Читать книгу Все приключения Шерлока Холмса / All adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Артур Конан Дойл, Исмаил Шихлы - Страница 14

Our prisoner smiled.

“I guess you’re going to take me to the police-station,” he remarked to Sherlock Holmes. “My cab’s at the door. If you’ll loose my legs I’ll walk down to it.”

Gregson and Lestrade exchanged glances; but Holmes loosened the towel.

“If there’s a vacant place for a chief of the police, I can recommend this man,” said Jefferson Hope, while he was gazing at Sherlock Holmes.

“Please come with me,” said Holmes to the two detectives.

“I can drive you,” said Lestrade.

“Good! And Gregson can come inside. You too, Doctor.”

I assented gladly, and we all descended together. Our prisoner stepped calmly into the cab. Lestrade whipped up the horse, and brought us in a very short time to our destination. A police Inspector wrote down our prisoner’s name and the names of the murdered men.

“The prisoner will be put before the magistrates in the course of the week,” said the Inspector; “in the mean time, Mr. Jefferson Hope, have you anything to say? I must warn you that your words may be used against you.”

“Yes, I want to say something,” our prisoner said slowly. “I want to tell you gentlemen all about it.”

“Why not in the court?” asked the Inspector.

“I will die soon,” he answered. “Are you a doctor?” He turned his fierce dark eyes upon me.

“Yes; I am,” I answered.

“Then put your hand here,” he said, with a smile, and showed his chest.

I did so. I felt an extraordinary throbbing and commotion. The walls of his chest thrilled and quivered. In the silence of the room I heard a dull humming and buzzing noise.

“Oh,” I cried, “you have an aortic aneurism[63]!”

“That’s what they call it,” he said, placidly. “I went to a doctor last week. I got it in the Salt Lake Mountains. My work is finished. But I don’t want to be a common murderer.”

“Do you consider, doctor, that there is immediate danger?” asked the Inspector.

“Most certainly there is,” I answered.

“In that case, sir,” said the Inspector, “please, give your account.”

“I’ll sit down, with your permission,” said Jefferson Hope. “This aneurism of mine makes me easily tired. I’m dying and I do not want to lie to you. Every word I say is the absolute truth.”

With these words, Jefferson Hope leaned back in his chair and began. He spoke in a calm and methodical manner.

“It doesn’t much matter to you why I hated these men,” he said; “they were guilty of the death of two human beings-a father and a daughter. Therefore, they forfeited their own lives. A lot of time passed since their crime. It was impossible for me to secure a conviction against them in any court. I knew of their guilt though, and I was the judge, jury, and executioner.

It happened twenty years ago. I wanted to marry that girl. She was forced into marrying[64] that same Drebber, and she died. I took the marriage ring from her dead finger, and I wanted to show it to my enemies. Their crime must be punished. I was following Drebber and his accomplice over two continents. If I die tomorrow, I will die happily. My work in this world is done, and well done. There is nothing for me to hope for, or to desire.

They were rich and I was poor, so that it was not easy for me to follow them. When I got to London my pocket was empty, and I found some work. I can drive and ride, so I applied at a cabowner’s office, and soon got employment. The hardest job was to remember the streets, this city is very confusing.

I found out where my two gentlemen were living. They were at a boarding-house at Camberwell, on the other side of the river. I had my beard, nobody could recognize me. I was following them until I saw my opportunity. They could not escape me again.

Sometimes I followed them on my cab, and sometimes on foot, they could not get away from me. They were very cunning, though. They never went out alone, and never after nightfall. During two weeks I drove behind them every day, and never once saw them separate. Drebber himself was always drunk, but Stangerson was sober. I watched them late and early, but never saw the chance.

At last, one evening I was driving up and down Torquay Terrace, when I saw a cab next to their door. The cabman brought some luggage, and after a time Drebber and Stangerson followed it, and drove off. I feared that they were going away. At Euston Station they got out, and I left a boy to hold my horse, and followed them on to the platform. They asked for the Liverpool train. There was no a train for some hours.

Stangerson was angry, but Drebber was pleased. I came closer to them in the bustle. I could hear every word that passed between them. Drebber says that he has a little business to do. His companion remonstrates with him. Drebber answers that the matter is a delicate one, and that he must go alone. Drebber reminds Stangerson that he is nothing more than his servant, and that he must not dictate to him. So the Secretary simply tells him that if he misses the last train he can rejoin him at Halliday’s Private Hotel. Drebber says that he will be back on the platform before eleven, and goes away.

This was my moment! I had my enemies within my power. Together they protected each other, but singly they were at my mercy. My plans were already formed. The offender must realize why retribution comes upon him.

Some days before a gentleman was looking over some houses in the Brixton Road. He dropped the key of one of them in my carriage. I returned the key; but in the interval I made a duplicate. But how to get Drebber to that house? It was a difficult problem.

Drebber walked down the road and went into one or two liquor shops. He stayed for nearly half-an-hour in the last of them. When he came out he was evidently drunk. There was a hansom just in front of me, and he hailed it. I followed it. The nose of my horse was within a yard of his driver the whole way.

We rattled across the city until, to my astonishment, we found ourselves back in the Terrace in which he boarded. He entered it, and his hansom drove away. Give me a glass of water, please.”

I handed him the glass.

“That’s better,” he said. “Well, I waited for a quarter of an hour, or more, when suddenly there came a noise. Some people were struggling inside the house. Next moment the door opened and two men appeared, one of whom was Drebber, and the other was a young chap. This fellow had Drebber by the collar[65], and when they came to the head of the steps he gave him a shove and a kick.

‘You hound,’ he cried; ‘I’ll teach you to insult an honest girl!’

He wanted to thrash Drebber with his cudgel, but the coward staggered away down the road very fast. He saw my cab, hailed me and jumped in.

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

When I had him inside my cab, my heart jumped with joy. I drove along slowly. What to do? He solved the problem for me. He ordered me to stop near a gin palace[66]. He went in. When he came out he was completely drunk.

During my wandering life in America, I worked once at York College. One day the professor was lecturing on poisons, and he showed his students some alkaloid. He extracted it from some South American arrow poison. It was so powerful that the least grain meant instant death. After the lecture I took some poison. I worked this alkaloid into small, soluble pills, and each pill I put in a box with a similar pill made without the poison.

I was thinking like that. When I have my chance, my gentlemen each have a pill of these boxes, while I will eat the pill that remains. That will be our deadly game. So from that day I had always my pill boxes about with me.

It was near twelve, and a wild, bleak night. I lit a cigar, my hands were trembling. As I drove, I saw old John Ferrier and sweet Lucy in the darkness. I pulled up at the house in the Brixton Road.

There was nobody. When I looked in at the window, Drebber was sleeping. I shook him by the arm, ‘It’s time to get out,’ I said.

‘All right,’ said he.

I suppose he thought we were near the hotel. He got out without a word, and followed me down the garden. When we came to the door, I opened it, and led him into the front room. The father and the daughter were walking in front of us.

‘It’s infernally dark,’ said he.

‘We’ll soon have a light,’ I said. I took a wax candle. ‘Now, Enoch Drebber,’ I continued, ‘who am I?’

He gazed at me with drunken eyes for a moment, and then I saw a horror in them. He knew me. He staggered back with a livid face, and I saw the perspiration upon his brow. His teeth chattered. I laughed loud and long.

‘You dog!’ I said; ‘I hunted you everywhere, and you always escaped me. Now I got you.’

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

‘Do you remember Lucy Ferrier?’ I cried. I locked the door and shook the key in his face. ‘Punishment is coming.’

His coward lips trembled as I spoke.

‘Will you murder me?’ he stammered.

‘There is no murder,’ I answered. ‘Is it a murder to kill a mad dog? Do you remember my poor darling? You dragged her from her father, and bore her away to your accursed and shameless harem.’

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

‘But it was you who broke her innocent heart,’ I shrieked. I gave him the box. ‘Let the God judge between us. Choose and eat. There is death in one and life in the other. I shall take what you leave. Let us see if there is justice upon the earth.’

He prayed for mercy, but I drew my knife and held it to his throat. And he obeyed me. He ate the pill. Then I swallowed the other. Who will live and who will die? The first warning pangs told him that the poison was in him. I laughed as I saw it, and held Lucy’s marriage ring in front of his eyes. The action of the alkaloid is rapid. A spasm of pain; he threw his hands out in front of him, staggered, and then, with a hoarse cry, fell heavily upon the floor. I placed my hand upon his heart. There was no movement. He was dead!

The blood was streaming from my nose. And I wrote upon the wall with it. Perhaps it was some mischievous idea. One day a German was found in New York with RACHE written up above him. The newspapers were writing about the secret societies. What puzzled the New Yorkers will puzzle the Londoners. So I dipped my finger in my own blood and writhe the German word on the wall.

Then I walked down to my cab. I drove some distance. Then I put my hand into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy’s ring, and found that it was not there. It was the only memento that I had of her! I dropped it when I stooped over Drebber’s body. So I drove back, and left my cab in a side street. I went boldly up to the house. When I arrived there, I walked right into the arms of a police-officer. I pretended to be hopelessly drunk.

That was how Enoch Drebber came to his end. But Stangerson was still alive. I knew that he was staying at Halliday’s Private Hotel, and I waited there all day, but he never came out. I’m sure that that he suspected something. He was cunning, that Stangerson.

I soon found out which was the window of his bedroom, and early next morning I took a ladder which was lying in the lane behind the hotel. I woke him up. I described Drebber’s death to him, and I gave him the same choice of the poisoned pills. But he sprang from his bed and flew at my throat. I stabbed him to the heart.

I have little more to say. After that I was working for a day or so. Then I planned to come back to America. I was standing in the yard when a youngster asked if there was a cabman there called Jefferson Hope. He said that his cab was wanted by a gentleman at 221B, Baker Street. I went there, I suspected no harm. But this man here had the bracelets on my wrists. That’s my story, gentlemen. You may consider me to be a murderer; but I am an officer of justice as you are.”

The man’s narrative was really thrilling. Even the professional detectives were keenly interested in his story. When he finished we sat for some minutes in a stillness.

“I need a little more information,” Sherlock Holmes said at last. “Who was your accomplice who came for the ring?”

The prisoner winked at my friend jocosely.

“I can tell my secrets,” he said, “but I don’t get other people into trouble. I saw your advertisement. My friend volunteered to go and see. I think he did it smartly.”

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

“Now, gentlemen,” the Inspector remarked gravely, “the law is the law. On Thursday the prisoner will be brought before the magistrates, and your attendance will be required. Until then I will be responsible for him.”

He rang the bell, and a couple of warders led Jefferson off. My friend and I took a cab back to Baker Street.