The Dying Detective

Arthur Conan Doyle

Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of Sherlock Holmes, was a long-suffering woman. Not only was her first-floor flat invaded at all hours by throngs of singular and often undesirable characters but her remarkable lodger showed an eccentricity and irregularity in his life which must have sorely tried her patience. His incredible untidiness, his addiction to music at strange hours, his occasional revolver practice within doors, his weird and often malodorous scientific experiments, and the atmosphere of violence and danger which hung around him made him the very worst tenant in London. On the other hand, his payments were princely. I have no doubt that the house might have been purchased at the price which Holmes paid for his rooms during the years that I was with him.

The landlady stood in the deepest awe of him and never dared to interfere with him, however outrageous his proceedings might seem. She was fond of him, too, for he had a remarkable gentleness and courtesy in his dealings with women. He disliked and distrusted the sex, but he was always a chivalrous opponent. Knowing how genuine was her regard for him, I listened earnestly to her story when she came to my rooms in the second year of my married life and told me of the sad condition to which my poor friend was reduced.

“He's dying, Dr. Watson,” said she. “For three days he has been sinking, and I doubt if he will last the day. He would not let me get a doctor. This morning when I saw his bones sticking out of his face and his great bright eyes looking at me I could stand no more of it. ‘With your leave or without it, Mr. Holmes, I am going for a doctor this very hour,’ said I. ‘Let it be Watson, then,’ said he. I wouldn't waste an hour in coming to him, sir, or you may not see him alive.”

I was horrified for I had heard nothing of his illness. I need not say that I rushed for my coat and my hat. As we drove back I asked for the details.

“There is little I can tell you, sir. He has been working at a case down at Rotherhithe, in an alley near the river, and he has brought this illness back with him. He took to his bed on Wednesday afternoon and has never moved since. For these three days neither food nor drink has passed his lips.”

“Good God! Why did you not call in a doctor?”

“He wouldn't have it, sir. You know how masterful he is. I didn't dare to disobey him. But he's not long for this world, as you'll see for yourself the moment that you set eyes on him.”

He was indeed a deplorable spectacle. In the dim light of a foggy November day the sick room was a gloomy spot, but it was that gaunt, wasted face staring at me from the bed which sent a chill to my heart. His eyes had the brightness of fever, there was a hectic flush upon either cheek, and dark crusts clung to his lips; the thin hands upon the coverlet twitched incessantly, his voice was croaking and spasmodic. He lay listlessly as I entered the room, but the sight of me brought a gleam of recognition to his eyes.

“Well, Watson, we seem to have fallen upon evil days,” said he in a feeble voice, but with something of his old carelessness of manner.

“My dear fellow!” I cried, approaching him.

“Stand back! Stand right back!” said he with the sharp imperiousness which I had associated only with moments of crisis. “If you approach me, Watson, I shall order you out of the house.”

“But why?”

“Because it is my desire. Is that not enough?”

Yes, Mrs. Hudson was right. He was more masterful than ever. It was pitiful, however, to see his exhaustion.

“I only wished to help,” I explained.

“Exactly! You will help best by doing what you are told.”

“Certainly, Holmes.”

He relaxed the austerity of his manner.

“You are not angry?” he asked, gasping for breath.

Poor devil, how could I be angry when I saw him lying in such a plight before me?

“It's for your own sake, Watson,” he croaked.

“For my sake?”

“I know what is the matter with me. It is a coolie disease from Sumatra—a thing that the Dutch know more about than we, though they have made little of it up to date. One thing only is certain. It is infallibly deadly, and it is horribly contagious.”

He spoke now with a feverish energy, the long hands twitching and jerking as he motioned me away.

“Contagious by touch, Watson—that's it, by touch. Keep your distance and all is well.”

“Good heavens, Holmes! Do you suppose that such a consideration weighs with me of an instant? It would not affect me in the case of a stranger. Do you imagine it would prevent me from doing my duty to so old a friend?”

Again I advanced, but he repulsed me with a look of furious anger.

“If you will stand there I will talk. If you do not you must leave the room.”

I have so deep a respect for the extraordinary qualities of Holmes that I have always deferred to his wishes, even when I least understood them. But now all my professional instincts were aroused. Let him be my master elsewhere, I at least was his in a sick room.

“Holmes,” said I, “you are not yourself. A sick man is but a child, and so I will treat you. Whether you like it or not, I will examine your symptoms and treat you for them.”

He looked at me with venomous eyes.

“If I am to have a doctor whether I will or not, let me at least have someone in whom I have confidence,” said he.

“Then you have none in me?”

“In your friendship, certainly. But facts are facts, Watson, and, after all, you are only a general practitioner with very limited experience and mediocre qualifications. It is painful to have to say these things, but you leave me no choice.”

I was bitterly hurt.

“Such a remark is unworthy of you, Holmes. It shows me very clearly the state of your own nerves. But if you have no confidence in me I would not intrude my services. Let me bring Sir Jasper Meek or Penrose Fisher, or any of the best men in London. But someone you must have, and that is final. If you think that I am going to stand here and see you die without either helping you myself or bringing anyone else to help you, then you have mistaken your man.”

“You mean well, Watson,” said the sick man with something between a sob and a groan. “Shall I demonstrate your own ignorance? What do you know, pray, of Tapanuli fever? What do you know of the black Formosa corruption?”

“I have never heard of either.”

“There are many problems of disease, many strange pathological possibilities, in the East, Watson.” He paused after each sentence to collect his failing strength. “I have learned so much during some recent researches which have a medico-criminal aspect. It was in the course of them that I contracted this complaint. You can do nothing.”

“Possibly not. But I happen to know that Dr. Ainstree, the greatest living authority upon tropical disease, is now in London. All remonstrance is useless, Holmes, I am going this instant to fetch him.” I turned resolutely to the door.

Never have I had such a shock! In an instant, with a tiger-spring, the dying man had intercepted me. I heard the sharp snap of a twisted key. The next moment he had staggered back to his bed, exhausted and panting after his one tremendous outflame of energy.

“You won't take the key from be by force, Watson, I've got you, my friend. Here you are, and here you will stay until I will otherwise. But I'll humour you.” (All this in little gasps, with terrible struggles for breath between.) “You've only my own good at heart. Of course I know that very well. You shall have your way, but give me time to get my strength. Not now, Watson, not now. It's four o'clock. At six you can go.”

“This is insanity, Holmes.”

“Only two hours, Watson. I promise you will go at six. Are you content to wait?”

“I seem to have no choice.”

“None in the world, Watson. Thank you, I need no help in arranging the clothes. You will please keep your distance. Now, Watson, there is one other condition that I would make. You will seek help, not from the man you mention, but from the one that I choose.”

“By all means.”

“The first three sensible words that you have uttered since you entered this room, Watson. You will find some books over there. I am somewhat exhausted; I wonder how a battery feels when it pours electricity into a non-conductor? At six, Watson, we resume our conversation.”

But it was destined to be resumed long before that hour, and in circumstances which gave me a shock hardly second to that caused by his spring to the door. I had stood for some minutes looking at the silent figure in the bed. His face was almost covered by the clothes and he appeared to be asleep. Then, unable to settle down to reading, I walked slowly round the room, examining the pictures of celebrated criminals with which every wall was adorned. Finally, in my aimless perambulation, I came to the mantelpiece. A litter of pipes, tobacco-pouches, syringes, penknives, revolver-cartridges, and other debris was scattered over it. In the midst of these was a small black and white ivory box with a sliding lid. It was a neat little thing, and I had stretched out my hand to examine it more closely when—

It was a dreadful cry that he gave—a yell which might have been heard down the street. My skin went cold and my hair bristled at that horrible scream. As I turned I caught a glimpse of a convulsed face and frantic eyes. I stood paralyzed, with the little box in my hand.

“Put it down! Down, this instant, Watson—this instant, I say!” His head sank back upon the pillow and he gave a deep sigh of relief as I replaced the box upon the mantelpiece. “I hate to have my things touched, Watson. You know that I hate it. You fidget me beyond endurance. You, a doctor—you are enough to drive a patient into an asylum. Sit down, man, and let me have my rest!”

The incident left a most unpleasant impression upon my mind. The violent and causeless excitement, followed by this brutality of speech, so far removed from his usual suavity, showed me how deep was the disorganization of his mind. Of all ruins, that of a noble mind is the most deplorable. I sat in silent dejection until the stipulated time had passed. He seemed to have been watching the clock as well as I, for it was hardly six before he began to talk with the same feverish animation as before.

“Now, Watson,” said he. “Have you any change in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

“Any silver?”

“A good deal.”

“How many half-crowns?”

“I have five.”

“Ah, too few! Too few! How very unfortunate, Watson! However, such as they are you can put them in your watchpocket. And all the rest of your money in your left trouser pocket. Thank you. It will balance you so much better like that.”

This was raving insanity. He shuddered, and again made a sound between a cough and a sob.

“You will now light the gas, Watson, but you will be very careful that not for one instant shall it be more than half on. I implore you to be careful, Watson. Thank you, that is excellent. No, you need not draw the blind. Now you will have the kindness to place some letters and papers upon this table within my reach. Thank you. Now some of that litter from the mantelpiece. Excellent, Watson! There is a sugar-tongs there. Kindly raise that small ivory box with its assistance. Place it here among the papers. Good! You can now go and fetch Mr. Culverton Smith, of 13 Lower Burke Street.”

To tell the truth, my desire to fetch a doctor had somewhat weakened, for poor Holmes was so obviously delirious that it seemed dangerous to leave him. However, he was as eager now to consult the person named as he had been obstinate in refusing.

“I never heard the name,” said I.

“Possibly not, my good Watson. It may surprise you to know that the man upon earth who is best versed in this disease is not a medical man, but a planter. Mr. Culverton Smith is a well-known resident of Sumatra, now visiting London. An outbreak of the disease upon his plantation, which was distant from medical aid, caused him to study it himself, with some rather far-reaching consequences. He is a very methodical person, and I did not desire you to start before six, because I was well aware that you would not find him in his study. If you could persuade him to come here and give us the benefit of his unique experience of this disease, the investigation of which has been his dearest hobby, I cannot doubt that he could help me.”

I gave Holmes's remarks as a consecutive whole and will not attempt to indicate how they were interrupted by gaspings for breath and those clutchings of his hands which indicated the pain from which he was suffering. His appearance had changed for the worse during the few hours that I had been with him. Those hectic spots were more pronounced, the eyes shone more brightly out of darker hollows, and a cold sweat glimmered upon his brow. He still retained, however, the jaunty gallantry of his speech. To the last gasp he would always be the master.

“You will tell him exactly how you have left me,” said he. “You will convey the very impression which is in your own mind—a dying man—a dying and delirious man. Indeed, I cannot think why the whole bed of the ocean is not one solid mass of oysters, so prolific the creatures seem. Ah, I am wondering! Strange how the brain controls the brain! What was I saying, Watson?”

“My directions for Mr. Culverton Smith.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. My life depends upon it. Plead with him, Watson. There is no good feeling between us. His nephew, Watson—I had suspicions of foul play and I allowed him to see it. The boy died horribly. He has a grudge against me. You will soften him, Watson. Beg him, pray him, get him here by any means. He can save me—only he!”

“I will bring him in a cab, if I have to carry him down to it.”

“You will do nothing of the sort. You will persuade him to come. And then you will return in front of him. Make any excuse so as not to come with him. Don't forget, Watson. You won't fail me. You never did fail me. No doubt there are natural enemies which limit the increase of the creatures. You and I, Watson, we have done our part. Shall the world, then, be overrun by oysters? No, no; horrible! You'll convey all that is in your mind.”

I left him full of the image of this magnificent intellect babbling like a foolish child. He had handed me the key, and with a happy thought I took it with me lest he should lock himself in. Mrs. Hudson was waiting, trembling and weeping, in the passage. Behind me as I passed from the flat I heard Holmes's high, thin voice in some delirious chant. Below, as I stood whistling for a cab, a man came on me through the fog.

“How is Mr. Holmes, sir?” he asked.

It was an old acquaintance, Inspector Morton, of Scotland Yard, dressed in unofficial tweeds.

“He is very ill,” I answered.

He looked at me in a most singular fashion. Had it not been too fiendish, I could have imagined that the gleam of the fanlight showed exultation in his face.

“I heard some rumour of it,” said he.

The cab had driven up, and I left him.

Lower Burke Street proved to be a line of fine houses lying in the vague borderland between Notting Hill and Kensington. The particular one at which my cabman pulled up had an air of smug and demure respectability in its old-fashioned iron railings, its massive folding-door, and its shining brasswork. All was in keeping with a solemn butler who appeared framed in the pink radiance of a tinted electrical light behind him.

“Yes, Mr. Culverton Smith is in. Dr. Watson! Very good, sir, I will take up your card.”

My humble name and title did not appear to impress Mr. Culverton Smith. Through the half-open door I heard a high, petulant, penetrating voice.

“Who is this person? What does he want? Dear me, Staples, how often have I said that I am not to be disturbed in my hours of study?”

There came a gentle flow of soothing explanation from the butler.

“Well, I won't see him, Staples. I can't have my work interrupted like this. I am not at home. Say so. Tell him to come in the morning if he really must see me.”

Again the gentle murmur.

“Well, well, give him that message. He can come in the morning, or he can stay away. My work must not be hindered.”

I thought of Holmes tossing upon his bed of sickness and counting the minutes, perhaps, until I could bring help to him. It was not a time to stand upon ceremony. His life depended upon my promptness. Before the apologetic butler had delivered his message I had pushed past him and was in the room.

With a shrill cry of anger a man rose from a reclining chair beside the fire. I saw a great yellow face, coarse-grained and greasy, with heavy, double-chin, and two sullen, menacing gray eyes which glared at me from under tufted and sandy brows. A high bald head had a small velvet smoking-cap poised coquettishly upon one side of its pink curve. The skull was of enormous capacity, and yet as I looked down I saw to my amazement that the figure of the man was small and frail, twisted in the shoulders and back like one who has suffered from rickets in his childhood.

“What's this?” he cried in a high, screaming voice. “What is the meaning of this intrusion? Didn't I send you word that I would see you to-morrow morning?”

“I am sorry,” said I, “but the matter cannot be delayed. Mr. Sherlock Holmes—”

The mention of my friend's name had an extraordinary effect upon the little man. The look of anger passed in an instant from his face. His features became tense and alert.

“Have you come from Holmes?” he asked.

“I have just left him.”

“What about Holmes? How is he?”

“He is desperately ill. That is why I have come.”

The man motioned me to a chair, and turned to resume his own. As he did so I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror over the mantelpiece. I could have sworn that it was set in a malicious and abominable smile. Yet I persuaded myself that it must have been some nervous contraction which I had surprised, for he turned to me an instant later with genuine concern upon his features.

“I am sorry to hear this,” said he. “I only know Mr. Holmes through some business dealings which we have had, but I have every respect for his talents and his character. He is an amateur of crime, as I am of disease. For him the villain, for me the microbe. There are my prisons,” he continued, pointing to a row of bottles and jars which stood upon a side table. "Among those gelatine cultivations some of the very worst offenders in the world are now doing time."

“It was on account of your special knowledge that Mr. Holmes desired to see you. He has a high opinion of you and thought that you were the one man in London who could help him.”

The little man started, and the jaunty smoking-cap slid to the floor.

“Why?” he asked. “Why should Mr. Homes think that I could help him in his trouble?”

“Because of your knowledge of Eastern diseases.”

“But why should he think that this disease which he has contracted is Eastern?”

“Because, in some professional inquiry, he has been working among Chinese sailors down in the docks.”

Mr. Culverton Smith smiled pleasantly and picked up his smoking-cap.

“Oh, that's it—is it?” said he. “I trust the matter is not so grave as you suppose. How long has he been ill?”

“About three days.”

“Is he delirious?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tut, tut! This sounds serious. It would be inhuman not to answer his call. I very much resent any interruption to my work, Dr. Watson, but this case is certainly exceptional. I will come with you at once.”

I remembered Holmes's injunction.

“I have another appointment,” said I.

“Very good. I will go alone. I have a note of Mr. Holmes's address. You can rely upon my being there within half an hour at most.”

It was with a sinking heart that I reentered Holmes's bedroom. For all that I knew the worst might have happened in my absence. To my enormous relief, he had improved greatly in the interval. His appearance was as ghastly as ever, but all trace of delirium had left him and he spoke in a feeble voice, it is true, but with even more than his usual crispness and lucidity.

“Well, did you see him, Watson?”

“Yes; he is coming.”

“Admirable, Watson! Admirable! You are the best of messengers.”

“He wished to return with me.”

“That would never do, Watson. That would be obviously impossible. Did he ask what ailed me?”

“I told him about the Chinese in the East End.”

“Exactly! Well, Watson, you have done all that a good friend could. You can now disappear from the scene.”

“I must wait and hear his opinion, Holmes.”

“Of course you must. But I have reasons to suppose that this opinion would be very much more frank and valuable if he imagines that we are alone. There is just room behind the head of my bed, Watson.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“I fear there is no alternative, Watson. The room does not lend itself to concealment, which is as well, as it is the less likely to arouse suspicion. But just there, Watson, I fancy that it could be done.” Suddenly he sat up with a rigid intentness upon his haggard face. “There are the wheels, Watson. Quick, man, if you love me! And don't budge, whatever happens—whatever happens, do you hear? Don't speak! Don't move! Just listen with all your ears.” Then in an instant his sudden access of strength departed, and his masterful, purposeful talk droned away into the low, vague murmurings of a semi-delirious man.

From the hiding-place into which I had been so swiftly hustled I heard the footfalls upon the stair, with the opening and the closing of the bedroom door. Then, to my surprise, there came a long silence, broken only by the heavy breathings and gaspings of the sick man. I could imagine that our visitor was standing by the bedside and looking down at the sufferer. At last that strange hush was broken.

“Holmes!” he cried. “Holmes!” in the insistent tone of one who awakens a sleeper. "Can't you hear me, Holmes?" There was a rustling, as if he had shaken the sick man roughly by the shoulder.

“Is that you, Mr. Smith?” Holmes whispered. “I hardly dared hope that you would come.”

The other laughed.

“I should imagine not,” he said. “And yet, you see, I am here. Coals of fire, Holmes—coals of fire!”

“It is very good of you—very noble of you. I appreciate your special knowledge.”

Our visitor sniggered.

“You do. You are, fortunately, the only man in London who does. Do you know what is the matter with you?”

“The same,” said Holmes.

“Ah! You recognize the symptoms?”

“Only too well.”

“Well, I shouldn't be surprised, Holmes. I shouldn't be surprised if it were the same. A bad lookout for you if it is. Poor Victor was a dead man on the fourth day—a strong, hearty young fellow. It was certainly, as you said, very surprising that he should have contracted and out-of-the-way Asiatic disease in the heart of London—a disease, too, of which I had made such a very special study. Singular coincidence, Holmes. Very smart of you to notice it, but rather uncharitable to suggest that it was cause and effect.”

“I knew that you did it.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Well, you couldn't prove it, anyhow. But what do you think of yourself spreading reports about me like that, and then crawling to me for help the moment you are in trouble? What sort of a game is that—eh?”

I heard the rasping, laboured breathing of the sick man. “Give me the water!” he gasped.

“You're precious near your end, my friend, but I don't want you to go till I have had a word with you. That's why I give you water. There, don't slop it about! That's right. Can you understand what I say?”

Holmes groaned.

“Do what you can for me. Let bygones be bygones,” he whispered. “I'll put the words out of my head—I swear I will. Only cure me, and I'll forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“Well, about Victor Savage's death. You as good as admitted just now that you had done it. I'll forget it.”

“You can forget it or remember it, just as you like. I don't see you in the witnessbox. Quite another shaped box, my good Holmes, I assure you. It matters nothing to me that you should know how my nephew died. It's not him we are talking about. It's you.”

“Yes, yes.”

“The fellow who came for me—I've forgotten his name—said that you contracted it down in the East End among the sailors.”

“I could only account for it so.”

“You are proud of your brains, Holmes, are you not? Think yourself smart, don't you? You came across someone who was smarter this time. Now cast your mind back, Holmes. Can you think of no other way you could have got this thing?”

“I can't think. My mind is gone. For heaven's sake help me!”

“Yes, I will help you. I'll help you to understand just where you are and how you got there. I'd like you to know before you die.”

“Give me something to ease my pain.”

“Painful, is it? Yes, the coolies used to do some squealing towards the end. Takes you as cramp, I fancy.”

“Yes, yes; it is cramp.”

“Well, you can hear what I say, anyhow. Listen now! Can you remember any unusual incident in your life just about the time your symptoms began?”

“No, no; nothing.”

“Think again.”

“I'm too ill to think.”

“Well, then, I'll help you. Did anything come by post?”

“By post?”

“A box by chance?”

“I'm fainting—I'm gone!”

“Listen, Holmes!” There was a sound as if he was shaking the dying man, and it was all that I could do to hold myself quiet in my hiding-place. “You must hear me. You shall hear me. Do you remember a box—an ivory box? It came on Wednesday. You opened it—do you remember?”

“Yes, yes, I opened it. There was a sharp spring inside it. Some joke—”

“It was no joke, as you will find to your cost. You fool, you would have it and you have got it. Who asked you to cross my path? If you had left me alone I would not have hurt you.”

“I remember,” Holmes gasped. “The spring! It drew blood. This box—this on the table.”

“The very one, by George! And it may as well leave the room in my pocket. There goes your last shred of evidence. But you have the truth now, Holmes, and you can die with the knowledge that I killed you. You knew too much of the fate of Victor Savage, so I have sent you to share it. You are very near your end, Holmes. I will sit here and I will watch you die.”

Holmes's voice had sunk to an almost inaudible whisper.

“What is that?” said Smith. “Turn up the gas? Ah, the shadows begin to fall, do they? Yes, I will turn it up, that I may see you the better.” He crossed the room and the light suddenly brightened. "Is there any other little service that I can do you, my friend?"

“A match and a cigarette.”

I nearly called out in my joy and my amazement. He was speaking in his natural voice—a little weak, perhaps, but the very voice I knew. There was a long pause, and I felt that Culverton Smith was standing in silent amazement looking down at his companion.

“What's the meaning of this?” I heard him say at last in a dry, rasping tone.

“The best way of successfully acting a part is to be it,” said Holmes. “I give you my word that for three days I have tasted neither food nor drink until you were good enough to pour me out that glass of water. But it is the tobacco which I find most irksome. Ah, here are some cigarettes.” I heard the striking of a match. "That is very much better. Halloa! halloa! Do I hear the step of a friend?"

There were footfalls outside, the door opened, and Inspector Morton appeared.

“All is in order and this is your man,” said Holmes.

The officer gave the usual cautions.

“I arrest you on the charge of the murder of one Victor Savage,” he concluded.

“And you might add of the attempted murder of one Sherlock Holmes,” remarked my friend with a chuckle. “To save an invalid trouble, Inspector, Mr. Culverton Smith was good enough to give our signal by turning up the gas. By the way, the prisoner has a small box in the right-hand pocket of his coat which it would be as well to remove. Thank you. I would handle it gingerly if I were you. Put it down here. It may play its part in the trial.”

There was a sudden rush and a scuffle, followed by the clash of iron and a cry of pain.

“You'll only get yourself hurt,” said the inspector. “Stand still, will you?” There was the click of the closing handcuffs.

“A nice trap!” cried the high, snarling voice. “It will bring you into the dock, Holmes, not me. He asked me to come here to cure him. I was sorry for him and I came. Now he will pretend, no doubt, that I have said anything which he may invent which will corroborate his insane suspicions. You can lie as you like, Holmes. My word is always as good as yours.”

“Good heavens!” cried Holmes. “I had totally forgotten him. My dear Watson, I owe you a thousand apologies. To think that I should have overlooked you! I need not introduce you to Mr. Culverton Smith, since I understand that you met somewhat earlier in the evening. Have you the cab below? I will follow you when I am dressed, for I may be of some use at the station.

“I never needed it more,” said Holmes as he refreshed himself with a glass of claret and some biscuits in the intervals of his toilet. “However, as you know, my habits are irregular, and such a feat means less to me than to most men. It was very essential that I should impress Mrs. Hudson with the reality of my condition, since she was to convey it to you, and you in turn to him. You won't be offended, Watson? You will realize that among your many talents dissimulation finds no place, and that if you had shared my secret you would never have been able to impress Smith with the urgent necessity of his presence, which was the vital point of the whole scheme. Knowing his vindictive nature, I was perfectly certain that he would come to look upon his handiwork.”

“But your appearance, Holmes—your ghastly face?”

“Three days of absolute fast does not improve one's beauty, Watson. For the rest, there is nothing which a sponge may not cure. With vaseline upon one's forehead, belladonna in one's eyes, rouge over the cheek-bones, and crusts of beeswax round one's lips, a very satisfying effect can be produced. Malingering is a subject upon which I have sometimes thought of writing a monograph. A little occasional talk about half-crowns, oysters, or any other extraneous subject produces a pleasing effect of delirium.”

“But why would you not let me near you, since there was in truth no infection?”

“Can you ask, my dear Watson? Do you imagine that I have no respect for your medical talents? Could I fancy that your astute judgment would pass a dying man who, however weak, had no rise of pulse or temperature? At four yards, I could deceive you. If I failed to do so, who would bring my Smith within my grasp? No, Watson, I would not touch that box. You can just see if you look at it sideways where the sharp spring like a viper's tooth emerges as you open it. I dare say it was by some such device that poor Savage, who stood between this monster and a reversion, was done to death. My correspondence, however, is, as you know, a varied one, and I am somewhat upon my guard against any packages which reach me. It was clear to me, however, that by pretending that he had really succeeded in his design I might surprise a confession. That pretence I have carried out with the thoroughness of the true artist. Thank you, Watson, you must help me on with my coat. When we have finished at the police-station I think that something nutritious at Simpson's would not be out of place.”

临终的侦探

歇洛克·福尔摩斯的女房东赫德森太太，长期以来吃了不少苦头。不仅是她的二楼成天有奇异的而且往往是不受人欢迎的客人光临，就连她的那位著名的房客的生活也是怪癖而没有规律的，这就使她的耐心受到了严重的考验。他邋遢得令人难以置信：喜欢在奇怪的钟点听音乐；不时在室内练一习一槍法；进行古怪的时常发出恶臭的科学实验以及充满在他周围的暴力和危险的气氛，这些使他成为全伦敦最为糟糕的房客。可是，他出的房钱却很高。毫无疑问，我和福尔摩斯在一起住的那几年，他所付的租金足可以购买这座住宅了。

房东太太非常畏惧他，不论他的举动多么令人难以容忍，从来不敢去干涉他。她也喜欢他，因为他对待妇女非常一温一文有礼。他不喜欢也不信任女一性一，可是他永远是一个骑士气概的反对者。由于我知道她是真心地关心着他，所以在我婚后的第二年，当房东太太来到我家告诉我我那可怜的朋友所处的悲惨困境时，我认真地听了她讲的事。

“他快要死啦，华生医生，"她说，“他已经重病三天了，怕活不过今天啦。他不准我请医生。今天早上，我看他的两边颧骨都凸出来了，两只大眼睛看着我，我再也受不了啦。‘你肯也好，不肯也好，福尔摩斯先生，我这就去叫医生来，我说。那就叫华生来吧，他说。为了救他，不能一浪一费时间，先生，要不，在他还有一口气的时候，你就见不到他了。”

我吓了一跳。我没听说他生病的事。没再说什么，我赶忙穿衣戴帽。一路上，我叫她把详细情况告诉我。

“要说的也不多，先生。他一直在罗塞海特研究一种什么病，是在河边一条小一胡一同里。他回来了，把这病也带回来了。星期三下午躺到一床一上后，一直就没有走动过。三天了，没吃没喝。”

“天哪！你怎么不请医生？”

“他不要，先生。他那个专横劲儿，你是知道的。我不敢不听他的。他在这世上不会长了。你一看到他，你自己就会明白的。”

他的样子确实凄惨。这是十一月，有雾，在昏暗的光线下，小小的病房一陰一沉沉的。但是使我的心直打寒战的，是病一床一上那张望着我的消瘦而干瘪的脸。因为发烧，他的眼睛发红，两颊绯红，嘴唇上结了一层黑皮。放在一床一单上的两只手在不停地一抽一搐，声音喑哑而且急切。我走进房时，他有气无力地躺着。见到我，眼里闪露着认出了我的神色。

“唉，华生，看来我们遇上了不吉利的日子啦，"他说话的声音微弱，但还是有点原有的满不在乎的味道。

“我亲一爱一的伙伴！"我喊道，向他走去。

“站开！快站开！"他说道。那种紧张的神态只能使我联想到危险的时刻。"你要是走近我，华生，我就命令你出去。”

“为什么？”

“因为，我要这样。这还不够吗？”

对。赫德森太太说得对。他比以往任何时候都更加专横。可是眼看他一精一疲力竭又使人怜悯。

“我只是想帮助你，"我解释道。

“对极了，叫你怎么做你就怎么做，就是最好的帮助。”

“当然，福尔摩斯。”

他那严厉的态度缓和了。

“你没生气吧？"他喘着气问我。

可怜的人哪，躺在一床一上这么受罪，我怎么会生气呢？

“这样做是为了你本人的缘故，华生，"他声音嘶哑地说道。

“为了我？”

“我知道我是怎么了。我害了从苏门答腊传来的一种苦力病。这种病，荷兰人比我们清楚，虽然他们至今也束手无策。只有一点是肯定的，这是一种致命的疾病，非常容易传染。”

他讲话有气无力，象是在发高烧，两只大手一边一抽一搐一边挥动着，叫我走开。

“接触了会传染的，华生——对，接触。你站远些就没事了。”

“天哪，福尔摩斯！你以为这样说就能一下子拦住我吗？即使是不认识的人也阻拦不住我。你以为这样就可以叫我对我的老朋友放弃我的职责吗？”

我又往前走去，但是他喝住了我，显然是发火了。

“如果你站住，我就对你讲。否则，你就离开这房间。”

我对福尔摩斯的崇高气质极为尊重，我总是听他的话，哪怕我并不理解。可是，现在我的职业本能激发了我。别的事，可以由他支配，在这病房里，他得受我支配。

“福尔摩斯，"我说，“你病得厉害。病人应当象孩子一样听话。我来给你看病。不管你愿意不愿意，我都要看看你的病状，对症下药。”

他的眼睛恶狠狠地盯着我。

“如果我非要有医生不可，那至少也得请我信得过的人，”他说。

“这么说，你信不过我？”

“你的友情，我当然信得过。但是，事实总归是事实，华生，你到底只是一名片通的医师，经验有限，资格很差。说这些本来是使人不愉快的，可是你一逼一得我别无他法。”

这话重重地刺伤了我。

“这话与你是不相称的，福尔摩斯。你的话清楚地表明了你的一精一神状态。你要是信不过我，我也不勉强你。我去请贾斯帕·密克爵士或者彭罗斯·费舍，或者伦敦其他最好的医生。不论怎么说，你总得有个医生。如果你认为，我可以站在这儿见死不救，也不去请别的医生来帮助你，那你就把你的朋友看错啦。”

“你是一片好意，华生，"病人说话，又似呜咽，又象呻一吟。“难道要我来指出你自己的无知吗？请问，你懂得打巴一奴一里①热病吗？你知道福摩萨黑色败血症吗？"②

①Ｔａｐａｎｕｌｉ，印尼地名。——译者注

②某些外国人沿用的十六世纪葡萄牙殖民一主义者对我国台湾省的称呼。——译者注

“我没有听说过这两种病。”

“华生，在东方有许多疾病问题，有许多奇怪的病理学现象。"他说一句，停一下，以积聚他那微弱的力气。“我最近作过一些有关医学犯罪方面的研究，从中学到不少东西。我的病就是在进行研究的过程中得的。你是无能为力的。”

“也许是这样。不过，我正好知道一爱一因斯特里博士目前就在伦敦。他是现在还健在的热带病权威之一。不要再拒绝啦，福尔摩斯。我这就去请他来。"我毅然转身向门口走去。

我从来没有这么吃惊过！病人象只老虎从一床一上一跃而起，把我拦住。我听见钥匙在锁孔里咔嗒一响。一会儿，病人又摇摇晃晃地回到一床一上。他经过这一番激怒，消耗了大量体力，一精一疲力竭，气喘吁吁地躺在一床一上。

“你不会硬把钥匙从我手里夺去的，华生，我把你留住了，我的朋友。我不让你走，你就别想走。可是，我会顺你的心的。”（这些话都是喘着说的，每说完一句就拼命地吸气。）"你只是在为我着想，这一点我当然很了解。你可以自便，但，给我时间，让我恢复体力。现在，华生，现在不行。现在是四点钟。到六点钟，我让你走。”

“你简直疯了，福尔摩斯。”

“就两个钟头，华生。我答应让你六点钟走。愿意等吗？”

“看来我也没有别的办法啦。”

“肯定没有，华生。谢谢你，我整理被褥不需要你帮助。请你离远一点。华生，我还有一个条件。你可以去找人来帮助我，但不是从你提到的那个人那里寻求帮助，而是从我挑选的人那里去寻求帮助。”

“当然可以。”

“从你进入房间以来，‘当然可以这四个字才是你说出来的第一句通情达理的话，华生，那儿有书。我没有劲了。当一组电池的电都输入一个非导体，我不知道这组电池会有何感觉。六点钟，华生，我们再谈。”

但是，在六点钟远未到来之前就恢复了一交一谈这是肯定的，而这次的情况使我几乎和他跳到门前那一次一样大吃一惊。我曾站了一会儿，望着病一床一上沉默的身影。被子几乎把他的脸全部遮住了。他好象已经睡着。我无心坐下看书，于是在屋里慢慢踱步，看看贴在四周墙上的著名罪犯的照片。我没有目的地来回走着，最后来到壁炉台前。台上零乱地放着烟斗、烟丝袋、注射器、小刀、手槍子弹以及其他一些乱七八糟的东西。这里面有一个黑白两色的象牙小盒，盒上有一活动的小扒。这个小玩意儿很一精一致，我伸手去取，准备仔细看看，这时——

他突然狂叫起来——这一声喊叫在街上也能听见。这一可怕的叫一声使我浑身冰凉，一毛一骨悚然。我回过头来，只见一张一抽一搐的脸和两只惊狂的眼睛。我手拿着小盒站在那里一动不动了。

“放下！快放下，华生——叫你马上放下！"他的头躺回到枕头上。我把小盒放回壁炉台上，他才深深地松了一口气。“我讨厌别人动我的东西，华生。我讨厌，这你是知道的。你使得我无法忍受。你这个医生——你简直要把病人赶到避难所去了。坐下，老兄，让我休息！”

这件意外的事给我留下极不愉快的印象。先是粗一暴和无缘无故的激动，随着是说话这样粗野，这与他平时的和蔼态度相差多远啊。这表明他的头脑是何等混乱。在一切灾祸中，高贵的头脑被毁是最令人痛惜的。我一声不响，情绪低落，一直坐等到过了规定的时间。我一直看着钟，他似乎也一直在看着钟，因为刚过六点，他就开始说话了，同以前一样有生气。

“现在，华生，"他说，“你口袋里有零钱吗？”

“有。”

“银币呢？”

“很多。”

“半个克朗的有多少？”

“五个。”

“啊，太少啦！太少啦！多么不幸呀，华生！虽然就这么点，你还是把它放到表袋里去，其余的钱放到你左边的裤子口袋里。谢谢你。这样一来，就可以使你保持平衡。”

真是一派一胡一言乱语。他颤一抖起来，又发出既象咳嗽又象呜咽的声音。

“你现在把煤气灯点燃起来，华生，但要小心，只能点上一半。我请求你小心，华生。谢谢。这太好了。不，你不用拉AE餦f1百叶窗。劳驾把信和报纸放在这张桌子上，我够得着就行。谢谢你。再把壁炉台上的乱七八糟的东西拿一点过来。好极了，华生！那上面有一个方糖夹子。请你用夹子把那个象牙小盒夹起来，放到这里的报纸里面。好！现在，你可以到下伯克大街！”３号去请柯弗顿·司密斯了。”

说实话，我已经不怎么想去请医生了，因为可怜的福尔摩斯神态如此昏迷，离开他怕有危险。然而，他现在却要请他所说的那个人来看病，其心情之迫切，就象他刚才不准我去请医生的态度之固执一样。

“我从来没听说过这个名字，"我说。

“可能没有听说过，我的好华生。我要告诉了你，也许会使你吃惊的，治这种病的内行并不是一位医生，而是一个种植园主。柯弗顿·司密斯先生是苏门答腊的知名人士，现在正在伦敦访问。在他的种植园里，出现了一种疫病，由于得不到医药救护，他不得不自己着手进行研究，并且取得了影响很大的效果。他这个人非常讲究条理系统，我叫你六点钟之前不要去，是因为我知道你在他书房里是找不到他的。如果你能把他请来，以他治疗这种病的独一无二的经验解决我们的困难——他调查这种病已经成为他的最大嗜好——我不怀疑，他是会帮助我的。”

福尔摩斯的话是连贯的，完整的；不过我不想形容他说话时怎样不断被喘一息所打断，也不想形容病痛怎样使他双手又抓又捏。在我和他相处的这几个小时里，看来他是每况愈下了：热病斑点更加明显，从深陷的黑眼窝里射一出的目光更加刺人，额头上直冒冷汗。但是，他说话时的那种自在的风度依然如放。甚至到了奄奄一息的时候，他仍然是一个支配者。

“把你离开时我的情况详细告诉他，"他说，“你要把你心里的印象表达出来——生命垂危——生命垂危，神志昏迷。真的，我想不出，为什么整个海滩不是一整块丰产的牡蛎。啊，我迷糊啦！多奇怪，脑子要由脑子来控制！我在说什么，华生？”

“叫我去请柯弗顿·司密斯先生。”

“呵，对，我记得。我的一性一命全靠他了，去恳求他，华生。我和他之间彼此没有好感。他有个侄子，华生——我曾怀疑这里面有卑鄙的勾当，我让他看到了这一点。这孩子死得真惨。司密斯恨透了我。你要去说动他的心，华生。请他，求他，想尽办法把他弄来。他能救我——只有他！”

“要是这样，那我就把他拉进马车好了。”

“这可不行。你要把他说服，让他来。然后你在他之前先回到这里来。随便用什么借口都可以，不要跟他一起来。别忘了，华生。你不会使我失望的。你从来没有使我失望过。肯定有天然的敌人在限制生物的繁殖。华生，你和我都已尽了本分。那么，这个世界会不会被繁殖过多的牡蛎淹没呢？不会，不会，可怕呀！你要把心里的一切都表达出来。”

我完全听任他象个傻孩子似地一胡一言乱语，喋喋不休。他把钥匙一交一给我，我高兴极了，赶快接过钥匙，要不然他会把自己锁在屋里的。赫德森太太在过道里等待着，颤一抖着，哭泣着。我走过套间，后面还传来福尔摩斯在一胡一叫瞎唱的尖细嗓音。到了楼下，当我正在叫马车时，一个人从雾中走过来。

“先生，福尔摩斯先生怎么样啦？"他问道。

原来是老相识，苏格兰场的莫顿警长。他身穿花呢便衣。“他病得很厉害，"我回答。

他以一种非常奇怪的神色看着我。要不是这样想显得太恶毒，我倒觉得从车灯下看见的他竟然是满面欢欣的。

“我听到一些关于他生病的谣传，"他说。

马车走动了，我离开了他。

下伯克街原来是在诺廷希尔和肯辛顿一交一界的地方。这一带房子很好，界限却不清楚。马车在一座住宅前面停下。这座房子的老式铁栏杆，双扇大门以及闪亮的铜件都带有一种体面而严肃的高贵气派。一个一本正经的管事出现了，身后射来淡红色的电灯光。这里的一切和他倒很协调。

“柯弗顿·司密斯先生在里面，华生医生！很好，先生，我把你的名片一交一给他。”

我是无名小卒，不会引起柯弗顿·司密斯先生的注意。通过半开着的房门，我听见一个嗓门很高、暴躁刺耳的声音。

“这个人是谁？他要干什么？嗯，斯泰帕尔，我不是对你说过多少次了，在我作研究的时候不让人来打扰我吗？”

管事轻言细语地作了一番安慰一性一的解释。

“哦，我不见他，斯泰帕尔。我的工作不能这样中断。我不在家。就这样对他说吧。要是非见我不可，就叫他早上来。”

我想到福尔摩斯正在病一床一上辗转不安，一分钟一分钟地在数着，等待我去帮助他。现在不是讲客气的时候。他的生命全得靠我办事迅速及时。对主人抱歉不已的管事还没来得及传达主人的口信，我已经闯过他身边进了屋里。

一个人从火边的一把靠椅上站起来，发出愤怒的尖一叫。只见一张淡黄的面孔，满脸横肉，一脸油腻；一个肥一大的双下巴；一毛一茸一茸的茶色眉一毛一下面一对一陰一沉吓人的灰眼睛盯着我；光秃秃的脑门旁的红色卷发上故作时髦地斜压着一顶天鹅绒的吸烟小帽。脑袋很大，可是当我低头一看，不觉大吃一惊，这个人的身躯又小又弱，双肩和后背弓弯，好象在小时候得过佝偻病。

“这是怎么回事？"他高声尖一叫道，“这样闯进来是什么意思？我不是传话给你，叫你明天早上来吗？”

“对不起，"我说，“事情不能耽搁。歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生——”

提到我朋友的名字，对这个矮小人物产生了不平常的效果。他脸上的忿怒表情顿时消失，神色变得紧张而警惕。

“你是从福尔摩斯那儿来的？"他问道。

“我刚从他那儿来。”

“福尔摩斯怎么样？他好吗？”

“他病得快死啦。我就是为这事来的。”

他指给我一把椅子，他也在自己的靠椅上坐下。就在这时候，我从壁炉墙上的一面镜子里起见了他的脸。我敢起誓说，他脸上露出一丝恶毒而一陰一险的笑容。不过我自己又想，一定是我意外地引起了某种神经紧张，因为过了一会儿，他转过身来看着我的时候，脸上显露出真诚关怀的表情。

“听到这个消息，我很不安，"他说。“我不过是通过做几笔生意才认识福尔摩斯先生的。不过我很看重他的才华和一性一格。他业余研究犯罪学，我业余研究病理学。他抓坏人，我灭病菌。这就是我的监狱，"说着他用手指向一个小桌子上的一排排瓶瓶罐罐。"在这里培养的胶质中，就有世界上最凶恶的犯罪分子正在服刑哩。”

“正是因为你有特殊的知识，福尔摩斯才想见到你。他对你评价极高。他认为在伦敦，只有你才能帮助他。”

这个矮小的人物吃了一惊，那顶时髦的吸烟帽竟然滑一到地上去了。

“为什么？"他问道，“为什么福尔摩斯认为我可以帮他解决困难？”

“因为你懂得东方的疾病。”

“为什么他认为他染上的病是东方疾病呢？”

“因为，在进行职业方面的调查了解中，他在码头上和中国水手一起工作过。”

柯弗顿·司密斯先生高兴地笑了，拾起了他的吸烟帽。

“哦，是这样——呃？"他说，“我想这事并不象你想的那么严重。他病了多久啦？”

“差不多三天了。”

“神志昏迷吗？”

“有时候昏迷。”

“啧！啧！这么说很严重。不答应他的要求去看他，那是不人道的。可叫我中断工作我又非常不愿意，华生医生。不过，这件事自然又当别论。我马上就跟你去。”

我想起福尔摩斯的嘱咐。

“我另外还有约会，"我说。

“很好。我一个人去。我有福尔摩斯先生的住址。你放心，我最迟在半小时内就到。”

我提心吊胆地回到福尔摩斯的卧室。我怕当我不在的时候会出什么事。这一会儿，他好多了。我放了心。他的脸色仍然惨白，但已无神志昏迷的症状。他说话的声音很虚弱，但比往常更显得清醒。

“唔，见到他了吗，华生？”

“见到了。他就来。”

“好极了，华生！好极了！你是最好的信差。”

“他想同我一起来。”

“那绝对不行，华生。那显然是办不到的。我生什么病，他问了吗？”

“我告诉他关于东区中国人的事情。"①

①伦敦东区，劳动人民聚居地。——译者注

“对！好，华生，你已经尽了好朋友的责任。现在你可以退场了。”

“我得等，我得听听他的意见，福尔摩斯。”

“那当然。不过，如果他以为这里只剩下两个人，我有充分的理由认为他的意见会更加坦率，更有价值。我的一床一头后面刚巧有个地方，华生。”

“我亲一爱一的福尔摩斯！”

“我看没有别的办法了，华生。这地方不适于躲人，可也不容易引人生疑。就躲在那儿吧，华生，我看行。"他突然坐起，憔悴的脸上显得严肃而全神贯注。"听见车轮声了，快，华生，快呀，老兄，如果你真是我的好朋友。不要动，不管出什么事，你千万别动，听见了吗？别说话！别动！听着就行了。"转眼间，他那突如其来的一精一力消失了，老练果断的话音变成神志迷糊的微弱的咕噜声。

我赶忙躲藏起来。我听到上楼的脚步声，卧室的开门声和关门声。后来，我非常惊讶：半天鸦雀无声，只听见病人急促的呼吸和喘气。我能想象，我们的来客是站在病一床一边观察病人。寂静终于打破了。

“福尔摩斯！"他喊道，“福尔摩斯！"声音就象叫醒睡着的人那样迫切。“我说话，你能听见吗，福尔摩斯？"传来沙沙的声音，好象他在摇晃病人的肩膀。

“是司密斯先生吗？"福尔摩斯小声问道，“我真不敢想，你会来。”

那个人笑了。

“我可不这样认为，"他说。“你看，我来了。这叫以德报怨，福尔摩斯——以德报怨啊！”

“你真好——真高尚。我欣赏你的特殊知识。”

我们的来客气哧笑了一声。

“你是欣赏。可幸的是，你是伦敦唯一表示欣赏的人。你得的是什么病，你知道吗？”

“同样的病，"福尔摩斯说。

“啊！你认得出症状？”

“太清楚了。”

“唔，这我不会感到奇怪的，福尔摩斯。如果是同样的病，我也不会感到奇怪。如果是同样的病，你的前途就不妙了。可怜的维克托在得病的第四天就死去了——他可是个身强力壮、生龙活虎的年轻小伙子啊。正如你所说，他竟然在伦敦中心区染上了这种罕见的亚洲病，这当然使人惊奇。对于这种病，我也进行过专门研究。奇怪的巧合啊，福尔摩斯。这件事你注意到了，你真行。不过还得无情地指出，这是有其因果关系的。”

“我知道是你干的。”

“哦，你知道，是吗？可是你终究无法加以证实。你到处造我的谣言，现在你自己得了病又来求我帮助，你自己又作何感想啊？这到底是玩的什么把戏——呃？”

我听见病人急促而吃力的喘一息声。“给我水！"他气喘喘地说。

“你就要完蛋了，我的朋友。不过，我得跟你把话说完再让你死。所以我把水给你。拿着，别倒出来！对。你懂得我说的话吗？”

福尔摩斯呻一吟起来。

“尽力帮助我吧。过去的事就让它过去吧，"他低声说，“我一定把我的话忘掉——我起誓，我一定。只是请你把我的病治好，我就忘掉它。”

“忘掉什么？”

“哎，忘掉维克托·萨维奇是怎么死的。事实上刚才你承认了，是你干的。我一定忘掉它。”

“你忘掉也罢，记住也罢，随你的便。我是不会在证人席上见到你了。我对你把话说死，我的福尔摩斯，要见到你，也是在另外一个情况很不一样的席位上啦。就算你知道我侄子是怎么死的，又能把我怎么样。我们现在谈的不是他而是你。”

“对，对。”

“来找我的那个家伙——他的名字我忘了——对我说，你是在东区水手当中染上这病的。”

“我只能作这样的解释。”

“你以为你的脑子了不起，对不起，福尔摩斯？你以为你很高明，是不是？这一回，你遇到了比你还要高明的人。你回想一下吧，福尔摩斯，你得这个病不会另有起因吗？”

“我不能思考了。我的脑子坏了。看在上帝的份上，帮助我！”

“是的，我要帮助你。我要帮助你弄明白你现在的处境以及你是怎样弄到这步田地的。在你死之前，我愿意让你知道。”

“给我点什么，减轻我的痛苦吧。”

“痛苦吗？是的，苦力们到快断起的时候总是要发出几声嚎叫。我看你大概是一抽一筋了吧。”

“是的，是的，一抽一筋了。”

“嗯，不过你还能听出我在说什么。现在听着！你记不记得，就在你开始出现症状的时候，你遇到过什么不平常的事情没有？”

“没有，没有，完全没有。”

“再想想。”

“我病得太厉害，想不起来啦。”

“哦，那么我来帮助你。收到过什么邮件没有？”

“邮件？”

“偶然收到一个小盒子？”

“我头昏——我要死了！”

“听着，福尔摩斯！"发出一阵响声，好象是他在摇晃快要死去的病人。我只能躲在那里一声不响。"你得听我说。你一定得听我说。你记得一个盒子——一个象牙盒子吧？星期三送来的。你把它打开了——还记得不？”

“对，对，我把它打开了。里面有个很尖的弹簧。是开玩笑——”

“不是开玩笑。你上了当。你这个傻瓜，自作自受。谁叫你来惹我呢？如果你不来找我的麻烦，我也不会伤害你。”

“我记得，"福尔摩斯气喘喘地说，“那个弹簧！它刺出一血来啦。这个盒子——就是桌子上这个。”

“就是这个，不错！放进口袋带走了事。你最后的一点证据也没有了。现在你明白真相了，福尔摩斯。你知道了，是我把你害死的，你可以死了。你对维克托·萨维奇的命运了如指掌，所以我让你来分享分享。你已接近死亡，福尔摩斯。我要坐在这里，眼看着你死去。”

福尔摩斯细微的声音小得简直听不见了。

“说什么？"司密斯问，“把煤气灯扭大些？啊，夜色降临了，是吧？好。我来扭。我可以看你看得更清楚些。"他走过房间，突然灯火通明。"还有什么事要我替你效劳的吗，朋友？”

“火柴，香烟。”

我一阵惊喜，差一点叫了起来。他说话恢复了他那自然的声音——或许有点虚弱，但正是我熟悉的声音。长时间的停顿。我感到柯弗顿·司密斯是一声不响、惊讶万分地站在那里瞅着他的同伴。

“这是什么意思？"我终于听见他开口了，声音焦躁而紧张。

“扮演角色的最成功的方法就是自己充当这个角色。"福尔摩斯说道，“我对你说了，三天来，我没吃没喝，多亏你的好意，给我倒了一杯水。但是，我觉得最叫人难受的还是烟草。啊，这儿有香烟。"我听见划火柴的声音。“这就好多了。喂！喂！我是听到一位朋友的脚步声了吗？”

外面响起脚步声。门打开，莫顿警长出现了。

“一切顺当，这就是你要找的那个人。"福尔摩斯说。

警官发出通常的警告。

“我以你谋害维克托·萨维奇的罪名逮捕你，"他最后说。

“你可以加一条。他还试图谋害一个名叫歇洛克·福尔摩斯的人，"我的朋友笑着说道，“为了救一个病人，警长，柯弗顿·司密斯先生真够意思，他扭大了灯光，发出我们的信号。对了，犯人上衣右边口袋里有个小盒子。还是把他的外衣脱一下来的好。谢谢你。如果我是你，我会小心翼翼地拿着它。放在这儿，在审讯中可能用得着它。”

突然一阵哄乱和扭打，接着是铁起相撞和一声苦叫。

“你挣扎只能是自讨苦吃，"警长说道，“站住别动，听见没有？"手铐咔的一声锁上了。

“圈套设得真妙啊！"一阵吼声。“上被告席的是福尔摩斯，不是我。他叫我来给他治病。我为他担心，我就来了。他当然会推脱说，他编造的话是我说的，以此证明他神志不清的猜疑是真的。福尔摩斯，你一爱一怎么撒谎就怎么撒谎好了。我的话和你的话同样是可信的。&r