                      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 gray, 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 gray,
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 L1000 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 gypsies, 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 gypsies 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 recognized 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 gypsies 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 gypsies 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 gypsies 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 gypsies 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 L1100, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more
than L750.  Each daughter can claim an income of L250, 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 gray 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 gray, 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
stepdaughter, 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.  "Hello!  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 vise 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's 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
gray 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 gypsies, 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."
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