by L. E. Smart
"Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my mother came to live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my mother give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There she was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. She had always laughed at what she called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but she looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon herself.
"'Why, what on earth does this mean, Joan?' she stammered.
"My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I.
"She looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' she cried. 'Here are the very letters. But what is this written above them?'
"'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over her shoulder.
"'What papers? What sundial?' she asked.
"'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.'
"'Pooh!' said she, gripping hard at her courage. 'We are in a civilised land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the thing come from?'
"'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark.
"'Some preposterous practical joke,' said she. 'What have I to do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.'
"'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said.
"'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.'
"'Then let me do so?'
"'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.'
"It was in vain to argue with her, for she was a very obstinate woman. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings.
"On the third day after the coming of the letter my mother went from home to visit an old friend of her, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that she should go, for it seemed to me that she was farther from danger when she was away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of her absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. My mother had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I hurried to her, but she passed away without having ever recovered her consciousness. She had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to her, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected with her death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round her.
"In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my aunt's life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another.
"It was in January, '85, that my poor mother met her end, and two years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my mother."
The young woman took from her waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to the table she shook out upon it five little dried orange pips.
"This is the envelope," she continued. "The postmark is London -- eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon my mother's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'"
"What have you done?" asked Holmes.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"To tell the truth" -- she sank her face into her thin, white hands -- "I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against."
"Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, woman, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair."
"I have seen the police."
"Ah!"
"But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings."
Holmes shook her clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!" she cried.
"They have, however, allowed me a policewoman, who may remain in the house with me."
"Has she come with you tonight?"
"No. Her orders were to stay in the house."
Again Holmes raved in the air.
"Why did you come to me," she cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at once?"
"I did not know. It was only today that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by her to come to you."
"It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before us -- no suggestive detail which might help us?"
"There is one thing," said Josie Openshaw. She rummaged in her coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, she laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said she, "that on the day when my aunt burned the papers I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of her room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my aunt's."
Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical notices:
"4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.
"7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and Jocelyn Swain, of St. Augustine.
"9th. McCauley cleared.
"10th. Jocelyn Swain cleared.
"12th. Visited Paramore. All well."
"Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get home instantly and act."
"What shall I do?"
"There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your aunt, and that this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?"
"Entirely."
"Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties."
"I thank you," said the young woman, rising and pulling on her overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you advise."
"Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and immine
nt danger. How do you go back?"
"By train from Waterloo."
"It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely."
"I am armed."
"That is well. Tomorrow I shall set to work upon your case."
"I shall see you at Horsham, then?"
"No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it."
"Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular." She shook hands with us and took her leave. Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements -- blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale -- and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more.
Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with her head sunk forward and her eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then she lit her pipe, and leaning back in her chair she watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.
"I think, Watson," she remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this."
"Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."
"Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this Josie Openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos."
"But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what these perils are?"
"There can be no question as to their nature," she answered.
"Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does she pursue this unhappy family?"
Sherlock Holmes closed her eyes and placed her elbows upon the arms of her chair, with her finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," she remarked, "would, when she had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to her knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that a woman should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to her in her work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion."
"Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordswoman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis."
Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," she said, "I say now, as I said then, that a woman should keep her little brain-attic stocked with all the furniture that she is likely to use, and the rest she can put away in the lumber-room of her library, where she can get it if she wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us tonight, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you. Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Women at her time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town. Her extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that she was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove her from America. As to what it was she feared, we can only deduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by herself and her successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?"
"The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third from London."
"From East London. What do you deduce from that?"
"They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship."
"Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the probability -- the strong probability -- is that the writer was on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?"
"A greater distance to travel."
"But the letter had also a greater distance to come."
"Then I do not see the point."
"There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the woman or women are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer."
"It is possible."
"More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay."
"Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentless persecution?"
"The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. A single woman could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been women of resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society."
"But of what society?"
"Have you never -- " said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking her voice -- "have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"
"I never have."
Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon her knee. "Here it is," said she presently:
"'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked woman in some fantastic but generally recognised shape -- a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure her former ways, or might fly from the country. If she braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon her, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any woman su
cceeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.'
"You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that she and her family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first women in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered."
"Then the page we have seen -- "
"Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pips to A, B, and C' -- that is, sent the society's warning to them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have told her. There is nothing more to be said or to be done tonight, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow-women."
It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.
"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said she; "I have, I foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young Openshaw's."
"What steps will you take?" I asked.
