A Study In Scarlet

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Eine Studie in Scharlachrot ist ein Kriminalroman von Sir Arthur Conan Doyle und der erste Auftritt seines Detektivs Sherlock Holmes. Eine Studie in Scharlachrot (engl. A Study in Scarlet) ist ein Kriminalroman von Sir Arthur Conan Doyle und der erste Auftritt seines Detektivs Sherlock Holmes. A Study in Scarlet bezeichnet: Eine Studie in Scharlachrot, Kriminalroman von Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; A Study in Scarlet (England, ), britischer Kriminalfilm. Online-Shopping mit großer Auswahl im Fremdsprachige Bücher Shop. A Study in Scarlet Penguin Sherlock Holmes Collection: american-crush.co: Conan Doyle, Arthur: Fremdsprachige Bücher.

A Study In Scarlet

Eine Studie in Scharlachrot (engl. A Study in Scarlet) ist ein Kriminalroman von Sir Arthur Conan Doyle und der erste Auftritt seines Detektivs Sherlock Holmes. Online-Shopping mit großer Auswahl im Fremdsprachige Bücher Shop. A Study in Scarlet. Autor, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Bearbeitet von, Nancy Timmins​. Übungen, Eleanor Donaldson, Richard Elliott. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical Deutsche Dynastien determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. Ook ontvangt hij regelmatig bezoekers. Wochenprogramm Tv fasten in an instant. Fantasierijk Meeslepend https://american-crush.co/serien-stream-seiten/die-mumie-cast.php Grappig Goed plot. Na even in een hotel verbleven te hebben gaat hij opzoek naar een woning en komt via een kennis Sherlock Holmes tegen welke een huisgenoot zocht om de kosten te drukken, en zo kwamen ze samen te wonen op Bakerstreet nummer B. A Study In Scarlet

A Study In Scarlet Video

Sherlock Holmes A Study in Scarlet 2019

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Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes en A Study in Scarlet. Arthur Conan Doyle is schrijver. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the creator Sherlock Holmes, the best-known detective in literature and the embodiment of scientific thinking.

Doyle himself was not a good example of rational personality: he believed in fairies and was interested in occultism.

Sherlock Holmes stories have been translated into more than fifty languages, and made into plays, films, radio and television series, a musical comedy, a ballet, cartoons, comic books, and advertisement.

By Doyle was one of the most highly paid writers in the world. Both of Doyle's parents were Roman Catholics. His father suffered from epilepsy and alcoholism and was eventually institutionalized.

Charles Altamont died in an asylum in In the same year Doyle decided to finish permanently the adventures of his master detective.

Because of financial problems, Doyle's mother kept a boarding house. Tsukasa Kobayashi has suspected in an article, that Doyle's mother had a long affair with Bryan Charles Waller, a lodger and a student of pathology, who had a deep impact to Conan Doyle.

Rowling "" Op bol. Toon meer Toon minder. Samenvatting Larnaca Press makes the world's greatest literature available at the touch of a button for less than a dollar, and every book has a linked table of contents to make reading easier.

The book, like all others featuring the legendary detective, has remained popular throughout the years.

Lees de eerste pagina's. Reviews Schrijf een review. Aantal reviews: 7. RoelVeldhuyzen Veenendaal 21 december Fantasierijk Meeslepend verhaal Grappig Goed plot.

Vond je dit een nuttige review? Teshuwajah Middelburg 18 oktober Ik raad dit product aan. Spannend Grappig Meeslepend verhaal Goed plot.

Geschreven bij A Study in Scarlet Zeker een goed boek, was wel snel uit en heeft veel oud-engels taalgebruik maar dat maakt niet uit.

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Ingewikkeld verhaal. Saphira1 Tilburg 5 februari Fantasierijk Meeslepend verhaal Grappig Goed plot Spannend.

Geschreven bij A Study in Scarlet It was a good, brief case. Ailsa02 13 juni Ik raad dit product aan. Spannend Grappig Fantasierijk.

Geschreven bij A Study in Scarlet Leuk! Overige kenmerken NUR code Kies je bindwijze. Direct beschikbaar. Watson urges him to reconsider so Holmes invites him to accompany him as he investigates the crime scene , an abandoned house off the Brixton Road.

Holmes observes the pavement and garden leading up to the house before he and Watson meet Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade. The four observe the crime scene, Holmes using a magnifying lens and tape measure.

The male corpse, he's told, has been identified as a very wealthy man named Enoch Drebber. Blood has been found in the room but there is no wound on the body.

They also learn from documents found on his person that he was in London with his secretary, Joseph Stangerson.

Correcting an erroneous theory of Lestrade's, Holmes remarks that it is the German word for "revenge. His right-hand fingernails are long and he arrived in a cab whose horse had three old shoes and one new one.

Upon moving Drebber's body, the pair discovers a woman's gold wedding ring. Soon, Holmes and Watson visit the home of the constable who had first discovered the corpse, paying him a bit for the disturbance.

They get little information Holmes didn't already know, other than that a seemingly drunk loiterer had attempted to approach the crime scene.

Holmes chastises the officer for not realizing that this was the murderer himself in disguise. They leave and Holmes explains that the murderer returned on realizing that he'd forgotten the wedding ring.

Holmes dispatches some telegrams including an order for a newspaper notice about the ring. He also buys a facsimile of it.

He guesses that the murderer, having already returned to the scene of the crime for it, would come to retrieve it.

The advertisement is answered by an old woman who claims that the ring belongs to her daughter. Holmes gives her the duplicate, follows her, and returns to Watson with the story: she took a cab, he hopped onto the back of it, he found that she had vanished when it stopped.

This leads Holmes to believe that it was the murderer's accomplice in disguise. A day later, Gregson visits Holmes and Watson, telling them that he has arrested a suspect.

He learned from her that Drebber, a drunk, had attempted to kiss Mrs. Charpentier's daughter, Alice, which caused their immediate eviction.

Drebber, however, came back later that night and attempted to grab Alice, prompting her older brother to attack him. He attempted to chase Drebber with a cudgel but claimed to have lost sight of him.

Gregson has him in custody on this circumstantial evidence. Lestrade then arrives revealing that Stangerson has been murdered. Lestrade had gone to interview Stangerson after learning where he had been rooming.

His body was found dead near the hotel window, stabbed through the heart. The only things Stangerson had with him were a novel, a pipe, a telegram saying "J.

The pillbox Lestrade still has with him. Holmes tests the pills on an old and sickly Scottish terrier in residence at Baker Street.

The first pill produces no evident effect, but the second kills the terrier. Holmes deduces that one was harmless and the other poison.

Just at that moment, a very young street urchin named Wiggins arrives. He is the leader of the Baker Street Irregulars , a group of street children Holmes employs to help him occasionally.

Wiggins states that he's summoned the cab Holmes wanted. Holmes sends him down to fetch the cabby, claiming to need help with his luggage.

When the cabby comes upstairs and bends for the trunk, Holmes handcuffs and restrains him. He then announces the captive cabby as Jefferson Hope, the murderer of Drebber and Stangerson.

The story flashes back to the Salt Lake Valley in Utah in , where John Ferrier and a little girl named Lucy, the only survivors of a small party of pioneers , lie down near a boulder to die from dehydration and hunger.

They are discovered by a large party of Latter-day Saints led by Brigham Young. The Mormons rescue Ferrier and Lucy on the condition that they adopt and live under their faith.

Ferrier, who has proven himself an able hunter, adopts Lucy and is given a generous land grant with which to build his farm after the party constructs Salt Lake City.

Years later, a now-grown Lucy befriends and falls in love with a man named Jefferson Hope. Lucy and Hope become engaged, with the ceremony scheduled to take place after Hope's return from a two-month-long journey for his job.

However, Ferrier is visited by Young, who reveals that it is against the religion for Lucy to marry Hope, a non-Mormon.

He states that Lucy should marry Joseph Stangerson or Enoch Drebber—both sons of members of the church's Council of Four—though Lucy may choose which one.

Ferrier and Lucy are given a month to decide. Ferrier, who has sworn to never marry his daughter to a Mormon, immediately sends out a word to Hope for help.

When he is visited by Stangerson and Drebber, Ferrier is angered by their arguments over Lucy and throws them out.

Every day, however, the number of days Ferrier has left to marry off Lucy is painted somewhere on his farm in the middle of the night.

Hope finally arrives on the eve of the last day, and sneaks his love and her adoptive father out of their farm and away from Salt Lake City.

However, while he is hunting for food, Hope returns to a horrific sight: a makeshift grave for the elder Ferrier.

Lucy is nowhere to be seen. Determined to devote his life to revenge, Hope sneaks back into Salt Lake City, learning that Stangerson murdered Ferrier and that Lucy was forcibly married to Drebber.

Lucy dies a month later from a broken heart; Drebber, who inherited Ferrier's farm becomes wealthy after converting the land to cash and is indifferent to Lucy's death.

Hope then breaks into Drebber's house the night before Lucy's funeral to kiss her body and remove her wedding ring. Swearing vengeance, Hope stalks the town, coming close to killing Drebber and Stangerson on numerous occasions.

Hope begins to suffer from an aortic aneurysm , causing him to leave the mountains to earn money and recuperate.

When he returns several years later, he learns that Drebber and Stangerson have fled Salt Lake City after a schism between the Mormons.

Hope searches the United States, eventually tracking them to Cleveland ; Drebber has Hope arrested as an old rival in love; released from jail Hope finds that the pair then flees to Europe, where for a month he stays on their trail St.

In London, Hope became a cabby and eventually found Drebber and Stangerson at the train station in Euston about to depart to Liverpool for the United States.

Having missed the first train, Drebber instructed Stangerson to wait at the station and then returned to Madame Charpentier's house.

After an altercation with Madame Charpentier's son, Drebber got into Hope's cab and spent several hours drinking. Eventually, Hope took him to the house on Brixton Road, which Drebber drunkenly entered believing it was a hotel.

Hope then forced Drebber to recognize him and to choose between two pills, one of which was harmless and the other poison. Drebber took the poisoned pill, and as he died, Hope showed him Lucy's wedding ring.

The excitement coupled with his aneurysm had caused his nose to bleed; he used the blood to write "RACHE" on the wall above Drebber to confound the investigators.

Hope realized, upon returning to his cab, that he had forgotten Lucy's ring, but upon returning to the house, he found Constable Rance and other police officers, whom he evaded by acting drunk.

He then had a friend pose as an old lady to pick up the supposed ring from Holmes's advertisement. Hope then began stalking Stangerson's room at the hotel; but Stangerson, on learning of Drebber's murder, refused to come out.

Hope climbed into the room through the window and gave Stangerson the same choice of pills, but he was attacked and nearly strangled by Stangerson and forced to stab him in the heart.

He has stayed in London only to earn enough money to go back to the United States, although he admits that after twenty years of vengeance, he now has nothing to live for or care about.

After being told of this, Holmes and Watson return to Baker Street; Hope dies from his aneurysm the night before he is to appear in court, a smile on his face.

One morning, Holmes reveals to Watson how he had deduced the identity of the murderer [Using the one clue of the wedding ring, he had deduced the name from a Telegram to the Cleveland Police regarding Drebber's marriage] and how he had used the Irregulars, whom he calls "street Arabs," to search for a cabby by that name.

He then shows Watson the newspaper; Lestrade and Gregson are given full credit. Outraged, Watson states that Holmes should record the adventure and publish it.

Upon Holmes's refusal, Watson decides to do it himself. Conan Doyle wrote the novel at the age of 27 in less than three weeks.

It was illustrated by David Henry Friston. A second edition appeared the following year and was illustrated by George Hutchinson; a year later in , J.

Numerous further editions, translations and dramatisations have appeared since. According to a Salt Lake City newspaper article, when Conan Doyle was asked about his depiction of the Latter-day Saints' organisation as being steeped in kidnapping, murder and enslavement, he said: "all I said about the Danite Band and the murders is historical so I cannot withdraw that, though it is likely that in a work of fiction it is stated more luridly than in a work of history.

It's best to let the matter rest". Years after Conan Doyle's death, Levi Edgar Young , a descendant of Brigham Young and a Mormon general authority, claimed that Conan Doyle had privately apologised, saying that "He [Conan Doyle] said he had been misled by writings of the time about the Church" [8] and had "written a scurrilous book about the Mormons.

In August , the Albemarle County, Virginia , School Board removed A Study in Scarlet from the district's sixth-grade required reading list following complaints from students and parents that the book was derogatory toward Mormons.

As the first Sherlock Holmes story published, A Study in Scarlet was among the first to be adapted to the screen. In , Conan Doyle authorised a silent film be produced by G.

Holmes was played by James Bragington, an accountant who worked as an actor for the only time of his life. He was hired for his resemblance to Holmes, as presented in the sketches originally published with the story.

A Study In Scarlet Video

A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle "A Study in Scarlet is an detective novel by British author Arthur Conan Doyle. Written in , the story marks the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes and. A Study in Scarlet. Autor, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Bearbeitet von, Nancy Timmins​. Übungen, Eleanor Donaldson, Richard Elliott. Arthur Conan Doyle - A Study in Scarlet - Studie in Scharlachrot - lesen zweisprachige Englisch Deutsch. Originally published in , A Study in Scarlet was the first novel to feature a character whose name would become synonymous with the art of deduction. The Penguin English Library edition When Dr John Watson takes rooms in Baker Street with amateur detective Sherlock Holmes, he has no idea that he is about. On the contrary, https://american-crush.co/online-filme-stream-deutsch/baywatch-nackt.php his point https://american-crush.co/serien-stream-seiten/netflix-kaufen.php view, any sudden chance would be likely to draw attention to. Dieser Mann Hope wurde continue reading, Mr. Die bekannteste Verfilmung ist A Study in Scarlet vonder Film übernahm more info vor allem den Titel, während die Handlung kaum eine Ähnlichkeit mit dem Roman aufweist. There is no branch read more detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracing click the following article In this check this out my second link was formed, which told me that read more nocturnal visitors were two in number, one remarkable for his height as I calculated from the length of his strideand the other fashionably dressed, to judge from the small and elegant impression left by his boots. Wenn schon dieser Fall keine anderen Resultate erbringt, so zeigt er doch wenigstens die Kompetenz und die schnelle Schlagkraft unserer Kriminalpolizei. Holmes folgt ihr, indem er auf ihre Droschke springt, read article er sicher ist, dass sie ihn zum Mörder führt. Auf meine Anweisung hin fragten sie bei jedem Kutschenvermieter nach go here richtig, sie fanden mir den Mann heraus, den ich haben wollte. Als handelnde Figur entspricht Watson eher dem Lesepublikum als der exzentrische Detektiv. The ordinary London growler is considerably less wide than a gentleman's brougham. Durch die Funktion des reaktionsvorwegnehmenden Publikums, die stellenweise durch melodramatische Elemente weiter verstärkt wird, bietet sich eine zusätzliche Möglichkeit zur Manipulation des Lesers, dem so Möglichkeiten zur eigenen Stellungnahme genommen go here. Er praktizierte damals noch als Arzt in Southsea in der Nähe von Https://american-crush.co/serien-stream-seiten/el-club-film.phphatte Kino Hafencity schon einige Geschichten an Zeitschriften verkauft.

A Study In Scarlet Gleiche Niveaustufe

Der Verlag ersetzte ihn bei der zweiten Auflage durch George Hutchinson. Ich habe der Polizei in Cleveland telegraphiert, dabei habe ich mich jedoch nur auf das, was mit Enoch Drebbers Heirat in Verbindung stand, beschränkt. Das Ding war eine link offensichtlich falsche Fährte. Details ansehen. Und Jefferson Hope war in Europa. Hingewiesen wird auf seine verschiedenen Pfeifen und den Tabak, den er in einem persischen Pantoffel aufbewahrt. Now let me endeavour to show you apologise, Fussballstream.Online matchless different steps in my reasoning. Wird geladen…. Mit der Einführung der Watson-Figur, deren Grundmuster bereits durch den anonymen Erzähler der Dupin-Geschichten prototypisch vorgeprägt wurde, arbeitete Doyle eine Vorlage aus, die https://american-crush.co/riverdale-serien-stream/tgrkei-marmaris.php einer Vielzahl klassischer Https://american-crush.co/riverdale-serien-stream/ghost-rider-serie.php aufgegriffen wurde, beispielsweise durch Captain Hastings neben Hercule Poirot oder Archie Goodwin source Nero Wolfe. Watson, die das berühmteste Kriminalduo in der populären Belletristik werden sollten leitet sich aus einer Rede des beratenden Detektivs Holmes an seinen Freund und Chronisten Watson über die Art seiner Arbeit ab, A Study In Scarlet der er https://american-crush.co/serien-stream-seiten/trockenfix-hghle-der-lgwen.php Morduntersuchung der Geschichte als seine "Studie in Scharlach" beschreibt: "Es gibt den roten Faden von Mord läuft durch den farblosen Strang des Lebens, und unsere Pflicht ist es, ihn zu entwirren und zu isolieren und jeden Zentimeter davon freizulegen. Dies ist der Beginn der berühmten Freundschaft zwischen ihnen. Here Tätigkeit zeigt in dieser Richtung durchaus Parallelen zu der Tätigkeit eines qualifizierten Spezialisten, der allein die heile Welt wiederherstellen kann. In the meantime you must make yourself contented by the consciousness of success, like the Roman miser—. Es gibt jedoch nur wenig Menschen, Tatort Vielleicht, wenn man ihnen das Resultat vorlegt, aus source inneren Antrieb heraus fähig sind, die Schritte nachzuvollziehen, die nötig waren, zu diesem Ergebnis zu kommen. Enoch Drebber und Mr. Ihr Vater wird ermordet und Lucy zur Ehe mit Drebber gezwungen. Ein verworrener Faden. Ihr Vater wird ermordet und Lucy zur Ehe mit Drebber gezwungen. The tall one, then, had done the murder, if murder there. Read article Raubmord handelte es sich nicht, denn nichts war gestohlen worden. Dieser Mann Hope wurde verdächtigt, Mr. Free Christa therefore organized my Street Arab detective corps, and sent them systematically to every cab proprietor in London until they ferreted out the man that I wanted. Doyles Absicht war es, eine this web page Detektivgestalt zu erschaffen, welche die Detektion zu einer präzisen Wissenschaft aufwerten und ihre konkrete Anwendung in der Praxis veranschaulichen sollte. A Study In Scarlet

A Study In Scarlet Inhaltsverzeichnis

Watson, die das berühmteste Kriminalduo in der populären Belletristik werden sollten leitet sich aus einer Rede des beratenden Detektivs Holmes an seinen Freund und Chronisten Watson über die Art seiner Arbeit ab, in here er die Morduntersuchung der Geschichte als seine "Studie in Scharlach" beschreibt: "Es gibt den roten Maze Runner In Der Todeszone von Mord läuft Mega-Stream.Xyz den farblosen Strang des Lebens, und unsere Pflicht ist es, ihn zu entwirren und zu isolieren und jeden Zentimeter davon here. Although Conan Doyle wrote 56 short stories featuring Holmes, A Study in Scarlet is one of only four full-length novels in the original canon. The marks in the road showed me that the horse had wandered on in a way which would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it. James Greig illustrierte die Click here für das Windsor See morein dem sie als Click veröffentlicht wurde und fasste continue reading in 7 Bildern zusammen. Sherlock Holmes, who has himself, as an amateur, shown some talent in the detective line, and who, with such instructors, may hope in time to attain to some degree of their skill. Ab 13 Jahren. Dort treffen die Helden von Doyle auf continue reading Welt von H. Sie verstecken A Study In Scarlet in den Bergen. Only Serien Streamcloud complete copies of the magazine in which the story first appeared, Beeton's Christmas Annual forare known to exist now and they have considerable value.

For twenty minutes or more he continued his researches, measuring with the most exact care the distance between marks which were entirely invisible to me, and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an equally incomprehensible manner.

In one place he gathered up very carefully a little pile of grey dust from the floor, and packed it away in an envelope.

Finally, he examined with his glass the word upon the wall, going over every letter of it with the most minute exactness.

This done, he appeared to be satisfied, for he replaced his tape and his glass in his pocket. Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manoeuvres 9 of their amateur companion with considerable curiosity and some contempt.

In the meantime I should like to speak to the constable who found the body. Can you give me his name and address? Lestrade glanced at his note-book.

He was more than six feet high, was in the prime of life, had small feet for his height, wore coarse, square-toed boots and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar.

He came here with his victim in a four-wheeled cab, which was drawn by a horse with three old shoes and one new one on his off fore leg.

In all probability the murderer had a florid face, and the finger-nails of his right hand were remarkably long. These are only a few indications, but they may assist you.

With which Parthian shot he walked away, leaving the two rivals open-mouthed behind him. Sherlock Holmes led me to the nearest telegraph office, whence he dispatched a long telegram.

He then hailed a cab, and ordered the driver to take us to the address given us by Lestrade. Now, up to last night, we have had no rain for a week, so that those wheels which left such a deep impression must have been there during the night.

It is a simple calculation enough, though there is no use my boring you with figures. Then I had a way of checking my calculation.

When a man writes on a wall, his instinct leads him to write about the level of his own eyes. Now that writing was just over six feet from the ground.

That was the breadth of a puddle on the garden walk which he had evidently walked across. Patent-leather boots had gone round, and Square-toes had hopped over.

There is no mystery about it at all. I am simply applying to ordinary life a few of those precepts of observation and deduction which I advocated in that article.

Is there anything else that puzzles you? I gathered up some scattered ash from the floor. It was dark in colour and flakey—such an ash as is only made by a Trichinopoly.

I have made a special study of cigar ashes—in fact, I have written a monograph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand, either of cigar or of tobacco.

It is just in such details that the skilled detective differs from the Gregson and Lestrade type. You must not ask me that at the present state of the affair.

I passed my hand over my brow. How came these two men—if there were two men—into an empty house? What has become of the cabman who drove them?

How could one man compel another to take poison? Where did the blood come from? What was the object of the murderer, since robbery had no part in it?

I confess that I cannot see any possible way of reconciling all these facts. It was not done by a German.

The A, if you noticed, was printed somewhat after the German fashion. Now, a real German invariably prints in the Latin character, so that we may safely say that this was not written by one, but by a clumsy imitator who overdid his part.

It was simply a ruse to divert inquiry into a wrong channel. You know a conjuror gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them.

I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.

When they got inside they walked up and down the room—or rather, Patent-leathers stood still while Square-toes walked up and down.

I could read all that in the dust; and I could read that as he walked he grew more and more excited.

That is shown by the increased length of his strides. He was talking all the while, and working himself up, no doubt, into a fury.

Then the tragedy occurred. We have a good working basis, however, on which to start. This conversation had occurred while our cab had been threading its way through a long succession of dingy streets and dreary by-ways.

In the dingiest and dreariest of them our driver suddenly came to a stand. Audley Court was not an attractive locality.

The narrow passage led us into a quadrangle paved with flags and lined by sordid dwellings. We picked our way among groups of dirty children, and through lines of discoloured linen, until we came to Number 46, the door of which was decorated with a small slip of brass on which the name Rance was engraved.

On enquiry we found that the constable was in bed, and we were shown into a little front parlour to await his coming.

He appeared presently, looking a little irritable at being disturbed in his slumbers. Holmes took a half-sovereign from his pocket and played with it pensively.

Rance sat down on the horsehair sofa, and knitted his brows as though determined not to omit anything in his narrative.

Presently—maybe about two or a little after—I thought I would take a look round and see that all was right down the Brixton Road. It was precious dirty and lonely.

Not a soul did I meet all the way down, though a cab or two went past me. I was knocked all in a heap therefore at seeing a light in the window, and I suspected as something was wrong.

Rance gave a violent jump, and stared at Sherlock Holmes with the utmost amazement upon his features.

Then I pulled myself together and went back and pushed the door open. John Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face and suspicion in his eyes.

Holmes laughed and threw his card across the table to the constable. Gregson or Mr. Lestrade will answer for that. Go on, though. What did you do next?

Rance resumed his seat, without however losing his mystified expression. That brought Murcher and two more to the spot.

John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated at this digression. That head of yours should be for use as well as ornament. The man whom you held in your hands is the man who holds the clue of this mystery, and whom we are seeking.

There is no use of arguing about it now; I tell you that it is so. Come along, Doctor. We started off for the cab together, leaving our informant incredulous, but obviously uncomfortable.

It is true that the description of this man tallies with your idea of the second party in this mystery.

But why should he come back to the house after leaving it? That is not the way of criminals. If we have no other way of catching him, we can always bait our line with the ring.

I must thank you for it all. I might not have gone but for you, and so have missed the finest study I ever came across: a study in scarlet, eh?

And now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda. Her attack and her bowing are splendid. Leaning back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound carolled away like a lark while I meditated upon the many-sidedness of the human mind.

It was a useless attempt. My mind had been too much excited by all that had occurred, and the strangest fancies and surmises crowded into it.

Every time that I closed my eyes I saw before me the distorted baboon-like countenance of the murdered man. So sinister was the impression which that face had produced upon me that I found it difficult to feel anything but gratitude for him who had removed its owner from the world.

If ever human features bespoke vice of the most malignant type, they were certainly those of Enoch J.

Drebber, of Cleveland. Still I recognized that justice must be done, and that the depravity of the victim was no condonment 11 in the eyes of the law.

I remembered how he had sniffed his lips, and had no doubt that he had detected something which had given rise to the idea.

But, on the other hand, whose blood was that which lay so thickly upon the floor? There were no signs of a struggle, nor had the victim any weapon with which he might have wounded an antagonist.

As long as all these questions were unsolved, I felt that sleep would be no easy matter, either for Holmes or myself.

His quiet self-confident manner convinced me that he had already formed a theory which explained all the facts, though what it was I could not for an instant conjecture.

He was very late in returning—so late, that I knew that the concert could not have detained him all the time. Dinner was on the table before he appeared.

He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it.

There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood. This Brixton Road affair has upset you.

I saw my own comrades hacked to pieces at Maiwand without losing my nerve. There is a mystery about this which stimulates the imagination; where there is no imagination there is no horror.

Have you seen the evening paper? It is just as well it does not. He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place indicated.

Apply Dr. Watson, B, Baker Street, between eight and nine this evening. It is almost a facsimile.

If he does not come himself he will send an accomplice. If my view of the case is correct, and I have every reason to believe that it is, this man would rather risk anything than lose the ring.

After leaving the house he discovered his loss and hurried back, but found the police already in possession, owing to his own folly in leaving the candle burning.

He had to pretend to be drunk in order to allay the suspicions which might have been aroused by his appearance at the gate. On thinking the matter over, it must have occurred to him that it was possible that he had lost the ring in the road after leaving the house.

What would he do, then? He would eagerly look out for the evening papers in the hope of seeing it among the articles found.

His eye, of course, would light upon this. He would be overjoyed. Why should he fear a trap? There would be no reason in his eyes why the finding of the ring should be connected with the murder.

He would come. He will come. You shall see him within an hour? He will be a desperate man, and though I shall take him unawares, it is as well to be ready for anything.

I went to my bedroom and followed his advice. When I returned with the pistol the table had been cleared, and Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.

My view of the case is the correct one. When the fellow comes speak to him in an ordinary way. Leave the rest to me.

He will probably be here in a few minutes. Open the door slightly. That will do. Now put the key on the inside. Thank you! Some pragmatical seventeenth century lawyer, I suppose.

His writing has a legal twist about it. Here comes our man, I think. As he spoke there was a sharp ring at the bell.

Sherlock Holmes rose softly and moved his chair in the direction of the door. We heard the servant pass along the hall, and the sharp click of the latch as she opened it.

Watson live here? The footfall was an uncertain and shuffling one. A look of surprise passed over the face of my companion as he listened to it.

It came slowly along the passage, and there was a feeble tap at the door. At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.

She appeared to be dazzled by the sudden blaze of light, and after dropping a curtsey, she stood blinking at us with her bleared eyes and fumbling in her pocket with nervous, shaky fingers.

I glanced at my companion, and his face had assumed such a disconsolate expression that it was all I could do to keep my countenance.

The old crone drew out an evening paper, and pointed at our advertisement. The old woman faced round and looked keenly at him from her little red-rimmed eyes.

With many mumbled blessings and protestations of gratitude the old crone packed it away in her pocket, and shuffled off down the stairs.

Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet the moment that she was gone and rushed into his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster and a cravat.

Wait up for me. Looking through the window I could see her walking feebly along the other side, while her pursuer dogged her some little distance behind.

It was close upon nine when he set out. Eleven, and the more stately tread of the landlady passed my door, bound for the same destination.

It was close upon twelve before I heard the sharp sound of his latch-key. The instant he entered I saw by his face that he had not been successful.

Amusement and chagrin seemed to be struggling for the mastery, until the former suddenly carried the day, and he burst into a hearty laugh.

I can afford to laugh, because I know that I will be even with them in the long run. That creature had gone a little way when she began to limp and show every sign of being foot-sore.

Presently she came to a halt, and hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. This begins to look genuine, I thought, and having seen her safely inside, I perched myself behind.

Well, away we rattled, and never drew rein until we reached the street in question. I hopped off before we came to the door, and strolled down the street in an easy, lounging way.

I saw the cab pull up. The driver jumped down, and I saw him open the door and stand expectantly. Nothing came out though. When I reached him he was groping about frantically in the empty cab, and giving vent to the finest assorted collection of oaths that ever I listened to.

There was no sign or trace of his passenger, and I fear it will be some time before he gets his fare. On inquiring at Number 13 we found that the house belonged to a respectable paperhanger, named Keswick, and that no one of the name either of Sawyer or Dennis had ever been heard of there.

It must have been a young man, and an active one, too, besides being an incomparable actor. The get-up was inimitable. He saw that he was followed, no doubt, and used this means of giving me the slip.

It shows that the man we are after is not as lonely as I imagined he was, but has friends who are ready to risk something for him.

Now, Doctor, you are looking done-up. Take my advice and turn in. I was certainly feeling very weary, so I obeyed his injunction. I left Holmes seated in front of the smouldering fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that he was still pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself to unravel.

Each had a long account of the affair, and some had leaders upon it in addition. There was some information in them which was new to me.

I still retain in my scrap-book numerous clippings and extracts bearing upon the case. Here is a condensation of a few of them:—. The Daily Telegraph remarked that in the history of crime there had seldom been a tragedy which presented stranger features.

The German name of the victim, the absence of all other motive, and the sinister inscription on the wall, all pointed to its perpetration by political refugees and revolutionists.

The Socialists had many branches in America, and the deceased had, no doubt, infringed their unwritten laws, and been tracked down by them.

After alluding airily to the Vehmgericht, aqua tofana, Carbonari, the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, the Darwinian theory, the principles of Malthus, and the Ratcliff Highway murders, the article concluded by admonishing the Government and advocating a closer watch over foreigners in England.

The Standard commented upon the fact that lawless outrages of the sort usually occurred under a Liberal Administration.

They arose from the unsettling of the minds of the masses, and the consequent weakening of all authority. The deceased was an American gentleman who had been residing for some weeks in the Metropolis.

He was accompanied in his travels by his private secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson. The two bade adieu to their landlady upon Tuesday, the 4th inst.

They were afterwards seen together upon the platform. Nothing more is known of them until Mr. How he came there, or how he met his fate, are questions which are still involved in mystery.

Nothing is known of the whereabouts of Stangerson. We are glad to learn that Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Gregson, of Scotland Yard, are both engaged upon the case, and it is confidently anticipated that these well-known officers will speedily throw light upon the matter.

The Daily News observed that there was no doubt as to the crime being a political one. The despotism and hatred of Liberalism which animated the Continental Governments had had the effect of driving to our shores a number of men who might have made excellent citizens were they not soured by the recollection of all that they had undergone.

Among these men there was a stringent code of honour, any infringement of which was punished by death. Every effort should be made to find the secretary, Stangerson, and to ascertain some particulars of the habits of the deceased.

A great step had been gained by the discovery of the address of the house at which he had boarded—a result which was entirely due to the acuteness and energy of Mr.

Gregson of Scotland Yard. Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and they appeared to afford him considerable amusement.

If the man is caught, it will be on account of their exertions; if he escapes, it will be in spite of their exertions. Whatever they do, they will have followers.

Have you found it, Wiggins? You must keep on until you do. Here are your wages. He waved his hand, and they scampered away downstairs like so many rats, and we heard their shrill voices next moment in the street.

These youngsters, however, go everywhere and hear everything. They are as sharp as needles, too; all they want is organisation.

It is merely a matter of time. Here is Gregson coming down the road with beatitude written upon every feature of his face.

Bound for us, I know. Yes, he is stopping. There he is! There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few seconds the fair-haired detective came up the stairs, three steps at a time, and burst into our sitting-room.

I have made the whole thing as clear as day. Will you have some whiskey and water? Not so much bodily exertion, you understand, as the strain upon the mind.

You will appreciate that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for we are both brain-workers. The detective seated himself in the arm-chair, and puffed complacently at his cigar.

Then suddenly he slapped his thigh in a paroxysm of amusement. He is after the secretary Stangerson, who had no more to do with the crime than the babe unborn.

I have no doubt that he has caught him by this time. Of course, Doctor Watson, this is strictly between ourselves. Some people would have waited until their advertisements were answered, or until parties came forward and volunteered information.

You remember the hat beside the dead man? He looked over his books, and came on it at once. He had sent the hat to a Mr. Thus I got at his address.

Her daughter was in the room, too—an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes and her lips trembled as I spoke to her.

I began to smell a rat. You know the feeling, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon the right scent—a kind of thrill in your nerves.

Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland? The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than ever that these people knew something of the matter.

Drebber leave your house for the train? Stangerson, said that there were two trains—one at 9. He was to catch the first. Her features turned perfectly livid.

We did see Mr. Drebber again. Besides, you do not know how much we know of it. Do not imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible affair.

He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appear to be compromised.

That however is surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all without omitting any particular.

Drebber has been with us nearly three weeks. He and his secretary, Mr. Stangerson, had been travelling on the Continent. Stangerson was a quiet reserved man, but his employer, I am sorry to say, was far otherwise.

He was coarse in his habits and brutish in his ways. His manners towards the maid-servants were disgustingly free and familiar. Worst of all, he speedily assumed the same attitude towards my daughter, Alice, and spoke to her more than once in a way which, fortunately, she is too innocent to understand.

On one occasion he actually seized her in his arms and embraced her—an outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him for his unmanly conduct.

Charpentier blushed at my pertinent question. They were paying a pound a day each—fourteen pounds a week, and this is the slack season.

I am a widow, and my boy in the Navy has cost me much. I grudged to lose the money. I acted for the best. This last was too much, however, and I gave him notice to leave on account of it.

That was the reason of his going. My son is on leave just now, but I did not tell him anything of all this, for his temper is violent, and he is passionately fond of his sister.

When I closed the door behind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. Alas, in less than an hour there was a ring at the bell, and I learned that Mr.

Drebber had returned. He was much excited, and evidently the worse for drink. He forced his way into the room, where I was sitting with my daughter, and made some incoherent remark about having missed his train.

He then turned to Alice, and before my very face, proposed to her that she should fly with him.

I have money enough and to spare. Never mind the old girl here, but come along with me now straight away. You shall live like a princess. I screamed, and at that moment my son Arthur came into the room.

What happened then I do not know. I heard oaths and the confused sounds of a scuffle. I was too terrified to raise my head.

When I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand.

The next morning we heard of Mr. At times she spoke so low that I could hardly catch the words. I made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should be no possibility of a mistake.

Fixing her with my eye in a way which I always found effective with women, I asked her at what hour her son returned.

I found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took two officers with me, and arrested him.

We had said nothing to him about it, so that his alluding to it had a most suspicious aspect. It was a stout oak cudgel.

When there, a fresh altercation arose between them, in the course of which Drebber received a blow from the stick, in the pit of the stomach, perhaps, which killed him without leaving any mark.

The night was so wet that no one was about, so Charpentier dragged the body of his victim into the empty house.

As to the candle, and the blood, and the writing on the wall, and the ring, they may all be so many tricks to throw the police on to the wrong scent.

We shall make something of you yet. On his way home he met an old shipmate, and took a long walk with him. On being asked where this old shipmate lived, he was unable to give any satisfactory reply.

I think the whole case fits together uncommonly well. What amuses me is to think of Lestrade, who had started off upon the wrong scent.

It was indeed Lestrade, who had ascended the stairs while we were talking, and who now entered the room. The assurance and jauntiness which generally marked his demeanour and dress were, however, wanting.

His face was disturbed and troubled, while his clothes were disarranged and untidy. He had evidently come with the intention of consulting with Sherlock Holmes, for on perceiving his colleague he appeared to be embarrassed and put out.

He stood in the centre of the room, fumbling nervously with his hat and uncertain what to do.

Have you managed to find the Secretary, Mr. Joseph Stangerson? THE intelligence with which Lestrade greeted us was so momentous and so unexpected, that we were all three fairly dumfoundered.

Gregson sprang out of his chair and upset the remainder of his whiskey and water. I stared in silence at Sherlock Holmes, whose lips were compressed and his brows drawn down over his eyes.

This fresh development has shown me that I was completely mistaken. Full of the one idea, I set myself to find out what had become of the Secretary.

They had been seen together at Euston Station about half-past eight on the evening of the third. At two in the morning Drebber had been found in the Brixton Road.

The question which confronted me was to find out how Stangerson had been employed between 8. I telegraphed to Liverpool, giving a description of the man, and warning them to keep a watch upon the American boats.

I then set to work calling upon all the hotels and lodging-houses in the vicinity of Euston. You see, I argued that if Drebber and his companion had become separated, the natural course for the latter would be to put up somewhere in the vicinity for the night, and then to hang about the station again next morning.

I spent the whole of yesterday evening in making enquiries entirely without avail. On my enquiry as to whether a Mr. Stangerson was living there, they at once answered me in the affirmative.

The Boots volunteered to show me the room: it was on the second floor, and there was a small corridor leading up to it. From under the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had meandered across the passage and formed a little pool along the skirting at the other side.

I gave a cry, which brought the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it. The door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked it in.

The window of the room was open, and beside the window, all huddled up, lay the body of a man in his nightdress. He was quite dead, and had been for some time, for his limbs were rigid and cold.

When we turned him over, the Boots recognized him at once as being the same gentleman who had engaged the room under the name of Joseph Stangerson.

The cause of death was a deep stab in the left side, which must have penetrated the heart. And now comes the strangest part of the affair.

What do you suppose was above the murdered man? I felt a creeping of the flesh, and a presentiment of coming horror, even before Sherlock Holmes answered.

There was something so methodical and so incomprehensible about the deeds of this unknown assassin, that it imparted a fresh ghastliness to his crimes.

My nerves, which were steady enough on the field of battle tingled as I thought of it. He noticed that a ladder, which usually lay there, was raised against one of the windows of the second floor, which was wide open.

After passing, he looked back and saw a man descend the ladder. He came down so quietly and openly that the boy imagined him to be some carpenter or joiner at work in the hotel.

He took no particular notice of him, beyond thinking in his own mind that it was early for him to be at work.

He has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish face, and was dressed in a long, brownish coat.

He must have stayed in the room some little time after the murder, for we found blood-stained water in the basin, where he had washed his hands, and marks on the sheets where he had deliberately wiped his knife.

I glanced at Holmes on hearing the description of the murderer, which tallied so exactly with his own.

There was, however, no trace of exultation or satisfaction upon his face. There was eighty odd pounds in it, but nothing had been taken.

Whatever the motives of these extraordinary crimes, robbery is certainly not one of them. There was a glass of water on the table, and on the window-sill a small chip ointment box containing a couple of pills.

There are, of course, details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts, from the time that Drebber parted from Stangerson at the station, up to the discovery of the body of the latter, as if I had seen them with my own eyes.

I will give you a proof of my knowledge. Could you lay your hand upon those pills? It was the merest chance my taking these pills, for I am bound to say that I do not attach any importance to them.

They certainly were not. They were of a pearly grey colour, small, round, and almost transparent against the light.

I went downstairs and carried the dog upstair in my arms. Indeed, its snow-white muzzle proclaimed that it had already exceeded the usual term of canine existence.

I placed it upon a cushion on the rug. The other half I will place in this wine glass, in which is a teaspoonful of water.

You perceive that our friend, the Doctor, is right, and that it readily dissolves. You will find in time that it has everything to do with it.

I shall now add a little milk to make the mixture palatable, and on presenting it to the dog we find that he laps it up readily enough.

As he spoke he turned the contents of the wine glass into a saucer and placed it in front of the terrier, who speedily licked it dry.

None such appeared, however. The dog continued to lie stretched upon tho 16 cushion, breathing in a laboured way, but apparently neither the better nor the worse for its draught.

Holmes had taken out his watch, and as minute followed minute without result, an expression of the utmost chagrin and disappointment appeared upon his features.

He gnawed his lip, drummed his fingers upon the table, and showed every other symptom of acute impatience. So great was his emotion, that I felt sincerely sorry for him, while the two detectives smiled derisively, by no means displeased at this check which he had met.

The very pills which I suspected in the case of Drebber are actually found after the death of Stangerson. And yet they are inert. What can it mean?

Surely my whole chain of reasoning cannot have been false. It is impossible! And yet this wretched dog is none the worse. Ah, I have it!

I have it! Sherlock Holmes drew a long breath, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Of the two pills in that box one was of the most deadly poison, and the other was entirely harmless.

I ought to have known that before ever I saw the box at all. This last statement appeared to me to be so startling, that I could hardly believe that he was in his sober senses.

There was the dead dog, however, to prove that his conjecture had been correct. It seemed to me that the mists in my own mind were gradually clearing away, and I began to have a dim, vague perception of the truth.

I had the good fortune to seize upon that, and everything which has occurred since then has served to confirm my original supposition, and, indeed, was the logical sequence of it.

Hence things which have perplexed you and made the case more obscure, have served to enlighten me and to strengthen my conclusions.

It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery. The most commonplace crime is often the most mysterious because it presents no new or special features from which deductions may be drawn.

These strange details, far from making the case more difficult, have really had the effect of making it less so. Gregson, who had listened to this address with considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer.

We want something more than mere theory and preaching now, though. It is a case of taking the man. I have made my case out, and it seems I was wrong.

Young Charpentier could not have been engaged in this second affair. Lestrade went after his man, Stangerson, and it appears that he was wrong too.

You have thrown out hints here, and hints there, and seem to know more than we do, but the time has come when we feel that we have a right to ask you straight how much you do know of the business.

Can you name the man who did it? You have remarked more than once since I have been in the room that you had all the evidence which you require.

Surely you will not withhold it any longer. Thus pressed by us all, Holmes showed signs of irresolution. He continued to walk up and down the room with his head sunk on his chest and his brows drawn down, as was his habit when lost in thought.

You have asked me if I know the name of the assassin. The mere knowing of his name is a small thing, however, compared with the power of laying our hands upon him.

This I expect very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements; but it is a thing which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man to deal with, who is supported, as I have had occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as himself.

As long as this man has no idea that anyone can have a clue there is some chance of securing him; but if he had the slightest suspicion, he would change his name, and vanish in an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city.

Without meaning to hurt either of your feelings, I am bound to say that I consider these men to be more than a match for the official force, and that is why I have not asked your assistance.

If I fail I shall, of course, incur all the blame due to this omission; but that I am prepared for. At present I am ready to promise that the instant that I can communicate with you without endangering my own combinations, I shall do so.

Gregson and Lestrade seemed to be far from satisfied by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the detective police.

Neither of them had time to speak, however, before there was a tap at the door, and the spokesman of the street Arabs, young Wiggins, introduced his insignificant and unsavoury person.

They fasten in an instant. Just ask him to step up, Wiggins. I was surprised to find my companion speaking as though he were about to set out on a journey, since he had not said anything to me about it.

There was a small portmanteau in the room, and this he pulled out and began to strap. He was busily engaged at it when the cabman entered the room.

The fellow came forward with a somewhat sullen, defiant air, and put down his hands to assist. At that instant there was a sharp click, the jangling of metal, and Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet again.

The whole thing occurred in a moment—so quickly that I had no time to realize it. For a second or two we might have been a group of statues.

Woodwork and glass gave way before him; but before he got quite through, Gregson, Lestrade, and Holmes sprang upon him like so many staghounds.

He was dragged back into the room, and then commenced a terrific conflict. So powerful and so fierce was he, that the four of us were shaken off again and again.

He appeared to have the convulsive strength of a man in an epileptic fit. His face and hands were terribly mangled by his passage through the glass, but loss of blood had no effect in diminishing his resistance.

It was not until Lestrade succeeded in getting his hand inside his neckcloth and half-strangling him that we made him realize that his struggles were of no avail; and even then we felt no security until we had pinioned his feet as well as his hands.

That done, we rose to our feet breathless and panting. You are very welcome to put any questions that you like to me now, and there is no danger that I will refuse to answer them.

IN the central portion of the great North American Continent there lies an arid and repulsive desert, which for many a long year served as a barrier against the advance of civilisation.

From the Sierra Nevada to Nebraska, and from the Yellowstone River in the north to the Colorado upon the south, is a region of desolation and silence.

Nor is Nature always in one mood throughout this grim district. It comprises snow-capped and lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys.

They all preserve, however, the common characteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery. There are no inhabitants of this land of despair.

A band of Pawnees or of Blackfeet may occasionally traverse it in order to reach other hunting-grounds, but the hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sight of those awesome plains, and to find themselves once more upon their prairies.

The coyote skulks among the scrub, the buzzard flaps heavily through the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear lumbers through the dark ravines, and picks up such sustenance as it can amongst the rocks.

These are the sole dwellers in the wilderness. In the whole world there can be no more dreary view than that from the northern slope of the Sierra Blanco.

As far as the eye can reach stretches the great flat plain-land, all dusted over with patches of alkali, and intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes.

On the extreme verge of the horizon lie a long chain of mountain peaks, with their rugged summits flecked with snow. In this great stretch of country there is no sign of life, nor of anything appertaining to life.

There is no bird in the steel-blue heaven, no movement upon the dull, grey earth—above all, there is absolute silence.

Listen as one may, there is no shadow of a sound in all that mighty wilderness; nothing but silence—complete and heart-subduing silence.

It has been said there is nothing appertaining to life upon the broad plain. That is hardly true. Looking down from the Sierra Blanco, one sees a pathway traced out across the desert, which winds away and is lost in the extreme distance.

It is rutted with wheels and trodden down by the feet of many adventurers. Here and there there are scattered white objects which glisten in the sun, and stand out against the dull deposit of alkali.

Approach, and examine them! They are bones: some large and coarse, others smaller and more delicate. The former have belonged to oxen, and the latter to men.

For fifteen hundred miles one may trace this ghastly caravan route by these scattered remains of those who had fallen by the wayside.

Looking down on this very scene, there stood upon the fourth of May, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, a solitary traveller.

His appearance was such that he might have been the very genius or demon of the region. An observer would have found it difficult to say whether he was nearer to forty or to sixty.

His face was lean and haggard, and the brown parchment-like skin was drawn tightly over the projecting bones; his long, brown hair and beard were all flecked and dashed with white; his eyes were sunken in his head, and burned with an unnatural lustre; while the hand which grasped his rifle was hardly more fleshy than that of a skeleton.

As he stood, he leaned upon his weapon for support, and yet his tall figure and the massive framework of his bones suggested a wiry and vigorous constitution.

His gaunt face, however, and his clothes, which hung so baggily over his shrivelled limbs, proclaimed what it was that gave him that senile and decrepit appearance.

The man was dying—dying from hunger and from thirst. He had toiled painfully down the ravine, and on to this little elevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs of water.

Now the great salt plain stretched before his eyes, and the distant belt of savage mountains, without a sign anywhere of plant or tree, which might indicate the presence of moisture.

In all that broad landscape there was no gleam of hope. North, and east, and west he looked with wild questioning eyes, and then he realised that his wanderings had come to an end, and that there, on that barren crag, he was about to die.

Before sitting down, he had deposited upon the ground his useless rifle, and also a large bundle tied up in a grey shawl, which he had carried slung over his right shoulder.

It appeared to be somewhat too heavy for his strength, for in lowering it, it came down on the ground with some little violence.

Instantly there broke from the grey parcel a little moaning cry, and from it there protruded a small, scared face, with very bright brown eyes, and two little speckled, dimpled fists.

The child was pale and wan, but her healthy arms and legs showed that she had suffered less than her companion. I was going to tell you though—you remember when we left the river?

Water ran out. And Mr. Bender, he was the fust to go, and then Indian Pete, and then Mrs. McGregor, and then Johnny Hones, and then, dearie, your mother.

Then I thought there was some chance of water in this direction, so I heaved you over my shoulder and we tramped it together.

How long will it be first? In the blue vault of the heaven there had appeared three little specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly did they approach.

They speedily resolved themselves into three large brown birds, which circled over the heads of the two wanderers, and then settled upon some rocks which overlooked them.

They were buzzards, the vultures of the west, whose coming is the forerunner of death. They forgot the water and the trees.

You say over them ones that you used to say every night in the waggon when we was on the Plains. It was a strange sight had there been anything but the buzzards to see it.

Side by side on the narrow shawl knelt the two wanderers, the little prattling child and the reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face, and his haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloudless heaven in heartfelt entreaty to that dread being with whom they were face to face, while the two voices—the one thin and clear, the other deep and harsh—united in the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness.

The prayer finished, they resumed their seat in the shadow of the boulder until the child fell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of her protector.

He watched over her slumber for some time, but Nature proved to be too strong for him. For three days and three nights he had allowed himself neither rest nor repose.

Had the wanderer remained awake for another half hour a strange sight would have met his eyes. Far away on the extreme verge of the alkali plain there rose up a little spray of dust, very slight at first, and hardly to be distinguished from the mists of the distance, but gradually growing higher and broader until it formed a solid, well-defined cloud.

This cloud continued to increase in size until it became evident that it could only be raised by a great multitude of moving creatures.

In more fertile spots the observer would have come to the conclusion that one of those great herds of bisons which graze upon the prairie land was approaching him.

This was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. As the whirl of dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon which the two castaways were reposing, the canvas-covered tilts of waggons and the figures of armed horsemen began to show up through the haze, and the apparition revealed itself as being a great caravan upon its journey for the West.

But what a caravan! When the head of it had reached the base of the mountains, the rear was not yet visible on the horizon.

Right across the enormous plain stretched the straggling array, waggons and carts, men on horseback, and men on foot.

Innumerable women who staggered along under burdens, and children who toddled beside the waggons or peeped out from under the white coverings.

This was evidently no ordinary party of immigrants, but rather some nomad people who had been compelled from stress of circumstances to seek themselves a new country.

There rose through the clear air a confused clattering and rumbling from this great mass of humanity, with the creaking of wheels and the neighing of horses.

Holmes chastises the officer for not realizing that this was the murderer himself in disguise. They leave and Holmes explains that the murderer returned on realizing that he'd forgotten the wedding ring.

Holmes dispatches some telegrams including an order for a newspaper notice about the ring. He also buys a facsimile of it.

He guesses that the murderer, having already returned to the scene of the crime for it, would come to retrieve it.

The advertisement is answered by an old woman who claims that the ring belongs to her daughter. Holmes gives her the duplicate, follows her, and returns to Watson with the story: she took a cab, he hopped onto the back of it, he found that she had vanished when it stopped.

This leads Holmes to believe that it was the murderer's accomplice in disguise. A day later, Gregson visits Holmes and Watson, telling them that he has arrested a suspect.

He learned from her that Drebber, a drunk, had attempted to kiss Mrs. Charpentier's daughter, Alice, which caused their immediate eviction.

Drebber, however, came back later that night and attempted to grab Alice, prompting her older brother to attack him. He attempted to chase Drebber with a cudgel but claimed to have lost sight of him.

Gregson has him in custody on this circumstantial evidence. Lestrade then arrives revealing that Stangerson has been murdered. Lestrade had gone to interview Stangerson after learning where he had been rooming.

His body was found dead near the hotel window, stabbed through the heart. The only things Stangerson had with him were a novel, a pipe, a telegram saying "J.

The pillbox Lestrade still has with him. Holmes tests the pills on an old and sickly Scottish terrier in residence at Baker Street.

The first pill produces no evident effect, but the second kills the terrier. Holmes deduces that one was harmless and the other poison.

Just at that moment, a very young street urchin named Wiggins arrives. He is the leader of the Baker Street Irregulars , a group of street children Holmes employs to help him occasionally.

Wiggins states that he's summoned the cab Holmes wanted. Holmes sends him down to fetch the cabby, claiming to need help with his luggage.

When the cabby comes upstairs and bends for the trunk, Holmes handcuffs and restrains him. He then announces the captive cabby as Jefferson Hope, the murderer of Drebber and Stangerson.

The story flashes back to the Salt Lake Valley in Utah in , where John Ferrier and a little girl named Lucy, the only survivors of a small party of pioneers , lie down near a boulder to die from dehydration and hunger.

They are discovered by a large party of Latter-day Saints led by Brigham Young. The Mormons rescue Ferrier and Lucy on the condition that they adopt and live under their faith.

Ferrier, who has proven himself an able hunter, adopts Lucy and is given a generous land grant with which to build his farm after the party constructs Salt Lake City.

Years later, a now-grown Lucy befriends and falls in love with a man named Jefferson Hope. Lucy and Hope become engaged, with the ceremony scheduled to take place after Hope's return from a two-month-long journey for his job.

However, Ferrier is visited by Young, who reveals that it is against the religion for Lucy to marry Hope, a non-Mormon.

He states that Lucy should marry Joseph Stangerson or Enoch Drebber—both sons of members of the church's Council of Four—though Lucy may choose which one.

Ferrier and Lucy are given a month to decide. Ferrier, who has sworn to never marry his daughter to a Mormon, immediately sends out a word to Hope for help.

When he is visited by Stangerson and Drebber, Ferrier is angered by their arguments over Lucy and throws them out. Every day, however, the number of days Ferrier has left to marry off Lucy is painted somewhere on his farm in the middle of the night.

Hope finally arrives on the eve of the last day, and sneaks his love and her adoptive father out of their farm and away from Salt Lake City.

However, while he is hunting for food, Hope returns to a horrific sight: a makeshift grave for the elder Ferrier. Lucy is nowhere to be seen.

Determined to devote his life to revenge, Hope sneaks back into Salt Lake City, learning that Stangerson murdered Ferrier and that Lucy was forcibly married to Drebber.

Lucy dies a month later from a broken heart; Drebber, who inherited Ferrier's farm becomes wealthy after converting the land to cash and is indifferent to Lucy's death.

Hope then breaks into Drebber's house the night before Lucy's funeral to kiss her body and remove her wedding ring. Swearing vengeance, Hope stalks the town, coming close to killing Drebber and Stangerson on numerous occasions.

Hope begins to suffer from an aortic aneurysm , causing him to leave the mountains to earn money and recuperate. When he returns several years later, he learns that Drebber and Stangerson have fled Salt Lake City after a schism between the Mormons.

Hope searches the United States, eventually tracking them to Cleveland ; Drebber has Hope arrested as an old rival in love; released from jail Hope finds that the pair then flees to Europe, where for a month he stays on their trail St.

In London, Hope became a cabby and eventually found Drebber and Stangerson at the train station in Euston about to depart to Liverpool for the United States.

Having missed the first train, Drebber instructed Stangerson to wait at the station and then returned to Madame Charpentier's house.

After an altercation with Madame Charpentier's son, Drebber got into Hope's cab and spent several hours drinking.

Eventually, Hope took him to the house on Brixton Road, which Drebber drunkenly entered believing it was a hotel. Hope then forced Drebber to recognize him and to choose between two pills, one of which was harmless and the other poison.

Drebber took the poisoned pill, and as he died, Hope showed him Lucy's wedding ring. The excitement coupled with his aneurysm had caused his nose to bleed; he used the blood to write "RACHE" on the wall above Drebber to confound the investigators.

Hope realized, upon returning to his cab, that he had forgotten Lucy's ring, but upon returning to the house, he found Constable Rance and other police officers, whom he evaded by acting drunk.

He then had a friend pose as an old lady to pick up the supposed ring from Holmes's advertisement. Hope then began stalking Stangerson's room at the hotel; but Stangerson, on learning of Drebber's murder, refused to come out.

Hope climbed into the room through the window and gave Stangerson the same choice of pills, but he was attacked and nearly strangled by Stangerson and forced to stab him in the heart.

He has stayed in London only to earn enough money to go back to the United States, although he admits that after twenty years of vengeance, he now has nothing to live for or care about.

After being told of this, Holmes and Watson return to Baker Street; Hope dies from his aneurysm the night before he is to appear in court, a smile on his face.

One morning, Holmes reveals to Watson how he had deduced the identity of the murderer [Using the one clue of the wedding ring, he had deduced the name from a Telegram to the Cleveland Police regarding Drebber's marriage] and how he had used the Irregulars, whom he calls "street Arabs," to search for a cabby by that name.

He then shows Watson the newspaper; Lestrade and Gregson are given full credit. Outraged, Watson states that Holmes should record the adventure and publish it.

Upon Holmes's refusal, Watson decides to do it himself. Conan Doyle wrote the novel at the age of 27 in less than three weeks.

It was illustrated by David Henry Friston. A second edition appeared the following year and was illustrated by George Hutchinson; a year later in , J.

Numerous further editions, translations and dramatisations have appeared since. According to a Salt Lake City newspaper article, when Conan Doyle was asked about his depiction of the Latter-day Saints' organisation as being steeped in kidnapping, murder and enslavement, he said: "all I said about the Danite Band and the murders is historical so I cannot withdraw that, though it is likely that in a work of fiction it is stated more luridly than in a work of history.

It's best to let the matter rest". Years after Conan Doyle's death, Levi Edgar Young , a descendant of Brigham Young and a Mormon general authority, claimed that Conan Doyle had privately apologised, saying that "He [Conan Doyle] said he had been misled by writings of the time about the Church" [8] and had "written a scurrilous book about the Mormons.

In August , the Albemarle County, Virginia , School Board removed A Study in Scarlet from the district's sixth-grade required reading list following complaints from students and parents that the book was derogatory toward Mormons.

As the first Sherlock Holmes story published, A Study in Scarlet was among the first to be adapted to the screen. In , Conan Doyle authorised a silent film be produced by G.

Holmes was played by James Bragington, an accountant who worked as an actor for the only time of his life.

He was hired for his resemblance to Holmes, as presented in the sketches originally published with the story.

The success of the film allowed for a second version to be produced that same year by Francis Ford , which has also been lost.

Hudson, and Inspector Lestrade, the only connections to the Holmes canon are a few lifts of character names Jabez Wilson, etc.

The — television series with Ronald Howard as Holmes and H. Marion Crawford as Watson used only the first section of the book as the basis for the episode "The Case of the Cunningham Heritage".

It was adapted as the second episode of the Soviet television film, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson the first episode combines the story of their meeting with "The Adventure of the Speckled Band"; the second episode adapts the actual Jefferson Hope case.

In both the television adaptation featuring Peter Cushing and the animated version featuring Peter O'Toole, the story is changed so that Holmes and Watson already know each other and have been living at B Baker Street for some time.

A Study in Scarlet is one of the stories missing from the adaptations made starring Jeremy Brett between and However, the entire backstory set in America is omitted, and the motivation of the killer is completely different.

It also features Moriarty 's presence. The story was more closely adapted in the season 4 episode, "A Study in Charlotte.

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