The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  ADVENTURE V. THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS

  When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmescases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many whichpresent strange and interesting features that it is no easymatter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however,have already gained publicity through the papers, and others havenot offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friendpossessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object ofthese papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled hisanalytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings withoutan ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, andhave their explanations founded rather upon conjecture andsurmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear tohim. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkablein its details and so startling in its results that I am temptedto give some account of it in spite of the fact that there arepoints in connection with it which never have been, and probablynever will be, entirely cleared up.

  The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greateror less interest, of which I retain the records. Among myheadings under this one twelve months I find an account of theadventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur MendicantSociety, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of afurniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of theBritish barque "Sophy Anderson", of the singular adventures of theGrice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of theCamberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered,Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, toprove that it had been wound up two hours before, and thattherefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--adeduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up thecase. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none ofthem present such singular features as the strange train ofcircumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe.

  It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial galeshad set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind hadscreamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so thateven here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forcedto raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life andto recognise the presence of those great elemental forces whichshriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, likeuntamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grewhigher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child inthe chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of thefireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at theother was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories untilthe howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text,and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash ofthe sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for afew days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at BakerStreet.

  "Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely thebell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?"

  "Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encouragevisitors."

  "A client, then?"

  "If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man outon such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is morelikely to be some crony of the landlady's."

  Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for therecame a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. Hestretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself andtowards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.

  "Come in!" said he.

  The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at theoutside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something ofrefinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrellawhich he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof toldof the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked abouthim anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that hisface was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who isweighed down with some great anxiety.

  "I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez tohis eyes. "I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I havebrought some traces of the storm and rain into your snugchamber."

  "Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes. "They may resthere on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up fromthe south-west, I see."

  "Yes, from Horsham."

  "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps isquite distinctive."

  "I have come for advice."

  "That is easily got."

  "And help."

  "That is not always so easy."

  "I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergasthow you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal."

  "Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards."

  "He said that you could solve anything."

  "He said too much."

  "That you are never beaten."

  "I have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once by awoman."

  "But what is that compared with the number of your successes?"

  "It is true that I have been generally successful."

  "Then you may be so with me."

  "I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour mewith some details as to your case."

  "It is no ordinary one."

  "None of those which come to me are. I am the last court ofappeal."

  "And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, youhave ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain ofevents than those which have happened in my own family."

  "You fill me with interest," said Holmes. "Pray give us theessential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwardsquestion you as to those details which seem to me to be mostimportant."

  The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet outtowards the blaze.

  "My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have,as far as I can understand, little to do with this awfulbusiness. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you anidea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of theaffair.

  "You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle Eliasand my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry,which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. Hewas a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his businessmet with such success that he was able to sell it and to retireupon a handsome competence.

  "My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man andbecame a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have donevery well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army,and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. WhenLee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, wherehe remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he cameback to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham.He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and hisreason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and hisdislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise tothem. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, veryfoul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiringdisposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, Idoubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two orthree fields round his house, and there he would take hisexercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leavehis room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked veryheavily, but he would see no society and did not want anyfriends, not even his own brother.

  "He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at thetime when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. Thiswould be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine yearsin England. He begged my father to let me live with him and hewas very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to befond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he wouldmake me his representative both with the servants and with thetradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quitemaster of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where Iliked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him inhis privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for hehad a single
room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which wasinvariably locked, and which he would never permit either me oranyone else to enter. With a boy's curiosity I have peepedthrough the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such acollection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in sucha room.

  "One day--it was in March, 1883--a letter with a foreign stamplay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate. It was not acommon thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were allpaid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. 'FromIndia!' said he as he took it up, 'Pondicherry postmark! What canthis be?' Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five littledried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began tolaugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sightof his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, hisskin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which hestill held in his trembling hand, 'K. K. K.!' he shrieked, andthen, 'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!'

  "'What is it, uncle?' I cried.

  "'Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to hisroom, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelopeand saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above thegum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing elsesave the five dried pips. What could be the reason of hisoverpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as Iascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key,which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a smallbrass box, like a cashbox, in the other.

  "'They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,'said he with an oath. 'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in myroom to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.'

  "I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked tostep up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in thegrate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burnedpaper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As Iglanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid wasprinted the treble K which I had read in the morning upon theenvelope.

  "'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leavemy estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, tomy brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend toyou. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find youcannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliestenemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can'tsay what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paperwhere Mr. Fordham shows you.'

  "I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away withhim. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepestimpression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it everyway in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet Icould not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it leftbehind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passedand nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. Icould see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever,and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of histime he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon theinside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzyand would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with arevolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man,and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, byman or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he wouldrush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him,like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terrorwhich lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seenhis face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though itwere new raised from a basin.

  "Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not toabuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of thosedrunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, whenwe went to search for him, face downward in a littlegreen-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. Therewas no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep,so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity,brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how he wincedfrom the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myselfthat he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed,however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, andof some 14,000 pounds, which lay to his credit at the bank."

  "One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee,one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let mehave the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, andthe date of his supposed suicide."

  "The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weekslater, upon the night of May 2nd."

  "Thank you. Pray proceed."

  "When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at myrequest, made a careful examination of the attic, which had beenalways locked up. We found the brass box there, although itscontents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was apaper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath.These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which hadbeen destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there wasnothing of much importance in the attic save a great manyscattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life inAmerica. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he haddone his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier.Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southernstates, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he hadevidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bagpoliticians who had been sent down from the North.

  "Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live atHorsham, and all went as well as possible with us until theJanuary of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard myfather give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at thebreakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly openedenvelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in theoutstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at whathe called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he lookedvery scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come uponhimself.

  "'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered.

  "My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I.

  "He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here arethe very letters. But what is this written above them?'

  "'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over hisshoulder.

  "'What papers? What sundial?' he asked.

  "'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but thepapers must be those that are destroyed.'

  "'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in acivilised 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 he. 'What have I to dowith sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of suchnonsense.'

  "'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 suchnonsense.'

  "It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinateman. I went about, however, with a heart which was full offorebodings.

  "On the third day after the coming of the letter my father wentfrom home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who isin command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was gladthat he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther fromdanger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was inerror. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegramfrom the major, imploring me to come at once. My father hadfallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in theneighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. Ihurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recoveredhis consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning fromFareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him,and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation inbringing in a verdict of 'death from acci
dental causes.'Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, Iwas unable to find anything which could suggest the idea ofmurder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, norobbery, 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 beenwoven round him.

  "In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask mewhy I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was wellconvinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon anincident in my uncle's life, and that the danger would be aspressing in one house as in another.

  "It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and twoyears and eight months have elapsed since then. During that timeI have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope thatthis curse had passed away from the family, and that it had endedwith the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon,however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape inwhich it had come upon my father."

  The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, andturning to the table he shook out upon it five little driedorange pips.

  "This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark isLondon--eastern division. Within are the very words which wereupon my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put thepapers on the sundial.'"

  "What have you done?" asked Holmes.

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, whitehands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poorrabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be inthe grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresightand no precautions can guard against."

  "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you arelost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time fordespair."

  "I have seen the police."

  "Ah!"

  "But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced thatthe inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are allpractical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were reallyaccidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected withthe warnings."

  Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredibleimbecility!" he cried.

  "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain inthe house with me."

  "Has he come with you to-night?"

  "No. His orders were to stay in the house."

  Again Holmes raved in the air.

  "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did younot come at once?"

  "I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to MajorPrendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come toyou."

  "It is really two days since you had the letter. We should haveacted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, thanthat which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail whichmight help us?"

  "There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coatpocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tintedpaper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance,"said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers Iobserved that the small, unburned margins which lay amid theashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheetupon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that itmay be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out fromamong the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyondthe mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I thinkmyself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing isundoubtedly my uncle'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 froma book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were thefollowing enigmatical notices:

  "4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.

  "7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain, of St. Augustine.

  "9th. McCauley cleared.

  "10th. John Swain cleared.

  "12th. Visited Paramore. All well."

  "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning itto our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose anotherinstant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have toldme. 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 mustput this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brassbox which you have described. You must also put in a note to saythat all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and thatthis is the only one which remains. You must assert that in suchwords as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, youmust at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Doyou understand?"

  "Entirely."

  "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. Ithink that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have ourweb to weave, while theirs is already woven. The firstconsideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatensyou. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish theguilty parties."

  "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on hisovercoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shallcertainly do as you advise."

  "Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself inthe meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt thatyou are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do yougo back?"

  "By train from Waterloo."

  "It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust thatyou may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself tooclosely."

  "I am armed."

  "That is well. To-morrow 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 seekit."

  "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with newsas to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in everyparticular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outsidethe wind still screamed and the rain splashed and patteredagainst the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have cometo us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheetof sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by themonce more.

  Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunkforward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then helit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the bluesmoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.

  "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases wehave had none more fantastic than this."

  "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."

  "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seemsto me to be walking amid even greater perils than did theSholtos."

  "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as towhat these perils are?"

  "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered.

  "Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursuethis unhappy family?"

  Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon thearms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The idealreasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown asingle fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all thechain of events which led up to it but also all the results whichwould follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a wholeanimal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer whohas thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidentsshould be able to accurately state all the other ones, bothbefore and after. We have not yet grasped the results which thereason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the studywhich have baffled all those who have sought a solution by theaid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highestpitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able toutilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and thisin itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of allknowledge, which, even in these days of free education andencyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not
soimpossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledgewhich is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I haveendeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on oneoccasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limitsin a very precise fashion."

  "Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document.Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, Iremember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards themud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistryeccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crimerecords unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, andself-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were themain points of my analysis."

  Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, asI said then, that a man should keep his little brain-atticstocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and therest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where hecan get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one whichhas been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to musterall 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 bededuced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strongpresumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason forleaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all theirhabits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida forthe lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme loveof solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear ofsomeone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesisthat it was fear of someone or something which drove him fromAmerica. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that byconsidering the formidable letters which were received by himselfand his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of thoseletters?"

  "The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and thethird 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 thatthe probability--the strong probability--is that the writer wason board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In thecase of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat andits 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 manor men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always sendtheir singular warning or token before them when starting upontheir mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the signwhen it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in asteamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter.But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that thoseseven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat whichbrought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought thewriter."

  "It is possible."

  "More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadlyurgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw tocaution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time whichit would take the senders to travel the distance. But this onecomes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay."

  "Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentlesspersecution?"

  "The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vitalimportance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I thinkthat it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them.A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a wayas to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several init, and they must have been men 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 anindividual and becomes the badge of a society."

  "But of what society?"

  "Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward andsinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"

  "I never have."

  Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here itis," said he presently:

  "'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance tothe sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secretsociety was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in theSouthern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed localbranches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee,Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power wasused for political purposes, principally for the terrorising ofthe negro voters and the murdering and driving from the countryof those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usuallypreceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantasticbut generally recognised shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in someparts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving thisthe victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or mightfly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death wouldunfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange andunforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of thesociety, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly acase upon record where any man succeeded in braving it withimpunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to theperpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spiteof the efforts of the United States government and of the betterclasses of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there havebeen sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.'

  "You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "thatthe sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with thedisappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It maywell have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and hisfamily have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track.You can understand that this register and diary may implicatesome of the first men in the South, and that there may be manywho 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, 'sentthe pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning tothem. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, orleft the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, asinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may letsome light into this dark place, and I believe that the onlychance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I havetold him. There is nothing more to be said or to be doneto-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget forhalf an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserableways of our fellow-men."

  It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with asubdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over thegreat city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I camedown.

  "You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, Iforesee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case ofyoung Openshaw's."

  "What steps will you take?" I asked.

  "It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries.I may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

  "You will not go there first?"

  "No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and themaid will bring up your coffee."

  As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table andglanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent achill to my heart.

  "Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

  "Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was itdone?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

  "My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'TragedyNear Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:

  "Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the HDivision, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help anda splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark andstormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, itw
as quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, wasgiven, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body waseventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentlemanwhose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in hispocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham.It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catchthe last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste andthe extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edgeof one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The bodyexhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt thatthe deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident,which should have the effect of calling the attention of theauthorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages."

  We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed andshaken than I had ever seen him.

  "That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a pettyfeeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personalmatter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set myhand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and thatI should send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chairand paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with aflush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping andunclasping of his long thin hands.

  "They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How couldthey have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on thedirect line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was toocrowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson,we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!"

  "To the police?"

  "No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they maytake the flies, but not before."

  All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late inthe evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmeshad not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before heentered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard,and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously,washing it down with a long draught of water.

  "You are hungry," I remarked.

  "Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing sincebreakfast."

  "Nothing?"

  "Not a bite. I had no time to think of it."

  "And how have you succeeded?"

  "Well."

  "You have a clue?"

  "I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall notlong remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilishtrade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!"

  "What do you mean?"

  He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces hesqueezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five andthrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote"S. H. for J. O." Then he sealed it and addressed it to "CaptainJames Calhoun, Barque 'Lone Star,' Savannah, Georgia."

  "That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling."It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure aprecursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him."

  "And who is this Captain Calhoun?"

  "The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first."

  "How did you trace it, then?"

  He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered withdates and names.

  "I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registersand files of the old papers, following the future career of everyvessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in'83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which werereported there during those months. Of these, one, the 'Lone Star,'instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reportedas having cleared from London, the name is that which is given toone of the states of the Union."

  "Texas, I think."

  "I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship musthave an American origin."

  "What then?"

  "I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque'Lone Star' was there in January, '85, my suspicion became acertainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at presentin the port of London."

  "Yes?"

  "The 'Lone Star' had arrived here last week. I went down to theAlbert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river bythe early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wiredto Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, andas the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past theGoodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight."

  "What will you do, then?"

  "Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as Ilearn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others areFinns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three awayfrom the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who hasbeen loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-shipreaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, andthe cable will have informed the police of Savannah that thesethree gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder."

  There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans,and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive theorange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and asresolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and verysevere were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long fornews of the "Lone Star" of Savannah, but none ever reached us. Wedid at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic ashattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the troughof a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that isall which we shall ever know of the fate of the "Lone Star."