Chapter 2 The Statement of the Case

Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dull hue, relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her expression was sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she took the seat which Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip trembled, her hand quivered, and she showed every sign of intense inward agitation.

"I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said, "because you once enabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domestic complication. She was much impressed by your kindness and skill."

"Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I was of some slight service to her. The case, however, as I remember it, was a very simple one."

"She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterly inexplicable, than the situation in which I find myself."

Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut, hawklike features. "State your case," said he, in brisk, business tones.

I felt that my position was an embarrassing one. "You will, I am sure, excuse me," I said, rising from my chair.

To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me. "If your friend," she said, "would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable service to me."

I relapsed into my chair.

"Briefly," she continued, "the facts are these. My father was an officer in an Indian regiment who sent me home when I was quite a child. My mother was dead, and I had no relative in England. I was placed, however, in a comfortable boarding establishment at Edinburgh, and there I remained until I was seventeen years of age. In the year 1878 my father, who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leave and came home. He telegraphed to me from London that he had arrived all safe, and directed me to come down at once, giving the Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I remember, was full of kindness and love. On reaching London I drove to the Langham, and was informed that Captain Morstan was staying there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not yet returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated with the police, and next morning we advertised in all the papers. Our inquiries led to no result; and from that day to this no word has ever been heard of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope, to find some peace, some comfort, and instead--" She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob cut short the sentence.

"The date?" asked Holmes, opening his note-book.

"He disappeared upon the 3d of December, 1878,--nearly ten years ago."

"His luggage?"

"Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue,--some clothes, some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from the Andaman Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of the convict-guard there."

"Had he any friends in town?"

"Only one that we know of,--Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th Bombay Infantry. The major had retired some little time before, and lived at Upper Norwood. We communicated with him, of course, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in England."

"A singular case," remarked Holmes.

"I have not yet described to you the most singular part. About six years ago--to be exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882--an advertisement appeared in the Times asking for the address of Miss Mary Morstan and stating that it would be to her advantage to come forward. There was no name or address appended. I had at that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of governess. By her advice I published my address in the advertisement column. The same day there arrived through the post a small card-board box addressed to me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has always appeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerable value. You can see for yourselves that they are very handsome." She opened a flat box as she spoke, and showed me six of the finest pearls that I had ever seen.

"Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "Has anything else occurred to you?"

"Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you. This morning I received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself."

"Thank you," said Holmes. "The envelope too, please. Postmark, London, S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark on corner,-- probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence a packet. Particular man in his stationery. No address. 'Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre to- night at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.' Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery. What do you intend to do, Miss Morstan?"

"That is exactly what I want to ask you."

"Then we shall most certainly go. You and I and--yes, why, Dr. Watson is the very man. Your correspondent says two friends. He and I have worked together before."

"But would he come?" she asked, with something appealing in her voice and expression.

"I should be proud and happy," said I, fervently, "if I can be of any service."

"You are both very kind," she answered. "I have led a retired life, and have no friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?"

"You must not be later," said Holmes. "There is one other point, however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-box addresses?"

"I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of paper.

"You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now." He spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting glances from one to the other. "They are disguised hands, except the letter," he said, presently, "but there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same person. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblance between this hand and that of your father?"

"Nothing could be more unlike."

"I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then."

"Au revoir," said our visitor, and, with a bright, kindly glance from one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and hurried away. Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the street, until the gray turban and white feather were but a speck in the sombre crowd.

"What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to my companion.

He had lit his pipe again, and was leaning back with drooping eyelids. "Is she?" he said, languidly. "I did not observe."

"You really are an automaton,--a calculating-machine!" I cried. "There is something positively inhuman in you at times."

He smiled gently. "It is of the first importance," he said, "not to allow your judgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere unit,--a factor in a problem. The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the most repellant man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the London poor."

"In this case, however--"

"I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting? What do you make of this fellow's scribble?"

"It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of business habits and some force of character."

Holmes shook his head. "Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the common herd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character always differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references to make. Let me recommend this book,--one of the most remarkable ever penned. It is Winwood Reade's 'Martyrdom of Man.' I shall be back in an hour."

I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts were far from the daring speculations of the writer. My mind ran upon our late visitor,--her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now,--a sweet age, when youth has lost its self- consciousness and become a little sobered by experience. So I sat and mused, until such dangerous thoughts came into my head that I hurried away to my desk and plunged furiously into the latest treatise upon pathology. What was I, an army surgeon with a weak leg and a weaker banking-account, that I should dare to think of such things? She was a unit, a factor,--nothing more. If my future were black, it was better surely to face it like a man than to attempt to brighten it by mere will-o'-the-wisps of the imagination.

第二章 案情的陈述

摩斯坦小一姐以稳重的步履、沉着的姿态走进屋来。她是一个浅发女郎，体态轻一盈，戴看颜色调和的手套，穿着最合乎她风度的衣服。因为她衣服的简单素雅，说明了她是一个生活不太优裕的人。她的衣服是暗褐色一毛一呢料的，没有花边和装饰，配着一顶同样暗色的帽子，边缘上插着一根白色的翎一毛一。面貌虽不美丽，但是丰采却很一温一柔可一爱一，一双蔚蓝的大眼睛，饱满有神，富有情感。就我所见到过的女人，远到数十国和三大洲，但是从来没有见过一副这样高雅和聪敏的面容。当福尔摩斯请她坐下的时候，我看见她嘴唇微动，两手颤一抖，显示出紧张的情绪和内心的不安。

她说：“福尔摩斯先生，我所以来这里请教，是因为您曾经为我的女主人西色尔·弗里斯特夫人解决过一桩家庭纠纷。她对您的协助和本领是很感激和钦佩的。”

他想了一想答道：“西色尔·弗里斯特夫人呀，我记得对她有过小小的帮忙。那一件案子，我记得是很简单的。”"她并不认为简单。最低限度，我所请教的案子您不能同样也说是简单的了。我想再也没有任何事情比我的处境更离破费解了。”

福尔摩斯一搓一着他的双手，目光炯炯。他从椅子上微微倾身向前，在他那清秀而象鹞鹰的脸上现出了一精一神极端集中的样子。“说一说您的案情吧。"他以一精一神勃勃而又郑重其事的语调说道。

我觉得在此有些不便，因而站起来说道：“请原谅我，失陪了。”

没想到这位年轻姑一娘一伸出她戴着手套的手止住了我，说道：“您如肯稍坐一会儿，或者可以给我很大帮助呢。”

我因此重新坐下。

她继续说道：“简单地说，事情是这样的：我父亲是驻印度的军官，我很小的时候就被送回了英国。我母亲早已去世，国内又没有亲戚，于是就把我送到一爱一丁堡城读书，在一个环境很舒适的学校里寄宿，一直到我十七岁那一年方才离开那里。一八七八年，我的父亲——他是一团一里资格最老的上尉——请了十二个月的假，返回祖国。他从伦敦拍来电报告诉我，他已AE絓f1安地到了伦敦，住在朗厄姆旅馆，催促我即刻前去相会。我还记得，在他的电文中充满了慈一爱一。我一到伦敦就坐车去朗厄姆旅馆了。司事告诉我说，摩斯坦上尉确是住在那里，但是自从头天晚上出门后到现在还没有回来。我等了一天，毫无消息。到了夜里，采纳了旅馆经理的建议，我去警察署报告，并在第二天早上的各大报纸上登了寻人广告。我们的探询没有得到任何结果。从那天气直到现在，始终没有得到有关我那不幸的父亲的任何消息。他回到祖国，心中抱着很大的希望，本想可以享清福，没想到……”

她用手摸一着喉部，话还没有说完，已经岂不成声。

福尔摩斯打开了他的记事本问道：“日子还记得吗？”

“他在一八七八年十二月三日失踪——差不多已有十年了。”

“他的行李呢？”

“还在旅馆里，行李里边找不出什么可以作为线索的东西——有些衣服和书籍，还有不少安达曼群岛的古玩，他从前在那里是个监管囚犯的军官。”

“他在伦敦有没有朋友？”

“我们只知道一个——驻孟买陆军第三十四一团一的舒尔托少校，和他同在一个一团一里。这位少校前些时已经退伍，住在上诺伍德。我们当然和他联系过，可是他连我父亲回到英国的事都不知道。”

福尔摩斯道：“真是怪事。”

“我还没有谈到最破怪的事呢。大约六年前——准确日期是一八八二年五月四日——在《泰晤士报》上发现了一则广告，征询梅丽·摩斯坦小一姐的住址，并说如果她回答的话，是对她有利的，广告下面没有署名和地址。那时我刚到西色尔·弗里斯特夫人那里充当家庭教师。我和她商量以后，在报纸广告栏里登出了我的住址。当天就有人从邮局寄给我一个小纸盒，里面装着一颗很大的光泽炫耀的珠子，盒子里没有一个字。从此以后，每年到了同一日期总要接到一个相同的纸盒，里面装有一颗同样的珠子，没有能找到寄者的任何的线索。这些珠子经过内行人看过，说是稀有之宝，价值很高。你们请看这些珠子，实在很好。"她说着就打开了一个扁平的盒子，我看见了生气从未见过的六颗上等珍珠。

福尔摩斯道："您所说的极为有趣，另外还有别的情况吗？”

“有的，今天早上我又接到了这封信，请您自己看一看，这也就是我来向您请教的原因。”

福尔摩斯道：“谢谢您，请您把信封也给我。邮戳，伦敦西南区，日期，九月七日。①啊！角上有一个大拇指印，可能是邮递员的。纸非常好，信封值六便士一扎，写信人对信纸信封很考究，没有发信人的地址。今晚平时请到莱西厄姆剧院外左边第三个柱子前候我。您如怀疑，请偕友二人同来。您是被委曲的女子，定将得到公道。不要带警察来，带来就不能相见。您的不知名的朋友。这真是一件好玩的玄秘的事情，摩斯坦小一姐，您准备怎么办呢？”——

①原书是7月，谅是笔误。——译者注

“这正是我要和您商量的呀。”

“咱们一定得去。您和我，还有——不错，华生医师还是咱们所需要的人。信上说，两位朋友，他和我一直是在一起工作的。”

她用请求的表情看着我，向福尔摩斯道："可是他肯去吗？”

我热情地说：“只要我能效力，真是荣幸极了。”

她道：“两位这样的仗义，我很感激。我很孤独，没有朋友可以相托。我六点钟到这里来，大约可以吧？”

福尔摩斯道：“可是不能再晚了。还有一点，这封信和寄珠子的小盒上的笔迹相同吗？”

她拿出六张纸来说道：“全在这里。”

“您考虑得很周密，在我的委托人里，您确实是模范了。现在咱们看一看吧。"他把信纸全铺在桌上，一张一张地对比着继续说道：“除了这封信以外，笔迹全是伪装的，但是都出于一个人的手笔，这一点是毫无疑问的。您看这个希腊字母e多么突出，再看字末的s字母的弯法。摩斯坦小一姐，我不愿给您无谓的希望，可是我倒愿知道，这些笔迹和您父亲的，有相似之点没有？”

“绝不相同。”

“我想也是如此。那么我们在六点钟等您。请您把这些信留下，我也许要先研究一下，现在只有三点半钟，再会吧。”

我们的客人答道：“再会。"她又用和蔼的眼光看了看我们两人，就把盛珠子的盒子放在胸前，匆匆地走了出去。我站在窗前看着她轻快地走向街头，直到她的灰帽和白翎一毛一消失在人群当中。

我回头向我的伙伴说道：“真是一位美丽的女郎！”

他已经重新点上了烟斗，靠在椅背上，合着两眼，无力地说道：“是吗？我没有留神。”

我嚷道：“你真是个机仆人，一架计算机！有时你简直一点儿人一性一也没有。”

他一温一和地微笑道：“不要让一个人的特质影响你的判断能力，这是最重要的。一个委托人，对于我仅仅是一个单位——问题里的一个因素。感情作用会影响清醒的理智。一个我一生所见的最美丽的女人，曾经为了获取保险赔款而毒杀了三个小孩，结果被判绞刑；可是我认识的一个最不讨人喜欢的男子，却是一位慈善家，捐赠了二十五万镑救济伦敦的平民。”

“但是，这一次……”

“我向来不作任何例外。定律没有例外。你也曾研究过笔迹的特征吗？对于这个人的笔迹你有什么见解？”

我答道：“写得还够清楚、整齐，是一个有商业经验和一性一格坚强的人写的。”

福尔摩斯摇头道：“你看他写的长字母差不多都没有高过一般字母，那个d字象个a字，还有那个象个，一性一格坚强的le人不论写得怎样难认，字的高矮总是分明的，他的k字写得不一律，大写的字母倒还工整。我现在要出去了，还有些问题要搞清楚。让我介绍你一本书——一本最不平凡的著作，这是一温一伍德·瑞德写的《成仁记》，我去一个钟头就回来。我坐在窗前拿着书，但是我的思想并没有放在研究这位作者的杰作上。我的思想专注在方才来的客人身上——她的音容笑貌和她在生活里所遭遇的离破的事情。如果她父亲失踪那年她是十AE運f1岁的话，她现在就应当是二十七岁了——正是青年稚起消退、转到稍经事故的妙龄的阶段。我就这样地坐在那里冥想，直到危险的妄想闯进我的脑海。因此我急急坐到桌前，拿出一本最近的病理学论文来仔细地读，借以遏制我的妄想。我是一个什么样的人？一个陆军军医，有一条伤腿，又没有多少钱，怎好有这种妄想？她只是案子里面的一个单位，一个因素——再没有什么了。如果我前途是黑暗的，最好还是毅然地担当票来，不要去一胡一思乱想，妄想要扭转自己的命运吧。