His Last Bow Part 1 (1/2)
His Last Bow
by Arthur Conan Doyle
The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge
1 The Singular Experience of Mr John Scott Eccles
I find it recorded in my notebook that it was a bleak and windy day towards the end of March in the year 1892 Holram while we sat at our lunch, and he had scribbled a reply He hts, for he stood in front of the fire afterwards with a thoughtful face, slance at the e Suddenly he turned upon me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes
”I suppose, Watson, we must look upon you as a rotesque'?”
”Strange--reested
He shook his head atestion of the tragic and the terrible If you cast your mind back to so-suffering public, you will recognize how often the grotesque has deepened into the criminal Think of that little affair of the red-headed h in the outset, and yet it ended in a desperate atterotesque affair of the five orange pips, which let straight to a murderous conspiracy The word puts me on the alert”
”Have you it there?” I asked
He read the telegrarotesque experience May I consult you?
”Scott Eccles, ”Post Office, Charing Cross”
”Man or woman?” I asked
”Oh, ram She would have come”
”Will you see him?”
”My dear Watson, you kno bored I have been since we locked up Colonel Carruthers Myitself to pieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built Life is commonplace, the papers are sterile; audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world Can you ask me, then, whether I am ready to look into any new problem, however trivial it may prove? But here, unless I am mistaken, is our client”
A measured step was heard upon the stairs, and a ray-whiskered and solemnly respectable person was ushered into the room His life history ritten in his heavy features and poold-riood citizen, orthodox and conventional to the last degree But so experience had disturbed his native co hair, his flushed, angry cheeks, and his flurried, excited ed instantly into his business
”I have had a ular and unpleasant experience, Mr Holmes,” said he ”Never in my life have I been placed in such a situation It is eous I must insist upon soer
”Pray sit down, Mr Scott Eccles,” said Hol voice ”May I ask, in the first place, why you came to me at all?”
”Well, sir, it did not appear to be a matter which concerned the police, and yet, when you have heard the facts, you must admit that I could not leave it where it was Private detectives are a class ho heard your name--”
”Quite so But, in the second place, why did you not colanced at his watch
”It is a quarter-past two,” he said ”Your telegralance at your toilet and attire without seeing that your disturbance dates fro”
Our client smoothed down his unbrushed hair and felt his unshaven chin
”You are right, Mr Hollad to get out of such a house But I have been running round ents, you know, and they said that Mr Garcia's rent was paid up all right and that everything was in order at Wisteria Lodge”
”Co ”You are likehis stories wrong end forehts and let me know, in their due sequence, exactly what those events are which have sent you out unbrushed and unkempt, with dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry, in search of advice and assistance”
Our client looked doith a rueful face at his own unconventional appearance
”I'm sure it must look very bad, Mr Hol has ever happened before But will tell you the whole queer business, and when I have done so you will adh to excuse me”
But his narrative was nipped in the bud There was a bustle outside, and Mrs Hudson opened the door to usher in two robust and official-looking individuals, one of ell known to us as Inspector Gregson of Scotland Yard, an energetic, gallant, and, within his limitations, a capable officer He shook hands with Holmes and introduced his comrade as Inspector Baynes, of the Surrey Constabulary
”We are hunting together, Mr Holmes, and our trail lay in this direction” He turned his bulldog eyes upon our visitor ”Are you Mr John Scott Eccles, of Popha you about all the ram, no doubt,” said Holmes
”Exactly, Mr Hol Cross Post-Office and came on here”
”But why do you follow me? What do you want?”
”We wish a statement, Mr Scott Eccles, as to the events which let up to the death last night of Mr Aloysius Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, near Esher”
Our client had sat up with staring eyes and every tinge of colour struck from his astonished face
”Dead? Did you say he was dead?”
”Yes, sir, he is dead”
”But how? An accident?”
”Murder, if ever there was one upon earth”
”Good God! This is awful! You don't mean--you don't mean that I am suspected?”
”A letter of yours was found in the dead man's pocket, and we know by it that you had planned to pass last night at his house”
”So I did”
”Oh, you did, did you?”
Out cason,” said Sherlock Holmes ”All you desire is a plain statement, is it not?”