged by the permitted presence of + this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake. +

+

+ All the gods started up the steps to enter the house. White Fang + followed closely at the master’s heels. Dick, on the porch, growled, + and White Fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back. +

+

+ “Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out,” + suggested Scott’s father. “After that they’ll be friends.” +

+

+ “Then White Fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief + mourner at the funeral,” laughed the master. +

+

+ The elder Scott looked incredulously, first at White Fang, then at + Dick, and finally at his son. +

+

“You mean . . .?”

+

+ Weedon nodded his head. “I mean just that. You’d have a dead Dick + inside one minute—two minutes at the farthest.” +

+

+ He turned to White Fang. “Come on, you wolf. It’s you that’ll have to + come inside.” +

+

+ White Fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and across the porch, with + tail rigidly erect, keeping his eyes on Dick to guard against a flank + attack, and at the same time prepared for whatever fierce + manifestation of the unknown that might pounce out upon him from the + interior of the house. But no thing of fear pounced out, and when he + had gained the inside he scouted carefully around, looking at it and + finding it not. Then he lay down with a contented grunt at the + master’s feet, observing all that went on, ever ready to spring to his + feet and fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under the + trap-roof of the dwelling. +

+
+
+

The God’s Domain

+

+ Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled + much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in + Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White Fang + quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further serious + trouble with the dogs. They knew more about the ways of the Southland + gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified when he + accompanied the gods inside the house. Wolf that he was, and + unprecedented as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and + they, the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction. +

+

+ Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, + after which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the + premises. Had Dick had his way, they would have been good friends. All + but White Fang was averse to friendship. All he asked of other dogs + was to be let alone. His whole life he had kept aloof from his kind, + and he still desired to keep aloof. Dick’s overtures bothered him, so + he snarled Dick away. In the north he had learned the lesson that he + must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did not forget that lesson + now. But he insisted on his own privacy and self-seclusion, and so + thoroughly ignored Dick that that good-natured creature finally gave + him up and scarcely took as much interest in him as in the + hitching-post near the stable. +

+

+ Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the mandate + of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in peace. + Woven into her being was the memory of countless crimes he and his had + perpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day nor a generation were + the ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. All this was a spur to her, + pricking her to retaliation. She could not fly in the face of the gods + who permitted him, but that did not prevent her from making life + miserable for him in petty ways. A feud, ages old, was between them, + and she, for one, would see to it that he was reminded. +

+

+ So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and + maltreat him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while + her persistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed at + him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked + away stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he was + compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, his + head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient and + bored expression. Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters + hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. But as a rule + he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity. He ignored + her existence whenever it was possible, and made it a point to keep + out of her way. When he saw or heard her coming, he got up and walked + off. +

+

+ There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life in the + Northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated + affairs of Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family of + the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah and + Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, + and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the love-master + all the denizens of the house. +

+

+ But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. + Sierra Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. + There were many persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, and + there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, Beth and + Mary. There was his wife, Alice, and then there were his children, + Weedon and Maud, toddlers of four and six. There was no way for + anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties and + relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable of + knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged to the + master. Then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, by study + of action, speech, and the very intonations of the voice, he slowly + learned the intimacy and the degree of favour they enjoyed with the + master. And by this ascertained standard, White Fang treated them + accordingly. What was of value to the master he valued; what was dear + to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and guarded carefully. +

+

+ Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked + children. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were not tender + that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days of the + Indian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached him, he + growled warningly and looked malignant. A cuff from the master and a + sharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses, though he + growled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl there was + no crooning note. Later, he observed that the boy and girl were of + great value in the master’s eyes. Then it was that no cuff nor sharp + word was necessary before they could pat him. +

+

+ Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate. He yielded to the + master’s children with an ill but honest grace, and endured their + fooling as one would endure a painful operation. When he could no + longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly away from them. + But after a time, he grew even to like the children. Still he was not + demonstrative. He would not go up to them. On the other hand, instead + of walking away at sight of them, he waited for them to come to him. + And still later, it was noticed that a pleased light came into his + eyes when he saw them approaching, and that he looked after them with + an appearance of curious regret when they left him for other + amusements. +

+

+ All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in his + regard, after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two reasons, + possibly, for this. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of + the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to + lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the newspaper, from + time to time favouring White Fang with a look or a word—untroublesome + tokens that he recognised White Fang’s presence and existence. But + this was only when the master was not around. When the master + appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as White Fang was + concerned. +

+

+ White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make + much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. No + caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try as + they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling against them. + This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he + reserved for the master alone. In fact, he never regarded the members + of the family in any other light than possessions of the love-master. +

+

+ Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family and + the servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, while he + merely refrained from attacking them. This because he considered that + they were likewise possessions of the master. Between White Fang and + them existed a neutrality and no more. They cooked for the master and + washed the dishes and did other things just as Matt had done up in the + Klondike. They were, in short, appurtenances of the household. +

+

+ Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. The + master’s domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes and bounds. + The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside was the common + domain of all gods—the roads and streets. Then inside other fences + were the particular domains of other gods. A myriad laws governed all + these things and determined conduct; yet he did not know the speech of + the gods, nor was there any way for him to learn save by experience. + He obeyed his natural impulses until they ran him counter to some law. + When this had been done a few times, he learned the law and after that + observed it. +

+

+ But most potent in his education was the cuff of the master’s hand, + the censure of the master’s voice. Because of White Fang’s very great + love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any beating Grey + Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. They had hurt only the + flesh of him; beneath the flesh the spirit had still raged, splendid + and invincible. But with the master the cuff was always too light to + hurt the flesh. Yet it went deeper. It was an expression of the + master’s disapproval, and White Fang’s spirit wilted under it. +

+

+ In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master’s voice + was sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right or not. By + it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. It was the compass + by which he steered and learned to chart the manners of a new land and + life. +

+

+ In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. All other + animals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, lawful + spoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged among the live + things for food. It did not enter his head that in the Southland it + was otherwise. But this he was to learn early in his residence in + Santa Clara Valley. Sauntering around the corner of the house in the + early morning, he came upon a chicken that had escaped from the + chicken-yard. White Fang’s natural impulse was to eat it. A couple of + bounds, a flash of teeth and a frightened squawk, and he had scooped + in the adventurous fowl. It was farm-bred and fat and tender; and + White Fang licked his chops and decided that such fare was good. +

+

+ Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the + stables. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. He did not know White + Fang’s breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. At the first + cut of the whip, White Fang left the chicken for the man. A club might + have stopped White Fang, but not a whip. Silently, without flinching, + he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as he leaped for the + throat the groom cried out, “My God!” and staggered backward. He + dropped the whip and shielded his throat with his arms. In + consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone. +

+

+ The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang’s ferocity + as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still protecting his + throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried to retreat to + the barn. And it would have gone hard with him had not Collie appeared + on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s life, she now saved the groom’s. + She rushed upon White Fang in frenzied wrath. She had been right. She + had known better than the blundering gods. All her suspicions were + justified. Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again. +

+

+ The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away before + Collie’s wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled + round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont, after + a decent interval of chastisement. On the contrary, she grew more + excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, White Fang flung + dignity to the winds and frankly fled away from her across the fields. +

+

+ “He’ll learn to leave chickens alone,” the master said. “But I can’t + give him the lesson until I catch him in the act.” +

+

+ Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than the + master had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely the + chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, after + they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly + hauled lumber. From there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, + passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. A moment + later he was inside the house, and the slaughter began. +

+

+ In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty white + Leghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. He + whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the + end, with admiration. His eyes were likewise greeted by White Fang, + but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. He + carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved a + deed praiseworthy and meritorious. There was about him no + consciousness of sin. The master’s lips tightened as he faced the + disagreeable task. Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, + and in his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. Also, he held + White Fang’s nose down to the slain hens, and at the same time cuffed + him soundly. +

+

+ White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the law, + and he had learned it. Then the master took him into the + chicken-yards. White Fang’s natural impulse, when he saw the live food + fluttering about him and under his very nose, was to spring upon it. + He obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the master’s voice. They + continued in the yards for half an hour. Time and again the impulse + surged over White Fang, and each time, as he yielded to it, he was + checked by the master’s voice. Thus it was he learned the law, and ere + he left the domain of the chickens, he had learned to ignore their + existence. +

+

+ “You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott shook his head + sadly at luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson he had given + White Fang. “Once they’ve got the habit and the taste of blood . . .” + Again he shook his head sadly. +

+

+ But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll tell you what + I’ll do,” he challenged finally. “I’ll lock White Fang in with the + chickens all afternoon.” +

+

“But think of the chickens,” objected the judge.

+

+ “And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every chicken he kills, I’ll + pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm.” +

+

“But you should penalise father, too,” interpose Beth.

+

+ Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around + the table. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement. +

+

+ “All right.” Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. “And if, at the end + of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t harmed a chicken, for every ten + minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say to + him, gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were sitting on the + bench and solemnly passing judgment, ‘White Fang, you are smarter than + I thought.’” +

+

+ From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. But + it was a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted by the master, + White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got up and walked over + to the trough for a drink of water. The chickens he calmly ignored. So + far as he was concerned they did not exist. At four o’clock he + executed a running jump, gained the roof of the chicken-house and + leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered gravely to the + house. He had learned the law. And on the porch, before the delighted + family, Judge Scott, face to face with White Fang, said slowly and + solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you are smarter than I thought.” +

+

+ But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and + often brought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must not + touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there were cats, + and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. In fact, when + he had but partly learned the law, his impression was that he must + leave all live things alone. Out in the back-pasture, a quail could + flutter up under his nose unharmed. All tense and trembling with + eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and stood still. He was + obeying the will of the gods. +

+

+ And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start a + jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and did not + interfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase. And + thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. In the end he + worked out the complete law. Between him and all domestic animals + there must be no hostilities. If not amity, at least neutrality must + obtain. But the other animals—the squirrels, and quail, and + cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who had never yielded + allegiance to man. They were the lawful prey of any dog. It was only + the tame that the gods protected, and between the tame deadly strife + was not permitted. The gods held the power of life and death over + their subjects, and the gods were jealous of their power. +

+

+ Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities of + the Northland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of + civilisation was control, restraint—a poise of self that was as + delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time as + rigid as steel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he + must meet them all—thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, running + behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage + stopped. Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually + impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless + adjustments and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to + suppress his natural impulses. +

+

+ There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This meat he + must not touch. There were cats at the houses the master visited that + must be let alone. And there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him + and that he must not attack. And then, on the crowded sidewalks there + were persons innumerable whose attention he attracted. They would stop + and look at him, point him out to one another, examine him, talk of + him, and, worst of all, pat him. And these perilous contacts from all + these strange hands he must endure. Yet this endurance he achieved. + Furthermore, he got over being awkward and self-conscious. In a lofty + way he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods. With + condescension he accepted their condescension. On the other hand, + there was something about him that prevented great familiarity. They + patted him on the head and passed on, contented and pleased with their + own daring. +

+

+ But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the carriage in + the outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small boys who made + a practice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew that it was not + permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here he was compelled to + violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate it he did, for + he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation. +

+

+ Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. + He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. But there is a + certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense in + him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defence + against the stone-throwers. He forgot that in the covenant entered + into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and + defend him. But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip in + hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. After that they threw + stones no more, and White Fang understood and was satisfied. +

+

+ One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way to town, + hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that + made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. Knowing his + deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing upon + White Fang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having learned + the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed the + cross-roads saloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl kept + the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping + and bickering and insulting him. This endured for some time. The men + at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang. One day + they openly sicked the dogs on him. The master stopped the carriage. +

+

“Go to it,” he said to White Fang.

+

+ But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, and he + looked at the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at + the master. +

+

+ The master nodded his head. “Go to them, old fellow. Eat them up.” +

+

+ White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently among + his enemies. All three faced him. There was a great snarling and + growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. The dust of the + road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. But at the end of + several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third was + in full flight. He leaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, and fled + across a field. White Fang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf + fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without noise, and in the + centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog. +

+

+ With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. The word + went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs did not + molest the Fighting Wolf. +

+
+
+

The Call of Kind

+

+ The months came and went. There was plenty of food and no work in the + Southland, and White Fang lived fat and prosperous and happy. Not + alone was he in the geographical Southland, for he was in the + Southland of life. Human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, and + he flourished like a flower planted in good soil. +

+

+ And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. He knew the law + even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, and he + observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about him a + suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in + him and the wolf in him merely slept. +

+

+ He never chummed with other dogs. Lonely he had lived, so far as his + kind was concerned, and lonely he would continue to live. In his + puppyhood, under the persecution of Lip-lip and the puppy-pack, and in + his fighting days with Beauty Smith, he had acquired a fixed aversion + for dogs. The natural course of his life had been diverted, and, + recoiling from his kind, he had clung to the human. +

+

+ Besides, all Southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion. He aroused + in them their instinctive fear of the Wild, and they greeted him + always with snarl and growl and belligerent hatred. He, on the other + hand, learned that it was not necessary to use his teeth upon them. + His naked fangs and writhing lips were uniformly efficacious, rarely + failing to send a bellowing on-rushing dog back on its haunches. +

+

+ But there was one trial in White Fang’s life—Collie. She never gave + him a moment’s peace. She was not so amenable to the law as he. She + defied all efforts of the master to make her become friends with White + Fang. Ever in his ears was sounding her sharp and nervous snarl. She + had never forgiven him the chicken-killing episode, and persistently + held to the belief that his intentions were bad. She found him guilty + before the act, and treated him accordingly. She became a pest to him, + like a policeman following him around the stable and the hounds, and, + if he even so much as glanced curiously at a pigeon or chicken, + bursting into an outcry of indignation and wrath. His favourite way of + ignoring her was to lie down, with his head on his fore-paws, and + pretend sleep. This always dumfounded and silenced her. +

+

+ With the exception of Collie, all things went well with White Fang. He + had learned control and poise, and he knew the law. He achieved a + staidness, and calmness, and philosophic tolerance. He no longer lived + in a hostile environment. Danger and hurt and death did not lurk + everywhere about him. In time, the unknown, as a thing of terror and + menace ever impending, faded away. Life was soft and easy. It flowed + along smoothly, and neither fear nor foe lurked by the way. +

+

+ He missed the snow without being aware of it. “An unduly long summer,” + would have been his thought had he thought about it; as it was, he + merely missed the snow in a vague, subconscious way. In the same + fashion, especially in the heat of summer when he suffered from the + sun, he experienced faint longings for the Northland. Their only + effect upon him, however, was to make him uneasy and restless without + his knowing what was the matter. +

+

+ White Fang had never been very demonstrative. Beyond his snuggling and + the throwing of a crooning note into his love-growl, he had no way of + expressing his love. Yet it was given him to discover a third way. He + had always been susceptible to the laughter of the gods. Laughter had + affected him with madness, made him frantic with rage. But he did not + have it in him to be angry with the love-master, and when that god + elected to laugh at him in a good-natured, bantering way, he was + nonplussed. He could feel the pricking and stinging of the old anger + as it strove to rise up in him, but it strove against love. He could + not be angry; yet he had to do something. At first he was dignified, + and the master laughed the harder. Then he tried to be more dignified, + and the master laughed harder than before. In the end, the master + laughed him out of his dignity. His jaws slightly parted, his lips + lifted a little, and a quizzical expression that was more love than + humour came into his eyes. He had learned to laugh. +

+

+ Likewise he learned to romp with the master, to be tumbled down and + rolled over, and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks. In return + he feigned anger, bristling and growling ferociously, and clipping his + teeth together in snaps that had all the seeming of deadly intention. + But he never forgot himself. Those snaps were always delivered on the + empty air. At the end of such a romp, when blow and cuff and snap and + snarl were last and furious, they would break off suddenly and stand + several feet apart, glaring at each other. And then, just as suddenly, + like the sun rising on a stormy sea, they would begin to laugh. This + would always culminate with the master’s arms going around White + Fang’s neck and shoulders while the latter crooned and growled his + love-song. +

+

+ But nobody else ever romped with White Fang. He did not permit it. He + stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning snarl + and bristling mane were anything but playful. That he allowed the + master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common dog, + loving here and loving there, everybody’s property for a romp and good + time. He loved with single heart and refused to cheapen himself or his + love. +

+

+ The master went out on horseback a great deal, and to accompany him + was one of White Fang’s chief duties in life. In the Northland he had + evidenced his fealty by toiling in the harness; but there were no + sleds in the Southland, nor did dogs pack burdens on their backs. So + he rendered fealty in the new way, by running with the master’s horse. + The longest day never played White Fang out. His was the gait of the + wolf, smooth, tireless and effortless, and at the end of fifty miles + he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse. +

+

+ It was in connection with the riding, that White Fang achieved one + other mode of expression—remarkable in that he did it but twice in all + his life. The first time occurred when the master was trying to teach + a spirited thoroughbred the method of opening and closing gates + without the rider’s dismounting. Time and again and many times he + ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to close it and each + time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away. It grew + more nervous and excited every moment. When it reared, the master put + the spurs to it and made it drop its fore-legs back to earth, + whereupon it would begin kicking with its hind-legs. White Fang + watched the performance with increasing anxiety until he could contain + himself no longer, when he sprang in front of the horse and barked + savagely and warningly. +

+

+ Though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged + him, he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master’s + presence. A scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly + under the horse’s feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to earth, + and a broken leg for the master, was the cause of it. White Fang + sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending horse, but was checked + by the master’s voice. +

+

+ “Home! Go home!” the master commanded when he had ascertained his + injury. +

+

+ White Fang was disinclined to desert him. The master thought of + writing a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper. + Again he commanded White Fang to go home. +

+

+ The latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and + whined softly. The master talked to him gently but seriously, and he + cocked his ears, and listened with painful intentness. +

+

+ “That’s all right, old fellow, you just run along home,” ran the talk. + “Go on home and tell them what’s happened to me. Home with you, you + wolf. Get along home!” +

+

+ White Fang knew the meaning of “home,” and though he did not + understand the remainder of the master’s language, he knew it was his + will that he should go home. He turned and trotted reluctantly away. + Then he stopped, undecided, and looked back over his shoulder. +

+

“Go home!” came the sharp command, and this time he obeyed.

+

+ The family was on the porch, taking the cool of the afternoon, when + White Fang arrived. He came in among them, panting, covered with dust. +

+

“Weedon’s back,” Weedon’s mother announced.

+

+ The children welcomed White Fang with glad cries and ran to meet him. + He avoided them and passed down the porch, but they cornered him + against a rocking-chair and the railing. He growled and tried to push + by them. Their mother looked apprehensively in their direction. +

+

+ “I confess, he makes me nervous around the children,” she said. “I + have a dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly some day.” +

+

+ Growling savagely, White Fang sprang out of the corner, overturning + the boy and the girl. The mother called them to her and comforted + them, telling them not to bother White Fang. +

+

+ “A wolf is a wolf!” commented Judge Scott. “There is no trusting one.” +

+

+ “But he is not all wolf,” interposed Beth, standing for her brother in + his absence. +

+

+ “You have only Weedon’s opinion for that,” rejoined the judge. “He + merely surmises that there is some strain of dog in White Fang; but as + he will tell you himself, he knows nothing about it. As for his + appearance—” +

+

+ He did not finish his sentence. White Fang stood before him, growling + fiercely. +

+

“Go away! Lie down, sir!” Judge Scott commanded.

+

+ White Fang turned to the love-master’s wife. She screamed with fright + as he seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till the frail + fabric tore away. By this time he had become the centre of interest. +

+

+ He had ceased from his growling and stood, head up, looking into their + faces. His throat worked spasmodically, but made no sound, while he + struggled with all his body, convulsed with the effort to rid himself + of the incommunicable something that strained for utterance. +

+

+ “I hope he is not going mad,” said Weedon’s mother. “I told Weedon + that I was afraid the warm climate would not agree with an Arctic + animal.” +

+

“He’s trying to speak, I do believe,” Beth announced.

+

+ At this moment speech came to White Fang, rushing up in a great burst + of barking. +

+

“Something has happened to Weedon,” his wife said decisively.

+

+ They were all on their feet now, and White Fang ran down the steps, + looking back for them to follow. For the second and last time in his + life he had barked and made himself understood. +

+

+ After this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the Sierra + Vista people, and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted + that he was a wise dog even if he was a wolf. Judge Scott still held + to the same opinion, and proved it to everybody’s dissatisfaction by + measurements and descriptions taken from the encyclopaedia and various + works on natural history. +

+

+ The days came and went, streaming their unbroken sunshine over the + Santa Clara Valley. But as they grew shorter and White Fang’s second + winter in the Southland came on, he made a strange discovery. Collie’s + teeth were no longer sharp. There was a playfulness about her nips and + a gentleness that prevented them from really hurting him. He forgot + that she had made life a burden to him, and when she disported herself + around him he responded solemnly, striving to be playful and becoming + no more than ridiculous. +

+

+ One day she led him off on a long chase through the back-pasture land + into the woods. It was the afternoon that the master was to ride, and + White Fang knew it. The horse stood saddled and waiting at the door. + White Fang hesitated. But there was that in him deeper than all the + law he had learned, than the customs that had moulded him, than his + love for the master, than the very will to live of himself; and when, + in the moment of his indecision, Collie nipped him and scampered off, + he turned and followed after. The master rode alone that day; and in + the woods, side by side, White Fang ran with Collie, as his mother, + Kiche, and old One Eye had run long years before in the silent + Northland forest. +

+
+
+

The Sleeping Wolf

+

+ It was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring + escape of a convict from San Quentin prison. He was a ferocious man. + He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been born right, and he + had not been helped any by the moulding he had received at the hands + of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this man was a + striking sample of its handiwork. He was a beast—a human beast, it is + true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he can best be + characterised as carnivorous. +

+

+ In San Quentin prison he had proved incorrigible. Punishment failed to + break his spirit. He could die dumb-mad and fighting to the last, but + he could not live and be beaten. The more fiercely he fought, the more + harshly society handled him, and the only effect of harshness was to + make him fiercer. Strait-jackets, starvation, and beatings and + clubbings were the wrong treatment for Jim Hall; but it was the + treatment he received. It was the treatment he had received from the + time he was a little pulpy boy in a San Francisco slum—soft clay in + the hands of society and ready to be formed into something. +

+

+ It was during Jim Hall’s third term in prison that he encountered a + guard that was almost as great a beast as he. The guard treated him + unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost his credits, persecuted + him. The difference between them was that the guard carried a bunch of + keys and a revolver. Jim Hall had only his naked hands and his teeth. + But he sprang upon the guard one day and used his teeth on the other’s + throat just like any jungle animal. +

+

+ After this, Jim Hall went to live in the incorrigible cell. He lived + there three years. The cell was of iron, the floor, the walls, the + roof. He never left this cell. He never saw the sky nor the sunshine. + Day was a twilight and night was a black silence. He was in an iron + tomb, buried alive. He saw no human face, spoke to no human thing. + When his food was shoved in to him, he growled like a wild animal. He + hated all things. For days and nights he bellowed his rage at the + universe. For weeks and months he never made a sound, in the black + silence eating his very soul. He was a man and a monstrosity, as + fearful a thing of fear as ever gibbered in the visions of a maddened + brain. +

+

+ And then, one night, he escaped. The warders said it was impossible, + but nevertheless the cell was empty, and half in half out of it lay + the body of a dead guard. Two other dead guards marked his trail + through the prison to the outer walls, and he had killed with his + hands to avoid noise. +

+

+ He was armed with the weapons of the slain guards—a live arsenal that + fled through the hills pursued by the organised might of society. A + heavy price of gold was upon his head. Avaricious farmers hunted him + with shot-guns. His blood might pay off a mortgage or send a son to + college. Public-spirited citizens took down their rifles and went out + after him. A pack of bloodhounds followed the way of his bleeding + feet. And the sleuth-hounds of the law, the paid fighting animals of + society, with telephone, and telegraph, and special train, clung to + his trail night and day. +

+

+ Sometimes they came upon him, and men faced him like heroes, or + stampeded through barbed-wire fences to the delight of the + commonwealth reading the account at the breakfast table. It was after + such encounters that the dead and wounded were carted back to the + towns, and their places filled by men eager for the man-hunt. +

+

+ And then Jim Hall disappeared. The bloodhounds vainly quested on the + lost trail. Inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were held up by + armed men and compelled to identify themselves. While the remains of + Jim Hall were discovered on a dozen mountain-sides by greedy claimants + for blood-money. +

+

+ In the meantime the newspapers were read at Sierra Vista, not so much + with interest as with anxiety. The women were afraid. Judge Scott + pooh-poohed and laughed, but not with reason, for it was in his last + days on the bench that Jim Hall had stood before him and received + sentence. And in open court-room, before all men, Jim Hall had + proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak vengeance on + the Judge that sentenced him. +

+

+ For once, Jim Hall was right. He was innocent of the crime for which + he was sentenced. It was a case, in the parlance of thieves and + police, of “rail-roading.” Jim Hall was being “rail-roaded” to prison + for a crime he had not committed. Because of the two prior convictions + against him, Judge Scott imposed upon him a sentence of fifty years. +

+

+ Judge Scott did not know all things, and he did not know that he was + party to a police conspiracy, that the evidence was hatched and + perjured, that Jim Hall was guiltless of the crime charged. And Jim + Hall, on the other hand, did not know that Judge Scott was merely + ignorant. Jim Hall believed that the judge knew all about it and was + hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of the monstrous + injustice. So it was, when the doom of fifty years of living death was + uttered by Judge Scott, that Jim Hall, hating all things in the + society that misused him, rose up and raged in the court-room until + dragged down by half a dozen of his blue-coated enemies. To him, Judge + Scott was the keystone in the arch of injustice, and upon Judge Scott + he emptied the vials of his wrath and hurled the threats of his + revenge yet to come. Then Jim Hall went to his living death . . . and + escaped. +

+

+ Of all this White Fang knew nothing. But between him and Alice, the + master’s wife, there existed a secret. Each night, after Sierra Vista + had gone to bed, she rose and let in White Fang to sleep in the big + hall. Now White Fang was not a house-dog, nor was he permitted to + sleep in the house; so each morning, early, she slipped down and let + him out before the family was awake. +

+

+ On one such night, while all the house slept, White Fang awoke and lay + very quietly. And very quietly he smelled the air and read the message + it bore of a strange god’s presence. And to his ears came sounds of + the strange god’s movements. White Fang burst into no furious outcry. + It was not his way. The strange god walked softly, but more softly + walked White Fang, for he had no clothes to rub against the flesh of + his body. He followed silently. In the Wild he had hunted live meat + that was infinitely timid, and he knew the advantage of surprise. +

+

+ The strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and + listened, and White Fang was as dead, so without movement was he as he + watched and waited. Up that staircase the way led to the love-master + and to the love-master’s dearest possessions. White Fang bristled, but + waited. The strange god’s foot lifted. He was beginning the ascent. +

+

+ Then it was that White Fang struck. He gave no warning, with no snarl + anticipated his own action. Into the air he lifted his body in the + spring that landed him on the strange god’s back. White Fang clung + with his fore-paws to the man’s shoulders, at the same time burying + his fangs into the back of the man’s neck. He clung on for a moment, + long enough to drag the god over backward. Together they crashed to + the floor. White Fang leaped clear, and, as the man struggled to rise, + was in again with the slashing fangs. +

+

+ Sierra Vista awoke in alarm. The noise from downstairs was as that of + a score of battling fiends. There were revolver shots. A man’s voice + screamed once in horror and anguish. There was a great snarling and + growling, and over all arose a smashing and crashing of furniture and + glass. +

+

+ But almost as quickly as it had arisen, the commotion died away. The + struggle had not lasted more than three minutes. The frightened + household clustered at the top of the stairway. From below, as from + out an abyss of blackness, came up a gurgling sound, as of air + bubbling through water. Sometimes this gurgle became sibilant, almost + a whistle. But this, too, quickly died down and ceased. Then naught + came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of some creature + struggling sorely for air. +

+

+ Weedon Scott pressed a button, and the staircase and downstairs hall + were flooded with light. Then he and Judge Scott, revolvers in hand, + cautiously descended. There was no need for this caution. White Fang + had done his work. In the midst of the wreckage of overthrown and + smashed furniture, partly on his side, his face hidden by an arm, lay + a man. Weedon Scott bent over, removed the arm and turned the man’s + face upward. A gaping throat explained the manner of his death. +

+

+ “Jim Hall,” said Judge Scott, and father and son looked significantly + at each other. +

+

+ Then they turned to White Fang. He, too, was lying on his side. His + eyes were closed, but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look at + them as they bent over him, and the tail was perceptibly agitated in a + vain effort to wag. Weedon Scott patted him, and his throat rumbled an + acknowledging growl. But it was a weak growl at best, and it quickly + ceased. His eyelids drooped and went shut, and his whole body seemed + to relax and flatten out upon the floor. +

+

“He’s all in, poor devil,” muttered the master.

+

+ “We’ll see about that,” asserted the Judge, as he started for the + telephone. +

+

+ “Frankly, he has one chance in a thousand,” announced the surgeon, + after he had worked an hour and a half on White Fang. +

+

+ Dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric lights. + With the exception of the children, the whole family was gathered + about the surgeon to hear his verdict. +

+

+ “One broken hind-leg,” he went on. “Three broken ribs, one at least of + which has pierced the lungs. He has lost nearly all the blood in his + body. There is a large likelihood of internal injuries. He must have + been jumped upon. To say nothing of three bullet holes clear through + him. One chance in a thousand is really optimistic. He hasn’t a chance + in ten thousand.” +

+

+ “But he mustn’t lose any chance that might be of help to him,” Judge + Scott exclaimed. “Never mind expense. Put him under the + X-ray—anything. Weedon, telegraph at once to San Francisco for Doctor + Nichols. No reflection on you, doctor, you understand; but he must + have the advantage of every chance.” +

+

+ The surgeon smiled indulgently. “Of course I understand. He deserves + all that can be done for him. He must be nursed as you would nurse a + human being, a sick child. And don’t forget what I told you about + temperature. I’ll be back at ten o’clock again.” +

+

+ White Fang received the nursing. Judge Scott’s suggestion of a trained + nurse was indignantly clamoured down by the girls, who themselves + undertook the task. And White Fang won out on the one chance in ten + thousand denied him by the surgeon. +

+

+ The latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment. All his life he + had tended and operated on the soft humans of civilisation, who lived + sheltered lives and had descended out of many sheltered generations. + Compared with White Fang, they were frail and flabby, and clutched + life without any strength in their grip. White Fang had come straight + from the Wild, where the weak perish early and shelter is vouchsafed + to none. In neither his father nor his mother was there any weakness, + nor in the generations before them. A constitution of iron and the + vitality of the Wild were White Fang’s inheritance, and he clung to + life, the whole of him and every part of him, in spirit and in flesh, + with the tenacity that of old belonged to all creatures. +

+

+ Bound down a prisoner, denied even movement by the plaster casts and + bandages, White Fang lingered out the weeks. He slept long hours and + dreamed much, and through his mind passed an unending pageant of + Northland visions. All the ghosts of the past arose and were with him. + Once again he lived in the lair with Kiche, crept trembling to the + knees of Grey Beaver to tender his allegiance, ran for his life before + Lip-lip and all the howling bedlam of the puppy-pack. +

+

+ He ran again through the silence, hunting his living food through the + months of famine; and again he ran at the head of the team, the + gut-whips of Mit-sah and Grey Beaver snapping behind, their voices + crying “Ra! Raa!” when they came to a narrow passage and the team + closed together like a fan to go through. He lived again all his days + with Beauty Smith and the fights he had fought. At such times he + whimpered and snarled in his sleep, and they that looked on said that + his dreams were bad. +

+

+ But there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered—the + clanking, clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him colossal + screaming lynxes. He would lie in a screen of bushes, watching for a + squirrel to venture far enough out on the ground from its tree-refuge. + Then, when he sprang out upon it, it would transform itself into an + electric car, menacing and terrible, towering over him like a + mountain, screaming and clanging and spitting fire at him. It was the + same when he challenged the hawk down out of the sky. Down out of the + blue it would rush, as it dropped upon him changing itself into the + ubiquitous electric car. Or again, he would be in the pen of Beauty + Smith. Outside the pen, men would be gathering, and he knew that a + fight was on. He watched the door for his antagonist to enter. The + door would open, and thrust in upon him would come the awful electric + car. A thousand times this occurred, and each time the terror it + inspired was as vivid and great as ever. +

+

+ Then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast were + taken off. It was a gala day. All Sierra Vista was gathered around. + The master rubbed his ears, and he crooned his love-growl. The + master’s wife called him the “Blessed Wolf,” which name was taken up + with acclaim and all the women called him the Blessed Wolf. +

+

+ He tried to rise to his feet, and after several attempts fell down + from weakness. He had lain so long that his muscles had lost their + cunning, and all the strength had gone out of them. He felt a little + shame because of his weakness, as though, forsooth, he were failing + the gods in the service he owed them. Because of this he made heroic + efforts to arise and at last he stood on his four legs, tottering and + swaying back and forth. +

+

“The Blessed Wolf!” chorused the women.

+

Judge Scott surveyed them triumphantly.

+

+ “Out of your own mouths be it,” he said. “Just as I contended right + along. No mere dog could have done what he did. He’s a wolf.” +

+

“A Blessed Wolf,” amended the Judge’s wife.

+

+ “Yes, Blessed Wolf,” agreed the Judge. “And henceforth that shall be + my name for him.” +

+

+ “He’ll have to learn to walk again,” said the surgeon; “so he might as + well start in right now. It won’t hurt him. Take him outside.” +

+

+ And outside he went, like a king, with all Sierra Vista about him and + tending on him. He was very weak, and when he reached the lawn he lay + down and rested for a while. +

+

+ Then the procession started on, little spurts of strength coming into + White Fang’s muscles as he used them and the blood began to surge + through them. The stables were reached, and there in the doorway, lay + Collie, a half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her in the sun. +

+

+ White Fang looked on with a wondering eye. Collie snarled warningly at + him, and he was careful to keep his distance. The master with his toe + helped one sprawling puppy toward him. He bristled suspiciously, but + the master warned him that all was well. Collie, clasped in the arms + of one of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl warned him + that all was not well. +

+

+ The puppy sprawled in front of him. He cocked his ears and watched it + curiously. Then their noses touched, and he felt the warm little + tongue of the puppy on his jowl. White Fang’s tongue went out, he knew + not why, and he licked the puppy’s face. +

+

+ Hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance. + He was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. Then his + weakness asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, his head + on one side, as he watched the puppy. The other puppies came sprawling + toward him, to Collie’s great disgust; and he gravely permitted them + to clamber and tumble over him. At first, amid the applause of the + gods, he betrayed a trifle of his old self-consciousness and + awkwardness. This passed away as the puppies’ antics and mauling + continued, and he lay with half-shut patient eyes, drowsing in the + sun. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3ffbae --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/ch05.md @@ -0,0 +1,1417 @@ +--- +title: Part V +class: part +--- + +## + +### The Long Trail + +It was in the air. White Fang sensed the coming calamity, even +before there was tangible evidence of it. In vague ways it was +borne in upon him that a change was impending. He knew not how +nor why, yet he got his feel of the oncoming event from the gods themselves. +In ways subtler than they knew, they betrayed their intentions to the +wolf-dog that haunted the cabin-stoop, and that, though he never came +inside the cabin, knew what went on inside their brains. + +“Listen to that, will you!” the dug-musher exclaimed +at supper one night. + +Weedon Scott listened. Through the door came a low, anxious +whine, like a sobbing under the breath that had just grown audible. +Then came the long sniff, as White Fang reassured himself that his god +was still inside and had not yet taken himself off in mysterious and +solitary flight. + +“I do believe that wolf’s on to you,” the dog-musher +said. + +Weedon Scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost +pleaded, though this was given the lie by his words. + +“What the devil can I do with a wolf in California?” +he demanded. + +“That’s what I say,” Matt answered. “What +the devil can you do with a wolf in California?” + +But this did not satisfy Weedon Scott. The other seemed to +be judging him in a non-committal sort of way. + +“White man’s dogs would have no show against him,” +Scott went on. “He’d kill them on sight. If +he didn’t bankrupt me with damaged suits, the authorities would +take him away from me and electrocute him.” + +“He’s a downright murderer, I know,” was the dog-musher’s +comment. + +Weedon Scott looked at him suspiciously. + +“It would never do,” he said decisively. + +“It would never do!” Matt concurred. “Why +you’d have to hire a man ’specially to take care of ’m.” + +The other suspicion was allayed. He nodded cheerfully. +In the silence that followed, the low, half-sobbing whine was heard +at the door and then the long, questing sniff. + +“There’s no denyin’ he thinks a hell of a lot of +you,” Matt said. + +The other glared at him in sudden wrath. “Damn it all, +man! I know my own mind and what’s best!” + +“I’m agreein’ with you, only . . . ” + +“Only what?” Scott snapped out. + +“Only . . . ” the dog-musher began softly, then changed +his mind and betrayed a rising anger of his own. “Well, +you needn’t get so all-fired het up about it. Judgin’ +by your actions one’d think you didn’t know your own mind.” + +Weedon Scott debated with himself for a while, and then said more +gently: “You are right, Matt. I don’t know my own +mind, and that’s what’s the trouble.” + +“Why, it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog +along,” he broke out after another pause. + +“I’m agreein’ with you,” was Matt’s +answer, and again his employer was not quite satisfied with him. + +“But how in the name of the great Sardanapolis he knows you’re +goin’ is what gets me,” the dog-musher continued innocently. + +“It’s beyond me, Matt,” Scott answered, with a +mournful shake of the head. + +Then came the day when, through the open cabin door, White Fang saw +the fatal grip on the floor and the love-master packing things into +it. Also, there were comings and goings, and the erstwhile placid +atmosphere of the cabin was vexed with strange perturbations and unrest. +Here was indubitable evidence. White Fang had already scented +it. He now reasoned it. His god was preparing for another +flight. And since he had not taken him with him before, so, now, +he could look to be left behind. + +That night he lifted the long wolf-howl. As he had howled, +in his puppy days, when he fled back from the Wild to the village to +find it vanished and naught but a rubbish-heap to mark the site of Grey +Beaver’s tepee, so now he pointed his muzzle to the cold stars +and told to them his woe. + +Inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed. + +“He’s gone off his food again,” Matt remarked from +his bunk. + +There was a grunt from Weedon Scott’s bunk, and a stir of blankets. + +“From the way he cut up the other time you went away, I wouldn’t +wonder this time but what he died.” + +The blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably. + +“Oh, shut up!” Scott cried out through the darkness. +“You nag worse than a woman.” + +“I’m agreein’ with you,” the dog-musher answered, +and Weedon Scott was not quite sure whether or not the other had snickered. + +The next day White Fang’s anxiety and restlessness were even +more pronounced. He dogged his master’s heels whenever he +left the cabin, and haunted the front stoop when he remained inside. +Through the open door he could catch glimpses of the luggage on the +floor. The grip had been joined by two large canvas bags and a +box. Matt was rolling the master’s blankets and fur robe +inside a small tarpaulin. White Fang whined as he watched the +operation. + +Later on two Indians arrived. He watched them closely as they +shouldered the luggage and were led off down the hill by Matt, who carried +the bedding and the grip. But White Fang did not follow them. +The master was still in the cabin. After a time, Matt returned. +The master came to the door and called White Fang inside. + +“You poor devil,” he said gently, rubbing White Fang’s +ears and tapping his spine. “I’m hitting the long +trail, old man, where you cannot follow. Now give me a growl—the +last, good, good-bye growl.” + +But White Fang refused to growl. Instead, and after a wistful, +searching look, he snuggled in, burrowing his head out of sight between +the master’s arm and body. + +“There she blows!” Matt cried. From the Yukon arose +the hoarse bellowing of a river steamboat. “You’ve +got to cut it short. Be sure and lock the front door. I’ll +go out the back. Get a move on!” + +The two doors slammed at the same moment, and Weedon Scott waited +for Matt to come around to the front. From inside the door came +a low whining and sobbing. Then there were long, deep-drawn sniffs. + +“You must take good care of him, Matt,” Scott said, as +they started down the hill. “Write and let me know how he +gets along.” + +“Sure,” the dog-musher answered. “But listen +to that, will you!” + +Both men stopped. White Fang was howling as dogs howl when +their masters lie dead. He was voicing an utter woe, his cry bursting +upward in great heart-breaking rushes, dying down into quavering misery, +and bursting upward again with a rush upon rush of grief. + +The _Aurora_ was the first steamboat of the year for the Outside, +and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and broken gold +seekers, all equally as mad to get to the Outside as they had been originally +to get to the Inside. Near the gang-plank, Scott was shaking hands +with Matt, who was preparing to go ashore. But Matt’s hand +went limp in the other’s grasp as his gaze shot past and remained +fixed on something behind him. Scott turned to see. Sitting +on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was White Fang. + +The dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents. Scott +could only look in wonder. + +“Did you lock the front door?” Matt demanded. The +other nodded, and asked, “How about the back?” + +“You just bet I did,” was the fervent reply. + +White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where +he was, making no attempt to approach. + +“I’ll have to take ’m ashore with me.” + +Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang, but the latter slid +away from him. The dog-musher made a rush of it, and White Fang +dodged between the legs of a group of men. Ducking, turning, doubling, +he slid about the deck, eluding the other’s efforts to capture +him. + +But when the love-master spoke, White Fang came to him with prompt +obedience. + +“Won’t come to the hand that’s fed ’m all +these months,” the dog-musher muttered resentfully. “And +you—you ain’t never fed ’m after them first days of +gettin’ acquainted. I’m blamed if I can see how he +works it out that you’re the boss.” + +Scott, who had been patting White Fang, suddenly bent closer and +pointed out fresh-made cuts on his muzzle, and a gash between the eyes. + +Matt bent over and passed his hand along White Fang’s belly. + +“We plump forgot the window. He’s all cut an’ +gouged underneath. Must ‘a’ butted clean through it, +b’gosh!” + +But Weedon Scott was not listening. He was thinking rapidly. +The _Aurora’s_ whistle hooted a final announcement of departure. +Men were scurrying down the gang-plank to the shore. Matt loosened +the bandana from his own neck and started to put it around White Fang’s. +Scott grasped the dog-musher’s hand. + +“Good-bye, Matt, old man. About the wolf—you needn’t +write. You see, I’ve . . . !” + +“What!” the dog-musher exploded. “You don’t +mean to say . . .?” + +“The very thing I mean. Here’s your bandana. +I’ll write to you about him.” + +Matt paused halfway down the gang-plank. + +“He’ll never stand the climate!” he shouted back. +“Unless you clip ’m in warm weather!” + +The gang-plank was hauled in, and the _Aurora_ swung out from +the bank. Weedon Scott waved a last good-bye. Then he turned +and bent over White Fang, standing by his side. + +“Now growl, damn you, growl,” he said, as he patted the +responsive head and rubbed the flattening ears. + +### The Southland + +White Fang landed from the steamer in San Francisco. He was +appalled. Deep in him, below any reasoning process or act of consciousness, +he had associated power with godhead. And never had the white +men seemed such marvellous gods as now, when he trod the slimy pavement +of San Francisco. The log cabins he had known were replaced by +towering buildings. The streets were crowded with perils—waggons, +carts, automobiles; great, straining horses pulling huge trucks; and +monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and clanging through the midst, +screeching their insistent menace after the manner of the lynxes he +had known in the northern woods. + +All this was the manifestation of power. Through it all, behind +it all, was man, governing and controlling, expressing himself, as of +old, by his mastery over matter. It was colossal, stunning. +White Fang was awed. Fear sat upon him. As in his cubhood +he had been made to feel his smallness and puniness on the day he first +came in from the Wild to the village of Grey Beaver, so now, in his +full-grown stature and pride of strength, he was made to feel small +and puny. And there were so many gods! He was made dizzy +by the swarming of them. The thunder of the streets smote upon +his ears. He was bewildered by the tremendous and endless rush +and movement of things. As never before, he felt his dependence +on the love-master, close at whose heels he followed, no matter what +happened never losing sight of him. + +But White Fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the +city—an experience that was like a bad dream, unreal and terrible, +that haunted him for long after in his dreams. He was put into +a baggage-car by the master, chained in a corner in the midst of heaped +trunks and valises. Here a squat and brawny god held sway, with +much noise, hurling trunks and boxes about, dragging them in through +the door and tossing them into the piles, or flinging them out of the +door, smashing and crashing, to other gods who awaited them. + +And here, in this inferno of luggage, was White Fang deserted by +the master. Or at least White Fang thought he was deserted, until +he smelled out the master’s canvas clothes-bags alongside of him, +and proceeded to mount guard over them. + +“’Bout time you come,” growled the god of the car, +an hour later, when Weedon Scott appeared at the door. “That +dog of yourn won’t let me lay a finger on your stuff.” + +White Fang emerged from the car. He was astonished. The +nightmare city was gone. The car had been to him no more than +a room in a house, and when he had entered it the city had been all +around him. In the interval the city had disappeared. The +roar of it no longer dinned upon his ears. Before him was smiling +country, streaming with sunshine, lazy with quietude. But he had +little time to marvel at the transformation. He accepted it as +he accepted all the unaccountable doings and manifestations of the gods. +It was their way. + +There was a carriage waiting. A man and a woman approached +the master. The woman’s arms went out and clutched the master +around the neck—a hostile act! The next moment Weedon Scott +had torn loose from the embrace and closed with White Fang, who had +become a snarling, raging demon. + +“It’s all right, mother,” Scott was saying as he +kept tight hold of White Fang and placated him. “He thought +you were going to injure me, and he wouldn’t stand for it. +It’s all right. It’s all right. He’ll +learn soon enough.” + +“And in the meantime I may be permitted to love my son when +his dog is not around,” she laughed, though she was pale and weak +from the fright. + +She looked at White Fang, who snarled and bristled and glared malevolently. + +“He’ll have to learn, and he shall, without postponement,” +Scott said. + +He spoke softly to White Fang until he had quieted him, then his +voice became firm. + +“Down, sir! Down with you!” + +This had been one of the things taught him by the master, and White +Fang obeyed, though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly. + +“Now, mother.” + +Scott opened his arms to her, but kept his eyes on White Fang. + +“Down!” he warned. “Down!” + +White Fang, bristling silently, half-crouching as he rose, sank back +and watched the hostile act repeated. But no harm came of it, +nor of the embrace from the strange man-god that followed. Then +the clothes-bags were taken into the carriage, the strange gods and +the love-master followed, and White Fang pursued, now running vigilantly +behind, now bristling up to the running horses and warning them that +he was there to see that no harm befell the god they dragged so swiftly +across the earth. + +At the end of fifteen minutes, the carriage swung in through a stone +gateway and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut +trees. On either side stretched lawns, their broad sweep broken +here and there by great sturdy-limbed oaks. In the near distance, +in contrast with the young-green of the tended grass, sunburnt hay-fields +showed tan and gold; while beyond were the tawny hills and upland pastures. +From the head of the lawn, on the first soft swell from the valley-level, +looked down the deep-porched, many-windowed house. + +Little opportunity was given White Fang to see all this. Hardly +had the carriage entered the grounds, when he was set upon by a sheep-dog, +bright-eyed, sharp-muzzled, righteously indignant and angry. It +was between him and the master, cutting him off. White Fang snarled +no warning, but his hair bristled as he made his silent and deadly rush. +This rush was never completed. He halted with awkward abruptness, +with stiff fore-legs bracing himself against his momentum, almost sitting +down on his haunches, so desirous was he of avoiding contact with the +dog he was in the act of attacking. It was a female, and the law +of his kind thrust a barrier between. For him to attack her would +require nothing less than a violation of his instinct. + +But with the sheep-dog it was otherwise. Being a female, she +possessed no such instinct. On the other hand, being a sheep-dog, +her instinctive fear of the Wild, and especially of the wolf, was unusually +keen. White Fang was to her a wolf, the hereditary marauder who +had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep were first herded and +guarded by some dim ancestor of hers. And so, as he abandoned +his rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact, she sprang +upon him. He snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth in his +shoulder, but beyond this made no offer to hurt her. He backed +away, stiff-legged with self-consciousness, and tried to go around her. +He dodged this way and that, and curved and turned, but to no purpose. +She remained always between him and the way he wanted to go. + +“Here, Collie!” called the strange man in the carriage. + +Weedon Scott laughed. + +“Never mind, father. It is good discipline. White +Fang will have to learn many things, and it’s just as well that +he begins now. He’ll adjust himself all right.” + +The carriage drove on, and still Collie blocked White Fang’s +way. He tried to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling +across the lawn but she ran on the inner and smaller circle, and was +always there, facing him with her two rows of gleaming teeth. +Back he circled, across the drive to the other lawn, and again she headed +him off. + +The carriage was bearing the master away. White Fang caught +glimpses of it disappearing amongst the trees. The situation was +desperate. He essayed another circle. She followed, running +swiftly. And then, suddenly, he turned upon her. It was +his old fighting trick. Shoulder to shoulder, he struck her squarely. +Not only was she overthrown. So fast had she been running that +she rolled along, now on her back, now on her side, as she struggled +to stop, clawing gravel with her feet and crying shrilly her hurt pride +and indignation. + +White Fang did not wait. The way was clear, and that was all +he had wanted. She took after him, never ceasing her outcry. +It was the straightaway now, and when it came to real running, White +Fang could teach her things. She ran frantically, hysterically, +straining to the utmost, advertising the effort she was making with +every leap: and all the time White Fang slid smoothly away from her +silently, without effort, gliding like a ghost over the ground. + +As he rounded the house to the _porte-cochère_, he came +upon the carriage. It had stopped, and the master was alighting. +At this moment, still running at top speed, White Fang became suddenly +aware of an attack from the side. It was a deer-hound rushing +upon him. White Fang tried to face it. But he was going +too fast, and the hound was too close. It struck him on the side; +and such was his forward momentum and the unexpectedness of it, White +Fang was hurled to the ground and rolled clear over. He came out +of the tangle a spectacle of malignancy, ears flattened back, lips writhing, +nose wrinkling, his teeth clipping together as the fangs barely missed +the hound’s soft throat. + +The master was running up, but was too far away; and it was Collie +that saved the hound’s life. Before White Fang could spring +in and deliver the fatal stroke, and just as he was in the act of springing +in, Collie arrived. She had been out-manoeuvred and out-run, to +say nothing of her having been unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel, +and her arrival was like that of a tornado—made up of offended +dignity, justifiable wrath, and instinctive hatred for this marauder +from the Wild. She struck White Fang at right angles in the midst +of his spring, and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over. + +The next moment the master arrived, and with one hand held White +Fang, while the father called off the dogs. + +“I say, this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf +from the Arctic,” the master said, while White Fang calmed down +under his caressing hand. “In all his life he’s only +been known once to go off his feet, and here he’s been rolled +twice in thirty seconds.” + +The carriage had driven away, and other strange gods had appeared +from out the house. Some of these stood respectfully at a distance; +but two of them, women, perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the +master around the neck. White Fang, however, was beginning to +tolerate this act. No harm seemed to come of it, while the noises +the gods made were certainly not threatening. These gods also +made overtures to White Fang, but he warned them off with a snarl, and +the master did likewise with word of mouth. At such times White +Fang leaned in close against the master’s legs and received reassuring +pats on the head. + +The hound, under the command, “Dick! Lie down, sir!” +had gone up the steps and lain down to one side of the porch, still +growling and keeping a sullen watch on the intruder. Collie had +been taken in charge by one of the woman-gods, who held arms around +her neck and petted and caressed her; but Collie was very much perplexed +and worried, whining and restless, outraged by the permitted presence +of this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake. + +All the gods started up the steps to enter the house. White +Fang followed closely at the master’s heels. Dick, on the +porch, growled, and White Fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back. + +“Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out,” +suggested Scott’s father. “After that they’ll +be friends.” + +“Then White Fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief +mourner at the funeral,” laughed the master. + +The elder Scott looked incredulously, first at White Fang, then at +Dick, and finally at his son. + +“You mean . . .?” + +Weedon nodded his head. “I mean just that. You’d +have a dead Dick inside one minute—two minutes at the farthest.” + +He turned to White Fang. “Come on, you wolf. It’s +you that’ll have to come inside.” + +White Fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and across the porch, +with tail rigidly erect, keeping his eyes on Dick to guard against a +flank attack, and at the same time prepared for whatever fierce manifestation +of the unknown that might pounce out upon him from the interior of the +house. But no thing of fear pounced out, and when he had gained +the inside he scouted carefully around, looking at it and finding it +not. Then he lay down with a contented grunt at the master’s +feet, observing all that went on, ever ready to spring to his feet and +fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under the trap-roof +of the dwelling. + +### The God’s Domain + +Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled +much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, +in Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White +Fang quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further +serious trouble with the dogs. They knew more about the ways of +the Southland gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified when +he accompanied the gods inside the house. Wolf that he was, and +unprecedented as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and they, +the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction. + +Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, +after which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the premises. +Had Dick had his way, they would have been good friends. All but +White Fang was averse to friendship. All he asked of other dogs +was to be let alone. His whole life he had kept aloof from his +kind, and he still desired to keep aloof. Dick’s overtures +bothered him, so he snarled Dick away. In the north he had learned +the lesson that he must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did +not forget that lesson now. But he insisted on his own privacy +and self-seclusion, and so thoroughly ignored Dick that that good-natured +creature finally gave him up and scarcely took as much interest in him +as in the hitching-post near the stable. + +Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the +mandate of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in +peace. Woven into her being was the memory of countless crimes +he and his had perpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day +nor a generation were the ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. +All this was a spur to her, pricking her to retaliation. She could +not fly in the face of the gods who permitted him, but that did not +prevent her from making life miserable for him in petty ways. +A feud, ages old, was between them, and she, for one, would see to it +that he was reminded. + +So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreat +him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while her +persistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed +at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked +away stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he +was compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, +his head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient +and bored expression. Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters +hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. But as +a rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity. +He ignored her existence whenever it was possible, and made it a point +to keep out of her way. When he saw or heard her coming, he got +up and walked off. + +There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life +in the Northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated +affairs of Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family +of the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah +and Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, +and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the love-master +all the denizens of the house. + +But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. +Sierra Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. +There were many persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, +and there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, +Beth and Mary. There was his wife, Alice, and then there were +his children, Weedon and Maud, toddlers of four and six. There +was no way for anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties +and relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable +of knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged +to the master. Then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, +by study of action, speech, and the very intonations of the voice, he +slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of favour they enjoyed with +the master. And by this ascertained standard, White Fang treated +them accordingly. What was of value to the master he valued; what +was dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and guarded +carefully. + +Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked +children. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were +not tender that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days +of the Indian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached +him, he growled warningly and looked malignant. A cuff from the +master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses, +though he growled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl +there was no crooning note. Later, he observed that the boy and +girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Then it was +that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him. + +Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate. He yielded +to the master’s children with an ill but honest grace, and endured +their fooling as one would endure a painful operation. When he +could no longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly away +from them. But after a time, he grew even to like the children. +Still he was not demonstrative. He would not go up to them. +On the other hand, instead of walking away at sight of them, he waited +for them to come to him. And still later, it was noticed that +a pleased light came into his eyes when he saw them approaching, and +that he looked after them with an appearance of curious regret when +they left him for other amusements. + +All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in +his regard, after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two +reasons, possibly, for this. First, he was evidently a valuable +possession of the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. +White Fang liked to lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the +newspaper, from time to time favouring White Fang with a look or a word—untroublesome +tokens that he recognised White Fang’s presence and existence. +But this was only when the master was not around. When the master +appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as White Fang was +concerned. + +White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make +much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. +No caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try +as they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling against +them. This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, +he reserved for the master alone. In fact, he never regarded the +members of the family in any other light than possessions of the love-master. + +Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family +and the servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, +while he merely refrained from attacking them. This because he +considered that they were likewise possessions of the master. +Between White Fang and them existed a neutrality and no more. +They cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things +just as Matt had done up in the Klondike. They were, in short, +appurtenances of the household. + +Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. +The master’s domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes +and bounds. The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside +was the common domain of all gods—the roads and streets. +Then inside other fences were the particular domains of other gods. +A myriad laws governed all these things and determined conduct; yet +he did not know the speech of the gods, nor was there any way for him +to learn save by experience. He obeyed his natural impulses until +they ran him counter to some law. When this had been done a few +times, he learned the law and after that observed it. + +But most potent in his education was the cuff of the master’s +hand, the censure of the master’s voice. Because of White +Fang’s very great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more +than any beating Grey Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. +They had hurt only the flesh of him; beneath the flesh the spirit had +still raged, splendid and invincible. But with the master the +cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. Yet it went deeper. +It was an expression of the master’s disapproval, and White Fang’s +spirit wilted under it. + +In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master’s +voice was sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right +or not. By it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. +It was the compass by which he steered and learned to chart the manners +of a new land and life. + +In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. +All other animals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, +lawful spoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged +among the live things for food. It did not enter his head that +in the Southland it was otherwise. But this he was to learn early +in his residence in Santa Clara Valley. Sauntering around the +corner of the house in the early morning, he came upon a chicken that +had escaped from the chicken-yard. White Fang’s natural +impulse was to eat it. A couple of bounds, a flash of teeth and +a frightened squawk, and he had scooped in the adventurous fowl. +It was farm-bred and fat and tender; and White Fang licked his chops +and decided that such fare was good. + +Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the +stables. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. He did not +know White Fang’s breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. +At the first cut of the whip, White Fang left the chicken for the man. +A club might have stopped White Fang, but not a whip. Silently, +without flinching, he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as +he leaped for the throat the groom cried out, “My God!” +and staggered backward. He dropped the whip and shielded his throat +with his arms. In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to +the bone. + +The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang’s +ferocity as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still +protecting his throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried +to retreat to the barn. And it would have gone hard with him had +not Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s +life, she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang +in frenzied wrath. She had been right. She had known better +than the blundering gods. All her suspicions were justified. +Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again. + +The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away before +Collie’s wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled +round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont, +after a decent interval of chastisement. On the contrary, she +grew more excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, White Fang +flung dignity to the winds and frankly fled away from her across the +fields. + +“He’ll learn to leave chickens alone,” the master +said. “But I can’t give him the lesson until I catch +him in the act.” + +Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than +the master had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely the +chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, +after they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly +hauled lumber. From there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, +passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. A +moment later he was inside the house, and the slaughter began. + +In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty white +Leghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. +He whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the +end, with admiration. His eyes were likewise greeted by White +Fang, but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. +He carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved +a deed praiseworthy and meritorious. There was about him no consciousness +of sin. The master’s lips tightened as he faced the disagreeable +task. Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, and in +his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. Also, he held White +Fang’s nose down to the slain hens, and at the same time cuffed +him soundly. + +White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against +the law, and he had learned it. Then the master took him into +the chicken-yards. White Fang’s natural impulse, when he +saw the live food fluttering about him and under his very nose, was +to spring upon it. He obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the +master’s voice. They continued in the yards for half an +hour. Time and again the impulse surged over White Fang, and each +time, as he yielded to it, he was checked by the master’s voice. +Thus it was he learned the law, and ere he left the domain of the chickens, +he had learned to ignore their existence. + +“You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott +shook his head sadly at luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson +he had given White Fang. “Once they’ve got the habit +and the taste of blood . . .” Again he shook his head sadly. + +But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll +tell you what I’ll do,” he challenged finally. “I’ll +lock White Fang in with the chickens all afternoon.” + +“But think of the chickens,” objected the judge. + +“And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every +chicken he kills, I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm.” + +“But you should penalise father, too,” interpose Beth. + +Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around +the table. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement. + +“All right.” Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. +“And if, at the end of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t harmed +a chicken, for every ten minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, +you will have to say to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as +if you were sitting on the bench and solemnly passing judgment, ‘White +Fang, you are smarter than I thought.’” + +From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. +But it was a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted by +the master, White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got +up and walked over to the trough for a drink of water. The chickens +he calmly ignored. So far as he was concerned they did not exist. +At four o’clock he executed a running jump, gained the roof of +the chicken-house and leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered +gravely to the house. He had learned the law. And on the +porch, before the delighted family, Judge Scott, face to face with White +Fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you +are smarter than I thought.” + +But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and +often brought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must +not touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there +were cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. +In fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was +that he must leave all live things alone. Out in the back-pasture, +a quail could flutter up under his nose unharmed. All tense and +trembling with eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and stood +still. He was obeying the will of the gods. + +And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start +a jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and +did not interfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the +chase. And thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. +In the end he worked out the complete law. Between him and all +domestic animals there must be no hostilities. If not amity, at +least neutrality must obtain. But the other animals—the +squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who +had never yielded allegiance to man. They were the lawful prey +of any dog. It was only the tame that the gods protected, and +between the tame deadly strife was not permitted. The gods held +the power of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous +of their power. + +Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities +of the Northland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies +of civilisation was control, restraint—a poise of self that was +as delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time +as rigid as steel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found +he must meet them all—thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, +running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage +stopped. Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually +impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments +and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress +his natural impulses. + +There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This +meat he must not touch. There were cats at the houses the master +visited that must be let alone. And there were dogs everywhere +that snarled at him and that he must not attack. And then, on +the crowded sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose attention +he attracted. They would stop and look at him, point him out to +one another, examine him, talk of him, and, worst of all, pat him. +And these perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure. +Yet this endurance he achieved. Furthermore, he got over being +awkward and self-conscious. In a lofty way he received the attentions +of the multitudes of strange gods. With condescension he accepted +their condescension. On the other hand, there was something about +him that prevented great familiarity. They patted him on the head +and passed on, contented and pleased with their own daring. + +But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the +carriage in the outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small +boys who made a practice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew +that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here +he was compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate +it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation. + +Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. +He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. But there +is a certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense +in him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defence +against the stone-throwers. He forgot that in the covenant entered +into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and +defend him. But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip +in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. After that they +threw stones no more, and White Fang understood and was satisfied. + +One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way +to town, hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs +that made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. +Knowing his deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing +upon White Fang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having +learned the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed +the cross-roads saloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl +kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping +and bickering and insulting him. This endured for some time. +The men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang. +One day they openly sicked the dogs on him. The master stopped +the carriage. + +“Go to it,” he said to White Fang. + +But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, +and he looked at the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly +at the master. + +The master nodded his head. “Go to them, old fellow. +Eat them up.” + +White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently +among his enemies. All three faced him. There was a great +snarling and growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. +The dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. +But at the end of several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt +and the third was in full flight. He leaped a ditch, went through +a rail fence, and fled across a field. White Fang followed, sliding +over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without +noise, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog. + +With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. +The word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs +did not molest the Fighting Wolf. + +### The Call of Kind + +The months came and went. There was plenty of food and no work +in the Southland, and White Fang lived fat and prosperous and happy. +Not alone was he in the geographical Southland, for he was in the Southland +of life. Human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, and he +flourished like a flower planted in good soil. + +And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. He knew +the law even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, +and he observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about +him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered +in him and the wolf in him merely slept. + +He never chummed with other dogs. Lonely he had lived, so far +as his kind was concerned, and lonely he would continue to live. +In his puppyhood, under the persecution of Lip-lip and the puppy-pack, +and in his fighting days with Beauty Smith, he had acquired a fixed +aversion for dogs. The natural course of his life had been diverted, +and, recoiling from his kind, he had clung to the human. + +Besides, all Southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion. +He aroused in them their instinctive fear of the Wild, and they greeted +him always with snarl and growl and belligerent hatred. He, on +the other hand, learned that it was not necessary to use his teeth upon +them. His naked fangs and writhing lips were uniformly efficacious, +rarely failing to send a bellowing on-rushing dog back on its haunches. + +But there was one trial in White Fang’s life—Collie. +She never gave him a moment’s peace. She was not so amenable +to the law as he. She defied all efforts of the master to make +her become friends with White Fang. Ever in his ears was sounding +her sharp and nervous snarl. She had never forgiven him the chicken-killing +episode, and persistently held to the belief that his intentions were +bad. She found him guilty before the act, and treated him accordingly. +She became a pest to him, like a policeman following him around the +stable and the hounds, and, if he even so much as glanced curiously +at a pigeon or chicken, bursting into an outcry of indignation and wrath. +His favourite way of ignoring her was to lie down, with his head on +his fore-paws, and pretend sleep. This always dumfounded and silenced +her. + +With the exception of Collie, all things went well with White Fang. +He had learned control and poise, and he knew the law. He achieved +a staidness, and calmness, and philosophic tolerance. He no longer +lived in a hostile environment. Danger and hurt and death did +not lurk everywhere about him. In time, the unknown, as a thing +of terror and menace ever impending, faded away. Life was soft +and easy. It flowed along smoothly, and neither fear nor foe lurked +by the way. + +He missed the snow without being aware of it. “An unduly +long summer,” would have been his thought had he thought about +it; as it was, he merely missed the snow in a vague, subconscious way. +In the same fashion, especially in the heat of summer when he suffered +from the sun, he experienced faint longings for the Northland. +Their only effect upon him, however, was to make him uneasy and restless +without his knowing what was the matter. + +White Fang had never been very demonstrative. Beyond his snuggling +and the throwing of a crooning note into his love-growl, he had no way +of expressing his love. Yet it was given him to discover a third +way. He had always been susceptible to the laughter of the gods. +Laughter had affected him with madness, made him frantic with rage. +But he did not have it in him to be angry with the love-master, and +when that god elected to laugh at him in a good-natured, bantering way, +he was nonplussed. He could feel the pricking and stinging of +the old anger as it strove to rise up in him, but it strove against +love. He could not be angry; yet he had to do something. +At first he was dignified, and the master laughed the harder. +Then he tried to be more dignified, and the master laughed harder than +before. In the end, the master laughed him out of his dignity. +His jaws slightly parted, his lips lifted a little, and a quizzical +expression that was more love than humour came into his eyes. +He had learned to laugh. + +Likewise he learned to romp with the master, to be tumbled down and +rolled over, and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks. In +return he feigned anger, bristling and growling ferociously, and clipping +his teeth together in snaps that had all the seeming of deadly intention. +But he never forgot himself. Those snaps were always delivered +on the empty air. At the end of such a romp, when blow and cuff +and snap and snarl were last and furious, they would break off suddenly +and stand several feet apart, glaring at each other. And then, +just as suddenly, like the sun rising on a stormy sea, they would begin +to laugh. This would always culminate with the master’s +arms going around White Fang’s neck and shoulders while the latter +crooned and growled his love-song. + +But nobody else ever romped with White Fang. He did not permit +it. He stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning +snarl and bristling mane were anything but playful. That he allowed +the master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common +dog, loving here and loving there, everybody’s property for a +romp and good time. He loved with single heart and refused to +cheapen himself or his love. + +The master went out on horseback a great deal, and to accompany him +was one of White Fang’s chief duties in life. In the Northland +he had evidenced his fealty by toiling in the harness; but there were +no sleds in the Southland, nor did dogs pack burdens on their backs. +So he rendered fealty in the new way, by running with the master’s +horse. The longest day never played White Fang out. His +was the gait of the wolf, smooth, tireless and effortless, and at the +end of fifty miles he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse. + +It was in connection with the riding, that White Fang achieved one +other mode of expression—remarkable in that he did it but twice +in all his life. The first time occurred when the master was trying +to teach a spirited thoroughbred the method of opening and closing gates +without the rider’s dismounting. Time and again and many +times he ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to close it and +each time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away. +It grew more nervous and excited every moment. When it reared, +the master put the spurs to it and made it drop its fore-legs back to +earth, whereupon it would begin kicking with its hind-legs. White +Fang watched the performance with increasing anxiety until he could +contain himself no longer, when he sprang in front of the horse and +barked savagely and warningly. + +Though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged +him, he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master’s +presence. A scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly +under the horse’s feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to +earth, and a broken leg for the master, was the cause of it. White +Fang sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending horse, but was +checked by the master’s voice. + +“Home! Go home!” the master commanded when he had +ascertained his injury. + +White Fang was disinclined to desert him. The master thought +of writing a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper. +Again he commanded White Fang to go home. + +The latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and +whined softly. The master talked to him gently but seriously, +and he cocked his ears, and listened with painful intentness. + +“That’s all right, old fellow, you just run along home,” +ran the talk. “Go on home and tell them what’s happened +to me. Home with you, you wolf. Get along home!” + +White Fang knew the meaning of “home,” and though he +did not understand the remainder of the master’s language, he +knew it was his will that he should go home. He turned and trotted +reluctantly away. Then he stopped, undecided, and looked back +over his shoulder. + +“Go home!” came the sharp command, and this time he obeyed. + +The family was on the porch, taking the cool of the afternoon, when +White Fang arrived. He came in among them, panting, covered with +dust. + +“Weedon’s back,” Weedon’s mother announced. + +The children welcomed White Fang with glad cries and ran to meet +him. He avoided them and passed down the porch, but they cornered +him against a rocking-chair and the railing. He growled and tried +to push by them. Their mother looked apprehensively in their direction. + +“I confess, he makes me nervous around the children,” +she said. “I have a dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly +some day.” + +Growling savagely, White Fang sprang out of the corner, overturning +the boy and the girl. The mother called them to her and comforted +them, telling them not to bother White Fang. + +“A wolf is a wolf!” commented Judge Scott. “There +is no trusting one.” + +“But he is not all wolf,” interposed Beth, standing for +her brother in his absence. + +“You have only Weedon’s opinion for that,” rejoined +the judge. “He merely surmises that there is some strain +of dog in White Fang; but as he will tell you himself, he knows nothing +about it. As for his appearance—” + +He did not finish his sentence. White Fang stood before him, +growling fiercely. + +“Go away! Lie down, sir!” Judge Scott commanded. + +White Fang turned to the love-master’s wife. She screamed +with fright as he seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till +the frail fabric tore away. By this time he had become the centre +of interest. + +He had ceased from his growling and stood, head up, looking into +their faces. His throat worked spasmodically, but made no sound, +while he struggled with all his body, convulsed with the effort to rid +himself of the incommunicable something that strained for utterance. + +“I hope he is not going mad,” said Weedon’s mother. +“I told Weedon that I was afraid the warm climate would not agree +with an Arctic animal.” + +“He’s trying to speak, I do believe,” Beth announced. + +At this moment speech came to White Fang, rushing up in a great burst +of barking. + +“Something has happened to Weedon,” his wife said decisively. + +They were all on their feet now, and White Fang ran down the steps, +looking back for them to follow. For the second and last time +in his life he had barked and made himself understood. + +After this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the Sierra +Vista people, and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted that +he was a wise dog even if he was a wolf. Judge Scott still held +to the same opinion, and proved it to everybody’s dissatisfaction +by measurements and descriptions taken from the encyclopaedia and various +works on natural history. + +The days came and went, streaming their unbroken sunshine over the +Santa Clara Valley. But as they grew shorter and White Fang’s +second winter in the Southland came on, he made a strange discovery. +Collie’s teeth were no longer sharp. There was a playfulness +about her nips and a gentleness that prevented them from really hurting +him. He forgot that she had made life a burden to him, and when +she disported herself around him he responded solemnly, striving to +be playful and becoming no more than ridiculous. + +One day she led him off on a long chase through the back-pasture +land into the woods. It was the afternoon that the master was +to ride, and White Fang knew it. The horse stood saddled and waiting +at the door. White Fang hesitated. But there was that in +him deeper than all the law he had learned, than the customs that had +moulded him, than his love for the master, than the very will to live +of himself; and when, in the moment of his indecision, Collie nipped +him and scampered off, he turned and followed after. The master +rode alone that day; and in the woods, side by side, White Fang ran +with Collie, as his mother, Kiche, and old One Eye had run long years +before in the silent Northland forest. + +### The Sleeping Wolf + +It was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring +escape of a convict from San Quentin prison. He was a ferocious +man. He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been +born right, and he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received +at the hands of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this +man was a striking sample of its handiwork. He was a beast—a +human beast, it is true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he +can best be characterised as carnivorous. + +In San Quentin prison he had proved incorrigible. Punishment +failed to break his spirit. He could die dumb-mad and fighting +to the last, but he could not live and be beaten. The more fiercely +he fought, the more harshly society handled him, and the only effect +of harshness was to make him fiercer. Strait-jackets, starvation, +and beatings and clubbings were the wrong treatment for Jim Hall; but +it was the treatment he received. It was the treatment he had +received from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a San Francisco +slum—soft clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed +into something. + +It was during Jim Hall’s third term in prison that he encountered +a guard that was almost as great a beast as he. The guard treated +him unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost his credits, persecuted +him. The difference between them was that the guard carried a +bunch of keys and a revolver. Jim Hall had only his naked hands +and his teeth. But he sprang upon the guard one day and used his +teeth on the other’s throat just like any jungle animal. + +After this, Jim Hall went to live in the incorrigible cell. +He lived there three years. The cell was of iron, the floor, the +walls, the roof. He never left this cell. He never saw the +sky nor the sunshine. Day was a twilight and night was a black +silence. He was in an iron tomb, buried alive. He saw no +human face, spoke to no human thing. When his food was shoved +in to him, he growled like a wild animal. He hated all things. +For days and nights he bellowed his rage at the universe. For +weeks and months he never made a sound, in the black silence eating +his very soul. He was a man and a monstrosity, as fearful a thing +of fear as ever gibbered in the visions of a maddened brain. + +And then, one night, he escaped. The warders said it was impossible, +but nevertheless the cell was empty, and half in half out of it lay +the body of a dead guard. Two other dead guards marked his trail +through the prison to the outer walls, and he had killed with his hands +to avoid noise. + +He was armed with the weapons of the slain guards—a live arsenal +that fled through the hills pursued by the organised might of society. +A heavy price of gold was upon his head. Avaricious farmers hunted +him with shot-guns. His blood might pay off a mortgage or send +a son to college. Public-spirited citizens took down their rifles +and went out after him. A pack of bloodhounds followed the way +of his bleeding feet. And the sleuth-hounds of the law, the paid +fighting animals of society, with telephone, and telegraph, and special +train, clung to his trail night and day. + +Sometimes they came upon him, and men faced him like heroes, or stampeded +through barbed-wire fences to the delight of the commonwealth reading +the account at the breakfast table. It was after such encounters +that the dead and wounded were carted back to the towns, and their places +filled by men eager for the man-hunt. + +And then Jim Hall disappeared. The bloodhounds vainly quested +on the lost trail. Inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were +held up by armed men and compelled to identify themselves. While +the remains of Jim Hall were discovered on a dozen mountain-sides by +greedy claimants for blood-money. + +In the meantime the newspapers were read at Sierra Vista, not so +much with interest as with anxiety. The women were afraid. +Judge Scott pooh-poohed and laughed, but not with reason, for it was +in his last days on the bench that Jim Hall had stood before him and +received sentence. And in open court-room, before all men, Jim +Hall had proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak vengeance +on the Judge that sentenced him. + +For once, Jim Hall was right. He was innocent of the crime +for which he was sentenced. It was a case, in the parlance of +thieves and police, of “rail-roading.” Jim Hall was +being “rail-roaded” to prison for a crime he had not committed. +Because of the two prior convictions against him, Judge Scott imposed +upon him a sentence of fifty years. + +Judge Scott did not know all things, and he did not know that he +was party to a police conspiracy, that the evidence was hatched and +perjured, that Jim Hall was guiltless of the crime charged. And +Jim Hall, on the other hand, did not know that Judge Scott was merely +ignorant. Jim Hall believed that the judge knew all about it and +was hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of the monstrous +injustice. So it was, when the doom of fifty years of living death +was uttered by Judge Scott, that Jim Hall, hating all things in the +society that misused him, rose up and raged in the court-room until +dragged down by half a dozen of his blue-coated enemies. To him, +Judge Scott was the keystone in the arch of injustice, and upon Judge +Scott he emptied the vials of his wrath and hurled the threats of his +revenge yet to come. Then Jim Hall went to his living death . +. . and escaped. + +Of all this White Fang knew nothing. But between him and Alice, +the master’s wife, there existed a secret. Each night, after +Sierra Vista had gone to bed, she rose and let in White Fang to sleep +in the big hall. Now White Fang was not a house-dog, nor was he +permitted to sleep in the house; so each morning, early, she slipped +down and let him out before the family was awake. + +On one such night, while all the house slept, White Fang awoke and +lay very quietly. And very quietly he smelled the air and read +the message it bore of a strange god’s presence. And to +his ears came sounds of the strange god’s movements. White +Fang burst into no furious outcry. It was not his way. The +strange god walked softly, but more softly walked White Fang, for he +had no clothes to rub against the flesh of his body. He followed +silently. In the Wild he had hunted live meat that was infinitely +timid, and he knew the advantage of surprise. + +The strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and listened, +and White Fang was as dead, so without movement was he as he watched +and waited. Up that staircase the way led to the love-master and +to the love-master’s dearest possessions. White Fang bristled, +but waited. The strange god’s foot lifted. He was +beginning the ascent. + +Then it was that White Fang struck. He gave no warning, with +no snarl anticipated his own action. Into the air he lifted his +body in the spring that landed him on the strange god’s back. +White Fang clung with his fore-paws to the man’s shoulders, at +the same time burying his fangs into the back of the man’s neck. +He clung on for a moment, long enough to drag the god over backward. +Together they crashed to the floor. White Fang leaped clear, and, +as the man struggled to rise, was in again with the slashing fangs. + +Sierra Vista awoke in alarm. The noise from downstairs was +as that of a score of battling fiends. There were revolver shots. +A man’s voice screamed once in horror and anguish. There +was a great snarling and growling, and over all arose a smashing and +crashing of furniture and glass. + +But almost as quickly as it had arisen, the commotion died away. +The struggle had not lasted more than three minutes. The frightened +household clustered at the top of the stairway. From below, as +from out an abyss of blackness, came up a gurgling sound, as of air +bubbling through water. Sometimes this gurgle became sibilant, +almost a whistle. But this, too, quickly died down and ceased. +Then naught came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of some +creature struggling sorely for air. + +Weedon Scott pressed a button, and the staircase and downstairs hall +were flooded with light. Then he and Judge Scott, revolvers in +hand, cautiously descended. There was no need for this caution. +White Fang had done his work. In the midst of the wreckage of +overthrown and smashed furniture, partly on his side, his face hidden +by an arm, lay a man. Weedon Scott bent over, removed the arm +and turned the man’s face upward. A gaping throat explained +the manner of his death. + +“Jim Hall,” said Judge Scott, and father and son looked +significantly at each other. + +Then they turned to White Fang. He, too, was lying on his side. +His eyes were closed, but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look +at them as they bent over him, and the tail was perceptibly agitated +in a vain effort to wag. Weedon Scott patted him, and his throat +rumbled an acknowledging growl. But it was a weak growl at best, +and it quickly ceased. His eyelids drooped and went shut, and +his whole body seemed to relax and flatten out upon the floor. + +“He’s all in, poor devil,” muttered the master. + +“We’ll see about that,” asserted the Judge, as +he started for the telephone. + +“Frankly, he has one chance in a thousand,” announced +the surgeon, after he had worked an hour and a half on White Fang. + +Dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric lights. +With the exception of the children, the whole family was gathered about +the surgeon to hear his verdict. + +“One broken hind-leg,” he went on. “Three +broken ribs, one at least of which has pierced the lungs. He has +lost nearly all the blood in his body. There is a large likelihood +of internal injuries. He must have been jumped upon. To +say nothing of three bullet holes clear through him. One chance +in a thousand is really optimistic. He hasn’t a chance in +ten thousand.” + +“But he mustn’t lose any chance that might be of help +to him,” Judge Scott exclaimed. “Never mind expense. +Put him under the X-ray—anything. Weedon, telegraph at once +to San Francisco for Doctor Nichols. No reflection on you, doctor, +you understand; but he must have the advantage of every chance.” + +The surgeon smiled indulgently. “Of course I understand. +He deserves all that can be done for him. He must be nursed as +you would nurse a human being, a sick child. And don’t forget +what I told you about temperature. I’ll be back at ten o’clock +again.” + +White Fang received the nursing. Judge Scott’s suggestion +of a trained nurse was indignantly clamoured down by the girls, who +themselves undertook the task. And White Fang won out on the one +chance in ten thousand denied him by the surgeon. + +The latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment. All +his life he had tended and operated on the soft humans of civilisation, +who lived sheltered lives and had descended out of many sheltered generations. +Compared with White Fang, they were frail and flabby, and clutched life +without any strength in their grip. White Fang had come straight +from the Wild, where the weak perish early and shelter is vouchsafed +to none. In neither his father nor his mother was there any weakness, +nor in the generations before them. A constitution of iron and +the vitality of the Wild were White Fang’s inheritance, and he +clung to life, the whole of him and every part of him, in spirit and +in flesh, with the tenacity that of old belonged to all creatures. + +Bound down a prisoner, denied even movement by the plaster casts +and bandages, White Fang lingered out the weeks. He slept long +hours and dreamed much, and through his mind passed an unending pageant +of Northland visions. All the ghosts of the past arose and were +with him. Once again he lived in the lair with Kiche, crept trembling +to the knees of Grey Beaver to tender his allegiance, ran for his life +before Lip-lip and all the howling bedlam of the puppy-pack. + +He ran again through the silence, hunting his living food through +the months of famine; and again he ran at the head of the team, the +gut-whips of Mit-sah and Grey Beaver snapping behind, their voices crying +“Ra! Raa!” when they came to a narrow passage and the team +closed together like a fan to go through. He lived again all his +days with Beauty Smith and the fights he had fought. At such times +he whimpered and snarled in his sleep, and they that looked on said +that his dreams were bad. + +But there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered—the +clanking, clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him colossal +screaming lynxes. He would lie in a screen of bushes, watching +for a squirrel to venture far enough out on the ground from its tree-refuge. +Then, when he sprang out upon it, it would transform itself into an +electric car, menacing and terrible, towering over him like a mountain, +screaming and clanging and spitting fire at him. It was the same +when he challenged the hawk down out of the sky. Down out of the +blue it would rush, as it dropped upon him changing itself into the +ubiquitous electric car. Or again, he would be in the pen of Beauty +Smith. Outside the pen, men would be gathering, and he knew that +a fight was on. He watched the door for his antagonist to enter. +The door would open, and thrust in upon him would come the awful electric +car. A thousand times this occurred, and each time the terror +it inspired was as vivid and great as ever. + +Then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast +were taken off. It was a gala day. All Sierra Vista was +gathered around. The master rubbed his ears, and he crooned his +love-growl. The master’s wife called him the “Blessed +Wolf,” which name was taken up with acclaim and all the women +called him the Blessed Wolf. + +He tried to rise to his feet, and after several attempts fell down +from weakness. He had lain so long that his muscles had lost their +cunning, and all the strength had gone out of them. He felt a +little shame because of his weakness, as though, forsooth, he were failing +the gods in the service he owed them. Because of this he made +heroic efforts to arise and at last he stood on his four legs, tottering +and swaying back and forth. + +“The Blessed Wolf!” chorused the women. + +Judge Scott surveyed them triumphantly. + +“Out of your own mouths be it,” he said. “Just +as I contended right along. No mere dog could have done what he +did. He’s a wolf.” + +“A Blessed Wolf,” amended the Judge’s wife. + +“Yes, Blessed Wolf,” agreed the Judge. “And +henceforth that shall be my name for him.” + +“He’ll have to learn to walk again,” said the surgeon; +“so he might as well start in right now. It won’t +hurt him. Take him outside.” + +And outside he went, like a king, with all Sierra Vista about him +and tending on him. He was very weak, and when he reached the +lawn he lay down and rested for a while. + +Then the procession started on, little spurts of strength coming +into White Fang’s muscles as he used them and the blood began +to surge through them. The stables were reached, and there in +the doorway, lay Collie, a half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her +in the sun. + +White Fang looked on with a wondering eye. Collie snarled warningly +at him, and he was careful to keep his distance. The master with +his toe helped one sprawling puppy toward him. He bristled suspiciously, +but the master warned him that all was well. Collie, clasped in +the arms of one of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl +warned him that all was not well. + +The puppy sprawled in front of him. He cocked his ears and +watched it curiously. Then their noses touched, and he felt the +warm little tongue of the puppy on his jowl. White Fang’s +tongue went out, he knew not why, and he licked the puppy’s face. + +Hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance. +He was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. Then his +weakness asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, his head +on one side, as he watched the puppy. The other puppies came sprawling +toward him, to Collie’s great disgust; and he gravely permitted +them to clamber and tumble over him. At first, amid the applause +of the gods, he betrayed a trifle of his old self-consciousness and +awkwardness. This passed away as the puppies’ antics and +mauling continued, and he lay with half-shut patient eyes, drowsing +in the sun. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81bd289 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.html @@ -0,0 +1,362 @@ + + + + + Content Info + + + + + + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5d2c50 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/contentinfo.md @@ -0,0 +1,357 @@ +--- +title: Content Info +--- + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3800f4e --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.html @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ + + + + + Copyright + + + + +
+
+ + 
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+ 
+Transcribed from the 1915 Methuen and Co edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.
+
+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68371f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/copyright.md @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +--- +title: Copyright +--- + +
+
+ + +
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+ +
+Transcribed from the 1915 Methuen and Co edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.
+
+ +
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a23f7d --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.html @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ + + + + + Cover + + + + +
+

White Fang

+
By Jack London
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e40de3f --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/cover.md @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +--- +title: Cover +--- + +
+

White Fang

+
By Jack London
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f37467 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.html @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ + + + + + Content + + + + + + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a9f8ed --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/fang/toc.md @@ -0,0 +1,45 @@ +--- +title: Content +--- + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..59749ea --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.html @@ -0,0 +1,1100 @@ + + + + + A Scandal in Bohemia + + + + +
+

A Scandal in Bohemia

+
+

+

+ To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom + heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses + and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any + emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one + particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably + balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and + observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would + have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer + passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for + the observer—excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and + actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into + his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a + distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental + results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own + high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion + in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and + that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable + memory. +

+

+ I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away + from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred + interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master + of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, + while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole + Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among + his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and + ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own + keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of + crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of + observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those + mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. + From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his + summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing + up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, + and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and + successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of + his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of + the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. +

+

+ One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from + a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), + when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the + well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with + my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was + seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was + employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, + and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a + dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, + eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped + behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and + manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of + his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new + problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had + formerly been in part my own. +

+

+ His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, + to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved + me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a + spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the + fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion. +

+

+ “Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put + on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.” +

+

“Seven!” I answered.

+

+ “Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I + fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me + that you intended to go into harness.” +

+

“Then, how do you know?”

+

+ “I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting + yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless + servant girl?” +

+

+ “My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have + been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had + a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I + have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary + Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but + there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.” +

+

+ He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. +

+

+ “It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the + inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the + leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have + been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges + of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my + double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you + had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London + slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms + smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his + right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show + where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do + not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession.” +

+

+ I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his + process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I remarked, + “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I + could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your + reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I + believe that my eyes are as good as yours.” +

+

+ “Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself + down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. The + distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps + which lead up from the hall to this room.” +

+

“Frequently.”

+

“How often?”

+

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

+

“Then how many are there?”

+

“How many? I don’t know.”

+

+ “Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just + my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have + both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these + little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two + of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.” He threw + over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open + upon the table. “It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.” +

+

The note was undated, and without either signature or address.

+

+ “There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o’clock,” it + said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the + very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses + of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with + matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. + This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your + chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor + wear a mask.” +

+

+ “This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that it + means?” +

+

+ “I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one + has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, + instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you + deduce from it?” +

+

+ I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was + written. +

+

+ “The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, + endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper could + not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and + stiff.” +

+

+ “Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an English + paper at all. Hold it up to the light.” +

+

+ I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a large “G” + with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. +

+

“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes.

+

“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.”

+

+ “Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for ‘Gesellschaft,’ + which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a customary contraction like + our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for ‘Papier.’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let + us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.” He took down a heavy brown + volume from his shelves. “Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in + a German-speaking country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. + ‘Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for + its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do + you make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue + triumphant cloud from his cigarette. +

+

“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.

+

+ “Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note + the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have + from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have + written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It + only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who + writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his + face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our + doubts.” +

+

+ As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and grating + wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes + whistled. +

+

+ “A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out of + the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred + and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case, Watson, if there + is nothing else.” +

+

“I think that I had better go, Holmes.”

+

+ “Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. + And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.” +

+

“But your client—”

+

+ “Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. + Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention.” +

+

+ A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the + passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud + and authoritative tap. +

+

“Come in!” said Holmes.

+

+ A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches + in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich + with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad + taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and + fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which + was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and + secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming + beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were + trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of + barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He + carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the + upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black + vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for + his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of + the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, + hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed + to the length of obstinacy. +

+

+ “You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly + marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He looked from + one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. +

+

+ “Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and colleague, Dr. + Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom + have I the honour to address?” +

+

+ “You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I + understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and + discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme + importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you + alone.” +

+

+ I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back + into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before + this gentleman anything which you may say to me.” +

+

+ The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said he, + “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of + that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not + too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence + upon European history.” +

+

“I promise,” said Holmes.

+

“And I.”

+

+ “You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The + august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, + and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called + myself is not exactly my own.” +

+

“I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly.

+

+ “The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to + be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and + seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak + plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary + kings of Bohemia.” +

+

+ “I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself down in + his armchair and closing his eyes. +

+

+ Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, + lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as + the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes + slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic + client. +

+

+ “If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he remarked, “I + should be better able to advise you.” +

+

+ The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in + uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore + the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You are right,” + he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?” +

+

+ “Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken before I + was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von + Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of + Bohemia.” +

+

+ “But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down once + more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you can + understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own + person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to + an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come + incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.” +

+

“Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more.

+

+ “The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy + visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known + adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.” +

+

+ “Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without + opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing + all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to + name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish + information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between + that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a + monograph upon the deep-sea fishes. +

+

“Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year

+
    +
  1. + Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of + Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in London—quite + so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young + person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of + getting those letters back.” +
    2. +
+

“Precisely so. But how—”

+

“Was there a secret marriage?”

+

“None.”

+

“No legal papers or certificates?”

+

“None.”

+

+ “Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should + produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to + prove their authenticity?” +

+

“There is the writing.”

+

“Pooh, pooh! Forgery.”

+

“My private note-paper.”

+

“Stolen.”

+

“My own seal.”

+

“Imitated.”

+

“My photograph.”

+

“Bought.”

+

“We were both in the photograph.”

+

+ “Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an + indiscretion.” +

+

“I was mad—insane.”

+

“You have compromised yourself seriously.”

+

“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.”

+

“It must be recovered.”

+

“We have tried and failed.”

+

“Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.”

+

“She will not sell.”

+

“Stolen, then.”

+

+ “Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her + house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has + been waylaid. There has been no result.” +

+

“No sign of it?”

+

“Absolutely none.”

+

Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he.

+

“But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully.

+

+ “Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?” +

+

“To ruin me.”

+

“But how?”

+

“I am about to be married.”

+

“So I have heard.”

+

+ “To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of + Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is + herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my + conduct would bring the matter to an end.” +

+

“And Irene Adler?”

+

+ “Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know + that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. + She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the + most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there + are no lengths to which she would not go—none.” +

+

“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?”

+

“I am sure.”

+

“And why?”

+

+ “Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the + betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.” +

+

+ “Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That is + very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look + into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for + the present?” +

+

+ “Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the + Count Von Kramm.” +

+

“Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.”

+

“Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.”

+

“Then, as to money?”

+

“You have carte blanche.”

+

“Absolutely?”

+

+ “I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to + have that photograph.” +

+

“And for present expenses?”

+

+ The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and + laid it on the table. +

+

+ “There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes,” + he said. +

+

+ Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it + to him. +

+

“And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked.

+

“Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.”

+

+ Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the + photograph a cabinet?” +

+

“It was.”

+

+ “Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have + some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, as the + wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If you will be + good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o’clock I should like + to chat this little matter over with you.” +

+
+
+

+

+ At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not + yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house + shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down beside the + fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he + might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though + it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were + associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, + the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a + character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the + investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his + masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which + made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow + the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most + inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success + that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my + head. +

+

+ It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking + groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and + disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my + friend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three + times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he + vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes + tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his + pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed + heartily for some minutes. +

+

+ “Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until + he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. +

+

“What is it?”

+

+ “It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed + my morning, or what I ended by doing.” +

+

+ “I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, + and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” +

+

+ “Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, + however. I left the house a little after eight o’clock this morning in + the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy + and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know + all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a + bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in + front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large + sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows + almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners + which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save + that the passage window could be reached from the top of the + coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every + point of view, but without noting anything else of interest. +

+

+ “I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there + was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent + the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in + exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag + tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, + to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in + whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was + compelled to listen to.” +

+

“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked.

+

+ “Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is the + daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the + Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, + drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. + Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one + male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and + dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a + Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a + cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from + Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all + they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once + more, and to think over my plan of campaign. +

+

+ “This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. + He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between + them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, + his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably + transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less + likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should + continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the + gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it + widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these + details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are + to understand the situation.” +

+

“I am following you closely,” I answered.

+

+ “I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove + up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably + handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently the man of whom + I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman + to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of + a man who was thoroughly at home. +

+

+ “He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of + him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking + excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently + he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up + to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it + earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he shouted, ‘first to Gross & + Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the + Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!’ +

+

+ “Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well + to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the + coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, + while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It + hadn’t pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I + only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely + woman, with a face that a man might die for. +

+

+ “ ‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a sovereign + if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ +

+

+ “This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether + I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when + a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a + shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. ‘The Church of + St. Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty + minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was + clear enough what was in the wind. +

+

+ “My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the + others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their + steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the + man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the + two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be + expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in + front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler + who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at + the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard + as he could towards me. +

+

“ ‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’

+

“ ‘What then?’ I asked.

+

“ ‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’

+

+ “I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I + found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and + vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting + in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, + bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman + thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the + clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position + in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it + that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some + informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused + to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky + appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the + streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I + mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion.” +

+

+ “This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what then?” +

+

+ “Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the + pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt + and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they + separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. ‘I + shall drive out in the park at five as usual,’ she said as she left + him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I + went off to make my own arrangements.” +

+

“Which are?”

+

+ “Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the bell. + “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier + still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your + co-operation.” +

+

“I shall be delighted.”

+

“You don’t mind breaking the law?”

+

“Not in the least.”

+

“Nor running a chance of arrest?”

+

“Not in a good cause.”

+

“Oh, the cause is excellent!”

+

“Then I am your man.”

+

“I was sure that I might rely on you.”

+

“But what is it you wish?”

+

+ “When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. + Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our + landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not + much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene + of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at + seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” +

+

“And what then?”

+

+ “You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. + There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not + interfere, come what may. You understand?” +

+

“I am to be neutral?”

+

+ “To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small + unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed + into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room + window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open + window.” +

+

“Yes.”

+

“You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.”

+

“Yes.”

+

+ “And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what I give + you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You + quite follow me?” +

+

“Entirely.”

+

+ “It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped + roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, + fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is + confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up + by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the + street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made + myself clear?” +

+

+ “I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at + the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and + to wait you at the corner of the street.” +

+

“Precisely.”

+

“Then you may entirely rely on me.”

+

+ “That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare + for the new role I have to play.” +

+

+ He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the + character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His + broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic + smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such + as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that + Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul + seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a + fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a + specialist in crime. +

+

+ It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still + wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine + Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as + we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming + of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from + Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, but the locality appeared to be + less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a + quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of + shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a + scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with + a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up + and down with cigars in their mouths. +

+

+ “You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the + house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph + becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be + as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to + its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are + we to find the photograph?” +

+

“Where, indeed?”

+

+ “It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet + size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s dress. She knows + that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two + attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, + that she does not carry it about with her.” +

+

“Where, then?”

+

+ “Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am + inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they + like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone + else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell + what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a + business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within + a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be + in her own house.” +

+

“But it has twice been burgled.”

+

“Pshaw! They did not know how to look.”

+

“But how will you look?”

+

“I will not look.”

+

“What then?”

+

“I will get her to show me.”

+

“But she will refuse.”

+

+ “She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her + carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” +

+

+ As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round the + curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to + the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at + the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a + copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with + the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by + the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the + scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was + struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, + was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who + struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes + dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached + her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running + freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in + one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better + dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, + crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene + Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she + stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of + the hall, looking back into the street. +

+

“Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked.

+

“He is dead,” cried several voices.

+

+ “No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be gone + before you can get him to hospital.” +

+

+ “He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the lady’s + purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a gang, and a + rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.” +

+

“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?”

+

+ “Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. + This way, please!” +

+

+ Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the + principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by + the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, + so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know + whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he + was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of + myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom + I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited + upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to + Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I + hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. + After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing + her from injuring another. +

+

+ Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who + is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At + the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed + my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The word was no sooner + out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and + ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids—joined in a general shriek + of “Fire!” Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at + the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment + later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a + false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the + corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my + friend’s arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He + walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned + down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. +

+

+ “You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have + been better. It is all right.” +

+

“You have the photograph?”

+

“I know where it is.”

+

“And how did you find out?”

+

“She showed me, as I told you she would.”

+

“I am still in the dark.”

+

+ “I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter was + perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was + an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” +

+

“I guessed as much.”

+

+ “Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the + palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my + face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” +

+

“That also I could fathom.”

+

+ “Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could + she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I + suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined + to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were + compelled to open the window, and you had your chance.” +

+

“How did that help you?”

+

+ “It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, + her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It + is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken + advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it + was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married + woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. + Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the + house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would + rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and + shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded + beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just + above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a + glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried out that it was a + false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the + room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, + escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the + photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was + watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little + over-precipitance may ruin all.” +

+

“And now?” I asked.

+

+ “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King + to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown + into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that + when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be + a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands.” +

+

“And when will you call?”

+

+ “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a + clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a + complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King + without delay.” +

+

+ We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was + searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: +

+

“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”

+

+ There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the + greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had + hurried by. +

+

+ “I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly + lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.” +

+
+
+

+

+ I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast + and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the + room. +

+

+ “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either + shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. +

+

“Not yet.”

+

“But you have hopes?”

+

“I have hopes.”

+

“Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.”

+

“We must have a cab.”

+

“No, my brougham is waiting.”

+

+ “Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off once + more for Briony Lodge. +

+

“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes.

+

“Married! When?”

+

“Yesterday.”

+

“But to whom?”

+

“To an English lawyer named Norton.”

+

“But she could not love him.”

+

“I am in hopes that she does.”

+

“And why in hopes?”

+

+ “Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If + the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she + does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should + interfere with your Majesty’s plan.” +

+

+ “It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own station! + What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody silence, + which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. +

+

+ The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the + steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the + brougham. +

+

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she.

+

+ “I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a + questioning and rather startled gaze. +

+

+ “Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left + this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for + the Continent.” +

+

+ “What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and + surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?” +

+

“Never to return.”

+

“And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.”

+

+ “We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the + drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was + scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open + drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her + flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding + shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a + letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, + the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till + called for.” My friend tore it open, and we all three read it + together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in + this way: +

+
+

+ MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You took + me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a + suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began + to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told + that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly be you. And + your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me + reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I + found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, + you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is + nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it + gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got + into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you + departed. +

+

+ Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was + really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. + Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for + the Temple to see my husband. +

+

+ We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so + formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you + call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. + I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he + will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep + it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will + always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I + leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, + dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, +

+
+

+ “Very truly yours, “IRENE NORTON, née ADLER.” +

+

+ “What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when we + had all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick and + resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it + not a pity that she was not on my level?” +

+

+ “From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very + different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am sorry that + I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business to a more + successful conclusion.” +

+

+ “On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be more + successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now + as safe as if it were in the fire.” +

+

“I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.”

+

+ “I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward + you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and + held it out upon the palm of his hand. +

+

+ “Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly,” + said Holmes. +

+

“You have but to name it.”

+

“This photograph!”

+

The King stared at him in amazement.

+

“Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.”

+

+ “I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. + I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He bowed, and, + turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched + out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. +

+
+

+ And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of + Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by + a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but + I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, + or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable + title of the woman. +

+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a507b32 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch01.md @@ -0,0 +1,1134 @@ +--- +title: A Scandal in Bohemia +class: part +--- + +## A Scandal in Bohemia + +### + +To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard +him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses +and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt +any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that +one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but +admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect +reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a +lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never +spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They +were admirable things for the observer—excellent for drawing the +veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner +to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely +adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which +might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a +sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power +lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a +nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and +that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable +memory. + +I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us +away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the +home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first +finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to +absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of +society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in +Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from +week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the +drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, +as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his +immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in +following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which +had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time +to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons +to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up +of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, +and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so +delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. +Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely +shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of +my former friend and companion. + +One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was +returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to +civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I +passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated +in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the +Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes +again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. +His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw +his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against +the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head +sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who +knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their +own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his +drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new +problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which +had formerly been in part my own. + +His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I +think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly +eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, +and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he +stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular +introspective fashion. + +“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have +put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.” + +“Seven!” I answered. + +“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, +I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not +tell me that you intended to go into harness.” + +“Then, how do you know?” + +“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting +yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and +careless servant girl?” + +“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly +have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true +that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful +mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can’t imagine how you +deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has +given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it +out.” + +He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands +together. + +“It is simplicity itself,” said he; “my eyes tell me that on the +inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, +the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they +have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round +the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. +Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile +weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting +specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a +gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black +mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge +on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted +his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce +him to be an active member of the medical profession.” + +I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his +process of deduction. “When I hear you give your reasons,” I +remarked, “the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously +simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each +successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you +explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good +as yours.” + +“Quite so,” he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing +himself down into an armchair. “You see, but you do not observe. +The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen +the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.” + +“Frequently.” + +“How often?” + +“Well, some hundreds of times.” + +“Then how many are there?” + +“How many? I don’t know.” + +“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is +just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, +because I have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are +interested in these little problems, and since you are good +enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you +may be interested in this.” He threw over a sheet of thick, +pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open upon the table. +“It came by the last post,” said he. “Read it aloud.” + +The note was undated, and without either signature or address. + +“There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight +o’clock,” it said, “a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a +matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of +the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may +safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which +can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all +quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do +not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.” + +“This is indeed a mystery,” I remarked. “What do you imagine that +it means?” + +“I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before +one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit +theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. +What do you deduce from it?” + +I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was +written. + +“The man who wrote it was presumably well to do,” I remarked, +endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. “Such paper +could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly +strong and stiff.” + +“Peculiar—that is the very word,” said Holmes. “It is not an +English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.” + +I did so, and saw a large “E” with a small “g,” a “P,” and a +large “G” with a small “t” woven into the texture of the paper. + +“What do you make of that?” asked Holmes. + +“The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather.” + +“Not at all. The ‘G’ with the small ‘t’ stands for +‘Gesellschaft,’ which is the German for ‘Company.’ It is a +customary contraction like our ‘Co.’ ‘P,’ of course, stands for +‘Papier.’ Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let us glance at our Continental +Gazetteer.” He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. +“Eglow, Eglonitz—here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking +country—in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. ‘Remarkable as being +the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous +glass-factories and paper-mills.’ Ha, ha, my boy, what do you +make of that?” His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue +triumphant cloud from his cigarette. + +“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said. + +“Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you +note the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of +you we have from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian +could not have written that. It is the German who is so +uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover +what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and +prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if +I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts.” + +As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and +grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the +bell. Holmes whistled. + +“A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing +out of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of +beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in +this case, Watson, if there is nothing else.” + +“I think that I had better go, Holmes.” + +“Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my +Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity +to miss it.” + +“But your client—” + +“Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he +comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best +attention.” + +A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and +in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there +was a loud and authoritative tap. + +“Come in!” said Holmes. + +A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six +inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His +dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked +upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed +across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while +the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined +with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch +which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended +halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with +rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence +which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a +broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper +part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black +vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, +for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower +part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, +with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive +of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. + +“You had my note?” he asked with a deep harsh voice and a +strongly marked German accent. “I told you that I would call.” He +looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to +address. + +“Pray take a seat,” said Holmes. “This is my friend and +colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me +in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?” + +“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. +I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour +and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most +extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate +with you alone.” + +I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me +back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say +before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.” + +The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then I must begin,” said +he, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at +the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At +present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it +may have an influence upon European history.” + +“I promise,” said Holmes. + +“And I.” + +“You will excuse this mask,” continued our strange visitor. “The +august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to +you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have +just called myself is not exactly my own.” + +“I was aware of it,” said Holmes dryly. + +“The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution +has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense +scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of +Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House +of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia.” + +“I was also aware of that,” murmured Holmes, settling himself +down in his armchair and closing his eyes. + +Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, +lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him +as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. +Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his +gigantic client. + +“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” he +remarked, “I should be better able to advise you.” + +The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in +uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he +tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. “You +are right,” he cried; “I am the King. Why should I attempt to +conceal it?” + +“Why, indeed?” murmured Holmes. “Your Majesty had not spoken +before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich +Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and +hereditary King of Bohemia.” + +“But you can understand,” said our strange visitor, sitting down +once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, “you +can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in +my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not +confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I +have come _incognito_ from Prague for the purpose of consulting +you.” + +“Then, pray consult,” said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. + +“The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a +lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known +adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.” + +“Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,” murmured Holmes without +opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of +docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it +was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not +at once furnish information. In this case I found her biography +sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a +staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea +fishes. + +“Let me see!” said Holmes. “Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year + +1858. Contralto—hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera + of Warsaw—yes! Retired from operatic stage—ha! Living in + London—quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled + with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and + is now desirous of getting those letters back.” + +“Precisely so. But how—” + +“Was there a secret marriage?” + +“None.” + +“No legal papers or certificates?” + +“None.” + +“Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should +produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is +she to prove their authenticity?” + +“There is the writing.” + +“Pooh, pooh! Forgery.” + +“My private note-paper.” + +“Stolen.” + +“My own seal.” + +“Imitated.” + +“My photograph.” + +“Bought.” + +“We were both in the photograph.” + +“Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an +indiscretion.” + +“I was mad—insane.” + +“You have compromised yourself seriously.” + +“I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now.” + +“It must be recovered.” + +“We have tried and failed.” + +“Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought.” + +“She will not sell.” + +“Stolen, then.” + +“Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked +her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice +she has been waylaid. There has been no result.” + +“No sign of it?” + +“Absolutely none.” + +Holmes laughed. “It is quite a pretty little problem,” said he. + +“But a very serious one to me,” returned the King reproachfully. + +“Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the +photograph?” + +“To ruin me.” + +“But how?” + +“I am about to be married.” + +“So I have heard.” + +“To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the +King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her +family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a +doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end.” + +“And Irene Adler?” + +“Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I +know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul +of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and +the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry +another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not +go—none.” + +“You are sure that she has not sent it yet?” + +“I am sure.” + +“And why?” + +“Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the +betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.” + +“Oh, then we have three days yet,” said Holmes with a yawn. “That +is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to +look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in +London for the present?” + +“Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the +Count Von Kramm.” + +“Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress.” + +“Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety.” + +“Then, as to money?” + +“You have _carte blanche_.” + +“Absolutely?” + +“I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom +to have that photograph.” + +“And for present expenses?” + +The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak +and laid it on the table. + +“There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in +notes,” he said. + +Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and +handed it to him. + +“And Mademoiselle’s address?” he asked. + +“Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John’s Wood.” + +Holmes took a note of it. “One other question,” said he. “Was the +photograph a cabinet?” + +“It was.” + +“Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon +have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson,” he added, +as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. “If +you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three +o’clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you.” + +### + +At three o’clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had +not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the +house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. I sat down +beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, +however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his +inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and +strange features which were associated with the two crimes which +I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the +exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. +Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my +friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of +a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a +pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the +quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most +inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable +success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to +enter into my head. + +It was close upon four before the door opened, and a +drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an +inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. +Accustomed as I was to my friend’s amazing powers in the use of +disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it +was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he +emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. +Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in +front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. + +“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again +until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the +chair. + +“What is it?” + +“It’s quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I +employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.” + +“I can’t imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the +habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.” + +“Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, +however. I left the house a little after eight o’clock this +morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a +wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of +them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found +Briony Lodge. It is a _bijou_ villa, with a garden at the back, but +built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock +to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well +furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those +preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. +Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window +could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round +it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without +noting anything else of interest. + +“I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that +there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the +garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, +and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two +fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire +about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in +the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but +whose biographies I was compelled to listen to.” + +“And what of Irene Adler?” I asked. + +“Oh, she has turned all the men’s heads down in that part. She is +the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the +Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, +drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for +dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. +Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, +handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and +often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See +the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him +home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. +When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up +and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan +of campaign. + +“This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the +matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the +relation between them, and what the object of his repeated +visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the +former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his +keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this +question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony +Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman’s chambers in the +Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my +inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to +let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the +situation.” + +“I am following you closely,” I answered. + +“I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab +drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a +remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached—evidently +the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a +great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the +maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly +at home. + +“He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch +glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and +down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see +nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than +before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from +his pocket and looked at it earnestly, ‘Drive like the devil,’ he +shouted, ‘first to Gross & Hankey’s in Regent Street, and then to +the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if +you do it in twenty minutes!’ + +“Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do +well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, +the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under +his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of +the buckles. It hadn’t pulled up before she shot out of the hall +door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, +but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. + +“ ‘The Church of St. Monica, John,’ she cried, ‘and half a +sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ + +“This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing +whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her +landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked +twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could +object. ‘The Church of St. Monica,’ said I, ‘and half a sovereign +if you reach it in twenty minutes.’ It was twenty-five minutes to +twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. + +“My cabby drove fast. I don’t think I ever drove faster, but the +others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their +steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid +the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there +save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who +seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three +standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side +aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. +Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to +me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards +me. + +“ ‘Thank God,’ he cried. ‘You’ll do. Come! Come!’ + +“ ‘What then?’ I asked. + +“ ‘Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won’t be legal.’ + +“I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was +I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, +and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally +assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to +Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and +there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady +on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was +the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my +life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just +now. It seems that there had been some informality about their +license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them +without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance +saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in +search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean +to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion.” + +“This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,” said I; “and what +then?” + +“Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if +the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate +very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church +door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and +she to her own house. ‘I shall drive out in the park at five as +usual,’ she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove +away in different directions, and I went off to make my own +arrangements.” + +“Which are?” + +“Some cold beef and a glass of beer,” he answered, ringing the +bell. “I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to +be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want +your co-operation.” + +“I shall be delighted.” + +“You don’t mind breaking the law?” + +“Not in the least.” + +“Nor running a chance of arrest?” + +“Not in a good cause.” + +“Oh, the cause is excellent!” + +“Then I am your man.” + +“I was sure that I might rely on you.” + +“But what is it you wish?” + +“When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to +you. Now,” he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that +our landlady had provided, “I must discuss it while I eat, for I +have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must +be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns +from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her.” + +“And what then?” + +“You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to +occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must +not interfere, come what may. You understand?” + +“I am to be neutral?” + +“To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small +unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being +conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the +sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close +to that open window.” + +“Yes.” + +“You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you.” + +“Yes.” + +“And when I raise my hand—so—you will throw into the room what +I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of +fire. You quite follow me?” + +“Entirely.” + +“It is nothing very formidable,” he said, taking a long cigar-shaped +roll from his pocket. “It is an ordinary plumber’s smoke-rocket, +fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. +Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, +it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then +walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten +minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?” + +“I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, +and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry +of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street.” + +“Precisely.” + +“Then you may entirely rely on me.” + +“That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I +prepare for the new role I have to play.” + +He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in +the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist +clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white +tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and +benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have +equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His +expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every +fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as +science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in +crime. + +It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still +wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in +Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just +being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, +waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such +as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes’ succinct description, +but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On +the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was +remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men +smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his +wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and +several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with +cigars in their mouths. + +“You see,” remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of +the house, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. The +photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are +that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey +Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his +princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the +photograph?” + +“Where, indeed?” + +“It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is +cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman’s +dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid +and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We +may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her.” + +“Where, then?” + +“Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But +I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, +and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it +over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but +she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be +brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she +had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she +can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house.” + +“But it has twice been burgled.” + +“Pshaw! They did not know how to look.” + +“But how will you look?” + +“I will not look.” + +“What then?” + +“I will get her to show me.” + +“But she will refuse.” + +“She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is +her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter.” + +As he spoke the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round +the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which +rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of +the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in +the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another +loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce +quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who +took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, +who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and +in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was +the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who +struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes +dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached +her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood +running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to +their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while +a number of better dressed people, who had watched the scuffle +without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to +attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, +had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her +superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking +back into the street. + +“Is the poor gentleman much hurt?” she asked. + +“He is dead,” cried several voices. + +“No, no, there’s life in him!” shouted another. “But he’ll be +gone before you can get him to hospital.” + +“He’s a brave fellow,” said a woman. “They would have had the +lady’s purse and watch if it hadn’t been for him. They were a +gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he’s breathing now.” + +“He can’t lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?” + +“Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable +sofa. This way, please!” + +Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out +in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings +from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the +blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay +upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with +compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I +know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life +than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was +conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited +upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery +to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted +to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under +my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are +but preventing her from injuring another. + +Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man +who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the +window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the +signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of “Fire!” The +word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of +spectators, well dressed and ill—gentlemen, ostlers, and +servant maids—joined in a general shriek of “Fire!” Thick clouds +of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I +caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice +of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. +Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner +of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my +friend’s arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. +He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we +had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the +Edgeware Road. + +“You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could +have been better. It is all right.” + +“You have the photograph?” + +“I know where it is.” + +“And how did you find out?” + +“She showed me, as I told you she would.” + +“I am still in the dark.” + +“I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter +was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the +street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.” + +“I guessed as much.” + +“Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in +the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand +to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.” + +“That also I could fathom.” + +“Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else +could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room +which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was +determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for +air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your +chance.” + +“How did that help you?” + +“It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on +fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she +values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have +more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the +Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in +the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; +an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to +me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious +to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. +The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were +enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The +photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the +right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a +glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried out that it +was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed +from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making +my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to +attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had +come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to +wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all.” + +“And now?” I asked. + +“Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King +to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be +shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is +probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the +photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain +it with his own hands.” + +“And when will you call?” + +“At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall +have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage +may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to +the King without delay.” + +We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was +searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: + +“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” + +There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the +greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had +hurried by. + +“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the +dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have +been.” + +### + +I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our +toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed +into the room. + +“You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by +either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. + +“Not yet.” + +“But you have hopes?” + +“I have hopes.” + +“Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.” + +“We must have a cab.” + +“No, my brougham is waiting.” + +“Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and started off +once more for Briony Lodge. + +“Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes. + +“Married! When?” + +“Yesterday.” + +“But to whom?” + +“To an English lawyer named Norton.” + +“But she could not love him.” + +“I am in hopes that she does.” + +“And why in hopes?” + +“Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future +annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your +Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason +why she should interfere with your Majesty’s plan.” + +“It is true. And yet—! Well! I wish she had been of my own +station! What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a +moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in +Serpentine Avenue. + +The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood +upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped +from the brougham. + +“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?” said she. + +“I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking at her with a +questioning and rather startled gaze. + +“Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She +left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing +Cross for the Continent.” + +“What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and +surprise. “Do you mean that she has left England?” + +“Never to return.” + +“And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.” + +“We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the +drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was +scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and +open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before +her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small +sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a +photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler +herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to +“Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My friend +tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at +midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: + +> MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,—You really did it very well. You +> took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a +> suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I +> began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had +> been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly +> be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, +> you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became +> suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind +> old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress +> myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage +> of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to +> watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call +> them, and came down just as you departed. +> +> Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was +> really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock +> Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and +> started for the Temple to see my husband. +> +> We both thought the +> best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an +> antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call +> to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I +> love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what +> he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I +> keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which +> will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the +> future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and +> I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, + +“Very truly yours, +“IRENE NORTON, née ADLER.” + +“What a woman—oh, what a woman!” cried the King of Bohemia, when +we had all three read this epistle. “Did I not tell you how quick +and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? +Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?” + +“From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a +very different level to your Majesty,” said Holmes coldly. “I am +sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty’s business +to a more successful conclusion.” + +“On the contrary, my dear sir,” cried the King; “nothing could be +more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The +photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire.” + +“I am glad to hear your Majesty say so.” + +“I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can +reward you. This ring—” He slipped an emerald snake ring from +his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. + +“Your Majesty has something which I should value even more +highly,” said Holmes. + +“You have but to name it.” + +“This photograph!” + +The King stared at him in amazement. + +“Irene’s photograph!” he cried. “Certainly, if you wish it.” + +“I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the +matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning.” He +bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the +King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his +chambers. + +
+ +And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom +of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were +beaten by a woman’s wit. He used to make merry over the +cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And +when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her +photograph, it is always under the honourable title of _the_ woman. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f193621 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.html @@ -0,0 +1,1140 @@ + + + + + The Red-Headed League + + + + +
+

The Red-Headed League

+

+ I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn + of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, + florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an apology for + my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly + into the room and closed the door behind me. +

+

+ “You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson,” he + said cordially. +

+

“I was afraid that you were engaged.”

+

“So I am. Very much so.”

+

“Then I can wait in the next room.”

+

+ “Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper + in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be + of the utmost use to me in yours also.” +

+

+ The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, + with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled + eyes. +

+

+ “Try the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting + his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. “I + know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and + outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You have + shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to + chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish + so many of my own little adventures.” +

+

+ “Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me,” I + observed. +

+

+ “You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went + into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for + strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life + itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the + imagination.” +

+

“A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting.”

+

+ “You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, for + otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason + breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, Mr. Jabez + Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and to + begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I + have listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that the + strangest and most unique things are very often connected not with the + larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where + there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. + As far as I have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the + present case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is + certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, + Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your + narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not + heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story + makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a + rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, + I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which + occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that + the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.” +

+

+ The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some little + pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket + of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his + head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a + good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, + to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or + appearance. +

+

+ I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore + every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, + pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd’s check trousers, + a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab + waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of + metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown + overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. + Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man + save his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and + discontent upon his features. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head + with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. “Beyond the obvious + facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, + that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done + a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.” +

+

+ Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the + paper, but his eyes upon my companion. +

+

+ “How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?” + he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. It’s + as true as gospel, for I began as a ship’s carpenter.” +

+

+ “Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than + your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed.” +

+

“Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?”

+

+ “I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, + especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an + arc-and-compass breastpin.” +

+

“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?”

+

+ “What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five + inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you + rest it upon the desk?” +

+

“Well, but China?”

+

+ “The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist + could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo + marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That + trick of staining the fishes’ scales of a delicate pink is quite + peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from + your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple.” +

+

+ Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I thought + at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was + nothing in it after all.” +

+

+ “I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake in + explaining. ‘Omne ignotum pro magnifico,’ you know, and my poor + little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so + candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?” +

+

+ “Yes, I have got it now,” he answered with his thick red finger planted + halfway down the column. “Here it is. This is what began it all. You + just read it for yourself, sir.” +

+

I took the paper from him and read as follows:

+

+ “TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah + Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another + vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of £4 a + week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in + body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply + in person on Monday, at eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices + of the League, 7 Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.” +

+

+ “What on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated after I had twice read over + the extraordinary announcement. +

+

+ Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high + spirits. “It is a little off the beaten track, isn’t it?” said he. “And + now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself, + your household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon your + fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the + date.” +

+

+ “It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months + ago.” +

+

“Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?”

+

+ “Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said + Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; “I have a small pawnbroker’s + business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not a very large affair, + and of late years it has not done more than just give me a living. I + used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I + would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half + wages so as to learn the business.” +

+

“What is the name of this obliging youth?” asked Sherlock Holmes.

+

+ “His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he’s not such a youth, either. It’s + hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; + and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I + am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I + put ideas in his head?” +

+

+ “Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes + under the full market price. It is not a common experience among + employers in this age. I don’t know that your assistant is not as + remarkable as your advertisement.” +

+

+ “Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never was such a fellow + for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to be + improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit + into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but on + the whole he’s a good worker. There’s no vice in him.” +

+

“He is still with you, I presume?”

+

+ “Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking + and keeps the place clean—that’s all I have in the house, for I am a + widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three + of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do + nothing more. +

+

+ “The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, he + came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very + paper in his hand, and he says: +

+

“ ‘I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.’

+

“ ‘Why that?’ I asks.

+

+ “ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘here’s another vacancy on the League of the + Red-headed Men. It’s worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets + it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, + so that the trustees are at their wits’ end what to do with the money. + If my hair would only change colour, here’s a nice little crib all ready + for me to step into.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Why, what is it, then?’ I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very + stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my having to + go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the + door-mat. In that way I didn’t know much of what was going on outside, + and I was always glad of a bit of news. +

+

+ “ ‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?’ he asked + with his eyes open. +

+

“ ‘Never.’

+

+ “ ‘Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the + vacancies.’ +

+

“ ‘And what are they worth?’ I asked.

+

+ “ ‘Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and it + need not interfere very much with one’s other occupations.’ +

+

+ “Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the + business has not been over good for some years, and an extra couple of + hundred would have been very handy. +

+

“ ‘Tell me all about it,’ said I.

+

+ “ ‘Well,’ said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you can see for + yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where + you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League + was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very + peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great + sympathy for all red-headed men; so, when he died, it was found that he + had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with + instructions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to + men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and + very little to do.’ +

+

+ “ ‘But,’ said I, ‘there would be millions of red-headed men who would + apply.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Not so many as you might think,’ he answered. ‘You see it is really + confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started from + London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good turn. + Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is + light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red. + Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; but + perhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the + way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.’ +

+

+ “Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my + hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if + there was to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance + as any man that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much + about it that I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to + put up the shutters for the day and to come right away with me. He was + very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started + off for the address that was given us in the advertisement. +

+

+ “I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, + south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had + tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was + choked with red-headed folk, and Pope’s Court looked like a coster’s + orange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole + country as were brought together by that single advertisement. Every + shade of colour they were—straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, + liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the + real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I + would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. + How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted + until he got me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led + to the office. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up + in hope, and some coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we + could and soon found ourselves in the office.” +

+

+ “Your experience has been a most entertaining one,” remarked Holmes as + his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. + “Pray continue your very interesting statement.” +

+

+ “There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a + deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even + redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, + and then he always managed to find some fault in them which would + disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy + matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much + more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door + as we entered, so that he might have a private word with us. +

+

+ “ ‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, ‘and he is willing to + fill a vacancy in the League.’ +

+

+ “ ‘And he is admirably suited for it,’ the other answered. ‘He has every + requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.’ He took + a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until + I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand, + and congratulated me warmly on my success. +

+

+ “ ‘It would be injustice to hesitate,’ said he. ‘You will, however, I am + sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.’ With that he seized + my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. + ‘There is water in your eyes,’ said he as he released me. ‘I perceive + that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have + twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of + cobbler’s wax which would disgust you with human nature.’ He stepped + over to the window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that + the vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, + and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there was + not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the manager. +

+

+ “ ‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of the + pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a married + man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?’ +

+

“I answered that I had not.

+

“His face fell immediately.

+

+ “ ‘Dear me!’ he said gravely, ‘that is very serious indeed! I am sorry + to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and + spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is + exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.’ +

+

+ “My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not to + have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes + he said that it would be all right. +

+

+ “ ‘In the case of another,’ said he, ‘the objection might be fatal, but + we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of hair as + yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?’ +

+

+ “ ‘Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,’ said I. +

+

+ “ ‘Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!’ said Vincent Spaulding. ‘I + should be able to look after that for you.’ +

+

“ ‘What would be the hours?’ I asked.

+

“ ‘Ten to two.’

+

+ “Now a pawnbroker’s business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, + especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so + it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I + knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anything + that turned up. +

+

“ ‘That would suit me very well,’ said I. ‘And the pay?’

+

“ ‘Is £4 a week.’

+

“ ‘And the work?’

+

“ ‘Is purely nominal.’

+

“ ‘What do you call purely nominal?’

+

+ “ ‘Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the + whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The + will is very clear upon that point. You don’t comply with the conditions + if you budge from the office during that time.’ +

+

+ “ ‘It’s only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,’ said + I. +

+

+ “ ‘No excuse will avail,’ said Mr. Duncan Ross; ‘neither sickness nor + business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your + billet.’ +

+

“ ‘And the work?’

+

+ “ ‘Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the + first volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and + blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready + to-morrow?’ +

+

“ ‘Certainly,’ I answered.

+

+ “ ‘Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once + more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough to + gain.’ He bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, + hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good + fortune. +

+

+ “Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low + spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair + must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I + could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could + make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything + so simple as copying out the + Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did what he could + to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole + thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it anyhow, + so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and seven + sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope’s Court. +

+

+ “Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. + The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see + that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then + he left me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was + right with me. At two o’clock he bade me good-day, complimented me upon + the amount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after + me. +

+

+ “This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager + came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week’s work. It + was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was + there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan + Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, + he did not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the + room for an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the + billet was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk + the loss of it. +

+

+ “Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and + Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with diligence + that I might get on to the B’s before very long. It cost me something in + foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my writings. And + then suddenly the whole business came to an end.” +

+

“To an end?”

+

+ “Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual at + ten o’clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square of + cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it + is, and you can read for yourself.” +

+

+ He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of + note-paper. It read in this fashion: +

+

+ THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED. October 9, 1890. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful + face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely + overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar + of laughter. +

+

+ “I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our client, + flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. “If you can do nothing + better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.” +

+

+ “No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he + had half risen. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for the world. It is + most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying + so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take + when you found the card upon the door?” +

+

+ “I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the + offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. + Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the + ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the + Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of any such body. + Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was + new to him. +

+

“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘the gentleman at No. 4.’

+

“ ‘What, the red-headed man?’

+

“ ‘Yes.’

+

+ “ ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and + was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises were + ready. He moved out yesterday.’ +

+

“ ‘Where could I find him?’

+

+ “ ‘Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King + Edward Street, near St. Paul’s.’ +

+

+ “I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a + manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard of + either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.” +

+

“And what did you do then?” asked Holmes.

+

+ “I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my + assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that + if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, + Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, + as I had heard that you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who + were in need of it, I came right away to you.” +

+

+ “And you did very wisely,” said Holmes. “Your case is an exceedingly + remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you have + told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it than + might at first sight appear.” +

+

+ “Grave enough!” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “Why, I have lost four pound a + week.” +

+

+ “As far as you are personally concerned,” remarked Holmes, “I do not see + that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On the + contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some £30, to say nothing + of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which + comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them.” +

+

+ “No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and what + their object was in playing this prank—if it was a prank—upon me. It was + a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty + pounds.” +

+

+ “We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one or + two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called your + attention to the advertisement—how long had he been with you?” +

+

“About a month then.”

+

“How did he come?”

+

“In answer to an advertisement.”

+

“Was he the only applicant?”

+

“No, I had a dozen.”

+

“Why did you pick him?”

+

“Because he was handy and would come cheap.”

+

“At half wages, in fact.”

+

“Yes.”

+

“What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?”

+

+ “Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, though + he’s not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead.” +

+

+ Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. “I thought as + much,” said he. “Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for + earrings?” +

+

+ “Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a + lad.” +

+

+ “Hum!” said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. “He is still with + you?” +

+

“Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.”

+

“And has your business been attended to in your absence?”

+

+ “Nothing to complain of, sir. There’s never very much to do of a + morning.” +

+

+ “That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon + the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I + hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.” +

+

+ “Well, Watson,” said Holmes when our visitor had left us, “what do you + make of it all?” +

+

+ “I make nothing of it,” I answered frankly. “It is a most mysterious + business.” +

+

+ “As a rule,” said Holmes, “the more bizarre a thing is the less + mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes + which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most + difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter.” +

+

“What are you going to do, then?” I asked.

+

+ “To smoke,” he answered. “It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg + that you won’t speak to me for fifty minutes.” He curled himself up in + his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there + he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like + the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had + dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang + out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and + put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. +

+

+ “Sarasate plays at the St. James’s Hall this afternoon,” he remarked. + “What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few + hours?” +

+

+ “I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing.” +

+

+ “Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and + we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal + of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste than + Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Come + along!” +

+

+ We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk + took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we + had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel + place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out + into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few + clumps of faded laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden + and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with + “JABEZ WILSON” in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the + place where our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock + Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side and looked it + all over, with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he + walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still + looking keenly at the houses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker’s, + and, having thumped vigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or + three times, he went up to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened + by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step + in. +

+

+ “Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you how you would go + from here to the Strand.” +

+

+ “Third right, fourth left,” answered the assistant promptly, closing the + door. +

+

+ “Smart fellow, that,” observed Holmes as we walked away. “He is, in my + judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not + sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of him + before.” +

+

+ “Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson’s assistant counts for a good deal in + this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired your + way merely in order that you might see him.” +

+

“Not him.”

+

“What then?”

+

“The knees of his trousers.”

+

“And what did you see?”

+

“What I expected to see.”

+

“Why did you beat the pavement?”

+

+ “My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are + spies in an enemy’s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. + Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it.” +

+

+ The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from + the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as + the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main arteries + which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The + roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a + double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with the + hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked + at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really + abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which we + had just quitted. +

+

+ “Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the + line, “I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It + is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is + Mortimer’s, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg + branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and + McFarlane’s carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the + other block. And now, Doctor, we’ve done our work, so it’s time we had + some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, + where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no + red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums.” +

+

+ My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very + capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoon + he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently + waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently + smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes + the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed + criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular + character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme + exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the + reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally + predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from extreme + languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so truly + formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his + armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions. Then it + was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him, and that + his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, + until those who were unacquainted with his methods would look askance at + him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I + saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James’s Hall I + felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set + himself to hunt down. +

+

+ “You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor,” he remarked as we emerged. +

+

“Yes, it would be as well.”

+

+ “And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This + business at Coburg Square is serious.” +

+

“Why serious?”

+

+ “A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to + believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday + rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night.” +

+

“At what time?”

+

“Ten will be early enough.”

+

“I shall be at Baker Street at ten.”

+

+ “Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so + kindly put your army revolver in your pocket.” He waved his hand, turned + on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. +

+

+ I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always + oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock + Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, + and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what + had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole + business was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house + in Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the + red-headed copier of the Encyclopaedia down to the visit to + Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from + me. What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where + were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that + this smooth-faced pawnbroker’s assistant was a formidable man—a man who + might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in + despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an + explanation. +

+

+ It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way + across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two + hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heard + the sound of voices from above. On entering his room, I found Holmes in + animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised as Peter + Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, + sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable + frock-coat. +

+

+ “Ha! Our party is complete,” said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket + and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. “Watson, I think you + know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. + Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night’s adventure.” +

+

+ “We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,” said Jones in his + consequential way. “Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting a + chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down.” +

+

+ “I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,” observed + Mr. Merryweather gloomily. +

+

+ “You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said the + police agent loftily. “He has his own little methods, which are, if he + won’t mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, + but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say + that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the + Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force.” +

+

+ “Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the stranger with + deference. “Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first + Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my + rubber.” +

+

+ “I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that you will play for a + higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play + will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some + £30,000; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wish to + lay your hands.” +

+

+ “John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He’s a young man, + Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would + rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He’s a + remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, + and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as + his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never + know where to find the man himself. He’ll crack a crib in Scotland one + week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. + I’ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet.” +

+

+ “I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I’ve + had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with + you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, + and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, + Watson and I will follow in the second.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay + back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon. + We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we + emerged into Farrington Street. +

+

+ “We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow Merryweather + is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I thought + it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an + absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is + as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws + upon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us.” +

+

+ We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found + ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the + guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and + through a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small + corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, + and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at + another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, + and then conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after + opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all + round with crates and massive boxes. +

+

+ “You are not very vulnerable from above,” Holmes remarked as he held up + the lantern and gazed about him. +

+

+ “Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the + flags which lined the floor. “Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!” he + remarked, looking up in surprise. +

+

+ “I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!” said Holmes severely. + “You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might + I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those + boxes, and not to interfere?” +

+

+ The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very + injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees upon + the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine + minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed to + satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in his + pocket. +

+

+ “We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked, “for they can hardly + take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they + will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer + time they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor—as no + doubt you have divined—in the cellar of the City branch of one of the + principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, + and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daring + criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar + at present.” +

+

+ “It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had several + warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.” +

+

“Your French gold?”

+

+ “Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and + borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It + has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, + and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit + contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve + of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single + branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject.” +

+

+ “Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now it is time + that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters + will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must put the + screen over that dark lantern.” +

+

“And sit in the dark?”

+

+ “I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I + thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your + rubber after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have gone so + far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we + must choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall + take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are + careful. I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves + behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If + they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down.” +

+

+ I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind + which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern + and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolute darkness as I have never + before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that + the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment’s notice. To + me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was + something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold + dank air of the vault. +

+

+ “They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes. “That is back through the + house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked + you, Jones?” +

+

“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.”

+

+ “Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and + wait.” +

+

+ What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but an + hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have + almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and + stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked up + to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I + could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could + distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the + thin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could look + over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the + glint of a light. +

+

+ At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it + lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any + warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, + almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area + of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, + protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it + appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which + marked a chink between the stones. +

+

+ Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearing + sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon its side and left + a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. + Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly + about it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew + itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the + edge. In another instant he stood at the side of the hole and was + hauling after him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale + face and a shock of very red hair. +

+

+ “It’s all clear,” he whispered. “Have you the chisel and the bags? Great + Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I’ll swing for it!” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. + The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as + Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a + revolver, but Holmes’ hunting crop came down on the man’s wrist, and the + pistol clinked upon the stone floor. +

+

+ “It’s no use, John Clay,” said Holmes blandly. “You have no chance at + all.” +

+

+ “So I see,” the other answered with the utmost coolness. “I fancy that + my pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails.” +

+

“There are three men waiting for him at the door,” said Holmes.

+

+ “Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I must + compliment you.” +

+

+ “And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed idea was very new and + effective.” +

+

+ “You’ll see your pal again presently,” said Jones. “He’s quicker at + climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies.” +

+

+ “I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,” remarked our + prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. “You may not be + aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, when + you address me always to say ‘sir’ and ‘please.’ ” +

+

+ “All right,” said Jones with a stare and a snigger. “Well, would you + please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your + Highness to the police-station?” +

+

+ “That is better,” said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to the + three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective. +

+

+ “Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the + cellar, “I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There is + no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete manner + one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come + within my experience.” +

+

+ “I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. John + Clay,” said Holmes. “I have been at some small expense over this matter, + which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply + repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, and by + hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League.” +

+
+

+ “You see, Watson,” he explained in the early hours of the morning as we + sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, “it was perfectly + obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather + fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the copying + of the Encyclopaedia, must be to get this not over-bright + pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a + curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to + suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Clay’s ingenious + mind by the colour of his accomplice’s hair. The £4 a week was a lure + which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for + thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary + office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and together + they manage to secure his absence every morning in the week. From the + time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was + obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the + situation.” +

+

“But how could you guess what the motive was?”

+

+ “Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere + vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man’s + business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could + account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they + were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? + I thought of the assistant’s fondness for photography, and his trick of + vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled + clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found + that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in + London. He was doing something in the cellar—something which took many + hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could + think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other + building. +

+

+ “So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprised + you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining + whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in + front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. + We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other + before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to + see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained + they were. They spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining + point was what they were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw + the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend’s premises, and felt + that I had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I + called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, + with the result that you have seen.” +

+

+ “And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?” I + asked. +

+

+ “Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they + cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson’s presence—in other words, that + they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should + use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed. + Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give + them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to + come to-night.” +

+

+ “You reasoned it out beautifully,” I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration. + “It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true.” +

+

+ “It saved me from ennui,” he answered, yawning. “Alas! I already feel it + closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from + the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so.” +

+

“And you are a benefactor of the race,” said I.

+

+ He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some + little use,” he remarked. “ ‘L’homme c’est rien—l’oeuvre c’est tout,’ as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7495dd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch02.md @@ -0,0 +1,1109 @@ +--- +title: The Red-Headed League +class: part +--- + +## The Red-Headed League + +I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the +autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a +very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. +With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when +Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door +behind me. + +“You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear +Watson,” he said cordially. + +“I was afraid that you were engaged.” + +“So I am. Very much so.” + +“Then I can wait in the next room.” + +“Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and +helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no +doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also.” + +The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of +greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small +fat-encircled eyes. + +“Try the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and +putting his fingertips together, as was his custom when in +judicial moods. “I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love +of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum +routine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it by +the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you +will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own +little adventures.” + +“Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me,” I +observed. + +“You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we +went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary +Sutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinary +combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more +daring than any effort of the imagination.” + +“A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting.” + +“You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my +view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you +until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to +be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call +upon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to +be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some +time. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique +things are very often connected not with the larger but with the +smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for +doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as I +have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the present +case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is +certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. +Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to +recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend +Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the +peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every +possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some +slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide +myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my +memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the +facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.” + +The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some +little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the +inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the +advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper +flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and +endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the +indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance. + +I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor +bore every mark of being an average commonplace British +tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey +shepherd’s check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, +unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy +Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as +an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a +wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, +look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save +his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and +discontent upon his features. + +Sherlock Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook +his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. +“Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual +labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has +been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of +writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.” + +Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger +upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion. + +“How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. +Holmes?” he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did +manual labour. It’s as true as gospel, for I began as a ship’s +carpenter.” + +“Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger +than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more +developed.” + +“Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?” + +“I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, +especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you +use an arc-and-compass breastpin.” + +“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?” + +“What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for +five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the +elbow where you rest it upon the desk?” + +“Well, but China?” + +“The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right +wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small +study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature +of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes’ scales of a +delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I +see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter +becomes even more simple.” + +Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I +thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see +that there was nothing in it after all.” + +“I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake +in explaining. ‘_Omne ignotum pro magnifico_,’ you know, and my +poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I +am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?” + +“Yes, I have got it now,” he answered with his thick red finger +planted halfway down the column. “Here it is. This is what began +it all. You just read it for yourself, sir.” + +I took the paper from him and read as follows: + +“TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late +Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now +another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a +salary of £4 a week for purely nominal services. All +red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age +of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at +eleven o’clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 +Pope’s Court, Fleet Street.” + +“What on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated after I had twice +read over the extraordinary announcement. + +Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when +in high spirits. “It is a little off the beaten track, isn’t it?” +said he. “And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us +all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this +advertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, +Doctor, of the paper and the date.” + +“It is _The Morning Chronicle_ of April 27, 1890. Just two months +ago.” + +“Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?” + +“Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock +Holmes,” said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; “I have a small +pawnbroker’s business at Coburg Square, near the City. It’s not a +very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than +just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, +but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him but +that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the +business.” + +“What is the name of this obliging youth?” asked Sherlock Holmes. + +“His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he’s not such a youth, +either. It’s hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter +assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better +himself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after +all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?” + +“Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who +comes under the full market price. It is not a common experience +among employers in this age. I don’t know that your assistant is +not as remarkable as your advertisement.” + +“Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never was such a +fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought +to be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar +like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his +main fault, but on the whole he’s a good worker. There’s no vice +in him.” + +“He is still with you, I presume?” + +“Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple +cooking and keeps the place clean—that’s all I have in the +house, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live very +quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads +and pay our debts, if we do nothing more. + +“The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. +Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight +weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: + +“ ‘I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.’ + +“ ‘Why that?’ I asks. + +“ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘here’s another vacancy on the League of the +Red-headed Men. It’s worth quite a little fortune to any man who +gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than +there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits’ end what +to do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here’s +a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.’ + +“ ‘Why, what is it, then?’ I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a +very stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of +my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting +my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn’t know much of what +was going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news. + +“ ‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?’ he +asked with his eyes open. + +“ ‘Never.’ + +“ ‘Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one +of the vacancies.’ + +“ ‘And what are they worth?’ I asked. + +“ ‘Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, +and it need not interfere very much with one’s other +occupations.’ + +“Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, +for the business has not been over good for some years, and an +extra couple of hundred would have been very handy. + +“ ‘Tell me all about it,’ said I. + +“ ‘Well,’ said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you can see for +yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address +where you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, +the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah +Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himself +red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; +so, when he died, it was found that he had left his enormous +fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the +interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of +that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to +do.’ + +“ ‘But,’ said I, ‘there would be millions of red-headed men who +would apply.’ + +“ ‘Not so many as you might think,’ he answered. ‘You see it is +really confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had +started from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the +old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your +applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but +real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. +Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly be +worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a +few hundred pounds.’ + +“Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, +that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed +to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I +stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. Vincent +Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might +prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for +the day and to come right away with me. He was very willing to +have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for +the address that was given us in the advertisement. + +“I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From +north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in +his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. +Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope’s Court +looked like a coster’s orange barrow. I should not have thought +there were so many in the whole country as were brought together +by that single advertisement. Every shade of colour they +were—straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; +but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real +vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I +would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear +of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and +pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up +to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream +upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back +dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found +ourselves in the office.” + +“Your experience has been a most entertaining one,” remarked +Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge +pinch of snuff. “Pray continue your very interesting statement.” + +“There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs +and a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that +was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate +as he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault in +them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem +to be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turn +came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of +the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he +might have a private word with us. + +“ ‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, ‘and he is +willing to fill a vacancy in the League.’ + +“ ‘And he is admirably suited for it,’ the other answered. ‘He has +every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so +fine.’ He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and +gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he +plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my +success. + +“ ‘It would be injustice to hesitate,’ said he. ‘You will, +however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.’ +With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I +yelled with the pain. ‘There is water in your eyes,’ said he as +he released me. ‘I perceive that all is as it should be. But we +have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and +once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler’s wax which +would disgust you with human nature.’ He stepped over to the +window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the +vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, +and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there +was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the +manager. + +“ ‘My name,’ said he, ‘is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of +the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are +you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?’ + +“I answered that I had not. + +“His face fell immediately. + +“ ‘Dear me!’ he said gravely, ‘that is very serious indeed! I am +sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the +propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their +maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a +bachelor.’ + +“My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was +not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for +a few minutes he said that it would be all right. + +“ ‘In the case of another,’ said he, ‘the objection might be +fatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a +head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your +new duties?’ + +“ ‘Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,’ +said I. + +“ ‘Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!’ said Vincent Spaulding. +‘I should be able to look after that for you.’ + +“ ‘What would be the hours?’ I asked. + +“ ‘Ten to two.’ + +“Now a pawnbroker’s business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. +Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just +before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in +the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, +and that he would see to anything that turned up. + +“ ‘That would suit me very well,’ said I. ‘And the pay?’ + +“ ‘Is £4 a week.’ + +“ ‘And the work?’ + +“ ‘Is purely nominal.’ + +“ ‘What do you call purely nominal?’ + +“ ‘Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the +building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole +position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You +don’t comply with the conditions if you budge from the office +during that time.’ + +“ ‘It’s only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,’ +said I. + +“ ‘No excuse will avail,’ said Mr. Duncan Ross; ‘neither sickness +nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose +your billet.’ + +“ ‘And the work?’ + +“ ‘Is to copy out the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_. There is the first +volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and +blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be +ready to-morrow?’ + +“ ‘Certainly,’ I answered. + +“ ‘Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you +once more on the important position which you have been fortunate +enough to gain.’ He bowed me out of the room and I went home with +my assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased +at my own good fortune. + +“Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in +low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the +whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its +object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past +belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay +such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the +_Encyclopaedia Britannica_. Vincent Spaulding did what he could to +cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the +whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look +at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a +quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for +Pope’s Court. + +“Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as +possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross +was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off +upon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from +time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o’clock he +bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had +written, and locked the door of the office after me. + +“This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the +manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my +week’s work. It was the same next week, and the same the week +after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I +left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only +once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at +all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an +instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet +was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk +the loss of it. + +“Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about +Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and +hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B’s before very +long. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly +filled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the whole +business came to an end.” + +“To an end?” + +“Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as +usual at ten o’clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a +little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the +panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself.” + +He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet +of note-paper. It read in this fashion: + +THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE +IS +DISSOLVED. +October 9, 1890. + +Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the +rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so +completely overtopped every other consideration that we both +burst out into a roar of laughter. + +“I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried our +client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. “If you can +do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere.” + +“No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from +which he had half risen. “I really wouldn’t miss your case for +the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you +will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. +Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the +door?” + +“I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called +at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything +about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant +living on the ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me +what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had +never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan +Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him. + +“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘the gentleman at No. 4.’ + +“ ‘What, the red-headed man?’ + +“ ‘Yes.’ + +“ ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor +and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new +premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.’ + +“ ‘Where could I find him?’ + +“ ‘Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 +King Edward Street, near St. Paul’s.’ + +“I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was +a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever +heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross.” + +“And what did you do then?” asked Holmes. + +“I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my +assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say +that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite +good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place +without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough +to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came right +away to you.” + +“And you did very wisely,” said Holmes. “Your case is an +exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. +From what you have told me I think that it is possible that +graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear.” + +“Grave enough!” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “Why, I have lost four +pound a week.” + +“As far as you are personally concerned,” remarked Holmes, “I do +not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary +league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some +£30, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have +gained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have +lost nothing by them.” + +“No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, +and what their object was in playing this prank—if it was a +prank—upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it +cost them two and thirty pounds.” + +“We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, +one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who +first called your attention to the advertisement—how long had he +been with you?” + +“About a month then.” + +“How did he come?” + +“In answer to an advertisement.” + +“Was he the only applicant?” + +“No, I had a dozen.” + +“Why did you pick him?” + +“Because he was handy and would come cheap.” + +“At half wages, in fact.” + +“Yes.” + +“What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?” + +“Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, +though he’s not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon +his forehead.” + +Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. “I thought +as much,” said he. “Have you ever observed that his ears are +pierced for earrings?” + +“Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he +was a lad.” + +“Hum!” said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. “He is still +with you?” + +“Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him.” + +“And has your business been attended to in your absence?” + +“Nothing to complain of, sir. There’s never very much to do of a +morning.” + +“That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an +opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is +Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion.” + +“Well, Watson,” said Holmes when our visitor had left us, “what +do you make of it all?” + +“I make nothing of it,” I answered frankly. “It is a most +mysterious business.” + +“As a rule,” said Holmes, “the more bizarre a thing is the less +mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless +crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is +the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this +matter.” + +“What are you going to do, then?” I asked. + +“To smoke,” he answered. “It is quite a three pipe problem, and I +beg that you won’t speak to me for fifty minutes.” He curled +himself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his +hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and his +black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. +I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and +indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his +chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put +his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. + +“Sarasate plays at the St. James’s Hall this afternoon,” he +remarked. “What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare +you for a few hours?” + +“I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very +absorbing.” + +“Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City +first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that +there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is +rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is +introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!” + +We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short +walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular +story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, +little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy +two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in +enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded +laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and +uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with +“JABEZ WILSON” in white letters, upon a corner house, announced +the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. +Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side +and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between +puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down +again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally +he returned to the pawnbroker’s, and, having thumped vigorously +upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up +to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a +bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step +in. + +“Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you how you would +go from here to the Strand.” + +“Third right, fourth left,” answered the assistant promptly, +closing the door. + +“Smart fellow, that,” observed Holmes as we walked away. “He is, +in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring +I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known +something of him before.” + +“Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson’s assistant counts for a good +deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you +inquired your way merely in order that you might see him.” + +“Not him.” + +“What then?” + +“The knees of his trousers.” + +“And what did you see?” + +“What I expected to see.” + +“Why did you beat the pavement?” + +“My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We +are spies in an enemy’s country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg +Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it.” + +The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the +corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a +contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was +one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City +to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense +stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, +while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of +pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line +of fine shops and stately business premises that they really +abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square +which we had just quitted. + +“Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing +along the line, “I should like just to remember the order of the +houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of +London. There is Mortimer’s, the tobacconist, the little +newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, +the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane’s carriage-building +depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, +Doctor, we’ve done our work, so it’s time we had some play. A +sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where +all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no +red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums.” + +My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a +very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All +the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect +happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the +music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes +were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the +relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was +possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature +alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and +astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction +against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally +predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from +extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was +never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been +lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his +black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase +would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning +power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were +unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a +man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him +that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James’s Hall I +felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set +himself to hunt down. + +“You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor,” he remarked as we +emerged. + +“Yes, it would be as well.” + +“And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This +business at Coburg Square is serious.” + +“Why serious?” + +“A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to +believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being +Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your help +to-night.” + +“At what time?” + +“Ten will be early enough.” + +“I shall be at Baker Street at ten.” + +“Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, +so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket.” He waved his +hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the +crowd. + +I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was +always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings +with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had +seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that +he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to +happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and +grotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought +over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed +copier of the _Encyclopaedia_ down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg +Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. +What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? +Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from +Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker’s assistant was a +formidable man—a man who might play a deep game. I tried to +puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside +until night should bring an explanation. + +It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my +way across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker +Street. Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered +the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering +his room, I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, +one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police +agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a +very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat. + +“Ha! Our party is complete,” said Holmes, buttoning up his +pea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. +“Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me +introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in +to-night’s adventure.” + +“We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,” said Jones in +his consequential way. “Our friend here is a wonderful man for +starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do +the running down.” + +“I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase,” +observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily. + +“You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir,” said +the police agent loftily. “He has his own little methods, which +are, if he won’t mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical +and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It +is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of +the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly +correct than the official force.” + +“Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right,” said the +stranger with deference. “Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. +It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I +have not had my rubber.” + +“I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that you will +play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and +that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, +the stake will be some £30,000; and for you, Jones, it will +be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands.” + +“John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He’s a +young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his +profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on +any criminal in London. He’s a remarkable man, is young John +Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been +to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and +though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to +find the man himself. He’ll crack a crib in Scotland one week, +and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. +I’ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him +yet.” + +“I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. +I’ve had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I +agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is +past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two +will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the +second.” + +Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive +and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in +the afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit +streets until we emerged into Farrington Street. + +“We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow +Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the +matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is +not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. +He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as +tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we +are, and they are waiting for us.” + +We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had +found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, +following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a +narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us. +Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive +iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding +stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr. +Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us +down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a +third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all +round with crates and massive boxes. + +“You are not very vulnerable from above,” Holmes remarked as he +held up the lantern and gazed about him. + +“Nor from below,” said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon +the flags which lined the floor. “Why, dear me, it sounds quite +hollow!” he remarked, looking up in surprise. + +“I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!” said Holmes +severely. “You have already imperilled the whole success of our +expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit +down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?” + +The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a +very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his +knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, +began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few +seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again +and put his glass in his pocket. + +“We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked, “for they can +hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. +Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their +work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at +present, Doctor—as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of +the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. +Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to +you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of +London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at +present.” + +“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had +several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it.” + +“Your French gold?” + +“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources +and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of +France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to +unpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The +crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between +layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at +present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the +directors have had misgivings upon the subject.” + +“Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now it is +time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an +hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. +Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern.” + +“And sit in the dark?” + +“I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and +I thought that, as we were a _partie carrée_, you might have your +rubber after all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have +gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, +first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men, +and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us +some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate, +and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a +light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no +compunction about shooting them down.” + +I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case +behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front +of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness—such an absolute +darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot +metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready +to flash out at a moment’s notice. To me, with my nerves worked +up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and +subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the +vault. + +“They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes. “That is back +through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have +done what I asked you, Jones?” + +“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door.” + +“Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent +and wait.” + +What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but +an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must +have almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs +were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my +nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my +hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle +breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, +heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note +of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case +in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint +of a light. + +At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then +it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, +without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand +appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the +centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the +hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then +it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark +again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between +the stones. + +Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, +tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon +its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed +the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, +boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand +on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and +waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another +instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after +him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face +and a shock of very red hair. + +“It’s all clear,” he whispered. “Have you the chisel and the +bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I’ll swing for it!” + +Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the +collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of +rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed +upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes’ hunting crop came +down on the man’s wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone +floor. + +“It’s no use, John Clay,” said Holmes blandly. “You have no +chance at all.” + +“So I see,” the other answered with the utmost coolness. “I fancy +that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his +coat-tails.” + +“There are three men waiting for him at the door,” said Holmes. + +“Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I +must compliment you.” + +“And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed idea was very new +and effective.” + +“You’ll see your pal again presently,” said Jones. “He’s quicker +at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the +derbies.” + +“I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands,” +remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. +“You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have +the goodness, also, when you address me always to say ‘sir’ and +‘please.’ ” + +“All right,” said Jones with a stare and a snigger. “Well, would +you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry +your Highness to the police-station?” + +“That is better,” said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow +to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the +detective. + +“Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them +from the cellar, “I do not know how the bank can thank you or +repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated +in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts +at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience.” + +“I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. +John Clay,” said Holmes. “I have been at some small expense over +this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond +that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in +many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of +the Red-headed League.” + +
+ +“You see, Watson,” he explained in the early hours of the morning +as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, “it +was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible +object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of +the League, and the copying of the _Encyclopaedia_, must be to get +this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of +hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, +really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was +no doubt suggested to Clay’s ingenious mind by the colour of his +accomplice’s hair. The £4 a week was a lure which must draw +him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? +They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary +office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and +together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the +week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for +half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive +for securing the situation.” + +“But how could you guess what the motive was?” + +“Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a +mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The +man’s business was a small one, and there was nothing in his +house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and +such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something +out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant’s +fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the +cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then +I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I +had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in +London. He was doing something in the cellar—something which +took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once +more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel +to some other building. + +“So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I +surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was +ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. +It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the +assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had +never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his +face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have +remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of +those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they +were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and +Suburban Bank abutted on our friend’s premises, and felt that I +had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I +called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank +directors, with the result that you have seen.” + +“And how could you tell that they would make their attempt +to-night?” I asked. + +“Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that +they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson’s presence—in other +words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential +that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the +bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than +any other day, as it would give them two days for their escape. +For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night.” + +“You reasoned it out beautifully,” I exclaimed in unfeigned +admiration. “It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings +true.” + +“It saved me from ennui,” he answered, yawning. “Alas! I already +feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort +to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little +problems help me to do so.” + +“And you are a benefactor of the race,” said I. + +He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, perhaps, after all, it is of +some little use,” he remarked. “ ‘_L’homme c’est rien—l’oeuvre +c’est tout_,’ as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0d943f --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.html @@ -0,0 +1,823 @@ + + + + + A Case of Identity + + + + +
+

A Case of Identity

+

+ “My dear fellow,” said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the + fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, “life is infinitely stranger than + anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to + conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If + we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great + city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are + going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, + the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading + to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with its + conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable.” +

+

+ “And yet I am not convinced of it,” I answered. “The cases which come to + light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. We + have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet + the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic.” +

+

+ “A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a + realistic effect,” remarked Holmes. “This is wanting in the police + report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the + magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the vital + essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so + unnatural as the commonplace.” +

+

+ I smiled and shook my head. “I can quite understand your thinking so,” I + said. “Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to + everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you + are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here”—I + picked up the morning paper from the ground—“let us put it to a + practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come. ‘A + husband’s cruelty to his wife.’ There is half a column of print, but I + know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There + is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the + bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could + invent nothing more crude.” +

+

+ “Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,” said + Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. “This is the + Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing up + some small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler, + there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that he had + drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false + teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an + action likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. + Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over + you in your example.” +

+

+ He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the + centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways + and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. +

+

+ “Ah,” said he, “I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is a + little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in + the case of the Irene Adler papers.” +

+

+ “And the ring?” I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which + sparkled upon his finger. +

+

+ “It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which + I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, + who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little + problems.” +

+

“And have you any on hand just now?” I asked with interest.

+

+ “Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest. + They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, I + have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a + field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and + effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are + apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a + rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate + matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing + which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I + may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is + one of my clients, or I am much mistaken.” +

+

+ He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds + gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his + shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large woman + with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in + a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of + Devonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great panoply she + peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her + body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her + glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the + bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the + bell. +

+

+ “I have seen those symptoms before,” said Holmes, throwing his cigarette + into the fire. “Oscillation upon the pavement always means an + affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that + the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we + may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she + no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here + we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not + so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to + resolve our doubts.” +

+

+ As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons entered + to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind + his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny + pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for + which he was remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed her into + an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion + which was peculiar to him. +

+

+ “Do you not find,” he said, “that with your short sight it is a little + trying to do so much typewriting?” +

+

+ “I did at first,” she answered, “but now I know where the letters are + without looking.” Then, suddenly realising the full purport of his + words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and + astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. “You’ve heard about me, + Mr. Holmes,” she cried, “else how could you know all that?” +

+

+ “Never mind,” said Holmes, laughing; “it is my business to know things. + Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, why + should you come to consult me?” +

+

+ “I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whose + husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up + for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I’m not + rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the + little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what + has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel.” +

+

+ “Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?” asked Sherlock + Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling. +

+

+ Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary + Sutherland. “Yes, I did bang out of the house,” she said, “for it made + me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank—that is, my + father—took it all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go + to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying that + there was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and + came right away to you.” +

+

+ “Your father,” said Holmes, “your stepfather, surely, since the name is + different.” +

+

+ “Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, for + he is only five years and two months older than myself.” +

+

“And your mother is alive?”

+

+ “Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn’t best pleased, Mr. Holmes, + when she married again so soon after father’s death, and a man who was + nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in the + Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which + mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank + came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a + traveller in wines. They got £4700 for the goodwill and interest, which + wasn’t near as much as father could have got if he had been alive.” +

+

+ I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and + inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened with + the greatest concentration of attention. +

+

+ “Your own little income,” he asked, “does it come out of the business?” +

+

+ “Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in + Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4½ per cent. Two thousand + five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest.” +

+

+ “You interest me extremely,” said Holmes. “And since you draw so large a + sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no + doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that + a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about £60.” +

+

+ “I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand + that as long as I live at home I don’t wish to be a burden to them, and + so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of + course, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest + every quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do + pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a + sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day.” +

+

+ “You have made your position very clear to me,” said Holmes. “This is my + friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before + myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer + Angel.” +

+

+ A flush stole over Miss Sutherland’s face, and she picked nervously at + the fringe of her jacket. “I met him first at the gasfitters’ ball,” she + said. “They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then + afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank + did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get + quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this + time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to + prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all father’s + friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, + when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the + drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, he went off to France upon + the business of the firm, but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who + used to be our foreman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel.” +

+

+ “I suppose,” said Holmes, “that when Mr. Windibank came back from France + he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball.” +

+

+ “Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and + shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a + woman, for she would have her way.” +

+

+ “I see. Then at the gasfitters’ ball you met, as I understand, a + gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel.” +

+

+ “Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we had + got home all safe, and after that we met him—that is to say, Mr. Holmes, + I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and + Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more.” +

+

“No?”

+

+ “Well, you know father didn’t like anything of the sort. He wouldn’t + have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman + should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to + mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got + mine yet.” +

+

+ “But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?” +

+

+ “Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote + and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until + he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every + day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for + father to know.” +

+

“Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?”

+

+ “Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. + Hosmer—Mr. Angel—was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street—and—” +

+

“What office?”

+

“That’s the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don’t know.”

+

“Where did he live, then?”

+

“He slept on the premises.”

+

“And you don’t know his address?”

+

“No—except that it was Leadenhall Street.”

+

“Where did you address your letters, then?”

+

+ “To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He + said that if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the + other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite + them, like he did his, but he wouldn’t have that, for he said that when + I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten + he always felt that the machine had come between us. That will just show + you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he + would think of.” +

+

+ “It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “It has long been an axiom of + mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you + remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?” +

+

+ “He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the + evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be + conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was + gentle. He’d had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he + told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, + whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat and + plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted + glasses against the glare.” +

+

+ “Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned + to France?” +

+

+ “Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should + marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me + swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would + always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, + and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from + the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked + of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both + said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and + mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn’t quite like + that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as he was + only a few years older than me; but I didn’t want to do anything on the + sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has its French + offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the + wedding.” +

+

“It missed him, then?”

+

“Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.”

+

+ “Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the + Friday. Was it to be in church?” +

+

+ “Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour’s, near King’s + Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras + Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us he + put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which + happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church + first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, + but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked + there was no one there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what + had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That + was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything + since then to throw any light upon what became of him.” +

+

+ “It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,” said + Holmes. +

+

+ “Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the + morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; + and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I + was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would + claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a + wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it.” +

+

+ “Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen + catastrophe has occurred to him?” +

+

+ “Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not + have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened.” +

+

“But you have no notion as to what it could have been?”

+

“None.”

+

“One more question. How did your mother take the matter?”

+

+ “She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again.” +

+

“And your father? Did you tell him?”

+

+ “Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and + that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could + anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving + me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my + money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very + independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And + yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives + me half-mad to think of it, and I can’t sleep a wink at night.” She + pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily + into it. +

+

+ “I shall glance into the case for you,” said Holmes, rising, “and I have + no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the + matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. + Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he + has done from your life.” +

+

“Then you don’t think I’ll see him again?”

+

“I fear not.”

+

“Then what has happened to him?”

+

+ “You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate + description of him and any letters of his which you can spare.” +

+

+ “I advertised for him in last Saturday’s Chronicle,” said she. + “Here is the slip and here are four letters from him.” +

+

“Thank you. And your address?”

+

“No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.”

+

+ “Mr. Angel’s address you never had, I understand. Where is your father’s + place of business?” +

+

+ “He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of + Fenchurch Street.” +

+

+ “Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave + the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the + whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your + life.” +

+

+ “You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to + Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back.” +

+

+ For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something + noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. + She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, + with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still + pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze + directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the old + and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit + it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths + spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face. +

+

+ “Quite an interesting study, that maiden,” he observed. “I found her + more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a + trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in + Andover in ’77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last + year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which + were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive.” +

+

+ “You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to + me,” I remarked. +

+

+ “Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, + and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to + realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or + the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you + gather from that woman’s appearance? Describe it.” +

+

+ “Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather + of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, + and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather + darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck and + sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right + forefinger. Her boots I didn’t observe. She had small round, hanging + gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, + comfortable, easy-going way.” +

+

Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.

+

+ “ ’Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have + really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything + of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick + eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but + concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always at a + woman’s sleeve. In a man it is perhaps better first to take the knee of + the trouser. As you observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, + which is a most useful material for showing traces. The double line a + little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, + was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a + similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest + from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this + was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez + at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and + typewriting, which seemed to surprise her.” +

+

“It surprised me.”

+

+ “But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested + on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was wearing + were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a + slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One was buttoned + only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, + third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly + dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no + great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry.” +

+

+ “And what else?” I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my + friend’s incisive reasoning. +

+

+ “I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home + but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was + torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove + and finger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry and + dipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark + would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though + rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you + mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?” +

+

I held the little printed slip to the light.

+

+ “Missing,” it said, “on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named + Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly built, sallow + complexion, black hair, a little bald in the centre, bushy, black + side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech. + Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black + waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown + gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an + office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing—” +

+

+ “That will do,” said Holmes. “As to the letters,” he continued, glancing + over them, “they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them to Mr. + Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, + however, which will no doubt strike you.” +

+

“They are typewritten,” I remarked.

+

+ “Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat + little ‘Hosmer Angel’ at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no + superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The + point about the signature is very suggestive—in fact, we may call it + conclusive.” +

+

“Of what?”

+

+ “My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears + upon the case?” +

+

+ “I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to deny + his signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted.” +

+

+ “No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which + should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to + the young lady’s stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he could + meet us here at six o’clock to-morrow evening. It is just as well that + we should do business with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can + do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our + little problem upon the shelf for the interim.” +

+

+ I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend’s subtle powers of + reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must + have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which he + treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom. + Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia + and of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weird + business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances + connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange + tangle indeed which he could not unravel. +

+

+ I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the + conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that + he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity + of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland. +

+

+ A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at + the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the + sufferer. It was not until close upon six o’clock that I found myself + free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, + half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the + dénouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes + alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the + recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, + with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had + spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him. +

+

“Well, have you solved it?” I asked as I entered.

+

“Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta.”

+

“No, no, the mystery!” I cried.

+

+ “Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There + was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some + of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no + law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel.” +

+

+ “Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss + Sutherland?” +

+

+ The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened + his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a + tap at the door. +

+

+ “This is the girl’s stepfather, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “He + has written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!” +

+

+ The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years + of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating + manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes. He + shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top-hat upon + the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair. +

+

+ “Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “I think that this + typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with me + for six o’clock?” +

+

+ “Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my + own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you + about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen + of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but + she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and + she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. + Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the + official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like + this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you + possibly find this Hosmer Angel?” +

+

+ “On the contrary,” said Holmes quietly; “I have every reason to believe + that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel.” +

+

+ Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. “I am + delighted to hear it,” he said. +

+

+ “It is a curious thing,” remarked Holmes, “that a typewriter has really + quite as much individuality as a man’s handwriting. Unless they are + quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more + worn than others, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in + this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some + little slurring over of the ‘e,’ and a slight defect in the tail of the + ‘r.’ There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the more + obvious.” +

+

+ “We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no + doubt it is a little worn,” our visitor answered, glancing keenly at + Holmes with his bright little eyes. +

+

+ “And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. + Windibank,” Holmes continued. “I think of writing another little + monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to + crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. I + have here four letters which purport to come from the missing man. They + are all typewritten. In each case, not only are the ‘e’s’ slurred and + the ‘r’s’ tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my + magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I have + alluded are there as well.” +

+

+ Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. “I cannot + waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “If + you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done + it.” +

+

+ “Certainly,” said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. + “I let you know, then, that I have caught him!” +

+

+ “What! where?” shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips and + glancing about him like a rat in a trap. +

+

+ “Oh, it won’t do—really it won’t,” said Holmes suavely. “There is no + possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, + and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible + for me to solve so simple a question. That’s right! Sit down and let us + talk it over.” +

+

+ Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter of + moisture on his brow. “It—it’s not actionable,” he stammered. +

+

+ “I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, Windibank, + it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever + came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you + will contradict me if I go wrong.” +

+

+ The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, + like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner + of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, + began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us. +

+

+ “The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money,” + said he, “and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as + she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their + position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It + was worth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable + disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it + was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little + income, she would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage + would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her + stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of keeping her + at home and forbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age. + But soon he found that that would not answer forever. She became + restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive + intention of going to a certain ball. What does her clever stepfather do + then? He conceives an idea more creditable to his head than to his + heart. With the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised + himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face + with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice + into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the girl’s + short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off other lovers + by making love himself.” +

+

+ “It was only a joke at first,” groaned our visitor. “We never thought + that she would have been so carried away.” +

+

+ “Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very decidedly + carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was + in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her + mind. She was flattered by the gentleman’s attentions, and the effect + was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. + Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed + as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There were + meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl’s + affections from turning towards anyone else. But the deception could not + be kept up forever. These pretended journeys to France were rather + cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in + such a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon + the young lady’s mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor + for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a + Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of something + happening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished + Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to + his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not listen + to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, and then, as + he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the old trick + of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I + think that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!” +

+

+ Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had + been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon his + pale face. +

+

+ “It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but if you are so + very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are + breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from + the first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself + open to an action for assault and illegal constraint.” +

+

+ “The law cannot, as you say, touch you,” said Holmes, unlocking and + throwing open the door, “yet there never was a man who deserved + punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought + to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!” he continued, flushing up + at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man’s face, “it is not part of + my duties to my client, but here’s a hunting crop handy, and I think I + shall just treat myself to—” He took two swift steps to the whip, but + before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the + stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. + James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road. +

+

+ “There’s a cold-blooded scoundrel!” said Holmes, laughing, as he threw + himself down into his chair once more. “That fellow will rise from crime + to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows. The + case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest.” +

+

+ “I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning,” I remarked. +

+

+ “Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer + Angel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was + equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as + far as we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men + were never together, but that the one always appeared when the other was + away, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious + voice, which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My + suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his + signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so + familiar to her that she would recognise even the smallest sample of it. + You see all these isolated facts, together with many minor ones, all + pointed in the same direction.” +

+

“And how did you verify them?”

+

+ “Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew + the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed + description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the result + of a disguise—the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the + firm, with a request that they would inform me whether it answered to + the description of any of their travellers. I had already noticed the + peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his + business address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his + reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic + defects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & + Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied in + every respect with that of their employé, James Windibank. + Voilà tout!” +

+

“And Miss Sutherland?”

+

+ “If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian + saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger + also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ There is as much sense + in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec89f3c --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch03.md @@ -0,0 +1,805 @@ +--- +title: A Case of Identity +class: part +--- + +## A Case of Identity + +“My dear fellow,” said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side +of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, “life is infinitely +stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We +would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere +commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window +hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the +roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the +strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the +wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and +leading to the most _outré_ results, it would make all fiction with +its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and +unprofitable.” + +“And yet I am not convinced of it,” I answered. “The cases which +come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and +vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to +its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, +neither fascinating nor artistic.” + +“A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a +realistic effect,” remarked Holmes. “This is wanting in the +police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the +platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an +observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend +upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace.” + +I smiled and shook my head. “I can quite understand your thinking +so,” I said. “Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser +and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout +three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is +strange and bizarre. But here”—I picked up the morning paper +from the ground—“let us put it to a practical test. Here is the +first heading upon which I come. ‘A husband’s cruelty to his +wife.’ There is half a column of print, but I know without +reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of +course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the +bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of +writers could invent nothing more crude.” + +“Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,” +said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. “This +is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged +in clearing up some small points in connection with it. The +husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the +conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of +winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling +them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely +to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a +pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over +you in your example.” + +He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in +the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his +homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon +it. + +“Ah,” said he, “I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. +It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my +assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers.” + +“And the ring?” I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which +sparkled upon his finger. + +“It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in +which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it +even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of +my little problems.” + +“And have you any on hand just now?” I asked with interest. + +“Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of +interest. They are important, you understand, without being +interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in +unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, +and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the +charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the +simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is +the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter +which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing +which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, +that I may have something better before very many minutes are +over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken.” + +He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted +blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. +Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite +there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, +and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was +tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her +ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, +hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated +backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove +buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves +the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp +clang of the bell. + +“I have seen those symptoms before,” said Holmes, throwing his +cigarette into the fire. “Oscillation upon the pavement always +means an _affaire de coeur_. She would like advice, but is not sure +that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet +even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously +wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom +is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love +matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or +grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts.” + +As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons +entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself +loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed +merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed +her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, +having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he looked +her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was +peculiar to him. + +“Do you not find,” he said, “that with your short sight it is a +little trying to do so much typewriting?” + +“I did at first,” she answered, “but now I know where the letters +are without looking.” Then, suddenly realising the full purport +of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear +and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. “You’ve +heard about me, Mr. Holmes,” she cried, “else how could you know +all that?” + +“Never mind,” said Holmes, laughing; “it is my business to know +things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others +overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?” + +“I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, +whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had +given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as +much for me. I’m not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in +my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and +I would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel.” + +“Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?” asked +Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to +the ceiling. + +Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss +Mary Sutherland. “Yes, I did bang out of the house,” she said, +“for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. +Windibank—that is, my father—took it all. He would not go to +the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he +would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, +it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away +to you.” + +“Your father,” said Holmes, “your stepfather, surely, since the +name is different.” + +“Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, +too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself.” + +“And your mother is alive?” + +“Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn’t best pleased, Mr. +Holmes, when she married again so soon after father’s death, and +a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father +was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy +business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the +foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the +business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. +They got £4700 for the goodwill and interest, which wasn’t +near as much as father could have got if he had been alive.” + +I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this +rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he +had listened with the greatest concentration of attention. + +“Your own little income,” he asked, “does it come out of the +business?” + +“Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle +Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4½ per +cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can +only touch the interest.” + +“You interest me extremely,” said Holmes. “And since you draw so +large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the +bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in +every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely +upon an income of about £60.” + +“I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you +understand that as long as I live at home I don’t wish to be a +burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while +I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the +time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it +over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I +earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can +often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day.” + +“You have made your position very clear to me,” said Holmes. +“This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as +freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your +connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel.” + +A flush stole over Miss Sutherland’s face, and she picked +nervously at the fringe of her jacket. “I met him first at the +gasfitters’ ball,” she said. “They used to send father tickets +when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and +sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He +never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I +wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I +was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to +prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all +father’s friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing +fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much +as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, +he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, +mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it +was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel.” + +“I suppose,” said Holmes, “that when Mr. Windibank came back from +France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball.” + +“Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and +shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying +anything to a woman, for she would have her way.” + +“I see. Then at the gasfitters’ ball you met, as I understand, a +gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel.” + +“Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if +we had got home all safe, and after that we met him—that is to +say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father +came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house +any more.” + +“No?” + +“Well, you know father didn’t like anything of the sort. He +wouldn’t have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to +say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But +then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to +begin with, and I had not got mine yet.” + +“But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see +you?” + +“Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer +wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each +other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he +used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so +there was no need for father to know.” + +“Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?” + +“Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that +we took. Hosmer—Mr. Angel—was a cashier in an office in +Leadenhall Street—and—” + +“What office?” + +“That’s the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don’t know.” + +“Where did he live, then?” + +“He slept on the premises.” + +“And you don’t know his address?” + +“No—except that it was Leadenhall Street.” + +“Where did you address your letters, then?” + +“To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called +for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be +chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, +so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn’t +have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come +from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the +machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond he +was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think +of.” + +“It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “It has long been an axiom +of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. +Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?” + +“He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me +in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to +be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his +voice was gentle. He’d had the quinsy and swollen glands when he +was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, +and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always +well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just +as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare.” + +“Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, +returned to France?” + +“Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we +should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest +and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever +happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite +right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. +Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder +of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the +week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to +mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother +said she would make it all right with him. I didn’t quite like +that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as +he was only a few years older than me; but I didn’t want to do +anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the +company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on +the very morning of the wedding.” + +“It missed him, then?” + +“Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.” + +“Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for +the Friday. Was it to be in church?” + +“Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour’s, near +King’s Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. +Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were +two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a +four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the +street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler +drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and +when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one +there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become +of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was +last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything +since then to throw any light upon what became of him.” + +“It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,” said +Holmes. + +“Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all +the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to +be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to +separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, +and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed +strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since +gives a meaning to it.” + +“Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some +unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?” + +“Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he +would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw +happened.” + +“But you have no notion as to what it could have been?” + +“None.” + +“One more question. How did your mother take the matter?” + +“She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter +again.” + +“And your father? Did you tell him?” + +“Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had +happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, +what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of +the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my +money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, +there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about +money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what +could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me +half-mad to think of it, and I can’t sleep a wink at night.” She +pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob +heavily into it. + +“I shall glance into the case for you,” said Holmes, rising, “and +I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the +weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind +dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel +vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life.” + +“Then you don’t think I’ll see him again?” + +“I fear not.” + +“Then what has happened to him?” + +“You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an +accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can +spare.” + +“I advertised for him in last Saturday’s _Chronicle_,” said she. +“Here is the slip and here are four letters from him.” + +“Thank you. And your address?” + +“No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.” + +“Mr. Angel’s address you never had, I understand. Where is your +father’s place of business?” + +“He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers +of Fenchurch Street.” + +“Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will +leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given +you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it +to affect your life.” + +“You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be +true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back.” + +For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was +something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which +compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon +the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever +she might be summoned. + +Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips +still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, +and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down +from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a +counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with +the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of +infinite languor in his face. + +“Quite an interesting study, that maiden,” he observed. “I found +her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, +is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you +consult my index, in Andover in ’77, and there was something of +the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, +there were one or two details which were new to me. But the +maiden herself was most instructive.” + +“You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite +invisible to me,” I remarked. + +“Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to +look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring +you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of +thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. +Now, what did you gather from that woman’s appearance? Describe +it.” + +“Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a +feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads +sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her +dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little +purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and +were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn’t +observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a +general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, +easy-going way.” + +Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. + +“ ’Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have +really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed +everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and +you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general +impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My +first glance is always at a woman’s sleeve. In a man it is +perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you +observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most +useful material for showing traces. The double line a little +above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, +was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, +leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side +of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the +broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, +observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I +ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed +to surprise her.” + +“It surprised me.” + +“But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and +interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots +which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were +really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and +the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower +buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and +fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly +dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, +it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry.” + +“And what else?” I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by +my friend’s incisive reasoning. + +“I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving +home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right +glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see +that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had +written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been +this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. +All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back +to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised +description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?” + +I held the little printed slip to the light. + +“Missing,” it said, “on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman +named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; +strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in +the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted +glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, +in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert +chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over +elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in +Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing—” + +“That will do,” said Holmes. “As to the letters,” he continued, +glancing over them, “they are very commonplace. Absolutely no +clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There +is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike +you.” + +“They are typewritten,” I remarked. + +“Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the +neat little ‘Hosmer Angel’ at the bottom. There is a date, you +see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is +rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive—in +fact, we may call it conclusive.” + +“Of what?” + +“My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it +bears upon the case?” + +“I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able +to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were +instituted.” + +“No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, +which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the +other is to the young lady’s stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking +him whether he could meet us here at six o’clock to-morrow +evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the +male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the +answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem +upon the shelf for the interim.” + +I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend’s subtle powers +of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that +he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy +demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had +been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in +the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler +photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the +Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with +the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle +indeed which he could not unravel. + +I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the +conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would +find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up +to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary +Sutherland. + +A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own +attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at +the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six +o’clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a +hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too +late to assist at the _dénouement_ of the little mystery. I found +Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin +form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable +array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell +of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the +chemical work which was so dear to him. + +“Well, have you solved it?” I asked as I entered. + +“Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta.” + +“No, no, the mystery!” I cried. + +“Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. +There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said +yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback +is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel.” + +“Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss +Sutherland?” + +The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet +opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the +passage and a tap at the door. + +“This is the girl’s stepfather, Mr. James Windibank,” said +Holmes. “He has written to me to say that he would be here at +six. Come in!” + +The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some +thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a +bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and +penetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of +us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a +slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair. + +“Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank,” said Holmes. “I think that +this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an +appointment with me for six o’clock?” + +“Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not +quite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland +has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far +better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite +against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, +impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily +controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I +did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the +official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family +misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless +expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?” + +“On the contrary,” said Holmes quietly; “I have every reason to +believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel.” + +Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. “I am +delighted to hear it,” he said. + +“It is a curious thing,” remarked Holmes, “that a typewriter has +really quite as much individuality as a man’s handwriting. Unless +they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some +letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one +side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that +in every case there is some little slurring over of the ‘e,’ and +a slight defect in the tail of the ‘r.’ There are fourteen other +characteristics, but those are the more obvious.” + +“We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, +and no doubt it is a little worn,” our visitor answered, glancing +keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes. + +“And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, +Mr. Windibank,” Holmes continued. “I think of writing another +little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its +relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some +little attention. I have here four letters which purport to come +from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not +only are the ‘e’s’ slurred and the ‘r’s’ tailless, but you will +observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen +other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well.” + +Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. “I +cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,” +he said. “If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know +when you have done it.” + +“Certainly,” said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in +the door. “I let you know, then, that I have caught him!” + +“What! where?” shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips +and glancing about him like a rat in a trap. + +“Oh, it won’t do—really it won’t,” said Holmes suavely. “There +is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too +transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that +it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That’s +right! Sit down and let us talk it over.” + +Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a +glitter of moisture on his brow. “It—it’s not actionable,” he +stammered. + +“I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, +Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a +petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the +course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong.” + +The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his +breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up +on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands +in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, +than to us. + +“The man married a woman very much older than himself for her +money,” said he, “and he enjoyed the use of the money of the +daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable +sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have +made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it. +The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate +and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with +her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would +not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would +mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her +stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of +keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of +people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not +answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and +finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain +ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an +idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the +connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself, +covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with +a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice +into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the +girl’s short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off +other lovers by making love himself.” + +“It was only a joke at first,” groaned our visitor. “We never +thought that she would have been so carried away.” + +“Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very +decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that +her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never +for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the +gentleman’s attentions, and the effect was increased by the +loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began +to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as +far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There +were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the +girl’s affections from turning towards anyone else. But the +deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys +to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to +bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it +would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady’s mind and +prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to +come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and +hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening +on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss +Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to +his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not +listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, +and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished +away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a +four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of +events, Mr. Windibank!” + +Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes +had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold +sneer upon his pale face. + +“It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but if you +are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is +you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing +actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door +locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal +constraint.” + +“The law cannot, as you say, touch you,” said Holmes, unlocking +and throwing open the door, “yet there never was a man who +deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a +friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!” +he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon +the man’s face, “it is not part of my duties to my client, but +here’s a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat +myself to—” He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he +could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, +the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. +James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road. + +“There’s a cold-blooded scoundrel!” said Holmes, laughing, as he +threw himself down into his chair once more. “That fellow will +rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and +ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not +entirely devoid of interest.” + +“I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning,” I +remarked. + +“Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. +Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious +conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really +profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the +stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together, +but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was +suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, +which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My +suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in +typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his +handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even +the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, +together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same +direction.” + +“And how did you verify them?” + +“Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I +knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed +description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the +result of a disguise—the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I +sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me +whether it answered to the description of any of their +travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the +typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business +address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his +reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but +characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from +Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the +description tallied in every respect with that of their employé, +James Windibank. _Voilà tout_!” + +“And Miss Sutherland?” + +“If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old +Persian saying, ‘There is danger for him who taketh the tiger +cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.’ +There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much +knowledge of the world.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c196e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.html @@ -0,0 +1,1118 @@ + + + + + The Boscombe Valley Mystery + + + + +
+

The Boscombe Valley Mystery

+

+ We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid + brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: +

+

+ “Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the + west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be + glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington + by the 11:15.” +

+

+ “What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. “Will you + go?” +

+

+ “I really don’t know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present.” +

+

+ “Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a + little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you + are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ cases.” +

+

+ “I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one + of them,” I answered. “But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I + have only half an hour.” +

+

+ My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of + making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so + that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, + rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and + down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller + by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. +

+

+ “It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said he. “It makes a + considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can + thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. + If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets.” +

+

+ We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers + which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, + with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past + Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and + tossed them up onto the rack. +

+

“Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked.

+

“Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.”

+

+ “The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been + looking through all the recent papers in order to master the + particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple + cases which are so extremely difficult.” +

+

“That sounds a little paradoxical.”

+

+ “But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The + more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to + bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very + serious case against the son of the murdered man.” +

+

“It is a murder, then?”

+

+ “Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted + until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will + explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to + understand it, in a very few words. +

+

+ “Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in + Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John + Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to + the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was + let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had + known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when + they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as + possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his + tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as + they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, + and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had + wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the + neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both + the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the + race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and + a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the + least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. + Now for the facts. +

+

+ “On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at + Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe + Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream + which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his + serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must + hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From + that appointment he never came back alive. +

+

+ “From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, + and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old + woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a + game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose + that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a + few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. + James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best + of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son + was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in + the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. +

+

+ “The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the + game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded + round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl + of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of + the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She + states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and + close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to + be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very + strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as + if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that + she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left + the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was + afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when + young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found + his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the + lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, + and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh + blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the + grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of + some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well + have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son’s gun, which was found + lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these + circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of + ‘wilful murder’ having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was + on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred + the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as + they came out before the coroner and the police-court.” +

+

+ “I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I remarked. “If ever + circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here.” +

+

+ “Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” answered Holmes + thoughtfully. “It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if + you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in + an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It + must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave + against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the + culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and + among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who + believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may + recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case + in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case + to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying + westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their + breakfasts at home.” +

+

+ “I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious that you will find + little credit to be gained out of this case.” +

+

+ “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact,” he answered, + laughing. “Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts + which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too + well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm + or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, + or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very + clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand + side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so + self-evident a thing as that.” +

+

“How on earth—”

+

+ “My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which + characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave + by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we + get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly + as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that + side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of + your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied + with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of + observation and inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is + just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which + lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out + in the inquest, and which are worth considering.” +

+

“What are they?”

+

+ “It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the + return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him + that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear + it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his + had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have + remained in the minds of the coroner’s jury.” +

+

“It was a confession,” I ejaculated.

+

“No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence.”

+

+ “Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a + most suspicious remark.” +

+

+ “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest rift which I can at + present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be + such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very + black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or + feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly + suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under + the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a + scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either + an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and + firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural + if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and + that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his + filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the + little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to + strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his + remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a + guilty one.” +

+

+ I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence,” I + remarked. +

+

“So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.”

+

“What is the young man’s own account of the matter?”

+

+ “It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though + there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it + here, and may read it for yourself.” +

+

+ He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, + and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which + the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had + occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read + it very carefully. It ran in this way: +

+

+ “Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and + gave evidence as follows: ‘I had been away from home for three days at + Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the + 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was + informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the + groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the + yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly + out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. + I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe + Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the + other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had + stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was + following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When + about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of “Cooee!” which was + a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and + found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at + seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A + conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my + father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was + becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I + had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry + behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring + upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and + held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him + for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner’s lodge-keeper, his + house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my + father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. + He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his + manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing + further of the matter.’ +

+

+ “The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died? +

+

+ “Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion + to a rat. +

+

“The Coroner: What did you understand by that?

+

+ “Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious. +

+

+ “The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this + final quarrel? +

+

“Witness: I should prefer not to answer.

+

“The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it.

+

+ “Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you + that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. +

+

+ “The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to + you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in + any future proceedings which may arise. +

+

“Witness: I must still refuse.

+

+ “The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee’ was a common signal + between you and your father? +

+

“Witness: It was.

+

+ “The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, + and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? +

+

“Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know.

+

+ “A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you + returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? +

+

“Witness: Nothing definite.

+

“The Coroner: What do you mean?

+

+ “Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, + that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague + impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the + left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of + some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round + for it, but it was gone. +

+

“ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?’

+

“ ‘Yes, it was gone.’

+

“ ‘You cannot say what it was?’

+

“ ‘No, I had a feeling something was there.’

+

“ ‘How far from the body?’

+

“ ‘A dozen yards or so.’

+

“ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood?’

+

“ ‘About the same.’

+

+ “ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of + it?’ +

+

“ ‘Yes, but with my back towards it.’

+

“This concluded the examination of the witness.”

+

+ “I see,” said I as I glanced down the column, “that the coroner in his + concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls + attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having + signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details + of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his + father’s dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the + son.” +

+

+ Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the + cushioned seat. “Both you and the coroner have been at some pains,” said + he, “to single out the very strongest points in the young man’s favour. + Don’t you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much + imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause + of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if + he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so + outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the + vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of + view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither + that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and + not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of + action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty + minutes.” +

+

+ It was nearly four o’clock when we at last, after passing through the + beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found + ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like + man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In + spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in + deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising + Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where + a room had already been engaged for us. +

+

+ “I have ordered a carriage,” said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. + “I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you + had been on the scene of the crime.” +

+

+ “It was very nice and complimentary of you,” Holmes answered. “It is + entirely a question of barometric pressure.” +

+

Lestrade looked startled. “I do not quite follow,” he said.

+

+ “How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the + sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the + sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do + not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night.” +

+

+ Lestrade laughed indulgently. “You have, no doubt, already formed your + conclusions from the newspapers,” he said. “The case is as plain as a + pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, + of course, one can’t refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. + She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly + told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not + already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door.” +

+

+ He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most + lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes + shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of + her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. +

+

+ “Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” she cried, glancing from one to the other of + us, and finally, with a woman’s quick intuition, fastening upon my + companion, “I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to tell + you so. I know that James didn’t do it. I know it, and I want you to + start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon that + point. We have known each other since we were little children, and I + know his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to + hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him.” +

+

+ “I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner,” said Sherlock Holmes. “You may + rely upon my doing all that I can.” +

+

+ “But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do you + not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that he is + innocent?” +

+

“I think that it is very probable.”

+

+ “There, now!” she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly at + Lestrade. “You hear! He gives me hopes.” +

+

+ Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am afraid that my colleague has been + a little quick in forming his conclusions,” he said. +

+

+ “But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And + about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he + would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in + it.” +

+

“In what way?” asked Holmes.

+

+ “It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many + disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should + be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as + brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen very little + of life yet, and—and—well, he naturally did not wish to do anything like + that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them.” +

+

+ “And your father?” asked Holmes. “Was he in favour of such a union?” +

+

+ “No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of + it.” A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one + of his keen, questioning glances at her. +

+

+ “Thank you for this information,” said he. “May I see your father if I + call to-morrow?” +

+

“I am afraid the doctor won’t allow it.”

+

“The doctor?”

+

+ “Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years + back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, + and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is + shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the + old days in Victoria.” +

+

“Ha! In Victoria! That is important.”

+

“Yes, at the mines.”

+

+ “Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made + his money.” +

+

“Yes, certainly.”

+

+ “Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me.” +

+

+ “You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go + to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that + I know him to be innocent.” +

+

“I will, Miss Turner.”

+

+ “I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leave + him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking.” She hurried from + the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels of + her carriage rattle off down the street. +

+

+ “I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade with dignity after a few + minutes’ silence. “Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to + disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel.” +

+

+ “I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy,” said Holmes. + “Have you an order to see him in prison?” +

+

“Yes, but only for you and me.”

+

+ “Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still + time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?” +

+

“Ample.”

+

+ “Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but + I shall only be away a couple of hours.” +

+

+ I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the + streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay + upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The + puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep + mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander + so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it + across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the + events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man’s story were + absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and + extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he + parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, + he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. What + could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my + medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county + paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the + surgeon’s deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left + parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered + by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. + Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some + extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to + face with his father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older + man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be + worth while to call Holmes’ attention to it. Then there was the peculiar + dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be + delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become + delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met + his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some + possible explanation. And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by + young McCarthy. If that were true the murderer must have dropped some + part of his dress, presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have + had the hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the + son was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a + tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not + wonder at Lestrade’s opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock + Holmes’ insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact + seemed to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy’s innocence. +

+

+ It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for + Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. +

+

+ “The glass still keeps very high,” he remarked as he sat down. “It is of + importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the + ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenest + for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a + long journey. I have seen young McCarthy.” +

+

“And what did you learn from him?”

+

“Nothing.”

+

“Could he throw no light?”

+

+ “None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had + done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he is + as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though + comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart.” +

+

+ “I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is indeed a fact that he + was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss + Turner.” +

+

+ “Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, + insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a + lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years at + a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a + barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a + word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him + to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, + but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of + this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his + father, at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss + Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and + his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown + him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife + that he had spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not + know where he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good has come + out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he + is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over + utterly and has written to him to say that she has a husband already in + the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I + think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he + has suffered.” +

+

“But if he is innocent, who has done it?”

+

+ “Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. + One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the + pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son was + away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that the + murdered man was heard to cry ‘Cooee!’ before he knew that his son had + returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. And + now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave + all minor matters until to-morrow.” +

+

+ There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright + and cloudless. At nine o’clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, + and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool. +

+

+ “There is serious news this morning,” Lestrade observed. “It is said + that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of.” +

+

“An elderly man, I presume?” said Holmes.

+

+ “About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life + abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business + has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy’s, + and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he + gave him Hatherley Farm rent free.” +

+

“Indeed! That is interesting,” said Holmes.

+

+ “Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about + here speaks of his kindness to him.” +

+

+ “Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, + who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under such + obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner’s + daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a + very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all + else would follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner + himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not + deduce something from that?” +

+

+ “We have got to the deductions and the inferences,” said Lestrade, + winking at me. “I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without + flying away after theories and fancies.” +

+

+ “You are right,” said Holmes demurely; “you do find it very hard to + tackle the facts.” +

+

+ “Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to + get hold of,” replied Lestrade with some warmth. +

+

“And that is—”

+

+ “That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all + theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.” +

+

+ “Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,” said Holmes, laughing. + “But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the + left.” +

+

+ “Yes, that is it.” It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, + two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the + grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave + it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy + upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes’ request, + showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and + also a pair of the son’s, though not the pair which he had then had. + Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different + points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all + followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as + this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker + Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and + darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes + shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent + downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood + out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to + dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so + absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or + remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a + quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way + along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the + woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that + district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and amid + the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would + hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little detour + into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective + indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with the + interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions + was directed towards a definite end. +

+

+ The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty + yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and + the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined + it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which + marked the site of the rich landowner’s dwelling. On the Hatherley side + of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of + sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the + reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which + the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I + could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the + stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering + eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He + ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my + companion. +

+

“What did you go into the pool for?” he asked.

+

+ “I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or + other trace. But how on earth—” +

+

+ “Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward + twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it + vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I + been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over + it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have + covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are + three separate tracks of the same feet.” He drew out a lens and lay down + upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather + to himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy’s feet. Twice he was + walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked + and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he + saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father’s feet as he + paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as + the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! + tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come + again—of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?” + He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until + we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great + beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to + the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a + little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning + over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be + dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground + but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone + was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and + retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to + the highroad, where all traces were lost. +

+

+ “It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, returning to + his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on the right must be + the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and + perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our + luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently.” +

+

+ It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into + Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in + the wood. +

+

+ “This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. “The + murder was done with it.” +

+

“I see no marks.”

+

“There are none.”

+

“How do you know, then?”

+

+ “The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. + There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds + with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.” +

+

“And the murderer?”

+

+ “Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled + shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a + cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are + several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our + search.” +

+

+ Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he said. + “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed + British jury.” +

+

+ “Nous verrons,” answered Holmes calmly. “You work your own + method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall + probably return to London by the evening train.” +

+

“And leave your case unfinished?”

+

“No, finished.”

+

“But the mystery?”

+

“It is solved.”

+

“Who was the criminal, then?”

+

“The gentleman I describe.”

+

“But who is he?”

+

+ “Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a + populous neighbourhood.” +

+

+ Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical man,” he said, “and I + really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a + left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the + laughing-stock of Scotland Yard.” +

+

+ “All right,” said Holmes quietly. “I have given you the chance. Here are + your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave.” +

+

+ Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found + lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a + pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a + perplexing position. +

+

+ “Look here, Watson,” he said when the cloth was cleared “just sit down + in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don’t know quite + what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me + expound.” +

+

“Pray do so.”

+

+ “Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young + McCarthy’s narrative which struck us both instantly, although they + impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that + his father should, according to his account, cry ‘Cooee!’ before seeing + him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled + several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son’s + ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will + begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true.” +

+

“What of this ‘Cooee!’ then?”

+

+ “Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as + far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within + earshot. The ‘Cooee!’ was meant to attract the attention of whoever it + was that he had the appointment with. But ‘Cooee’ is a distinctly + Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a + strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at + Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia.” +

+

“What of the rat, then?”

+

+ Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out + on the table. “This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,” he said. “I + wired to Bristol for it last night.” He put his hand over part of the + map. “What do you read?” +

+

“ARAT,” I read.

+

“And now?” He raised his hand.

+

“BALLARAT.”

+

+ “Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only + caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of his + murderer. So and so, of Ballarat.” +

+

“It is wonderful!” I exclaimed.

+

+ “It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down + considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, + granting the son’s statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have + come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an + Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.” +

+

“Certainly.”

+

+ “And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be + approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly + wander.” +

+

“Quite so.”

+

+ “Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground I + gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as + to the personality of the criminal.” +

+

“But how did you gain them?”

+

+ “You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.” +

+

+ “His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his + stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.” +

+

“Yes, they were peculiar boots.”

+

“But his lameness?”

+

+ “The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his + left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped—he was lame.” +

+

“But his left-handedness.”

+

+ “You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the + surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and + yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a + left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview + between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of + a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to + pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some + attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 + different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found + the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss + where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are + rolled in Rotterdam.” +

+

“And the cigar-holder?”

+

+ “I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a + holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a + clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.” +

+

+ “Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this man from which he + cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if + you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which + all this points. The culprit is—” +

+

+ “Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our + sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. +

+

+ The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, + limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, and + yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed + that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character. His + tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows + combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his + face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his + nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a + glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. +

+

+ “Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes gently. “You had my note?” +

+

+ “Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see me + here to avoid scandal.” +

+

“I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.”

+

+ “And why did you wish to see me?” He looked across at my companion with + despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered. +

+

+ “Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. “It is so. + I know all about McCarthy.” +

+

+ The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help me!” he cried. “But I + would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I + would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes.” +

+

“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes gravely.

+

+ “I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would + break her heart—it will break her heart when she hears that I am + arrested.” +

+

“It may not come to that,” said Holmes.

+

“What?”

+

+ “I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who + required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young + McCarthy must be got off, however.” +

+

+ “I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had diabetes for years. My + doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would + rather die under my own roof than in a gaol.” +

+

+ Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a + bundle of paper before him. “Just tell us the truth,” he said. “I shall + jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. + Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young + McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely + needed.” +

+

+ “It’s as well,” said the old man; “it’s a question whether I shall live + to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare + Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been + a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell. +

+

+ “You didn’t know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I + tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His + grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. + I’ll tell you first how I came to be in his power. +

+

+ “It was in the early ’60’s at the diggings. I was a young chap then, + hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among + bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the + bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway + robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, + sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the + road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, + and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. +

+

+ “One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay + in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us, + so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the + first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the + swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very + man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared + him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to + remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, + and made our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted + from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and + respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the + market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up + for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife + died young she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a + baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else + had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to + make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip + upon me. +

+

+ “I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent + Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. +

+

+ “ ‘Here we are, Jack,’ says he, touching me on the arm; ‘we’ll be as + good as a family to you. There’s two of us, me and my son, and you can + have the keeping of us. If you don’t—it’s a fine, law-abiding country is + England, and there’s always a policeman within hail.’ +

+

+ “Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them + off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. + There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I + would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse + as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my + past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever + it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last + he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice. +

+

+ “His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was known + to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad should + step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would not have his + cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but + his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy + threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool + midway between our houses to talk it over. +

+

+ “When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a + cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I + listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come + uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little + regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the + streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear + should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap the bond? + I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of mind and + fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory + and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul + tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have + sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl + should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I + could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction than if he had + been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back his son; but I + had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced to go back to + fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true + story, gentlemen, of all that occurred.” +

+

+ “Well, it is not for me to judge you,” said Holmes as the old man signed + the statement which had been drawn out. “I pray that we may never be + exposed to such a temptation.” +

+

“I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?”

+

+ “In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will + soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. I + will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be + forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your + secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us.” +

+

+ “Farewell, then,” said the old man solemnly. “Your own deathbeds, when + they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you + have given to mine.” Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he + stumbled slowly from the room. +

+

+ “God help us!” said Holmes after a long silence. “Why does fate play + such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as + this that I do not think of Baxter’s words, and say, ‘There, but for the + grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.’ ” +

+

+ James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number + of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the + defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our + interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son + and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black + cloud which rests upon their past. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..95836ba --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch04.md @@ -0,0 +1,1131 @@ +--- +title: The Boscombe Valley Mystery +class: part +--- + +## The Boscombe Valley Mystery + +We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the +maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran +in this way: + +“Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from +the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. +Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. +Leave Paddington by the 11:15.” + +“What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. +“Will you go?” + +“I really don’t know what to say. I have a fairly long list at +present.” + +“Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking +a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, +and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ cases.” + +“I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained +through one of them,” I answered. “But if I am to go, I must pack +at once, for I have only half an hour.” + +My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the +effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were +few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a +cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock +Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt +figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey +travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. + +“It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said he. “It +makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on +whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless +or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall +get the tickets.” + +We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of +papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged +and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until +we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a +gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. + +“Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked. + +“Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.” + +“The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just +been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the +particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those +simple cases which are so extremely difficult.” + +“That sounds a little paradoxical.” + +“But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a +clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more +difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they +have established a very serious case against the son of the +murdered man.” + +“It is a murder, then?” + +“Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for +granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into +it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have +been able to understand it, in a very few words. + +“Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in +Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a +Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned +some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he +held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was +also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the +colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to +settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. +Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his +tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect +equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, +a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same +age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have +avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to +have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of +sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the +neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl. +Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the +least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the +families. Now for the facts. + +“On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at +Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the +Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out +of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been +out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told +the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of +importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came +back alive. + +“From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a +mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One +was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was +William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both +these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The +game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. +McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the +same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the +father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was +following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in +the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. + +“The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, +the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly +wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the +edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of +the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the +woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she +saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. +McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a +violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very +strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his +hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their +violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached +home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near +Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to +fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came +running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead +in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was +much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right +hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On +following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the +grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated +blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as +might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son’s +gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the +body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly +arrested, and a verdict of ‘wilful murder’ having been returned +at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the +magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next +Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out +before the coroner and the police-court.” + +“I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I remarked. “If +ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so +here.” + +“Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” answered Holmes +thoughtfully. “It may seem to point very straight to one thing, +but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it +pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something +entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case +looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very +possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people +in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the +daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his +innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect +in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in +his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the +case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are +flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly +digesting their breakfasts at home.” + +“I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious that you +will find little credit to be gained out of this case.” + +“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact,” he +answered, laughing. “Besides, we may chance to hit upon some +other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to +Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting +when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by +means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of +understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly +perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand +side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted +even so self-evident a thing as that.” + +“How on earth—” + +“My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness +which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this +season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less +and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until +it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the +jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated +than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking +at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a +result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and +inference. Therein lies my _métier_, and it is just possible that +it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before +us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in +the inquest, and which are worth considering.” + +“What are they?” + +“It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after +the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary +informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not +surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. +This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any +traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the +coroner’s jury.” + +“It was a confession,” I ejaculated. + +“No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence.” + +“Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at +least a most suspicious remark.” + +“On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest rift which I +can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, +he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the +circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared +surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I +should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such +surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, +and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His +frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent +man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and +firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not +unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of +his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day +so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and +even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so +important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The +self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark +appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a +guilty one.” + +I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighter +evidence,” I remarked. + +“So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.” + +“What is the young man’s own account of the matter?” + +“It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, +though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. +You will find it here, and may read it for yourself.” + +He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire +paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the +paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own +statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the +corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this +way: + +“Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called +and gave evidence as follows: ‘I had been away from home for +three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the +morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at +the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he +had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after +my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, +looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out +of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was +going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of +the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit +warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William +Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but +he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had +no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards +from the pool I heard a cry of “Cooee!” which was a usual signal +between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found +him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at +seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A +conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, +for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his +passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned +towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, +however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me +to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, +with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in +my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for +some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner’s lodge-keeper, +his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one +near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by +his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and +forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no +active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.’ + +“The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before +he died? + +“Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some +allusion to a rat. + +“The Coroner: What did you understand by that? + +“Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was +delirious. + +“The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father +had this final quarrel? + +“Witness: I should prefer not to answer. + +“The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. + +“Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can +assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which +followed. + +“The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point +out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case +considerably in any future proceedings which may arise. + +“Witness: I must still refuse. + +“The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee’ was a common +signal between you and your father? + +“Witness: It was. + +“The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw +you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? + +“Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. + +“A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions +when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father +fatally injured? + +“Witness: Nothing definite. + +“The Coroner: What do you mean? + +“Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into +the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet +I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay +upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be +something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. +When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was +gone. + +“ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?’ + +“ ‘Yes, it was gone.’ + +“ ‘You cannot say what it was?’ + +“ ‘No, I had a feeling something was there.’ + +“ ‘How far from the body?’ + +“ ‘A dozen yards or so.’ + +“ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood?’ + +“ ‘About the same.’ + +“ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen +yards of it?’ + +“ ‘Yes, but with my back towards it.’ + +“This concluded the examination of the witness.” + +“I see,” said I as I glanced down the column, “that the coroner +in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. +He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his +father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his +refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and +his singular account of his father’s dying words. They are all, +as he remarks, very much against the son.” + +Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon +the cushioned seat. “Both you and the coroner have been at some +pains,” said he, “to single out the very strongest points in the +young man’s favour. Don’t you see that you alternately give him +credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too +little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would +give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from +his own inner consciousness anything so _outré_ as a dying +reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, +sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what +this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that +hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and +not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the +scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be +there in twenty minutes.” + +It was nearly four o’clock when we at last, after passing through +the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, +found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A +lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for +us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and +leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic +surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of +Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a +room had already been engaged for us. + +“I have ordered a carriage,” said Lestrade as we sat over a cup +of tea. “I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be +happy until you had been on the scene of the crime.” + +“It was very nice and complimentary of you,” Holmes answered. “It +is entirely a question of barometric pressure.” + +Lestrade looked startled. “I do not quite follow,” he said. + +“How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud +in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need +smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country +hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I +shall use the carriage to-night.” + +Lestrade laughed indulgently. “You have, no doubt, already formed +your conclusions from the newspapers,” he said. “The case is as +plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer +it becomes. Still, of course, one can’t refuse a lady, and such a +very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your +opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing +which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my +soul! here is her carriage at the door.” + +He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the +most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her +violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her +cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her +overpowering excitement and concern. + +“Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” she cried, glancing from one to the +other of us, and finally, with a woman’s quick intuition, +fastening upon my companion, “I am so glad that you have come. I +have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn’t do it. +I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, +too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each +other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no +one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a +charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him.” + +“I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner,” said Sherlock Holmes. +“You may rely upon my doing all that I can.” + +“But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? +Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself +think that he is innocent?” + +“I think that it is very probable.” + +“There, now!” she cried, throwing back her head and looking +defiantly at Lestrade. “You hear! He gives me hopes.” + +Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am afraid that my colleague +has been a little quick in forming his conclusions,” he said. + +“But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did +it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the +reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because +I was concerned in it.” + +“In what way?” asked Holmes. + +“It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had +many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that +there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always +loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young +and has seen very little of life yet, and—and—well, he +naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there +were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them.” + +“And your father?” asked Holmes. “Was he in favour of such a +union?” + +“No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in +favour of it.” A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as +Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. + +“Thank you for this information,” said he. “May I see your father +if I call to-morrow?” + +“I am afraid the doctor won’t allow it.” + +“The doctor?” + +“Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for +years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken +to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his +nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive +who had known dad in the old days in Victoria.” + +“Ha! In Victoria! That is important.” + +“Yes, at the mines.” + +“Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner +made his money.” + +“Yes, certainly.” + +“Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to +me.” + +“You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you +will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do +tell him that I know him to be innocent.” + +“I will, Miss Turner.” + +“I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if +I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking.” She +hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we +heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. + +“I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade with dignity after a +few minutes’ silence. “Why should you raise up hopes which you +are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I +call it cruel.” + +“I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy,” said +Holmes. “Have you an order to see him in prison?” + +“Yes, but only for you and me.” + +“Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have +still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?” + +“Ample.” + +“Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very +slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours.” + +I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through +the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, +where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a +yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, +however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were +groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the +action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and +gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the +day. Supposing that this unhappy young man’s story were +absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely +unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between +the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, +drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was +something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the +nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? +I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which +contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon’s +deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left +parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been +shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot +upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from +behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when +seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it +did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his +back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call +Holmes’ attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying +reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be +delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become +delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how +he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my +brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident +of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the +murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his +overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to +return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was +kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a +tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I +did not wonder at Lestrade’s opinion, and yet I had so much faith +in Sherlock Holmes’ insight that I could not lose hope as long +as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young +McCarthy’s innocence. + +It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, +for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. + +“The glass still keeps very high,” he remarked as he sat down. +“It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able +to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his +very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not +wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young +McCarthy.” + +“And what did you learn from him?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Could he throw no light?” + +“None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew +who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced +now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very +quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, +sound at heart.” + +“I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is indeed a fact +that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as +this Miss Turner.” + +“Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, +insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was +only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away +five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get +into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a +registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can +imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not +doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows +to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort +which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, +at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss +Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, +and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would +have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with +his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in +Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that +point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, +for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious +trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and +has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the +Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I +think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all +that he has suffered.” + +“But if he is innocent, who has done it?” + +“Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two +points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with +someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his +son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would +return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry +‘Cooee!’ before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the +crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk +about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all +minor matters until to-morrow.” + +There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke +bright and cloudless. At nine o’clock Lestrade called for us with +the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe +Pool. + +“There is serious news this morning,” Lestrade observed. “It is +said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is +despaired of.” + +“An elderly man, I presume?” said Holmes. + +“About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life +abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This +business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend +of McCarthy’s, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I +have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free.” + +“Indeed! That is interesting,” said Holmes. + +“Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody +about here speaks of his kindness to him.” + +“Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this +McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have +been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of +marrying his son to Turner’s daughter, who is, presumably, +heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, +as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would +follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself +was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not +deduce something from that?” + +“We have got to the deductions and the inferences,” said +Lestrade, winking at me. “I find it hard enough to tackle facts, +Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies.” + +“You are right,” said Holmes demurely; “you do find it very hard +to tackle the facts.” + +“Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it +difficult to get hold of,” replied Lestrade with some warmth. + +“And that is—” + +“That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that +all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.” + +“Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,” said Holmes, +laughing. “But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley +Farm upon the left.” + +“Yes, that is it.” It was a widespread, comfortable-looking +building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches +of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless +chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight +of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, +when the maid, at Holmes’ request, showed us the boots which her +master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the +son’s, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured +these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes +desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed +the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. + +Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent +as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of +Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed +and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, +while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. +His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips +compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, +sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal +lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated +upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell +unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, +impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way +along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of +the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is +all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon +the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either +side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and +once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and +I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, +while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the +conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a +definite end. + +The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water +some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the +Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. +Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see +the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich +landowner’s dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods +grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass +twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds +which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which +the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, +that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the +fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager +face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read +upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking +up a scent, and then turned upon my companion. + +“What did you go into the pool for?” he asked. + +“I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon +or other trace. But how on earth—” + +“Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its +inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and +there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all +have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo +and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the +lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or +eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of +the same feet.” He drew out a lens and lay down upon his +waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to +himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy’s feet. Twice he +was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are +deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his +story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are +the father’s feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It +is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? +Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite +unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again—of course +that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?” He ran up +and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we +were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a +great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced +his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon +his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he +remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, +gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and +examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of +the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among +the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then +he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the +highroad, where all traces were lost. + +“It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, +returning to his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on +the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a +word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done +that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, +and I shall be with you presently.” + +It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove +back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he +had picked up in the wood. + +“This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. +“The murder was done with it.” + +“I see no marks.” + +“There are none.” + +“How do you know, then?” + +“The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few +days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It +corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other +weapon.” + +“And the murderer?” + +“Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears +thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian +cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his +pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be +enough to aid us in our search.” + +Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he +said. “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a +hard-headed British jury.” + +“_Nous verrons_,” answered Holmes calmly. “You work your own +method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, +and shall probably return to London by the evening train.” + +“And leave your case unfinished?” + +“No, finished.” + +“But the mystery?” + +“It is solved.” + +“Who was the criminal, then?” + +“The gentleman I describe.” + +“But who is he?” + +“Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a +populous neighbourhood.” + +Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical man,” he said, +“and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking +for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the +laughing-stock of Scotland Yard.” + +“All right,” said Holmes quietly. “I have given you the chance. +Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before +I leave.” + +Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where +we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in +thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds +himself in a perplexing position. + +“Look here, Watson,” he said when the cloth was cleared “just sit +down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don’t +know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a +cigar and let me expound.” + +“Pray do so.” + +“Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about +young McCarthy’s narrative which struck us both instantly, +although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One +was the fact that his father should, according to his account, +cry ‘Cooee!’ before seeing him. The other was his singular dying +reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but +that was all that caught the son’s ear. Now from this double +point our research must commence, and we will begin it by +presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true.” + +“What of this ‘Cooee!’ then?” + +“Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The +son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that +he was within earshot. The ‘Cooee!’ was meant to attract the +attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But +‘Cooee’ is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used +between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the +person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was +someone who had been in Australia.” + +“What of the rat, then?” + +Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened +it out on the table. “This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,” +he said. “I wired to Bristol for it last night.” He put his hand +over part of the map. “What do you read?” + +“ARAT,” I read. + +“And now?” He raised his hand. + +“BALLARAT.” + +“Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his +son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter +the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat.” + +“It is wonderful!” I exclaimed. + +“It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down +considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point +which, granting the son’s statement to be correct, was a +certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite +conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.” + +“Certainly.” + +“And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only +be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could +hardly wander.” + +“Quite so.” + +“Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the +ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that +imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal.” + +“But how did you gain them?” + +“You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of +trifles.” + +“His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length +of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.” + +“Yes, they were peculiar boots.” + +“But his lameness?” + +“The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than +his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped—he +was lame.” + +“But his left-handedness.” + +“You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded +by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from +immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can +that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind +that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had +even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special +knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian +cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and +written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different +varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the +ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss +where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety +which are rolled in Rotterdam.” + +“And the cigar-holder?” + +“I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he +used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the +cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.” + +“Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this man from which +he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as +truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the +direction in which all this points. The culprit is—” + +“Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of +our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. + +The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His +slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of +decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and +his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual +strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled +hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air +of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an +ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were +tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that +he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. + +“Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes gently. “You had my +note?” + +“Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to +see me here to avoid scandal.” + +“I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.” + +“And why did you wish to see me?” He looked across at my +companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question +was already answered. + +“Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. “It +is so. I know all about McCarthy.” + +The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help me!” he cried. +“But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you +my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at +the Assizes.” + +“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes gravely. + +“I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It +would break her heart—it will break her heart when she hears +that I am arrested.” + +“It may not come to that,” said Holmes. + +“What?” + +“I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter +who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. +Young McCarthy must be got off, however.” + +“I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had diabetes for +years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a +month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol.” + +Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand +and a bundle of paper before him. “Just tell us the truth,” he +said. “I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson +here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the +last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall +not use it unless it is absolutely needed.” + +“It’s as well,” said the old man; “it’s a question whether I +shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I +should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the +thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but +will not take me long to tell. + +“You didn’t know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil +incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of +such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, +and he has blasted my life. I’ll tell you first how I came to be +in his power. + +“It was in the early ’60’s at the diggings. I was a young chap +then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at +anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck +with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you +would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and +we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time +to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. +Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party +is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. + +“One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and +we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers +and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of +their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, +however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of +the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the +Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his +wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every +feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made +our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted +from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and +respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in +the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, +to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, +and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. +Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down +the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned +over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was +going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. + +“I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in +Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his +foot. + +“ ‘Here we are, Jack,’ says he, touching me on the arm; ‘we’ll be +as good as a family to you. There’s two of us, me and my son, and +you can have the keeping of us. If you don’t—it’s a fine, +law-abiding country is England, and there’s always a policeman +within hail.’ + +“Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking +them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land +ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; +turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my +elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more +afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he +wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without +question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing +which I could not give. He asked for Alice. + +“His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was +known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that +his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was +firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that +I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that +was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do +his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses +to talk it over. + +“When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I +smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. +But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in +me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my +daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she +were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I +and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a +man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and +a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, +I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! +Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I +did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, +I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl +should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more +than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction +than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought +back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I +was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in +my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that +occurred.” + +“Well, it is not for me to judge you,” said Holmes as the old man +signed the statement which had been drawn out. “I pray that we +may never be exposed to such a temptation.” + +“I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?” + +“In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you +will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the +Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is +condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be +seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or +dead, shall be safe with us.” + +“Farewell, then,” said the old man solemnly. “Your own deathbeds, +when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace +which you have given to mine.” Tottering and shaking in all his +giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. + +“God help us!” said Holmes after a long silence. “Why does fate +play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such +a case as this that I do not think of Baxter’s words, and say, +‘There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.’ ” + +James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a +number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and +submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven +months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is +every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily +together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their +past. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..19f0af9 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.html @@ -0,0 +1,875 @@ + + + + + The Five Orange Pips + + + + +
+

The Five Orange Pips

+

+ When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases + between the years ’82 and ’90, I am faced by so many which present + strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which + to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained + publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for + those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, + and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, + have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, + beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially + cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture + and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to + him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its + details and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some + account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection + with it which never have been, and probably never will be, entirely + cleared up. +

+

+ The year ’87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less + interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under this + one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol + Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in + the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with + the loss of the British barque Sophy Anderson, of the singular + adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of + the Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, + Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man’s watch, to prove + that it had been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the + deceased had gone to bed within that time—a deduction which was of the + greatest importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out + at some future date, but none of them present such singular features as + the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to + describe. +

+

+ It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had + set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the + rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of + great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the + instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of those + great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his + civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the + storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child + in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace + cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in + one of Clark Russell’s fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from + without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to + lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a + visit to her mother’s, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in + my old quarters at Baker Street. +

+

+ “Why,” said I, glancing up at my companion, “that was surely the bell. + Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” +

+

+ “Except yourself I have none,” he answered. “I do not encourage + visitors.” +

+

“A client, then?”

+

+ “If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on such + a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be + some crony of the landlady’s.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a + step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his long + arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon + which a newcomer must sit. +

+

“Come in!” said he.

+

+ The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, + well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy + in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and + his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he + had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I + could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man + who is weighed down with some great anxiety. +

+

+ “I owe you an apology,” he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his + eyes. “I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought some + traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber.” +

+

+ “Give me your coat and umbrella,” said Holmes. “They may rest here on + the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the + south-west, I see.” +

+

“Yes, from Horsham.”

+

+ “That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite + distinctive.” +

+

“I have come for advice.”

+

“That is easily got.”

+

“And help.”

+

“That is not always so easy.”

+

+ “I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast how you + saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal.” +

+

“Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.”

+

“He said that you could solve anything.”

+

“He said too much.”

+

“That you are never beaten.”

+

+ “I have been beaten four times—three times by men, and once by a woman.” +

+

“But what is that compared with the number of your successes?”

+

“It is true that I have been generally successful.”

+

“Then you may be so with me.”

+

+ “I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with + some details as to your case.” +

+

“It is no ordinary one.”

+

+ “None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal.” +

+

+ “And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have ever + listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than + those which have happened in my own family.” +

+

+ “You fill me with interest,” said Holmes. “Pray give us the essential + facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as to + those details which seem to me to be most important.” +

+

+ The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards + the blaze. +

+

+ “My name,” said he, “is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far + as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is a + hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must + go back to the commencement of the affair. +

+

+ “You must know that my grandfather had two sons—my uncle Elias and my + father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he + enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee of + the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such success + that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence. +

+

+ “My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and became + a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done very well. At + the time of the war he fought in Jackson’s army, and afterwards under + Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid down his arms my + uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained for three or four + years. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and took a small estate + in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very considerable fortune in the + States, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, + and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to + them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very + foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition. + During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever he set + foot in the town. He had a garden and two or three fields round his + house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks + on end he would never leave his room. He drank a great deal of brandy + and smoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want + any friends, not even his own brother. +

+

+ “He didn’t mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time when + he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be in the + year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He begged + my father to let me live with him and he was very kind to me in his way. + When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts + with me, and he would make me his representative both with the servants + and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was + quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I + liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his + privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he had a single + room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, + and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. With + a boy’s curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never + able to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as + would be expected in such a room. +

+

+ “One day—it was in March, 1883—a letter with a foreign stamp lay upon + the table in front of the colonel’s plate. It was not a common thing for + him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and + he had no friends of any sort. ‘From India!’ said he as he took it up, + ‘Pondicherry postmark! What can this be?’ Opening it hurriedly, out + there jumped five little dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his + plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips + at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, + his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he + still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ he shrieked, and then, ‘My + God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’ +

+

“ ‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried.

+

+ “ ‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, + leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw + scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter + K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried pips. + What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the + breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with + an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, + and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. +

+

+ “ ‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he + with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and + send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’ +

+

+ “I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step up + to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was a + mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box + stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, with + a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in + the morning upon the envelope. +

+

+ “ ‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave my + estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my + brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you + can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my + advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to give + you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t say what turn things are going + to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.’ +

+

+ “I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him. + The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression + upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind + without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off the + vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation grew + less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the usual + routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. He + drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. + Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon + the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy + and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a + revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, and + that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man or devil. + When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at + the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it + out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At + such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with + moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin. +

+

+ “Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse + your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken + sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to + search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay + at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the + water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his + known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew + how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade + myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, + however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of + some £14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.” +

+

+ “One moment,” Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, one of + the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date + of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his + supposed suicide.” +

+

+ “The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, + upon the night of May 2nd.” +

+

“Thank you. Pray proceed.”

+

+ “When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made + a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We + found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On + the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. + repeated upon it, and ‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’ + written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers + which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was + nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered + papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in America. Some of + them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and + had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during + the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned + with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the + carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North. +

+

+ “Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at + Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of + ’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp + cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, + sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange + pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at + what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked + very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself. +

+

“ ‘Why, what on earth does this mean, John?’ he stammered.

+

“My heart had turned to lead. ‘It is K. K. K.,’ said I.

+

+ “He looked inside the envelope. ‘So it is,’ he cried. ‘Here are the very + letters. But what is this written above them?’ +

+

+ “ ‘Put the papers on the sundial,’ I read, peeping over his shoulder. +

+

“ ‘What papers? What sundial?’ he asked.

+

+ “ ‘The sundial in the garden. There is no other,’ said I; ‘but the + papers must be those that are destroyed.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Pooh!’ said he, gripping hard at his courage. ‘We are in a civilised + land here, and we can’t have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the + thing come from?’ +

+

“ ‘From Dundee,’ I answered, glancing at the postmark.

+

+ “ ‘Some preposterous practical joke,’ said he. ‘What have I to do with + sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.’ +

+

“ ‘I should certainly speak to the police,’ I said.

+

“ ‘And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.’

+

“ ‘Then let me do so?’

+

+ “ ‘No, I forbid you. I won’t have a fuss made about such nonsense.’ +

+

+ “It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I + went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings. +

+

+ “On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from + home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command of + one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for + it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from + home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of his + absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at + once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound + in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I + hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered his + consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the + twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pit + unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of ‘death + from accidental causes.’ Carefully as I examined every fact connected + with his death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the + idea of murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no + robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet + I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was + well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him. +

+

+ “In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why I + did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that our + troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle’s life, + and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another. +

+

+ “It was in January, ’85, that my poor father met his end, and two years + and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived + happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passed + away from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I + had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow + fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my father.” +

+

+ The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning + to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips. +

+

+ “This is the envelope,” he continued. “The postmark is London—eastern + division. Within are the very words which were upon my father’s last + message: ‘K. K. K.’; and then ‘Put the papers on the sundial.’ ” +

+

“What have you done?” asked Holmes.

+

“Nothing.”

+

“Nothing?”

+

+ “To tell the truth”—he sank his face into his thin, white hands—“I have + felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake + is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, + inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard + against.” +

+

+ “Tut! tut!” cried Sherlock Holmes. “You must act, man, or you are lost. + Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair.” +

+

“I have seen the police.”

+

“Ah!”

+

+ “But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the + inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical + jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the + jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings.” +

+

+ Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. “Incredible imbecility!” he + cried. +

+

+ “They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the house + with me.” +

+

“Has he come with you to-night?”

+

“No. His orders were to stay in the house.”

+

Again Holmes raved in the air.

+

+ “Why did you come to me,” he cried, “and, above all, why did you not + come at once?” +

+

+ “I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast + about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you.” +

+

+ “It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted + before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which + you have placed before us—no suggestive detail which might help us?” +

+

+ “There is one thing,” said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat + pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he + laid it out upon the table. “I have some remembrance,” said he, “that on + the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, + unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular + colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am + inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, + fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped + destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us + much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The + writing is undoubtedly my uncle’s.” +

+

+ Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which + showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It + was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the following enigmatical + notices: +

+

“4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.

+

+ “7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and        John Swain, of St. + Augustine. +

+

“9th. McCauley cleared.

+

“10th. John Swain cleared.

+

“12th. Visited Paramore. All well.”

+

+ “Thank you!” said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our + visitor. “And now you must on no account lose another instant. We cannot + spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get home + instantly and act.” +

+

“What shall I do?”

+

+ “There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put + this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which you + have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other + papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one which + remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction + with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the + sundial, as directed. Do you understand?” +

+

“Entirely.”

+

+ “Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think + that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave, + while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the + pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up the + mystery and to punish the guilty parties.” +

+

+ “I thank you,” said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat. + “You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you + advise.” +

+

+ “Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the + meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are + threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?” +

+

“By train from Waterloo.”

+

+ “It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you + may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely.” +

+

“I am armed.”

+

“That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.”

+

“I shall see you at Horsham, then?”

+

+ “No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it.” +

+

+ “Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to + the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular.” + He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still + screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This + strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad + elements—blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale—and now to + have been reabsorbed by them once more. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk forward + and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit his pipe, + and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they + chased each other up to the ceiling. +

+

+ “I think, Watson,” he remarked at last, “that of all our cases we have + had none more fantastic than this.” +

+

“Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four.”

+

+ “Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to me + to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos.” +

+

+ “But have you,” I asked, “formed any definite conception as to what + these perils are?” +

+

“There can be no question as to their nature,” he answered.

+

+ “Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue this + unhappy family?” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of + his chair, with his finger-tips together. “The ideal reasoner,” he + remarked, “would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its + bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up + to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier + could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single + bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series + of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both + before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason + alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have + baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. + To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that + the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to + his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a + possession of all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education + and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so + impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge which is + likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in + my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early + days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion.” +

+

+ “Yes,” I answered, laughing. “It was a singular document. Philosophy, + astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany + variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region + within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, + sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, + swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I + think, were the main points of my analysis.” +

+

+ Holmes grinned at the last item. “Well,” he said, “I say now, as I said + then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all the + furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the + lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it. Now, for + such a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we need + certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K + of the + American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you. + Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced + from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that + Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Men at + his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly + the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English + provincial town. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the + idea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a + working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove + him from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that + by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and + his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?” +

+

+ “The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third + from London.” +

+

“From East London. What do you deduce from that?”

+

“They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship.”

+

+ “Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the + probability—the strong probability—is that the writer was on board of a + ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, + seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in Dundee it + was only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?” +

+

“A greater distance to travel.”

+

“But the letter had also a greater distance to come.”

+

“Then I do not see the point.”

+

+ “There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men + are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their singular + warning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You see + how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. If they + had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as + soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I + think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the + mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought + the writer.” +

+

“It is possible.”

+

+ “More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of + this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has + always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders to + travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore we + cannot count upon delay.” +

+

+ “Good God!” I cried. “What can it mean, this relentless persecution?” +

+

+ “The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to + the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite + clear that there must be more than one of them. A single man could not + have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner’s + jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been men of + resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the + holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the + initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society.” +

+

“But of what society?”

+

+ “Have you never—” said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking his + voice—“have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?” +

+

“I never have.”

+

+ Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. “Here it is,” + said he presently: +

+

+ “ ‘Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the + sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was + formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the + Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of + the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, + and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for + the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from + the country of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were + usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic + but generally recognised shape—a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts, + melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victim might + either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly from the country. If + he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon him, and + usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So perfect was the + organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there + is hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with + impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the + perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the + efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the + community in the South. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement + rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks + of the same sort since that date.’ +

+

+ “You will observe,” said Holmes, laying down the volume, “that the + sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance + of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well have been cause + and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more + implacable spirits upon their track. You can understand that this + register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the South, and + that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is + recovered.” +

+

“Then the page we have seen—”

+

+ “Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, ‘sent the pips + to A, B, and C’—that is, sent the society’s warning to them. Then there + are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and + finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, + I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I + believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do + what I have told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done + to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an + hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our + fellow men.” +

+
+

+ It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued + brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. + Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down. +

+

+ “You will excuse me for not waiting for you,” said he; “I have, I + foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young + Openshaw’s.” +

+

“What steps will you take?” I asked.

+

+ “It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I may + have to go down to Horsham, after all.” +

+

“You will not go there first?”

+

+ “No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid + will bring up your coffee.” +

+

+ As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced + my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart. +

+

“Holmes,” I cried, “you are too late.”

+

+ “Ah!” said he, laying down his cup, “I feared as much. How was it done?” + He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. +

+

+ “My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading ‘Tragedy Near + Waterloo Bridge.’ Here is the account: +

+

+ “ ‘Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H + Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a + splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and stormy, + so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was quite + impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given, and, by + the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually recovered. It + proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an + envelope which was found in his pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose + residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that he may have been + hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in + his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over + the edge of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The + body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the + deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which should + have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the + condition of the riverside landing-stages.’ ” +

+

+ We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken + than I had ever seen him. +

+

+ “That hurts my pride, Watson,” he said at last. “It is a petty feeling, + no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me + now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon this gang. + That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to + his death—!” He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in + uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a + nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands. +

+

+ “They must be cunning devils,” he exclaimed at last. “How could they + have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line to + the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a + night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in the + long run. I am going out now!” +

+

“To the police?”

+

+ “No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take + the flies, but not before.” +

+

+ All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the + evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not come + back yet. It was nearly ten o’clock before he entered, looking pale and + worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf + he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of + water. +

+

“You are hungry,” I remarked.

+

+ “Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since + breakfast.” +

+

“Nothing?”

+

“Not a bite. I had no time to think of it.”

+

“And how have you succeeded?”

+

“Well.”

+

“You have a clue?”

+

+ “I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not long + remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trade-mark + upon them. It is well thought of!” +

+

“What do you mean?”

+

+ He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he + squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrust + them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote “S. H. for J. + O.” Then he sealed it and addressed it to “Captain James Calhoun, Barque + Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia.” +

+

+ “That will await him when he enters port,” said he, chuckling. “It may + give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his + fate as Openshaw did before him.” +

+

“And who is this Captain Calhoun?”

+

“The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.”

+

“How did you trace it, then?”

+

+ He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates + and names. +

+

+ “I have spent the whole day,” said he, “over Lloyd’s registers and files + of the old papers, following the future career of every vessel which + touched at Pondicherry in January and February in ’83. There were + thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those + months. Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly attracted my + attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from + London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the + Union.” +

+

“Texas, I think.”

+

+ “I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an + American origin.” +

+

“What then?”

+

+ “I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque + Lone Star was there in January, ’85, my suspicion became a + certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the + port of London.” +

+

“Yes?”

+

+ “The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the + Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the + early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to + Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as the wind + is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not + very far from the Isle of Wight.” +

+

“What will you do, then?”

+

+ “Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, the + only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and + Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last + night. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. By + the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will + have carried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police of + Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge + of murder.” +

+

+ There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and the + murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which + would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves, + was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the equinoctial + gales that year. We waited long for news of the Lone Star of + Savannah, but none ever reached us. We did at last hear that somewhere + far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of a boat was seen + swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters “L. S.” carved upon + it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the + Lone Star. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7dbfe81 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch05.md @@ -0,0 +1,898 @@ +--- +title: The Five Orange Pips +class: part +--- + +## The Five Orange Pips + +When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes +cases between the years ’82 and ’90, I am faced by so many which +present strange and interesting features that it is no easy +matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, +have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have +not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend +possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of +these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his +analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without +an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and +have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and +surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to +him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable +in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted +to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are +points in connection with it which never have been, and probably +never will be, entirely cleared up. + +The year ’87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater +or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my +headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the +adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant +Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a +furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the +British barque _Sophy Anderson_, of the singular adventures of the +Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the +Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, +Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man’s watch, to +prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that +therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time—a +deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the +case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of +them present such singular features as the strange train of +circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe. + +It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales +had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had +screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that +even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced +to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and +to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which +shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like +untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew +higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in +the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the +fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the +other was deep in one of Clark Russell’s fine sea-stories until +the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, +and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of +the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a +few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker +Street. + +“Why,” said I, glancing up at my companion, “that was surely the +bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” + +“Except yourself I have none,” he answered. “I do not encourage +visitors.” + +“A client, then?” + +“If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out +on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more +likely to be some crony of the landlady’s.” + +Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there +came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He +stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and +towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit. + +“Come in!” said he. + +The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the +outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of +refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella +which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told +of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about +him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his +face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is +weighed down with some great anxiety. + +“I owe you an apology,” he said, raising his golden pince-nez to +his eyes. “I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have +brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug +chamber.” + +“Give me your coat and umbrella,” said Holmes. “They may rest +here on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from +the south-west, I see.” + +“Yes, from Horsham.” + +“That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is +quite distinctive.” + +“I have come for advice.” + +“That is easily got.” + +“And help.” + +“That is not always so easy.” + +“I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast +how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal.” + +“Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards.” + +“He said that you could solve anything.” + +“He said too much.” + +“That you are never beaten.” + +“I have been beaten four times—three times by men, and once by a +woman.” + +“But what is that compared with the number of your successes?” + +“It is true that I have been generally successful.” + +“Then you may be so with me.” + +“I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me +with some details as to your case.” + +“It is no ordinary one.” + +“None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of +appeal.” + +“And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you +have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of +events than those which have happened in my own family.” + +“You fill me with interest,” said Holmes. “Pray give us the +essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards +question you as to those details which seem to me to be most +important.” + +The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out +towards the blaze. + +“My name,” said he, “is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, +as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful +business. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an +idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the +affair. + +“You must know that my grandfather had two sons—my uncle Elias +and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, +which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He +was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business +met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire +upon a handsome competence. + +“My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and +became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done +very well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson’s army, +and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When +Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where +he remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came +back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. +He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and his +reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and his +dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to +them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very +foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring +disposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I +doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two or +three fields round his house, and there he would take his +exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave +his room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very +heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any +friends, not even his own brother. + +“He didn’t mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the +time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This +would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years +in England. He begged my father to let me live with him and he +was very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to be +fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would +make me his representative both with the servants and with the +tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite +master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I +liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in +his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he +had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was +invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or +anyone else to enter. With a boy’s curiosity I have peeped +through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a +collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such +a room. + +“One day—it was in March, 1883—a letter with a foreign stamp +lay upon the table in front of the colonel’s plate. It was not a +common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all +paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. ‘From +India!’ said he as he took it up, ‘Pondicherry postmark! What can +this be?’ Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little +dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began to +laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight +of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his +skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he +still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ he shrieked, and +then, ‘My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’ + +“ ‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried. + +“ ‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his +room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope +and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the +gum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else +save the five dried pips. What could be the reason of his +overpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as I +ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key, +which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small +brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. + +“ ‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ +said he with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my +room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’ + +“I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to +step up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the +grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned +paper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As I +glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was +printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the +envelope. + +“ ‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave +my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to +my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to +you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you +cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest +enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t +say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paper +where Mr. Fordham shows you.’ + +“I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with +him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest +impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every +way in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet I +could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left +behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed +and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I +could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever, +and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his +time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the +inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy +and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a +revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, +and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by +man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would +rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, +like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror +which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seen +his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it +were new raised from a basin. + +“Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to +abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those +drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when +we went to search for him, face downward in a little +green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There +was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, +so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, +brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew how he winced +from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself +that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, +however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and +of some £14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.” + +“One moment,” Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, +one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me +have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and +the date of his supposed suicide.” + +“The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks +later, upon the night of May 2nd.” + +“Thank you. Pray proceed.” + +“When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my +request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been +always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its +contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a +paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and +‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’ written beneath. +These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had +been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was +nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many +scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in +America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had +done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. +Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern +states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had +evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag +politicians who had been sent down from the North. + +“Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at +Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the +January of ’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my +father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the +breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened +envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the +outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what +he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked +very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon +himself. + +“ ‘Why, what on earth does this mean, John?’ he stammered. + +“My heart had turned to lead. ‘It is K. K. K.,’ said I. + +“He looked inside the envelope. ‘So it is,’ he cried. ‘Here are +the very letters. But what is this written above them?’ + +“ ‘Put the papers on the sundial,’ I read, peeping over his +shoulder. + +“ ‘What papers? What sundial?’ he asked. + +“ ‘The sundial in the garden. There is no other,’ said I; ‘but the +papers must be those that are destroyed.’ + +“ ‘Pooh!’ said he, gripping hard at his courage. ‘We are in a +civilised land here, and we can’t have tomfoolery of this kind. +Where does the thing come from?’ + +“ ‘From Dundee,’ I answered, glancing at the postmark. + +“ ‘Some preposterous practical joke,’ said he. ‘What have I to do +with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such +nonsense.’ + +“ ‘I should certainly speak to the police,’ I said. + +“ ‘And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.’ + +“ ‘Then let me do so?’ + +“ ‘No, I forbid you. I won’t have a fuss made about such +nonsense.’ + +“It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate +man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of +forebodings. + +“On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went +from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is +in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad +that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from +danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in +error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram +from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had +fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the +neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I +hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered +his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from +Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, +and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in +bringing in a verdict of ‘death from accidental causes.’ +Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, I +was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of +murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no +robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. +And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, +and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been +woven round him. + +“In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me +why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well +convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an +incident in my uncle’s life, and that the danger would be as +pressing in one house as in another. + +“It was in January, ’85, that my poor father met his end, and two +years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time +I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that +this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended +with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, +however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in +which it had come upon my father.” + +The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and +turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried +orange pips. + +“This is the envelope,” he continued. “The postmark is +London—eastern division. Within are the very words which were +upon my father’s last message: ‘K. K. K.’; and then ‘Put the +papers on the sundial.’ ” + +“What have you done?” asked Holmes. + +“Nothing.” + +“Nothing?” + +“To tell the truth”—he sank his face into his thin, white +hands—“I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor +rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in +the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight +and no precautions can guard against.” + +“Tut! tut!” cried Sherlock Holmes. “You must act, man, or you are +lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for +despair.” + +“I have seen the police.” + +“Ah!” + +“But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that +the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all +practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really +accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with +the warnings.” + +Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. “Incredible +imbecility!” he cried. + +“They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in +the house with me.” + +“Has he come with you to-night?” + +“No. His orders were to stay in the house.” + +Again Holmes raved in the air. + +“Why did you come to me,” he cried, “and, above all, why did you +not come at once?” + +“I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major +Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to +you.” + +“It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have +acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than +that which you have placed before us—no suggestive detail which +might help us?” + +“There is one thing,” said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat +pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted +paper, he laid it out upon the table. “I have some remembrance,” +said he, “that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I +observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the +ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet +upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it +may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from +among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond +the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think +myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is +undoubtedly my uncle’s.” + +Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, +which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from +a book. It was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the +following enigmatical notices: + +“4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. + +“7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and        John Swain, of St. +Augustine. + +“9th. McCauley cleared. + +“10th. John Swain cleared. + +“12th. Visited Paramore. All well.” + +“Thank you!” said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it +to our visitor. “And now you must on no account lose another +instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told +me. You must get home instantly and act.” + +“What shall I do?” + +“There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must +put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass +box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say +that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that +this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such +words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you +must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do +you understand?” + +“Entirely.” + +“Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I +think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our +web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first +consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens +you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the +guilty parties.” + +“I thank you,” said the young man, rising and pulling on his +overcoat. “You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall +certainly do as you advise.” + +“Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in +the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that +you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you +go back?” + +“By train from Waterloo.” + +“It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that +you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too +closely.” + +“I am armed.” + +“That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case.” + +“I shall see you at Horsham, then?” + +“No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek +it.” + +“Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news +as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every +particular.” He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside +the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered +against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come +to us from amid the mad elements—blown in upon us like a sheet +of sea-weed in a gale—and now to have been reabsorbed by them +once more. + +Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk +forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he +lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue +smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. + +“I think, Watson,” he remarked at last, “that of all our cases we +have had none more fantastic than this.” + +“Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four.” + +“Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems +to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the +Sholtos.” + +“But have you,” I asked, “formed any definite conception as to +what these perils are?” + +“There can be no question as to their nature,” he answered. + +“Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue +this unhappy family?” + +Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the +arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. “The ideal +reasoner,” he remarked, “would, when he had once been shown a +single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the +chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which +would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole +animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who +has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents +should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both +before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the +reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study +which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the +aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest +pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to +utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this +in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all +knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and +encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so +impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge +which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have +endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one +occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits +in a very precise fashion.” + +“Yes,” I answered, laughing. “It was a singular document. +Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I +remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the +mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry +eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime +records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and +self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the +main points of my analysis.” + +Holmes grinned at the last item. “Well,” he said, “I say now, as +I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic +stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the +rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he +can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which +has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster +all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the +_American Encyclopaedia_ which stands upon the shelf beside you. +Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be +deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong +presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for +leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their +habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for +the lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love +of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of +someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis +that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from +America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by +considering the formidable letters which were received by himself +and his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those +letters?” + +“The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the +third from London.” + +“From East London. What do you deduce from that?” + +“They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship.” + +“Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that +the probability—the strong probability—is that the writer was +on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the +case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and +its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. +Does that suggest anything?” + +“A greater distance to travel.” + +“But the letter had also a greater distance to come.” + +“Then I do not see the point.” + +“There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man +or men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send +their singular warning or token before them when starting upon +their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign +when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a +steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. +But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those +seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which +brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the +writer.” + +“It is possible.” + +“More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly +urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to +caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which +it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one +comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay.” + +“Good God!” I cried. “What can it mean, this relentless +persecution?” + +“The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital +importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think +that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. +A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way +as to deceive a coroner’s jury. There must have been several in +it, and they must have been men of resource and determination. +Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. +In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an +individual and becomes the badge of a society.” + +“But of what society?” + +“Have you never—” said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and +sinking his voice—“have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?” + +“I never have.” + +Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. “Here it +is,” said he presently: + +“ ‘Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to +the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret +society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the +Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local +branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, +Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was +used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of +the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country +of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually +preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic +but generally recognised shape—a sprig of oak-leaves in some +parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this +the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might +fly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would +unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and +unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the +society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a +case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with +impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the +perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite +of the efforts of the United States government and of the better +classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year +1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have +been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.’ + +“You will observe,” said Holmes, laying down the volume, “that +the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the +disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may +well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his +family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. +You can understand that this register and diary may implicate +some of the first men in the South, and that there may be many +who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered.” + +“Then the page we have seen—” + +“Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, ‘sent +the pips to A, B, and C’—that is, sent the society’s warning to +them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or +left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a +sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let +some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only +chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have +told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done +to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for +half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable +ways of our fellow men.” + +
+ +It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a +subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the +great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came +down. + +“You will excuse me for not waiting for you,” said he; “I have, I +foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of +young Openshaw’s.” + +“What steps will you take?” I asked. + +“It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. +I may have to go down to Horsham, after all.” + +“You will not go there first?” + +“No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the +maid will bring up your coffee.” + +As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and +glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a +chill to my heart. + +“Holmes,” I cried, “you are too late.” + +“Ah!” said he, laying down his cup, “I feared as much. How was it +done?” He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. + +“My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading ‘Tragedy +Near Waterloo Bridge.’ Here is the account: + +“ ‘Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H +Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and +a splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and +stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it +was quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was +given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was +eventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman +whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his +pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. +It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch +the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and +the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge +of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The body +exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that +the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, +which should have the effect of calling the attention of the +authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages.’ ” + +We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and +shaken than I had ever seen him. + +“That hurts my pride, Watson,” he said at last. “It is a petty +feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal +matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my +hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that +I should send him away to his death—!” He sprang from his chair +and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a +flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and +unclasping of his long thin hands. + +“They must be cunning devils,” he exclaimed at last. “How could +they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the +direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too +crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, +we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!” + +“To the police?” + +“No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may +take the flies, but not before.” + +All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in +the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes +had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o’clock before he +entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, +and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, +washing it down with a long draught of water. + +“You are hungry,” I remarked. + +“Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since +breakfast.” + +“Nothing?” + +“Not a bite. I had no time to think of it.” + +“And how have you succeeded?” + +“Well.” + +“You have a clue?” + +“I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not +long remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish +trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!” + +“What do you mean?” + +He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he +squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and +thrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote +“S. H. for J. O.” Then he sealed it and addressed it to “Captain +James Calhoun, Barque _Lone Star_, Savannah, Georgia.” + +“That will await him when he enters port,” said he, chuckling. +“It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a +precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him.” + +“And who is this Captain Calhoun?” + +“The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first.” + +“How did you trace it, then?” + +He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with +dates and names. + +“I have spent the whole day,” said he, “over Lloyd’s registers +and files of the old papers, following the future career of every +vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in +’83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were +reported there during those months. Of these, one, the _Lone Star_, +instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported +as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to +one of the states of the Union.” + +“Texas, I think.” + +“I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must +have an American origin.” + +“What then?” + +“I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque +_Lone Star_ was there in January, ’85, my suspicion became a +certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present +in the port of London.” + +“Yes?” + +“The _Lone Star_ had arrived here last week. I went down to the +Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by +the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired +to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and +as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the +Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight.” + +“What will you do, then?” + +“Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I +learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are +Finns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away +from the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who has +been loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship +reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and +the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these +three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder.” + +There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, +and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the +orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as +resolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very +severe were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for +news of the _Lone Star_ of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We +did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a +shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough +of a wave, with the letters “L. S.” carved upon it, and that is +all which we shall ever know of the fate of the _Lone Star_. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..deeb618 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.html @@ -0,0 +1,1065 @@ + + + + + The Man With the Twisted Lip + + + + +
+

The Man With the Twisted Lip

+

+ Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal of the + Theological College of St. George’s, was much addicted to opium. The + habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freak when he + was at college; for having read De Quincey’s description of his dreams + and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt + to produce the same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that + the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many years + he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror and + pity to his friends and relatives. I can see him now, with yellow, pasty + face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the + wreck and ruin of a noble man. +

+

+ One night—it was in June, ’89—there came a ring to my bell, about the + hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up + in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a + little face of disappointment. +

+

“A patient!” said she. “You’ll have to go out.”

+

I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day.

+

+ We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon + the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some + dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. +

+

+ “You will excuse my calling so late,” she began, and then, suddenly + losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife’s + neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. “Oh, I’m in such trouble!” she + cried; “I do so want a little help.” +

+

+ “Why,” said my wife, pulling up her veil, “it is Kate Whitney. How you + startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in.” +

+

+ “I didn’t know what to do, so I came straight to you.” That was always + the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a + light-house. +

+

+ “It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and + water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should you + rather that I sent James off to bed?” +

+

+ “Oh, no, no! I want the doctor’s advice and help, too. It’s about Isa. + He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about him!” +

+

+ It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband’s + trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school + companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find. + Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that we could bring + him back to her? +

+

+ It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he + had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest + east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined to one + day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. But + now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, + doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or + sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, + at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How + could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and + pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? +

+

+ There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. Might + I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought, why + should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney’s medical adviser, and as such + I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I were alone. I + promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab within two + hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me. And so in + ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, + and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed + to me at the time, though the future only could show how strange it was + to be. +

+

+ But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. + Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which + line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge. Between a + slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps leading + down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I + was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn + hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the + light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made + my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium + smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an + emigrant ship. +

+

+ Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in + strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown back, + and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark, lack-lustre eye + turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadows there glimmered + little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as the burning + poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay + silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together in a + strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and + then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own + thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At the + farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a + three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old man, with his jaw + resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon his knees, staring into + the fire. +

+

+ As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me + and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. +

+

+ “Thank you. I have not come to stay,” said I. “There is a friend of mine + here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.” +

+

+ There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering + through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring + out at me. +

+

+ “My God! It’s Watson,” said he. He was in a pitiable state of reaction, + with every nerve in a twitter. “I say, Watson, what o’clock is it?” +

+

“Nearly eleven.”

+

“Of what day?”

+

“Of Friday, June 19th.”

+

+ “Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What d’you + want to frighten a chap for?” He sank his face onto his arms and began + to sob in a high treble key. +

+

+ “I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting this two + days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!” +

+

+ “So I am. But you’ve got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a few + hours, three pipes, four pipes—I forget how many. But I’ll go home with + you. I wouldn’t frighten Kate—poor little Kate. Give me your hand! Have + you a cab?” +

+

“Yes, I have one waiting.”

+

+ “Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe, + Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself.” +

+

+ I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, + holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, + and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall man who sat by + the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice + whispered, “Walk past me, and then look back at me.” The words fell + quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could only have come + from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, + very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down + from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from + his fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my + self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of astonishment. + He had turned his back so that none could see him but I. His form had + filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had regained their + fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was + none other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion to me to + approach him, and instantly, as he turned his face half round to the + company once more, subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. +

+

“Holmes!” I whispered, “what on earth are you doing in this den?”

+

+ “As low as you can,” he answered; “I have excellent ears. If you would + have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I + should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you.” +

+

“I have a cab outside.”

+

+ “Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he appears + to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to + send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in + your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shall be with you in five + minutes.” +

+

+ It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’ requests, for they + were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet + air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in + the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, I + could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in + one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his + existence. In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney’s bill, + led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a + very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, and I + was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two streets he + shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. Then, glancing + quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit + of laughter. +

+

+ “I suppose, Watson,” said he, “that you imagine that I have added + opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses + on which you have favoured me with your medical views.” +

+

“I was certainly surprised to find you there.”

+

“But not more so than I to find you.”

+

“I came to find a friend.”

+

“And I to find an enemy.”

+

“An enemy?”

+

+ “Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey. + Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I + have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as + I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my life would + not have been worth an hour’s purchase; for I have used it before now + for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to + have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that + building, near the corner of Paul’s Wharf, which could tell some strange + tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights.” +

+

“What! You do not mean bodies?”

+

+ “Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 for every + poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest + murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair + has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here.” He + put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly—a signal + which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed + shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses’ hoofs. +

+

+ “Now, Watson,” said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the + gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side + lanterns. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” +

+

“If I can be of use.”

+

+ “Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. + My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.” +

+

“The Cedars?”

+

+ “Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair’s house. I am staying there while I conduct + the inquiry.” +

+

“Where is it, then?”

+

“Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.”

+

“But I am all in the dark.”

+

+ “Of course you are. You’ll know all about it presently. Jump up here. + All right, John; we shall not need you. Here’s half a crown. Look out + for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!” +

+

+ He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the + endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened + gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with + the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another dull + wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, + regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some + belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the + sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts + of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his + breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat beside + him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which seemed to tax + his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in upon the current of his + thoughts. We had driven several miles, and were beginning to get to the + fringe of the belt of suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged + his shoulders, and lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has + satisfied himself that he is acting for the best. +

+

+ “You have a grand gift of silence, Watson,” said he. “It makes you quite + invaluable as a companion. ’Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to + have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant. I + was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman to-night when + she meets me at the door.” +

+

“You forget that I know nothing about it.”

+

+ “I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we get + to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get nothing to + go upon. There’s plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can’t get the end of + it into my hand. Now, I’ll state the case clearly and concisely to you, + Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me.” +

+

“Proceed, then.”

+

+ “Some years ago—to be definite, in May, 1884—there came to Lee a + gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of + money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and + lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the + neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, by + whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was interested + in several companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, + returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is + now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, a good + husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all + who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as + far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to £88 10s., while he has + £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank. There is + no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing + upon his mind. +

+

+ “Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than + usual, remarking before he started that he had two important commissions + to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks. + Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram upon this same + Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect that a small + parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting + for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are + well up in your London, you will know that the office of the company is + in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you + found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for the City, + did some shopping, proceeded to the company’s office, got her packet, + and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her + way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?” +

+

“It is very clear.”

+

+ “If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. Clair + walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as she did + not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While she was + walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation + or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and, + as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The + window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes as + being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then + vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had + been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One singular + point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some + dark coat, such as he had started to town in, he had on neither collar + nor necktie. +

+

+ “Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the + steps—for the house was none other than the opium den in which you found + me to-night—and running through the front room she attempted to ascend + the stairs which led to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, + however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken, who thrust + her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her + out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, + she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street + a number of constables with an inspector, all on their way to their + beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of + the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the + room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no sign of him + there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found + save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home + there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in + the front room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that + the inspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. + St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal + box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a + cascade of children’s bricks. It was the toy which he had promised to + bring home. +

+

+ “This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, + made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were + carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime. The + front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small + bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. Between + the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low + tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of + water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On + examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and + several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the + bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the + clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of his coat. His + boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch—all were there. There were no + signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no other + traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he must apparently + have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous + bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself + by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the + tragedy. +

+

+ “And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in + the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents, + but as, by Mrs. St. Clair’s story, he was known to have been at the foot + of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband’s appearance at + the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to the + crime. His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that + he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that + he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing + gentleman’s clothes. +

+

+ “So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives + upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the last + human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His name is Hugh + Boone, and his hideous face is one which is familiar to every man who + goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, though in order to + avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. + Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, + there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it + is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-legged with his tiny + stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous spectacle a small + rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the + pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more than once before + ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been + surprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His + appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without + observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a + horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge + of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark + eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair, all + mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does + his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which + may be thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now + learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the + last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest.” +

+

+ “But a cripple!” said I. “What could he have done single-handed against + a man in the prime of life?” +

+

+ “He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other + respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely your + medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is + often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others.” +

+

“Pray continue your narrative.”

+

+ “Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, + and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her presence could + be of no help to them in their investigations. Inspector Barton, who had + charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the premises, but + without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter. One + mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was + allowed some few minutes during which he might have communicated with + his friend the Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was + seized and searched, without anything being found which could + incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his + right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been + cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from there, + adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that the + stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same + source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair and + swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a mystery + to him as to the police. As to Mrs. St. Clair’s assertion that she had + actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she must have + been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the + police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in the + hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. +

+

+ “And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had + feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair’s coat, and not Neville St. + Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do you think + they found in the pockets?” +

+

“I cannot imagine.”

+

+ “No, I don’t think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies + and half-pennies—421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It was no wonder that + it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a different + matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house. It + seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the + stripped body had been sucked away into the river.” +

+

+ “But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. + Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?” +

+

+ “No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that + this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there is + no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then? It + would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the + tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of + throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not + sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when + the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard + from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. + There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard, + where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all + the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure + of the coat’s sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same + with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and + only just had time to close the window when the police appeared.” +

+

“It certainly sounds feasible.”

+

+ “Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. + Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it + could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against him. + He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life + appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter + stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved—what + Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when + there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his + disappearance—are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I + cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first + glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.” +

+

+ While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events, + we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the + last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a + country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished, however, we + drove through two scattered villages, where a few lights still glimmered + in the windows. +

+

+ “We are on the outskirts of Lee,” said my companion. “We have touched on + three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex, + passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light + among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman + whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink + of our horse’s feet.” +

+

+ “But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?” I asked. +

+

+ “Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St. + Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest + assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and + colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her + husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!” +

+

+ We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own + grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse’s head, and springing + down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to + the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde + woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de + soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She + stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon + the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her + head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing + question. +

+

+ “Well?” she cried, “well?” And then, seeing that there were two of us, + she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my + companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. +

+

“No good news?”

+

“None.”

+

“No bad?”

+

“No.”

+

+ “Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a + long day.” +

+

+ “This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in + several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to + bring him out and associate him with this investigation.” +

+

+ “I am delighted to see you,” said she, pressing my hand warmly. “You + will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our + arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon + us.” +

+

+ “My dear madam,” said I, “I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I + can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any + assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed + happy.” +

+

+ “Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said the lady as we entered a well-lit + dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, “I + should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I + beg that you will give a plain answer.” +

+

“Certainly, madam.”

+

+ “Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to + fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.” +

+

“Upon what point?”

+

“In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?”

+

+ Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. “Frankly, + now!” she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him + as he leaned back in a basket-chair. +

+

“Frankly, then, madam, I do not.”

+

“You think that he is dead?”

+

“I do.”

+

“Murdered?”

+

“I don’t say that. Perhaps.”

+

“And on what day did he meet his death?”

+

“On Monday.”

+

+ “Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is + that I have received a letter from him to-day.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised. +

+

“What!” he roared.

+

+ “Yes, to-day.” She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in + the air. +

+

“May I see it?”

+

“Certainly.”

+

+ He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the + table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I had left my + chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very + coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and with the date + of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was considerably + after midnight. +

+

+ “Coarse writing,” murmured Holmes. “Surely this is not your husband’s + writing, madam.” +

+

“No, but the enclosure is.”

+

+ “I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and + inquire as to the address.” +

+

“How can you tell that?”

+

+ “The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. + The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has + been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none + would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and there + has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean + that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there + is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! there + has been an enclosure here!” +

+

“Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring.”

+

“And you are sure that this is your husband’s hand?”

+

“One of his hands.”

+

“One?”

+

+ “His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing, + and yet I know it well.” +

+

+ “ ‘Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge + error which it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in + patience.—NEVILLE.’ Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, + octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man + with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very + much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no + doubt that it is your husband’s hand, madam?” +

+

“None. Neville wrote those words.”

+

+ “And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the + clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the danger is + over.” +

+

“But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes.”

+

+ “Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, + after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from him.” +

+

“No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!”

+

+ “Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted + to-day.” +

+

“That is possible.”

+

“If so, much may have happened between.”

+

+ “Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well + with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if + evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself + in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly + with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think that + I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?” +

+

+ “I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be + more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this + letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate + your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why + should he remain away from you?” +

+

“I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.”

+

“And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?”

+

“No.”

+

“And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?”

+

“Very much so.”

+

“Was the window open?”

+

“Yes.”

+

“Then he might have called to you?”

+

“He might.”

+

“He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?”

+

“Yes.”

+

“A call for help, you thought?”

+

“Yes. He waved his hands.”

+

+ “But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the + unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?” +

+

“It is possible.”

+

“And you thought he was pulled back?”

+

“He disappeared so suddenly.”

+

+ “He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the room?” +

+

+ “No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the + Lascar was at the foot of the stairs.” +

+

+ “Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary + clothes on?” +

+

+ “But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat.” +

+

“Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?”

+

“Never.”

+

“Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?”

+

“Never.”

+

+ “Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which I + wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and + then retire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow.” +

+

+ A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our + disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after my + night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had + an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a + week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at + it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced + himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that + he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and + waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about + the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from the sofa and + armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which + he perched himself cross-legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box + of matches laid out in front of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw + him sitting there, an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed + vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from + him, silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set + aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat + when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found the summer + sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still between his lips, the + smoke still curled upward, and the room was full of a dense tobacco + haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag which I had seen upon the + previous night. +

+

“Awake, Watson?” he asked.

+

“Yes.”

+

“Game for a morning drive?”

+

“Certainly.”

+

+ “Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable-boy + sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out.” He chuckled to himself as + he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre + thinker of the previous night. +

+

+ As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was + stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished + when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the + horse. +

+

+ “I want to test a little theory of mine,” said he, pulling on his boots. + “I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of + the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to + Charing Cross. But I think I have the key of the affair now.” +

+

“And where is it?” I asked, smiling.

+

+ “In the bathroom,” he answered. “Oh, yes, I am not joking,” he + continued, seeing my look of incredulity. “I have just been there, and I + have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, my + boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock.” +

+

+ We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the + bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the + half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we + dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing + in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side + were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream. +

+

+ “It has been in some points a singular case,” said Holmes, flicking the + horse on into a gallop. “I confess that I have been as blind as a mole, + but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all.” +

+

+ In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from + their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. + Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and + dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found + ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, + and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the + horse’s head while the other led us in. +

+

“Who is on duty?” asked Holmes.

+

“Inspector Bradstreet, sir.”

+

+ “Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?” A tall, stout official had come down the + stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. “I wish to + have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet.” “Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step + into my room here.” It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger + upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector + sat down at his desk. +

+

“What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?”

+

+ “I called about that beggarman, Boone—the one who was charged with being + concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee.” +

+

“Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries.”

+

“So I heard. You have him here?”

+

“In the cells.”

+

“Is he quiet?”

+

“Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel.”

+

“Dirty?”

+

+ “Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is as + black as a tinker’s. Well, when once his case has been settled, he will + have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you would agree + with me that he needed it.” +

+

“I should like to see him very much.”

+

+ “Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your bag.” +

+

“No, I think that I’ll take it.”

+

+ “Very good. Come this way, if you please.” He led us down a passage, + opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a + whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. +

+

+ “The third on the right is his,” said the inspector. “Here it is!” He + quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced + through. +

+

“He is asleep,” said he. “You can see him very well.”

+

+ We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face + towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a + middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a coloured + shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He was, as the + inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered his + face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old + scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had + turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in + a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his + eyes and forehead. +

+

“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” said the inspector.

+

+ “He certainly needs a wash,” remarked Holmes. “I had an idea that he + might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.” He opened + the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very + large bath-sponge. +

+

“He! he! You are a funny one,” chuckled the inspector.

+

+ “Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very + quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure.” +

+

+ “Well, I don’t know why not,” said the inspector. “He doesn’t look a + credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?” He slipped his key into the + lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half turned, + and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to + the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously + across and down the prisoner’s face. +

+

+ “Let me introduce you,” he shouted, “to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, + in the county of Kent.” +

+

+ Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man’s face peeled off + under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown + tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and the + twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch + brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was + a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, + rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then + suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and threw + himself down with his face to the pillow. +

+

+ “Great heavens!” cried the inspector, “it is, indeed, the missing man. I + know him from the photograph.” +

+

+ The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself + to his destiny. “Be it so,” said he. “And pray what am I charged with?” +

+

+ “With making away with Mr. Neville St.— Oh, come, you can’t be charged + with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it,” said the + inspector with a grin. “Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the + force, but this really takes the cake.” +

+

+ “If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has + been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained.” +

+

+ “No crime, but a very great error has been committed,” said Holmes. “You + would have done better to have trusted your wife.” +

+

+ “It was not the wife; it was the children,” groaned the prisoner. “God + help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What an + exposure! What can I do?” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly + on the shoulder. +

+

+ “If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up,” said he, “of + course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, if you + convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against + you, I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find + their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make + notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the proper + authorities. The case would then never go into court at all.” +

+

+ “God bless you!” cried the prisoner passionately. “I would have endured + imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my miserable + secret as a family blot to my children. +

+

+ “You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a + schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education. I + travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a reporter + on an evening paper in London. One day my editor wished to have a series + of articles upon begging in the metropolis, and I volunteered to supply + them. There was the point from which all my adventures started. It was + only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon + which to base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all + the secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for my + skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my face, and to + make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar and fixed one + side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of flesh-coloured + plaster. Then with a red head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took + my station in the business part of the city, ostensibly as a + match-seller but really as a beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, + and when I returned home in the evening I found to my surprise that I + had received no less than 26s. 4d. +

+

+ “I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some + time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me + for £25. I was at my wit’s end where to get the money, but a sudden idea + came to me. I begged a fortnight’s grace from the creditor, asked for a + holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging in the City + under my disguise. In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. +

+

+ “Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at + £2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my + face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting + still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the + dollars won at last, and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in + the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face + and filling my pockets with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was + the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where + I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings + transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, a + Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that my secret + was safe in his possession. +

+

+ “Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money. I + do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn £700 a + year—which is less than my average takings—but I had exceptional + advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, + which improved by practice and made me quite a recognised character in + the City. All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon + me, and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take £2. +

+

+ “As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, + and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my real + occupation. My dear wife knew that I had business in the City. She + little knew what. +

+

+ “Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room + above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my horror + and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with her eyes + fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my arms to cover + my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to + prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I + knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled + on those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife’s eyes + could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it occurred to me that + there might be a search in the room, and that the clothes might betray + me. I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a small cut which + I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized + my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred + to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it + out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes + would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables + up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my + relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I was + arrested as his murderer. +

+

+ “I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was + determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my + preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly + anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a moment + when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, + telling her that she had no cause to fear.” +

+

“That note only reached her yesterday,” said Holmes.

+

“Good God! What a week she must have spent!”

+

+ “The police have watched this Lascar,” said Inspector Bradstreet, “and I + can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a letter + unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of his, who + forgot all about it for some days.” +

+

+ “That was it,” said Holmes, nodding approvingly; “I have no doubt of it. + But have you never been prosecuted for begging?” +

+

“Many times; but what was a fine to me?”

+

+ “It must stop here, however,” said Bradstreet. “If the police are to + hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone.” +

+

“I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.”

+

+ “In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be + taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, + Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared the + matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results.” +

+

+ “I reached this one,” said my friend, “by sitting upon five pillows and + consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker + Street we shall just be in time for breakfast.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b24fd55 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch06.md @@ -0,0 +1,1108 @@ +--- +title: The Man With the Twisted Lip +class: part +--- + +## The Man With the Twisted Lip + +Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal +of the Theological College of St. George’s, was much addicted to +opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some +foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De +Quincey’s description of his dreams and sensations, he had +drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the +same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the +practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many +years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of +mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see +him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point +pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble +man. + +One night—it was in June, ’89—there came a ring to my bell, +about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the +clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work +down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment. + +“A patient!” said she. “You’ll have to go out.” + +I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day. + +We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps +upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in +some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. + +“You will excuse my calling so late,” she began, and then, +suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms +about my wife’s neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. “Oh, I’m in +such trouble!” she cried; “I do so want a little help.” + +“Why,” said my wife, pulling up her veil, “it is Kate Whitney. +How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when +you came in.” + +“I didn’t know what to do, so I came straight to you.” That was +always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds +to a light-house. + +“It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine +and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or +should you rather that I sent James off to bed?” + +“Oh, no, no! I want the doctor’s advice and help, too. It’s about +Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about +him!” + +It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her +husband’s trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend +and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words +as we could find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it +possible that we could bring him back to her? + +It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late +he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the +farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been +confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and +shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him +eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the +dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the +effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar +of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could +she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and +pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? + +There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of +it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second +thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney’s medical +adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it +better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would +send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the +address which she had given me. And so in ten minutes I had left +my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding +eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at +the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to +be. + +But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my +adventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the +high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east +of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached +by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the +mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I was in search. +Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in +the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the +light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch +and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the +brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the +forecastle of an emigrant ship. + +Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying +in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads +thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a +dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black +shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, +now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of +the metal pipes. The most lay silent, but some muttered to +themselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, +monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and then +suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own +thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At +the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside +which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old +man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon +his knees, staring into the fire. + +As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe +for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. + +“Thank you. I have not come to stay,” said I. “There is a friend +of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.” + +There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and +peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and +unkempt, staring out at me. + +“My God! It’s Watson,” said he. He was in a pitiable state of +reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. “I say, Watson, what +o’clock is it?” + +“Nearly eleven.” + +“Of what day?” + +“Of Friday, June 19th.” + +“Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What +d’you want to frighten a chap for?” He sank his face onto his +arms and began to sob in a high treble key. + +“I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting +this two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!” + +“So I am. But you’ve got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here +a few hours, three pipes, four pipes—I forget how many. But I’ll +go home with you. I wouldn’t frighten Kate—poor little Kate. +Give me your hand! Have you a cab?” + +“Yes, I have one waiting.” + +“Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I +owe, Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself.” + +I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of +sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying +fumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed +the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my +skirt, and a low voice whispered, “Walk past me, and then look +back at me.” The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I +glanced down. They could only have come from the old man at my +side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very +wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between +his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his +fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my +self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of +astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him +but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull +eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and +grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He +made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he +turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided +into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. + +“Holmes!” I whispered, “what on earth are you doing in this den?” + +“As low as you can,” he answered; “I have excellent ears. If you +would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend +of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with +you.” + +“I have a cab outside.” + +“Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he +appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should +recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to +say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait +outside, I shall be with you in five minutes.” + +It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes’ requests, for +they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with +such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney +was once confined in the cab my mission was practically +accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better +than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular +adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. In a +few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney’s bill, led him +out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a +very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, +and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two +streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. +Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and +burst into a hearty fit of laughter. + +“I suppose, Watson,” said he, “that you imagine that I have added +opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little +weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical +views.” + +“I was certainly surprised to find you there.” + +“But not more so than I to find you.” + +“I came to find a friend.” + +“And I to find an enemy.” + +“An enemy?” + +“Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural +prey. Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable +inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent +ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now. Had I been +recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an +hour’s purchase; for I have used it before now for my own +purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have +vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that +building, near the corner of Paul’s Wharf, which could tell some +strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless +nights.” + +“What! You do not mean bodies?” + +“Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1000 +for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It +is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that +Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our +trap should be here.” He put his two forefingers between his +teeth and whistled shrilly—a signal which was answered by a +similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle +of wheels and the clink of horses’ hoofs. + +“Now, Watson,” said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through +the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from +its side lanterns. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” + +“If I can be of use.” + +“Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still +more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.” + +“The Cedars?” + +“Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair’s house. I am staying there while I +conduct the inquiry.” + +“Where is it, then?” + +“Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.” + +“But I am all in the dark.” + +“Of course you are. You’ll know all about it presently. Jump up +here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here’s half a +crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her +head. So long, then!” + +He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through +the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which +widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad +balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly +beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and +mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of +the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of +revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a +star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of +the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his +breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat +beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which +seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in +upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles, +and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban +villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up +his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he +is acting for the best. + +“You have a grand gift of silence, Watson,” said he. “It makes +you quite invaluable as a companion. ’Pon my word, it is a great +thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are +not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear +little woman to-night when she meets me at the door.” + +“You forget that I know nothing about it.” + +“I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before +we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can +get nothing to go upon. There’s plenty of thread, no doubt, but I +can’t get the end of it into my hand. Now, I’ll state the case +clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a +spark where all is dark to me.” + +“Proceed, then.” + +“Some years ago—to be definite, in May, 1884—there came to Lee +a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have +plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very +nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made +friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter +of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no +occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into +town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon +Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of +age, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very +affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all who know +him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far +as we have been able to ascertain, amount to £88 10s., while +he has £220 standing to his credit in the Capital and +Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money +troubles have been weighing upon his mind. + +“Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier +than usual, remarking before he started that he had two important +commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy +home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife +received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his +departure, to the effect that a small parcel of considerable +value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the +offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are well up +in your London, you will know that the office of the company is +in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where +you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for +the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the company’s office, +got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through +Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me +so far?” + +“It is very clear.” + +“If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. +Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, +as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. +While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly +heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her +husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning +to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she +distinctly saw his face, which she describes as being terribly +agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then +vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that +he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. +One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that +although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town +in, he had on neither collar nor necktie. + +“Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the +steps—for the house was none other than the opium den in which +you found me to-night—and running through the front room she +attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At +the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of +whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who +acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled +with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the +lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of +constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The +inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of the +continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to +the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no +sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was +no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, +it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly +swore that no one else had been in the front room during the +afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was +staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had +been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box +which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell +a cascade of children’s bricks. It was the toy which he had +promised to bring home. + +“This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple +showed, made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. +The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an +abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a +sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon +the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom +window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered +at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The +bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On +examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, +and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of +the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were +all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of +his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch—all were +there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these +garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. +Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no +other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon +the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by +swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of +the tragedy. + +“And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately +implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the +vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair’s story, he was +known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few +seconds of her husband’s appearance at the window, he could +hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His defence +was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no +knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he +could not account in any way for the presence of the missing +gentleman’s clothes. + +“So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who +lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was +certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. +Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which +is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a +professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police +regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some +little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand +side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the +wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, +cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he +is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the +greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I +have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of +making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised +at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His +appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him +without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face +disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has +turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a +pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular +contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid +the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he +is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be +thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now +learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been +the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest.” + +“But a cripple!” said I. “What could he have done single-handed +against a man in the prime of life?” + +“He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in +other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. +Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that +weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional +strength in the others.” + +“Pray continue your narrative.” + +“Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the +window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her +presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. +Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful +examination of the premises, but without finding anything which +threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in not +arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes +during which he might have communicated with his friend the +Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and +searched, without anything being found which could incriminate +him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his right +shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been +cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from +there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and +that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from +the same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. +Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in +his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As to +Mrs. St. Clair’s assertion that she had actually seen her husband +at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or +dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the +police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in +the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. + +“And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they +had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair’s coat, and not +Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And +what do you think they found in the pockets?” + +“I cannot imagine.” + +“No, I don’t think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with +pennies and half-pennies—421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It +was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a +human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between +the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the +weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked +away into the river.” + +“But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the +room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?” + +“No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose +that this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the +window, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed. +What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike him +that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seize +the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it +would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little +time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried +to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from his +Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. +There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret +hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he +stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the +pockets to make sure of the coat’s sinking. He throws it out, and +would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard +the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the +window when the police appeared.” + +“It certainly sounds feasible.” + +“Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a +better. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the +station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before +been anything against him. He had for years been known as a +professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very +quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and +the questions which have to be solved—what Neville St. Clair was +doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is +he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance—are +all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot +recall any case within my experience which looked at the first +glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.” + +While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of +events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great +town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and +we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. +Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered +villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. + +“We are on the outskirts of Lee,” said my companion. “We have +touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in +Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. +See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside +that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have +little doubt, caught the clink of our horse’s feet.” + +“But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?” I +asked. + +“Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. +Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and +you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for +my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have +no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!” + +We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its +own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse’s head, and +springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding +gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door +flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad +in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy +pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure +outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one +half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head +and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing +question. + +“Well?” she cried, “well?” And then, seeing that there were two +of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw +that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. + +“No good news?” + +“None.” + +“No bad?” + +“No.” + +“Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have +had a long day.” + +“This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to +me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it +possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this +investigation.” + +“I am delighted to see you,” said she, pressing my hand warmly. +“You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our +arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so +suddenly upon us.” + +“My dear madam,” said I, “I am an old campaigner, and if I were +not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of +any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be +indeed happy.” + +“Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said the lady as we entered a +well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had +been laid out, “I should very much like to ask you one or two +plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain +answer.” + +“Certainly, madam.” + +“Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given +to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.” + +“Upon what point?” + +“In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?” + +Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. +“Frankly, now!” she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking +keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. + +“Frankly, then, madam, I do not.” + +“You think that he is dead?” + +“I do.” + +“Murdered?” + +“I don’t say that. Perhaps.” + +“And on what day did he meet his death?” + +“On Monday.” + +“Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how +it is that I have received a letter from him to-day.” + +Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been +galvanised. + +“What!” he roared. + +“Yes, to-day.” She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of +paper in the air. + +“May I see it?” + +“Certainly.” + +He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out +upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I +had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The +envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend +postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day +before, for it was considerably after midnight. + +“Coarse writing,” murmured Holmes. “Surely this is not your +husband’s writing, madam.” + +“No, but the enclosure is.” + +“I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go +and inquire as to the address.” + +“How can you tell that?” + +“The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried +itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that +blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight +off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This +man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before +he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not +familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is +nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! +there has been an enclosure here!” + +“Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring.” + +“And you are sure that this is your husband’s hand?” + +“One of his hands.” + +“One?” + +“His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual +writing, and yet I know it well.” + +“ ‘Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a +huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. +Wait in patience.—NEVILLE.’ Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf +of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in +Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been +gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been +chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband’s +hand, madam?” + +“None. Neville wrote those words.” + +“And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, +the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the +danger is over.” + +“But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes.” + +“Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. +The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from +him.” + +“No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!” + +“Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only +posted to-day.” + +“That is possible.” + +“If so, much may have happened between.” + +“Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is +well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I +should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him +last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room +rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that +something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such +a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?” + +“I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman +may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical +reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong +piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband +is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away +from you?” + +“I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.” + +“And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?” + +“No.” + +“And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?” + +“Very much so.” + +“Was the window open?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then he might have called to you?” + +“He might.” + +“He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?” + +“Yes.” + +“A call for help, you thought?” + +“Yes. He waved his hands.” + +“But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the +unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?” + +“It is possible.” + +“And you thought he was pulled back?” + +“He disappeared so suddenly.” + +“He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the +room?” + +“No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and +the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs.” + +“Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his +ordinary clothes on?” + +“But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare +throat.” + +“Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?” + +“Never.” + +“Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?” + +“Never.” + +“Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about +which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little +supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy day +to-morrow.” + +A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our +disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary +after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, +who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for +days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, +rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view +until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his +data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now +preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and +waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered +about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from +the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of +Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with +an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front +of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an +old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the +corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, +silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set +aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he +sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found +the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still +between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the room was +full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of +shag which I had seen upon the previous night. + +“Awake, Watson?” he asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Game for a morning drive?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the +stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out.” He +chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed +a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night. + +As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one +was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly +finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was +putting in the horse. + +“I want to test a little theory of mine,” said he, pulling on his +boots. “I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the +presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve +to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the +key of the affair now.” + +“And where is it?” I asked, smiling. + +“In the bathroom,” he answered. “Oh, yes, I am not joking,” he +continued, seeing my look of incredulity. “I have just been +there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this +Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will +not fit the lock.” + +We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into +the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and +trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both +sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country +carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but +the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as +some city in a dream. + +“It has been in some points a singular case,” said Holmes, +flicking the horse on into a gallop. “I confess that I have been +as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than +never to learn it at all.” + +In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily +from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey +side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the +river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the +right and found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well +known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted +him. One of them held the horse’s head while the other led us in. + +“Who is on duty?” asked Holmes. + +“Inspector Bradstreet, sir.” + +“Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?” A tall, stout official had come +down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged +jacket. “I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet.” +“Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here.” It was a small, +office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a +telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his +desk. + +“What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?” + +“I called about that beggarman, Boone—the one who was charged +with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. +Clair, of Lee.” + +“Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries.” + +“So I heard. You have him here?” + +“In the cells.” + +“Is he quiet?” + +“Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel.” + +“Dirty?” + +“Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his +face is as black as a tinker’s. Well, when once his case has been +settled, he will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you +saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it.” + +“I should like to see him very much.” + +“Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave +your bag.” + +“No, I think that I’ll take it.” + +“Very good. Come this way, if you please.” He led us down a +passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and +brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each +side. + +“The third on the right is his,” said the inspector. “Here it +is!” He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door +and glanced through. + +“He is asleep,” said he. “You can see him very well.” + +We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his +face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and +heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his +calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his +tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely +dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its +repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right +across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up +one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a +perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over +his eyes and forehead. + +“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” said the inspector. + +“He certainly needs a wash,” remarked Holmes. “I had an idea that +he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.” +He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my +astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. + +“He! he! You are a funny one,” chuckled the inspector. + +“Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very +quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable +figure.” + +“Well, I don’t know why not,” said the inspector. “He doesn’t +look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?” He slipped his +key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The +sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep +slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, +and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the +prisoner’s face. + +“Let me introduce you,” he shouted, “to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of +Lee, in the county of Kent.” + +Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man’s face peeled +off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the +coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had +seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the +repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled +red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, +sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, +rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. +Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and +threw himself down with his face to the pillow. + +“Great heavens!” cried the inspector, “it is, indeed, the missing +man. I know him from the photograph.” + +The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons +himself to his destiny. “Be it so,” said he. “And pray what am I +charged with?” + +“With making away with Mr. Neville St.— Oh, come, you can’t be +charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of +it,” said the inspector with a grin. “Well, I have been +twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake.” + +“If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime +has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally +detained.” + +“No crime, but a very great error has been committed,” said +Holmes. “You would have done better to have trusted your wife.” + +“It was not the wife; it was the children,” groaned the prisoner. +“God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My +God! What an exposure! What can I do?” + +Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him +kindly on the shoulder. + +“If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up,” said +he, “of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, +if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible +case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the +details should find their way into the papers. Inspector +Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you +might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case +would then never go into court at all.” + +“God bless you!” cried the prisoner passionately. “I would have +endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left +my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. + +“You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a +schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent +education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and +finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day +my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the +metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point +from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying +begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to +base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the +secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for +my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my +face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good +scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a +small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of +hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business +part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a +beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned +home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no +less than 26s. 4d. + +“I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, +some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ +served upon me for £25. I was at my wit’s end where to get +the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight’s +grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, +and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In +ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. + +“Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous +work at £2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in +a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on +the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my +pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up +reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first +chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets +with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a +low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could +every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings +transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, +a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that +my secret was safe in his possession. + +“Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of +money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London +could earn £700 a year—which is less than my average +takings—but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making +up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by +practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. +All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, +and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take £2. + +“As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the +country, and eventually married, without anyone having a +suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had +business in the City. She little knew what. + +“Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my +room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, +to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the +street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of +surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my +confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from +coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that +she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on +those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife’s +eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it +occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that +the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening +by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in +the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was +weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from +the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of +the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes +would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of +constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, +I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. +Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. + +“I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I +was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and +hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would +be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the +Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together +with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to +fear.” + +“That note only reached her yesterday,” said Holmes. + +“Good God! What a week she must have spent!” + +“The police have watched this Lascar,” said Inspector Bradstreet, +“and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to +post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor +customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days.” + +“That was it,” said Holmes, nodding approvingly; “I have no doubt +of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?” + +“Many times; but what was a fine to me?” + +“It must stop here, however,” said Bradstreet. “If the police are +to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone.” + +“I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.” + +“In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps +may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. +I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for +having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your +results.” + +“I reached this one,” said my friend, “by sitting upon five +pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if +we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..51976b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.html @@ -0,0 +1,984 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

+

+ I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning + after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of + the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a + pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled + morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch + was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and + disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in + several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair + suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose + of examination. +

+

“You are engaged,” said I; “perhaps I interrupt you.”

+

+ “Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my + results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one”—he jerked his thumb in + the direction of the old hat—“but there are points in connection with it + which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction.” +

+

+ I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling + fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the + ice crystals. “I suppose,” I remarked, “that, homely as it looks, this + thing has some deadly story linked on to it—that it is the clue which + will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of + some crime.” +

+

+ “No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of those + whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million + human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square + miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, + every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and + many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and + bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such.” +

+

+ “So much so,” I remarked, “that of the last six cases which I have added + to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime.” +

+

+ “Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, + to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of + the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small + matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the + commissionaire?” +

+

“Yes.”

+

“It is to him that this trophy belongs.”

+

“It is his hat.”

+

+ “No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look + upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, + first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in + company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at + this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about four + o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very + honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was + making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he + saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and + carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner + of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little + knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man’s hat, on which he + raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, + smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to + protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having + broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform + rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished + amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham + Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so + that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the + spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most + unimpeachable Christmas goose.” +

+

“Which surely he restored to their owner?”

+

+ “My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs. Henry + Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird’s left + leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are legible upon the + lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some + hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore + lost property to any one of them.” +

+

“What, then, did Peterson do?”

+

+ “He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing + that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we + retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the + slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without + unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil + the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of + the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.” +

+

“Did he not advertise?”

+

“No.”

+

“Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?”

+

“Only as much as we can deduce.”

+

“From his hat?”

+

“Precisely.”

+

+ “But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?” +

+

+ “Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as + to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?” +

+

+ I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather + ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, + hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but + was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s name; but, as Holmes + had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were scrawled upon one side. It was + pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For + the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several + places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the + discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. +

+

“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend.

+

+ “On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to + reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences.” +

+

“Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?”

+

+ He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion + which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less suggestive than it + might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few inferences which + are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong + balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of + course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly + well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon + evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to + a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his + fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work + upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has + ceased to love him.” +

+

“My dear Holmes!”

+

+ “He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, + disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, + goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has + grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which + he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to + be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely + improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.” +

+

“You are certainly joking, Holmes.”

+

+ “Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these + results, you are unable to see how they are attained?” +

+

+ “I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am + unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was + intellectual?” +

+

+ For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the + forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is a question of + cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a brain must have + something in it.” +

+

“The decline of his fortunes, then?”

+

+ “This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came + in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of + ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so + expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has + assuredly gone down in the world.” +

+

+ “Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and + the moral retrogression?” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting his + finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. “They are never + sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain + amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this + precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the + elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has + less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a + weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some + of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign + that he has not entirely lost his self-respect.” +

+

“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.”

+

+ “The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, + that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to + be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. + The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the + scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a + distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the + gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, + showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the + marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer + perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of + training.” +

+

“But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.”

+

+ “This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear + Watson, with a week’s accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your + wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also + have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s affection.” +

+

“But he might be a bachelor.”

+

+ “Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. + Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.” +

+

+ “You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that + the gas is not laid on in his house?” +

+

+ “One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no + less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the + individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning + tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a + guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a + gas-jet. Are you satisfied?” +

+

+ “Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as you said + just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the + loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, + and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed + cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. +

+

“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped.

+

+ “Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through + the kitchen window?” Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a + fairer view of the man’s excited face. +

+

+ “See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!” He held out his + hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly + scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of + such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the + dark hollow of his hand. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said he, + “this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?” +

+

+ “A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were + putty.” +

+

+ “It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.” +

+

“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I ejaculated.

+

+ “Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have + read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. + It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the + reward offered of £1000 is certainly not within a twentieth part of the + market price.” +

+

+ “A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire plumped + down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. +

+

+ “That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are + sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the + Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the + gem.” +

+

+ “It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I + remarked. +

+

+ “Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a + plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady’s jewel-case. + The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred + to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, I believe.” He + rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he + smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: +

+

+ “Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought + up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted from the + jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue + carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence + to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the + Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might + solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained + with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On + returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had + been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it + afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, + was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, + and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be + found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to + the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on + discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she + found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B + division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled + frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. + Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against + the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, + but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense + emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was + carried out of court.” +

+

+ “Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing + aside the paper. “The question for us now to solve is the sequence of + events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a + goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little + deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent + aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose + came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the + other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set + ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what + part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the + simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in + all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other + methods.” +

+

“What will you say?”

+

+ “Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: ‘Found at the + corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker + can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker + Street.’ That is clear and concise.” +

+

“Very. But will he see it?”

+

+ “Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, + the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in + breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of + nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the + impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the introduction + of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will + direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the + advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers.” +

+

“In which, sir?”

+

+ “Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, + St. James’s, Evening News, Standard, + Echo, and any others that occur to you.” +

+

“Very well, sir. And this stone?”

+

+ “Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just + buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have + one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is + now devouring.” +

+

+ When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it + against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just see how it + glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every + good stone is. They are the devil’s pet baits. In the larger and older + jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet + twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in + southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the + carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite + of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two + murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought + about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. + Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows + and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to + the Countess to say that we have it.” +

+

“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?”

+

“I cannot tell.”

+

+ “Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had + anything to do with the matter?” +

+

+ “It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely + innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of + considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, + however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to + our advertisement.” +

+

“And you can do nothing until then?”

+

“Nothing.”

+

+ “In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come + back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to + see the solution of so tangled a business.” +

+

+ “Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. + By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. + Hudson to examine its crop.” +

+

+ I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six + when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the house + I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to + his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from + the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown + up together to Holmes’ room. +

+

+ “Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and + greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so + readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a + cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for + summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right + time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?” +

+

“Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.”

+

+ He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, + intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A + touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended + hand, recalled Holmes’ surmise as to his habits. His rusty black + frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, + and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or + shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with + care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters + who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune. +

+

+ “We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because we + expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a + loss to know now why you did not advertise.” +

+

+ Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. “Shillings have not been so + plentiful with me as they once were,” he remarked. “I had no doubt that + the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the + bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at + recovering them.” +

+

+ “Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat + it.” +

+

+ “To eat it!” Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. +

+

+ “Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I + presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the + same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?” +

+

+ “Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief. +

+

+ “Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your + own bird, so if you wish—” +

+

+ The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as relics + of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see what use + the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to + me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my + attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his + shoulders. +

+

+ “There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, + would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am + somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown + goose.” +

+

+ “Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained + property under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha + Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in the Museum itself during the + day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, + instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence + every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were + duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, + sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” + With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and + strode off upon his way. +

+

+ “So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the door + behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about + the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?” +

+

“Not particularly.”

+

+ “Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this + clue while it is still hot.” +

+

“By all means.”

+

+ It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats + about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless + sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many + pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung + through the doctors’ quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so + through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we + were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at + the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes + pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer + from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. +

+

+ “Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” said he. +

+

“My geese!” The man seemed surprised.

+

+ “Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a + member of your goose club.” +

+

“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them’s not our geese.”

+

“Indeed! Whose, then?”

+

“Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.”

+

“Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?”

+

“Breckinridge is his name.”

+

+ “Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, and + prosperity to your house. Good-night.” +

+

+ “Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat as we + came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though we have so + homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other + a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude unless we can + establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm + his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has + been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our + hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, + and quick march!” +

+

+ We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of + slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name + of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, with a + sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the + shutters. +

+

“Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes.

+

+ The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion. +

+

+ “Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs + of marble. +

+

“Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.”

+

“That’s no good.”

+

“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.”

+

“Ah, but I was recommended to you.”

+

“Who by?”

+

“The landlord of the Alpha.”

+

“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.”

+

“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?”

+

+ To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman. +

+

+ “Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, + “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.” +

+

+ “It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese + which you supplied to the Alpha.” +

+

“Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!”

+

+ “Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you should be + so warm over such a trifle.” +

+

+ “Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I + pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the + business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you sell the + geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One would think they + were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over + them.” +

+

+ “Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making + inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us the bet is + off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter of + fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred.” +

+

+ “Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped the + salesman. +

+

“It’s nothing of the kind.”

+

“I say it is.”

+

“I don’t believe it.”

+

+ “D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them + ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the + Alpha were town bred.” +

+

“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.”

+

“Will you bet, then?”

+

+ “It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I’ll + have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate.” +

+

+ The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said he. +

+

+ The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great + greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. +

+

+ “Now then, Mr. Cocksure,” said the salesman, “I thought that I was out + of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is still one left + in my shop. You see this little book?” +

+

“Well?”

+

+ “That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, then, + here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their + names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see + this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. + Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.” +

+

“Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road—249,” read Holmes.

+

“Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.”

+

+ Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. Oakshott, 117, + Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ” +

+

“Now, then, what’s the last entry?”

+

“ ‘December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ”

+

“Quite so. There you are. And underneath?”

+

“ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ”

+

“What have you to say now?”

+

+ Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his + pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a + man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped + under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was + peculiar to him. +

+

+ “When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ’un’ + protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” said + he. “I daresay that if I had put £100 down in front of him, that man + would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him + by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I + fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to + be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, + or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what + that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are + anxious about the matter, and I should—” +

+

+ His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out + from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little + rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light + which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, + framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the + cringing figure. +

+

+ “I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you were + all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your + silly talk I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and + I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese + off you?” +

+

+ “No; but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the little man. +

+

“Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.”

+

“She told me to ask you.”

+

+ “Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I’ve had enough + of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer + flitted away into the darkness. +

+

+ “Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. “Come + with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow.” Striding + through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring + stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him + upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light + that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face. +

+

+ “Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering voice. +

+

+ “You will excuse me,” said Holmes blandly, “but I could not help + overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I + think that I could be of assistance to you.” +

+

“You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?”

+

+ “My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people + don’t know.” +

+

“But you can know nothing of this?”

+

+ “Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace some + geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman + named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and + by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.” +

+

+ “Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,” cried the + little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. “I can + hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that case + we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept + market-place,” said he. “But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it + is that I have the pleasure of assisting.” +

+

+ The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson,” he + answered with a sidelong glance. +

+

+ “No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always awkward + doing business with an alias.” +

+

+ A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” said + he, “my real name is James Ryder.” +

+

+ “Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into + the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would + wish to know.” +

+

+ The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with + half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is + on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the + cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker + Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin + breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his + hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him. +

+

+ “Here we are!” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. “The fire + looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray + take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle + this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of + those geese?” +

+

“Yes, sir.”

+

+ “Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which + you were interested—white, with a black bar across the tail.” +

+

+ Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell me where + it went to?” +

+

“It came here.”

+

“Here?”

+

+ “Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder that you + should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead—the + bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here + in my museum.” +

+

+ Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his + right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue + carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, + many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain + whether to claim or to disown it. +

+

+ “The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or you’ll be + into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He’s not got + blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of + brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be + sure!” +

+

+ For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought + a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened + eyes at his accuser. +

+

+ “I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could + possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that + little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had + heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar’s?” +

+

+ “It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a crackling + voice. +

+

+ “I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden + wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for + better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you + used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty + villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been + concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the + more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in + my lady’s room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed that he + should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled the + jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. You + then—” +

+

+ Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my + companion’s knees. “For God’s sake, have mercy!” he shrieked. “Think of + my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong + before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll swear it on a Bible. Oh, + don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s sake, don’t!” +

+

+ “Get back into your chair!” said Holmes sternly. “It is very well to + cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor Horner + in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.” +

+

+ “I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge + against him will break down.” +

+

+ “Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the + next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into + the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of + safety.” +

+

+ Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. “I will tell you it just + as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been arrested, it seemed + to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, + for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into + their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel + where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made + for my sister’s house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived + in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way + there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; + and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my + face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the + matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by + the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and + smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do. +

+

+ “I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just + been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell + into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what + they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two + things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where + he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn + the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the + agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any + moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my + waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking + at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an + idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best + detective that ever lived. +

+

+ “My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of + her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as + good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my + stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I + drove one of the birds—a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I + caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat + as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the + stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature + flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the + matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and fluttered + off among the others. +

+

“ ‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she.

+

+ “ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I was + feeling which was the fattest.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you—Jem’s bird, we call it. + It’s the big white one over yonder. There’s twenty-six of them, which + makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, I’d + rather have that one I was handling just now.’ +

+

+ “ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we fattened + it expressly for you.’ +

+

“ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I.

+

+ “ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed. ‘Which is it you + want, then?’ +

+

+ “ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the + flock.’ +

+

“ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’

+

+ “Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the + way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it + was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and + we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there + was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had + occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into + the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there. +

+

“ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried.

+

“ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’

+

“ ‘Which dealer’s?’

+

“ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’

+

+ “ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same as the + one I chose?’ +

+

+ “ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell + them apart.’ +

+

+ “Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet + would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at + once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You + heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like + that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am + myself. And now—and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having + touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help + me!” He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his + hands. +

+

+ There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the + measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’ finger-tips upon the edge of the + table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. +

+

“Get out!” said he.

+

“What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!”

+

“No more words. Get out!”

+

+ And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the + stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls + from the street. +

+

+ “After all, Watson,” said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay + pipe, “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If + Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will + not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am + commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. + This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send + him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is + the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and + whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have + the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another + investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c6e272 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch07.md @@ -0,0 +1,981 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle + +I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second +morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the +compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a +purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the +right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly +studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and +on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable +hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several +places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair +suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the +purpose of examination. + +“You are engaged,” said I; “perhaps I interrupt you.” + +“Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss +my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one”—he jerked his +thumb in the direction of the old hat—“but there are points in +connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and +even of instruction.” + +I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his +crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows +were thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I remarked, “that, +homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to +it—that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of +some mystery and the punishment of some crime.” + +“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of +those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have +four million human beings all jostling each other within the +space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so +dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events +may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be +presented which may be striking and bizarre without being +criminal. We have already had experience of such.” + +“So much so,” I remarked, “that of the last six cases which I +have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any +legal crime.” + +“Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler +papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the +adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt +that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. +You know Peterson, the commissionaire?” + +“Yes.” + +“It is to him that this trophy belongs.” + +“It is his hat.” + +“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will +look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual +problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon +Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I +have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s +fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas +morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was +returning from some small jollification and was making his way +homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in +the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and +carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the +corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger +and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the +man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, +swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. +Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his +assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and +seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, +dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the +labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham +Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of +Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of +battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this +battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.” + +“Which surely he restored to their owner?” + +“My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For +Mrs. Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to +the bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. +B.’ are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are +some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in +this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any +one of them.” + +“What, then, did Peterson do?” + +“He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, +knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. +The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs +that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it +should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried +it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, +while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who +lost his Christmas dinner.” + +“Did he not advertise?” + +“No.” + +“Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?” + +“Only as much as we can deduce.” + +“From his hat?” + +“Precisely.” + +“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered +felt?” + +“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather +yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this +article?” + +I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather +ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round +shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of +red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s +name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were +scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a +hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was +cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, +although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the +discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. + +“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend. + +“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, +however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in +drawing your inferences.” + +“Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?” + +He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective +fashion which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less +suggestive than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there +are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others +which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That +the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the +face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the +last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He +had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a +moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his +fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, +at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that +his wife has ceased to love him.” + +“My dear Holmes!” + +“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he +continued, disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a +sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is +middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the +last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are +the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, +by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid +on in his house.” + +“You are certainly joking, Holmes.” + +“Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you +these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?” + +“I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I +am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that +this man was intellectual?” + +For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right +over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is +a question of cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a +brain must have something in it.” + +“The decline of his fortunes, then?” + +“This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge +came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the +band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could +afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no +hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world.” + +“Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the +foresight and the moral retrogression?” + +Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting +his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. +“They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a +sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his +way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see +that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace +it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, +which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other +hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the +felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not +entirely lost his self-respect.” + +“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.” + +“The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is +grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses +lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the +lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of +hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all +appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of +lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey +dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, +showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while +the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the +wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in +the best of training.” + +“But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.” + +“This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear +Watson, with a week’s accumulation of dust upon your hat, and +when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear +that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s +affection.” + +“But he might be a bachelor.” + +“Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his +wife. Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.” + +“You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce +that the gas is not laid on in his house?” + +“One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I +see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt +that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with +burning tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in +one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never +got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?” + +“Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as +you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm +done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a +waste of energy.” + +Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew +open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment +with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with +astonishment. + +“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped. + +“Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off +through the kitchen window?” Holmes twisted himself round upon +the sofa to get a fairer view of the man’s excited face. + +“See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!” He held out +his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly +scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but +of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric +point in the dark hollow of his hand. + +Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said +he, “this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you +have got?” + +“A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though +it were putty.” + +“It’s more than a precious stone. It is _the_ precious stone.” + +“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I ejaculated. + +“Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I +have read the advertisement about it in _The Times_ every day +lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be +conjectured, but the reward offered of £1000 is certainly +not within a twentieth part of the market price.” + +“A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire +plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. + +“That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are +sentimental considerations in the background which would induce +the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but +recover the gem.” + +“It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I +remarked. + +“Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, +a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady’s +jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case +has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the +matter here, I believe.” He rummaged amid his newspapers, +glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, +doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: + +“Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was +brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., +abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the +valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, +upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect +that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess +of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might +solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had +remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been +called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, +that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco +casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was +accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the +dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was +arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found +either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to +the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on +discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, +where she found matters as described by the last witness. +Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest +of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence +in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for +robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate +refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to +the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion +during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was +carried out of court.” + +“Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, +tossing aside the paper. “The question for us now to solve is the +sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to +the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You +see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much +more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the +stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry +Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other +characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set +ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and +ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To +do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie +undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If +this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods.” + +“What will you say?” + +“Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: ‘Found at +the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. +Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at +221B, Baker Street.’ That is clear and concise.” + +“Very. But will he see it?” + +“Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor +man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his +mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson +that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must +have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his +bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to +see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to +it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency +and have this put in the evening papers.” + +“In which, sir?” + +“Oh, in the _Globe_, _Star_, _Pall Mall_, _St. James’s_, _Evening News_, +_Standard_, _Echo_, and any others that occur to you.” + +“Very well, sir. And this stone?” + +“Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, +Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here +with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place +of the one which your family is now devouring.” + +When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and +held it against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just +see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and +focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet +baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a +bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found +in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable +in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is +blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has +already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a +vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about +for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. +Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the +gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and +drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it.” + +“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?” + +“I cannot tell.” + +“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had +anything to do with the matter?” + +“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an +absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he +was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made +of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple +test if we have an answer to our advertisement.” + +“And you can do nothing until then?” + +“Nothing.” + +“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall +come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I +should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.” + +“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I +believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I +ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.” + +I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past +six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I +approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a +coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the +bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I +arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to +Holmes’ room. + +“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair +and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he +could so readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. +Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is +more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have +just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?” + +“Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.” + +He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a +broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of +grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight +tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes’ surmise as to his +habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in +front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded +from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a +slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the +impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had +ill-usage at the hands of fortune. + +“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, +“because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your +address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise.” + +Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. “Shillings have not +been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he remarked. “I had +no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off +both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a +hopeless attempt at recovering them.” + +“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to +eat it.” + +“To eat it!” Our visitor half rose from his chair in his +excitement. + +“Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. +But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is +about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your +purpose equally well?” + +“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of +relief. + +“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of +your own bird, so if you wish—” + +The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as +relics of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly +see what use the _disjecta membra_ of my late acquaintance are +going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I +will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive +upon the sideboard.” + +Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug +of his shoulders. + +“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the +way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one +from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a +better grown goose.” + +“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly +gained property under his arm. “There are a few of us who +frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in +the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our +good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, +on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to +receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the +rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a +Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” With +a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and +strode off upon his way. + +“So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the +door behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing +whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?” + +“Not particularly.” + +“Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow +up this clue while it is still hot.” + +“By all means.” + +It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped +cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly +in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out +into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out +crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors’ quarter, +Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into +Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at +the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one +of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open +the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from +the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. + +“Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” +said he. + +“My geese!” The man seemed surprised. + +“Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, +who was a member of your goose club.” + +“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them’s not _our_ geese.” + +“Indeed! Whose, then?” + +“Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.” + +“Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?” + +“Breckinridge is his name.” + +“Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, +and prosperity to your house. Good-night.” + +“Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat +as we came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though +we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we +have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal +servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible +that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we +have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, +and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us +follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and +quick march!” + +We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a +zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest +stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor +a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was +helping a boy to put up the shutters. + +“Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes. + +The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my +companion. + +“Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the +bare slabs of marble. + +“Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.” + +“That’s no good.” + +“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.” + +“Ah, but I was recommended to you.” + +“Who by?” + +“The landlord of the Alpha.” + +“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.” + +“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?” + +To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the +salesman. + +“Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head cocked and his arms +akimbo, “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.” + +“It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the +geese which you supplied to the Alpha.” + +“Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!” + +“Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you +should be so warm over such a trifle.” + +“Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. +When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end +of the business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you +sell the geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One +would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the +fuss that is made over them.” + +“Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been +making inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us +the bet is off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my +opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the +bird I ate is country bred.” + +“Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped +the salesman. + +“It’s nothing of the kind.” + +“I say it is.” + +“I don’t believe it.” + +“D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled +them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that +went to the Alpha were town bred.” + +“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.” + +“Will you bet, then?” + +“It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But +I’ll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be +obstinate.” + +The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said +he. + +The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great +greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging +lamp. + +“Now then, Mr. Cocksure,” said the salesman, “I thought that I +was out of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is +still one left in my shop. You see this little book?” + +“Well?” + +“That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, +then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers +after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. +Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a +list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just +read it out to me.” + +“Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road—249,” read Holmes. + +“Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.” + +Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. +Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ” + +“Now, then, what’s the last entry?” + +“ ‘December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ” + +“Quite so. There you are. And underneath?” + +“ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ” + +“What have you to say now?” + +Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from +his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the +air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off +he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless +fashion which was peculiar to him. + +“When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ’un’ +protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” +said he. “I daresay that if I had put £100 down in front of +him, that man would not have given me such complete information +as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a +wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our +quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is +whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or +whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what +that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves +who are anxious about the matter, and I should—” + +His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke +out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a +little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of +yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while +Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was +shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. + +“I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you +were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more +with your silly talk I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. +Oakshott here and I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with +it? Did I buy the geese off you?” + +“No; but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the little +man. + +“Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.” + +“She told me to ask you.” + +“Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I’ve had +enough of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and +the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. + +“Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. +“Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this +fellow.” Striding through the scattered knots of people who +lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook +the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang +round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of +colour had been driven from his face. + +“Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering +voice. + +“You will excuse me,” said Holmes blandly, “but I could not help +overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. +I think that I could be of assistance to you.” + +“You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?” + +“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other +people don’t know.” + +“But you can know nothing of this?” + +“Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to +trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton +Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. +Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. +Henry Baker is a member.” + +“Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,” cried +the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. +“I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.” + +Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that +case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this +wind-swept market-place,” said he. “But pray tell me, before we +go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.” + +The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson,” he +answered with a sidelong glance. + +“No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always +awkward doing business with an alias.” + +A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” +said he, “my real name is James Ryder.” + +“Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray +step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you +everything which you would wish to know.” + +The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with +half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure +whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. +Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in +the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during +our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and +the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous +tension within him. + +“Here we are!” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. +“The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, +Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my +slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! +You want to know what became of those geese?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in +which you were interested—white, with a black bar across the +tail.” + +Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell +me where it went to?” + +“It came here.” + +“Here?” + +“Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder that +you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was +dead—the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. +I have it here in my museum.” + +Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece +with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up +the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, +brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a +drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. + +“The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or +you’ll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, +Watson. He’s not got blood enough to go in for felony with +impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little +more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!” + +For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy +brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring +with frightened eyes at his accuser. + +“I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I +could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. +Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case +complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the +Countess of Morcar’s?” + +“It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a +crackling voice. + +“I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of +sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has +been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous +in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the +making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man +Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter +before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. +What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady’s +room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed that he +should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled +the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man +arrested. You then—” + +Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my +companion’s knees. “For God’s sake, have mercy!” he shrieked. +“Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I +never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll +swear it on a Bible. Oh, don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s +sake, don’t!” + +“Get back into your chair!” said Holmes sternly. “It is very well +to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this +poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.” + +“I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the +charge against him will break down.” + +“Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account +of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came +the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies +your only hope of safety.” + +Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. “I will tell you +it just as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been +arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get +away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment +the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my +room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. +I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister’s +house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton +Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there +every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; +and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down +my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me +what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I +had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went +into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would +be best to do. + +“I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and +has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met +me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they +could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to +me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind +to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my +confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. +But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had +gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be +seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat +pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at +the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly +an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the +best detective that ever lived. + +“My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the +pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she +was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in +it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in +the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds—a fine big +one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill +open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger +could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass +along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped +and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the +matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and +fluttered off among the others. + +“ ‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she. + +“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I +was feeling which was the fattest.’ + +“ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you—Jem’s bird, we +call it. It’s the big white one over yonder. There’s twenty-six +of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen +for the market.’ + +“ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, +I’d rather have that one I was handling just now.’ + +“ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we +fattened it expressly for you.’ + +“ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I. + +“ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed. ‘Which is it +you want, then?’ + +“ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the +flock.’ + +“ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’ + +“Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird +all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was +a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed +until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My +heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I +knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, +rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into the back yard. There +was not a bird to be seen there. + +“ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried. + +“ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’ + +“ ‘Which dealer’s?’ + +“ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’ + +“ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same +as the one I chose?’ + +“ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never +tell them apart.’ + +“Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my +feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the +lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they +had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always +answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. +Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now—and now I am myself +a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which +I sold my character. God help me! God help me!” He burst into +convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. + +There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and +by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’ finger-tips upon the +edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. + +“Get out!” said he. + +“What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!” + +“No more words. Get out!” + +And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon +the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running +footfalls from the street. + +“After all, Watson,” said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his +clay pipe, “I am not retained by the police to supply their +deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; +but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must +collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just +possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong +again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and +you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of +forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and +whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you +will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin +another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief +feature.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fe79ca --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.html @@ -0,0 +1,1196 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Speckled Band + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Speckled Band

+

+ On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have + during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock + Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, + but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his + art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself + with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even + the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any + which presented more singular features than that which was associated + with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The + events in question occurred in the early days of my association with + Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is + possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise + of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed + during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the + pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come + to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours + as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter + even more terrible than the truth. +

+

+ It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to find + Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a + late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me + that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some + surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular + in my habits. +

+

+ “Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lot + this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and + I on you.” +

+

“What is it, then—a fire?”

+

+ “No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable + state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in + the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at + this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, + I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to + communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am + sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I + should call you and give you the chance.” +

+

“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”

+

+ I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional + investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as + intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he + unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on + my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to + the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had + been sitting in the window, rose as we entered. +

+

+ “Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock + Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before + whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that + Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to + it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you + are shivering.” +

+

+ “It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low voice, + changing her seat as requested. +

+

“What, then?”

+

+ “It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she + spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of + agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, + like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of + a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her + expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one + of his quick, all-comprehensive glances. +

+

+ “You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her + forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have + come in by train this morning, I see.” +

+

“You know me, then?”

+

+ “No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of + your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good + drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.” +

+

+ The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my + companion. +

+

+ “There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm of + your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The + marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which + throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand + side of the driver.” +

+

+ “Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she. “I + started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and + came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no + longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to—none, + save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little + aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. + Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her + that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help + me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness + which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for + your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the + control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me + ungrateful.” +

+

+ Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, + which he consulted. +

+

+ “Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with + an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, + madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I + did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own + reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put + to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay + before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the + matter.” +

+

+ “Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation lies in + the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so + entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that + even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice + looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous + woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers + and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply + into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how + to walk amid the dangers which encompass me.” +

+

“I am all attention, madam.”

+

+ “My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the + last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the + Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.” +

+

Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he.

+

+ “The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the + estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and + Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive + heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin + was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. + Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the + two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy + mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the + horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my + stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, + obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical + degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and + his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of + anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in + the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a + capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and + afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. +

+

+ “When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the + young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister + Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my + mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money—not less than + £1000 a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we + resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be + allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our + return to England my mother died—she was killed eight years ago in a + railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to + establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in + the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had + left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to + our happiness. +

+

+ “But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead + of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at + first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old + family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to + indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. + Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men + of the family, and in my stepfather’s case it had, I believe, been + intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of + disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, + until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would + fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely + uncontrollable in his anger. +

+

+ “Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, + and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather + together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no + friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these + vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land + which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the + hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks + on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to + him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a + baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the + villagers almost as much as their master. +

+

+ “You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no + great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a + long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the + time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as + mine has.” +

+

“Your sister is dead, then?”

+

+ “She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to + speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have + described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and + position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden sister, Miss + Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally + allowed to pay short visits at this lady’s house. Julia went there at + Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to + whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my + sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but within a + fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible + event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed + and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and + glanced across at his visitor. +

+

“Pray be precise as to details,” said he.

+

+ “It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is + seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very + old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are + on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the + buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second my + sister’s, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, + but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?” +

+

“Perfectly so.”

+

+ “The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night + Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not + retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong + Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, + therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting + about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose to leave me, + but she paused at the door and looked back. +

+

+ “ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in the + dead of the night?’ +

+

“ ‘Never,’ said I.

+

+ “ ‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your + sleep?’ +

+

“ ‘Certainly not. But why?’

+

+ “ ‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the + morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has + awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps from the next + room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether + you had heard it.’ +

+

+ “ ‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did + not hear it also.’ +

+

“ ‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’

+

+ “ ‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back at + me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the + lock.” +

+

+ “Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in + at night?” +

+

“Always.”

+

“And why?”

+

+ “I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a + baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.” +

+

“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”

+

+ “I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune + impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you + know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely + allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain + was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the + hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified + woman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed, + wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my + door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a + few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As + I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, and revolved + slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what + was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my + sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands + groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a + drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment + her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as + one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At + first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her + she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my + God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ There was something + else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger + into the air in the direction of the doctor’s room, but a fresh + convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly + for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his + dressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious, and + though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from + the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died + without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of + my beloved sister.” +

+

+ “One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and metallic + sound? Could you swear to it?” +

+

+ “That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my + strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale + and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived.” +

+

“Was your sister dressed?”

+

+ “No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred + stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.” +

+

+ “Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm + took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come + to?” +

+

+ “He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conduct had + long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any + satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been + fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by + old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every + night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite + solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the + same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large + staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when + she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.” +

+

“How about poison?”

+

“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.”

+

“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?”

+

+ “It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though + what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.” +

+

“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?”

+

“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”

+

+ “Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckled + band?” +

+

+ “Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, + sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to + these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted + handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have + suggested the strange adjective which she used.” +

+

Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.

+

+ “These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your narrative.” +

+

+ “Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately + lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have + known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. + His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr. Armitage, of + Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to + the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two + days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and + my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the + chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which + she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay + awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence + of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. + I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I + was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as + it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which + is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this + morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice.” +

+

+ “You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?” +

+

“Yes, all.”

+

“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.”

+

“Why, what do you mean?”

+

+ For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the + hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little livid spots, the + marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist. +

+

“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes.

+

+ The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He is a + hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.” +

+

+ There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his + hands and stared into the crackling fire. +

+

+ “This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a thousand + details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of + action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke + Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms + without the knowledge of your stepfather?” +

+

+ “As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most + important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and + that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, + but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way.” +

+

“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?”

+

“By no means.”

+

“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?”

+

+ “I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in + town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to be there + in time for your coming.” +

+

+ “And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small + business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?” +

+

+ “No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my + trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this + afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided + from the room. +

+

+ “And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, + leaning back in his chair. +

+

“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.”

+

“Dark enough and sinister enough.”

+

+ “Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are + sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her + sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious + end.” +

+

+ “What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very + peculiar words of the dying woman?” +

+

“I cannot think.”

+

+ “When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band + of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that + we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in + preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying allusion to a band, + and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, + which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the + shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground + to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines.” +

+

“But what, then, did the gipsies do?”

+

“I cannot imagine.”

+

“I see many objections to any such theory.”

+

+ “And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke + Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if + they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!” +

+

+ The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our + door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed + himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the + professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long + frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in + his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of + the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. + A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the + sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the + other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, + fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird + of prey. +

+

“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition.

+

+ “My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my companion + quietly. +

+

“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”

+

“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.”

+

+ “I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have + traced her. What has she been saying to you?” +

+

“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.

+

+ “What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man furiously. +

+

+ “But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my + companion imperturbably. +

+

+ “Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step + forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I have + heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.” +

+

My friend smiled.

+

“Holmes, the busybody!”

+

His smile broadened.

+

“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!”

+

+ Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,” said + he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught.” +

+

+ “I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with my + affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a + dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward, + seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands. +

+

+ “See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurling the + twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room. +

+

+ “He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am not quite + so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was + not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke he picked up the steel + poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again. +

+

+ “Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official + detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, + and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her + imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we + shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors’ + Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this + matter.”

+

+

+ It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his + excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with + notes and figures. +

+

+ “I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determine its + exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the + investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the + time of the wife’s death was little short of £1100, is now, through the + fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750. Each daughter can claim + an income of £250, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that + if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, + while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My + morning’s work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the + very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. + And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old + man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you + are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very + much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley’s + No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers + into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need.” +

+

+ At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where + we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles + through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun + and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges + were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of + the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a + strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this + sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front + of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his + chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, + however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the + meadows. +

+

“Look there!” said he.

+

+ A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into + a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out + the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion. +

+

“Stoke Moran?” said he.

+

+ “Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked the + driver. +

+

+ “There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is where we + are going.” +

+

+ “There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs + some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you’ll + find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the + fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.” +

+

+ “And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading his + eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.” +

+

+ We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to + Leatherhead. +

+

+ “I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, “that this + fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite + business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see + that we have been as good as our word.” +

+

+ Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face + which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” she + cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly. Dr. + Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before + evening.” +

+

+ “We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,” said + Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss + Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. +

+

“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.”

+

“So it appears.”

+

+ “He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will + he say when he returns?” +

+

+ “He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more + cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him + to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt’s at + Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at + once to the rooms which we are to examine.” +

+

+ The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central + portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on + each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked + with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of + ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the + right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the + windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that + this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected + against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there + were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked + slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention + the outsides of the windows. +

+

+ “This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the + centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main building to + Dr. Roylott’s chamber?” +

+

“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.”

+

+ “Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not + seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.” +

+

+ “There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my + room.” +

+

+ “Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs + the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, + of course?” +

+

+ “Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through.” +

+

+ “As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable + from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room + and bar your shutters?” +

+

+ Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the + open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but + without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed + to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were + of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” said he, + scratching his chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly presents + some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. + Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter.” +

+

+ A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three + bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we + passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now + sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely + little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the + fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one + corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table + on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small + wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a + square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the + panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and + discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the + house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while + his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every + detail of the apartment. +

+

+ “Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing to a + thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually + lying upon the pillow. +

+

“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”

+

“It looks newer than the other things?”

+

“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”

+

“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”

+

+ “No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted + for ourselves.” +

+

+ “Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You + will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this + floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand + and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks + between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which + the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent + some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. + Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug. +

+

“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he.

+

“Won’t it ring?”

+

+ “No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You + can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little + opening for the ventilator is.” +

+

“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.”

+

+ “Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one or + two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a + builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the + same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!” +

+

“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.

+

“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes.

+

+ “Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.” +

+

+ “They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy + bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your + permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the + inner apartment.” +

+

+ Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his + step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden + shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside + the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a + large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes + walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest + interest. +

+

“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.

+

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

+

“Oh! you have seen inside, then?”

+

+ “Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.” +

+

“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”

+

“No. What a strange idea!”

+

+ “Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on + the top of it. +

+

“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”

+

+ “Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer + of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There + is one point which I should wish to determine.” He squatted down in + front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest + attention. +

+

+ “Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting his lens + in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!” +

+

+ The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one + corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so + as to make a loop of whipcord. +

+

“What do you make of that, Watson?”

+

+ “It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.” +

+

+ “That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world, and + when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I + think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission + we shall walk out upon the lawn.” +

+

+ I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as it was + when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked + several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself + liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his + reverie. +

+

+ “It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should + absolutely follow my advice in every respect.” +

+

“I shall most certainly do so.”

+

+ “The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon + your compliance.” +

+

“I assure you that I am in your hands.”

+

+ “In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your + room.” +

+

Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

+

+ “Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village + inn over there?” +

+

“Yes, that is the Crown.”

+

“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?”

+

“Certainly.”

+

+ “You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when + your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, + you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp + there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which + you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no + doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one + night.” +

+

“Oh, yes, easily.”

+

“The rest you will leave in our hands.”

+

“But what will you do?”

+

+ “We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the + cause of this noise which has disturbed you.” +

+

+ “I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” said + Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve. +

+

“Perhaps I have.”

+

+ “Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s + death.” +

+

“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.”

+

+ “You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she + died from some sudden fright.” +

+

+ “No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more + tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. + Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and + be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured + that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you.” +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and + sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from + our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the + inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby + Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of + the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the + heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor’s voice and + saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap + drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among + the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. +

+

+ “Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering + darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There + is a distinct element of danger.” +

+

“Can I be of assistance?”

+

“Your presence might be invaluable.”

+

“Then I shall certainly come.”

+

“It is very kind of you.”

+

+ “You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than + was visible to me.” +

+

+ “No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that + you saw all that I did.” +

+

+ “I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that + could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.” +

+

“You saw the ventilator, too?”

+

+ “Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a + small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly + pass through.” +

+

+ “I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke + Moran.” +

+

“My dear Holmes!”

+

+ “Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister + could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once + that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only + be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner’s + inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.” +

+

“But what harm can there be in that?”

+

+ “Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is + made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not + that strike you?” +

+

“I cannot as yet see any connection.”

+

“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?”

+

“No.”

+

+ “It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that + before?” +

+

“I cannot say that I have.”

+

+ “The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative + position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may call it, since + it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.” +

+

+ “Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are + only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.” +

+

+ “Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is + the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and + Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes + even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper + still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for + goodness’ sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few + hours to something more cheerful.” +

+
+

+ About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all + was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly + away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright + light shone out right in front of us. +

+

+ “That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comes from + the middle window.” +

+

+ As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining + that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was + possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out + on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow + light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our + sombre errand. +

+

+ There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired + breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we + reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window + when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a + hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with + writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness. +

+

“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”

+

+ Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice + upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put + his lips to my ear. +

+

“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.”

+

+ I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was a + cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. + I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes’ + example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My + companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the + table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in + the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he + whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to + distinguish the words: +

+

“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”

+

I nodded to show that I had heard.

+

+ “We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.” +

+

I nodded again.

+

+ “Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol + ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and + you in that chair.” +

+

I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

+

+ Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed + beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. + Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness. +

+

+ How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, + not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat + open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension + in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and + we waited in absolute darkness. +

+

+ From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our + very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah + was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the + parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they + seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and + still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall. +

+

+ Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of + the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a + strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room + had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all + was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I + sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible—a + very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping + continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang + from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the + bell-pull. +

+

“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”

+

+ But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a + low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes + made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed + so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and + filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing + up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the + night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up + louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled + in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and + even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their + beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he + at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from + which it rose. +

+

“What can it mean?” I gasped.

+

+ “It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after + all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. + Roylott’s room.” +

+

+ With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. + Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then + he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol + in my hand. +

+

+ It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a + dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of + light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, + on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey + dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust + into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock + with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was + cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the + corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, + with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. + As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. +

+

“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes.

+

+ I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, + and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped + head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. +

+

+ “It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. He + has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, + recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he + digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we + can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county + police know what has happened.” +

+

+ As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, and + throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from its horrid + perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into the iron safe, + which he closed upon it. +

+
+

+ Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke + Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has + already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news + to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the + care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official + inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while + indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to + learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back + next day. +

+

+ “I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, + my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient + data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word ‘band,’ which + was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she + had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were + sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the + merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became + clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room + could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was + speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, + and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this + was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave + rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something + passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake + instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that + the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt + that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of + poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was + just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had + an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take + effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be + a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark + punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. + Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before + the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably + by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He + would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, + with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the + bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape + every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim. +

+

+ “I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An + inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of + standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he + should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, + and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which + may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously + caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its + terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which + I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature + hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light + and attacked it.” +

+

“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”

+

+ “And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the + other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its + snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this + way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s + death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my + conscience.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d80a2ac --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch08.md @@ -0,0 +1,1213 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Speckled Band +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Speckled Band + +On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I +have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend +Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number +merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did +rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of +wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation +which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. +Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which +presented more singular features than that which was associated +with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. +The events in question occurred in the early days of my +association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors +in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them +upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the +time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by +the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It +is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I +have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the +death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even +more terrible than the truth. + +It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to +find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my +bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the +mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I +blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little +resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits. + +“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the +common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she +retorted upon me, and I on you.” + +“What is it, then—a fire?” + +“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a +considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She +is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander +about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock +sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is +something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it +prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to +follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should +call you and give you the chance.” + +“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.” + +I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his +professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid +deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a +logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were +submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in +a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A +lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in +the window, rose as we entered. + +“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is Sherlock +Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, +before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am +glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the +fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot +coffee, for I observe that you are shivering.” + +“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low +voice, changing her seat as requested. + +“What, then?” + +“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as +she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable +state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless +frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features +and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot +with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. +Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, +all-comprehensive glances. + +“You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and +patting her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no +doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see.” + +“You know me, then?” + +“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm +of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had +a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached +the station.” + +The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my +companion. + +“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left +arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven +places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a +dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you +sit on the left-hand side of the driver.” + +“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said +she. “I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at +twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I +can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. +I have no one to turn to—none, save only one, who cares for me, +and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, +Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you +helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had +your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, +too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness +which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward +you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be +married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you +shall not find me ungrateful.” + +Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small +case-book, which he consulted. + +“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was +concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, +Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote +the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to +reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty +to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which +suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us +everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the +matter.” + +“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation +lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions +depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to +another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to +look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it +as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can +read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have +heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold +wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid +the dangers which encompass me.” + +“I am all attention, madam.” + +“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who +is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in +England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of +Surrey.” + +Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he. + +“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the +estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, +and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four +successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, +and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the +days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, +and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under +a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence +there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but +his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to +the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which +enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, +where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he +established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused +by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he +beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital +sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and +afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. + +“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, +the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. +My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old +at the time of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable +sum of money—not less than £1000 a year—and this she +bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, +with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to +each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return +to England my mother died—she was killed eight years ago in a +railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his +attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us +to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The +money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and +there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. + +“But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. +Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our +neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of +Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in +his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious +quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper +approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the +family, and in my stepfather’s case it had, I believe, been +intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of +disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the +police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, +and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of +immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. + +“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a +stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I +could gather together that I was able to avert another public +exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, +and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few +acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, +and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, +wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a +passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a +correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, +which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the +villagers almost as much as their master. + +“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I +had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with +us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was +but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already +begun to whiten, even as mine has.” + +“Your sister is dead, then?” + +“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish +to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I +have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own +age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden +sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we +were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady’s +house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there +a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My +stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and +offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of +the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event +occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.” + +Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes +closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his +lids now and glanced across at his visitor. + +“Pray be precise as to details,” said he. + +“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful +time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have +already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The +bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms +being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms +the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second my sister’s, and the third +my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open +out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?” + +“Perfectly so.” + +“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That +fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we +knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled +by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom +to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where +she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At +eleven o’clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door +and looked back. + +“ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle +in the dead of the night?’ + +“ ‘Never,’ said I. + +“ ‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in +your sleep?’ + +“ ‘Certainly not. But why?’ + +“ ‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three +in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, +and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps +from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would +just ask you whether you had heard it.’ + +“ ‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the +plantation.’ + +“ ‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you +did not hear it also.’ + +“ ‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’ + +“ ‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled +back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her +key turn in the lock.” + +“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock +yourselves in at night?” + +“Always.” + +“And why?” + +“I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah +and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were +locked.” + +“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.” + +“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending +misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, +were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two +souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind +was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing +against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, +there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew +that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a +shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door +I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and +a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had +fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, +and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it +horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By +the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the +opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for +help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a +drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that +moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. +She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were +dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not +recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out +in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was +the band! The speckled band!’ There was something else which she +would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the +air in the direction of the doctor’s room, but a fresh convulsion +seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for +my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his +dressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was +unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent +for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for +she slowly sank and died without having recovered her +consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister.” + +“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and +metallic sound? Could you swear to it?” + +“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is +my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of +the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have +been deceived.” + +“Was your sister dressed?” + +“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the +charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.” + +“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when +the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did +the coroner come to?” + +“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s +conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable +to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that +the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows +were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, +which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, +and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was +also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is +wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, +therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. +Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.” + +“How about poison?” + +“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.” + +“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?” + +“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, +though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.” + +“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?” + +“Yes, there are nearly always some there.” + +“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a +speckled band?” + +“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of +delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of +people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not +know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear +over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which +she used.” + +Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied. + +“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your +narrative.” + +“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until +lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, +whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask +my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the +second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My +stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to +be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs +were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom +wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the +chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in +which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last +night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I +suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which +had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the +lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to +go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was +daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which +is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on +this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your +advice.” + +“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me +all?” + +“Yes, all.” + +“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.” + +“Why, what do you mean?” + +For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which +fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little +livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed +upon the white wrist. + +“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes. + +The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He +is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own +strength.” + +There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin +upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire. + +“This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a +thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide +upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If +we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for +us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your +stepfather?” + +“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some +most important business. It is probable that he will be away all +day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a +housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily +get her out of the way.” + +“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?” + +“By no means.” + +“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?” + +“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am +in town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to +be there in time for your coming.” + +“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some +small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and +breakfast?” + +“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have +confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you +again this afternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her +face and glided from the room. + +“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes, +leaning back in his chair. + +“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.” + +“Dark enough and sinister enough.” + +“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls +are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, +then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her +mysterious end.” + +“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the +very peculiar words of the dying woman?” + +“I cannot think.” + +“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of +a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, +the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has +an interest in preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying +allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner +heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of +those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its +place, I think that there is good ground to think that the +mystery may be cleared along those lines.” + +“But what, then, did the gipsies do?” + +“I cannot imagine.” + +“I see many objections to any such theory.” + +“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going +to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are +fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of +the devil!” + +The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that +our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had +framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar +mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a +black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, +with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his +hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his +breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, +seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and +marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other +of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, +fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old +bird of prey. + +“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition. + +“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my +companion quietly. + +“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.” + +“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.” + +“I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I +have traced her. What has she been saying to you?” + +“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes. + +“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man +furiously. + +“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my +companion imperturbably. + +“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step +forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! +I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.” + +My friend smiled. + +“Holmes, the busybody!” + +His smile broadened. + +“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!” + +Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most +entertaining,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for +there is a decided draught.” + +“I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with +my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! +I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped +swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with +his huge brown hands. + +“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and +hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the +room. + +“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am +not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him +that my grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke +he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, +straightened it out again. + +“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official +detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, +however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer +from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, +Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk +down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to get some data which may +help us in this matter.” +

+ +It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his +excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled +over with notes and figures. + +“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To +determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the +present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The +total income, which at the time of the wife’s death was little +short of £1100, is now, through the fall in agricultural +prices, not more than £750. Each daughter can claim an +income of £250, in case of marriage. It is evident, +therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have +had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to +a very serious extent. My morning’s work has not been wasted, +since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for +standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, +this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is +aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you +are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be +very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your +pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen +who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush +are, I think, all that we need.” + +At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for +Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove +for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a +perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the +heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out +their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant +smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange +contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this +sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in +the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over +his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the +deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the +shoulder, and pointed over the meadows. + +“Look there!” said he. + +A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, +thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the +branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a +very old mansion. + +“Stoke Moran?” said he. + +“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked +the driver. + +“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is +where we are going.” + +“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of +roofs some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the +house, you’ll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by +the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is +walking.” + +“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading +his eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.” + +We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way +to Leatherhead. + +“I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile, +“that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or +on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. +Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as +our word.” + +Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a +face which spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for +you,” she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned +out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely +that he will be back before evening.” + +“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,” +said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had +occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. + +“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.” + +“So it appears.” + +“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What +will he say when he returns?” + +“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone +more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself +up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to +your aunt’s at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our +time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to +examine.” + +The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high +central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, +thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were +broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly +caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little +better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, +and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up +from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. +Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the +stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any +workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and +down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the +outsides of the windows. + +“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, +the centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main +building to Dr. Roylott’s chamber?” + +“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.” + +“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does +not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end +wall.” + +“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from +my room.” + +“Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow +wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There +are windows in it, of course?” + +“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass +through.” + +“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were +unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness +to go into your room and bar your shutters?” + +Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination +through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the +shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through +which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his +lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built +firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!” said he, scratching his +chin in some perplexity, “my theory certainly presents some +difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were +bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon +the matter.” + +A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which +the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third +chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss +Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her +fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a +gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A +brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow +white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the +left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small +wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save +for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and +the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old +and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building +of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat +silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, +taking in every detail of the apartment. + +“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last +pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the +tassel actually lying upon the pillow. + +“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.” + +“It looks newer than the other things?” + +“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.” + +“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?” + +“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we +wanted for ourselves.” + +“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. +You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to +this floor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in +his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining +minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with +the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he +walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and +in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the +bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug. + +“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he. + +“Won’t it ring?” + +“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. +You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where +the little opening for the ventilator is.” + +“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.” + +“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are +one or two very singular points about this room. For example, +what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another +room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated +with the outside air!” + +“That is also quite modern,” said the lady. + +“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes. + +“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that +time.” + +“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy +bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your +permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into +the inner apartment.” + +Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his +step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small +wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an +armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a +round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things +which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each +and all of them with the keenest interest. + +“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe. + +“My stepfather’s business papers.” + +“Oh! you have seen inside, then?” + +“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of +papers.” + +“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?” + +“No. What a strange idea!” + +“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which +stood on the top of it. + +“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.” + +“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a +saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I +daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He +squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat +of it with the greatest attention. + +“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting +his lens in his pocket. “Hullo! Here is something interesting!” + +The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on +one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself +and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord. + +“What do you make of that, Watson?” + +“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be +tied.” + +“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world, +and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst +of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and +with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn.” + +I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as +it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We +had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss +Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he +roused himself from his reverie. + +“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should +absolutely follow my advice in every respect.” + +“I shall most certainly do so.” + +“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may +depend upon your compliance.” + +“I assure you that I am in your hands.” + +“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in +your room.” + +Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment. + +“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the +village inn over there?” + +“Yes, that is the Crown.” + +“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?” + +“Certainly.” + +“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a +headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him +retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, +undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then +withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want +into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in +spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night.” + +“Oh, yes, easily.” + +“The rest you will leave in our hands.” + +“But what will you do?” + +“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate +the cause of this noise which has disturbed you.” + +“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” +said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve. + +“Perhaps I have.” + +“Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s +death.” + +“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.” + +“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and +if she died from some sudden fright.” + +“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more +tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if +Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. +Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, +you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers +that threaten you.” + +Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and +sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and +from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and +of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw +Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside +the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some +slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard +the hoarse roar of the doctor’s voice and saw the fury with which +he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few +minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as +the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. + +“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the +gathering darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you +to-night. There is a distinct element of danger.” + +“Can I be of assistance?” + +“Your presence might be invaluable.” + +“Then I shall certainly come.” + +“It is very kind of you.” + +“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms +than was visible to me.” + +“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine +that you saw all that I did.” + +“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose +that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.” + +“You saw the ventilator, too?” + +“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to +have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a +rat could hardly pass through.” + +“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to +Stoke Moran.” + +“My dear Holmes!” + +“Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her +sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that +suggested at once that there must be a communication between the +two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been +remarked upon at the coroner’s inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.” + +“But what harm can there be in that?” + +“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A +ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the +bed dies. Does not that strike you?” + +“I cannot as yet see any connection.” + +“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?” + +“No.” + +“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened +like that before?” + +“I cannot say that I have.” + +“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same +relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may +call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.” + +“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. +We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible +crime.” + +“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong +he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. +Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. +This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall +be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough +before the night is over; for goodness’ sake let us have a quiet +pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more +cheerful.” + +
+ +About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, +and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours +passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of +eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us. + +“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it +comes from the middle window.” + +As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, +explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, +and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A +moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing +in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us +through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand. + +There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for +unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way +among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about +to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel +bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted +child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and +then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness. + +“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?” + +Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like +a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low +laugh and put his lips to my ear. + +“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.” + +I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There +was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders +at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, +after following Holmes’ example and slipping off my shoes, I +found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed +the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes +round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then +creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered +into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to +distinguish the words: + +“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.” + +I nodded to show that I had heard. + +“We must sit without light. He would see it through the +ventilator.” + +I nodded again. + +“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your +pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of +the bed, and you in that chair.” + +I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. + +Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon +the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the +stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left +in darkness. + +How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a +sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my +companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same +state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut +off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness. + +From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at +our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that +the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the +deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of +an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and +one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for +whatever might befall. + +Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the +direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was +succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. +Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle +sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the +smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. +Then suddenly another sound became audible—a very gentle, +soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping +continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes +sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with +his cane at the bell-pull. + +“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?” + +But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I +heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my +weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which +my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face +was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had +ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when +suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most +horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder +and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled +in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the +village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the +sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I +stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it +had died away into the silence from which it rose. + +“What can it mean?” I gasped. + +“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, +after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will +enter Dr. Roylott’s room.” + +With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the +corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply +from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his +heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand. + +It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a +dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant +beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. +Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott +clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding +beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. +Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we +had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his +eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the +ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with +brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his +head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. + +“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes. + +I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began +to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat +diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. + +“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in +India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence +does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls +into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this +creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to +some place of shelter and let the county police know what has +happened.” + +As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, +and throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from +its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into +the iron safe, which he closed upon it. + +
+ +Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of +Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a +narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling +how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed +her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, +of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the +conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly +playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn +of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back +next day. + +“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which +shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from +insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of +the word ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to +explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of +by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an +entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly +reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me +that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not +come either from the window or the door. My attention was +speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this +ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The +discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to +the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was +there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and +coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, +and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was +furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I +was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of +poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical +test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless +man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such +a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be +an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could +distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where +the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the +whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning +light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by +the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. +He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he +thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the +rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the +occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but +sooner or later she must fall a victim. + +“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his +room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in +the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary +in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the +safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to +finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic +clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather +hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. +Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in +order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss +as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the +light and attacked it.” + +“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.” + +“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master +at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and +roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person +it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. +Grimesby Roylott’s death, and I cannot say that it is likely to +weigh very heavily upon my conscience.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..626bfb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.html @@ -0,0 +1,992 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb

+

+ Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. Sherlock + Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, there were only + two which I was the means of introducing to his notice—that of Mr. + Hatherley’s thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton’s madness. Of these the + latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original + observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic + in its details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon + record, even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive + methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The + story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, + like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when set + forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the + facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears + gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to + the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a deep impression + upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly served to weaken the + effect. +

+

+ It was in the summer of ’89, not long after my marriage, that the events + occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned to civil + practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms, + although I continually visited him and occasionally even persuaded him + to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us. My practice + had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great + distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the + officials. One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering + disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring + to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence. +

+

+ One morning, at a little before seven o’clock, I was awakened by the + maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from + Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed hurriedly, + for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and + hastened downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of + the room and closed the door tightly behind him. +

+

+ “I’ve got him here,” he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder; + “he’s all right.” +

+

+ “What is it, then?” I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some + strange creature which he had caged up in my room. +

+

+ “It’s a new patient,” he whispered. “I thought I’d bring him round + myself; then he couldn’t slip away. There he is, all safe and sound. I + must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you.” And off + he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him. +

+

+ I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the table. + He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap + which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of his hands he had a + handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with bloodstains. He + was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, + masculine face; but he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression + of a man who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all + his strength of mind to control. +

+

+ “I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor,” said he, “but I have had + a very serious accident during the night. I came in by train this + morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a + doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid a + card, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table.” +

+

+ I took it up and glanced at it. “Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic + engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the name, style, + and abode of my morning visitor. “I regret that I have kept you + waiting,” said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You are fresh from + a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous + occupation.” +

+

+ “Oh, my night could not be called monotonous,” said he, and laughed. He + laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in his + chair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up against + that laugh. +

+

+ “Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out some + water from a caraffe. +

+

+ It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts + which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone. + Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and pale-looking. +

+

“I have been making a fool of myself,” he gasped.

+

+ “Not at all. Drink this.” I dashed some brandy into the water, and the + colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. +

+

+ “That’s better!” said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly + attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be.” +

+

+ He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my + hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding + fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the thumb should have + been. It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots. +

+

+ “Good heavens!” I cried, “this is a terrible injury. It must have bled + considerably.” +

+

+ “Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have + been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that it was still + bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the + wrist and braced it up with a twig.” +

+

“Excellent! You should have been a surgeon.”

+

+ “It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own + province.” +

+

+ “This has been done,” said I, examining the wound, “by a very heavy and + sharp instrument.” +

+

“A thing like a cleaver,” said he.

+

“An accident, I presume?”

+

“By no means.”

+

“What! a murderous attack?”

+

“Very murderous indeed.”

+

“You horrify me.”

+

+ I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it over + with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back without + wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. +

+

“How is that?” I asked when I had finished.

+

+ “Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I was + very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.” +

+

+ “Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently trying + to your nerves.” +

+

+ “Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, + between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this + wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, for + it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not much in the way of proof + with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me, the clues which + I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether justice will + be done.” +

+

+ “Ha!” cried I, “if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you + desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my + friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police.” +

+

+ “Oh, I have heard of that fellow,” answered my visitor, “and I should be + very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course I must use + the official police as well. Would you give me an introduction to him?” +

+

“I’ll do better. I’ll take you round to him myself.”

+

“I should be immensely obliged to you.”

+

+ “We’ll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a + little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?” +

+

“Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story.”

+

+ “Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an + instant.” I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, + and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new + acquaintance to Baker Street. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting-room in + his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and + smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs + and dottles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully dried + and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece. He received us in his + quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in + a hearty meal. When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance + upon the sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of + brandy and water within his reach. +

+

+ “It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. + Hatherley,” said he. “Pray, lie down there and make yourself absolutely + at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired and keep up + your strength with a little stimulant.” +

+

+ “Thank you,” said my patient, “but I have felt another man since the + doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the + cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so I + shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences.” +

+

+ Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression + which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him, and + we listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor detailed + to us. +

+

+ “You must know,” said he, “that I am an orphan and a bachelor, residing + alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, + and I have had considerable experience of my work during the seven years + that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known firm, + of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time, and having also come + into a fair sum of money through my poor father’s death, I determined to + start in business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria + Street. +

+

+ “I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a + dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. During two years + I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is absolutely + all that my profession has brought me. My gross takings amount to £27 + 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I + waited in my little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I + came to believe that I should never have any practice at all. +

+

+ “Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my + clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me + upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of ‘Colonel + Lysander Stark’ engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the colonel + himself, a man rather over the middle size, but of an exceeding + thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole + face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was + drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed + to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, + his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly + dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than thirty. +

+

+ “ ‘Mr. Hatherley?’ said he, with something of a German accent. ‘You have + been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not only + proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of + preserving a secret.’ +

+

+ “I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an + address. ‘May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?’ +

+

+ “ ‘Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at + this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan + and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.’ +

+

+ “ ‘That is quite correct,’ I answered; ‘but you will excuse me if I say + that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional + qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter that + you wished to speak to me?’ +

+

+ “ ‘Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to the + point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is + quite essential—absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may + expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives in the + bosom of his family.’ +

+

+ “ ‘If I promise to keep a secret,’ said I, ‘you may absolutely depend + upon my doing so.’ +

+

+ “He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had + never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. +

+

“ ‘Do you promise, then?’ said he at last.

+

“ ‘Yes, I promise.’

+

+ “ ‘Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No reference + to the matter at all, either in word or writing?’ +

+

“ ‘I have already given you my word.’

+

+ “ ‘Very good.’ He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across + the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was empty. +

+

+ “ ‘That’s all right,’ said he, coming back. ‘I know that clerks are + sometimes curious as to their master’s affairs. Now we can talk in + safety.’ He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to stare at + me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. +

+

+ “A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to rise + within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. Even my dread of + losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience. +

+

+ “ ‘I beg that you will state your business, sir,’ said I; ‘my time is of + value.’ Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to + my lips. +

+

“ ‘How would fifty guineas for a night’s work suit you?’ he asked.

+

“ ‘Most admirably.’

+

+ “ ‘I say a night’s work, but an hour’s would be nearer the mark. I + simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has + got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right + ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as that?’ +

+

“ ‘The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.’

+

+ “ ‘Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last train.’ +

+

“ ‘Where to?’

+

+ “ ‘To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders of + Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a train from + Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.’ +

+

“ ‘Very good.’

+

“ ‘I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.’

+

“ ‘There is a drive, then?’

+

+ “ ‘Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good seven + miles from Eyford Station.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there would + be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop the night.’ +

+

“ ‘Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.’

+

+ “ ‘That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient hour?’ +

+

+ “ ‘We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to recompense + you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young and unknown + man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your + profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of the + business, there is plenty of time to do so.’ +

+

+ “I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be to + me. ‘Not at all,’ said I, ‘I shall be very happy to accommodate myself + to your wishes. I should like, however, to understand a little more + clearly what it is that you wish me to do.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have + exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I have no wish to + commit you to anything without your having it all laid before you. I + suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?’ +

+

“ ‘Entirely.’

+

+ “ ‘Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that + fuller’s-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found in one + or two places in England?’ +

+

“ ‘I have heard so.’

+

+ “ ‘Some little time ago I bought a small place—a very small place—within + ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to discover that there was + a deposit of fuller’s-earth in one of my fields. On examining it, + however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one, and + that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right + and left—both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These + good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that + which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my + interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, but + unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I took a few of + my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we should + quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we + should earn the money which would enable us to buy the neighbouring + fields. This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help + us in our operations we erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have + already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon + the subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once + became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, + it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it would + be good-bye to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our + plans. That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a + human being that you are going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it + all plain?’ +

+

+ “ ‘I quite follow you,’ said I. ‘The only point which I could not quite + understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in + excavating fuller’s-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like + gravel from a pit.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Ah!’ said he carelessly, ‘we have our own process. We compress the + earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what they are. + But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully into my confidence + now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.’ He rose as he + spoke. ‘I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.’ +

+

“ ‘I shall certainly be there.’

+

+ “ ‘And not a word to a soul.’ He looked at me with a last long, + questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp, he + hurried from the room. +

+

+ “Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very much + astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission which had + been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the + fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price upon + my own services, and it was possible that this order might lead to other + ones. On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an + unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not think that his + explanation of the fuller’s-earth was sufficient to explain the + necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I + should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the + winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having + obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. +

+

+ “At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. + However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the + little dim-lit station after eleven o’clock. I was the only passenger + who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a single + sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the wicket gate, + however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow + upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me + into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. He drew up the + windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as + fast as the horse could go.” +

+

“One horse?” interjected Holmes.

+

“Yes, only one.”

+

“Did you observe the colour?”

+

+ “Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the carriage. + It was a chestnut.” +

+

“Tired-looking or fresh?”

+

“Oh, fresh and glossy.”

+

+ “Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most + interesting statement.” +

+

+ “Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel Lysander + Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think, from + the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that it + must have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in silence all the time, + and I was aware, more than once when I glanced in his direction, that he + was looking at me with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not + very good in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. + I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, + but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save + the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now and then I hazarded + some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but the colonel + answered only in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged. At + last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp + smoothness of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel + Lysander Stark sprang out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me + swiftly into a porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, + right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch + the most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that I + had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, and I + heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away. +

+

+ “It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about + looking for matches and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door + opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar of light + shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a + lamp in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing her face + forward and peering at us. I could see that she was pretty, and from the + gloss with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was + a rich material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as + though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a gruff + monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from her + hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and + then, pushing her back into the room from whence she had come, he walked + towards me again with the lamp in his hand. +

+

+ “ ‘Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few + minutes,’ said he, throwing open another door. It was a quiet, little, + plainly furnished room, with a round table in the centre, on which + several German books were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on + the top of a harmonium beside the door. ‘I shall not keep you waiting an + instant,’ said he, and vanished into the darkness. +

+

+ “I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of + German I could see that two of them were treatises on science, the + others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, + hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side, but an oak + shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully + silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the + passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of + uneasiness began to steal over me. Who were these German people, and + what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And + where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I + knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no idea. For that + matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that + radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet it was + quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the country. + I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up + my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea + fee. +

+

+ “Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter + stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman was standing + in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her, the yellow light + from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face. I could see at a + glance that she was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own + heart. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she + shot a few whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing + back, like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her. +

+

+ “ ‘I would go,’ said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak + calmly; ‘I would go. I should not stay here. There is no good for you to + do.’ +

+

+ “ ‘But, madam,’ said I, ‘I have not yet done what I came for. I cannot + possibly leave until I have seen the machine.’ +

+

+ “ ‘It is not worth your while to wait,’ she went on. ‘You can pass + through the door; no one hinders.’ And then, seeing that I smiled and + shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step + forward, with her hands wrung together. ‘For the love of Heaven!’ she + whispered, ‘get away from here before it is too late!’ +

+

+ “But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in + an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my + fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night + which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should I + slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the + payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a + monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had + shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still shook my head and + declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew + her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several + footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw + up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as + noiselessly as she had come. +

+

+ “The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man with a + chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who was + introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. +

+

+ “ ‘This is my secretary and manager,’ said the colonel. ‘By the way, I + was under the impression that I left this door shut just now. I fear + that you have felt the draught.’ +

+

+ “ ‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘I opened the door myself because I felt + the room to be a little close.’ +

+

+ “He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. ‘Perhaps we had better + proceed to business, then,’ said he. ‘Mr. Ferguson and I will take you + up to see the machine.’ +

+

“ ‘I had better put my hat on, I suppose.’

+

“ ‘Oh, no, it is in the house.’

+

“ ‘What, you dig fuller’s-earth in the house?’

+

+ “ ‘No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. All + we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is + wrong with it.’ +

+

+ “We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat + manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with + corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, + the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had + crossed them. There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above + the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls, and the + damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put + on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the + warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen + eye upon my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent + man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a + fellow-countryman. +

+

+ “Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he + unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us + could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, and the colonel + ushered me in. +

+

+ “ ‘We are now,’ said he, ‘actually within the hydraulic press, and it + would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn + it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the + descending piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons upon + this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside which + receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the manner + which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but there is + some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little of its + force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us + how we can set it right.’ +

+

+ “I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly. + It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous + pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers + which controlled it, I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was + a slight leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of + the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the india-rubber + bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not + quite to fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the + cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who + followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions + as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I had made it clear + to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine and took a good + look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious at a glance that + the story of the fuller’s-earth was the merest fabrication, for it would + be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed for so + inadequate a purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of + a large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a crust + of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was scraping at this + to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered exclamation in German + and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down at me. +

+

“ ‘What are you doing there?’ he asked.

+

+ “I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that + which he had told me. ‘I was admiring your fuller’s-earth,’ said I; ‘I + think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if I + knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.’ +

+

+ “The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my + speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in his grey + eyes. +

+

+ “ ‘Very well,’ said he, ‘you shall know all about the machine.’ He took + a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in the + lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite + secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. ‘Hullo!’ I + yelled. ‘Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!’ +

+

+ “And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart + into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the + leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood + upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough. By its + light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, + jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must + within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, + against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the + colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers + drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and + with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it + flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much + upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my face the weight + would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful + snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the nerve to lie and + look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was + unable to stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush + of hope back to my heart. +

+

+ “I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls + were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line + of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened + as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly + believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. The next + instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon the other + side. The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, + and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told + me how narrow had been my escape. +

+

+ “I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found + myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a woman + bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held a + candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had so + foolishly rejected. +

+

+ “ ‘Come! come!’ she cried breathlessly. ‘They will be here in a moment. + They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the so-precious + time, but come!’ +

+

+ “This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet + and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The latter + led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the + sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the + other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath. My guide + stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wit’s end. Then she + threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of which + the moon was shining brightly. +

+

+ “ ‘It is your only chance,’ said she. ‘It is high, but it may be that + you can jump it.’ +

+

+ “As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the + passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing + forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher’s cleaver + in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window, and + looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the + moonlight, and it could not be more than thirty feet down. I clambered + out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have heard + what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she + were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to go back to her + assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was + at the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round him + and tried to hold him back. +

+

+ “ ‘Fritz! Fritz!’ she cried in English, ‘remember your promise after the + last time. You said it should not be again. He will be silent! Oh, he + will be silent!’ +

+

+ “ ‘You are mad, Elise!’ he shouted, struggling to break away from her. + ‘You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say!’ + He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me with + his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and was hanging by the hands to + the sill, when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, my grip + loosened, and I fell into the garden below. +

+

+ “I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed + off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was + far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly + dizziness and sickness came over me. I glanced down at my hand, which + was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time, saw that my thumb + had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from my wound. I + endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden + buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the + rose-bushes. +

+

+ “How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a very + long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was breaking when + I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my + coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting + of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night’s + adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly + yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came to + look round me, neither house nor garden were to be seen. I had been + lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, and just a little + lower down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to + be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were + it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those + dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. +

+

+ “Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning train. + There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same porter was + on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived. I inquired of him + whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. The name was + strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting for + me? No, he had not. Was there a police-station anywhere near? There was + one about three miles off. +

+

+ “It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to + wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police. It + was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound + dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here. I + put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you advise.” +

+

+ We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this + extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf + one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings. +

+

+ “Here is an advertisement which will interest you,” said he. “It + appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: ‘Lost, on + the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic + engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o’clock at night, and has not been + heard of since. Was dressed in,’ etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last + time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy.” +

+

+ “Good heavens!” cried my patient. “Then that explains what the girl + said.” +

+

+ “Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and + desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand + in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will + leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is + precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard + at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford.” +

+

+ Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, + bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock + Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, + a plain-clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map + of the county out upon the seat and was busy with his compasses drawing + a circle with Eyford for its centre. +

+

+ “There you are,” said he. “That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles + from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. + You said ten miles, I think, sir.” +

+

“It was an hour’s good drive.”

+

+ “And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were + unconscious?” +

+

+ “They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been + lifted and conveyed somewhere.” +

+

+ “What I cannot understand,” said I, “is why they should have spared you + when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the villain + was softened by the woman’s entreaties.” +

+

+ “I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my + life.” +

+

+ “Oh, we shall soon clear up all that,” said Bradstreet. “Well, I have + drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk + that we are in search of are to be found.” +

+

“I think I could lay my finger on it,” said Holmes quietly.

+

+ “Really, now!” cried the inspector, “you have formed your opinion! Come, + now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for the + country is more deserted there.” +

+

“And I say east,” said my patient.

+

+ “I am for west,” remarked the plain-clothes man. “There are several + quiet little villages up there.” +

+

+ “And I am for north,” said I, “because there are no hills there, and our + friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any.” +

+

+ “Come,” cried the inspector, laughing; “it’s a very pretty diversity of + opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your + casting vote to?” +

+

“You are all wrong.”

+

“But we can’t all be.”

+

+ “Oh, yes, you can. This is my point.” He placed his finger in the centre + of the circle. “This is where we shall find them.” +

+

“But the twelve-mile drive?” gasped Hatherley.

+

+ “Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse + was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that if it had + gone twelve miles over heavy roads?” +

+

+ “Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough,” observed Bradstreet thoughtfully. + “Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang.” +

+

+ “None at all,” said Holmes. “They are coiners on a large scale, and have + used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of + silver.” +

+

+ “We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,” said the + inspector. “They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We + even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they + had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old + hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got + them right enough.” +

+

+ But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to + fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station we saw + a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump + of trees in the neighbourhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather + over the landscape. +

+

+ “A house on fire?” asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on + its way. +

+

“Yes, sir!” said the station-master.

+

“When did it break out?”

+

+ “I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and the + whole place is in a blaze.” +

+

“Whose house is it?”

+

“Dr. Becher’s.”

+

+ “Tell me,” broke in the engineer, “is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, + with a long, sharp nose?” +

+

+ The station-master laughed heartily. “No, sir, Dr. Becher is an + Englishman, and there isn’t a man in the parish who has a better-lined + waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I + understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good + Berkshire beef would do him no harm.” +

+

+ The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all + hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and + there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us, + spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front + three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under. +

+

+ “That’s it!” cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. “There is the + gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That second + window is the one that I jumped from.” +

+

+ “Well, at least,” said Holmes, “you have had your revenge upon them. + There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was + crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they + were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the time. Now + keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though + I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now.” +

+

+ And Holmes’ fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no word + has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister German, + or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met a cart + containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in + the direction of Reading, but there all traces of the fugitives + disappeared, and even Holmes’ ingenuity failed ever to discover the + least clue as to their whereabouts. +

+

+ The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which + they had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly severed + human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. About sunset, + however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued the + flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been + reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders and iron + piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our + unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin + were discovered stored in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, + which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have + been already referred to. +

+

+ How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot + where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery were + it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain tale. He had + evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably + small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most + probable that the silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous + than his companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man + out of the way of danger. +

+

+ “Well,” said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once + more to London, “it has been a pretty business for me! I have lost my + thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I gained?” +

+

+ “Experience,” said Holmes, laughing. “Indirectly it may be of value, you + know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of being + excellent company for the remainder of your existence.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..260f45e --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch09.md @@ -0,0 +1,969 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb + +Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. +Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, +there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his +notice—that of Mr. Hatherley’s thumb, and that of Colonel +Warburton’s madness. Of these the latter may have afforded a +finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was +so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that +it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it +gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of +reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The story +has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, +like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when +set forth _en bloc_ in a single half-column of print than when the +facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears +gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads +on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a +deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly +served to weaken the effect. + +It was in the summer of ’89, not long after my marriage, that the +events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned +to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker +Street rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally +even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come +and visit us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I +happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington +Station, I got a few patients from among the officials. One of +these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was +never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send +me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence. + +One morning, at a little before seven o’clock, I was awakened by +the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come +from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I +dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases +were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my +old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door +tightly behind him. + +“I’ve got him here,” he whispered, jerking his thumb over his +shoulder; “he’s all right.” + +“What is it, then?” I asked, for his manner suggested that it was +some strange creature which he had caged up in my room. + +“It’s a new patient,” he whispered. “I thought I’d bring him +round myself; then he couldn’t slip away. There he is, all safe +and sound. I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the +same as you.” And off he went, this trusty tout, without even +giving me time to thank him. + +I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the +table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a +soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of +his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all +over with bloodstains. He was young, not more than +five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, masculine face; but +he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who +was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his +strength of mind to control. + +“I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor,” said he, “but I +have had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by +train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I +might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me +here. I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon +the side-table.” + +I took it up and glanced at it. “Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic +engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the name, +style, and abode of my morning visitor. “I regret that I have +kept you waiting,” said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You +are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself +a monotonous occupation.” + +“Oh, my night could not be called monotonous,” said he, and +laughed. He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, +leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical +instincts rose up against that laugh. + +“Stop it!” I cried; “pull yourself together!” and I poured out +some water from a caraffe. + +It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical +outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis +is over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very +weary and pale-looking. + +“I have been making a fool of myself,” he gasped. + +“Not at all. Drink this.” I dashed some brandy into the water, +and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. + +“That’s better!” said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would +kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb +used to be.” + +He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even +my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four +protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the +thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right out from +the roots. + +“Good heavens!” I cried, “this is a terrible injury. It must have +bled considerably.” + +“Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must +have been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that +it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very +tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig.” + +“Excellent! You should have been a surgeon.” + +“It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own +province.” + +“This has been done,” said I, examining the wound, “by a very +heavy and sharp instrument.” + +“A thing like a cleaver,” said he. + +“An accident, I presume?” + +“By no means.” + +“What! a murderous attack?” + +“Very murderous indeed.” + +“You horrify me.” + +I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered +it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back +without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. + +“How is that?” I asked when I had finished. + +“Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. +I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.” + +“Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently +trying to your nerves.” + +“Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; +but, between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing +evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if they +believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I +have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, +even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so +vague that it is a question whether justice will be done.” + +“Ha!” cried I, “if it is anything in the nature of a problem +which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you +to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the +official police.” + +“Oh, I have heard of that fellow,” answered my visitor, “and I +should be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of +course I must use the official police as well. Would you give me +an introduction to him?” + +“I’ll do better. I’ll take you round to him myself.” + +“I should be immensely obliged to you.” + +“We’ll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to +have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?” + +“Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story.” + +“Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an +instant.” I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my +wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my +new acquaintance to Baker Street. + +Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his +sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of _The +Times_ and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed +of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day +before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the +mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion, +ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal. +When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the +sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of +brandy and water within his reach. + +“It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, +Mr. Hatherley,” said he. “Pray, lie down there and make yourself +absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are +tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant.” + +“Thank you,” said my patient, “but I have felt another man since +the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has +completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable +time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my peculiar +experiences.” + +Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded +expression which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat +opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story +which our visitor detailed to us. + +“You must know,” said he, “that I am an orphan and a bachelor, +residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a +hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my +work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & +Matheson, the well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, +having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of +money through my poor father’s death, I determined to start in +business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria +Street. + +“I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in +business a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. +During two years I have had three consultations and one small +job, and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought +me. My gross takings amount to £27 10s. Every day, from +nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my +little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to +believe that I should never have any practice at all. + +“Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the +office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who +wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with +the name of ‘Colonel Lysander Stark’ engraved upon it. Close at +his heels came the colonel himself, a man rather over the middle +size, but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have +ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose +and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over +his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his +natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his +step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly +dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than +thirty. + +“ ‘Mr. Hatherley?’ said he, with something of a German accent. +‘You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man +who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet +and capable of preserving a secret.’ + +“I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an +address. ‘May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?’ + +“ ‘Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just +at this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both +an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.’ + +“ ‘That is quite correct,’ I answered; ‘but you will excuse me if +I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional +qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter +that you wished to speak to me?’ + +“ ‘Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to +the point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute +secrecy is quite essential—absolute secrecy, you understand, and +of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than +from one who lives in the bosom of his family.’ + +“ ‘If I promise to keep a secret,’ said I, ‘you may absolutely +depend upon my doing so.’ + +“He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I +had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. + +“ ‘Do you promise, then?’ said he at last. + +“ ‘Yes, I promise.’ + +“ ‘Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No +reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?’ + +“ ‘I have already given you my word.’ + +“ ‘Very good.’ He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning +across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was +empty. + +“ ‘That’s all right,’ said he, coming back. ‘I know that clerks are +sometimes curious as to their master’s affairs. Now we can talk +in safety.’ He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to +stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. + +“A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun +to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. +Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from +showing my impatience. + +“ ‘I beg that you will state your business, sir,’ said I; ‘my time +is of value.’ Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the +words came to my lips. + +“ ‘How would fifty guineas for a night’s work suit you?’ he asked. + +“ ‘Most admirably.’ + +“ ‘I say a night’s work, but an hour’s would be nearer the mark. I +simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which +has got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon +set it right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as +that?’ + +“ ‘The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.’ + +“ ‘Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last +train.’ + +“ ‘Where to?’ + +“ ‘To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders +of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a +train from Paddington which would bring you there at about +11:15.’ + +“ ‘Very good.’ + +“ ‘I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.’ + +“ ‘There is a drive, then?’ + +“ ‘Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good +seven miles from Eyford Station.’ + +“ ‘Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there +would be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop +the night.’ + +“ ‘Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.’ + +“ ‘That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient +hour?’ + +“ ‘We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to +recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a +young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the +very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would +like to draw out of the business, there is plenty of time to do +so.’ + +“I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they +would be to me. ‘Not at all,’ said I, ‘I shall be very happy to +accommodate myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to +understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to +do.’ + +“ ‘Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which +we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I +have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all +laid before you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from +eavesdroppers?’ + +“ ‘Entirely.’ + +“ ‘Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that +fuller’s-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found +in one or two places in England?’ + +“ ‘I have heard so.’ + +“ ‘Some little time ago I bought a small place—a very small +place—within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to +discover that there was a deposit of fuller’s-earth in one of my +fields. On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a +comparatively small one, and that it formed a link between two +very much larger ones upon the right and left—both of them, +however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These good people were +absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was +quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my +interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, +but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I +took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they +suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little +deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would +enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been +doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we +erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already +explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon the +subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it +once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our +little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts +came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting these +fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you +promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are +going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all plain?’ + +“ ‘I quite follow you,’ said I. ‘The only point which I could not +quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press +in excavating fuller’s-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out +like gravel from a pit.’ + +“ ‘Ah!’ said he carelessly, ‘we have our own process. We compress +the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing +what they are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully +into my confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I +trust you.’ He rose as he spoke. ‘I shall expect you, then, at +Eyford at 11:15.’ + +“ ‘I shall certainly be there.’ + +“ ‘And not a word to a soul.’ He looked at me with a last long, +questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank +grasp, he hurried from the room. + +“Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very +much astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission +which had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was +glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked +had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that +this order might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the face +and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon +me, and I could not think that his explanation of the +fuller’s-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my +coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell +anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate +a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having +obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. + +“At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. +However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I +reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o’clock. I was the +only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the +platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed +out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of +the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a +word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door +of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either +side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as fast as the +horse could go.” + +“One horse?” interjected Holmes. + +“Yes, only one.” + +“Did you observe the colour?” + +“Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the +carriage. It was a chestnut.” + +“Tired-looking or fresh?” + +“Oh, fresh and glossy.” + +“Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue +your most interesting statement.” + +“Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel +Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I +should think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the +time that we took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat +at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than +once when I glanced in his direction, that he was looking at me +with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not very good +in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. I +tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we +were, but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out +nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now +and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the +journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the +conversation soon flagged. At last, however, the bumping of the +road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive, +and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang +out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a porch +which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of +the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the +most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that +I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, +and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage +drove away. + +“It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled +about looking for matches and muttering under his breath. +Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a +long, golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew +broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she +held above her head, pushing her face forward and peering at us. +I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which +the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich +material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as +though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a +gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly +fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered +something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room +from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the +lamp in his hand. + +“ ‘Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a +few minutes,’ said he, throwing open another door. It was a +quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the +centre, on which several German books were scattered. Colonel +Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the +door. ‘I shall not keep you waiting an instant,’ said he, and +vanished into the darkness. + +“I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my +ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises +on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked +across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of +the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded +across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old +clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise +everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness began +to steal over me. Who were these German people, and what were +they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And +where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was +all I knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no +idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, +were within that radius, so the place might not be so secluded, +after all. Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, +that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room, +humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling +that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee. + +“Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the +utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman +was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind +her, the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and +beautiful face. I could see at a glance that she was sick with +fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own heart. She held up one +shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few +whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back, +like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her. + +“ ‘I would go,’ said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to +speak calmly; ‘I would go. I should not stay here. There is no +good for you to do.’ + +“ ‘But, madam,’ said I, ‘I have not yet done what I came for. I +cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.’ + +“ ‘It is not worth your while to wait,’ she went on. ‘You can pass +through the door; no one hinders.’ And then, seeing that I smiled +and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and +made a step forward, with her hands wrung together. ‘For the love +of Heaven!’ she whispered, ‘get away from here before it is too +late!’ + +“But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to +engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I +thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of +the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to +go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried +out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This +woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout +bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I +cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention +of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties +when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps +was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up +her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and +as noiselessly as she had come. + +“The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man +with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double +chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. + +“ ‘This is my secretary and manager,’ said the colonel. ‘By the +way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just +now. I fear that you have felt the draught.’ + +“ ‘On the contrary,’ said I, ‘I opened the door myself because I +felt the room to be a little close.’ + +“He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. ‘Perhaps we had +better proceed to business, then,’ said he. ‘Mr. Ferguson and I +will take you up to see the machine.’ + +“ ‘I had better put my hat on, I suppose.’ + +“ ‘Oh, no, it is in the house.’ + +“ ‘What, you dig fuller’s-earth in the house?’ + +“ ‘No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. +All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us +know what is wrong with it.’ + +“We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the +fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, +with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little +low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the +generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and no +signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster +was peeling off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in +green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an +air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the +lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon +my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent +man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at +least a fellow-countryman. + +“Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which +he unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three +of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, +and the colonel ushered me in. + +“ ‘We are now,’ said he, ‘actually within the hydraulic press, and +it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were +to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the +end of the descending piston, and it comes down with the force of +many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns +of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and +multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine +goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working +of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will +have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set +it right.’ + +“I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very +thoroughly. It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of +exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and +pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by +the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which allowed +a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An +examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was +round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to +fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the cause +of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who +followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical +questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I +had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the +machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. +It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller’s-earth +was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose +that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a +purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a +large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a +crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was +scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a +muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the +colonel looking down at me. + +“ ‘What are you doing there?’ he asked. + +“I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as +that which he had told me. ‘I was admiring your fuller’s-earth,’ +said I; ‘I think that I should be better able to advise you as to +your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it +was used.’ + +“The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of +my speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in +his grey eyes. + +“ ‘Very well,’ said he, ‘you shall know all about the machine.’ He +took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key +in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it +was quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and +shoves. ‘Hullo!’ I yelled. ‘Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!’ + +“And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my +heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish +of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp +still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining +the trough. By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming +down upon me, slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than +myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a +shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and +dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the colonel to let +me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my +cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with +my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it +flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend +very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my +face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to +think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and +yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black +shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand +erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope +back to my heart. + +“I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the +walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw +a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which +broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For +an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door +which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself +through, and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The panel had +closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few +moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me +how narrow had been my escape. + +“I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and +I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, +while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, +while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend +whose warning I had so foolishly rejected. + +“ ‘Come! come!’ she cried breathlessly. ‘They will be here in a +moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste +the so-precious time, but come!’ + +“This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to +my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding +stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we +reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of +two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we +were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about +her like one who is at her wit’s end. Then she threw open a door +which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon +was shining brightly. + +“ ‘It is your only chance,’ said she. ‘It is high, but it may be +that you can jump it.’ + +“As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the +passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark +rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a +butcher’s cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, +flung open the window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and +wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not be +more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I +hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between +my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, +then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance. +The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at +the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round +him and tried to hold him back. + +“ ‘Fritz! Fritz!’ she cried in English, ‘remember your promise +after the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be +silent! Oh, he will be silent!’ + +“ ‘You are mad, Elise!’ he shouted, struggling to break away from +her. ‘You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me +pass, I say!’ He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the +window, cut at me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and +was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was +conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the +garden below. + +“I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and +rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I +understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, +however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. +I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and +then, for the first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and +that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie my +handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my +ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the +rose-bushes. + +“How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been +a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was +breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with +dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded +thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the +particulars of my night’s adventure, and I sprang to my feet with +the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But +to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house +nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the +hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a +long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the +very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were +it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed +during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. + +“Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning +train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The +same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I +arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel +Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a +carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was +there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three +miles off. + +“It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined +to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the +police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first +to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to +bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do +exactly what you advise.” + +We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to +this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down +from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he +placed his cuttings. + +“Here is an advertisement which will interest you,” said he. “It +appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: +‘Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged +twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten +o’clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was +dressed in,’ etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that +the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy.” + +“Good heavens!” cried my patient. “Then that explains what the +girl said.” + +“Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and +desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should +stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out +pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, +every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall +go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for +Eyford.” + +Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train +together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. +There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector +Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. +Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the +seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford +for its centre. + +“There you are,” said he. “That circle is drawn at a radius of +ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere +near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir.” + +“It was an hour’s good drive.” + +“And you think that they brought you back all that way when you +were unconscious?” + +“They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having +been lifted and conveyed somewhere.” + +“What I cannot understand,” said I, “is why they should have +spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. +Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman’s entreaties.” + +“I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face +in my life.” + +“Oh, we shall soon clear up all that,” said Bradstreet. “Well, I +have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon +it the folk that we are in search of are to be found.” + +“I think I could lay my finger on it,” said Holmes quietly. + +“Really, now!” cried the inspector, “you have formed your +opinion! Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is +south, for the country is more deserted there.” + +“And I say east,” said my patient. + +“I am for west,” remarked the plain-clothes man. “There are +several quiet little villages up there.” + +“And I am for north,” said I, “because there are no hills there, +and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up +any.” + +“Come,” cried the inspector, laughing; “it’s a very pretty +diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do +you give your casting vote to?” + +“You are all wrong.” + +“But we can’t all be.” + +“Oh, yes, you can. This is my point.” He placed his finger in the +centre of the circle. “This is where we shall find them.” + +“But the twelve-mile drive?” gasped Hatherley. + +“Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the +horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that +if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?” + +“Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough,” observed Bradstreet +thoughtfully. “Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature +of this gang.” + +“None at all,” said Holmes. “They are coiners on a large scale, +and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the +place of silver.” + +“We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,” +said the inspector. “They have been turning out half-crowns by +the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could +get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that +showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this +lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough.” + +But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not +destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into +Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed +up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and +hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape. + +“A house on fire?” asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off +again on its way. + +“Yes, sir!” said the station-master. + +“When did it break out?” + +“I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, +and the whole place is in a blaze.” + +“Whose house is it?” + +“Dr. Becher’s.” + +“Tell me,” broke in the engineer, “is Dr. Becher a German, very +thin, with a long, sharp nose?” + +The station-master laughed heartily. “No, sir, Dr. Becher is an +Englishman, and there isn’t a man in the parish who has a +better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, +a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as +if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm.” + +The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all +hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low +hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in +front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in +the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to +keep the flames under. + +“That’s it!” cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. “There is +the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That +second window is the one that I jumped from.” + +“Well, at least,” said Holmes, “you have had your revenge upon +them. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, +when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, +though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to +observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for +your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are +a good hundred miles off by now.” + +And Holmes’ fears came to be realised, for from that day to this +no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the +sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a +peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very +bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but +there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes’ +ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their +whereabouts. + +The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements +which they had found within, and still more so by discovering a +newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. +About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and +they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, +and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save +some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of +the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so +dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored +in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may have +explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been +already referred to. + +How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to +the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained +forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a +very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two +persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other +unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the +silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his +companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out +of the way of danger. + +“Well,” said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return +once more to London, “it has been a pretty business for me! I +have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what +have I gained?” + +“Experience,” said Holmes, laughing. “Indirectly it may be of +value, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the +reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your +existence.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f26ee22 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.html @@ -0,0 +1,1021 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

+

+ The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long + ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the + unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their + more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old + drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have + never been revealed to the general public, and as my friend Sherlock + Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that + no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this + remarkable episode. +

+

+ It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was + still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from + an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I had + remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to + rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had + brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign + throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my + legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers + until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all + aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the + envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s noble + correspondent could be. +

+

+ “Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. “Your + morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a + tide-waiter.” +

+

+ “Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he + answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more interesting. + This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon + a man either to be bored or to lie.” +

+

He broke the seal and glanced over the contents.

+

“Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all.”

+

“Not social, then?”

+

“No, distinctly professional.”

+

“And from a noble client?”

+

“One of the highest in England.”

+

“My dear fellow, I congratulate you.”

+

+ “I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client + is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. It is + just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new + investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have + you not?” +

+

+ “It looks like it,” said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the + corner. “I have had nothing else to do.” +

+

+ “It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read + nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is + always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely + you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?” +

+

“Oh, yes, with the deepest interest.”

+

+ “That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. + Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these + papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he + says: +

+
+

+ ‘MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:—Lord Backwater tells me that I may place + implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I have + determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in + reference to the very painful event which has occurred in connection + with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already in + the matter, but he assures me that he sees no objection to your + co-operation, and that he even thinks that it might be of some + assistance. I will call at four o’clock in the afternoon, and, should + you have any other engagement at that time, I hope that you will + postpone it, as this matter is of paramount importance. Yours + faithfully, + “ ‘ST. SIMON.’ +

+
+

+ “It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and the + noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the outer + side of his right little finger,” remarked Holmes as he folded up the + epistle. +

+

+ “He says four o’clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour.” +

+

+ “Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the + subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order + of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is.” He picked a + red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the + mantelpiece. “Here he is,” said he, sitting down and flattening it out + upon his knee. “ ‘Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son + of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hum! ‘Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief + over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ He’s forty-one years of age, which is + mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late + administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for + Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and + Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive + in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more + solid.” +

+

+ “I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,” said I, “for the + facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I feared + to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand + and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters.” +

+

+ “Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. + That is quite cleared up now—though, indeed, it was obvious from the + first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections.” +

+

+ “Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal column + of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks back: ‘A + marriage has been arranged,’ it says, ‘and will, if rumour is correct, + very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of + the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of + Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That is all.” +

+

+ “Terse and to the point,” remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin + legs towards the fire. +

+

+ “There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of + the same week. Ah, here it is: ‘There will soon be a call for protection + in the marriage market, for the present free-trade principle appears to + tell heavily against our home product. One by one the management of the + noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the hands of our fair + cousins from across the Atlantic. An important addition has been made + during the last week to the list of the prizes which have been borne + away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself + for over twenty years proof against the little god’s arrows, has now + definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty Doran, the + fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran, whose + graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the + Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently + reported that her dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, + with expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the Duke + of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few + years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small + estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not + the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to make the easy + and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.’ ” +

+

“Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning.

+

+ “Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the + Morning Post + to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it would + be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen intimate + friends would be invited, and that the party would return to the + furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius + Doran. Two days later—that is, on Wednesday last—there is a curt + announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon + would be passed at Lord Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. Those are + all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride.” +

+

“Before the what?” asked Holmes with a start.

+

“The vanishing of the lady.”

+

“When did she vanish, then?”

+

“At the wedding breakfast.”

+

+ “Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite + dramatic, in fact.” +

+

“Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.”

+

+ “They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the + honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. + Pray let me have the details.” +

+

“I warn you that they are very incomplete.”

+

“Perhaps we may make them less so.”

+

+ “Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning + paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, ‘Singular + Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding’: +

+

+ “ ‘The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest + consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place + in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in + the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is + only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange rumours which + have been so persistently floating about. In spite of the attempts of + the friends to hush the matter up, so much public attention has now been + drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard + what is a common subject for conversation. +

+

+ “ ‘The ceremony, which was performed at St. George’s, Hanover Square, + was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the bride, + Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord + Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the + bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded + afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where + breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was + caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured + to force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging that + she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a painful and + prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman. The + bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant + interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she + complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her + prolonged absence having caused some comment, her father followed her, + but learned from her maid that she had only come up to her chamber for + an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the + passage. One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the + house thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his + mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his + daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with the + bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with the police, + and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result + in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up to a late + hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the whereabouts + of the missing lady. There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and + it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had + caused the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or + some other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange + disappearance of the bride.’ ” +

+

“And is that all?”

+

+ “Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a + suggestive one.” +

+

“And it is—”

+

+ “That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has + actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a + danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom + for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case is + in your hands now—so far as it has been set forth in the public press.” +

+

+ “And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not have + missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as + the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt that this + will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, Watson, for I + very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory.” +

+

+ “Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page-boy, throwing open the door. + A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and + pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the + steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been to + command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general + appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward + stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he + swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and + thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of + foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow + gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. He advanced + slowly into the room, turning his head from left to right, and swinging + in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses. +

+

+ “Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray take + the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a + little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over.” +

+

+ “A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. + Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already + managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that + they were hardly from the same class of society.” +

+

“No, I am descending.”

+

“I beg pardon.”

+

“My last client of the sort was a king.”

+

“Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?”

+

“The King of Scandinavia.”

+

“What! Had he lost his wife?”

+

+ “You can understand,” said Holmes suavely, “that I extend to the affairs + of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours.” +

+

+ “Of course! Very right! very right! I’m sure I beg pardon. As to my own + case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you in + forming an opinion.” +

+

+ “Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, + nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct—this article, for + example, as to the disappearance of the bride.” +

+

+ Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes.” +

+

+ “But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an + opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by + questioning you.” +

+

“Pray do so.”

+

“When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?”

+

“In San Francisco, a year ago.”

+

“You were travelling in the States?”

+

“Yes.”

+

“Did you become engaged then?”

+

“No.”

+

“But you were on a friendly footing?”

+

+ “I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused.” +

+

“Her father is very rich?”

+

“He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope.”

+

“And how did he make his money?”

+

+ “In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, + invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds.” +

+

+ “Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady’s—your wife’s + character?” +

+

+ The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the + fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “my wife was twenty before her + father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a mining camp + and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has come + from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in + England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any + sort of traditions. She is impetuous—volcanic, I was about to say. She + is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her + resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name + which I have the honour to bear”—he gave a little stately cough—“had I + not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I believe that she is + capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything dishonourable would + be repugnant to her.” +

+

“Have you her photograph?”

+

+ “I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us the full face + of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, + and the artist had brought out the full effect of the lustrous black + hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long + and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to + Lord St. Simon. +

+

+ “The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your + acquaintance?” +

+

+ “Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met her + several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her.” +

+

“She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?”

+

“A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family.”

+

+ “And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a + fait accompli?” +

+

“I really have made no inquiries on the subject.”

+

+ “Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the + wedding?” +

+

“Yes.”

+

“Was she in good spirits?”

+

+ “Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future + lives.” +

+

+ “Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?” +

+

+ “She was as bright as possible—at least until after the ceremony.” +

+

“And did you observe any change in her then?”

+

+ “Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever + seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident however, was + too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing upon the case.” +

+

“Pray let us have it, for all that.”

+

+ “Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards the + vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over into + the pew. There was a moment’s delay, but the gentleman in the pew handed + it up to her again, and it did not appear to be the worse for the fall. + Yet when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in + the carriage, on our way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this + trifling cause.” +

+

+ “Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the + general public were present, then?” +

+

+ “Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open.” +

+

“This gentleman was not one of your wife’s friends?”

+

+ “No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a + common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But really I + think that we are wandering rather far from the point.” +

+

+ “Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful + frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do on re-entering + her father’s house?” +

+

“I saw her in conversation with her maid.”

+

“And who is her maid?”

+

+ “Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with + her.” +

+

“A confidential servant?”

+

+ “A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed her to + take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they look upon these + things in a different way.” +

+

“How long did she speak to this Alice?”

+

“Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of.”

+

“You did not overhear what they said?”

+

+ “Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She was + accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant.” +

+

+ “American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife do + when she finished speaking to her maid?” +

+

“She walked into the breakfast-room.”

+

“On your arm?”

+

+ “No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. Then, + after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, + muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She never came back.” +

+

+ “But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her + room, covered her bride’s dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and + went out.” +

+

+ “Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company + with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had already + made a disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that morning.” +

+

+ “Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and + your relations to her.” +

+

+ Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “We have + been on a friendly footing for some years—I may say on a + very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have + not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint + against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear + little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. + She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was about to be + married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage + celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in + the church. She came to Mr. Doran’s door just after we returned, and she + endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions + towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the + possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police fellows there + in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when + she saw that there was no good in making a row.” +

+

“Did your wife hear all this?”

+

“No, thank goodness, she did not.”

+

“And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?”

+

+ “Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so + serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some + terrible trap for her.” +

+

“Well, it is a possible supposition.”

+

“You think so, too?”

+

+ “I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as + likely?” +

+

“I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.”

+

+ “Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is + your own theory as to what took place?” +

+

+ “Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have + given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it + has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the + consciousness that she had made so immense a social stride, had the + effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife.” +

+

“In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?”

+

+ “Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back—I will not + say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without + success—I can hardly explain it in any other fashion.” +

+

+ “Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis,” said Holmes, + smiling. “And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my + data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that + you could see out of the window?” +

+

“We could see the other side of the road and the Park.”

+

+ “Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I shall + communicate with you.” +

+

+ “Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our client, + rising. +

+

“I have solved it.”

+

“Eh? What was that?”

+

“I say that I have solved it.”

+

“Where, then, is my wife?”

+

“That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.”

+

+ Lord St. Simon shook his head. “I am afraid that it will take wiser + heads than yours or mine,” he remarked, and bowing in a stately, + old-fashioned manner he departed. +

+

+ “It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a + level with his own,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “I think that I + shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this + cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our + client came into the room.” +

+

“My dear Holmes!”

+

+ “I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked + before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to turn + my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally + very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote + Thoreau’s example.” +

+

“But I have heard all that you have heard.”

+

+ “Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me + so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and + something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the + Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these cases—but, hullo, here is + Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler upon + the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box.” +

+

+ The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which + gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas + bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated himself and lit the + cigar which had been offered to him. +

+

+ “What’s up, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You look + dissatisfied.” +

+

+ “And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I + can make neither head nor tail of the business.” +

+

“Really! You surprise me.”

+

+ “Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip through + my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day.” +

+

+ “And very wet it seems to have made you,” said Holmes laying his hand + upon the arm of the pea-jacket. +

+

“Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine.”

+

“In heaven’s name, what for?”

+

“In search of the body of Lady St. Simon.”

+

Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

+

+ “Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?” he asked. +

+

“Why? What do you mean?”

+

+ “Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one + as in the other.” +

+

+ Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. “I suppose you know all + about it,” he snarled. +

+

“Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up.”

+

+ “Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the + matter?” +

+

“I think it very unlikely.”

+

+ “Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in + it?” He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a + wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a bride’s + wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. “There,” said he, + putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile. “There is a little + nut for you to crack, Master Holmes.” +

+

+ “Oh, indeed!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. “You + dragged them from the Serpentine?” +

+

+ “No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. They + have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the + clothes were there the body would not be far off.” +

+

+ “By the same brilliant reasoning, every man’s body is to be found in the + neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to arrive at + through this?” +

+

“At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance.”

+

“I am afraid that you will find it difficult.”

+

+ “Are you, indeed, now?” cried Lestrade with some bitterness. “I am + afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and + your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This + dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.” +

+

“And how?”

+

+ “In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the + card-case is a note. And here is the very note.” He slapped it down upon + the table in front of him. “Listen to this: ‘You will see me when all is + ready. Come at once. F. H. M.’ Now my theory all along has been that + Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with + confederates, no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, + signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly + slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within their + reach.” +

+

+ “Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing. “You really are very fine + indeed. Let me see it.” He took up the paper in a listless way, but his + attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry of + satisfaction. “This is indeed important,” said he. +

+

“Ha! you find it so?”

+

“Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly.”

+

+ Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. “Why,” he + shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!” +

+

“On the contrary, this is the right side.”

+

+ “The right side? You’re mad! Here is the note written in pencil over + here.” +

+

+ “And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which + interests me deeply.” +

+

+ “There’s nothing in it. I looked at it before,” said Lestrade. “ ‘Oct. + 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. 6d., glass + sherry, 8d.’ I see nothing in that.” +

+

+ “Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the note, it + is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate you + again.” +

+

+ “I’ve wasted time enough,” said Lestrade, rising. “I believe in hard + work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good-day, + Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter + first.” He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made + for the door. +

+

+ “Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival + vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. + Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such + person.” +

+

+ Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his + forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away. +

+

+ He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on his + overcoat. “There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor + work,” he remarked, “so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your + papers for a little.” +

+

+ It was after five o’clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no + time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner’s man + with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a youth + whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great + astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid out + upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of + cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie with a group + of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my + two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian Nights, with + no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were ordered + to this address. +

+

+ Just before nine o’clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. + His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye which + made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions. +

+

“They have laid the supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands.

+

“You seem to expect company. They have laid for five.”

+

+ “Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in,” said he. “I am + surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy that + I hear his step now upon the stairs.” +

+

+ It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, + dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very + perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. +

+

“My messenger reached you, then?” asked Holmes.

+

+ “Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have + you good authority for what you say?” +

+

“The best possible.”

+

+ Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead. +

+

+ “What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that one of the + family has been subjected to such humiliation?” +

+

+ “It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any + humiliation.” +

+

“Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint.”

+

+ “I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady + could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was + undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to advise + her at such a crisis.” +

+

+ “It was a slight, sir, a public slight,” said Lord St. Simon, tapping + his fingers upon the table. +

+

+ “You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so unprecedented + a position.” +

+

+ “I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been + shamefully used.” +

+

+ “I think that I heard a ring,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are steps on the + landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, + Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more + successful.” He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman. + “Lord St. Simon,” said he “allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. + Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met.” +

+

+ At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat and + stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into the + breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady had + taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but he + still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, + perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist. +

+

+ “You’re angry, Robert,” said she. “Well, I guess you have every cause to + be.” +

+

“Pray make no apology to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly.

+

+ “Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have + spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the + time when I saw Frank here again I just didn’t know what I was doing or + saying. I only wonder I didn’t fall down and do a faint right there + before the altar.” +

+

+ “Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the + room while you explain this matter?” +

+

+ “If I may give an opinion,” remarked the strange gentleman, “we’ve had + just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, + I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it.” He was a + small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert + manner. +

+

+ “Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank here and I + met in ’84, in McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies, where Pa was working a + claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then one day + father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank here had a + claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer Pa grew the + poorer was Frank; so at last Pa wouldn’t hear of our engagement lasting + any longer, and he took me away to ’Frisco. Frank wouldn’t throw up his + hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing + anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just + fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his + pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had as much as Pa. + So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself + not to marry anyone else while he lived. ‘Why shouldn’t we be married + right away, then,’ said he, ‘and then I will feel sure of you; and I + won’t claim to be your husband until I come back?’ Well, we talked it + over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready + in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to + seek his fortune, and I went back to Pa. +

+

+ “The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he went + prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After + that came a long newspaper story about how a miners’ camp had been + attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank’s name among the + killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa + thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. Not + a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that + Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and we came + to London, and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased, but I + felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in + my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. +

+

+ “Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done my duty + by him. We can’t command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the + altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it + was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to + the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me + out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I + looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as + if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn’t + drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the + clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn’t know what + to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I + glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he + raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him + scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. + As I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and + he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was + only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. + Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to + him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct. +

+

+ “When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and + had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a + few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to + Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those + great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. + I hadn’t been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the + window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and then began + walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed + him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to + me—seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of + his own before marriage also—but I managed to get away from her and soon + overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some + lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding + after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the + Apaches, had escaped, came on to ’Frisco, found that I had given him up + for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon + me at last on the very morning of my second wedding.” +

+

+ “I saw it in a paper,” explained the American. “It gave the name and the + church but not where the lady lived.” +

+

+ “Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for + openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like + to vanish away and never see any of them again—just sending a line to + Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think + of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast-table and + waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding-clothes and things + and made a bundle of them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped + them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we + should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good gentleman, + Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how he found us is + more than I can think, and he showed us very clearly and kindly that I + was wrong and that Frank was right, and that we should be putting + ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us + a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone, and so we came right away + round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am + very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think + very meanly of me.” +

+

+ Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had + listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long + narrative. +

+

+ “Excuse me,” he said, “but it is not my custom to discuss my most + intimate personal affairs in this public manner.” +

+

“Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?”

+

+ “Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure.” He put out his hand + and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. +

+

+ “I had hoped,” suggested Holmes, “that you would have joined us in a + friendly supper.” +

+

+ “I think that there you ask a little too much,” responded his Lordship. + “I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can + hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your + permission I will now wish you all a very good-night.” He included us + all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. +

+

+ “Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company,” said + Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, + for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch and the + blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children + from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag + which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and + Stripes.” +

+
+

+ “The case has been an interesting one,” remarked Holmes when our + visitors had left us, “because it serves to show very clearly how simple + the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be + almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of + events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result + when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard.” +

+

“You were not yourself at fault at all, then?”

+

+ “From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the + lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other + that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. + Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause her + to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have + spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company of + the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be + someone from America because she had spent so short a time in this + country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an + influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change + her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a process + of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then who + could this American be, and why should he possess so much influence over + her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young womanhood + had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So + far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he + told us of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride’s manner, of so + transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, + of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant + allusion to claim-jumping—which in miners’ parlance means taking + possession of that which another person has a prior claim to—the whole + situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the + man was either a lover or was a previous husband—the chances being in + favour of the latter.” +

+

“And how in the world did you find them?”

+

+ “It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in + his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, + of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to + know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of the most + select London hotels.” +

+

“How did you deduce the select?”

+

+ “By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a + glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are + not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I + visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book + that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day + before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the + very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to + be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being + fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give + them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be + better in every way that they should make their position a little + clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. + I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the + appointment.” +

+

+ “But with no very good result,” I remarked. “His conduct was certainly + not very gracious.” +

+

+ “Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be very + gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you + found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think + that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars + that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw + your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still + to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d1b291 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch10.md @@ -0,0 +1,1031 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor + +The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have +long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles +in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have +eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the +gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to +believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to +the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a +considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no +memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of +this remarkable episode. + +It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I +was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came +home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table +waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather +had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and +the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as +a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. +With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had +surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, +saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and +lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the +envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s +noble correspondent could be. + +“Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. +“Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a +fish-monger and a tide-waiter.” + +“Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he +answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more +interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social +summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie.” + +He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. + +“Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all.” + +“Not social, then?” + +“No, distinctly professional.” + +“And from a noble client?” + +“One of the highest in England.” + +“My dear fellow, I congratulate you.” + +“I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my +client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his +case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be +wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the +papers diligently of late, have you not?” + +“It looks like it,” said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in +the corner. “I have had nothing else to do.” + +“It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I +read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The +latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent +events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his +wedding?” + +“Oh, yes, with the deepest interest.” + +“That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord +St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn +over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. +This is what he says: + +>  ‘MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:—Lord Backwater tells me that I +> may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I +> have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you +> in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in +> connection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is +> acting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no +> objection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks that +> it might be of some assistance. I will call at four o’clock in +> the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at that +> time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of +> paramount importance. Yours faithfully, +> “ ‘ST. SIMON.’ + +“It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, +and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink +upon the outer side of his right little finger,” remarked Holmes +as he folded up the epistle. + +“He says four o’clock. It is three now. He will be here in an +hour.” + +“Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon +the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in +their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client +is.” He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of +reference beside the mantelpiece. “Here he is,” said he, sitting +down and flattening it out upon his knee. “ ‘Lord Robert Walsingham +de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hum! ‘Arms: +Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ +He’s forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was +Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The +Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. +They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on +the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in +all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something +more solid.” + +“I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,” said I, +“for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as +remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew +that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the +intrusion of other matters.” + +“Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square +furniture van. That is quite cleared up now—though, indeed, it +was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your +newspaper selections.” + +“Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal +column of the _Morning Post_, and dates, as you see, some weeks +back: ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ it says, ‘and will, if +rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert +St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty +Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San +Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That is all.” + +“Terse and to the point,” remarked Holmes, stretching his long, +thin legs towards the fire. + +“There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society +papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: ‘There will soon be a +call for protection in the marriage market, for the present +free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home +product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great +Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across +the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last +week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by +these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself +for over twenty years proof against the little god’s arrows, has +now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty +Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss +Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much +attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, +and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to +considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the +future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has +been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, +and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small +estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress +is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to +make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a +British peeress.’ ” + +“Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning. + +“Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the _Morning Post_ +to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it +would be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen +intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would +return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been +taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later—that is, on +Wednesday last—there is a curt announcement that the wedding had +taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord +Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices +which appeared before the disappearance of the bride.” + +“Before the what?” asked Holmes with a start. + +“The vanishing of the lady.” + +“When did she vanish, then?” + +“At the wedding breakfast.” + +“Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite +dramatic, in fact.” + +“Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.” + +“They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during +the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt +as this. Pray let me have the details.” + +“I warn you that they are very incomplete.” + +“Perhaps we may make them less so.” + +“Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a +morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is +headed, ‘Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding’: + +“ ‘The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the +greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which +have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as +shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the +previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to +confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently +floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush +the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it +that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what +is a common subject for conversation. + +“ ‘The ceremony, which was performed at St. George’s, Hanover +Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the +father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, +Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the +younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia +Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of +Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been +prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a +woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to +force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging +that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a +painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler +and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house +before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast +with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and +retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some +comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that +she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an +ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the +footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus +apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, +believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his +daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with +the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with +the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which +will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very +singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing +had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There +are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the +police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the +original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some +other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange +disappearance of the bride.’ ” + +“And is that all?” + +“Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is +a suggestive one.” + +“And it is—” + +“That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, +has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a +_danseuse_ at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom +for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole +case is in your hands now—so far as it has been set forth in the +public press.” + +“And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would +not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, +Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I +have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not +dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, +if only as a check to my own memory.” + +“Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page-boy, throwing open +the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, +high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about +the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose +pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His +manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue +impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little +bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off +his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin +upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of +foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, +yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. +He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to +right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his +golden eyeglasses. + +“Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray +take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. +Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this +matter over.” + +“A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, +Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you +have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, +though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of +society.” + +“No, I am descending.” + +“I beg pardon.” + +“My last client of the sort was a king.” + +“Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?” + +“The King of Scandinavia.” + +“What! Had he lost his wife?” + +“You can understand,” said Holmes suavely, “that I extend to the +affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to +you in yours.” + +“Of course! Very right! very right! I’m sure I beg pardon. As to +my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may +assist you in forming an opinion.” + +“Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public +prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct—this +article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride.” + +Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it is correct, as far as it +goes.” + +“But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could +offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most +directly by questioning you.” + +“Pray do so.” + +“When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?” + +“In San Francisco, a year ago.” + +“You were travelling in the States?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did you become engaged then?” + +“No.” + +“But you were on a friendly footing?” + +“I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was +amused.” + +“Her father is very rich?” + +“He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope.” + +“And how did he make his money?” + +“In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, +invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds.” + +“Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady’s—your +wife’s character?” + +The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down +into the fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “my wife was +twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she +ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or +mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than +from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, +with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of +traditions. She is impetuous—volcanic, I was about to say. She +is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her +resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the +name which I have the honour to bear”—he gave a little stately +cough—“had I not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I +believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that +anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her.” + +“Have you her photograph?” + +“I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us the +full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an +ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect +of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the +exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he +closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon. + +“The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your +acquaintance?” + +“Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I +met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now +married her.” + +“She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?” + +“A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family.” + +“And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a +_fait accompli_?” + +“I really have made no inquiries on the subject.” + +“Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the +wedding?” + +“Yes.” + +“Was she in good spirits?” + +“Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our +future lives.” + +“Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the +wedding?” + +“She was as bright as possible—at least until after the +ceremony.” + +“And did you observe any change in her then?” + +“Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had +ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident +however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible +bearing upon the case.” + +“Pray let us have it, for all that.” + +“Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards +the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it +fell over into the pew. There was a moment’s delay, but the +gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not +appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of +the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our +way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause.” + +“Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of +the general public were present, then?” + +“Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is +open.” + +“This gentleman was not one of your wife’s friends?” + +“No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a +common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But +really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point.” + +“Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less +cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do +on re-entering her father’s house?” + +“I saw her in conversation with her maid.” + +“And who is her maid?” + +“Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California +with her.” + +“A confidential servant?” + +“A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed +her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they +look upon these things in a different way.” + +“How long did she speak to this Alice?” + +“Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of.” + +“You did not overhear what they said?” + +“Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She was +accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she +meant.” + +“American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your +wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?” + +“She walked into the breakfast-room.” + +“On your arm?” + +“No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. +Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose +hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She +never came back.” + +“But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to +her room, covered her bride’s dress with a long ulster, put on a +bonnet, and went out.” + +“Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in +company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who +had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that +morning.” + +“Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, +and your relations to her.” + +Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. +“We have been on a friendly footing for some years—I may say on +a _very_ friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have +not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of +complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. +Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and +devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she +heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the +reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I +feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to +Mr. Doran’s door just after we returned, and she endeavoured to +push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my +wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the +possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police +fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. +She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a +row.” + +“Did your wife hear all this?” + +“No, thank goodness, she did not.” + +“And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?” + +“Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as +so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid +some terrible trap for her.” + +“Well, it is a possible supposition.” + +“You think so, too?” + +“I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon +this as likely?” + +“I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.” + +“Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray +what is your own theory as to what took place?” + +“Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I +have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may +say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of +this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a +social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous +disturbance in my wife.” + +“In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?” + +“Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back—I +will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to +without success—I can hardly explain it in any other fashion.” + +“Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis,” said +Holmes, smiling. “And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have +nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the +breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?” + +“We could see the other side of the road and the Park.” + +“Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. +I shall communicate with you.” + +“Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our +client, rising. + +“I have solved it.” + +“Eh? What was that?” + +“I say that I have solved it.” + +“Where, then, is my wife?” + +“That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.” + +Lord St. Simon shook his head. “I am afraid that it will take +wiser heads than yours or mine,” he remarked, and bowing in a +stately, old-fashioned manner he departed. + +“It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting +it on a level with his own,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “I +think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all +this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the +case before our client came into the room.” + +“My dear Holmes!” + +“I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I +remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination +served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial +evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a +trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau’s example.” + +“But I have heard all that you have heard.” + +“Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which +serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some +years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich +the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these +cases—but, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! +You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are +cigars in the box.” + +The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, +which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a +black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated +himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him. + +“What’s up, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You +look dissatisfied.” + +“And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage +case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business.” + +“Really! You surprise me.” + +“Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip +through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day.” + +“And very wet it seems to have made you,” said Holmes laying his +hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket. + +“Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine.” + +“In heaven’s name, what for?” + +“In search of the body of Lady St. Simon.” + +Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. + +“Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?” he +asked. + +“Why? What do you mean?” + +“Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in +the one as in the other.” + +Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. “I suppose you +know all about it,” he snarled. + +“Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up.” + +“Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in +the matter?” + +“I think it very unlikely.” + +“Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found +this in it?” He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the +floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin +shoes and a bride’s wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked +in water. “There,” said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the +top of the pile. “There is a little nut for you to crack, Master +Holmes.” + +“Oh, indeed!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. +“You dragged them from the Serpentine?” + +“No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. +They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me +that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off.” + +“By the same brilliant reasoning, every man’s body is to be found +in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope +to arrive at through this?” + +“At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance.” + +“I am afraid that you will find it difficult.” + +“Are you, indeed, now?” cried Lestrade with some bitterness. “I +am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your +deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as +many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.” + +“And how?” + +“In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the +card-case is a note. And here is the very note.” He slapped it +down upon the table in front of him. “Listen to this: ‘You will +see me when all is ready. Come at once. F. H. M.’ Now my theory all +along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora +Millar, and that she, with confederates, no doubt, was +responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with her +initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped +into her hand at the door and which lured her within their +reach.” + +“Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing. “You really are +very fine indeed. Let me see it.” He took up the paper in a +listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he +gave a little cry of satisfaction. “This is indeed important,” +said he. + +“Ha! you find it so?” + +“Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly.” + +Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. “Why,” he +shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!” + +“On the contrary, this is the right side.” + +“The right side? You’re mad! Here is the note written in pencil +over here.” + +“And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel +bill, which interests me deeply.” + +“There’s nothing in it. I looked at it before,” said Lestrade. +“ ‘Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. +6d., glass sherry, 8d.’ I see nothing in that.” + +“Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the +note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I +congratulate you again.” + +“I’ve wasted time enough,” said Lestrade, rising. “I believe in +hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. +Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom +of the matter first.” He gathered up the garments, thrust them +into the bag, and made for the door. + +“Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival +vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady +St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any +such person.” + +Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, +tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and +hurried away. + +He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on +his overcoat. “There is something in what the fellow says about +outdoor work,” he remarked, “so I think, Watson, that I must +leave you to your papers for a little.” + +It was after five o’clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had +no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a +confectioner’s man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked +with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and +presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean +little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble +lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold +woodcock, a pheasant, a _pâté de foie gras_ pie with a group of +ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, +my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian +Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid +for and were ordered to this address. + +Just before nine o’clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the +room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his +eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his +conclusions. + +“They have laid the supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands. + +“You seem to expect company. They have laid for five.” + +“Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in,” said he. “I +am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I +fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs.” + +It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, +dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very +perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. + +“My messenger reached you, then?” asked Holmes. + +“Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. +Have you good authority for what you say?” + +“The best possible.” + +Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his +forehead. + +“What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that one of +the family has been subjected to such humiliation?” + +“It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any +humiliation.” + +“Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint.” + +“I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the +lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of +doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she +had no one to advise her at such a crisis.” + +“It was a slight, sir, a public slight,” said Lord St. Simon, +tapping his fingers upon the table. + +“You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so +unprecedented a position.” + +“I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have +been shamefully used.” + +“I think that I heard a ring,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are steps +on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view +of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here +who may be more successful.” He opened the door and ushered in a +lady and gentleman. “Lord St. Simon,” said he “allow me to +introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I +think, you have already met.” + +At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his +seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand +thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended +dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out +her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was +as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was +one which it was hard to resist. + +“You’re angry, Robert,” said she. “Well, I guess you have every +cause to be.” + +“Pray make no apology to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly. + +“Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I +should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of +rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just +didn’t know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn’t +fall down and do a faint right there before the altar.” + +“Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave +the room while you explain this matter?” + +“If I may give an opinion,” remarked the strange gentleman, +“we’ve had just a little too much secrecy over this business +already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to +hear the rights of it.” He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, +clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner. + +“Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank here +and I met in ’84, in McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies, where Pa +was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; +but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, +while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to +nothing. The richer Pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last Pa +wouldn’t hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took +me away to ’Frisco. Frank wouldn’t throw up his hand, though; so +he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing anything +about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just +fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and +make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had +as much as Pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of +time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. +‘Why shouldn’t we be married right away, then,’ said he, ‘and +then I will feel sure of you; and I won’t claim to be your +husband until I come back?’ Well, we talked it over, and he had +fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, +that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek +his fortune, and I went back to Pa. + +“The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then +he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New +Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a +miners’ camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was +my Frank’s name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was +very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took +me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. Not a word of news came for a +year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really +dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and we came to London, +and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased, but I felt +all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place +in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. + +“Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done +my duty by him. We can’t command our love, but we can our +actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make +him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may +imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I +glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the +first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked +again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as +if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I +didn’t drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the +words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my +ear. I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop the service and make +a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to +know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to +tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, +and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on +the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the +note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a +line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. +Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now +to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct. + +“When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, +and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but +to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to +have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before +his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to +run away and explain afterwards. I hadn’t been at the table ten +minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of +the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. +I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman +came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to +me—seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little +secret of his own before marriage also—but I managed to get away +from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and +away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and +that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank +had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to +’Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to +England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the +very morning of my second wedding.” + +“I saw it in a paper,” explained the American. “It gave the name +and the church but not where the lady lived.” + +“Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all +for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I +should like to vanish away and never see any of them again—just +sending a line to Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It +was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting +round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So +Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of +them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away +somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we +should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good +gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how +he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very +clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and +that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so +secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord +St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at +once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if +I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very +meanly of me.” + +Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but +had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this +long narrative. + +“Excuse me,” he said, “but it is not my custom to discuss my most +intimate personal affairs in this public manner.” + +“Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?” + +“Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure.” He put out +his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. + +“I had hoped,” suggested Holmes, “that you would have joined us +in a friendly supper.” + +“I think that there you ask a little too much,” responded his +Lordship. “I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent +developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over +them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a +very good-night.” He included us all in a sweeping bow and +stalked out of the room. + +“Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your +company,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a joy to meet an +American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the +folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone +years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens +of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a +quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.” + +
+ +“The case has been an interesting one,” remarked Holmes when our +visitors had left us, “because it serves to show very clearly how +simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight +seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural +than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing +stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. +Lestrade of Scotland Yard.” + +“You were not yourself at fault at all, then?” + +“From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that +the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, +the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of +returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the +morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that +something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was +out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she +seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America +because she had spent so short a time in this country that she +could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence +over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change +her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a +process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an +American. Then who could this American be, and why should he +possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might +be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in +rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got +before I ever heard Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he told us +of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride’s manner, of so +transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a +bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very +significant allusion to claim-jumping—which in miners’ parlance +means taking possession of that which another person has a prior +claim to—the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had +gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a +previous husband—the chances being in favour of the latter.” + +“And how in the world did you find them?” + +“It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held +information in his hands the value of which he did not himself +know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, +but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had +settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels.” + +“How did you deduce the select?” + +“By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence +for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive +hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. +In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I +learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an +American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking +over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I +had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded +to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate +enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them +some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be +better in every way that they should make their position a little +clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in +particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I +made him keep the appointment.” + +“But with no very good result,” I remarked. “His conduct was +certainly not very gracious.” + +“Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be +very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and +wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of +fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully +and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in +the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for +the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away +these bleak autumnal evenings.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2782117 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.html @@ -0,0 +1,1162 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

+

+ “Holmes,” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down + the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his + relatives should allow him to come out alone.” +

+

+ My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in the + pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a bright, + crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep + upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre + of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band by the + traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths + it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey pavement had been + cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously slippery, so that there + were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the + Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman whose + eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. +

+

+ He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a massive, + strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a sombre + yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat brown gaiters, + and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were in absurd + contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he was running + hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man gives who is + little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his + hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most + extraordinary contortions. +

+

+ “What on earth can be the matter with him?” I asked. “He is looking up + at the numbers of the houses.” +

+

+ “I believe that he is coming here,” said Holmes, rubbing his hands. +

+

“Here?”

+

+ “Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I think + that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?” As he spoke, the + man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at our bell + until the whole house resounded with the clanging. +

+

+ A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still + gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his eyes + that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity. For a + while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at + his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his + reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against + the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away + to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the + easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him + in the easy, soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ. +

+

+ “You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?” said he. “You + are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered + yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little problem + which you may submit to me.” +

+

+ The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting against + his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow, set his lips + tight, and turned his face towards us. +

+

“No doubt you think me mad?” said he.

+

“I see that you have had some great trouble,” responded Holmes.

+

+ “God knows I have!—a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so + sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced, + although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private + affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, + and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. + Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer + unless some way be found out of this horrible affair.” +

+

+ “Pray compose yourself, sir,” said Holmes, “and let me have a clear + account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you.” +

+

+ “My name,” answered our visitor, “is probably familiar to your ears. I + am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of + Threadneedle Street.” +

+

+ The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior partner + in the second largest private banking concern in the City of London. + What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens of + London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all curiosity, until with + another effort he braced himself to tell his story. +

+

+ “I feel that time is of value,” said he; “that is why I hastened here + when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your + co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from + there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I + was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise. I + feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet + as clearly as I can. +

+

+ “It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking + business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative + investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and the + number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of laying out + money is in the shape of loans, where the security is unimpeachable. We + have done a good deal in this direction during the last few years, and + there are many noble families to whom we have advanced large sums upon + the security of their pictures, libraries, or plate. +

+

+ “Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card was + brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the name, + for it was that of none other than—well, perhaps even to you I had + better say no more than that it was a name which is a household word all + over the earth—one of the highest, noblest, most exalted names in + England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when he entered, + to say so, but he plunged at once into business with the air of a man + who wishes to hurry quickly through a disagreeable task. +

+

+ “ ‘Mr. Holder,’ said he, ‘I have been informed that you are in the habit + of advancing money.’ +

+

“ ‘The firm does so when the security is good.’ I answered.

+

+ “ ‘It is absolutely essential to me,’ said he, ‘that I should have + £50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times + over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business + and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily + understand that it is unwise to place one’s self under obligations.’ +

+

“ ‘For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?’ I asked.

+

+ “ ‘Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most + certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it + right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should be + paid at once.’ +

+

+ “ ‘I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own + private purse,’ said I, ‘were it not that the strain would be rather + more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the + name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, even + in your case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.’ +

+

+ “ ‘I should much prefer to have it so,’ said he, raising up a square, + black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. ‘You have + doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?’ +

+

+ “ ‘One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,’ said I. +

+

+ “ ‘Precisely.’ He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, + flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he + had named. ‘There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,’ said he, ‘and the + price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would put + the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I am + prepared to leave it with you as my security.’ +

+

+ “I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity + from it to my illustrious client. +

+

“ ‘You doubt its value?’ he asked.

+

“ ‘Not at all. I only doubt—’

+

+ “ ‘The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest about + that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain that + I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter of + form. Is the security sufficient?’ +

+

“ ‘Ample.’

+

+ “ ‘You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of + the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard + of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from all + gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with + every possible precaution because I need not say that a great public + scandal would be caused if any harm were to befall it. Any injury to it + would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls + in the world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. + I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall call + for it in person on Monday morning.’ +

+

+ “Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, calling + for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty £1000 notes. When I was + alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table in + front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the immense + responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, + as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any + misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever consented + to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter the matter now, + so I locked it up in my private safe and turned once more to my work. +

+

+ “When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so + precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers’ safes had been forced + before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible would be the + position in which I should find myself! I determined, therefore, that + for the next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward + with me, so that it might never be really out of my reach. With this + intention, I called a cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, + carrying the jewel with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken + it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room. +

+

+ “And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to + thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep out of + the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants + who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability + is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, + has only been in my service a few months. She came with an excellent + character, however, and has always given me satisfaction. She is a very + pretty girl and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about + the place. That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we + believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. +

+

+ “So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it will not + take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, + Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes—a grievous + disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell + me that I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died I + felt that he was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the smile + fade even for a moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. + Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but + I meant it for the best. +

+

+ “It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my business, + but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and, to speak + the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money. + When he was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, + having charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men + with long purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at + cards and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again to + come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his allowance, + that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried more than once to + break away from the dangerous company which he was keeping, but each + time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to + draw him back again. +

+

+ “And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell + should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently brought him to + my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the + fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world + to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a + brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think + of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of his presence, I am + convinced from his cynical speech and the look which I have caught in + his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and + so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman’s quick insight into + character. +

+

+ “And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when my + brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I adopted + her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is a + sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and + housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She + is my right hand. I do not know what I could do without her. In only one + matter has she ever gone against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her + to marry him, for he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused + him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it + would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his whole + life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too late! +

+

+ “Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I + shall continue with my miserable story. +

+

+ “When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, + I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious treasure which + we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client. Lucy + Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but + I cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur were much + interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I thought it better + not to disturb it. +

+

“ ‘Where have you put it?’ asked Arthur.

+

“ ‘In my own bureau.’

+

+ “ ‘Well, I hope to goodness the house won’t be burgled during the + night.’ said he. +

+

“ ‘It is locked up,’ I answered.

+

+ “ ‘Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have + opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.’ +

+

+ “He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what he + said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with a very grave + face. +

+

+ “ ‘Look here, dad,’ said he with his eyes cast down, ‘can you let me + have £200?’ +

+

+ “ ‘No, I cannot!’ I answered sharply. ‘I have been far too generous with + you in money matters.’ +

+

+ “ ‘You have been very kind,’ said he, ‘but I must have this money, or + else I can never show my face inside the club again.’ +

+

“ ‘And a very good thing, too!’ I cried.

+

+ “ ‘Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,’ said he. + ‘I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some way, and + if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.’ +

+

+ “I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month. ‘You + shall not have a farthing from me,’ I cried, on which he bowed and left + the room without another word. +

+

+ “When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was + safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the house to see + that all was secure—a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I + thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs + I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and + fastened as I approached. +

+

+ “ ‘Tell me, dad,’ said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, ‘did + you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?’ +

+

“ ‘Certainly not.’

+

+ “ ‘She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has + only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is hardly + safe and should be stopped.’ +

+

+ “ ‘You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer it. Are + you sure that everything is fastened?’ +

+

“ ‘Quite sure, dad.’

+

+ “ ‘Then, good-night.’ I kissed her and went up to my bedroom again, + where I was soon asleep. +

+

+ “I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may have + any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon any + point which I do not make clear.” +

+

“On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid.”

+

+ “I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be + particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my + mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two in + the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It had + ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as + though a window had gently closed somewhere. I lay listening with all my + ears. Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps + moving softly in the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating + with fear, and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door. +

+

+ “ ‘Arthur!’ I screamed, ‘you villain! you thief! How dare you touch that + coronet?’ +

+

+ “The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, dressed only + in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding the + coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it + with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned + as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold + corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing. +

+

+ “ ‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You have + destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels + which you have stolen?’ +

+

“ ‘Stolen!’ he cried.

+

“ ‘Yes, thief!’ I roared, shaking him by the shoulder.

+

“ ‘There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,’ said he.

+

+ “ ‘There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call you + a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off another + piece?’ +

+

+ “ ‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it any + longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you have + chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and make my + own way in the world.’ +

+

+ “ ‘You shall leave it in the hands of the police!’ I cried half-mad with + grief and rage. ‘I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.’ +

+

+ “ ‘You shall learn nothing from me,’ said he with a passion such as I + should not have thought was in his nature. ‘If you choose to call the + police, let the police find what they can.’ +

+

+ “By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in my + anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the + coronet and of Arthur’s face, she read the whole story and, with a + scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the house-maid for the + police and put the investigation into their hands at once. When the + inspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood + sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to + charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private + matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was + national property. I was determined that the law should have its way in + everything. +

+

+ “ ‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It would + be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for five + minutes.’ +

+

+ “ ‘That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you have + stolen,’ said I. And then, realising the dreadful position in which I + was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honour but that + of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened + to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation. He might avert it + all if he would but tell me what he had done with the three missing + stones. +

+

+ “ ‘You may as well face the matter,’ said I; ‘you have been caught in + the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. If you + but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the + beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,’ he answered, turning + away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened for any words + of mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I called in the + inspector and gave him into custody. A search was made at once not only + of his person but of his room and of every portion of the house where he + could possibly have concealed the gems; but no trace of them could be + found, nor would the wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions + and our threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after + going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to you to + implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. The police have + openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it. You may go + to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a + reward of £1000. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my + gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!” +

+

+ He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to and fro, + droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words. +

+

+ Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows knitted + and his eyes fixed upon the fire. +

+

“Do you receive much company?” he asked.

+

+ “None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of + Arthur’s. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one + else, I think.” +

+

“Do you go out much in society?”

+

+ “Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it.” +

+

“That is unusual in a young girl.”

+

+ “She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is + four-and-twenty.” +

+

+ “This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her + also.” +

+

“Terrible! She is even more affected than I.”

+

“You have neither of you any doubt as to your son’s guilt?”

+

+ “How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in his + hands.” +

+

+ “I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the + coronet at all injured?” +

+

“Yes, it was twisted.”

+

+ “Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten + it?” +

+

+ “God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it is + too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose were + innocent, why did he not say so?” +

+

+ “Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His + silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular + points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which + awoke you from your sleep?” +

+

+ “They considered that it might be caused by Arthur’s closing his bedroom + door.” +

+

+ “A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door so as to + wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance of these + gems?” +

+

+ “They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the + hope of finding them.” +

+

“Have they thought of looking outside the house?”

+

+ “Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has already + been minutely examined.” +

+

+ “Now, my dear sir,” said Holmes, “is it not obvious to you now that this + matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or the police + were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a simple case; + to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is involved by your + theory. You suppose that your son came down from his bed, went, at great + risk, to your dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, + broke off by main force a small portion of it, went off to some other + place, concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that + nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six into + the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger of being + discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?” +

+

+ “But what other is there?” cried the banker with a gesture of despair. + “If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?” +

+

+ “It is our task to find that out,” replied Holmes; “so now, if you + please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote + an hour to glancing a little more closely into details.” +

+

+ My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, which + I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were deeply + stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that the guilt + of the banker’s son appeared to me to be as obvious as it did to his + unhappy father, but still I had such faith in Holmes’ judgment that I + felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long as he was + dissatisfied with the accepted explanation. He hardly spoke a word the + whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his + breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our + client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope + which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory chat + with me over his business affairs. A short railway journey and a shorter + walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great + financier. +

+

+ Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a + little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, + stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed the + entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a + narrow path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the + kitchen door, and forming the tradesmen’s entrance. On the left ran a + lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the grounds at + all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us + standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the + front, down the tradesmen’s path, and so round by the garden behind into + the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I went into the + dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return. We were + sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in. + She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, + which seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do + not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman’s face. + Her lips, too, were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As + she swept silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense + of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the more + striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong character, with + immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my presence, she went + straight to her uncle and passed her hand over his head with a sweet + womanly caress. +

+

+ “You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you not, + dad?” she asked. +

+

“No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom.”

+

+ “But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman’s instincts + are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will be sorry for + having acted so harshly.” +

+

“Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?”

+

+ “Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should suspect + him.” +

+

+ “How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with the + coronet in his hand?” +

+

+ “Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take my word + for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say no more. It is + so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!” +

+

+ “I shall never let it drop until the gems are found—never, Mary! Your + affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me. Far + from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from London + to inquire more deeply into it.” +

+

“This gentleman?” she asked, facing round to me.

+

+ “No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in the + stable lane now.” +

+

+ “The stable lane?” She raised her dark eyebrows. “What can he hope to + find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that you will + succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin Arthur + is innocent of this crime.” +

+

+ “I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove + it,” returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from his + shoes. “I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mary Holder. + Might I ask you a question or two?” +

+

“Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up.”

+

“You heard nothing yourself last night?”

+

+ “Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard that, and I + came down.” +

+

+ “You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you fasten all + the windows?” +

+

“Yes.”

+

“Were they all fastened this morning?”

+

“Yes.”

+

+ “You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked to your + uncle last night that she had been out to see him?” +

+

+ “Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and who may + have heard uncle’s remarks about the coronet.” +

+

+ “I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her sweetheart, and + that the two may have planned the robbery.” +

+

+ “But what is the good of all these vague theories,” cried the banker + impatiently, “when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the coronet in + his hands?” +

+

+ “Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this girl, + Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I presume?” +

+

+ “Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met + her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom.” +

+

“Do you know him?”

+

+ “Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. His + name is Francis Prosper.” +

+

+ “He stood,” said Holmes, “to the left of the door—that is to say, + farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?” +

+

“Yes, he did.”

+

“And he is a man with a wooden leg?”

+

+ Something like fear sprang up in the young lady’s expressive black eyes. + “Why, you are like a magician,” said she. “How do you know that?” She + smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes’ thin, eager face. +

+

+ “I should be very glad now to go upstairs,” said he. “I shall probably + wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps I had better + take a look at the lower windows before I go up.” +

+

+ He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the large + one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. This he opened and + made a very careful examination of the sill with his powerful magnifying + lens. “Now we shall go upstairs,” said he at last. +

+

+ The banker’s dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, with + a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to the + bureau first and looked hard at the lock. +

+

“Which key was used to open it?” he asked.

+

+ “That which my son himself indicated—that of the cupboard of the + lumber-room.” +

+

“Have you it here?”

+

“That is it on the dressing-table.”

+

Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau.

+

+ “It is a noiseless lock,” said he. “It is no wonder that it did not wake + you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a look at + it.” He opened the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it upon the + table. It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller’s art, and the + thirty-six stones were the finest that I have ever seen. At one side of + the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding three gems had + been torn away. +

+

+ “Now, Mr. Holder,” said Holmes, “here is the corner which corresponds to + that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you will + break it off.” +

+

+ The banker recoiled in horror. “I should not dream of trying,” said he. +

+

+ “Then I will.” Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but without + result. “I feel it give a little,” said he; “but, though I am + exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to + break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think would + happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise like a + pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this happened within a few yards of + your bed and that you heard nothing of it?” +

+

“I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me.”

+

+ “But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, Miss + Holder?” +

+

“I confess that I still share my uncle’s perplexity.”

+

“Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?”

+

“He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt.”

+

+ “Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck + during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault if we do not + succeed in clearing the matter up. With your permission, Mr. Holder, I + shall now continue my investigations outside.” +

+

+ He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any unnecessary + footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour or more he was + at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with snow and his + features as inscrutable as ever. +

+

+ “I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. Holder,” + said he; “I can serve you best by returning to my rooms.” +

+

“But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?”

+

“I cannot tell.”

+

+ The banker wrung his hands. “I shall never see them again!” he cried. + “And my son? You give me hopes?” +

+

“My opinion is in no way altered.”

+

+ “Then, for God’s sake, what was this dark business which was acted in my + house last night?” +

+

+ “If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning + between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it + clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for + you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you place no limit + on the sum I may draw.” +

+

“I would give my fortune to have them back.”

+

+ “Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. + Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again + before evening.” +

+

+ It was obvious to me that my companion’s mind was now made up about the + case, although what his conclusions were was more than I could even + dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I endeavoured + to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to some other + topic, until at last I gave it over in despair. It was not yet three + when we found ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried to his + chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. + With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and + his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class. +

+

+ “I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass above + the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I + fear that it won’t do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be + following a will-o’-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope + that I may be back in a few hours.” He cut a slice of beef from the + joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and + thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his + expedition. +

+

+ I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent + spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked it + down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea. +

+

“I only looked in as I passed,” said he. “I am going right on.”

+

“Where to?”

+

+ “Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time before I get + back. Don’t wait up for me in case I should be late.” +

+

“How are you getting on?”

+

+ “Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham since I + saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a very sweet little + problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. However, I must + not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and + return to my highly respectable self.” +

+

+ I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for satisfaction + than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, and there was even + a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened upstairs, and a + few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that + he was off once more upon his congenial hunt. +

+

+ I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I + retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days + and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness + caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, but when I + came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee + in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible. +

+

+ “You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,” said he, “but you + remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning.” +

+

+ “Why, it is after nine now,” I answered. “I should not be surprised if + that were he. I thought I heard a ring.” +

+

+ It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change + which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and + massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to + me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargy + which was even more painful than his violence of the morning before, and + he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him. +

+

+ “I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he. “Only + two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the + world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes + close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me.” +

+

“Deserted you?”

+

+ “Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was empty, + and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her last night, + in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might + have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say so. It + is to that remark that she refers in this note: +

+
+

+ ‘MY DEAREST UNCLE:—I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and + that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never + have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be + happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do + not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, + do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an + ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving + “ ‘MARY.’ +

+
+

+ “What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it points to + suicide?” +

+

+ “No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution. + I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your troubles.” +

+

+ “Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have learned + something! Where are the gems?” +

+

+ “You would not think £1000 apiece an excessive sum for them?” +

+

“I would pay ten.”

+

+ “That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And + there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? Here is a + pen. Better make it out for £4000.” +

+

+ With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes walked + over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold with three + gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. +

+

With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up.

+

“You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!”

+

+ The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and he + hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. +

+

+ “There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder,” said Sherlock Holmes + rather sternly. +

+

“Owe!” He caught up a pen. “Name the sum, and I will pay it.”

+

+ “No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble + lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be + proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one.” +

+

“Then it was not Arthur who took them?”

+

“I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.”

+

+ “You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know + that the truth is known.” +

+

+ “He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview + with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to + him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very few + details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this morning, + however, may open his lips.” +

+

+ “For heaven’s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!” +

+

+ “I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And + let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and for + you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell + and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.” +

+

“My Mary? Impossible!”

+

+ “It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor + your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into + your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England—a + ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or + conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his + vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered + herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what + he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing + him nearly every evening.” +

+

+ “I cannot, and I will not, believe it!” cried the banker with an ashen + face. +

+

+ “I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your + niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down and + talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable lane. + His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood + there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at + the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved + you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all + other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had hardly + listened to his instructions when she saw you coming downstairs, on + which she closed the window rapidly and told you about one of the + servants’ escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly + true. +

+

+ “Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he slept + badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the middle + of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and, + looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily + along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. + Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some clothes and waited + there in the dark to see what would come of this strange affair. + Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the + passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her + hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran + along and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see + what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, + hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once + more hurry back to her room, passing quite close to where he stood hid + behind the curtain. +

+

+ “As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a + horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she + was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you, + and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he + was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and + ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. + Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there + was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the + coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son struck + Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something suddenly snapped, + and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands, rushed back, + closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed that the + coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavouring to + straighten it when you appeared upon the scene.” +

+

“Is it possible?” gasped the banker.

+

+ “You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he felt + that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain the true + state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little + enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, + however, and preserved her secret.” +

+

+ “And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet,” + cried Mr. Holder. “Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his + asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow wanted + to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How + cruelly I have misjudged him!” +

+

+ “When I arrived at the house,” continued Holmes, “I at once went very + carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow which + might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening before, and + also that there had been a strong frost to preserve impressions. I + passed along the tradesmen’s path, but found it all trampled down and + indistinguishable. Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the + kitchen door, a woman had stood and talked with a man, whose round + impressions on one side showed that he had a wooden leg. I could even + tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to + the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while + Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the + time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had + already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed round the + garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, which I took to + be the police; but when I got into the stable lane a very long and + complex story was written in the snow in front of me. +

+

+ “There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second double + line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked feet. I was + at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter was your + son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and + as his tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it + was obvious that he had passed after the other. I followed them up and + found they led to the hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow + away while waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred + yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, where + the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, and, finally, + where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me that I was not + mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of + blood showed that it was he who had been hurt. When he came to the + highroad at the other end, I found that the pavement had been cleared, + so there was an end to that clue. +

+

+ “On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill + and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see + that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an + instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then + beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man + had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed + had been overseen by your son; he had pursued the thief; had struggled + with him; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength + causing injuries which neither alone could have effected. He had + returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his + opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and + who was it brought him the coronet? +

+

+ “It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, + whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Now, I knew + that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained your + niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why should your son allow + himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason. + As he loved his cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why + he should retain her secret—the more so as the secret was a disgraceful + one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and how she + had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture became a + certainty. +

+

+ “And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, for who + else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must feel to you? I + knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends was a + very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had heard of + him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It must have + been he who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even though + he knew that Arthur had discovered him, he might still flatter himself + that he was safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising + his own family. +

+

+ “Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next. I + went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George’s house, managed to pick up + an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head + the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made + all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed + down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the tracks.” +

+

+ “I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening,” said Mr. + Holder. +

+

+ “Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and + changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for + I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew + that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the + matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. + But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he tried to + bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, + however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then + he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give him a + price for the stones he held—£1000 apiece. That brought out the first + signs of grief that he had shown. ‘Why, dash it all!’ said he, ‘I’ve let + them go at six hundred for the three!’ I soon managed to get the address + of the receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no + prosecution. Off I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our + stones at £1000 apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that + all was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o’clock, after + what I may call a really hard day’s work.” +

+

+ “A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said the + banker, rising. “Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall + not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed + exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear boy + to apologise to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to what you + tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my very heart. Not even your skill can + inform me where she is now.” +

+

+ “I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is wherever + Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her + sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment.” +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f55d406 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch11.md @@ -0,0 +1,1132 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet + +“Holmes,” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking +down the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather +sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone.” + +My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands +in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It +was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day +before still lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the +wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed +into a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and +on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as +when it fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but +was still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer +passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the +Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman +whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. + +He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a +massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was +dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining +hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet +his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress +and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little +springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to +set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and +down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most +extraordinary contortions. + +“What on earth can be the matter with him?” I asked. “He is +looking up at the numbers of the houses.” + +“I believe that he is coming here,” said Holmes, rubbing his +hands. + +“Here?” + +“Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I +think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?” As +he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and +pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the +clanging. + +A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still +gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in +his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and +pity. For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his +body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the +extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his +feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we +both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room. +Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting +beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, +soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ. + +“You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?” said he. +“You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have +recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into +any little problem which you may submit to me.” + +The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting +against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his +brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. + +“No doubt you think me mad?” said he. + +“I see that you have had some great trouble,” responded Holmes. + +“God knows I have!—a trouble which is enough to unseat my +reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might +have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet +borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; +but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have +been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. +The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found +out of this horrible affair.” + +“Pray compose yourself, sir,” said Holmes, “and let me have a +clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen +you.” + +“My name,” answered our visitor, “is probably familiar to your +ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & +Stevenson, of Threadneedle Street.” + +The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior +partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City +of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the +foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We +waited, all curiosity, until with another effort he braced +himself to tell his story. + +“I feel that time is of value,” said he; “that is why I hastened +here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure +your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and +hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this +snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who +takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the +facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can. + +“It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking +business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative +investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection +and the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means +of laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security +is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction +during the last few years, and there are many noble families to +whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their +pictures, libraries, or plate. + +“Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a +card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I +saw the name, for it was that of none other than—well, perhaps +even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name +which is a household word all over the earth—one of the highest, +noblest, most exalted names in England. I was overwhelmed by the +honour and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but he plunged +at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry +quickly through a disagreeable task. + +“ ‘Mr. Holder,’ said he, ‘I have been informed that you are in the +habit of advancing money.’ + +“ ‘The firm does so when the security is good.’ I answered. + +“ ‘It is absolutely essential to me,’ said he, ‘that I should have +£50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a +sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it +a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my +position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place +one’s self under obligations.’ + +“ ‘For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?’ I asked. + +“ ‘Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most +certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you +think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the +money should be paid at once.’ + +“ ‘I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my +own private purse,’ said I, ‘were it not that the strain would be +rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do +it in the name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must +insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution +should be taken.’ + +“ ‘I should much prefer to have it so,’ said he, raising up a +square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. +‘You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?’ + +“ ‘One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,’ +said I. + +“ ‘Precisely.’ He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, +flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery +which he had named. ‘There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,’ said +he, ‘and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The +lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the +sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you as my +security.’ + +“I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some +perplexity from it to my illustrious client. + +“ ‘You doubt its value?’ he asked. + +“ ‘Not at all. I only doubt—’ + +“ ‘The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest +about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely +certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a +pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?’ + +“ ‘Ample.’ + +“ ‘You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof +of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I +have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to +refrain from all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to +preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I +need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any +harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as +serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the +world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. +I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall +call for it in person on Monday morning.’ + +“Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, +calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty £1000 +notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the +precious case lying upon the table in front of me, I could not +but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility +which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, as it +was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any +misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever +consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter +the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned +once more to my work. + +“When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave +so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers’ safes had +been forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how +terrible would be the position in which I should find myself! I +determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always +carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might +never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a +cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel +with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs +and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room. + +“And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to +thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep +out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three +maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose +absolute reliability is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy +Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few +months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has +always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has +attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place. +That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we +believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. + +“So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it +will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an +only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. +Holmes—a grievous disappointment. I have no doubt that I am +myself to blame. People tell me that I have spoiled him. Very +likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I +had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a +moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it +would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I +meant it for the best. + +“It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my +business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, +wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the +handling of large sums of money. When he was young he became a +member of an aristocratic club, and there, having charming +manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long +purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards +and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again +to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his +allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried +more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he +was keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir +George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again. + +“And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George +Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently +brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could +hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than +Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been +everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of +great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far +away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his +cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that +he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, +too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman’s quick insight into +character. + +“And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but +when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the +world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my +daughter. She is a sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, +a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and +gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do not know +what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone +against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for +he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused him. I +think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it +would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his +whole life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too late! + +“Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and +I shall continue with my miserable story. + +“When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after +dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious +treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name +of my client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am +sure, left the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. +Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous +coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it. + +“ ‘Where have you put it?’ asked Arthur. + +“ ‘In my own bureau.’ + +“ ‘Well, I hope to goodness the house won’t be burgled during the +night.’ said he. + +“ ‘It is locked up,’ I answered. + +“ ‘Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I +have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.’ + +“He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of +what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with +a very grave face. + +“ ‘Look here, dad,’ said he with his eyes cast down, ‘can you let +me have £200?’ + +“ ‘No, I cannot!’ I answered sharply. ‘I have been far too +generous with you in money matters.’ + +“ ‘You have been very kind,’ said he, ‘but I must have this money, +or else I can never show my face inside the club again.’ + +“ ‘And a very good thing, too!’ I cried. + +“ ‘Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,’ +said he. ‘I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money +in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try +other means.’ + +“I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the +month. ‘You shall not have a farthing from me,’ I cried, on which +he bowed and left the room without another word. + +“When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my +treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go +round the house to see that all was secure—a duty which I +usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform +myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself +at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as +I approached. + +“ ‘Tell me, dad,’ said she, looking, I thought, a little +disturbed, ‘did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out +to-night?’ + +“ ‘Certainly not.’ + +“ ‘She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she +has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that +it is hardly safe and should be stopped.’ + +“ ‘You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer +it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?’ + +“ ‘Quite sure, dad.’ + +“ ‘Then, good-night.’ I kissed her and went up to my bedroom +again, where I was soon asleep. + +“I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may +have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question +me upon any point which I do not make clear.” + +“On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid.” + +“I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be +particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety +in my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. +About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in +the house. It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an +impression behind it as though a window had gently closed +somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my +horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in +the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, +and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door. + +“ ‘Arthur!’ I screamed, ‘you villain! you thief! How dare you +touch that coronet?’ + +“The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, +dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the +light, holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be +wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry +he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I +snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with +three of the beryls in it, was missing. + +“ ‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You have +destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the +jewels which you have stolen?’ + +“ ‘Stolen!’ he cried. + +“ ‘Yes, thief!’ I roared, shaking him by the shoulder. + +“ ‘There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,’ said he. + +“ ‘There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I +call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to +tear off another piece?’ + +“ ‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it +any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, +since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in +the morning and make my own way in the world.’ + +“ ‘You shall leave it in the hands of the police!’ I cried +half-mad with grief and rage. ‘I shall have this matter probed to +the bottom.’ + +“ ‘You shall learn nothing from me,’ said he with a passion such +as I should not have thought was in his nature. ‘If you choose to +call the police, let the police find what they can.’ + +“By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my +voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, +at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur’s face, she read the +whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the +ground. I sent the house-maid for the police and put the +investigation into their hands at once. When the inspector and a +constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with +his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge +him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private +matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was +national property. I was determined that the law should have its +way in everything. + +“ ‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It +would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the +house for five minutes.’ + +“ ‘That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you +have stolen,’ said I. And then, realising the dreadful position +in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only +my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at +stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would +convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but tell +me what he had done with the three missing stones. + +“ ‘You may as well face the matter,’ said I; ‘you have been caught +in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. +If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling +us where the beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.’ + +“ ‘Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,’ he answered, +turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened +for any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for +it. I called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search +was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of +every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed +the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the +wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our +threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after +going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to +you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. +The police have openly confessed that they can at present make +nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think +necessary. I have already offered a reward of £1000. My +God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son +in one night. Oh, what shall I do!” + +He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to +and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got +beyond words. + +Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows +knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. + +“Do you receive much company?” he asked. + +“None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of +Arthur’s. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No +one else, I think.” + +“Do you go out much in society?” + +“Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for +it.” + +“That is unusual in a young girl.” + +“She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She +is four-and-twenty.” + +“This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to +her also.” + +“Terrible! She is even more affected than I.” + +“You have neither of you any doubt as to your son’s guilt?” + +“How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet +in his hands.” + +“I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of +the coronet at all injured?” + +“Yes, it was twisted.” + +“Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to +straighten it?” + +“God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. +But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If +his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?” + +“Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? +His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several +singular points about the case. What did the police think of the +noise which awoke you from your sleep?” + +“They considered that it might be caused by Arthur’s closing his +bedroom door.” + +“A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door +so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the +disappearance of these gems?” + +“They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture +in the hope of finding them.” + +“Have they thought of looking outside the house?” + +“Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has +already been minutely examined.” + +“Now, my dear sir,” said Holmes, “is it not obvious to you now +that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you +or the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you +to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider +what is involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came +down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, +opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main +force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, +concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that +nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six +into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger +of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?” + +“But what other is there?” cried the banker with a gesture of +despair. “If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain +them?” + +“It is our task to find that out,” replied Holmes; “so now, if +you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, +and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into +details.” + +My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, +which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy +were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I +confess that the guilt of the banker’s son appeared to me to be +as obvious as it did to his unhappy father, but still I had such +faith in Holmes’ judgment that I felt that there must be some +grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted +explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the +southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his breast and his +hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our client +appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope +which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a +desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short railway +journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest +residence of the great financier. + +Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing +back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a +snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates +which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden +thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges +stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the +tradesmen’s entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the +stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a +public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing +at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the +front, down the tradesmen’s path, and so round by the garden +behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I +went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should +return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and +a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle height, +slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker against +the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have ever +seen such deadly paleness in a woman’s face. Her lips, too, were +bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept +silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of +grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the +more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong +character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding +my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand +over his head with a sweet womanly caress. + +“You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you +not, dad?” she asked. + +“No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom.” + +“But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman’s +instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will +be sorry for having acted so harshly.” + +“Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?” + +“Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should +suspect him.” + +“How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with +the coronet in his hand?” + +“Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take +my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say +no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in +prison!” + +“I shall never let it drop until the gems are found—never, Mary! +Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences +to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman +down from London to inquire more deeply into it.” + +“This gentleman?” she asked, facing round to me. + +“No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in +the stable lane now.” + +“The stable lane?” She raised her dark eyebrows. “What can he +hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, +that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, +that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime.” + +“I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may +prove it,” returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the +snow from his shoes. “I believe I have the honour of addressing +Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?” + +“Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up.” + +“You heard nothing yourself last night?” + +“Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard +that, and I came down.” + +“You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you +fasten all the windows?” + +“Yes.” + +“Were they all fastened this morning?” + +“Yes.” + +“You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked +to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?” + +“Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and +who may have heard uncle’s remarks about the coronet.” + +“I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her +sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery.” + +“But what is the good of all these vague theories,” cried the +banker impatiently, “when I have told you that I saw Arthur with +the coronet in his hands?” + +“Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this +girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I +presume?” + +“Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I +met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom.” + +“Do you know him?” + +“Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. +His name is Francis Prosper.” + +“He stood,” said Holmes, “to the left of the door—that is to +say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?” + +“Yes, he did.” + +“And he is a man with a wooden leg?” + +Something like fear sprang up in the young lady’s expressive +black eyes. “Why, you are like a magician,” said she. “How do you +know that?” She smiled, but there was no answering smile in +Holmes’ thin, eager face. + +“I should be very glad now to go upstairs,” said he. “I shall +probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps +I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up.” + +He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at +the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. +This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill +with his powerful magnifying lens. “Now we shall go upstairs,” +said he at last. + +The banker’s dressing-room was a plainly furnished little +chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. +Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock. + +“Which key was used to open it?” he asked. + +“That which my son himself indicated—that of the cupboard of the +lumber-room.” + +“Have you it here?” + +“That is it on the dressing-table.” + +Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau. + +“It is a noiseless lock,” said he. “It is no wonder that it did +not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must +have a look at it.” He opened the case, and taking out the diadem +he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the +jeweller’s art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I +have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, +where a corner holding three gems had been torn away. + +“Now, Mr. Holder,” said Holmes, “here is the corner which +corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I +beg that you will break it off.” + +The banker recoiled in horror. “I should not dream of trying,” +said he. + +“Then I will.” Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but +without result. “I feel it give a little,” said he; “but, though +I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my +time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do +you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would +be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this +happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard +nothing of it?” + +“I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me.” + +“But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, +Miss Holder?” + +“I confess that I still share my uncle’s perplexity.” + +“Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?” + +“He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt.” + +“Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary +luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault +if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your +permission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations +outside.” + +He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any +unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an +hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet +heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever. + +“I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. +Holder,” said he; “I can serve you best by returning to my +rooms.” + +“But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?” + +“I cannot tell.” + +The banker wrung his hands. “I shall never see them again!” he +cried. “And my son? You give me hopes?” + +“My opinion is in no way altered.” + +“Then, for God’s sake, what was this dark business which was +acted in my house last night?” + +“If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow +morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to +make it clearer. I understand that you give me _carte blanche_ to +act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you +place no limit on the sum I may draw.” + +“I would give my fortune to have them back.” + +“Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. +Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here +again before evening.” + +It was obvious to me that my companion’s mind was now made up +about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than +I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward +journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always +glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in +despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our +rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in +a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned +up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he +was a perfect sample of the class. + +“I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass +above the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, +Watson, but I fear that it won’t do. I may be on the trail in +this matter, or I may be following a will-o’-the-wisp, but I +shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few +hours.” He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, +sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this +rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition. + +I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in +excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his +hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a +cup of tea. + +“I only looked in as I passed,” said he. “I am going right on.” + +“Where to?” + +“Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time +before I get back. Don’t wait up for me in case I should be +late.” + +“How are you getting on?” + +“Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham +since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a +very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a +good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get +these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly +respectable self.” + +I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for +satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, +and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He +hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of +the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his +congenial hunt. + +I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so +I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away +for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that +his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he +came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there +he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the +other, as fresh and trim as possible. + +“You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,” said he, “but +you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this +morning.” + +“Why, it is after nine now,” I answered. “I should not be +surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring.” + +It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the +change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally +of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, +while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered +with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than +his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into +the armchair which I pushed forward for him. + +“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said +he. “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without +a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured +age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, +Mary, has deserted me.” + +“Deserted you?” + +“Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was +empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to +her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had +married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was +thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers +in this note: + +>  ‘MY DEAREST UNCLE:—I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, +> and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune +> might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my +> mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must +> leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is +> provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will +> be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in +> death, I am ever your loving +> “ ‘MARY.’ + +“What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it +points to suicide?” + +“No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible +solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of +your troubles.” + +“Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have +learned something! Where are the gems?” + +“You would not think £1000 apiece an excessive sum for +them?” + +“I would pay ten.” + +“That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. +And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? +Here is a pen. Better make it out for £4000.” + +With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes +walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of +gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. + +With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up. + +“You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!” + +The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and +he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. + +“There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder,” said Sherlock +Holmes rather sternly. + +“Owe!” He caught up a pen. “Name the sum, and I will pay it.” + +“No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that +noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I +should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to +have one.” + +“Then it was not Arthur who took them?” + +“I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.” + +“You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him +know that the truth is known.” + +“He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an +interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the +story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was +right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite +clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his +lips.” + +“For heaven’s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary +mystery!” + +“I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached +it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me +to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding +between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now +fled together.” + +“My Mary? Impossible!” + +“It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither +you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you +admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most +dangerous men in England—a ruined gambler, an absolutely +desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece +knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he +had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she +alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, +but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing +him nearly every evening.” + +“I cannot, and I will not, believe it!” cried the banker with an +ashen face. + +“I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. +Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, +slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which +leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right +through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the +coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he +bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but +there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all +other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had +hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming +downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you +about one of the servants’ escapade with her wooden-legged lover, +which was all perfectly true. + +“Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but +he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. +In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, +so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin +walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared +into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad +slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what +would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the +room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw +that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed +down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and +slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see +what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the +window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then +closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close +to where he stood hid behind the curtain. + +“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action +without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the +instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune +this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it +right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened +the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, +where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George +Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was +a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the +coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son +struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something +suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet +in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your +room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in +the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you +appeared upon the scene.” + +“Is it possible?” gasped the banker. + +“You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when +he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not +explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who +certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He +took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her +secret.” + +“And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the +coronet,” cried Mr. Holder. “Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have +been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! +The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the +scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!” + +“When I arrived at the house,” continued Holmes, “I at once went +very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in +the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since +the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost +to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen’s path, but +found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, +however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood +and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed +that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been +disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was +shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had +waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time +that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had +already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed +round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, +which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable +lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in +front of me. + +“There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second +double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked +feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the +latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the +other had run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over +the depression of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed +after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the +hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while +waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred +yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, +where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, +and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me +that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and +another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been +hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that +the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue. + +“On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the +sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could +at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the +outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming +in. I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what +had occurred. A man had waited outside the window; someone had +brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son; he had +pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged +at the coronet, their united strength causing injuries which +neither alone could have effected. He had returned with the +prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent. So +far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and who +was it brought him the coronet? + +“It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the +impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the +truth. Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, +so there only remained your niece and the maids. But if it were +the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in +their place? There could be no possible reason. As he loved his +cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should +retain her secret—the more so as the secret was a disgraceful +one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and +how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture +became a certainty. + +“And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, +for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must +feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your +circle of friends was a very limited one. But among them was Sir +George Burnwell. I had heard of him before as being a man of evil +reputation among women. It must have been he who wore those boots +and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur +had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was +safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising his +own family. + +“Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took +next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George’s house, +managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that +his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at +the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of +his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham and +saw that they exactly fitted the tracks.” + +“I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening,” +said Mr. Holder. + +“Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home +and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to +play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert +scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our +hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of +course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every +particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a +life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I +clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he +became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give +him a price for the stones he held—£1000 apiece. That +brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. ‘Why, +dash it all!’ said he, ‘I’ve let them go at six hundred for the +three!’ I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had +them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I +set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at £1000 +apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all +was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o’clock, after +what I may call a really hard day’s work.” + +“A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said +the banker, rising. “Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but +you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your +skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I +must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I +have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my +very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now.” + +“I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is +wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that +whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than +sufficient punishment.” diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06d120f --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.html @@ -0,0 +1,1172 @@ + + + + + The Adventure of the Copper Beeches + + + + +
+

The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

+

+ “To the man who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock Holmes, + tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, + “it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations + that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to + observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these + little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, + and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given + prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and + sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents + which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for + those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made + my special province.” +

+

+ “And yet,” said I, smiling, “I cannot quite hold myself absolved from + the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records.” +

+

+ “You have erred, perhaps,” he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with + the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont + to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a + meditative mood—“you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and + life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the + task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect + which is really the only notable feature about the thing.” +

+

+ “It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter,” I + remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I + had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend’s + singular character. +

+

+ “No, it is not selfishness or conceit,” said he, answering, as was his + wont, my thoughts rather than my words. “If I claim full justice for my + art, it is because it is an impersonal thing—a thing beyond myself. + Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather + than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should + have been a course of lectures into a series of tales.” +

+

+ It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on + either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick + fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the + opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy + yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer + of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock + Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the + advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having + apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper + to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. +

+

+ “At the same time,” he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat + puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, “you can hardly + be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you + have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not + treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The small matter in which I + endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss + Mary Sutherland, the problem connected with the man with the twisted + lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are + outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear + that you may have bordered on the trivial.” +

+

+ “The end may have been so,” I answered, “but the methods I hold to have + been novel and of interest.” +

+

+ “Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant + public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by + his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! + But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of the + great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all + enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be + degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving + advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have + touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my + zero-point, I fancy. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter across to me. +

+

+ It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran + thus: +

+
+

+ DEAR MR. HOLMES:—I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I + should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me + as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not + inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, + “VIOLET HUNTER.” +

+
+

“Do you know the young lady?” I asked.

+

“Not I.”

+

“It is half-past ten now.”

+

“Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.”

+

+ “It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember + that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim + at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this + case, also.” +

+

+ “Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for + here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.” +

+

+ As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was + plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a + plover’s egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own + way to make in the world. +

+

+ “You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure,” said she, as my companion + rose to greet her, “but I have had a very strange experience, and as I + have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I + thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should + do.” +

+

+ “Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I + can to serve you.” +

+

+ I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and + speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, + and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips + together, to listen to her story. +

+

+ “I have been a governess for five years,” said she, “in the family of + Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an + appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to + America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I + advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last + the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my + wit’s end as to what I should do. +

+

+ “There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called + Westaway’s, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see + whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the + name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss + Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are + seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by + one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything + which would suit them. +

+

+ “Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as + usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout + man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in + fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses + on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came + in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper. +

+

+ “ ‘That will do,’ said he; ‘I could not ask for anything better. + Capital! capital!’ He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands + together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking + man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him. +

+

“ ‘You are looking for a situation, miss?’ he asked.

+

“ ‘Yes, sir.’

+

“ ‘As governess?’

+

“ ‘Yes, sir.’

+

“ ‘And what salary do you ask?’

+

+ “ ‘I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.’ +

+

+ “ ‘Oh, tut, tut! sweating—rank sweating!’ he cried, throwing his fat + hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. ‘How + could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and + accomplishments?’ +

+

+ “ ‘My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ said I. ‘A + little French, a little German, music, and drawing—’ +

+

+ “ ‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘This is all quite beside the question. The + point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? + There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted for the + rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the + history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could any + gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three + figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at £100 a year.’ +

+

+ “You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an + offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing + perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and + took out a note. +

+

+ “ ‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion + until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases + of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies half their salary + beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey + and their wardrobe.’ +

+

+ “It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a + man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great + convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole + transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I quite + committed myself. +

+

“ ‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I.

+

+ “ ‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on + the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young + lady, and the dearest old country-house.’ +

+

+ “ ‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.’ +

+

+ “ ‘One child—one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could + see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three + gone before you could wink!’ He leaned back in his chair and laughed his + eyes into his head again. +

+

+ “I was a little startled at the nature of the child’s amusement, but the + father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking. +

+

+ “ ‘My sole duties, then,’ I asked, ‘are to take charge of a single + child?’ +

+

+ “ ‘No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,’ he cried. + ‘Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey + any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were + such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no + difficulty, heh?’ +

+

“ ‘I should be happy to make myself useful.’

+

+ “ ‘Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you + know—faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which + we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?’ +

+

“ ‘No,’ said I, considerably astonished at his words.

+

+ “ ‘Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?’ +

+

“ ‘Oh, no.’

+

“ ‘Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?’

+

+ “I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair + is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has + been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this + offhand fashion. +

+

+ “ ‘I am afraid that that is quite impossible,’ said I. He had been + watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass + over his face as I spoke. +

+

+ “ ‘I am afraid that it is quite essential,’ said he. ‘It is a little + fancy of my wife’s, and ladies’ fancies, you know, madam, ladies’ + fancies must be consulted. And so you won’t cut your hair?’ +

+

“ ‘No, sir, I really could not,’ I answered firmly.

+

+ “ ‘Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, + because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In + that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young + ladies.’ +

+

+ “The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a + word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance + upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a + handsome commission through my refusal. +

+

“ ‘Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?’ she asked.

+

“ ‘If you please, Miss Stoper.’

+

+ “ ‘Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most + excellent offers in this fashion,’ said she sharply. ‘You can hardly + expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. + Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong upon the table, and I + was shown out by the page. +

+

+ “Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little + enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began + to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if + these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most + extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their + eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting £100 a year. + Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing + it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was + inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after I was + sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the + agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this + letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to + you: +

+

“ ‘The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.

+
+

+ ‘DEAR MISS HUNTER:—Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, + and I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your + decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come, for she has + been much attracted by my description of you. We are willing to give + £30 a quarter, or £120 a year, so as to recompense you for any little + inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very + exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric + blue and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. + You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have + one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which + would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or + there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause + you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, + especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short + interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, + and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the + loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. + Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at + Winchester. Let me know your train. Yours faithfully, + “ ‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’ +

+
+

+ “That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind + is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking + the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your + consideration.” +

+

+ “Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question,” + said Holmes, smiling. +

+

“But you would not advise me to refuse?”

+

+ “I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a + sister of mine apply for.” +

+

“What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?”

+

+ “Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed + some opinion?” +

+

+ “Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle + seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his + wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she + should be taken to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every + way in order to prevent an outbreak?” +

+

+ “That is a possible solution—in fact, as matters stand, it is the most + probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household + for a young lady.” +

+

“But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!”

+

+ “Well, yes, of course the pay is good—too good. That is what makes me + uneasy. Why should they give you £120 a year, when they could have their + pick for £40? There must be some strong reason behind.” +

+

+ “I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand + afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I + felt that you were at the back of me.” +

+

+ “Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your + little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way + for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the + features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger—” +

+

“Danger! What danger do you foresee?”

+

+ Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would cease to be a danger if we + could define it,” said he. “But at any time, day or night, a telegram + would bring me down to your help.” +

+

+ “That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all + swept from her face. “I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind + now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair + to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow.” With a few grateful words + to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off upon her way. +

+

+ “At least,” said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the + stairs, “she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care + of herself.” +

+

+ “And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I am much mistaken if + we do not hear from her before many days are past.” +

+

+ It was not very long before my friend’s prediction was fulfilled. A + fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning + in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human + experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the + curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something abnormal, + though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a philanthropist + or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine. As to Holmes, + I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted + brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of + his hand when I mentioned it. “Data! data! data!” he cried impatiently. + “I can’t make bricks without clay.” And yet he would always wind up by + muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a + situation. +

+

+ The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I + was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those + all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I + would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find + him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. + He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw + it across to me. +

+

+ “Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” said he, and turned back to his + chemical studies. +

+

The summons was a brief and urgent one.

+
+

+ Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow,” + it said. “Do come! I am at my wit’s end. + “HUNTER.” +

+
+

“Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up.

+

“I should wish to.”

+

“Just look it up, then.”

+

+ “There is a train at half-past nine,” said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. + “It is due at Winchester at 11:30.” +

+

+ “That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my + analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the + morning.”

By eleven o’clock the next day we were well upon + our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the + morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire + border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an + ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white + clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very + brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an + edge to a man’s energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling + hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the + farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage. +

+

+ “Are they not fresh and beautiful?” I cried with all the enthusiasm of a + man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. +

+

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

+

+ “Do you know, Watson,” said he, “that it is one of the curses of a mind + with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to + my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are + impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which + comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with + which crime may be committed there.” +

+

+ “Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these dear old + homesteads?” +

+

+ “They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, + founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London + do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and + beautiful countryside.” +

+

“You horrify me!”

+

+ “But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do + in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile + that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, + does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then + the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint + can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the + dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled + for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. + Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may + go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this + lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should + never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which + makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally + threatened.” +

+

“No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away.”

+

“Quite so. She has her freedom.”

+

+ “What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?” +

+

+ “I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover + the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only + be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find + waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall + soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell.” +

+

+ The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance + from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She + had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table. +

+

+ “I am so delighted that you have come,” she said earnestly. “It is so + very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your + advice will be altogether invaluable to me.” +

+

“Pray tell us what has happened to you.”

+

+ “I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to + be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, + though he little knew for what purpose.” +

+

+ “Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his long thin + legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. +

+

+ “In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no + actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them + to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind + about them.” +

+

“What can you not understand?”

+

+ “Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it + occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his + dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, + but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a + house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad + weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the + fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which + curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in + front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord + Southerton’s preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front + of the hall door has given its name to the place. +

+

+ “I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was + introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no + truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable + in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to + be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more + than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than + forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have been + married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only + child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. + Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them + was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the + daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that + her position must have been uncomfortable with her father’s young wife. +

+

+ “Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in + feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a + nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to + her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered + continually from one to the other, noting every little want and + forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, + boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. + And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be lost + in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I + have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the + disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never + met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small + for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His + whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of + passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature + weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows + quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, + and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, + and, indeed, he has little to do with my story.” +

+

+ “I am glad of all details,” remarked my friend, “whether they seem to + you to be relevant or not.” +

+

+ “I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant + thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and + conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, + for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and + whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have been with + them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no + notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, + as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most + unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the + nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of + the building. +

+

+ “For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very + quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and + whispered something to her husband. +

+

+ “ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, turning to me, ‘we are very much obliged to you, + Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I + assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your + appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become + you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you + would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.’ +

+

+ “The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. + It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable + signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if + I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a + delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its + vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very + large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, with three + long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close + to the central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was + asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other + side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that + I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I + laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has + evidently no sense of humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her + hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour + or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the + duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little + Edward in the nursery. +

+

+ “Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly + similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the + window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which + my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told + inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair + a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, he + begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, beginning + in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a + sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress. +

+

+ “You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the + meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were + always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, + so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on + behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised + a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, + and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. On the next + occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my + eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was + behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At + least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I + perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small + bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. + The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there. + This man, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our + field and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and + glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most + searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had + divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. + She rose at once. +

+

+ “ ‘Jephro,’ said she, ‘there is an impertinent fellow upon the road + there who stares up at Miss Hunter.’ +

+

“ ‘No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked.

+

“ ‘No, I know no one in these parts.’

+

+ “ ‘Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to + go away.’ +

+

“ ‘Surely it would be better to take no notice.’

+

+ “ ‘No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round + and wave him away like that.’ +

+

+ “I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down + the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again + in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the + road.” +

+

+ “Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be a most + interesting one.” +

+

+ “You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be + little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the + very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to + a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it + I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large + animal moving about. +

+

+ “ ‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two + planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’ +

+

+ “I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague + figure huddled up in the darkness. +

+

+ “ ‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at the start which I + had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old + Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed + him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as + mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser + whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness’ sake don’t you ever on any + pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it’s as much as + your life is worth.’ +

+

+ “The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look + out of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. It was a + beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was + silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the + peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving + under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine + I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, + with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked + slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. + That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think + that any burglar could have done. +

+

+ “And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you + know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at + the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began + to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging + my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the + two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the + first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was + naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It struck + me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out + my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first key fitted to + perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, + but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of + hair. +

+

+ “I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the + same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself + upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With + trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from + the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I assure + you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I + would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned the + strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the + Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a + drawer which they had locked. +

+

+ “I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I + soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one + wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which + faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this + suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I ascended the + stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, his keys in his + hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to + the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his + brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples + with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a + look. +

+

+ “This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds + with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the + windows of this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, + three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. + They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at + them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and + jovial as ever. +

+

+ “ ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘you must not think me rude if I passed you without a + word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.’ +

+

+ “I assured him that I was not offended. ‘By the way,’ said I, ‘you seem + to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the + shutters up.’ +

+

+ “He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my + remark. +

+

+ “ ‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ said he. ‘I have made my dark room + up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. + Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?’ He spoke + in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. + I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest. +

+

+ “Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was + something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all + on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my + share of that. It was more a feeling of duty—a feeling that some good + might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman’s + instinct; perhaps it was woman’s instinct which gave me that feeling. At + any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance + to pass the forbidden door. +

+

+ “It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, + besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in + these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen + bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and + yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there was + the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it there. + Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, + so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the + lock, opened the door, and slipped through. +

+

+ “There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, + which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were + three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each + led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one + and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light + glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the + outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, + padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other + with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not + there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered + window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that + the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let + in light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister + door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound + of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward + against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the + door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. + My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran—ran as + though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my + dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into + the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside. +

+

+ “ ‘So,’ said he, smiling, ‘it was you, then. I thought that it must be + when I saw the door open.’ +

+

“ ‘Oh, I am so frightened!’ I panted.

+

+ “ ‘My dear young lady! my dear young lady!’—you cannot think how + caressing and soothing his manner was—‘and what has frightened you, my + dear young lady?’ +

+

+ “But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was + keenly on my guard against him. +

+

+ “ ‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. ‘But it + is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran + out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!’ +

+

“ ‘Only that?’ said he, looking at me keenly.

+

“ ‘Why, what did you think?’ I asked.

+

“ ‘Why do you think that I lock this door?’

+

“ ‘I am sure that I do not know.’

+

+ “ ‘It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?’ He + was still smiling in the most amiable manner. +

+

“ ‘I am sure if I had known—’

+

+ “ ‘Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that + threshold again’—here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of + rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon—‘I’ll throw you + to the mastiff.’ +

+

+ “I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must + have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found + myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. + Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I was + frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even + of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you + down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from the house, but + my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. + I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the + office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, + feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I + approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that + Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and + I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence + with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free. I + slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the + thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into + Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o’clock, for + Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the + evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my + adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me + what it all means, and, above all, what I should do.” +

+

+ Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My + friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his + pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face. +

+

“Is Toller still drunk?” he asked.

+

+ “Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with + him.” +

+

“That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?”

+

“Yes.”

+

“Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?”

+

“Yes, the wine-cellar.”

+

+ “You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave + and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one + more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite + exceptional woman.” +

+

“I will try. What is it?”

+

+ “We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend and I. + The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be + incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If + you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key + upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely.” +

+

“I will do it.”

+

+ “Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course + there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to + personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. + That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is + the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to + have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in + height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very + possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of + course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came + upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of + hers—possibly her fiancé—and no doubt, as you wore the girl’s + dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, + whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss + Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his + attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from + endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most + serious point in the case is the disposition of the child.” +

+

“What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated.

+

+ “My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as + to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don’t you see + that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first + real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. + This child’s disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty’s sake, + and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should + suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in + their power.” +

+

+ “I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A + thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit + it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor + creature.” +

+

+ “We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We + can do nothing until seven o’clock. At that hour we shall be with you, + and it will not be long before we solve the mystery.” +

+

+ We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the + Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The + group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in + the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had + Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step. +

+

“Have you managed it?” asked Holmes.

+

+ A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is Mrs. + Toller in the cellar,” said she. “Her husband lies snoring on the + kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. + Rucastle’s.” +

+

+ “You have done well indeed!” cried Holmes with enthusiasm. “Now lead the + way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business.” +

+

+ We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, + and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had + described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he + tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came + from within, and at the silence Holmes’ face clouded over. +

+

+ “I trust that we are not too late,” said he. “I think, Miss Hunter, that + we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, + and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in.” +

+

+ It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. + Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture + save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The + skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone. +

+

+ “There has been some villainy here,” said Holmes; “this beauty has + guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and has carried his victim off.” +

+

“But how?”

+

+ “Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it.” He swung + himself up onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “here’s the end of a long + light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it.” +

+

+ “But it is impossible,” said Miss Hunter; “the ladder was not there when + the Rucastles went away.” +

+

+ “He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and + dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose + step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as + well for you to have your pistol ready.” +

+

+ The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door + of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. + Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, + but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him. +

+

“You villain!” said he, “where’s your daughter?”

+

+ The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight. +

+

+ “It is for me to ask you that,” he shrieked, “you thieves! Spies and + thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I’ll serve + you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go. +

+

“He’s gone for the dog!” cried Miss Hunter.

+

“I have my revolver,” said I.

+

+ “Better close the front door,” cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the + stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying + of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound + which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and + shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. +

+

+ “My God!” he cried. “Someone has loosed the dog. It’s not been fed for + two days. Quick, quick, or it’ll be too late!” +

+

+ Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller + hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle + buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the + ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its + keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. With + much labour we separated them and carried him, living but horribly + mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and + having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did + what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when + the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room. +

+

“Mrs. Toller!” cried Miss Hunter.

+

+ “Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up + to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn’t let me know what you were + planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted.” +

+

+ “Ha!” said Holmes, looking keenly at her. “It is clear that Mrs. Toller + knows more about this matter than anyone else.” +

+

“Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.”

+

+ “Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points + on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.” +

+

+ “I will soon make it clear to you,” said she; “and I’d have done so + before now if I could ha’ got out from the cellar. If there’s + police-court business over this, you’ll remember that I was the one that + stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice’s friend too. +

+

+ “She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn’t, from the time that her + father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, + but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at + a friend’s house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her + own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, that she never + said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle’s hands. + He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband + coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then + her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a + paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money. When + she wouldn’t do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, + and for six weeks was at death’s door. Then she got better at last, all + worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t + make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man + could be.” +

+

+ “Ah,” said Holmes, “I think that what you have been good enough to tell + us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that + remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of + imprisonment?” +

+

“Yes, sir.”

+

+ “And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the + disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler.” +

+

“That was it, sir.”

+

+ “But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, + blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, + metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the + same as his.” +

+

+ “Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman,” said Mrs. + Toller serenely. +

+

+ “And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of + drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master + had gone out.” +

+

“You have it, sir, just as it happened.”

+

+ “I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes, “for you + have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes + the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had + best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our + locus standi now is rather a questionable one.” +

+

+ And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper + beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a + broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They + still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of + Rucastle’s past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. + Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in + Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a + government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet + Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no + further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one + of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, + where I believe that she has met with considerable success. +

+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c992cd --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/ch12.md @@ -0,0 +1,1151 @@ +--- +title: The Adventure of the Copper Beeches +class: part part-adventure +--- + +## The Adventure of the Copper Beeches + +“To the man who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock +Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the _Daily +Telegraph_, “it is frequently in its least important and lowliest +manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is +pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped +this truth that in these little records of our cases which you +have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, +occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much +to the many _causes célèbres_ and sensational trials in which I +have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been +trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those +faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made +my special province.” + +“And yet,” said I, smiling, “I cannot quite hold myself absolved +from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my +records.” + +“You have erred, perhaps,” he observed, taking up a glowing +cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood +pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a +disputatious rather than a meditative mood—“you have erred +perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your +statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing +upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is +really the only notable feature about the thing.” + +“It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter,” +I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism +which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my +friend’s singular character. + +“No, it is not selfishness or conceit,” said he, answering, as +was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. “If I claim full +justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing—a +thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it +is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should +dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of +lectures into a series of tales.” + +It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after +breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at +Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of +dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, +shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit +and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for +the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been +silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the +advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, +having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very +sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. + +“At the same time,” he remarked after a pause, during which he +had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, +“you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of +these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself +in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, +at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King +of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the +problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the +incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are +outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I +fear that you may have bordered on the trivial.” + +“The end may have been so,” I answered, “but the methods I hold +to have been novel and of interest.” + +“Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant +public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a +compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of +analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot +blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at +least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As +to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an +agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to +young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched +bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my +zero-point, I fancy. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter across +to me. + +It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and +ran thus: + +> DEAR MR. HOLMES:—I am very anxious to consult you as to whether +> I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered +> to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I +> do not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, +> “VIOLET HUNTER.” + +“Do you know the young lady?” I asked. + +“Not I.” + +“It is half-past ten now.” + +“Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.” + +“It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You +remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to +be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. +It may be so in this case, also.” + +“Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, +for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.” + +As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. +She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, +freckled like a plover’s egg, and with the brisk manner of a +woman who has had her own way to make in the world. + +“You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure,” said she, as my +companion rose to greet her, “but I have had a very strange +experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort +from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be +kind enough to tell me what I should do.” + +“Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything +that I can to serve you.” + +I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner +and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching +fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and +his finger-tips together, to listen to her story. + +“I have been a governess for five years,” said she, “in the +family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel +received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his +children over to America with him, so that I found myself without +a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but +without success. At last the little money which I had saved began +to run short, and I was at my wit’s end as to what I should do. + +“There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End +called Westaway’s, and there I used to call about once a week in +order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. +Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is +really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, +and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, +and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers +and sees whether she has anything which would suit them. + +“Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office +as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A +prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy +chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at +her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very +earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a +jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper. + +“ ‘That will do,’ said he; ‘I could not ask for anything better. +Capital! capital!’ He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his +hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a +comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at +him. + +“ ‘You are looking for a situation, miss?’ he asked. + +“ ‘Yes, sir.’ + +“ ‘As governess?’ + +“ ‘Yes, sir.’ + +“ ‘And what salary do you ask?’ + +“ ‘I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence +Munro.’ + +“ ‘Oh, tut, tut! sweating—rank sweating!’ he cried, throwing his +fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling +passion. ‘How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with +such attractions and accomplishments?’ + +“ ‘My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ said I. +‘A little French, a little German, music, and drawing—’ + +“ ‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘This is all quite beside the question. +The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment +of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are +not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a +considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have +why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to +accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, +madam, would commence at £100 a year.’ + +“You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, +such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, +however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, +opened a pocket-book and took out a note. + +“ ‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant +fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid +the white creases of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies +half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little +expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.’ + +“It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so +thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the +advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something +unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know +a little more before I quite committed myself. + +“ ‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I. + +“ ‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles +on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my +dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.’ + +“ ‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would +be.’ + +“ ‘One child—one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if +you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! +smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!’ He leaned back +in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again. + +“I was a little startled at the nature of the child’s amusement, +but the father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was +joking. + +“ ‘My sole duties, then,’ I asked, ‘are to take charge of a single +child?’ + +“ ‘No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,’ he +cried. ‘Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would +suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided +always that they were such commands as a lady might with +propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?’ + +“ ‘I should be happy to make myself useful.’ + +“ ‘Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you +know—faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress +which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. +Heh?’ + +“ ‘No,’ said I, considerably astonished at his words. + +“ ‘Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to +you?’ + +“ ‘Oh, no.’ + +“ ‘Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?’ + +“I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, +my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of +chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of +sacrificing it in this offhand fashion. + +“ ‘I am afraid that that is quite impossible,’ said I. He had been +watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a +shadow pass over his face as I spoke. + +“ ‘I am afraid that it is quite essential,’ said he. ‘It is a +little fancy of my wife’s, and ladies’ fancies, you know, madam, +ladies’ fancies must be consulted. And so you won’t cut your +hair?’ + +“ ‘No, sir, I really could not,’ I answered firmly. + +“ ‘Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a +pity, because in other respects you would really have done very +nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more +of your young ladies.’ + +“The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers +without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so +much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting +that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal. + +“ ‘Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?’ she asked. + +“ ‘If you please, Miss Stoper.’ + +“ ‘Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the +most excellent offers in this fashion,’ said she sharply. ‘You +can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such +opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong +upon the table, and I was shown out by the page. + +“Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found +little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the +table, I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very +foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and +expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were +at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few +governesses in England are getting £100 a year. Besides, +what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing +it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was +inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after +I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go +back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open +when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it +here and I will read it to you: + +“ ‘The Copper Beeches, near Winchester. + +>  ‘DEAR MISS HUNTER:—Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your +> address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have +> reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you +> should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of +> you. We are willing to give £30 a quarter, or £120 a +> year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which +> our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all. My +> wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would +> like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need +> not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one +> belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which +> would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting +> here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that +> need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no +> doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty +> during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain +> firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary +> may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child +> is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall +> meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. +> Yours faithfully, +> “ ‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’ + +“That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and +my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, +that before taking the final step I should like to submit the +whole matter to your consideration.” + +“Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the +question,” said Holmes, smiling. + +“But you would not advise me to refuse?” + +“I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to +see a sister of mine apply for.” + +“What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?” + +“Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself +formed some opinion?” + +“Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. +Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not +possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the +matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that +he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an +outbreak?” + +“That is a possible solution—in fact, as matters stand, it is +the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a +nice household for a young lady.” + +“But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!” + +“Well, yes, of course the pay is good—too good. That is what +makes me uneasy. Why should they give you £120 a year, when +they could have their pick for £40? There must be some +strong reason behind.” + +“I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would +understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so +much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me.” + +“Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that +your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has +come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel +about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt +or in danger—” + +“Danger! What danger do you foresee?” + +Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would cease to be a danger if +we could define it,” said he. “But at any time, day or night, a +telegram would bring me down to your help.” + +“That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair with the +anxiety all swept from her face. “I shall go down to Hampshire +quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, +sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester +to-morrow.” With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both +good-night and bustled off upon her way. + +“At least,” said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending +the stairs, “she seems to be a young lady who is very well able +to take care of herself.” + +“And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I am much +mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past.” + +It was not very long before my friend’s prediction was fulfilled. +A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts +turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of +human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual +salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to +something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether +the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond +my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat +frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an +abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his +hand when I mentioned it. “Data! data! data!” he cried +impatiently. “I can’t make bricks without clay.” And yet he would +always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever +have accepted such a situation. + +The telegram which we eventually received came late one night +just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down +to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently +indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a +test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came +down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, +and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me. + +“Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” said he, and turned back +to his chemical studies. + +The summons was a brief and urgent one. + +> Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday +> to-morrow,” it said. “Do come! I am at my wit’s end. +> “HUNTER.” + +“Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up. + +“I should wish to.” + +“Just look it up, then.” + +“There is a train at half-past nine,” said I, glancing over my +Bradshaw. “It is due at Winchester at 11:30.” + +“That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my +analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the +morning.” +

+By eleven o’clock the next day we were well upon our way to the +old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers +all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he +threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal +spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white +clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining +very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, +which set an edge to a man’s energy. All over the countryside, +away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and +grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light +green of the new foliage. + +“Are they not fresh and beautiful?” I cried with all the +enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. + +But Holmes shook his head gravely. + +“Do you know, Watson,” said he, “that it is one of the curses of +a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with +reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered +houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, +and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their +isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed +there.” + +“Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these +dear old homesteads?” + +“They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, +Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest +alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin +than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.” + +“You horrify me!” + +“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion +can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no +lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of +a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among +the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever +so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is +but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these +lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part +with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the +deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, +year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this +lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I +should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of +country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is +not personally threatened.” + +“No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away.” + +“Quite so. She has her freedom.” + +“What _can_ be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?” + +“I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would +cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is +correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we +shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of +the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has +to tell.” + +The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no +distance from the station, and there we found the young lady +waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch +awaited us upon the table. + +“I am so delighted that you have come,” she said earnestly. “It +is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I +should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me.” + +“Pray tell us what has happened to you.” + +“I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. +Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into +town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose.” + +“Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his long +thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. + +“In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, +with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is +only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and +I am not easy in my mind about them.” + +“What can you not understand?” + +“Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just +as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and +drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he +said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, +for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all +stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds +round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which +slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about +a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs +to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord +Southerton’s preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in +front of the hall door has given its name to the place. + +“I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, +and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. +There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to +us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is +not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much +younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, +while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their +conversation I have gathered that they have been married about +seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by +the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. +Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them +was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As +the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite +imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her +father’s young wife. + +“Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as +in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. +She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately +devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey +eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every +little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her +also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they +seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, +this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the +saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her +in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of +her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so +utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small +for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. +His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between +savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving +pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea +of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning +the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would +rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he +has little to do with my story.” + +“I am glad of all details,” remarked my friend, “whether they +seem to you to be relevant or not.” + +“I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one +unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was +the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a +man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, +uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual +smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been +quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. +His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as +silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most +unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the +nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one +corner of the building. + +“For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was +very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after +breakfast and whispered something to her husband. + +“ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, turning to me, ‘we are very much obliged to +you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut +your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest +iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue +dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in +your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should +both be extremely obliged.’ + +“The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade +of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it +bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not +have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. +and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which +seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for +me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching +along the entire front of the house, with three long windows +reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the +central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was +asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the +other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest +stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how +comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. +Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so +much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, +anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle +suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the +day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in +the nursery. + +“Two days later this same performance was gone through under +exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I +sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny +stories of which my employer had an immense _répertoire_, and which +he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and +moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not +fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for +about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then +suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and +to change my dress. + +“You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to +what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly +be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face +away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire +to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be +impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been +broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of +the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst +of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able +with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I +confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that +was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I +perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, +a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in +my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are +usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the +railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I +lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her +eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, +but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my +hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once. + +“ ‘Jephro,’ said she, ‘there is an impertinent fellow upon the +road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.’ + +“ ‘No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked. + +“ ‘No, I know no one in these parts.’ + +“ ‘Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to +him to go away.’ + +“ ‘Surely it would be better to take no notice.’ + +“ ‘No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn +round and wave him away like that.’ + +“I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew +down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have +not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor +seen the man in the road.” + +“Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be a +most interesting one.” + +“You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may +prove to be little relation between the different incidents of +which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper +Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands +near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp +rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving +about. + +“ ‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two +planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’ + +“I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a +vague figure huddled up in the darkness. + +“ ‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at the start +which I had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, +but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do +anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, +so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose +every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs +upon. For goodness’ sake don’t you ever on any pretext set your +foot over the threshold at night, for it’s as much as your life +is worth.’ + +“The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to +look out of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. +It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the +house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was +standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was +aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper +beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It +was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging +jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly +across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. +That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not +think that any burglar could have done. + +“And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as +you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a +great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the +child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the +furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. +There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones +empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two +with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was +naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It +struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, +so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very +first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There +was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never +guess what it was. It was my coil of hair. + +“I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, +and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing +obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in +the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the +contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two +tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was +it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at +all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, +and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that +I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had +locked. + +“I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, +and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. +There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited +at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of +the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. +One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle +coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on +his face which made him a very different person to the round, +jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his +brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his +temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me +without a word or a look. + +“This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the +grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I +could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four +of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the +fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I +strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle +came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever. + +“ ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘you must not think me rude if I passed you +without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with +business matters.’ + +“I assured him that I was not offended. ‘By the way,’ said I, +‘you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one +of them has the shutters up.’ + +“He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled +at my remark. + +“ ‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ said he. ‘I have made my +dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we +have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever +believed it?’ He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest +in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and +annoyance, but no jest. + +“Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there +was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, +I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, +though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty—a +feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this +place. They talk of woman’s instinct; perhaps it was woman’s +instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, +and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the +forbidden door. + +“It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, +besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to +do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large +black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been +drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when +I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at +all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both +downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an +admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, +opened the door, and slipped through. + +“There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and +uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. +Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third +of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and +cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so +thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through +them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it +had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked +at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with +stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was +not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the +shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from +beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was +a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the +passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it +might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room +and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little +slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, +unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My +overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran—ran +as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the +skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, +and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting +outside. + +“ ‘So,’ said he, smiling, ‘it was you, then. I thought that it +must be when I saw the door open.’ + +“ ‘Oh, I am so frightened!’ I panted. + +“ ‘My dear young lady! my dear young lady!’—you cannot think how +caressing and soothing his manner was—‘and what has frightened +you, my dear young lady?’ + +“But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I +was keenly on my guard against him. + +“ ‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. +‘But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was +frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in +there!’ + +“ ‘Only that?’ said he, looking at me keenly. + +“ ‘Why, what did you think?’ I asked. + +“ ‘Why do you think that I lock this door?’ + +“ ‘I am sure that I do not know.’ + +“ ‘It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you +see?’ He was still smiling in the most amiable manner. + +“ ‘I am sure if I had known—’ + +“ ‘Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over +that threshold again’—here in an instant the smile hardened into +a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a +demon—‘I’ll throw you to the mastiff.’ + +“I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that +I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing +until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I +thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without +some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the +woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible +to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of +course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was +almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would +send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the +office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then +returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my +mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I +remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of +insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one +in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, +or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and +lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. +I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this +morning, but I must be back before three o’clock, for Mr. and +Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the +evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you +all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you +could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should +do.” + +Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. +My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in +his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon +his face. + +“Is Toller still drunk?” he asked. + +“Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do +nothing with him.” + +“That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?” + +“Yes, the wine-cellar.” + +“You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very +brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could +perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not +think you a quite exceptional woman.” + +“I will try. What is it?” + +“We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend +and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, +we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might +give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some +errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate +matters immensely.” + +“I will do it.” + +“Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of +course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been +brought there to personate someone, and the real person is +imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this +prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice +Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to +America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, +figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very +possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of +course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you +came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some +friend of hers—possibly her _fiancé_—and no doubt, as you wore +the girl’s dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your +laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, +that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer +desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent +him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly +clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of +the child.” + +“What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated. + +“My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining +light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the +parents. Don’t you see that the converse is equally valid. I have +frequently gained my first real insight into the character of +parents by studying their children. This child’s disposition is +abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty’s sake, and whether he +derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or +from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their +power.” + +“I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A +thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you +have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to +this poor creature.” + +“We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning +man. We can do nothing until seven o’clock. At that hour we shall +be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the +mystery.” + +We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we +reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside +public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining +like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were +sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been +standing smiling on the door-step. + +“Have you managed it?” asked Holmes. + +A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is +Mrs. Toller in the cellar,” said she. “Her husband lies snoring +on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates +of Mr. Rucastle’s.” + +“You have done well indeed!” cried Holmes with enthusiasm. “Now +lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black +business.” + +We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a +passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss +Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the +transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but +without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence +Holmes’ face clouded over. + +“I trust that we are not too late,” said he. “I think, Miss +Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put +your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our +way in.” + +It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united +strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There +was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a +basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner +gone. + +“There has been some villainy here,” said Holmes; “this beauty +has guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and has carried his victim +off.” + +“But how?” + +“Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it.” He +swung himself up onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “here’s the +end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did +it.” + +“But it is impossible,” said Miss Hunter; “the ladder was not +there when the Rucastles went away.” + +“He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and +dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were +he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it +would be as well for you to have your pistol ready.” + +The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at +the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy +stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the +wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and +confronted him. + +“You villain!” said he, “where’s your daughter?” + +The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open +skylight. + +“It is for me to ask you that,” he shrieked, “you thieves! Spies +and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I’ll +serve you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he +could go. + +“He’s gone for the dog!” cried Miss Hunter. + +“I have my revolver,” said I. + +“Better close the front door,” cried Holmes, and we all rushed +down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we +heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a +horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An +elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out +at a side door. + +“My God!” he cried. “Someone has loosed the dog. It’s not been +fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it’ll be too late!” + +Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with +Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its +black muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and +screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and +it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great +creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and +carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid +him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered +Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to +relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door +opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room. + +“Mrs. Toller!” cried Miss Hunter. + +“Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he +went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn’t let me know +what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains +were wasted.” + +“Ha!” said Holmes, looking keenly at her. “It is clear that Mrs. +Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.” + +“Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.” + +“Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several +points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.” + +“I will soon make it clear to you,” said she; “and I’d have done +so before now if I could ha’ got out from the cellar. If there’s +police-court business over this, you’ll remember that I was the +one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice’s friend +too. + +“She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn’t, from the time +that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no +say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until +after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend’s house. As well as I could +learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so +quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them +but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle’s hands. He knew he was +safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming +forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then +her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to +sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use +her money. When she wouldn’t do it, he kept on worrying her until +she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death’s door. Then +she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her +beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t make no change in her +young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.” + +“Ah,” said Holmes, “I think that what you have been good enough +to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce +all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this +system of imprisonment?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of +the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler.” + +“That was it, sir.” + +“But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should +be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain +arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your +interests were the same as his.” + +“Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman,” said +Mrs. Toller serenely. + +“And in this way he managed that your good man should have no +want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment +when your master had gone out.” + +“You have it, sir, just as it happened.” + +“I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes, “for +you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And +here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, +Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, +as it seems to me that our _locus standi_ now is rather a +questionable one.” + +And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the +copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but +was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of +his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who +probably know so much of Rucastle’s past life that he finds it +difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were +married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their +flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in +the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend +Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further +interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one +of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at +Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success. diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8606a43 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.html @@ -0,0 +1,367 @@ + + + + + Content Info + + + + + + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cba077 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/contentinfo.md @@ -0,0 +1,362 @@ +--- +title: Content Info +--- + + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..840b8b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.html @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ + + + + + Copyright + + + + +
+
+ + 
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+ 
+Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez
+
+
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f59298 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/copyright.md @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +--- +title: Copyright +--- + +
+
+ + +
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+ +
+Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez
+
+ +
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.html b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14cddc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.html @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ + + + + + Cover + + + + +
+

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

+
by
+
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
+
+ + diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.md b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..33067c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/example/sherlock/cover.md @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +--- +title: Cover +--- + +
+

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

+
by
+
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
+
diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css index d2b61c2..14cfa29 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css @@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -84,7 +84,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -102,7 +102,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -164,33 +164,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } @@ -209,43 +200,62 @@ body > footer { } @font-face { - font-family: "FPL Neu"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9r8a.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'FPL Neu'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9r8a.ttf?raw=true'); } @font-face { - font-family: "FPL Neu"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9b8a.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'FPL Neu'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9b8a.ttf?raw=true'); font-weight: bold; } @font-face { - font-family: "FPL Neu"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9ri8a.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'FPL Neu'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9ri8a.ttf?raw=true'); font-style: italic; } @font-face { - font-family: "FPL Neu"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9bi8a.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'FPL Neu'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/fp9bi8a.ttf?raw=true'); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; } html { - font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "FPL Neu", Palatino, Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'FPL Neu', Palatino, Georgia, serif; } @page { - font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "FPL Neu", Palatino, Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', 'FPL Neu', Palatino, Georgia, serif; @top-center { - content: "White Fang"; + content: 'White Fang'; } } +@page :first { + counter-reset: part; +} +@page part:nth(1) { + counter-increment: part; +} +.part section.level2 { + page: part; +} +.part section.level2 h2 { + counter-reset: chapter; +} +.part section.level2 h2::before { + content: 'Part ' counter(part, upper-roman); + display: block; +} +.part section.level2 h3 { + counter-increment: chapter; +} +.part section.level2 h3::before { + content: 'Chapter ' counter(chapter, upper-roman) '—'; +} + h1, h2, h3 { font-variant: small-caps; } -h3 .chap-num::after { - content: "—"; -} - /*# sourceMappingURL=fang.css.map */ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css.map index cc35762..0b6d550 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/fang.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ -{"version":3,"sourceRoot":"","sources":["scss/theme_common.scss","scss/_font.scss","scss/_page.scss","scss/_variables.scss","scss/_toc.scss","scss/_base.scss","scss/_legal_sections.scss","scss/fang.scss"],"names":[],"mappings":";AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;ACAQ;ACAR;EACE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE,WCjBe;EDkBf,aCjBiB;EDkBjB;EAEA;IACE;IACA;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AE3DJ;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA,aDFe;;ACKjB;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMR;EAEI;IACE;;EAIA;IACE;IACA;IACA;IACA;IACA;;;ACrDR;AAEA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;EAIE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFvCiB;EEwCjB;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAKN;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAIF;AAAA;EAEE,aFzEgB;EE0EhB;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EAEA,aF9EiB;EE+EjB;;;ACpFF;AAGA;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AChBF;EACE;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;IACE;;;AAIJ;AAAA;AAAA;EAGE;;;AAGF;EACE","file":"fang.css"} \ No newline at end of file +{"version":3,"sourceRoot":"","sources":["scss/theme_common.scss","scss/_font.scss","scss/_page.scss","scss/_variables.scss","scss/_toc.scss","scss/_base.scss","scss/_legal_sections.scss","scss/fang.scss"],"names":[],"mappings":";AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;ACAQ;ACAR;EACE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE,WCjBe;EDkBf,aCjBiB;EDkBjB;EAEA;IACE;IACA;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AE3DJ;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA,aDFe;;ACKjB;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMR;EAEI;IACE;;EAIA;IACE;IACA;IACA;IACA;IACA;;;ACrDR;AAEA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;EAIE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFvCiB;EEwCjB;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMN;AAAA;EAEE,aF5DgB;EE6DhB;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFhEiB;EEiEjB;;AAEA;AAAA;EACE,aFtEc;;;AGHlB;AAEA;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;ACfF;EACE;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;IACE;;;AAKJ;EACE;;AAGF;EACE;;AAGF;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;;AACA;EACE;EACA;;AAIJ;EACE;;AACA;EACE;;;AAKN;AAAA;AAAA;EAGE","file":"fang.css"} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/package.json b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/package.json index 94c48e6..aa97838 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/package.json +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/package.json @@ -12,7 +12,7 @@ "watch:scss": "sass --watch scss:." }, "devDependencies": { - "@vivliostyle/cli": "^3.3.0", + "@vivliostyle/cli": "^3.5.2", "sass": "^1.32.8", "npm-run-all": "^4.1.5", "vivliostyle-theme-scripts": "^0.3.1" diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_base.scss b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_base.scss index d047c2f..41e6722 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_base.scss +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_base.scss @@ -58,19 +58,6 @@ p { } } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: '\a\002722'; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - // TODO: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vfm/issues/77 pre, .pre { @@ -78,9 +65,12 @@ pre, font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; - // white-space: pre-wrap; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: $body-line-height; hyphens: none; + + .language-text { + font-family: $pre-font-family; + } } diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_legal_sections.scss b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_legal_sections.scss index 9930724..50f19a4 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_legal_sections.scss +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/_legal_sections.scss @@ -1,7 +1,6 @@ /** Legal Sections **/ -// TODO: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vfm/issues/77 -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/alice.scss b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/alice.scss index bb23fe3..1746bb5 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/alice.scss +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/alice.scss @@ -29,7 +29,26 @@ } } -.chap-num, +// https://vivliostyle.github.io/vivliostyle_doc/ja/events/vivliostyle-css-paged-media-20210410/slide.html#use-css-paged-media +@page :first { + counter-reset: chapter; +} + +@page story:nth(1) { + counter-increment: chapter; +} + +.story section { + page: story; + + h2 { + &::before { + content: 'Chapter ' counter(chapter, upper-roman) '.'; + display: block; + } + } +} + h1, h2 { font-feature-settings: 'smcp'; diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/fang.scss b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/fang.scss index 431d420..159ab4a 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/fang.scss +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/fang.scss @@ -35,12 +35,36 @@ html { } } +// https://vivliostyle.github.io/vivliostyle_doc/ja/events/vivliostyle-css-paged-media-20210410/slide.html#use-css-paged-media +@page :first { + counter-reset: part; +} + +@page part:nth(1) { + counter-increment: part; +} + +.part section.level2 { + page: part; + + h2 { + counter-reset: chapter; + &::before { + content: 'Part ' counter(part, upper-roman); + display: block; + } + } + + h3 { + counter-increment: chapter; + &::before { + content: 'Chapter ' counter(chapter, upper-roman) '—'; + } + } +} + h1, h2, h3 { font-variant: small-caps; } - -h3 .chap-num::after { - content: '—'; -} diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/sherlock.scss b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/sherlock.scss index 7696c7a..1f2d578 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/sherlock.scss +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/scss/sherlock.scss @@ -37,6 +37,42 @@ } } +// https://vivliostyle.github.io/vivliostyle_doc/ja/events/vivliostyle-css-paged-media-20210410/slide.html#use-css-paged-media +@page :first { + counter-reset: part; +} + +@page part:nth(1) { + counter-increment: part; +} + +.part section.level2 { + page: part; + + h2 { + counter-reset: chapter; + &::before { + content: 'Adventure ' counter(part, upper-roman) '. '; + margin-right: 1ch; + } + } + + h3 { + counter-increment: chapter; + &::before { + content: counter(chapter, upper-roman) '.'; + } + } +} + +.part.part-adventure section.level2 { + h2 { + &::before { + content: counter(part, upper-roman) '. '; + } + } +} + header { font-family: 'Quattrocento', baskerville, 'Libre Baskerville', Georgia, serif; font-size-adjust: none; @@ -115,11 +151,6 @@ h3 { font-size: 1em; } -.chap-num { - display: inline-block; - margin-right: 1ch; -} - p:first-of-type::first-letter { font-weight: normal; } @@ -141,7 +172,7 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap; break-inside: avoid; - line-height: inherit; + line-height: normal; } blockquote { diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css index b4ffd04..298022e 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css @@ -3,7 +3,7 @@ Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -84,7 +84,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -102,7 +102,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -164,33 +164,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } @@ -209,38 +200,65 @@ body > footer { } @font-face { - font-family: "Quattrocento"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Quattrocento-Regular.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Quattrocento'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/Quattrocento-Regular.ttf?raw=true'); } @font-face { - font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Regular.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Libre Baskerville'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Regular.ttf?raw=true'); } @font-face { - font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Bold.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Libre Baskerville'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Bold.ttf?raw=true'); font-weight: bold; } @font-face { - font-family: "Libre Baskerville"; - src: url("https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Italic.ttf?raw=true"); + font-family: 'Libre Baskerville'; + src: url('https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/fonts/LibreBaskerville-Italic.ttf?raw=true'); font-style: italic; } :root { - font-family: baskerville, "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, serif; + font-family: baskerville, 'Libre Baskerville', Georgia, serif; font-size-adjust: 0.42; } @page { font-size: small; - font-family: "Quattrocento", baskerville, "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Quattrocento', baskerville, 'Libre Baskerville', Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.1em; @top-center { - content: "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes"; + content: 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'; } } +@page :first { + counter-reset: part; +} +@page part:nth(1) { + counter-increment: part; +} +.part section.level2 { + page: part; +} +.part section.level2 h2 { + counter-reset: chapter; +} +.part section.level2 h2::before { + content: 'Adventure ' counter(part, upper-roman) '. '; + margin-right: 1ch; +} +.part section.level2 h3 { + counter-increment: chapter; +} +.part section.level2 h3::before { + content: counter(chapter, upper-roman) '.'; +} + +.part.part-adventure section.level2 h2::before { + content: counter(part, upper-roman) '. '; +} + header { - font-family: "Quattrocento", baskerville, "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Quattrocento', baskerville, 'Libre Baskerville', Georgia, serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 1.2em; letter-spacing: 0.3em; @@ -292,7 +310,7 @@ header .author { } h2, h3 { - font-family: "Quattrocento", baskerville, "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, serif; + font-family: 'Quattrocento', baskerville, 'Libre Baskerville', Georgia, serif; letter-spacing: 0.05em; font-size-adjust: none; text-transform: uppercase; @@ -309,11 +327,6 @@ h3 { font-size: 1em; } -.chap-num { - display: inline-block; - margin-right: 1ch; -} - p:first-of-type::first-letter { font-weight: normal; } @@ -335,7 +348,7 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap; break-inside: avoid; - line-height: inherit; + line-height: normal; } blockquote { @@ -347,7 +360,7 @@ blockquote p:first-of-type::first-letter { font-weight: normal; } blockquote p:first-of-type:before { - content: "“"; + content: '“'; font-weight: bold; float: left; font-size: 3em; diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css.map index 77a759e..ecda7bb 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/sherlock.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ 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\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css index 990bbfb..87a4fdb 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css @@ -1,9 +1,8 @@ -@charset "UTF-8"; /* Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -84,7 +83,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -102,7 +101,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -164,33 +163,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css.map index 18ebe9d..64544b6 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_common.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ 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\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css index 1aed241..9280fb1 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css @@ -8,7 +8,7 @@ Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -89,7 +89,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -107,7 +107,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -169,33 +169,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } @@ -219,7 +210,7 @@ body > footer { bleed: 3mm; /* if you open the publication on Vivliostyle Viewer, this message will be shown */ @top-left { - content: "theme_print"; + content: 'theme_print'; } } /* and more... 🖋 */ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css.map index 25e14e2..c307b93 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_print.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ 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+{"version":3,"sourceRoot":"","sources":["scss/theme_print.scss","scss/theme_common.scss","scss/_font.scss","scss/_page.scss","scss/_variables.scss","scss/_toc.scss","scss/_base.scss","scss/_legal_sections.scss"],"names":[],"mappings":";AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAKA;ACLA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;ACAQ;ACAR;EACE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE,WCjBe;EDkBf,aCjBiB;EDkBjB;EAEA;IACE;IACA;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AE3DJ;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA,aDFe;;ACKjB;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMR;EAEI;IACE;;EAIA;IACE;IACA;IACA;IACA;IACA;;;ACrDR;AAEA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;EAIE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFvCiB;EEwCjB;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMN;AAAA;EAEE,aF5DgB;EE6DhB;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFhEiB;EEiEjB;;AAEA;AAAA;EACE,aFtEc;;;AGHlB;AAEA;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;APTF;AACE;EACA;EACA;AAEA;EACA;IACE;;;AAIJ","file":"theme_print.css"} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css index e9443f7..149f97f 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css @@ -8,7 +8,7 @@ Original version: https://github.com/vivliostyle/vivliostyle_doc/blob/gh-pages/samples/gutenberg/gutenberg.css */ -@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500"); +@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Code+Pro:500'); html { max-width: 90ch; margin: auto; @@ -89,7 +89,7 @@ nav li a::before { margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px lightgray; - content: ""; + content: ''; order: 1; flex: auto; } @@ -107,7 +107,7 @@ nav li a::after { } nav li::before { counter-increment: chap; - content: counter(chap, upper-roman) "."; + content: counter(chap, upper-roman) '.'; float: left; width: 3em; margin-left: -3em; @@ -169,33 +169,24 @@ p:first-of-type::first-letter { padding-right: 1px; } -main > section:last-child::after { - break-before: avoid; - break-inside: avoid; - margin: 2em 0; - text-align: center; - font-size: 2em; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps; - content: "\a✢"; - white-space: pre; - display: block; -} - pre, .pre { - font-family: "Source Code Pro", monaco, monospace; + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; font-size-adjust: none; font-weight: 500; font-size: 0.75em; - margin-left: 2em; - white-space: pre-line; + margin: 1em auto 1em 2em; + white-space: pre-wrap; line-height: 1.45; hyphens: none; } +pre .language-text, +.pre .language-text { + font-family: 'Source Code Pro', monaco, monospace; +} /** Legal Sections **/ -.pre.legal { +.legal pre { font-size: xx-small; margin: 0 -1em; } @@ -216,7 +207,7 @@ body > footer { @page { /* if you open the publication on Vivliostyle Viewer, this message will be shown */ @top-left { - content: "theme_screen"; + content: 'theme_screen'; } } /* for wide screen */ diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css.map b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css.map index 54c6ed2..cbda1e1 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css.map +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/theme_screen.css.map @@ -1 +1 @@ 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\ No newline at end of file +{"version":3,"sourceRoot":"","sources":["scss/theme_screen.scss","scss/theme_common.scss","scss/_font.scss","scss/_page.scss","scss/_variables.scss","scss/_toc.scss","scss/_base.scss","scss/_legal_sections.scss"],"names":[],"mappings":";AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;AAKA;ACLA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;ACAQ;ACAR;EACE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE,WCjBe;EDkBf,aCjBiB;EDkBjB;EAEA;IACE;IACA;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AAIJ;EACE;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;EAEF;IACE;;;AE3DJ;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA,aDFe;;ACKjB;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMR;EAEI;IACE;;EAIA;IACE;IACA;IACA;IACA;IACA;;;ACrDR;AAEA;AAAA;AAAA;AAAA;EAIE;EACA;EACA;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;AAAA;EAEE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFvCiB;EEwCjB;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;;AAEA;EACE;EACA;EACA;EACA;;;AAMN;AAAA;EAEE,aF5DgB;EE6DhB;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA;EACA,aFhEiB;EEiEjB;;AAEA;AAAA;EACE,aFtEc;;;AGHlB;AAEA;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;EACE;;;AAGF;EACE;;;APTF;AACE;EACA;IACE;;;AAIJ;AACA;EACE;EACA;;;AAGF;AACA;EACE;EACA;EACA;;AAEA;EACE;;;AAIJ","file":"theme_screen.css"} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/vivliostyle.config.js b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/vivliostyle.config.js index 884e05e..d2d92ee 100644 --- a/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/vivliostyle.config.js +++ b/packages/@vivliostyle/theme-gutenberg/vivliostyle.config.js @@ -1,35 +1,3 @@ -module.exports = { - language: 'en', - size: 'A5', - entry: [ - { - rel: 'contents', - }, - { - title: 'Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland', - path: 'example/Alice.md', - theme: 'alice.css', - }, - { - title: 'White Fang', - path: 'example/Fang.md', - theme: 'fang.css', - }, - { - title: 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes', - path: 'example/Sherlock.md', - theme: 'sherlock.css', - }, - ], - output: [ - "book.pdf", - { - path: './book', - format: 'webpub', - }, - ], - toc: true, - vfm: { - disableFormatHtml: true, - }, -} +const config = require('./config/alice/vivliostyle.config.js'); + +module.exports = config; diff --git a/yarn.lock b/yarn.lock index 48307db..e9aa8a7 100644 --- a/yarn.lock +++ b/yarn.lock @@ -1366,6 +1366,20 @@ dependencies: "@types/node" ">= 8" +"@pdf-lib/standard-fonts@^1.0.0": + version "1.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@pdf-lib/standard-fonts/-/standard-fonts-1.0.0.tgz#8ba691c4421f71662ed07c9a0294b44528af2d7f" + integrity sha512-hU30BK9IUN/su0Mn9VdlVKsWBS6GyhVfqjwl1FjZN4TxP6cCw0jP2w7V3Hf5uX7M0AZJ16vey9yE0ny7Sa59ZA== + dependencies: + pako "^1.0.6" + +"@pdf-lib/upng@^1.0.1": + version "1.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@pdf-lib/upng/-/upng-1.0.1.tgz#7dc9c636271aca007a9df4deaf2dd7e7960280cb" + integrity sha512-dQK2FUMQtowVP00mtIksrlZhdFXQZPC+taih1q4CvPZ5vqdxR/LKBaFg0oAfzd1GlHZXXSPdQfzQnt+ViGvEIQ== + dependencies: + pako "^1.0.10" + "@sinonjs/commons@^1.7.0": version "1.8.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@sinonjs/commons/-/commons-1.8.0.tgz#c8d68821a854c555bba172f3b06959a0039b236d" @@ -1431,6 +1445,11 @@ dependencies: "@babel/types" "^7.3.0" +"@types/cli-table@^0.3.0": + version "0.3.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/cli-table/-/cli-table-0.3.0.tgz#f1857156bf5fd115c6a2db260ba0be1f8fc5671c" + integrity sha512-QnZUISJJXyhyD6L1e5QwXDV/A5i2W1/gl6D6YMc8u0ncPepbv/B4w3S+izVvtAg60m6h+JP09+Y/0zF2mojlFQ== + "@types/color-name@^1.1.1": version "1.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/color-name/-/color-name-1.1.1.tgz#1c1261bbeaa10a8055bbc5d8ab84b7b2afc846a0" @@ -1443,6 +1462,14 @@ dependencies: get-port "*" +"@types/glob@*": + version "7.1.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/glob/-/glob-7.1.4.tgz#ea59e21d2ee5c517914cb4bc8e4153b99e566672" + integrity sha512-w+LsMxKyYQm347Otw+IfBXOv9UWVjpHpCDdbBMt8Kz/xbvCYNjP+0qPh91Km3iKfSRLBB0P7fAMf0KHrPu+MyA== + dependencies: + "@types/minimatch" "*" + "@types/node" "*" + "@types/glob@^7.1.1": version "7.1.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/glob/-/glob-7.1.2.tgz#06ca26521353a545d94a0adc74f38a59d232c987" @@ -1518,6 +1545,11 @@ resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/minimist/-/minimist-1.2.0.tgz#69a23a3ad29caf0097f06eda59b361ee2f0639f6" integrity sha1-aaI6OtKcrwCX8G7aWbNh7i8GOfY= +"@types/mustache@^4.0.1": + version "4.1.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/mustache/-/mustache-4.1.2.tgz#d0e158013c81674a5b6d8780bc3fe234e1804eaf" + integrity sha512-c4OVMMcyodKQ9dpwBwh3ofK9P6U9ZktKU9S+p33UqwMNN1vlv2P0zJZUScTshnx7OEoIIRcCFNQ904sYxZz8kg== + "@types/node-fetch@^2.5.7": version "2.5.7" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/node-fetch/-/node-fetch-2.5.7.tgz#20a2afffa882ab04d44ca786449a276f9f6bbf3c" @@ -1541,6 +1573,11 @@ resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/parse-json/-/parse-json-4.0.0.tgz#2f8bb441434d163b35fb8ffdccd7138927ffb8c0" integrity sha512-//oorEZjL6sbPcKUaCdIGlIUeH26mgzimjBB77G6XRgnDl/L5wOnpyBGRe/Mmf5CVW3PwEBE1NjiMZ/ssFh4wA== +"@types/parse5@^5.0.0": + version "5.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/parse5/-/parse5-5.0.3.tgz#e7b5aebbac150f8b5fdd4a46e7f0bd8e65e19109" + integrity sha512-kUNnecmtkunAoQ3CnjmMkzNU/gtxG8guhi+Fk2U/kOpIKjIMKnXGp4IJCgQJrXSgMsWYimYG4TGjz/UzbGEBTw== + "@types/prettier@^2.0.0": version "2.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/prettier/-/prettier-2.0.1.tgz#b6e98083f13faa1e5231bfa3bdb1b0feff536b6d" @@ -1553,6 +1590,14 @@ dependencies: "@types/node" "*" +"@types/shelljs@^0.8.6": + version "0.8.9" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/shelljs/-/shelljs-0.8.9.tgz#45dd8501aa9882976ca3610517dac3831c2fbbf4" + integrity sha512-flVe1dvlrCyQJN/SGrnBxqHG+RzXrVKsmjD8WS/qYHpq5UPjfq7UWFBENP0ZuOl0g6OpAlL6iBoLSvKYUUmyQw== + dependencies: + "@types/glob" "*" + "@types/node" "*" + "@types/stack-utils@^1.0.1": version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/stack-utils/-/stack-utils-1.0.1.tgz#0a851d3bd96498fa25c33ab7278ed3bd65f06c3e" @@ -1570,6 +1615,11 @@ resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/unist/-/unist-2.0.3.tgz#9c088679876f374eb5983f150d4787aa6fb32d7e" integrity sha512-FvUupuM3rlRsRtCN+fDudtmytGO6iHJuuRKS1Ss0pG5z8oX0diNEw94UEL7hgDbpN94rgaK5R7sWm6RrSkZuAQ== +"@types/uuid@^8.3.0": + version "8.3.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/uuid/-/uuid-8.3.1.tgz#1a32969cf8f0364b3d8c8af9cc3555b7805df14f" + integrity sha512-Y2mHTRAbqfFkpjldbkHGY8JIzRN6XqYRliG8/24FcHm2D2PwW24fl5xMRTVGdrb7iMrwCaIEbLWerGIkXuFWVg== + "@types/yargs-interactive@^2.1.1": version "2.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/yargs-interactive/-/yargs-interactive-2.1.1.tgz#d6a1d7de3127769997a10393f525c1eed7976553" @@ -1596,6 +1646,20 @@ dependencies: "@types/yargs-parser" "*" +"@types/yargs@^15.0.4": + version "15.0.14" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/yargs/-/yargs-15.0.14.tgz#26d821ddb89e70492160b66d10a0eb6df8f6fb06" + integrity sha512-yEJzHoxf6SyQGhBhIYGXQDSCkJjB6HohDShto7m8vaKg9Yp0Yn8+71J9eakh2bnPg6BfsH9PRMhiRTZnd4eXGQ== + dependencies: + "@types/yargs-parser" "*" + +"@types/yauzl@^2.9.1": + version "2.9.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@types/yauzl/-/yauzl-2.9.2.tgz#c48e5d56aff1444409e39fa164b0b4d4552a7b7a" + integrity sha512-8uALY5LTvSuHgloDVUvWP3pIauILm+8/0pDMokuDYIoNsOkSwd5AiHBTSEJjKTDcZr5z8UpgOWZkxBF4iJftoA== + dependencies: + "@types/node" "*" + "@uetchy/doctoc@^1.5.0": version "1.5.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@uetchy/doctoc/-/doctoc-1.5.0.tgz#57ce52f1f7b9567dd8d7a6e9003baa91454f68b3" @@ -1608,6 +1672,41 @@ underscore "~1.8.3" update-section "^0.3.0" +"@vivliostyle/cli@^3.3.0", "@vivliostyle/cli@^3.5.2": + version "3.5.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/cli/-/cli-3.5.2.tgz#010f35c3408172d470fb8c043724f52b8d1269a7" + integrity sha512-Zebn8tvsehCXxtqOQA6RcDkM1b9E+IM57hdKFxFJklEZ8Zo0uJFIktAWfm63Cti7A4Sr4UVwUVpOI6PFa4WQyQ== + dependencies: + "@vivliostyle/vfm" v1.0.0-alpha.27 + "@vivliostyle/viewer" "2.8.1" + ajv "^7.0.4" + ajv-formats "^1.5.1" + chalk "^4.1.1" + cheerio "^1.0.0-rc.6" + chokidar "^3.5.1" + commander "^7.2.0" + debug "^4.3.1" + fast-xml-parser "^3.19.0" + globby "^11.0.3" + hast-util-to-html "^7.1.3" + hastscript "^6.0.0" + image-size "^0.9.4" + mime-types "^2.1.30" + node-stream-zip "^1.13.3" + ora "^5.4.0" + pdf-lib "^1.16.0" + press-ready "^4.0.3" + prettier "^2.2.1" + puppeteer "9.0.0" + resolve-pkg "^2.0.0" + shelljs "^0.8.4" + terminal-link "^2.1.1" + tmp "^0.2.1" + to-vfile "^6.1.0" + upath "^2.0.1" + uuid "^8.3.2" + vfile "^4.2.1" + "@vivliostyle/core@^2.1.1": version "2.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/core/-/core-2.1.1.tgz#d0be87d6d62e8d48ccfb6773d67d3b6b898af5a0" @@ -1615,6 +1714,13 @@ dependencies: fast-diff "^1.2.0" +"@vivliostyle/core@^2.8.1": + version "2.8.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/core/-/core-2.8.1.tgz#37df96c54d3c4d858979e643556d2ea87db9ace4" + integrity sha512-2G8mAkf+26D6CAF9bcUZwO4e5ORg3XxKEfgL8C0fGkmeKbij1i0Y90t2q5x6b5Nb8g8tPYcM+jImBiSmoU9Ohg== + dependencies: + fast-diff "^1.2.0" + "@vivliostyle/vfm@^1.0.0-alpha.10": version "1.0.0-alpha.10" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/vfm/-/vfm-1.0.0-alpha.10.tgz#4115c37eb8da84429f1c9355ef67005b18bcebb2" @@ -1653,6 +1759,54 @@ unist-util-visit "^2.0.2" unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.2" +"@vivliostyle/vfm@v1.0.0-alpha.27": + version "1.0.0-alpha.27" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/vfm/-/vfm-1.0.0-alpha.27.tgz#15b56294437d011abaf07f57c4d9d4e0050bd04a" + integrity sha512-FlDj3Nk3VmdoC/F+rKe6VOYqsersbvM5E/Aj2MYFsFCeQV84sciXU6fPX3M8w8N9MmPKJQ4Zk53mI5u5iDhi0A== + dependencies: + debug "^4.3.1" + doctype "^2.0.4" + github-slugger "^1.3.0" + hast-util-find-and-replace "^3.2.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.1.0" + hast-util-select "^4.0.2" + hastscript "^6.0.0" + js-yaml "^4.0.0" + mdast-util-find-and-replace "^1.1.1" + mdast-util-to-hast "^10.1.1" + mdast-util-to-string "^2.0.0" + meow "^9.0.0" + refractor "^3.3.0" + rehype-format "^3.1.0" + rehype-raw "^5.0.0" + rehype-stringify "^8.0.0" + remark-attr "^0.11.1" + remark-breaks "^1.0.5" + remark-footnotes "^2.0.0" + remark-frontmatter "^2.0.0" + remark-parse "^8.0.2" + remark-rehype "^8.0.0" + remark-shortcodes "^0.3.1" + to-vfile "^6.1.0" + unified "^9.2.0" + unist-builder "^2.0.3" + unist-util-filter "^2.0.3" + unist-util-find-after "^3.0.0" + unist-util-inspect "^6.0.1" + unist-util-remove "^2.0.1" + unist-util-select "^3.0.4" + unist-util-visit "^2.0.3" + unist-util-visit-parents "^3.1.1" + +"@vivliostyle/viewer@2.8.1": + version "2.8.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/viewer/-/viewer-2.8.1.tgz#ca740df1bd867fd9ba9e0fea5e051ae77c63d866" + integrity sha512-l2OxXgInsr9RX4AJp1oPCkvCbKd3mB0wH2hA8B+ML0Rt60owQVGiYJzpYVCcgUcpiUTZs62VStEzG0Um9qSaOw== + dependencies: + "@vivliostyle/core" "^2.8.1" + font-awesome "^4.7.0" + knockout "^3.5.0" + "@vivliostyle/viewer@^2.1.1": version "2.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/@vivliostyle/viewer/-/viewer-2.1.1.tgz#6bfc61ae5f1ced31543ec5df77fe5ebbd061f3fc" @@ -1727,6 +1881,13 @@ agent-base@4, agent-base@^4.3.0: dependencies: es6-promisify "^5.0.0" +agent-base@6: + version "6.0.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/agent-base/-/agent-base-6.0.2.tgz#49fff58577cfee3f37176feab4c22e00f86d7f77" + integrity sha512-RZNwNclF7+MS/8bDg70amg32dyeZGZxiDuQmZxKLAlQjr3jGyLx+4Kkk58UO7D2QdgFIQCovuSuZESne6RG6XQ== + dependencies: + debug "4" + agent-base@~4.2.1: version "4.2.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/agent-base/-/agent-base-4.2.1.tgz#d89e5999f797875674c07d87f260fc41e83e8ca9" @@ -1749,6 +1910,13 @@ aggregate-error@^3.0.0: clean-stack "^2.0.0" indent-string "^4.0.0" +ajv-formats@^1.5.1: + version "1.6.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ajv-formats/-/ajv-formats-1.6.1.tgz#35c7cdcd2a12d509171c37bac32f2e8eb010a536" + integrity sha512-4CjkH20If1lhR5CGtqkrVg3bbOtFEG80X9v6jDOIUhbzzbB+UzPBGy8GQhUNVZ0yvMHdMpawCOcy5ydGMsagGQ== + dependencies: + ajv "^7.0.0" + ajv@^6.5.5: version "6.12.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ajv/-/ajv-6.12.2.tgz#c629c5eced17baf314437918d2da88c99d5958cd" @@ -1759,6 +1927,16 @@ ajv@^6.5.5: json-schema-traverse "^0.4.1" uri-js "^4.2.2" +ajv@^7.0.0, ajv@^7.0.4: + version "7.2.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ajv/-/ajv-7.2.4.tgz#8e239d4d56cf884bccca8cca362f508446dc160f" + integrity sha512-nBeQgg/ZZA3u3SYxyaDvpvDtgZ/EZPF547ARgZBrG9Bhu1vKDwAIjtIf+sDtJUKa2zOcEbmRLBRSyMraS/Oy1A== + dependencies: + fast-deep-equal "^3.1.1" + json-schema-traverse "^1.0.0" + require-from-string "^2.0.2" + uri-js "^4.2.2" + alce@1.2.0: version "1.2.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/alce/-/alce-1.2.0.tgz#a8be2dacaac42494612f18dc09db691f3dea4aab" @@ -1847,6 +2025,14 @@ anymatch@^3.0.3, anymatch@~3.1.1: normalize-path "^3.0.0" picomatch "^2.0.4" +anymatch@~3.1.2: + version "3.1.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/anymatch/-/anymatch-3.1.2.tgz#c0557c096af32f106198f4f4e2a383537e378716" + integrity sha512-P43ePfOAIupkguHUycrc4qJ9kz8ZiuOUijaETwX7THt0Y/GNK7v0aa8rY816xWjZ7rJdA5XdMcpVFTKMq+RvWg== + dependencies: + normalize-path "^3.0.0" + picomatch "^2.0.4" + aproba@^1.0.3, aproba@^1.1.1: version "1.2.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/aproba/-/aproba-1.2.0.tgz#6802e6264efd18c790a1b0d517f0f2627bf2c94a" @@ -1877,6 +2063,11 @@ argparse@^1.0.7: dependencies: sprintf-js "~1.0.2" +argparse@^2.0.1: + version "2.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/argparse/-/argparse-2.0.1.tgz#246f50f3ca78a3240f6c997e8a9bd1eac49e4b38" + integrity sha512-8+9WqebbFzpX9OR+Wa6O29asIogeRMzcGtAINdpMHHyAg10f05aSFVBbcEqGf/PXw1EjAZ+q2/bEBg3DvurK3Q== + argx@^3.0.0: version "3.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/argx/-/argx-3.0.2.tgz#1baa88d160ab6f546b6ece0e07596cc2bb3424a9" @@ -2112,6 +2303,11 @@ balanced-match@^1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/balanced-match/-/balanced-match-1.0.0.tgz#89b4d199ab2bee49de164ea02b89ce462d71b767" integrity sha1-ibTRmasr7kneFk6gK4nORi1xt2c= +base64-js@^1.3.1: + version "1.5.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/base64-js/-/base64-js-1.5.1.tgz#1b1b440160a5bf7ad40b650f095963481903930a" + integrity sha512-AKpaYlHn8t4SVbOHCy+b5+KKgvR4vrsD8vbvrbiQJps7fKDTkjkDry6ji0rUJjC0kzbNePLwzxq8iypo41qeWA== + base@^0.11.1: version "0.11.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/base/-/base-0.11.2.tgz#7bde5ced145b6d551a90db87f83c558b4eb48a8f" @@ -2125,6 +2321,11 @@ base@^0.11.1: mixin-deep "^1.2.0" pascalcase "^0.1.1" +bcp-47-match@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/bcp-47-match/-/bcp-47-match-1.0.3.tgz#cb8d03071389a10aff2062b862d6575ffd7cd7ef" + integrity sha512-LggQ4YTdjWQSKELZF5JwchnBa1u0pIQSZf5lSdOHEdbVP55h0qICA/FUp3+W99q0xqxYa1ZQizTUH87gecII5w== + bcrypt-pbkdf@^1.0.0: version "1.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/bcrypt-pbkdf/-/bcrypt-pbkdf-1.0.2.tgz#a4301d389b6a43f9b67ff3ca11a3f6637e360e9e" @@ -2142,6 +2343,15 @@ binary-extensions@^2.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/binary-extensions/-/binary-extensions-2.1.0.tgz#30fa40c9e7fe07dbc895678cd287024dea241dd9" integrity sha512-1Yj8h9Q+QDF5FzhMs/c9+6UntbD5MkRfRwac8DoEm9ZfUBZ7tZ55YcGVAzEe4bXsdQHEk+s9S5wsOKVdZrw0tQ== +bl@^4.0.3, bl@^4.1.0: + version "4.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/bl/-/bl-4.1.0.tgz#451535264182bec2fbbc83a62ab98cf11d9f7b3a" + integrity sha512-1W07cM9gS6DcLperZfFSj+bWLtaPGSOHWhPiGzXmvVJbRLdG82sH/Kn8EtW1VqWVA54AKf2h5k5BbnIbwF3h6w== + dependencies: + buffer "^5.5.0" + inherits "^2.0.4" + readable-stream "^3.4.0" + bluebird@^3.5.1, bluebird@^3.5.3, bluebird@^3.5.5: version "3.7.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/bluebird/-/bluebird-3.7.2.tgz#9f229c15be272454ffa973ace0dbee79a1b0c36f" @@ -2163,7 +2373,7 @@ body-parser@1.19.0: raw-body "2.4.0" type-is "~1.6.17" -boolbase@~1.0.0: +boolbase@^1.0.0, boolbase@~1.0.0: version "1.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/boolbase/-/boolbase-1.0.0.tgz#68dff5fbe60c51eb37725ea9e3ed310dcc1e776e" integrity sha1-aN/1++YMUes3cl6p4+0xDcwed24= @@ -2228,11 +2438,24 @@ btoa-lite@^1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/btoa-lite/-/btoa-lite-1.0.0.tgz#337766da15801210fdd956c22e9c6891ab9d0337" integrity sha1-M3dm2hWAEhD92VbCLpxokaudAzc= +buffer-crc32@~0.2.3: + version "0.2.13" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/buffer-crc32/-/buffer-crc32-0.2.13.tgz#0d333e3f00eac50aa1454abd30ef8c2a5d9a7242" + integrity sha1-DTM+PwDqxQqhRUq9MO+MKl2ackI= + buffer-from@1.x, buffer-from@^1.0.0: version "1.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/buffer-from/-/buffer-from-1.1.1.tgz#32713bc028f75c02fdb710d7c7bcec1f2c6070ef" integrity sha512-MQcXEUbCKtEo7bhqEs6560Hyd4XaovZlO/k9V3hjVUF/zwW7KBVdSK4gIt/bzwS9MbR5qob+F5jusZsb0YQK2A== +buffer@^5.2.1, buffer@^5.5.0: + version "5.7.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/buffer/-/buffer-5.7.1.tgz#ba62e7c13133053582197160851a8f648e99eed0" + integrity sha512-EHcyIPBQ4BSGlvjB16k5KgAJ27CIsHY/2JBmCRReo48y9rQ3MaUzWX3KVlBa4U7MyX02HdVj0K7C3WaB3ju7FQ== + dependencies: + base64-js "^1.3.1" + ieee754 "^1.1.13" + builtins@^1.0.3: version "1.0.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/builtins/-/builtins-1.0.3.tgz#cb94faeb61c8696451db36534e1422f94f0aee88" @@ -2411,6 +2634,14 @@ chalk@^4.0.0, chalk@^4.1.0: ansi-styles "^4.1.0" supports-color "^7.1.0" +chalk@^4.1.1: + version "4.1.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/chalk/-/chalk-4.1.2.tgz#aac4e2b7734a740867aeb16bf02aad556a1e7a01" + integrity sha512-oKnbhFyRIXpUuez8iBMmyEa4nbj4IOQyuhc/wy9kY7/WVPcwIO9VA668Pu8RkO7+0G76SLROeyw9CpQ061i4mA== + dependencies: + ansi-styles "^4.1.0" + supports-color "^7.1.0" + char-regex@^1.0.2: version "1.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/char-regex/-/char-regex-1.0.2.tgz#d744358226217f981ed58f479b1d6bcc29545dcf" @@ -2441,6 +2672,45 @@ chardet@^0.7.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/chardet/-/chardet-0.7.0.tgz#90094849f0937f2eedc2425d0d28a9e5f0cbad9e" integrity sha512-mT8iDcrh03qDGRRmoA2hmBJnxpllMR+0/0qlzjqZES6NdiWDcZkCNAk4rPFZ9Q85r27unkiNNg8ZOiwZXBHwcA== +cheerio-select@^1.5.0: + version "1.5.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cheerio-select/-/cheerio-select-1.5.0.tgz#faf3daeb31b17c5e1a9dabcee288aaf8aafa5823" + integrity sha512-qocaHPv5ypefh6YNxvnbABM07KMxExbtbfuJoIie3iZXX1ERwYmJcIiRrr9H05ucQP1k28dav8rpdDgjQd8drg== + dependencies: + css-select "^4.1.3" + css-what "^5.0.1" + domelementtype "^2.2.0" + domhandler "^4.2.0" + domutils "^2.7.0" + +cheerio@^1.0.0-rc.6: + version "1.0.0-rc.10" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cheerio/-/cheerio-1.0.0-rc.10.tgz#2ba3dcdfcc26e7956fc1f440e61d51c643379f3e" + integrity sha512-g0J0q/O6mW8z5zxQ3A8E8J1hUgp4SMOvEoW/x84OwyHKe/Zccz83PVT4y5Crcr530FV6NgmKI1qvGTKVl9XXVw== + dependencies: + cheerio-select "^1.5.0" + dom-serializer "^1.3.2" + domhandler "^4.2.0" + htmlparser2 "^6.1.0" + parse5 "^6.0.1" + parse5-htmlparser2-tree-adapter "^6.0.1" + tslib "^2.2.0" + +"chokidar@>=3.0.0 <4.0.0", chokidar@^3.5.1: + version "3.5.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/chokidar/-/chokidar-3.5.2.tgz#dba3976fcadb016f66fd365021d91600d01c1e75" + integrity sha512-ekGhOnNVPgT77r4K/U3GDhu+FQ2S8TnK/s2KbIGXi0SZWuwkZ2QNyfWdZW+TVfn84DpEP7rLeCt2UI6bJ8GwbQ== + dependencies: + anymatch "~3.1.2" + braces "~3.0.2" + glob-parent "~5.1.2" + is-binary-path "~2.1.0" + is-glob "~4.0.1" + normalize-path "~3.0.0" + readdirp "~3.6.0" + optionalDependencies: + fsevents "~2.3.2" + chokidar@^3.4.0: version "3.4.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/chokidar/-/chokidar-3.4.0.tgz#b30611423ce376357c765b9b8f904b9fba3c0be8" @@ -2507,6 +2777,18 @@ cli-cursor@^3.1.0: dependencies: restore-cursor "^3.1.0" +cli-spinners@^2.5.0: + version "2.6.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cli-spinners/-/cli-spinners-2.6.0.tgz#36c7dc98fb6a9a76bd6238ec3f77e2425627e939" + integrity sha512-t+4/y50K/+4xcCRosKkA7W4gTr1MySvLV0q+PxmG7FJ5g+66ChKurYjxBCjHggHH3HA5Hh9cy+lcUGWDqVH+4Q== + +cli-table@^0.3.1: + version "0.3.6" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cli-table/-/cli-table-0.3.6.tgz#e9d6aa859c7fe636981fd3787378c2a20bce92fc" + integrity sha512-ZkNZbnZjKERTY5NwC2SeMeLeifSPq/pubeRoTpdr3WchLlnZg6hEgvHkK5zL7KNFdd9PmHN8lxrENUwI3cE8vQ== + dependencies: + colors "1.0.3" + cli-truncate@2.1.0, cli-truncate@^2.1.0: version "2.1.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cli-truncate/-/cli-truncate-2.1.0.tgz#c39e28bf05edcde5be3b98992a22deed5a2b93c7" @@ -2618,6 +2900,11 @@ color-name@~1.1.4: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/color-name/-/color-name-1.1.4.tgz#c2a09a87acbde69543de6f63fa3995c826c536a2" integrity sha512-dOy+3AuW3a2wNbZHIuMZpTcgjGuLU/uBL/ubcZF9OXbDo8ff4O8yVp5Bf0efS8uEoYo5q4Fx7dY9OgQGXgAsQA== +colors@1.0.3: + version "1.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/colors/-/colors-1.0.3.tgz#0433f44d809680fdeb60ed260f1b0c262e82a40b" + integrity sha1-BDP0TYCWgP3rYO0mDxsMJi6CpAs= + columnify@^1.5.4: version "1.5.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/columnify/-/columnify-1.5.4.tgz#4737ddf1c7b69a8a7c340570782e947eec8e78bb" @@ -2648,6 +2935,11 @@ commander@^5.1.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/commander/-/commander-5.1.0.tgz#46abbd1652f8e059bddaef99bbdcb2ad9cf179ae" integrity sha512-P0CysNDQ7rtVw4QIQtm+MRxV66vKFSvlsQvGYXZWR3qFU0jlMKHZZZgw8e+8DSah4UDKMqnknRDQz+xuQXQ/Zg== +commander@^7.2.0: + version "7.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/commander/-/commander-7.2.0.tgz#a36cb57d0b501ce108e4d20559a150a391d97ab7" + integrity sha512-QrWXB+ZQSVPmIWIhtEO9H+gwHaMGYiF5ChvoJ+K9ZGHG/sVsa6yiesAD1GC/x46sET00Xlwo1u49RVVVzvcSkw== + compare-func@^1.3.1: version "1.3.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/compare-func/-/compare-func-1.3.4.tgz#6b07c4c5e8341119baf44578085bda0f4a823516" @@ -2910,11 +3202,27 @@ cross-spawn@^7.0.0, cross-spawn@^7.0.3: shebang-command "^2.0.0" which "^2.0.1" +css-select@^4.1.3: + version "4.1.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/css-select/-/css-select-4.1.3.tgz#a70440f70317f2669118ad74ff105e65849c7067" + integrity sha512-gT3wBNd9Nj49rAbmtFHj1cljIAOLYSX1nZ8CB7TBO3INYckygm5B7LISU/szY//YmdiSLbJvDLOx9VnMVpMBxA== + dependencies: + boolbase "^1.0.0" + css-what "^5.0.0" + domhandler "^4.2.0" + domutils "^2.6.0" + nth-check "^2.0.0" + css-selector-parser@^1.0.0: version "1.4.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/css-selector-parser/-/css-selector-parser-1.4.1.tgz#03f9cb8a81c3e5ab2c51684557d5aaf6d2569759" integrity sha512-HYPSb7y/Z7BNDCOrakL4raGO2zltZkbeXyAd6Tg9obzix6QhzxCotdBl6VT0Dv4vZfJGVz3WL/xaEI9Ly3ul0g== +css-what@^5.0.0, css-what@^5.0.1: + version "5.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/css-what/-/css-what-5.0.1.tgz#3efa820131f4669a8ac2408f9c32e7c7de9f4cad" + integrity sha512-FYDTSHb/7KXsWICVsxdmiExPjCfRC4qRFBdVwv7Ax9hMnvMmEjP9RfxTEZ3qPZGmADDn2vAKSo9UcN1jKVYscg== + cssom@^0.4.4: version "0.4.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/cssom/-/cssom-0.4.4.tgz#5a66cf93d2d0b661d80bf6a44fb65f5c2e4e0a10" @@ -2994,6 +3302,13 @@ debug@3.1.0: dependencies: ms "2.0.0" +debug@4, debug@^4.3.1: + version "4.3.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/debug/-/debug-4.3.2.tgz#f0a49c18ac8779e31d4a0c6029dfb76873c7428b" + integrity sha512-mOp8wKcvj7XxC78zLgw/ZA+6TSgkoE2C/ienthhRD298T7UNwAg9diBpLRxC0mOezLl4B0xV7M0cCO6P/O0Xhw== + dependencies: + ms "2.1.2" + debug@^3.1.0: version "3.2.6" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/debug/-/debug-3.2.6.tgz#e83d17de16d8a7efb7717edbe5fb10135eee629b" @@ -3144,6 +3459,11 @@ detect-newline@^3.0.0, detect-newline@^3.1.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/detect-newline/-/detect-newline-3.1.0.tgz#576f5dfc63ae1a192ff192d8ad3af6308991b651" integrity sha512-TLz+x/vEXm/Y7P7wn1EJFNLxYpUD4TgMosxY6fAVJUnJMbupHBOncxyWUG9OpTaH9EBD7uFI5LfEgmMOc54DsA== +devtools-protocol@0.0.869402: + version "0.0.869402" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/devtools-protocol/-/devtools-protocol-0.0.869402.tgz#03ade701761742e43ae4de5dc188bcd80f156d8d" + integrity sha512-VvlVYY+VDJe639yHs5PHISzdWTLL3Aw8rO4cvUtwvoxFd6FHbE4OpHHcde52M6096uYYazAmd4l0o5VuFRO2WA== + dezalgo@^1.0.0: version "1.0.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/dezalgo/-/dezalgo-1.0.3.tgz#7f742de066fc748bc8db820569dddce49bf0d456" @@ -3181,7 +3501,12 @@ dir-glob@^3.0.1: dependencies: path-type "^4.0.0" -doctype@^2.0.0: +direction@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/direction/-/direction-1.0.4.tgz#2b86fb686967e987088caf8b89059370d4837442" + integrity sha512-GYqKi1aH7PJXxdhTeZBFrg8vUBeKXi+cNprXsC1kpJcbcVnV9wBsrOu1cQEdG0WeQwlfHiy3XvnKfIrJ2R0NzQ== + +doctype@^2.0.0, doctype@^2.0.4: version "2.0.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/doctype/-/doctype-2.0.4.tgz#c73599b188badc4f80e4f3a2b2652bd2b16e4048" integrity sha512-F/jNGPmCYBIj+La+gUPRJLqc6Rt+XCaHipUtYdAQ4Tzz1kW01PpcyYmQT2Mhw7VjBriAsSjwRVa1IRiyOvWX1Q== @@ -3194,6 +3519,15 @@ dom-serializer@0: domelementtype "^2.0.1" entities "^2.0.0" +dom-serializer@^1.0.1, dom-serializer@^1.3.2: + version "1.3.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/dom-serializer/-/dom-serializer-1.3.2.tgz#6206437d32ceefaec7161803230c7a20bc1b4d91" + integrity sha512-5c54Bk5Dw4qAxNOI1pFEizPSjVsx5+bpJKmL2kPn8JhBUq2q09tTCa3mjijun2NfK78NMouDYNMBkOrPZiS+ig== + dependencies: + domelementtype "^2.0.1" + domhandler "^4.2.0" + entities "^2.0.0" + domelementtype@1, domelementtype@^1.3.0: version "1.3.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domelementtype/-/domelementtype-1.3.1.tgz#d048c44b37b0d10a7f2a3d5fee3f4333d790481f" @@ -3204,6 +3538,11 @@ domelementtype@^2.0.1: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domelementtype/-/domelementtype-2.0.1.tgz#1f8bdfe91f5a78063274e803b4bdcedf6e94f94d" integrity sha512-5HOHUDsYZWV8FGWN0Njbr/Rn7f/eWSQi1v7+HsUVwXgn8nWWlL64zKDkS0n8ZmQ3mlWOMuXOnR+7Nx/5tMO5AQ== +domelementtype@^2.2.0: + version "2.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domelementtype/-/domelementtype-2.2.0.tgz#9a0b6c2782ed6a1c7323d42267183df9bd8b1d57" + integrity sha512-DtBMo82pv1dFtUmHyr48beiuq792Sxohr+8Hm9zoxklYPfa6n0Z3Byjj2IV7bmr2IyqClnqEQhfgHJJ5QF0R5A== + domexception@^2.0.1: version "2.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domexception/-/domexception-2.0.1.tgz#fb44aefba793e1574b0af6aed2801d057529f304" @@ -3218,6 +3557,13 @@ domhandler@^2.3.0: dependencies: domelementtype "1" +domhandler@^4.0.0, domhandler@^4.2.0: + version "4.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domhandler/-/domhandler-4.2.0.tgz#f9768a5f034be60a89a27c2e4d0f74eba0d8b059" + integrity sha512-zk7sgt970kzPks2Bf+dwT/PLzghLnsivb9CcxkvR8Mzr66Olr0Ofd8neSbglHJHaHa2MadfoSdNlKYAaafmWfA== + dependencies: + domelementtype "^2.2.0" + domutils@^1.5.1: version "1.7.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domutils/-/domutils-1.7.0.tgz#56ea341e834e06e6748af7a1cb25da67ea9f8c2a" @@ -3226,6 +3572,15 @@ domutils@^1.5.1: dom-serializer "0" domelementtype "1" +domutils@^2.5.2, domutils@^2.6.0, domutils@^2.7.0: + version "2.7.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/domutils/-/domutils-2.7.0.tgz#8ebaf0c41ebafcf55b0b72ec31c56323712c5442" + integrity sha512-8eaHa17IwJUPAiB+SoTYBo5mCdeMgdcAoXJ59m6DT1vw+5iLS3gNoqYaRowaBKtGVrOF1Jz4yDTgYKLK2kvfJg== + dependencies: + dom-serializer "^1.0.1" + domelementtype "^2.2.0" + domhandler "^4.2.0" + dot-prop@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/dot-prop/-/dot-prop-3.0.0.tgz#1b708af094a49c9a0e7dbcad790aba539dac1177" @@ -3300,7 +3655,7 @@ encoding@^0.1.11: dependencies: iconv-lite "~0.4.13" -end-of-stream@^1.0.0, end-of-stream@^1.1.0: +end-of-stream@^1.0.0, end-of-stream@^1.1.0, end-of-stream@^1.4.1: version "1.4.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/end-of-stream/-/end-of-stream-1.4.4.tgz#5ae64a5f45057baf3626ec14da0ca5e4b2431eb0" integrity sha512-+uw1inIHVPQoaVuHzRyXd21icM+cnt4CzD5rW+NC1wjOUSTOs+Te7FOv7AhN7vS9x/oIyhLP5PR1H+phQAHu5Q== @@ -3457,6 +3812,11 @@ escape-string-regexp@^2.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/escape-string-regexp/-/escape-string-regexp-2.0.0.tgz#a30304e99daa32e23b2fd20f51babd07cffca344" integrity sha512-UpzcLCXolUWcNu5HtVMHYdXJjArjsF9C0aNnquZYY4uW/Vu0miy5YoWvbV345HauVvcAUnpRuhMMcqTcGOY2+w== +escape-string-regexp@^4.0.0: + version "4.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/escape-string-regexp/-/escape-string-regexp-4.0.0.tgz#14ba83a5d373e3d311e5afca29cf5bfad965bf34" + integrity sha512-TtpcNJ3XAzx3Gq8sWRzJaVajRs0uVxA2YAkdb1jm2YkPz4G6egUFAyA3n5vtEIZefPk5Wa4UXbKuS5fKkJWdgA== + escodegen@^1.14.1: version "1.14.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/escodegen/-/escodegen-1.14.3.tgz#4e7b81fba61581dc97582ed78cab7f0e8d63f503" @@ -3712,6 +4072,17 @@ extglob@^2.0.4: snapdragon "^0.8.1" to-regex "^3.0.1" +extract-zip@^2.0.0: + version "2.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/extract-zip/-/extract-zip-2.0.1.tgz#663dca56fe46df890d5f131ef4a06d22bb8ba13a" + integrity sha512-GDhU9ntwuKyGXdZBUgTIe+vXnWj0fppUEtMDL0+idd5Sta8TGpHssn/eusA9mrPr9qNDym6SxAYZjNvCn/9RBg== + dependencies: + debug "^4.1.1" + get-stream "^5.1.0" + yauzl "^2.10.0" + optionalDependencies: + "@types/yauzl" "^2.9.1" + extsprintf@1.3.0: version "1.3.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/extsprintf/-/extsprintf-1.3.0.tgz#96918440e3041a7a414f8c52e3c574eb3c3e1e05" @@ -3773,6 +4144,11 @@ fast-url-parser@1.1.3: dependencies: punycode "^1.3.2" +fast-xml-parser@^3.19.0: + version "3.19.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fast-xml-parser/-/fast-xml-parser-3.19.0.tgz#cb637ec3f3999f51406dd8ff0e6fc4d83e520d01" + integrity sha512-4pXwmBplsCPv8FOY1WRakF970TjNGnGnfbOnLqjlYvMiF1SR3yOHyxMR/YCXpPTOspNF5gwudqktIP4VsWkvBg== + fastq@^1.6.0: version "1.8.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fastq/-/fastq-1.8.0.tgz#550e1f9f59bbc65fe185cb6a9b4d95357107f481" @@ -3794,6 +4170,13 @@ fb-watchman@^2.0.0: dependencies: bser "2.1.1" +fd-slicer@~1.1.0: + version "1.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fd-slicer/-/fd-slicer-1.1.0.tgz#25c7c89cb1f9077f8891bbe61d8f390eae256f1e" + integrity sha1-JcfInLH5B3+IkbvmHY85Dq4lbx4= + dependencies: + pend "~1.2.0" + figgy-pudding@^3.4.1, figgy-pudding@^3.5.1: version "3.5.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/figgy-pudding/-/figgy-pudding-3.5.2.tgz#b4eee8148abb01dcf1d1ac34367d59e12fa61d6e" @@ -3973,6 +4356,11 @@ from2@^2.1.0: inherits "^2.0.1" readable-stream "^2.0.0" +fs-constants@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fs-constants/-/fs-constants-1.0.0.tgz#6be0de9be998ce16af8afc24497b9ee9b7ccd9ad" + integrity sha512-y6OAwoSIf7FyjMIv94u+b5rdheZEjzR63GTyZJm5qh4Bi+2YgwLCcI/fPFZkL5PSixOt6ZNKm+w+Hfp/Bciwow== + fs-extra@^8.1.0: version "8.1.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fs-extra/-/fs-extra-8.1.0.tgz#49d43c45a88cd9677668cb7be1b46efdb8d2e1c0" @@ -4009,6 +4397,11 @@ fsevents@^2.1.2, fsevents@~2.1.2: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fsevents/-/fsevents-2.1.3.tgz#fb738703ae8d2f9fe900c33836ddebee8b97f23e" integrity sha512-Auw9a4AxqWpa9GUfj370BMPzzyncfBABW8Mab7BGWBYDj4Isgq+cDKtx0i6u9jcX9pQDnswsaaOTgTmA5pEjuQ== +fsevents@~2.3.2: + version "2.3.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/fsevents/-/fsevents-2.3.2.tgz#8a526f78b8fdf4623b709e0b975c52c24c02fd1a" + integrity sha512-xiqMQR4xAeHTuB9uWm+fFRcIOgKBMiOBP+eXiyT7jsgVCq1bkVygt00oASowB7EdtpOHaaPgKt812P9ab+DDKA== + function-bind@^1.1.1: version "1.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/function-bind/-/function-bind-1.1.1.tgz#a56899d3ea3c9bab874bb9773b7c5ede92f4895d" @@ -4093,6 +4486,13 @@ get-stream@^5.0.0: dependencies: pump "^3.0.0" +get-stream@^5.1.0: + version "5.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/get-stream/-/get-stream-5.2.0.tgz#4966a1795ee5ace65e706c4b7beb71257d6e22d3" + integrity sha512-nBF+F1rAZVCu/p7rjzgA+Yb4lfYXrpl7a6VmJrU8wF9I1CKvP/QwPNZHnOlwbTkY6dvtFIzFMSyQXbLoTQPRpA== + dependencies: + pump "^3.0.0" + get-stream@^6.0.0: version "6.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/get-stream/-/get-stream-6.0.0.tgz#3e0012cb6827319da2706e601a1583e8629a6718" @@ -4172,7 +4572,7 @@ gitconfiglocal@^1.0.0: dependencies: ini "^1.3.2" -github-slugger@^1.0.0: +github-slugger@^1.0.0, github-slugger@^1.3.0: version "1.3.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/github-slugger/-/github-slugger-1.3.0.tgz#9bd0a95c5efdfc46005e82a906ef8e2a059124c9" integrity sha512-gwJScWVNhFYSRDvURk/8yhcFBee6aFjye2a7Lhb2bUyRulpIoek9p0I9Kt7PT67d/nUlZbFu8L9RLiA0woQN8Q== @@ -4194,6 +4594,13 @@ glob-parent@^5.0.0, glob-parent@^5.1.0, glob-parent@~5.1.0: dependencies: is-glob "^4.0.1" +glob-parent@~5.1.2: + version "5.1.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/glob-parent/-/glob-parent-5.1.2.tgz#869832c58034fe68a4093c17dc15e8340d8401c4" + integrity sha512-AOIgSQCepiJYwP3ARnGx+5VnTu2HBYdzbGP45eLw1vr3zB3vZLeyed1sC9hnbcOc9/SrMyM5RPQrkGz4aS9Zow== + dependencies: + is-glob "^4.0.1" + glob-to-regexp@^0.3.0: version "0.3.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/glob-to-regexp/-/glob-to-regexp-0.3.0.tgz#8c5a1494d2066c570cc3bfe4496175acc4d502ab" @@ -4240,6 +4647,18 @@ globby@^11.0.2: merge2 "^1.3.0" slash "^3.0.0" +globby@^11.0.3: + version "11.0.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/globby/-/globby-11.0.4.tgz#2cbaff77c2f2a62e71e9b2813a67b97a3a3001a5" + integrity sha512-9O4MVG9ioZJ08ffbcyVYyLOJLk5JQ688pJ4eMGLpdWLHq/Wr1D9BlriLQyL0E+jbkuePVZXYFj47QM/v093wHg== + dependencies: + array-union "^2.1.0" + dir-glob "^3.0.1" + fast-glob "^3.1.1" + ignore "^5.1.4" + merge2 "^1.3.0" + slash "^3.0.0" + globby@^9.2.0: version "9.2.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/globby/-/globby-9.2.0.tgz#fd029a706c703d29bdd170f4b6db3a3f7a7cb63d" @@ -4378,6 +4797,26 @@ hast-to-hyperscript@^7.0.0: unist-util-is "^3.0.0" web-namespaces "^1.1.2" +hast-to-hyperscript@^9.0.0: + version "9.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-to-hyperscript/-/hast-to-hyperscript-9.0.1.tgz#9b67fd188e4c81e8ad66f803855334173920218d" + integrity sha512-zQgLKqF+O2F72S1aa4y2ivxzSlko3MAvxkwG8ehGmNiqd98BIN3JM1rAJPmplEyLmGLO2QZYJtIneOSZ2YbJuA== + dependencies: + "@types/unist" "^2.0.3" + comma-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + property-information "^5.3.0" + space-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + style-to-object "^0.3.0" + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + web-namespaces "^1.0.0" + +hast-util-embedded@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.6" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-embedded/-/hast-util-embedded-1.0.6.tgz#ea7007323351cc43e19e1d6256b7cde66ad1aa03" + integrity sha512-JQMW+TJe0UAIXZMjCJ4Wf6ayDV9Yv3PBDPsHD4ExBpAspJ6MOcCX+nzVF+UJVv7OqPcg852WEMSHQPoRA+FVSw== + dependencies: + hast-util-is-element "^1.1.0" + hast-util-find-and-replace@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-find-and-replace/-/hast-util-find-and-replace-3.0.0.tgz#04422e781be807661768f4796332a3f17cdd987e" @@ -4387,6 +4826,15 @@ hast-util-find-and-replace@^3.0.0: hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" +hast-util-find-and-replace@^3.2.0: + version "3.2.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-find-and-replace/-/hast-util-find-and-replace-3.2.1.tgz#e4a0e26db58197faccdbf386c8a7f63aa80796a9" + integrity sha512-Xe4iNeJQHB02SITkc2TyeGytxKWF8aGYcP6k2oCpdClTDVzNkJdLhf88fr0FMj+v1AHCjgv+m6vSEsMJN0RHTw== + dependencies: + escape-string-regexp "^4.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.1.0" + unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" + hast-util-from-parse5@^5.0.0: version "5.0.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-from-parse5/-/hast-util-from-parse5-5.0.3.tgz#3089dc0ee2ccf6ec8bc416919b51a54a589e097c" @@ -4398,16 +4846,56 @@ hast-util-from-parse5@^5.0.0: web-namespaces "^1.1.2" xtend "^4.0.1" +hast-util-from-parse5@^6.0.0: + version "6.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-from-parse5/-/hast-util-from-parse5-6.0.1.tgz#554e34abdeea25ac76f5bd950a1f0180e0b3bc2a" + integrity sha512-jeJUWiN5pSxW12Rh01smtVkZgZr33wBokLzKLwinYOUfSzm1Nl/c3GUGebDyOKjdsRgMvoVbV0VpAcpjF4NrJA== + dependencies: + "@types/parse5" "^5.0.0" + hastscript "^6.0.0" + property-information "^5.0.0" + vfile "^4.0.0" + vfile-location "^3.2.0" + web-namespaces "^1.0.0" + +hast-util-has-property@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-has-property/-/hast-util-has-property-1.0.4.tgz#9f137565fad6082524b382c1e7d7d33ca5059f36" + integrity sha512-ghHup2voGfgFoHMGnaLHOjbYFACKrRh9KFttdCzMCbFoBMJXiNi2+XTrPP8+q6cDJM/RSqlCfVWrjp1H201rZg== + +hast-util-is-body-ok-link@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-is-body-ok-link/-/hast-util-is-body-ok-link-1.0.4.tgz#49ab2fad52ef04fe70adcbc95c9fc3a6358c32be" + integrity sha512-mFblNpLvFbD8dG2Nw5dJBYZkxIHeph1JAh5yr4huI7T5m8cV0zaXNiqzKPX/JdjA+tIDF7c33u9cxK132KRjyQ== + dependencies: + hast-util-has-property "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element@^1.0.0, hast-util-is-element@^1.0.4: version "1.0.4" resolved 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"https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-phrasing/-/hast-util-phrasing-1.0.5.tgz#45fb7d3efc70128b61491f9e3f080a554f138b1d" + integrity sha512-P3uxm+8bnwcfAS/XpGie9wMmQXAQqsYhgQQKRwmWH/V6chiq0lmTy8KjQRJmYjusdMtNKGCUksdILSZy1suSpQ== + dependencies: + hast-util-embedded "^1.0.0" + hast-util-has-property "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-body-ok-link "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" + hast-util-raw@^5.0.0: version "5.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-raw/-/hast-util-raw-5.0.2.tgz#62288f311ec2f35e066a30d5e0277f963ad43a67" @@ -4422,6 +4910,43 @@ hast-util-raw@^5.0.0: xtend "^4.0.0" zwitch "^1.0.0" +hast-util-raw@^6.1.0: + version "6.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-raw/-/hast-util-raw-6.1.0.tgz#e16a3c2642f65cc7c480c165400a40d604ab75d0" + integrity sha512-5FoZLDHBpka20OlZZ4I/+RBw5piVQ8iI1doEvffQhx5CbCyTtP8UCq8Tw6NmTAMtXgsQxmhW7Ly8OdFre5/YMQ== + dependencies: + "@types/hast" "^2.0.0" + hast-util-from-parse5 "^6.0.0" + hast-util-to-parse5 "^6.0.0" + html-void-elements "^1.0.0" + parse5 "^6.0.0" + unist-util-position "^3.0.0" + unist-util-visit "^2.0.0" + vfile "^4.0.0" + web-namespaces "^1.0.0" + xtend "^4.0.0" + zwitch "^1.0.0" + +hast-util-select@^4.0.2: + version "4.0.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-select/-/hast-util-select-4.0.2.tgz#ae3ef2860e02cda2ad3a2e72b47c1f5e8f44e9e7" + integrity sha512-8EEG2//bN5rrzboPWD2HdS3ugLijNioS1pqOTIolXNf67xxShYw4SQEmVXd3imiBG+U2bC2nVTySr/iRAA7Cjg== + dependencies: + bcp-47-match "^1.0.0" + comma-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + css-selector-parser "^1.0.0" + direction "^1.0.0" + hast-util-has-property "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" + hast-util-to-string "^1.0.0" + hast-util-whitespace "^1.0.0" + not "^0.1.0" + nth-check "^2.0.0" + property-information "^5.0.0" + space-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + unist-util-visit "^2.0.0" + zwitch "^1.0.0" + hast-util-to-html@^7.1.1: version "7.1.1" resolved 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hast-util-to-parse5@^5.0.0: xtend "^4.0.0" zwitch "^1.0.0" +hast-util-to-parse5@^6.0.0: + version "6.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-to-parse5/-/hast-util-to-parse5-6.0.0.tgz#1ec44650b631d72952066cea9b1445df699f8479" + integrity sha512-Lu5m6Lgm/fWuz8eWnrKezHtVY83JeRGaNQ2kn9aJgqaxvVkFCZQBEhgodZUDUvoodgyROHDb3r5IxAEdl6suJQ== + dependencies: + hast-to-hyperscript "^9.0.0" + property-information "^5.0.0" + web-namespaces "^1.0.0" + xtend "^4.0.0" + zwitch "^1.0.0" + +hast-util-to-string@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.4" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-to-string/-/hast-util-to-string-1.0.4.tgz#9b24c114866bdb9478927d7e9c36a485ac728378" + integrity sha512-eK0MxRX47AV2eZ+Lyr18DCpQgodvaS3fAQO2+b9Two9F5HEoRPhiUMNzoXArMJfZi2yieFzUBMRl3HNJ3Jus3w== + hast-util-to-text@^2.0.0: version "2.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-to-text/-/hast-util-to-text-2.0.0.tgz#c59afa8798145c10d40c2f34f92900f4dfc8ac69" @@ -4458,7 +5015,7 @@ hast-util-to-text@^2.0.0: repeat-string "^1.0.0" unist-util-find-after "^3.0.0" -hast-util-whitespace@^1.0.0: +hast-util-whitespace@^1.0.0, hast-util-whitespace@^1.0.4: version "1.0.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hast-util-whitespace/-/hast-util-whitespace-1.0.4.tgz#e4fe77c4a9ae1cb2e6c25e02df0043d0164f6e41" integrity sha512-I5GTdSfhYfAPNztx2xJRQpG8cuDSNt599/7YUn7Gx/WxNMsG+a835k97TDkFgk123cwjfwINaZknkKkphx/f2A== @@ -4473,11 +5030,29 @@ hastscript@^5.0.0, hastscript@^5.1.2: property-information "^5.0.0" space-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" +hastscript@^6.0.0: + version "6.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hastscript/-/hastscript-6.0.0.tgz#e8768d7eac56c3fdeac8a92830d58e811e5bf640" + integrity sha512-nDM6bvd7lIqDUiYEiu5Sl/+6ReP0BMk/2f4U/Rooccxkj0P5nm+acM5PrGJ/t5I8qPGiqZSE6hVAwZEdZIvP4w== + dependencies: + "@types/hast" "^2.0.0" + comma-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + hast-util-parse-selector "^2.0.0" + property-information "^5.0.0" + space-separated-tokens "^1.0.0" + hosted-git-info@^2.1.4, hosted-git-info@^2.7.1: version "2.8.9" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hosted-git-info/-/hosted-git-info-2.8.9.tgz#dffc0bf9a21c02209090f2aa69429e1414daf3f9" integrity sha512-mxIDAb9Lsm6DoOJ7xH+5+X4y1LU/4Hi50L9C5sIswK3JzULS4bwk1FvjdBgvYR4bzT4tuUQiC15FE2f5HbLvYw== +hosted-git-info@^4.0.1: + version "4.0.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/hosted-git-info/-/hosted-git-info-4.0.2.tgz#5e425507eede4fea846b7262f0838456c4209961" + integrity sha512-c9OGXbZ3guC/xOlCg1Ci/VgWlwsqDv1yMQL1CWqXDL0hDjXuNcq0zuR4xqPSuasI3kqFDhqSyTjREz5gzq0fXg== + dependencies: + lru-cache "^6.0.0" + html-element-attributes@^2.0.0: version "2.2.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/html-element-attributes/-/html-element-attributes-2.2.1.tgz#ff397c7a3d6427064b117b6f36b45be08e79db93" @@ -4500,6 +5075,21 @@ html-void-elements@^1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/html-void-elements/-/html-void-elements-1.0.5.tgz#ce9159494e86d95e45795b166c2021c2cfca4483" integrity sha512-uE/TxKuyNIcx44cIWnjr/rfIATDH7ZaOMmstu0CwhFG1Dunhlp4OC6/NMbhiwoq5BpW0ubi303qnEk/PZj614w== +html-whitespace-sensitive-tag-names@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/html-whitespace-sensitive-tag-names/-/html-whitespace-sensitive-tag-names-1.0.3.tgz#60325c5bd331048d14ced6bac419c89d76cc9dd8" + integrity sha512-GX1UguduCBEAEo1hjFxc2Bz04/sDq0ACNyT7LsuoDcPfXYI3nS0NRPp3dyazLJyVUMp3GPBB56i/0Zr6CqD2PQ== + +htmlparser2@^6.1.0: + version "6.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/htmlparser2/-/htmlparser2-6.1.0.tgz#c4d762b6c3371a05dbe65e94ae43a9f845fb8fb7" + integrity sha512-gyyPk6rgonLFEDGoeRgQNaEUvdJ4ktTmmUh/h2t7s+M8oPpIPxgNACWa+6ESR57kXstwqPiCut0V8NRpcwgU7A== + dependencies: + domelementtype "^2.0.1" + domhandler "^4.0.0" + domutils "^2.5.2" + entities "^2.0.0" + htmlparser2@~3.9.2: version "3.9.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/htmlparser2/-/htmlparser2-3.9.2.tgz#1bdf87acca0f3f9e53fa4fcceb0f4b4cbb00b338" @@ -4564,6 +5154,14 @@ https-proxy-agent@^2.2.3: agent-base "^4.3.0" debug "^3.1.0" +https-proxy-agent@^5.0.0: + version "5.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/https-proxy-agent/-/https-proxy-agent-5.0.0.tgz#e2a90542abb68a762e0a0850f6c9edadfd8506b2" + integrity sha512-EkYm5BcKUGiduxzSt3Eppko+PiNWNEpa4ySk9vTC6wDsQJW9rHSa+UhGNJoRYp7bz6Ht1eaRIa6QaJqO5rCFbA== + dependencies: + agent-base "6" + debug "4" + human-signals@^1.1.1: version "1.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/human-signals/-/human-signals-1.1.1.tgz#c5b1cd14f50aeae09ab6c59fe63ba3395fe4dfa3" @@ -4604,6 +5202,11 @@ iconv-lite@0.4.24, iconv-lite@^0.4.24, iconv-lite@~0.4.13: dependencies: safer-buffer ">= 2.1.2 < 3" +ieee754@^1.1.13: + version "1.2.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ieee754/-/ieee754-1.2.1.tgz#8eb7a10a63fff25d15a57b001586d177d1b0d352" + integrity sha512-dcyqhDvX1C46lXZcVqCpK+FtMRQVdIMN6/Df5js2zouUsqG7I6sFxitIC+7KYK29KdXOLHdu9zL4sFnoVQnqaA== + iferr@^0.1.5: version "0.1.5" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/iferr/-/iferr-0.1.5.tgz#c60eed69e6d8fdb6b3104a1fcbca1c192dc5b501" @@ -4638,6 +5241,13 @@ ignore@^5.1.4: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ignore/-/ignore-5.1.8.tgz#f150a8b50a34289b33e22f5889abd4d8016f0e57" integrity sha512-BMpfD7PpiETpBl/A6S498BaIJ6Y/ABT93ETbby2fP00v4EbvPBXWEoaR1UBPKs3iR53pJY7EtZk5KACI57i1Uw== +image-size@^0.9.4: + version "0.9.7" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/image-size/-/image-size-0.9.7.tgz#43b4ead4b1310d5ae310a559d52935a347e47c09" + integrity sha512-KRVgLNZkr00YGN0qn9MlIrmlxbRhsCcEb1Byq3WKGnIV4M48iD185cprRtaoK4t5iC+ym2Q5qlArxZ/V1yzDgA== + dependencies: + queue "6.0.2" + import-fresh@^2.0.0: version "2.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/import-fresh/-/import-fresh-2.0.0.tgz#d81355c15612d386c61f9ddd3922d4304822a546" @@ -4877,6 +5487,13 @@ is-ci@^2.0.0: dependencies: ci-info "^2.0.0" +is-core-module@^2.2.0: + version "2.5.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-core-module/-/is-core-module-2.5.0.tgz#f754843617c70bfd29b7bd87327400cda5c18491" + integrity sha512-TXCMSDsEHMEEZ6eCA8rwRDbLu55MRGmrctljsBX/2v1d9/GzqHOxW5c5oPSgrUt2vBFXebu9rGqckXGPWOlYpg== + dependencies: + has "^1.0.3" + is-data-descriptor@^0.1.4: version "0.1.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-data-descriptor/-/is-data-descriptor-0.1.4.tgz#0b5ee648388e2c860282e793f1856fec3f301b56" @@ -4992,6 +5609,11 @@ is-hexadecimal@^1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-hexadecimal/-/is-hexadecimal-1.0.4.tgz#cc35c97588da4bd49a8eedd6bc4082d44dcb23a7" integrity sha512-gyPJuv83bHMpocVYoqof5VDiZveEoGoFL8m3BXNb2VW8Xs+rz9kqO8LOQ5DH6EsuvilT1ApazU0pyl+ytbPtlw== +is-interactive@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-interactive/-/is-interactive-1.0.0.tgz#cea6e6ae5c870a7b0a0004070b7b587e0252912e" + integrity sha512-2HvIEKRoqS62guEC+qBjpvRubdX910WCMuJTZ+I9yvqKU2/12eSL549HMwtabb4oupdj2sMP50k+XJfB/8JE6w== + is-number@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-number/-/is-number-3.0.0.tgz#24fd6201a4782cf50561c810276afc7d12d71195" @@ -5089,6 +5711,11 @@ is-typedarray@^1.0.0, is-typedarray@~1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-typedarray/-/is-typedarray-1.0.0.tgz#e479c80858df0c1b11ddda6940f96011fcda4a9a" integrity sha1-5HnICFjfDBsR3dppQPlgEfzaSpo= +is-unicode-supported@^0.1.0: + version "0.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-unicode-supported/-/is-unicode-supported-0.1.0.tgz#3f26c76a809593b52bfa2ecb5710ed2779b522a7" + integrity sha512-knxG2q4UC3u8stRGyAVJCOdxFmv5DZiRcdlIaAQXAbSfJya+OhopNotLQrstBhququ4ZpuKbDc/8S6mgXgPFPw== + is-utf8@^0.2.0, is-utf8@^0.2.1: version "0.2.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/is-utf8/-/is-utf8-0.2.1.tgz#4b0da1442104d1b336340e80797e865cf39f7d72" @@ -5572,6 +6199,13 @@ js-yaml@^3.13.1, js-yaml@^3.14.0: argparse "^1.0.7" esprima "^4.0.0" +js-yaml@^4.0.0: + version "4.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/js-yaml/-/js-yaml-4.1.0.tgz#c1fb65f8f5017901cdd2c951864ba18458a10602" + integrity sha512-wpxZs9NoxZaJESJGIZTyDEaYpl0FKSA+FB9aJiyemKhMwkxQg63h4T1KJgUGHpTqPDNRcmmYLugrRjJlBtWvRA== + dependencies: + argparse "^2.0.1" + jsbn@~0.1.0: version "0.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/jsbn/-/jsbn-0.1.1.tgz#a5e654c2e5a2deb5f201d96cefbca80c0ef2f513" @@ -5624,6 +6258,11 @@ json-schema-traverse@^0.4.1: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/json-schema-traverse/-/json-schema-traverse-0.4.1.tgz#69f6a87d9513ab8bb8fe63bdb0979c448e684660" integrity sha512-xbbCH5dCYU5T8LcEhhuh7HJ88HXuW3qsI3Y0zOZFKfZEHcpWiHU/Jxzk629Brsab/mMiHQti9wMP+845RPe3Vg== +json-schema-traverse@^1.0.0: + version "1.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/json-schema-traverse/-/json-schema-traverse-1.0.0.tgz#ae7bcb3656ab77a73ba5c49bf654f38e6b6860e2" + integrity sha512-NM8/P9n3XjXhIZn1lLhkFaACTOURQXjWhV4BA/RnOv8xvgqtqpAX9IO4mRQxSx1Rlo4tqzeqb0sOlruaOy3dug== + json-schema@0.2.3: version "0.2.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/json-schema/-/json-schema-0.2.3.tgz#b480c892e59a2f05954ce727bd3f2a4e882f9e13" @@ -5910,6 +6549,14 @@ log-symbols@^4.0.0: dependencies: chalk "^4.0.0" +log-symbols@^4.1.0: + version "4.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/log-symbols/-/log-symbols-4.1.0.tgz#3fbdbb95b4683ac9fc785111e792e558d4abd503" + integrity sha512-8XPvpAA8uyhfteu8pIvQxpJZ7SYYdpUivZpGy6sFsBuKRY/7rQGavedeB8aK+Zkyq6upMFVL/9AW6vOYzfRyLg== + dependencies: + chalk "^4.1.0" + is-unicode-supported "^0.1.0" + log-update@^4.0.0: version "4.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/log-update/-/log-update-4.0.0.tgz#589ecd352471f2a1c0c570287543a64dfd20e0a1" @@ -5935,6 +6582,13 @@ lru-cache@^5.1.1: dependencies: yallist "^3.0.2" +lru-cache@^6.0.0: + version "6.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/lru-cache/-/lru-cache-6.0.0.tgz#6d6fe6570ebd96aaf90fcad1dafa3b2566db3a94" + integrity 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sha512-9cKl33Y21lyckGzpSmEQnIDjEfeeWelN5s1kUW1LwdB0Fkuq2u+4GdqcGEygYxJE8GVqCl0741bYXHgamfWAZA== + dependencies: + escape-string-regexp "^4.0.0" + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" + +mdast-util-to-hast@^10.1.1, mdast-util-to-hast@^10.2.0: + version "10.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mdast-util-to-hast/-/mdast-util-to-hast-10.2.0.tgz#61875526a017d8857b71abc9333942700b2d3604" + integrity sha512-JoPBfJ3gBnHZ18icCwHR50orC9kNH81tiR1gs01D8Q5YpV6adHNO9nKNuFBCJQ941/32PT1a63UF/DitmS3amQ== + dependencies: + "@types/mdast" "^3.0.0" + "@types/unist" "^2.0.0" + mdast-util-definitions "^4.0.0" + mdurl "^1.0.0" + unist-builder "^2.0.0" + unist-util-generated "^1.0.0" + unist-util-position "^3.0.0" + unist-util-visit "^2.0.0" + mdast-util-to-hast@^9.1.0: version "9.1.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mdast-util-to-hast/-/mdast-util-to-hast-9.1.0.tgz#6ef121dd3cd3b006bf8650b1b9454da0faf79ffe" @@ -6064,6 +6748,11 @@ mdast-util-to-string@^1.0.0, mdast-util-to-string@^1.1.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mdast-util-to-string/-/mdast-util-to-string-1.1.0.tgz#27055500103f51637bd07d01da01eb1967a43527" integrity sha512-jVU0Nr2B9X3MU4tSK7JP1CMkSvOj7X5l/GboG1tKRw52lLF1x2Ju92Ms9tNetCcbfX3hzlM73zYo2NKkWSfF/A== +mdast-util-to-string@^2.0.0: + version "2.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mdast-util-to-string/-/mdast-util-to-string-2.0.0.tgz#b8cfe6a713e1091cb5b728fc48885a4767f8b97b" + integrity sha512-AW4DRS3QbBayY/jJmD8437V1Gombjf8RSOUCMFBuo5iHi58AGEgVCKQ+ezHkZZDpAQS75hcBMpLqjpJTjtUL7w== + mdurl@^1.0.0: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mdurl/-/mdurl-1.0.1.tgz#fe85b2ec75a59037f2adfec100fd6c601761152e" @@ -6143,6 +6832,24 @@ meow@^7.0.0, meow@^7.0.1: type-fest "^0.13.1" yargs-parser "^18.1.3" +meow@^9.0.0: + version "9.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/meow/-/meow-9.0.0.tgz#cd9510bc5cac9dee7d03c73ee1f9ad959f4ea364" + integrity sha512-+obSblOQmRhcyBt62furQqRAQpNyWXo8BuQ5bN7dG8wmwQ+vwHKp/rCFD4CrTP8CsDQD1sjoZ94K417XEUk8IQ== + dependencies: + "@types/minimist" "^1.2.0" + camelcase-keys "^6.2.2" + decamelize "^1.2.0" + decamelize-keys "^1.1.0" + hard-rejection "^2.1.0" + minimist-options "4.1.0" + normalize-package-data "^3.0.0" + read-pkg-up "^7.0.1" + redent "^3.0.0" + trim-newlines "^3.0.0" + type-fest "^0.18.0" + yargs-parser "^20.2.3" + merge-descriptors@1.0.1: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/merge-descriptors/-/merge-descriptors-1.0.1.tgz#b00aaa556dd8b44568150ec9d1b953f3f90cbb61" @@ -6195,6 +6902,11 @@ mime-db@1.44.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mime-db/-/mime-db-1.44.0.tgz#fa11c5eb0aca1334b4233cb4d52f10c5a6272f92" integrity sha512-/NOTfLrsPBVeH7YtFPgsVWveuL+4SjjYxaQ1xtM1KMFj7HdxlBlxeyNLzhyJVx7r4rZGJAZ/6lkKCitSc/Nmpg== +mime-db@1.49.0: + version "1.49.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mime-db/-/mime-db-1.49.0.tgz#f3dfde60c99e9cf3bc9701d687778f537001cbed" + integrity sha512-CIc8j9URtOVApSFCQIF+VBkX1RwXp/oMMOrqdyXSBXq5RWNEsRfyj1kiRnQgmNXmHxPoFIxOroKA3zcU9P+nAA== + mime-db@~1.33.0: version "1.33.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mime-db/-/mime-db-1.33.0.tgz#a3492050a5cb9b63450541e39d9788d2272783db" @@ -6214,6 +6926,13 @@ mime-types@^2.1.12, mime-types@~2.1.19, mime-types@~2.1.24: dependencies: mime-db "1.44.0" +mime-types@^2.1.30: + version "2.1.32" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mime-types/-/mime-types-2.1.32.tgz#1d00e89e7de7fe02008db61001d9e02852670fd5" + integrity sha512-hJGaVS4G4c9TSMYh2n6SQAGrC4RnfU+daP8G7cSCmaqNjiOoUY0VHCMS42pxnQmVF1GWwFhbHWn3RIxCqTmZ9A== + dependencies: + mime-db "1.49.0" + mime@1.6.0: version "1.6.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mime/-/mime-1.6.0.tgz#32cd9e5c64553bd58d19a568af452acff04981b1" @@ -6241,15 +6960,7 @@ minimatch@3.0.4, minimatch@^3.0.4: dependencies: brace-expansion "^1.1.7" -minimist-options@^3.0.1: - version "3.0.2" - resolved 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arrify "^1.0.1" + is-plain-obj "^1.1.0" + minimist@^1.1.1, minimist@^1.1.3, minimist@^1.2.0, minimist@^1.2.5, minimist@~1.2.0: version "1.2.5" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/minimist/-/minimist-1.2.5.tgz#67d66014b66a6a8aaa0c083c5fd58df4e4e97602" @@ -6302,6 +7021,11 @@ mixin-deep@^1.2.0: for-in "^1.0.2" is-extendable "^1.0.1" +mkdirp-classic@^0.5.2: + version "0.5.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mkdirp-classic/-/mkdirp-classic-0.5.3.tgz#fa10c9115cc6d8865be221ba47ee9bed78601113" + integrity sha512-gKLcREMhtuZRwRAfqP3RFW+TK4JqApVBtOIftVgjuABpAtpxhPGaDcfvbhNvD0B8iD1oUr/txX35NjcaY6Ns/A== + mkdirp-promise@^5.0.1: version "5.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mkdirp-promise/-/mkdirp-promise-5.0.1.tgz#e9b8f68e552c68a9c1713b84883f7a1dd039b8a1" @@ -6353,7 +7077,7 @@ ms@2.1.1: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ms/-/ms-2.1.1.tgz#30a5864eb3ebb0a66f2ebe6d727af06a09d86e0a" integrity sha512-tgp+dl5cGk28utYktBsrFqA7HKgrhgPsg6Z/EfhWI4gl1Hwq8B/GmY/0oXZ6nF8hDVesS/FpnYaD/kOWhYQvyg== -ms@^2.0.0, ms@^2.1.1: +ms@2.1.2, ms@^2.0.0, ms@^2.1.1: version "2.1.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ms/-/ms-2.1.2.tgz#d09d1f357b443f493382a8eb3ccd183872ae6009" integrity sha512-sGkPx+VjMtmA6MX27oA4FBFELFCZZ4S4XqeGOXCv68tT+jb3vk/RyaKWP0PTKyWtmLSM0b+adUTEvbs1PEaH2w== @@ -6379,6 +7103,11 @@ multimatch@^4.0.0: arrify "^2.0.1" minimatch "^3.0.4" +mustache@^4.0.0: + version "4.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mustache/-/mustache-4.2.0.tgz#e5892324d60a12ec9c2a73359edca52972bf6f64" + integrity sha512-71ippSywq5Yb7/tVYyGbkBggbU8H3u5Rz56fH60jGFgr8uHwxs+aSKeqmluIVzM0m0kB7xQjKS6qPfd0b2ZoqQ== + mute-stream@0.0.7: version "0.0.7" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/mute-stream/-/mute-stream-0.0.7.tgz#3075ce93bc21b8fab43e1bc4da7e8115ed1e7bab" @@ -6454,7 +7183,7 @@ node-fetch-npm@^2.0.2: json-parse-better-errors "^1.0.0" safe-buffer "^5.1.1" -node-fetch@^2.3.0, node-fetch@^2.5.0, node-fetch@^2.6.0: +node-fetch@^2.3.0, node-fetch@^2.5.0, node-fetch@^2.6.0, node-fetch@^2.6.1: version "2.6.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/node-fetch/-/node-fetch-2.6.1.tgz#045bd323631f76ed2e2b55573394416b639a0052" integrity sha512-V4aYg89jEoVRxRb2fJdAg8FHvI7cEyYdVAh94HH0UIK8oJxUfkjlDQN9RbMx+bEjP7+ggMiFRprSti032Oipxw== @@ -6498,6 +7227,11 @@ node-notifier@^7.0.0: uuid "^7.0.3" which "^2.0.2" +node-stream-zip@^1.13.3: + version "1.14.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/node-stream-zip/-/node-stream-zip-1.14.0.tgz#fdf9b86d10d55c1e50aa1be4fea88bae256c4eba" + integrity sha512-SKXyiBy9DBemsPHf/piHT00Y+iPK+zwru1G6+8UdOBzITnmmPMHYBMV6M1znyzyhDhUFQW0HEmbGiPqtp51M6Q== + nopt@^4.0.1: version "4.0.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/nopt/-/nopt-4.0.3.tgz#a375cad9d02fd921278d954c2254d5aa57e15e48" @@ -6516,6 +7250,16 @@ normalize-package-data@^2.0.0, normalize-package-data@^2.3.0, normalize-package- semver "2 || 3 || 4 || 5" validate-npm-package-license "^3.0.1" +normalize-package-data@^3.0.0: + version "3.0.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/normalize-package-data/-/normalize-package-data-3.0.2.tgz#cae5c410ae2434f9a6c1baa65d5bc3b9366c8699" + integrity sha512-6CdZocmfGaKnIHPVFhJJZ3GuR8SsLKvDANFp47Jmy51aKIr8akjAWTSxtpI+MBgBFdSMRyo4hMpDlT6dTffgZg== + dependencies: + hosted-git-info "^4.0.1" + resolve "^1.20.0" + semver "^7.3.4" + validate-npm-package-license "^3.0.1" + normalize-path@^2.1.1: version "2.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/normalize-path/-/normalize-path-2.1.1.tgz#1ab28b556e198363a8c1a6f7e6fa20137fe6aed9" @@ -6645,6 +7389,13 @@ nth-check@^1.0.0: dependencies: boolbase "~1.0.0" +nth-check@^2.0.0: + version "2.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/nth-check/-/nth-check-2.0.0.tgz#1bb4f6dac70072fc313e8c9cd1417b5074c0a125" + integrity sha512-i4sc/Kj8htBrAiH1viZ0TgU8Y5XqCaV/FziYK6TBczxmeKm3AEFWqqF3195yKudrarqy7Zu80Ra5dobFjn9X/Q== + dependencies: + boolbase "^1.0.0" + number-is-nan@^1.0.0: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/number-is-nan/-/number-is-nan-1.0.1.tgz#097b602b53422a522c1afb8790318336941a011d" @@ -6781,6 +7532,21 @@ optionator@^0.8.1: type-check "~0.3.2" word-wrap "~1.2.3" +ora@^5.4.0: + version "5.4.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/ora/-/ora-5.4.1.tgz#1b2678426af4ac4a509008e5e4ac9e9959db9e18" + integrity sha512-5b6Y85tPxZZ7QytO+BQzysW31HJku27cRIlkbAXaNx+BdcVi+LlRFmVXzeF6a7JCwJpyw5c4b+YSVImQIrBpuQ== + dependencies: + bl "^4.1.0" + chalk "^4.1.0" + cli-cursor "^3.1.0" + cli-spinners "^2.5.0" + is-interactive "^1.0.0" + is-unicode-supported "^0.1.0" + log-symbols "^4.1.0" + strip-ansi "^6.0.0" + wcwidth "^1.0.1" + os-homedir@^1.0.0: version "1.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/os-homedir/-/os-homedir-1.0.2.tgz#ffbc4988336e0e833de0c168c7ef152121aa7fb3" @@ -6910,6 +7676,11 @@ p-waterfall@^1.0.0: dependencies: p-reduce "^1.0.0" +pako@^1.0.10, pako@^1.0.11, pako@^1.0.6: + version "1.0.11" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/pako/-/pako-1.0.11.tgz#6c9599d340d54dfd3946380252a35705a6b992bf" + integrity sha512-4hLB8Py4zZce5s4yd9XzopqwVv/yGNhV1Bl8NTmCq1763HeK2+EwVTv+leGeL13Dnh2wfbqowVPXCIO0z4taYw== + parallel-transform@^1.1.0: version "1.2.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/parallel-transform/-/parallel-transform-1.2.0.tgz#9049ca37d6cb2182c3b1d2c720be94d14a5814fc" @@ -6998,11 +7769,23 @@ parse-url@^5.0.0: parse-path "^4.0.0" protocols "^1.4.0" +parse5-htmlparser2-tree-adapter@^6.0.1: + version "6.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/parse5-htmlparser2-tree-adapter/-/parse5-htmlparser2-tree-adapter-6.0.1.tgz#2cdf9ad823321140370d4dbf5d3e92c7c8ddc6e6" + integrity sha512-qPuWvbLgvDGilKc5BoicRovlT4MtYT6JfJyBOMDsKoiT+GiuP5qyrPCnR9HcPECIJJmZh5jRndyNThnhhb/vlA== + dependencies: + parse5 "^6.0.1" + parse5@5.1.1, parse5@^5.0.0: version "5.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/parse5/-/parse5-5.1.1.tgz#f68e4e5ba1852ac2cadc00f4555fff6c2abb6178" integrity 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sha512-P/1SSmElOBKrPlbc+Sn7UxikRQbzVA64+4Dh6/uczPscvq/NatP9eryoOguyBTpTnzICNiG8EnMH4Ziqp2TnFA== + dependencies: + "@pdf-lib/standard-fonts" "^1.0.0" + "@pdf-lib/upng" "^1.0.1" + pako "^1.0.11" + tslib "^1.11.1" + +pend@~1.2.0: + version "1.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/pend/-/pend-1.2.0.tgz#7a57eb550a6783f9115331fcf4663d5c8e007a50" + integrity sha1-elfrVQpng/kRUzH89GY9XI4AelA= + performance-now@^2.1.0: version "2.1.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/performance-now/-/performance-now-2.1.0.tgz#6309f4e0e5fa913ec1c69307ae364b4b377c9e7b" @@ -7178,11 +7976,36 @@ prelude-ls@~1.1.2: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/prelude-ls/-/prelude-ls-1.1.2.tgz#21932a549f5e52ffd9a827f570e04be62a97da54" integrity sha1-IZMqVJ9eUv/ZqCf1cOBL5iqX2lQ= +press-ready@^4.0.3: + version "4.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/press-ready/-/press-ready-4.0.3.tgz#90827dddb2f36db1c05715ecf331ca33a53edace" + integrity 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"https://registry.yarnpkg.com/pretty-format/-/pretty-format-25.5.0.tgz#7873c1d774f682c34b8d48b6743a2bf2ac55791a" @@ -7222,11 +8045,21 @@ prismjs@~1.20.0: optionalDependencies: clipboard "^2.0.0" +prismjs@~1.24.0: + version "1.24.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/prismjs/-/prismjs-1.24.1.tgz#c4d7895c4d6500289482fa8936d9cdd192684036" + integrity sha512-mNPsedLuk90RVJioIky8ANZEwYm5w9LcvCXrxHlwf4fNVSn8jEipMybMkWUyyF0JhnC+C4VcOVSBuHRKs1L5Ow== + process-nextick-args@~2.0.0: version "2.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/process-nextick-args/-/process-nextick-args-2.0.1.tgz#7820d9b16120cc55ca9ae7792680ae7dba6d7fe2" integrity sha512-3ouUOpQhtgrbOa17J7+uxOTpITYWaGP7/AhoR3+A+/1e9skrzelGi/dXzEYyvbxubEF6Wn2ypscTKiKJFFn1ag== +progress@^2.0.1: + version "2.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/progress/-/progress-2.0.3.tgz#7e8cf8d8f5b8f239c1bc68beb4eb78567d572ef8" + integrity sha512-7PiHtLll5LdnKIMw100I+8xJXR5gW2QwWYkT6iJva0bXitZKa/XMrSbdmg3r2Xnaidz9Qumd0VPaMrZlF9V9sA== + promise-inflight@^1.0.1: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/promise-inflight/-/promise-inflight-1.0.1.tgz#98472870bf228132fcbdd868129bad12c3c029e3" @@ -7287,6 +8120,11 @@ proxy-addr@~2.0.5: forwarded "~0.1.2" ipaddr.js "1.9.1" +proxy-from-env@^1.1.0: + version "1.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/proxy-from-env/-/proxy-from-env-1.1.0.tgz#e102f16ca355424865755d2c9e8ea4f24d58c3e2" + integrity sha512-D+zkORCbA9f1tdWRK0RaCR3GPv50cMxcrz4X8k5LTSUD1Dkw47mKJEZQNunItRTkWwgtaUSo1RVFRIG9ZXiFYg== + psl@^1.1.28: version "1.8.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/psl/-/psl-1.8.0.tgz#9326f8bcfb013adcc005fdff056acce020e51c24" @@ -7327,6 +8165,24 @@ punycode@^2.1.0, punycode@^2.1.1: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/punycode/-/punycode-2.1.1.tgz#b58b010ac40c22c5657616c8d2c2c02c7bf479ec" integrity sha512-XRsRjdf+j5ml+y/6GKHPZbrF/8p2Yga0JPtdqTIY2Xe5ohJPD9saDJJLPvp9+NSBprVvevdXZybnj2cv8OEd0A== +puppeteer@9.0.0: + version "9.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/puppeteer/-/puppeteer-9.0.0.tgz#b476e17ceb3e33a6667bf682d66dde9898f9c031" + integrity sha512-Avu8SKWQRC1JKNMgfpH7d4KzzHOL/A65jRYrjNU46hxnOYGwqe4zZp/JW8qulaH0Pnbm5qyO3EbSKvqBUlfvkg== + dependencies: + debug "^4.1.0" + devtools-protocol "0.0.869402" + extract-zip "^2.0.0" + https-proxy-agent "^5.0.0" + node-fetch "^2.6.1" + pkg-dir "^4.2.0" + progress "^2.0.1" + proxy-from-env "^1.1.0" + rimraf "^3.0.2" + tar-fs "^2.0.0" + unbzip2-stream "^1.3.3" + ws "^7.2.3" + q@^1.5.1: version "1.5.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/q/-/q-1.5.1.tgz#7e32f75b41381291d04611f1bf14109ac00651d7" @@ -7342,6 +8198,13 @@ qs@~6.5.2: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/qs/-/qs-6.5.2.tgz#cb3ae806e8740444584ef154ce8ee98d403f3e36" integrity sha512-N5ZAX4/LxJmF+7wN74pUD6qAh9/wnvdQcjq9TZjevvXzSUo7bfmw91saqMjzGS2xq91/odN2dW/WOl7qQHNDGA== +queue@6.0.2: + version "6.0.2" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/queue/-/queue-6.0.2.tgz#b91525283e2315c7553d2efa18d83e76432fed65" + integrity sha512-iHZWu+q3IdFZFX36ro/lKBkSvfkztY5Y7HMiPlOUjhupPcG2JMfst2KKEpu5XndviX/3UhFbRngUPNKtgvtZiA== + dependencies: + inherits "~2.0.3" + quick-lru@^1.0.0: version "1.1.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/quick-lru/-/quick-lru-1.1.0.tgz#4360b17c61136ad38078397ff11416e186dcfbb8" @@ -7488,7 +8351,7 @@ read@1, read@~1.0.1: string_decoder "~1.1.1" util-deprecate "~1.0.1" -"readable-stream@2 || 3", readable-stream@^3.0.2: +"readable-stream@2 || 3", readable-stream@^3.0.2, readable-stream@^3.1.1, readable-stream@^3.4.0: version "3.6.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/readable-stream/-/readable-stream-3.6.0.tgz#337bbda3adc0706bd3e024426a286d4b4b2c9198" integrity sha512-BViHy7LKeTz4oNnkcLJ+lVSL6vpiFeX6/d3oSH8zCW7UxP2onchk+vTGB143xuFjHS3deTgkKoXXymXqymiIdA== @@ -7514,6 +8377,13 @@ readdirp@~3.4.0: dependencies: picomatch "^2.2.1" +readdirp@~3.6.0: + version "3.6.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/readdirp/-/readdirp-3.6.0.tgz#74a370bd857116e245b29cc97340cd431a02a6c7" + integrity sha512-hOS089on8RduqdbhvQ5Z37A0ESjsqz6qnRcffsMU3495FuTdqSm+7bhJ29JvIOsBDEEnan5DPu9t3To9VRlMzA== + dependencies: + picomatch "^2.2.1" + rechoir@^0.6.2: version "0.6.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rechoir/-/rechoir-0.6.2.tgz#85204b54dba82d5742e28c96756ef43af50e3384" @@ -7554,6 +8424,15 @@ refractor@^3.0.0: parse-entities "^2.0.0" prismjs "~1.20.0" +refractor@^3.3.0: + version "3.4.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/refractor/-/refractor-3.4.0.tgz#62bd274b06c942041f390c371b676eb67cb0a678" + integrity sha512-dBeD02lC5eytm9Gld2Mx0cMcnR+zhSnsTfPpWqFaMgUMJfC9A6bcN3Br/NaXrnBJcuxnLFR90k1jrkaSyV8umg== + dependencies: + hastscript "^6.0.0" + parse-entities "^2.0.0" + prismjs "~1.24.0" + regenerator-runtime@^0.11.0: version "0.11.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/regenerator-runtime/-/regenerator-runtime-0.11.1.tgz#be05ad7f9bf7d22e056f9726cee5017fbf19e2e9" @@ -7577,6 +8456,20 @@ rehype-document@^5.1.0: hastscript "^5.0.0" unist-builder "^2.0.0" +rehype-format@^3.1.0: + version "3.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-format/-/rehype-format-3.1.0.tgz#3ed1214b4b0047cb7817e6b3471f3515caebab26" + integrity sha512-XC88CLU83x6ocwHbDsqbK/y+qNxqWcSp7gZdYeJzUZPQH05ABFke3Zb+H53UGsRAUTB2W95/UMMtn/pM+UFiKQ== + dependencies: + hast-util-embedded "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" + hast-util-phrasing "^1.0.0" + hast-util-whitespace "^1.0.0" + html-whitespace-sensitive-tag-names "^1.0.0" + rehype-minify-whitespace "^4.0.0" + repeat-string "^1.0.0" + unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" + rehype-katex@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-katex/-/rehype-katex-3.0.0.tgz#3847ff8110d9ae795c12cdc70fbceb6d122bbfc6" @@ -7588,6 +8481,16 @@ rehype-katex@^3.0.0: unified "^8.0.0" unist-util-visit "^2.0.0" +rehype-minify-whitespace@^4.0.0: + version "4.0.5" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-minify-whitespace/-/rehype-minify-whitespace-4.0.5.tgz#5b4781786116216f6d5d7ceadf84e2489dd7b3cd" + integrity sha512-QC3Z+bZ5wbv+jGYQewpAAYhXhzuH/TVRx7z08rurBmh9AbG8Nu8oJnvs9LWj43Fd/C7UIhXoQ7Wddgt+ThWK5g== + dependencies: + hast-util-embedded "^1.0.0" + hast-util-is-element "^1.0.0" + hast-util-whitespace "^1.0.4" + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + rehype-parse@^6.0.0: version "6.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-parse/-/rehype-parse-6.0.2.tgz#aeb3fdd68085f9f796f1d3137ae2b85a98406964" @@ -7604,6 +8507,13 @@ rehype-raw@^4.0.2: dependencies: hast-util-raw "^5.0.0" +rehype-raw@^5.0.0: + version "5.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-raw/-/rehype-raw-5.1.0.tgz#66d5e8d7188ada2d31bc137bc19a1000cf2c6b7e" + integrity sha512-MDvHAb/5mUnif2R+0IPCYJU8WjHa9UzGtM/F4AVy5GixPlDZ1z3HacYy4xojDU+uBa+0X/3PIfyQI26/2ljJNA== + dependencies: + hast-util-raw "^6.1.0" + rehype-stringify@^8.0.0: version "8.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rehype-stringify/-/rehype-stringify-8.0.0.tgz#9b6afb599bcf3165f10f93fc8548f9a03d2ec2ba" @@ -7631,6 +8541,11 @@ remark-footnotes@^1.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/remark-footnotes/-/remark-footnotes-1.0.0.tgz#9c7a97f9a89397858a50033373020b1ea2aad011" integrity sha512-X9Ncj4cj3/CIvLI2Z9IobHtVi8FVdUrdJkCNaL9kdX8ohfsi18DXHsCVd/A7ssARBdccdDb5ODnt62WuEWaM/g== +remark-footnotes@^2.0.0: + version "2.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/remark-footnotes/-/remark-footnotes-2.0.0.tgz#9001c4c2ffebba55695d2dd80ffb8b82f7e6303f" + integrity sha512-3Clt8ZMH75Ayjp9q4CorNeyjwIxHFcTkaektplKGl2A1jNGEUey8cKL0ZC5vJwfcD5GFGsNLImLG/NGzWIzoMQ== + remark-frontmatter@^1.2.0: version "1.3.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/remark-frontmatter/-/remark-frontmatter-1.3.3.tgz#67ec63c89da5a84bb793ecec166e11b4eb47af10" @@ -7701,6 +8616,13 @@ remark-rehype@^7.0.0: dependencies: mdast-util-to-hast "^9.1.0" +remark-rehype@^8.0.0: + version "8.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/remark-rehype/-/remark-rehype-8.1.0.tgz#610509a043484c1e697437fa5eb3fd992617c945" + integrity 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"https://registry.yarnpkg.com/require-main-filename/-/require-main-filename-2.0.0.tgz#d0b329ecc7cc0f61649f62215be69af54aa8989b" @@ -7842,6 +8769,14 @@ resolve@^1.1.6, resolve@^1.10.0, resolve@^1.17.0, resolve@^1.3.2: dependencies: path-parse "^1.0.6" +resolve@^1.20.0: + version "1.20.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/resolve/-/resolve-1.20.0.tgz#629a013fb3f70755d6f0b7935cc1c2c5378b1975" + integrity sha512-wENBPt4ySzg4ybFQW2TT1zMQucPK95HSh/nq2CFTZVOGut2+pQvSsgtda4d26YrYcr067wjbmzOG8byDPBX63A== + dependencies: + is-core-module "^2.2.0" + path-parse "^1.0.6" + restore-cursor@^2.0.0: version "2.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/restore-cursor/-/restore-cursor-2.0.0.tgz#9f7ee287f82fd326d4fd162923d62129eee0dfaf" @@ -7880,7 +8815,7 @@ rimraf@^2.5.4, rimraf@^2.6.2, rimraf@^2.6.3: dependencies: glob "^7.1.3" -rimraf@^3.0.0: +rimraf@^3.0.0, rimraf@^3.0.2: version "3.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/rimraf/-/rimraf-3.0.2.tgz#f1a5402ba6220ad52cc1282bac1ae3aa49fd061a" integrity sha512-JZkJMZkAGFFPP2YqXZXPbMlMBgsxzE8ILs4lMIX/2o0L9UBw9O/Y3o6wFw/i9YLapcUJWwqbi3kdxIPdC62TIA== @@ -7960,6 +8895,13 @@ sane@^4.0.3: minimist "^1.1.1" walker "~1.0.5" +sass@^1.32.8: + version "1.37.5" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/sass/-/sass-1.37.5.tgz#f6838351f7cc814c4fcfe1d9a20e0cabbd1e7b3c" + integrity sha512-Cx3ewxz9QB/ErnVIiWg2cH0kiYZ0FPvheDTVC6BsiEGBTZKKZJ1Gq5Kq6jy3PKtL6+EJ8NIoaBW/RSd2R6cZOA== + dependencies: + chokidar ">=3.0.0 <4.0.0" + saxes@^5.0.0: version "5.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/saxes/-/saxes-5.0.1.tgz#eebab953fa3b7608dbe94e5dadb15c888fa6696d" @@ -7997,6 +8939,13 @@ semver@^6.0.0, semver@^6.2.0, semver@^6.3.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/semver/-/semver-6.3.0.tgz#ee0a64c8af5e8ceea67687b133761e1becbd1d3d" integrity sha512-b39TBaTSfV6yBrapU89p5fKekE2m/NwnDocOVruQFS1/veMgdzuPcnOM34M6CwxW8jH/lxEa5rBoDeUwu5HHTw== +semver@^7.3.4: + version "7.3.5" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/semver/-/semver-7.3.5.tgz#0b621c879348d8998e4b0e4be94b3f12e6018ef7" + integrity sha512-PoeGJYh8HK4BTO/a9Tf6ZG3veo/A7ZVsYrSA6J8ny9nb3B1VrpkuN+z9OE5wfE5p6H4LchYZsegiQgbJD94ZFQ== + dependencies: + lru-cache "^6.0.0" + send@0.17.1: version "0.17.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/send/-/send-0.17.1.tgz#c1d8b059f7900f7466dd4938bdc44e11ddb376c8" @@ -8096,7 +9045,7 @@ shell-quote@^1.6.1: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/shell-quote/-/shell-quote-1.7.2.tgz#67a7d02c76c9da24f99d20808fcaded0e0e04be2" integrity sha512-mRz/m/JVscCrkMyPqHc/bczi3OQHkLTqXHEFu0zDhK/qfv3UcOA4SVmRCLmos4bhjr9ekVQubj/R7waKapmiQg== -shelljs@^0.8.1: +shelljs@^0.8.1, shelljs@^0.8.3, shelljs@^0.8.4: version "0.8.4" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/shelljs/-/shelljs-0.8.4.tgz#de7684feeb767f8716b326078a8a00875890e3c2" integrity sha512-7gk3UZ9kOfPLIAbslLzyWeGiEqx9e3rxwZM0KE6EL8GlGwjym9Mrlx5/p33bWTu9YG6vcS4MBxYZDHYr5lr8BQ== @@ -8594,6 +9543,13 @@ style-to-object@^0.2.1: dependencies: inline-style-parser "0.1.1" +style-to-object@^0.3.0: + version "0.3.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/style-to-object/-/style-to-object-0.3.0.tgz#b1b790d205991cc783801967214979ee19a76e46" + integrity sha512-CzFnRRXhzWIdItT3OmF8SQfWyahHhjq3HwcMNCNLn+N7klOOqPjMeG/4JSu77D7ypZdGvSzvkrbyeTMizz2VrA== + dependencies: + inline-style-parser "0.1.1" + supports-color@^5.3.0: version "5.5.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/supports-color/-/supports-color-5.5.0.tgz#e2e69a44ac8772f78a1ec0b35b689df6530efc8f" @@ -8621,6 +9577,27 @@ symbol-tree@^3.2.4: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/symbol-tree/-/symbol-tree-3.2.4.tgz#430637d248ba77e078883951fb9aa0eed7c63fa2" integrity sha512-9QNk5KwDF+Bvz+PyObkmSYjI5ksVUYtjW7AU22r2NKcfLJcXp96hkDWU3+XndOsUb+AQ9QhfzfCT2O+CNWT5Tw== +tar-fs@^2.0.0: + version "2.1.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/tar-fs/-/tar-fs-2.1.1.tgz#489a15ab85f1f0befabb370b7de4f9eb5cbe8784" + integrity 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is-buffer "^2.0.0" + is-plain-obj "^2.0.0" + trough "^1.0.0" + vfile "^4.0.0" + union-value@^1.0.0: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/union-value/-/union-value-1.0.1.tgz#0b6fe7b835aecda61c6ea4d4f02c14221e109847" @@ -9080,6 +10099,13 @@ unist-util-filter@^2.0.2: flatmap "0.0.3" unist-util-is "^4.0.0" +unist-util-filter@^2.0.3: + version "2.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-filter/-/unist-util-filter-2.0.3.tgz#558cf866016f0e7ade1e30ef190abf253111dd39" + integrity sha512-8k6Jl/KLFqIRTHydJlHh6+uFgqYHq66pV75pZgr1JwfyFSjbWb12yfb0yitW/0TbHXjr9U4G9BQpOvMANB+ExA== + dependencies: + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + unist-util-find-after@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-find-after/-/unist-util-find-after-3.0.0.tgz#5c65fcebf64d4f8f496db46fa8fd0fbf354b43e6" @@ -9097,6 +10123,11 @@ unist-util-inspect@^6.0.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-inspect/-/unist-util-inspect-6.0.0.tgz#56866c2170aacdb8e5199f8dae9c40b4a3b3629d" integrity sha512-mwdQMGuDCIlsNpi48s4wSknJympqmROAc+oMjyNNmAfeU7ynytukfqjvEjEASnPdHrS2f4WMThly40rI8UCyzQ== +unist-util-inspect@^6.0.1: + version "6.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-inspect/-/unist-util-inspect-6.0.1.tgz#1b6b52bc9af8632eb968227dc8ddaccb349913ad" + integrity sha512-odX3qLR7qhUnUYXsVClNNyiKftVcHDnd10fUBMmZekvyFS/M8toMsKhXQr7sW66NsFiEezQTCxX3M0dpGbfM3w== + unist-util-is@^3.0.0: version "3.0.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-is/-/unist-util-is-3.0.0.tgz#d9e84381c2468e82629e4a5be9d7d05a2dd324cd" @@ -9133,6 +10164,13 @@ unist-util-remove@^2.0.0: dependencies: unist-util-is "^4.0.0" +unist-util-remove@^2.0.1: + version "2.1.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-remove/-/unist-util-remove-2.1.0.tgz#b0b4738aa7ee445c402fda9328d604a02d010588" + integrity 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"https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-stringify-position/-/unist-util-stringify-position-1.1.2.tgz#3f37fcf351279dcbca7480ab5889bb8a832ee1c6" @@ -9171,6 +10220,14 @@ unist-util-visit-parents@^3.0.0, unist-util-visit-parents@^3.0.2: "@types/unist" "^2.0.0" unist-util-is "^4.0.0" +unist-util-visit-parents@^3.1.1: + version "3.1.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-visit-parents/-/unist-util-visit-parents-3.1.1.tgz#65a6ce698f78a6b0f56aa0e88f13801886cdaef6" + integrity sha512-1KROIZWo6bcMrZEwiH2UrXDyalAa0uqzWCxCJj6lPOvTve2WkfgCytoDTPaMnodXh1WrXOq0haVYHj99ynJlsg== + dependencies: + "@types/unist" "^2.0.0" + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + unist-util-visit@^1.1.0: version "1.4.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-visit/-/unist-util-visit-1.4.1.tgz#4724aaa8486e6ee6e26d7ff3c8685960d560b1e3" @@ -9187,6 +10244,15 @@ unist-util-visit@^2.0.0, unist-util-visit@^2.0.2: unist-util-is "^4.0.0" unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" +unist-util-visit@^2.0.3: + version "2.0.3" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/unist-util-visit/-/unist-util-visit-2.0.3.tgz#c3703893146df47203bb8a9795af47d7b971208c" + integrity sha512-iJ4/RczbJMkD0712mGktuGpm/U4By4FfDonL7N/9tATGIF4imikjOuagyMY53tnZq3NP6BcmlrHhEKAfGWjh7Q== + dependencies: + "@types/unist" "^2.0.0" + unist-util-is "^4.0.0" + unist-util-visit-parents "^3.0.0" + universal-user-agent@^4.0.0: version "4.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/universal-user-agent/-/universal-user-agent-4.0.1.tgz#fd8d6cb773a679a709e967ef8288a31fcc03e557" @@ -9224,6 +10290,11 @@ upath@^1.2.0: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/upath/-/upath-1.2.0.tgz#8f66dbcd55a883acdae4408af8b035a5044c1894" integrity sha512-aZwGpamFO61g3OlfT7OQCHqhGnW43ieH9WZeP7QxN/G/jS4jfqUkZxoryvJgVPEcrl5NL/ggHsSmLMHuH64Lhg== +upath@^2.0.1: + version "2.0.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/upath/-/upath-2.0.1.tgz#50c73dea68d6f6b990f51d279ce6081665d61a8b" + integrity 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sha512-yYBO06eeN/Ki6Kh1QAkgzYpWT1d3Qln+ZCtSbJqFExPl1S3y2qqotJQXoh6qEvl/jDlgpUJolBn3PItVnnZRqQ== +vfile-location@^3.2.0: + version "3.2.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/vfile-location/-/vfile-location-3.2.0.tgz#d8e41fbcbd406063669ebf6c33d56ae8721d0f3c" + integrity sha512-aLEIZKv/oxuCDZ8lkJGhuhztf/BW4M+iHdCwglA/eWc+vtuRFJj8EtgceYFX4LRjOhCAAiNHsKGssC6onJ+jbA== + vfile-message@^1.0.0: version "1.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/vfile-message/-/vfile-message-1.1.1.tgz#5833ae078a1dfa2d96e9647886cd32993ab313e1" @@ -9362,6 +10438,16 @@ vfile@^4.0.0: unist-util-stringify-position "^2.0.0" vfile-message "^2.0.0" +vfile@^4.2.1: + version "4.2.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/vfile/-/vfile-4.2.1.tgz#03f1dce28fc625c625bc6514350fbdb00fa9e624" + integrity sha512-O6AE4OskCG5S1emQ/4gl8zK586RqA3srz3nfK/Viy0UPToBc5Trp9BVFb1u0CjsKrAWwnpr4ifM/KBXPWwJbCA== + dependencies: + "@types/unist" "^2.0.0" + is-buffer "^2.0.0" + unist-util-stringify-position "^2.0.0" + vfile-message "^2.0.0" + w3c-hr-time@^1.0.2: version "1.0.2" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/w3c-hr-time/-/w3c-hr-time-1.0.2.tgz#0a89cdf5cc15822df9c360543676963e0cc308cd" @@ -9383,7 +10469,7 @@ walker@^1.0.7, walker@~1.0.5: dependencies: makeerror "1.0.x" -wcwidth@^1.0.0: +wcwidth@^1.0.0, wcwidth@^1.0.1: version "1.0.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/wcwidth/-/wcwidth-1.0.1.tgz#f0b0dcf915bc5ff1528afadb2c0e17b532da2fe8" integrity sha1-8LDc+RW8X/FSivrbLA4XtTLaL+g= @@ -9597,6 +10683,11 @@ yallist@^3.0.0, yallist@^3.0.2, yallist@^3.0.3: resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yallist/-/yallist-3.1.1.tgz#dbb7daf9bfd8bac9ab45ebf602b8cbad0d5d08fd" integrity sha512-a4UGQaWPH59mOXUYnAG2ewncQS4i4F43Tv3JoAM+s2VDAmS9NsK8GpDMLrCHPksFT7h3K6TOoUNn2pb7RoXx4g== +yallist@^4.0.0: + version "4.0.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yallist/-/yallist-4.0.0.tgz#9bb92790d9c0effec63be73519e11a35019a3a72" + integrity sha512-3wdGidZyq5PB084XLES5TpOSRA3wjXAlIWMhum2kRcv/41Sn2emQ0dycQW4uZXLejwKvg6EsvbdlVL+FYEct7A== + yaml@^1.7.2: version "1.10.0" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yaml/-/yaml-1.10.0.tgz#3b593add944876077d4d683fee01081bd9fff31e" @@ -9610,7 +10701,7 @@ yargs-interactive@^3.0.0: inquirer "^7.0.0" yargs "^14.0.0" -yargs-parser@18.x, yargs-parser@^18.1.1, yargs-parser@^18.1.3: +yargs-parser@18.x, yargs-parser@^18.1.1, yargs-parser@^18.1.2, yargs-parser@^18.1.3: version "18.1.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yargs-parser/-/yargs-parser-18.1.3.tgz#be68c4975c6b2abf469236b0c870362fab09a7b0" integrity sha512-o50j0JeToy/4K6OZcaQmW6lyXXKhq7csREXcDwk2omFPJEwUNOVtJKvmDr9EI1fAJZUyZcRF7kxGBWmRXudrCQ== @@ -9626,6 +10717,11 @@ yargs-parser@^15.0.1: camelcase "^5.0.0" decamelize "^1.2.0" +yargs-parser@^20.2.3: + version "20.2.9" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yargs-parser/-/yargs-parser-20.2.9.tgz#2eb7dc3b0289718fc295f362753845c41a0c94ee" + integrity sha512-y11nGElTIV+CT3Zv9t7VKl+Q3hTQoT9a1Qzezhhl6Rp21gJ/IVTW7Z3y9EWXhuUBC2Shnf+DX0antecpAwSP8w== + yargs@^14.0.0, yargs@^14.2.2: version "14.2.3" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yargs/-/yargs-14.2.3.tgz#1a1c3edced1afb2a2fea33604bc6d1d8d688a414" @@ -9643,6 +10739,23 @@ yargs@^14.0.0, yargs@^14.2.2: y18n "^4.0.0" yargs-parser "^15.0.1" +yargs@^15.1.0: + version "15.4.1" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yargs/-/yargs-15.4.1.tgz#0d87a16de01aee9d8bec2bfbf74f67851730f4f8" + integrity sha512-aePbxDmcYW++PaqBsJ+HYUFwCdv4LVvdnhBy78E57PIor8/OVvhMrADFFEDh8DHDFRv/O9i3lPhsENjO7QX0+A== + dependencies: + cliui "^6.0.0" + decamelize "^1.2.0" + find-up "^4.1.0" + get-caller-file "^2.0.1" + require-directory "^2.1.1" + require-main-filename "^2.0.0" + set-blocking "^2.0.0" + string-width "^4.2.0" + which-module "^2.0.0" + y18n "^4.0.0" + yargs-parser "^18.1.2" + yargs@^15.3.1: version "15.3.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yargs/-/yargs-15.3.1.tgz#9505b472763963e54afe60148ad27a330818e98b" @@ -9660,6 +10773,14 @@ yargs@^15.3.1: y18n "^4.0.0" yargs-parser "^18.1.1" +yauzl@^2.10.0: + version "2.10.0" + resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yauzl/-/yauzl-2.10.0.tgz#c7eb17c93e112cb1086fa6d8e51fb0667b79a5f9" + integrity sha1-x+sXyT4RLLEIb6bY5R+wZnt5pfk= + dependencies: + buffer-crc32 "~0.2.3" + fd-slicer "~1.1.0" + yn@3.1.1: version "3.1.1" resolved "https://registry.yarnpkg.com/yn/-/yn-3.1.1.tgz#1e87401a09d767c1d5eab26a6e4c185182d2eb50"