PART 1 â The Tragedy of Birlstone Chapter 1 â The Warning
âI am inclined to thinkââ said I.
âI should do so,â Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently.
I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but Iâll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption. âReally, Holmes,â said I severely, âyou are a little trying at times.â
He was too much absorbed with his own thoughts to give any immediate answer to my remonstrance. He leaned upon his hand, with his untasted breakfast before him, and he stared at the slip of paper which he had just drawn from its envelope. Then he took the envelope itself, held it up to the light, and very carefully studied both the exterior and the flap.
âIt is Porlockâs writing,â said he thoughtfully. âI can hardly doubt that it is Porlockâs writing, though I have seen it only twice before. The Greek e with the peculiar top flourish is distinctive. But if it is Porlock, then it must be something of the very first importance.â
He was speaking to himself rather than to me; but my vexation disappeared in the interest which the words awakened.
âWho then is Porlock?â I asked.
âPorlock, Watson, is a nom-de-plume, a mere identification mark; but behind it lies a shifty and evasive personality. In a former letter he frankly informed me that the name was not his own, and defied me ever to trace him among the teeming millions of this great city. Porlock is important, not for himself, but for the great man with whom he is in touch. Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion â anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable: not only formidable, Watson, but sinister â in the highest degree sinister. That is where he comes within my purview. You have heard me speak of Professor Moriarty?â
âThe famous scientific criminal, as famous among crooks asââ
âMy blushes, Watson!â Holmes murmured in a deprecating voice.
âI was about to say, as he is unknown to the public.â
âA touch! A distinct touch!â cried Holmes. âYou are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself. But in calling Moriarty a criminal you are uttering libel in the eyes of the law â and there lie the glory and the wonder of it! The greatest schemer of all time, the organizer of every deviltry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations â thatâs the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your yearâs pension as a solatium for his wounded character. Is he not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid, a book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there was no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Is this a man to traduce? Foul-mouthed doctor and slandered professor â such would be your respective roles! Thatâs genius, Watson. But if I am spared by lesser men, our day will surely come.â
âMay I be there to see!â I exclaimed devoutly. âBut you were speaking of this man Porlock.â
âAh, yes â the so-called Porlock is a link in the chain some little way from its great attachment. Porlock is not quite a sound link â between ourselves. He is the only flaw in that chain so far as I have been able to test it.â
âBut no chain is stronger than its weakest link.â
âExactly, my dear Watson! Hence the extreme importance of Porlock. Led on by some rudimentary aspirations towards right, and encouraged by the judicious stimulation of an occasional ten-pound note sent to him by devious methods, he has once or twice given me advance information which has been of value â that highest value which anticipates and prevents rather than avenges crime. I cannot doubt that, if we had the cipher, we should find that this communication is of the nature that I indicate.â
Again Holmes flattened out the paper upon his unused plate. I rose and, leaning over him, stared down at the curious inscription, which ran as follows:
âWhat do you make of it, Holmes?â
âIt is obviously an attempt to convey secret information.â
âBut what is the use of a cipher message without the cipher?â
âIn this instance, none at all.â
âWhy do you say âin this instanceâ?â
âBecause there are many ciphers which I would read as easily as I do the apocrypha of the agony column: such crude devices amuse the intelligence without fatiguing it. But this is different. It is clearly a reference to the words in a page of some book. Until I am told which page and which book I am powerless.â
âBut why âDouglasâ and âBirlstoneâ?â
âClearly because those are words which were not contained in the page in question.â
âThen why has he not indicated the book?â
âYour native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from inclosing cipher and message in the same envelope. Should it miscarry, you are undone. As it is, both have to go wrong before any harm comes from it. Our second post is now overdue, and I shall be surprised if it does not bring us either a further letter of explanation, or, as is more probable, the very volume to which these figures refer.â
Holmesâs calculation was fulfilled within a very few minutes by the appearance of Billy, the page, with the very letter which we were expecting.
âThe same writing,â remarked Holmes, as he opened the envelope, âand actually signed,â he added in an exultant voice as he unfolded the epistle. âCome, we are getting on, Watson.â His brow clouded, however, as he glanced over the contents.
âDear me, this is very disappointing! I fear, Watson, that all our expectations come to nothing. I trust that the man Porlock will come to no harm.
âDEAR MR. HOLMES [he says]:
âI will go no further in this matter. It is too dangerous â he suspects me. I can see that he suspects me. He came to me quite unexpectedly after I had actually addressed this envelope with the intention of sending you the key to the cipher. I was able to cover it up. If he had seen it, it would have gone hard with me. But I read suspicion in his eyes. Please burn the cipher message, which can now be of no use to you.
âFRED PORLOCK.â
Holmes sat for some little time twisting this letter between his fingers, and frowning, as he stared into the fire.
âAfter all,â he said at last, âthere may be nothing in it. It may be only his guilty conscience. Knowing himself to be a traitor, he may have read the accusation in the otherâs eyes.â
âThe other being, I presume, Professor Moriarty.â
âNo less! When any of that party talk about âHeâ you know whom they mean. There is one predominant âHeâ for all of them.â
âBut what can he do?â
âHum! Thatâs a large question. When you have one of the first brains of Europe up against you, and all the powers of darkness at his back, there are infinite possibilities. Anyhow, Friend Porlock is evidently scared out of his senses â kindly compare the writing in the note to that upon its envelope; which was done, he tells us, before this ill-omened visit. The one is clear and firm. The other hardly legible.â
âWhy did he write at all? Why did he not simply drop it?â
âBecause he feared I would make some inquiry after him in that case, and possibly bring trouble on him.â
âNo doubt,â said I. âOf course.â I had picked up the original cipher message and was bending my brows over it. âItâs pretty maddening to think that an important secret may lie here on this slip of paper, and that it is beyond human power to penetrate it.â
Sherlock Holmes had pushed away his untasted breakfast and lit the unsavoury pipe which was the companion of his deepest meditations. âI wonder!â said he, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. âPerhaps there are points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect. Let us consider the problem in the light of pure reason. This manâs reference is to a book. That is our point of departure.â
âA somewhat vague one.â
âLet us see then if we can narrow it down. As I focus my mind upon it, it seems rather less impenetrable. What indications have we as to this book?â
âNone.â
âWell, well, it is surely not quite so bad as that. The cipher message begins with a large 534, does it not? We may take it as a working hypothesis that 534 is the particular page to which the cipher refers. So our book has already become a LARGE book, which is surely something gained. What other indications have we as to the nature of this large book? The next sign is C2. What do you make of that, Watson?â
âChapter the second, no doubt.â
âHardly that, Watson. You will, I am sure, agree with me that if the page be given, the number of the chapter is immaterial. Also that if page 534 finds us only in the second chapter, the length of the first one must have been really intolerable.â
âColumn!â I cried.
âBrilliant, Watson. You are scintillating this morning. If it is not column, then I am very much deceived. So now, you see, we begin to visualize a large book printed in double columns which are each of a considerable length, since one of the words is numbered in the document as the two hundred and ninety-third. Have we reached the limits of what reason can supply?â
âI fear that we have.â
âSurely you do yourself an injustice. One more coruscation, my dear Watson â yet another brain-wave! Had the volume been an unusual one, he would have sent it to me. Instead of that, he had intended, before his plans were nipped, to send me the clue in this envelope. He says so in his note. This would seem to indicate that the book is one which he thought I would have no difficulty in finding for myself. He had it â and he imagined that I would have it, too. In short, Watson, it is a very common book.â
âWhat you say certainly sounds plausible.â
âSo we have contracted our field of search to a large book, printed in double columns and in common use.â
âThe Bible!â I cried triumphantly.
âGood, Watson, good! But not, if I may say so, quite good enough! Even if I accepted the compliment for myself I could hardly name any volume which would be less likely to lie at the elbow of one of Moriartyâs associates. Besides, the editions of Holy Writ are so numerous that he could hardly suppose that two copies would have the same pagination. This is clearly a book which is standardized. He knows for certain that his page 534 will exactly agree with my page 534.â
âBut very few books would correspond with that.â
âExactly. Therein lies our salvation. Our search is narrowed down to standardized books which anyone may be supposed to possess.â
âBradshaw!â
âThere are difficulties, Watson. The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervous and terse, but limited. The selection of words would hardly lend itself to the sending of general messages. We will eliminate Bradshaw. The dictionary is, I fear, inadmissible for the same reason. What then is left?â
âAn almanac!â
âExcellent, Watson! I am very much mistaken if you have not touched the spot. An almanac! Let us consider the claims of Whitakerâs Almanac. It is in common use. It has the requisite number of pages. It is in double column. Though reserved in its earlier vocabulary, it becomes, if I remember right, quite garrulous towards the end.â He picked the volume from his desk. âHere is page 534, column two, a substantial block of print dealing, I perceive, with the trade and resources of British India. Jot down the words, Watson! Number thirteen is â...