Acorn User 10/AU_CD10.iso/Archived/Internet/Demos/Pluto/demo2/Docs_Examples_TWISTEDLIP

Text File | 1997-04-19 | 12.0 KB | 269 lines

               (Extracted from) "The Man with the Twisted Lip"


One night -- it was in June, 1889 -- 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.

`!4 "A patient!" `!0 said she. `!4 "You'll have to go out".

`!0 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.

`!3 "You will excuse my calling so late," `!0 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. `!3 "Oh, I'm in such trouble!" `!0 she
cried; `!3 "I do so want a little help".

`!4 "Why," `!0 said my wife, pulling up her veil, `!4 "it is Kate Whitney. How you
startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in".

`!3 "I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to `you". `!0 That was always
the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a
`light-house.

`!4 "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"?

`!3 "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!"

`!0 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?

************


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.

`!6"My God! It's Watson, `!0" said he. He was in a pitiable state of reaction,
with every nerve in a twitter. `!6"I say, Watson, what o'clock is it"?

`!0"Nearly eleven".

`!6"Of what day"?

`!0"Of Friday, June 19th".

`!6"Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It `is Wednesday. What d'you
want to frighten the chap for"? `!0 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!"

`!6 "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"?

`!0 "Yes, I have one waiting".

`!6 "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".

`!0 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 shirt, and a low voice
whispered, `!9 "Walk past me, and then look back at me". `!0 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"?

`!9 "As low as you `can," `!0 he answered; `!9 "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.'

`!0 "I have a cab outside".

`!9 "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".

`!0 It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes's 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.

*******************

`!9 "Who is on duty"? `!0 asked Holmes.

`!8 "Inspector Bradstreet, sir".

`!9 "Ah, Bradstreet, how are you"? `!0 A tall, stout official had come down the
stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. `!9 "I wish to
have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet". `!8 "Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step
into my room here". `!0 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.

`!8 "What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes"?

`!9 "I called about that beggarman, Boone -- the one who was charged with
being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee".

`!8 "Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries".

`!9 "So I heard. You have him here"?

`!8 "In the cells".

`!9 "Is he quiet"?

`!8 "Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel".

`!9 "Dirty"?

`!8 "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".

`!9 "I should like to see him very much".

`!8 "`Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your bag".

`!9 "No, I think that I'll take it".

`!8 "Very good. Come this way, if you please". `!0 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.

`!8 "The third on the right is his," `!0 said the inspector. `!8 "Here it is!" `!0 He
quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced
through.

`!8 "He is asleep," `!0 said he. `!8 "You can see him very well".

`!0 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.

`!8 "He's a beauty, isn't he"? `!0 said the inspector.

`!9 "He certainly needs a wash," `!0 remarked Holmes. `!9 "I had an idea that he
might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me". `!0 He opened
the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very
large bath-sponge.

`!8 "He! he! You are a funny one," `!0 chuckled the inspector.

`!9 "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".

`!8 "Well, I don't know why not," `!0 said the inspector. `!8 "He doesn't look a
credit to the Bow Street cells, does he"? `!0 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 waterjug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously
across and down the prisoner's face.

`!9 "Let me introduce you," `!0 he shouted, `!9 "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee,
in the county of Kent".

`!0 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 realizing the exposure, he broke into a scream and threw
himself down with his face to the pillow.

`!8 "Great heavens!" `!0 cried the inspector, `!8 "it is, indeed, the missing man. I
know him from the photograph".

`!0 The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself
to his destiny. `!6 "Be it so," `!0 said he. `!6 "And pray what am I charged with"?

`!8 "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," `!0 said the
inspector with a grin. `!8 "Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the
force, but this really takes the cake".

`!6 "If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has
been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained".

`!9 "No crime, but a very great error has been committed," `!0 said Holmes. `!9 "You
would have done better to have trusted your wife".

`!6 "It was not the wife; it was the children," `!0 groaned the prisoner. `!6 "God
help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What an
exposure! What can I do"?

`!0 Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly
on the shoulder.

`!9 "If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," `!0 said he, `!9 "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".

`!6 "God bless you!" `!0 cried the prisoner passionately. `!6 "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.