THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND

One day in April Sherlock Holmes woke me up early in the morning. "What is it, Holmes?" I asked. "A client. She is waiting in the sitting-room." I quickly dressed and in a few minutes was ready 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 friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Please sit down near the fire, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I see that you are shivering."

"It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a low voice, sitting down by the fire. "What, then?"

"It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror." She raised her veil as she spoke. She was a wom­an of about thirty, her face was pale and her grey eyes restless and frightened like those of some hunted animal.

"You must not fear," said my friend. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. Just tell us what it is that worries you."

"Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have heard of you, Mr. Hoimes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. She gave me your address."

Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted. I

"Farintosh," said he. "Ah yes, I recall the case. 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. And now please tell us everything that may help us to form an opinion upon the matter."

"My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest but impoverished Saxon families in Eng­land, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran."

Holmes nodded his head.

"The name is familiar to me," said he.

"Seeing that he must earn his living, my stepfa­ther took a medical degree and went out to Cal­cutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. One day, however, in a fit of anger he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sen­tence. But 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, a young widow. 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 pounds 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.

"Soon after our return to England my mother died — she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident.

'Dr. Roylott 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, he shut himself up in his house and each time he came out, he got into, bitter 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. He has a passion for Indian animals. At this moment he has 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. She was only 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?"

"Yes. She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. We had an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we sometimes paid short visits at this lady's house. Julia went there at Christ­mas two years ago, and met there a young man, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and did not object to the marriage; but a fortnight before the day of the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion."

"Please tell us everything in detail," said Sher­lock Holmes.

"The house is very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor. 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. The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn.

"That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, but we knew that he had not gone to bed, 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. 'Why?' Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morn­ing heard a low, clear whistle. I cannot tell where it came from: perhaps from the next room, per­haps from the lawn.'

'No, I have never heard any whistle,' I said.

"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."

"I see. Pray go on with your story."

"I could not sleep that night. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows.

"Suddenly I heard the wild scream of a terrified woman. 1 knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, and rushed into the corridor.

"As I opened my door, I heard a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. I ran into the passage.

^uBy the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sis­ter appear in the door of her bedroom, her face white with terror, her hands stretched forward, her whole figure swaying to and fro. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment she fell to the ground. 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! and she pointed with her finger in the direction of the doctor's room.

"I called loudly for my stepfather, and he ran out of his room. 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. She died with­out recovering her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister."

"One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound?"

"Yes."

"And what conclusions did the coroner come to?"

"He investigated the case with great care, 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-fashsioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. 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."

"And what do you think your sister meant when she spoke about a band — a speckled band?"

"I have no idea."

Holmes shook his head like a man who is not satisfied.

"Pray go on with your narrative," said he.

'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, asked my hand in marriage.

"My stepfather did not object to our marriage, and we are to be married this spring.

"Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall was partly broken, so that I have had to move into the room in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my 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.

"J sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too frightened to go to bed again, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight 1 went down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite our house, and drove to the railway station, from where I came by train this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice."

"You have done wisely," said my friend.

There was a long silence, during which Holmes stared into the crackling fire.

"There are a thousand details," he said at last, "which I should like to know. We have not a mo­ment to lose. If we come to Stoke Moran to-day, will it be possible for us to see these rooms with­out the knowledge of your stepfather?"

"As it happens, he spoke of going to town today upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day."

"Excellent. You can expect us early in the after­noon. Won't you have breakfast with us?"

"No, I must go. I am very glad that I have told you my trouble. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon."

She dropped her thick black veil over her face and left the room.

We were sitting at breakfast and discussing the matter, when suddenly the door opened, and a huge man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and broad. A large, angry face, with a thousand wrin­kles, burned yellow with the sun, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set eyes, and his high, thin nose, gave him the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.

"Which of you is Holmes?" asked this man.

"My name, sir; but you have not introduced your­self," said my companion quietly.

"I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes. "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 it will be warmer," con­tinued my companion quietly.

"Ha! You don't want to answer," said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his cane. "I know you. I have heard of you before. You are Holmes."

My friend smiled.

"Holmes, the busybody!"

Holmes' 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 strong draught."

I will go when I have said what I want to 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! Keep yourself out of my way," he roared and went out of the room.

"He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "And now, Watson, I shall go to Doc­tors' Commons¹, 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.

"I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "In case of marriage each daughter gets a large part of the money left by their mother, so this scoundrel will have very little left. It is evident, therefore, that he has very strong motives to prevent the marriages. And now, Watson, we must j hurry, for this is very serious."

When we arrived at Stoke Moran, Miss Stones j was waiting for us.

"All has turned out splendidly," she said. Dr. Royllott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening."

'Very good," said Holmes. "Now, we must make the best use of our time, so take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine."

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 little room, with n low ceiling and a big fireplace. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. There were two small wicker-work chairs in the room. 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."

"Did your sister ask for it?"

"No, she never used it."

Holmes took the bell-rope in his hand and pulled it.

"Why, it doesn't work," said he.

"Doesn'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 the little opening for the ventilator."

"How very absurd! I never noticed that before. "

"Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. "There are one or two very strange things in this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, instead of outside the house. Very strange: bell-ropes, which do not ring, and ventilators which do not venti­late. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now go into the doctor's bedroom. "

Dr. Grimesby Roylott's room was larger than that of his stepdaughter, but there was not much furniture in it: a camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, an armchair beside the bed, a wood­en chair against the wail, a round table, and a large iron safe.

"What's in here?" asked Holmes, 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!" gi

He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of the safe.

"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 is too small for it, I think. 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 was tied so as to make a loop.

"What do you think 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?" said Holmes. "Ah, 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. And now, Miss Stoner, it is very important that you should abso­lutely follow my advice."

"I shall certainly do so."

"In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room. I believe that that is the village inn over there?" he asked pointing through the window.

"Yes, it's called the Crown."

"Very good. Will your windows be visible from there?"

"Certainly."

"You must stay in your room when your stepfa­ther comes back. Pretend that you have a head­ache. Then when you hear him go to bed, you must open the shutters of your window, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then go quietly into the I room which you used to occupy. 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. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returns and sees us, our journey will be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave."

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in get­ting a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our win­dow we could see Stoke Moran Manor House.

At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott return,

"You speak of danger, Holmes," I said. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than I.I saw nothing remarkable except the bell-rope,

and I confess, I cannot understand the purpose of it."

"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!"

"0h, yes, I did. You remember that in her state­ment Miss Stoner said that her sister could smell j Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that meant j that there must be an opening between the two 1 rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been mentioned at the coroner's inquiry. I decided that it was 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. Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?"

"No."

"It was fastened to the floor. Have you ever seen 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."

Holmes," I cried, I am beginning to see what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some horrible crime."

Night fell, and all was dark outside. We were waiting at the window. At the stroke of eleven a 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." '

A moment later we were out on the dark road. Making our way among the trees, we reached the house. We easily got into the bedroom through the open window.

"We must sit without light," whispered Holm­es into my ear. "He would see it through the ven­tilator."

I nodded.

"Do not fall asleep; your life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair."

I took out my revolver and put it on the corner of the table.

Holmes had brought a long thin cane, and he placed it upon the bed beside him. Near it he put a box of matches and a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

We were sitting for a long time. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the church clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently.

Suddenly there was a gleam of light up in the ventilator, and a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark- Ian tern. Half an hour passed. Then suddenly another sound was heard a very gentle sound, like the sound of steam coming from a kettle.

The moment that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-rope.

"Can you see it, Watson?" he cried. "Can you see it?" But I saw nothing. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror. He stopped lashing and was looking 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 grew up louder and louder, a hoarse cry of pain and fear and anger. Then there was silence.

"What can it mean?" I asked. "It means that it is all over," Holmes answered. "Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room."

He lit the lamp and we walked down the corridor. Twice he struck at the door of the doctor's bedroom without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and we entered.

On the table stood a dark-lantern throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was open. Beside this table, on the wood­en chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott. On his knees lay the dog-lash which we had noticed during the day. His head was thrown back and his eyes were fixed at the corner of the ceiling. Round his fore­head 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 a moment this strange band began to move, and there appeared from among the doctor's hair the squat head and neck of a snake.

"It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes, "the dead­liest snake in India. He died immediately. The schemer fell into the pit which he had dug for an­other. Let us throw this creature back into its den, and then we can take Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened."

As he spoke he took the dog-lash swiftly from the doctor's knees threw the loop round the snake's neck, pulled it from the dead man's head and, car­rying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed.

Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.

The next day we travelled back to London.

"My attention," said Sherlock Holmes as we were sitting in the train carriage, "was quickly drawn 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 fastened to the floor, made me suspect 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. The doctor had had an Eastern train­ing and knew that this form of poison could not be discovered by any chemical test. "Then I thought of the whistle.

"Of course he must call the snake back before the morning. Probably he had trained it, by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when he whistled.

"I had come to these conclusions before I en­tered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it in order to reach the ventilator.

"The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the dog-lash with the loop on it confirmed my sus­picions.

"The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was evidently caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe.

"You know the steps which I took in order to prove the matter. When we were sitting in the dark room, I heard the snake hiss, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it."

"With the result of driving it back through the ventilator."

"And also with the result of causing it to attack its master at the other side."

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