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    The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes
    The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes
    The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes
    Ebook294 pages6 hours

    The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes

    By Arthur Conan Doyle

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    About this ebook

    The last twelve stories written about Holmes and Watson, these tales reflect the disillusioned world of the 1920s in which they were written. Some of the sharpest turns of wit in English literature are contrasted by dark images of psychological tragedy, suicide, and incest in a collection of tales that have haunted generations of readers.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBooklassic
    Release dateJun 29, 2015
    ISBN9789635266500
    Author

    Arthur Conan Doyle

    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930) was a Scottish writer and physician, most famous for his stories about the detective Sherlock Holmes and long-suffering sidekick Dr Watson. Conan Doyle was a prolific writer whose other works include fantasy and science fiction stories, plays, romances, poetry, non-fiction and historical novels.

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    Reviews for The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes

    4/5

    49 ratings52 reviews

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    • 5/5
       -a year does not go by for me without rereading some Holmes-the short stories are much better than the novels
    • 3/5
      GLBT-interest tag due both to the amazingly overt Holmes/Watson language in this collection AND to the one about the Boer War vet named Jimmie with the missing army buddy (hi, I suck at remembering titles), whom he refers to as "chum" (code in late-to-post-Victorian era for m/m friends with benefits) and whom he recruits Holmes to help him save entirely like a fairytale knight rescuing his fair princess.

      I'm almost amazed it passed the censors, but the roaring 20s were far more lax than the aughts.
    • 4/5
      A personal favourite I`ve revisited lately. Personally, I prefer Sherlock in short story form, and this is probably the best introduction to him anyone could hope for. It is surprising how many of the stories in this one are not that well-known, probably because the world of TV and fim has tended to neglect this one.
    • 5/5
      The last collection of Sherlock Holmes short stories. Reprinted from the Strand Magazine. The illustrations are great.. fun to read and re read.
    • 2/5
      This product comprises a collection of 12 short detective stories across 8 CDs. This means that a story may begin and/or end in the middle of a CD. I listened to them in the car (on the daily school run) – and this didn’t particularly bother me or my daughter.As it happens we were both new to these stories (though we are avid fans of the modern tv show - Sherlock). As newcomers to the works of Conan Doyle, we were neither particularly impressed with the stories, nor disappointed with them. Homes remains an irritatingly smug character and Watson annoyingly servile; but the stories are well enough crafted and sufficiently different from each other to be interesting. Though I would say that the original isn’t a patch on the TV version!However we were disappointed with the reading by Derek Jacobi. Perhaps I had unrealistically high expectations but I would have expected that he could do more than one distinct upper class English accent. As it was, we found the voices of Sherlock and Watson hard to distinguish from one another.
    • 4/5
      Compared to the rest of the collected stories this one was actually pretty dark! You can tell that the world has certainly changed since the late 1880's. Crimes are more bestial...people are less noble overall. Very glad I read this one. It was kind of refreshing after reading the rest. I enjoyed them all, but the earlier stories have the glamour of Victoriana. These ones are closer to Micky Spillane.
    • 2/5
      Revel in the elegant language, arrogant sensibility, and self-assured stereotyping of late era Holmes. One can still see the appeal, as the working is well-crafted, the fabricated status quo ante of a stable elite class is reassuringly smooth, and the range of settings and locations, is pleasing. But the transparent simplicity of the identity of the wrongdoers does grate: they're nearly always easy to spot, and nearly always foreign. "Yes, she is very jealous - jealous with all the strength of her fiery tropical love" ("The Sussex Vmpires", p.105) is a typical piece of laugh-out-loud characterisation. But one shouldn't carp, we know what we're getting...
    • 4/5
      And so, reader, farewell to Sherlock Holmes! I thank you for your past constancy, and can but hope that some return has been made in the shape of that distraction from the worries of life and stimulating change of thought which can only be found in the fairy kingdom of romance.Arthur Conan Doyles preface to “The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes”Yes, farewell, dear Sherlock Holmes! I have now read the entire Holmes corpus by Arthur Conan Doyle. This last collection is a worthy farewell to a great detective - and I like the variety of the cases. A rich women in peril, lovers on the run, a missing soldier, a disfigured woman, a priceless jewel and a slight touch of vampirism (which the logical thinking Holmes of course discard as superstition).Again I like the victorian setting and atmosphere of the stories - even if they are not all clever whodunnit stories, it’s a sheer delight to see Holmes in action - and his special relationship with Dr. Watson - a touching example we find in the "The Adventure of the Three Garridebs" where Watson gets shot in the leg.Holmes: You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!Watson: It was worth a wound - it was worth many wounds - to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.
    • 3/5
      A couple of the stories were among the best I'd read of his. A couple were among the worst. But overall, his stories are always entertaining.
    • 3/5
      This project was a bit of a slog, but I did have individual stories or elements of stories that I enjoyed all the way up through the final volume. It was interesting to see how they changed -- the stories in the final volume are *so* much more death and age and sickness focused than the earlier ones. Loneliness and solitude as well. From starting out as lively adventures, they take on a certain melancholy cast.
    • 4/5
      The Sherlock Holmes cannon is expansive. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote 56 short stories for his detective which have been collected into 5 books. Holmes and Watson also star in four novels including The Hound of the Baskervilles. I have started my exploration of the Holmes stories at the back end.The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, first published in book form in 1927, is the final collection of short stories. By this time in his career, Doyle was tired of writing Sherlock Holmes stories. He even killed his detective off in the last story in The Final Problem. No fictional character, however, is ever truly dead.David Stuart Davies, in the afterword to this book, claims that these stories are the bottom scrapings of the barrel. The stories are not bad, "rather they are disappointing in construction and surprising in their unpleasantness. ... We can see that while some of the stories are weak in plot development they are also fascinating because of the dark and cruel nature of their content" (297).Despite Davies' write-up, I enjoyed the stories. The darkness in content reflects the ethos of a world at war. It was also interesting to read the voice of Sherlock Holmes in two of these stories. (Typically Doyle wrote in the voice of Watson, Holmes' assistant.) Doyle did well at differentiating his perspective from Watson's in the prose.If this is the weakest collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, I'm really going to enjoy the strong ones!
    • 4/5
      So I have just finished all the Sherlock Holmes stories. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
    • 4/5
      The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes read by Robert Hardy is an audio book containing only 4 of the 12 stories in the collection of the same name. I have the stories but I have also bought a few of these condensed audio book collections simply because I think Robert Hardy is marvellous at bringing Sherlock Holmes to life. I have a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories on audio (Legends of Radio: The Ultimate Sherlock Holems Collection - not written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) from America in the 1940's and '50's narrated by such acting luminaries as Orson Welles, Basil Rathbone and Sir John Gielgud but they don't come close to Robert Hardy. If you get a chance to listen to him reading the Sherlock Holmes stories then grab it I say!The first story in the audio book collection is; The Adventures of The Sussex Vampires. Holmes receives a letter from Robert Ferguson who is convinced that his Peruvian wife is sucking the blood of their child like a vampire as the boy has bite marks in his neck and is ill. This lady is Mr Ferguson's second wife and it transpires that she is not to blame but her stepson Jack is to blame who is jealous of the his step-brother.The second story is; The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, a lovely mystery for Holmes with a gentleman, Mr Nathan Garrideb (who is a recluse and never leaves his flat), being spun a web of lies about an inheritance being given to an American, Mr John Garrideb, on the proviso that he finds two other gentlemen with his unusual surname. The american Garrideb insists that Nathan accompanies him to Birmingham where he has found a third Garrideb so he can claim his inheritance. Of course all is not as it seems and it is up to Holmes to untangle the lies and discover why the American wants Nathan out of his house.The third story is; The Adventure of the Three Gables opens with some beautifully comic accents from Robert Hardy as Steve Dixie, an ex-boxer, threatens Holmes to stay away from Harrow (where Holmes has just received a letter from a lady in distress requiring his services). Mrs Maberley of Harrow has been offered a sum of money for her house more than it is worth but only if she will sell her house and all of the contents of it, which of course makes her suspicious and her suspicions are compounded by people spying one her. After a robbery at her house after she refuses to sell Holmes works out that they were after a manuscript written by her recently deceased son of a lurid affair between himself and a wealthy woman, Isadora Klein, who did not want the story to come out. After trying to obtain the manuscript legally (by buying the house and contents, the manuscript being in the house) she resorts to stealing it and burning the manuscript. Holmes, not above breaking the law himself at times in his career, blackmails Isadora into paying for a round the world trip for Mrs Maberley (something she had always wanted to do) as compensation for the robbery.The last story in this audio collection is; The Adventure of the Lion's Mane more famous perhaps for being narrated by Holmes himself and not Dr Watson. Now retired Holmes is enjoying the quiet life and seclusion of Sussex when the local science teacher is killed in mysterious circumstances. In asking about the teacher, Fitzroy McPherson, it seems there are a number of people with reason to hate and possibly kill him. The real murder though is a Lion's Mane Jellyfish, a deadly creature that was in the bathing pool McPherson used on the coast. One possible reason that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had Holmes narrate the story and not Dr Watson is that it hinges on matters of medicine. Presumably had Watson seen the red welts on McPherson's back caused by the jellyfish he might have been able to deduce himself what had happened.These stories are not perhaps as imaginative or well written as Doyle's earlier Holmes stories but there is still plenty of fun as Holmes explains his "elementary deductions" to Watson and if you do get a chance to hear them read by Robert Hardy I would recommend it.
    • 4/5
      I've watched plenty of TV adaptations but this is my first read of a Sherlock Holmes book and I was hooked. Most of the stories have such simple explanations to the mysteries they hint at. Sherlock is a genius. I'm now on the look out for more Sherlock Holmes books.
    • 2/5
      There are a two reasons this took me 2.5 years to read. One is that it is nine books bundled - four novels and five collections, though I only get "credit" for one.The other is that Doyle waned tedious so much! Oh My Flying Spaghetti Monster! The repetition was aggravating; the hat/rabbit pulling of unknown to the reader "clues" maddening; the plodding narratives numbing.For me, Holmes is the rare case (accidental pun not intended) of interpretations being orders of magnitude better than the book(s). Even Guy Ritchie's pugilistic Homes in lieu of intellect is better than Doyle's.This is my assessment. Fans can and will cry foul all they want.I'll sum this complete collection in one word: soporific.
    • 5/5
      Read every story at least 5 times. Forever and ever a diehard Sherlock Holmes fan.
    • 5/5
      All original Sherlock, what is not to like about that.
    • 4/5
      More like a 4.5 stars.
      I really like the stories, but in some points I'm too modern for them. The conviction that the looks of people and their features say something about their character is foreign to me and somehow weird.
    • 5/5
      This is the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes, with a sympathetic introduction by Christopher Morley and without some of the sillier notes in some other editions. It is Holmes, all Homes, and nothing but Holmes. When I was young, my mother won a mystery quiz competition run by the Toledo (Ohio) Blade newspaper for which the prize was one mystery book. My brother and I asked her to request this, and she did. Before this, I had had a book with a selection of Holmes stories, and I may have seen a few others elsewhere,but I had not had access to the entire set. For many years, this was the Holmes volume for our family.
    • 5/5
      Whilst reading these stories you can see why they became such classics. Arthur Conan Doyle really sets the scene wonderfully, with each story making the reader speculate as to how the crime was committed. In Sherlock, Doyle created a fascinating character which is why he has stood the test of time with many an adaptation.
    • 3/5
      Much more readable than I expected! The time period evokes Dickens, but the writing is so not Dickens.

      The inconsistencies bugged me: Watson marries, then suddenly moves back with Holmes, moves out again, but no mention is ever made of his wife afterwards. Each set of stories engages a convenient spy/source for Holmes, but the gang or street kids in the first is my favourite.
      Sometimes Holmes is just around when a mystery sorts itself out, sometimes he just noses into the right room or question, sometimes he gets shit lucky, sometimes he figures it out.

      As short stories, they work -- read one or two an evening and you're good. Doyle obviously had a fascination with America and its wildness, as the landscape and dark characters factor in occasionally. Women are spineless and ridiculous, except for Irene Adler. I wish she had been recurring.

      At least I can finally say I've read Sherlock Holmes. (But I don't advise this edition: for the page count it gives me, I'm not done justice! 8pt font, 8x11 size pages! It's like reading the Bible cover to cover.
    • 5/5
      Although some of these tales may be more appealing than others, there is much to enjoy in this audio version of the complete Sherlock Holmes. Whether or not you are a Holmes fan, this collection should not be missed. The extraordinary performance of Simon Vance only adds to its pleasure.
    • 5/5
      Conan Doyle's intellect never ceases to amaze me. Every time I pick up a Holmes' story, I am shocked. It's like watching Criminal Minds play out in the nineteenth century. Detective/ Crime novella fans these books are for you guys. Doyle knows his stuff.
    • 5/5
      I purchased a gorgeous copy of the Complete Sherlock Holmes which included some nicely done vintage illustrations along with the most AMAZING narration performed by Simon Vance. I didn't read the entire book all at once, but savored the stories, interspersing them with other books. What a joy! I can see why Sherlock Holmes has become part of our culture with movies, TV shows, and the dozens of newly released mystery books that include him as a character. My biggest surprise was reading some of the novellas and seeing Arthur Conan Doyle's skill in describing a scene, or characters outside of the typical London mysteries. Great experience!
    • 4/5
      I had a hard time figuring out a rating for this first volume, because I really disliked the first two novels (weird Mormon tangent, anyone?), felt indifferent about a few more, and loved some others (especially Hound of the Baskervilles). On average, my rating probably falls between 3.5 and 4.
    • 5/5
      I am one of the many that decided to take on this mammoth of a book after watching the BBC series Sherlock.

      Sherlock Holmes is Arthur Conan Doyle's famous creation - a creation we all know the author would later come to despise.

      Sherlock Holmes is blunt, crass and just plain rude, but because is a genius the people who come to him for help really just have to put up with it. He's an addict; several times in the book, in different stories, we see him taking cocaine much to the chagrin of his friend John Watson.

      One of my main gripes about this book though is Mary. She just disappears without warning halfway through! Only when I finished the book and researched what happened to Mary Morstan did I realise she had an off-screen death that prompted John to move back in with Sherlock. And then we don't even see John upset by this. His wife just died and he's all "Meh" about it.

      Ah, true love in the Victorian Era. How quaint.
    • 4/5
      Sherlock Holmes started out as Doyle's steady-money potboilers, a series of stories ground out in exchange for a paycheck. But they caught the public imagination, and Holmes' fame grew until he became the best-known fictional detective out there. Countless remakes, pastiches, parodies, and retellings later, Holmes has finally made it into a rather unique position: he is currently featured as an action hero in several TV shows and quite a few movies, and yet on the polar opposite of the snobbery spectrum, he is Literature--I even took a college course where he was included on the syllabus. With all of the revamps and remakes and recharacterizations, it's easy to forget about the original character. With all of the analysis and study of symbolism and historiography, it's easy to forget what Sherlock Holmes is really all about: a set of rattling good yarns.

      Whatever your literary polarity, Sherlock Holmes is a worthwhile read. The stories themselves are fun and the writing style is surprisingly contemporary for the time period: lots of snappy and often hilarious dialogue, a humorous first person narrator, and quite a lot of action. I haven't seen--and have no intention of seeing--the various remakes of Holmes, but I'm not convinced they captured the characters. Watson also always seems to lose out in the remakes--in the books, he is a bit stolid, but certainly not a buffoon. Holmes's complex and quirky personality is perhaps one of the reasons that his stories captured the public imagination. He is not a lovelorn superhero; rather, he is a somewhat sociopathic, drug-addicted, lonely misanthrope. At the same time, he is very different from the cold and uptight Brett from the old movies--he has a completely wacky sense of humour, an obsession with disguise, and a tendency to jump into action, his trusty revolver at the ready. His personality is rather static--possibly one reason why Doyle tried so hard to make that drop off Reichenbach Falls fatal. I believe that he is the prototype for a massive collection of later detectives from Alleyn to Poirot to Qwilleran in which the detective acts as the single fixed frame for an everchanging cast of characters.

      Plotwise, the stories may not be brilliant, but they are a lot of fun. They also precede the times when detective stories necessarily required a murder--almost all of the stories function without dead-body-driven action. Holmes' adventures range from a mysteriously disappearing league apparently set up to benefit redheads to a treasure hunt for a hidden chamber to a run-in with the KKK to frolics with supernaturally glowing hounds.

      If you're reading for fun, I suggest The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, a set of some of the earlier short stories. Holmes' adventures technically begin with the novel, A Study in Scarlet, but I think Holmes functions better in his short stories--more wackiness and variety. Adventures also contains the famous run-in with Irene Adler. If you're searching for Moriarty--who, by the way, is only even mentioned in a handful of stories--then he's in Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, which also contains the story "Silver Blaze," where Holmes utters his famous line about the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. (But the dog did nothing in the night-time! Yes, that was the curious incident.) If you're reading for historical analysis, take a look at The Valley of Fear, which is nominally a Holmes story, but is really about violent secret societies in the US--interesting from a historiographical perspective.

      So if you are interested in the history of mystery, or you're a fan of one of the various Sherlock enterprises, from the new show to House, take a look at the original. You'll enjoy it.
    • 5/5
      I just spent the last three weeks reading the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle relating to his famous character, Sherlock Holmes. Three. Weeks. It occurred to me that non-readers or not-very-fast readers may feel as I did when they read a regular novel… am I ever going to be finished with this book? But it was definitely worth the three weeks of my time to have read the 4 novels and 56 short stories contained within. In fact, it made me kind of sad to finish the last story… to know that there is no more of the original tales of Sherlock and Dr. Watson out there for me to read.

      It was so refreshing to be back in my element of classic literature, not worrying about coming across f-bombs and other forms of vulgarity in the pages. The writing is witty and smart, the characters fascinating, and the stories engaging. They make you think. Toward the end of the 56 short stories, I must admit that the beginnings of the stories all seemed the same, but I suppose that must be forgiven, since some of them at least were originally released as part of a regular magazine publication, and were in need of supplying a slight background for the new reader. Overall, I would characterize the stories as creatively brilliant.

      I must admit, I love all things Sherlock Holmes, and it’s surprising to me that I hadn’t read more of the original stories before now. I think I remember reading a short story or two in middle school, but other than that, I had read none of these original works. My husband and I enjoy watching deductive reasoning shows. We watched and enjoyed both recent Sherlock Holmes movies starring Robert Downey Jr. We loved the first two seasons of the BBC series “Sherlock” and are anxiously awaiting the third series. I must admit, as I was reading the book, the actors from this series were who I pictured most, even though we’ve also began watching the newest spin on the Sherlock stories, the CBS series “Elementary” (Also good – I love Watson as a woman).

      As usual, however, the old standby of the book being better than the movie still applies. Nothing engages the mind quite like a book, and this one (or ones, as it’s a compilation) is definitely mind-engaging and well worth the read. 5 of 5 stars.
    • 4/5
      This is not quite the same version - I got the 1.99 version on my Nook.

      Just started this. The first story introduces us to Watson, who is trying to find suitable apartments to rent. A friend of his mentions a rather odd if pleasant gentleman who is looking for a roommate for an apartment he just found...

      Great so far! Love that Holmes disses other literary detectives.

      12-24 Still loving this. More than halfway done with the 1,700 some pages. I'll really miss it when I'm done.

      I have not quite gotten through the last of these... but I'm marking it as "read" because I've simply gone through way more than half of these numerous stories. Definitely fodder for a re-read sometime.
    • 4/5
      This is a massive omnibus so I will be reviewing the bits as I finish them. (I have read one or two of the short story collections before - everything else should be fairly new.)

      A Study in Scarlet:

      I knew the bones of the mystery already - it's been riffed on so many times it's impossible not to. But I was struck by first, how charming the introduction of Our Heroes is, and secondly how wacky the random Western stuck in the middle seemed. I would have found it more charming if I had any patience right now for sinister Mormons and the caricatured portrayals thereof.

      The Sign of the Four:

      Similarly, this mystery is centered around discovering what happened in far-off exotic places that came home to roost. It feels more slight than A Study in Scarlet and there's a degree of period-standard racism than makes me flinch, but Watson and Holmes remain entertaining.

      The Hound of the Baskervilles:

      A pure English countryside mystery. Holmes is really kind of a dick to Watson, but one can't argue too much with success, and of course Watson doesn't. Definitely one of those where the reader really can't jump ahead too much, because the solution is dependent on clues we just don't get until the end. I don't mind that too much, but I know it infuriates some people.

      The Valley of Fear:

      Again a local mystery bracketed around an Exciting Adventure in Foreign Parts. I find this device baffling, although the interstitial story was much better than the previous two examples. Introduces Moriarty in a distant sort of way.

      The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes:

      The short stories begin! This and the following volume I had read previously. I can definitely see why Holmes and Watson are such resilient characters - their relationship is delightful. The actual stories are pleasantly short, and I was satisfied that while I couldn't actually solve the mystery most of the time (the reader doesn't get enough info) I could usually see the shape of it, which made me anticipate the reveal more than I would have otherwise.

      The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes:

      Just as entertaining as the Adventures. The Final Problem was one I'd heard so much about that it seemed like I must have read it, but it was nice to actually do so. The stories don't stick in my head much - they're fairly slight - but fun and worth the read.

      His Last Bow:

      A few interesting variations - a story written in the third person, one written from Holmes' perspective - but otherwise more of the same.

      The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes:

      The joy does seem to have gone out by this point. Fairly rote, although reading for homoeroticism remains a delight.

      Incidental note: This is a huge cheap edition that I picked up for a song. Wouldn't recommend it - heavy, unwieldy, and unlovely.

    Book preview

    The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

    DOYLE.

    Chapter 1

    The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone

    It was pleasant to Dr. Watson to find himself once more in the untidy room of the first floor in Baker Street which had been the starting-point of so many remarkable adventures. He looked round him at the scientific charts upon the wall, the acid-charred bench of chemicals, the violin-case leaning in the corner, the coal-scuttle, which contained of old the pipes and tobacco. Finally, his eyes came round to the fresh and smiling face of Billy, the young but very wise and tactful page, who had helped a little to fill up the gap of loneliness and isolation which surrounded the saturnine figure of the great detective.

    It all seems very unchanged, Billy. You don't change, either. I hope the same can be said of him?

    Billy glanced with some solicitude at the closed door of the bedroom.

    I think he's in bed and asleep, he said.

    It was seven in the evening of a lovely summer's day, but Dr. Watson was sufficiently familiar with the irregularity of his old friend's hours to feel no surprise at the idea.

    That means a case, I suppose?

    Yes, sir, he is very hard at it just now. I'm frightened for his health. He gets paler and thinner, and he eats nothing. 'When will you be pleased to dine, Mr. Holmes?' Mrs. Hudson asked. 'Seven-thirty, the day after to-morrow,' said he. You know his way when he is keen on a case.

    Yes, Billy, I know.

    He's following someone. Yesterday he was out as a workman looking for a job. To-day he was an old woman. Fairly took me in, he did, and I ought to know his ways by now. Billy pointed with a grin to a very baggy parasol which leaned against the sofa. That's part of the old woman's outfit, he said.

    But what is it all about, Billy?

    Billy sank his voice, as one who discusses great secrets of State. I don't mind telling you, sir, but it should go no farther. It's this case of the Crown diamond.

    What — the hundred-thousand-pound burglary?

    Yes, sir. They must get it back, sir. Why, we had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary both sitting on that very sofa. Mr. Holmes was very nice to them. He soon put them at their ease and promised he would do all he could. Then there is Lord Cantlemere —

    Ah!

    Yes, sir, you know what that means. He's a stiff'un, sir, if I may say so. I can get along with the Prime Minister, and I've nothing against the Home Secretary, who seemed a civil, obliging sort of man, but I can't stand his Lordship. Neither can Mr. Holmes, sir. You see, he don't believe in Mr. Holmes and he was against employing him. He'd rather he failed.

    And Mr. Holmes knows it?

    Mr. Holmes always knows whatever there is to know.

    Well, we'll hope he won't fail and that Lord Cantlemere will be confounded. But I say, Billy, what is that curtain for across the window?

    Mr. Holmes had it put up there three days ago. We've got something funny behind it.

    Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which screened the alcove of the bow window.

    Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a facsimile of his old friend, dressing-gown and all, the face turned three-quarters towards the window and downward, as though reading an invisible book, while the body was sunk deep in an armchair. Billy detached the head and held it in the air.

    We put it at different angles, so that it may seem more lifelike. I wouldn't dare touch it if the blind were not down. But when it's up you can see this from across the way.

    We used something of the sort once before.

    Before my time, said Billy. He drew the window curtains apart and looked out into the street. There are folk who watch us from over yonder. I can see a fellow now at the window. Have a look for yourself.

    Watson had taken a step forward when the bedroom door opened, and the long, thin form of Holmes emerged, his face pale and drawn, but his step and bearing as active as ever. With a single spring he was at the window, and had drawn the blind once more.

    That will do, Billy, said he. You were in danger of your life then, my boy, and I can't do without you just yet. Well, Watson, it is good to see you in your old quarters once again. You come at a critical moment.

    So I gather.

    You can go, Billy. That boy is a problem, Watson. How far am I justified in allowing him to be in danger?

    Danger of what, Holmes?

    Of sudden death. I'm expecting something this evening.

    Expecting what?

    To be murdered, Watson.

    No, no, you are joking, Holmes!

    Even my limited sense of humour could evolve a better joke than that. But we may be comfortable in the meantime, may we not? Is alcohol permitted? The gasogene and cigars are in the old place. Let me see you once more in the customary armchair. You have not, I hope, learned to despise my pipe and my lamentable tobacco? It has to take the place of food these days.

    But why not eat?

    Because the faculties become refined when you starve them. Why, surely, as a doctor, my dear Watson, you must admit that what your digestion gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the brain. I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix. Therefore, it is the brain I must consider.

    But this danger, Holmes?

    Ah. yes, in case it should come off, it would perhaps be as well that you should burden your memory with the name and address of the murderer. You can give it to Scotland Yard, with my love and a parting blessing. Sylvius is the name — Count Negretto Sylvius. Write it down, man, write it down! 136 Moorside Gardens, N. W. Got it?

    Watson's honest face was twitching with anxiety. He knew only too well the immense risks taken by Holmes and was well aware that what he said was more likely to be under-statement than exaggeration. Watson was always the man of action, and he rose to the occasion.

    Count me in, Holmes. I have nothing to do for a day or two.

    Your morals don't improve, Watson. You have added fibbing to your other vices. You bear every sign of the busy medical man, with calls on him every hour.

    Not such important ones. But can't you have this fellow arrested?

    Yes, Watson, I could. That's what worries him so.

    But why don't you?

    Because I don't know where the diamond is.

    Ah! Billy told me — the missing Crown jewel!

    Yes, the great yellow Mazarin stone. I've cast my net and I have my fish. But I have not got the stone. What is the use of taking them? We can make the world a better place by laying them by the heels. But that is not what I am out for. It's the stone I want.

    And is this Count Sylvius one of your fish?

    Yes, and he's a shark. He bites. The other is Sam Merton the boxer. Not a bad fellow, Sam, but the Count has used him. Sam's not a shark. He is a great big silly bull-headed gudgeon. But he is flopping about in my net all the same.

    Where is this Count Sylvius?

    I've been at his very elbow all the morning. You've seen me as an old lady, Watson. I was never more convincing. He actually picked up my parasol for me once. 'By your leave, madame,' said he — half-ltalian, you know, and with the Southern graces of manner when in the mood, but a devil incarnate in the other mood. Life is full of whimsical happenings, Watson.

    It might have been tragedy.

    Well, perhaps it might. I followed him to old Straubenzee's workshop in the Minories. Straubenzee made the air-gun — a very pretty bit of work, as I understand, and I rather fancy it is in the opposite window at the present moment. Have you seen the dummy? Of course, Billy showed it to you. Well, it may get a bullet through its beautiful head at any moment. Ah, Billy, what is it?

    The boy had reappeared in the room with a card upon a tray. Holmes glanced at it with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

    The man himself. I had hardly expected this. Grasp the nettle, Watson! A man of nerve. Possibly you have heard of his reputation as a shooter of big game. It would indeed be a triumphant ending to his excellent sporting record if he added me to his bag. This is a proof that he feels my toe very close behind his heel.

    Send for the police.

    I probably shall. But not just yet. Would you glance carefully out of the window, Watson, and see if anyone is hanging about in the street?

    Watson looked warily round the edge of the curtain.

    Yes, there is one rough fellow near the door.

    That will be Sam Merton — the faithful but rather fatuous Sam. Where is this gentleman, Billy?

    In the waiting-room, sir.

    Show him up when I ring.

    Yes,sir.

    If I am not in the room, show him in all the same.

    Yes, sir.

    Watson waited until the door was closed, and then he turned earnestly to his companion.

    Look here, Holmes, this is simply impossible. This is a desperate man, who sticks at nothing. He may have come to murder you.

    I should not be surprised.

    I insist upon staying with you.

    You would be horribly in the way.

    In his way?

    No, my dear fellow — in my way.

    Well, I can't possibly leave you.

    Yes, you can, Watson. And you will, for you have never failed to play the game. I am sure you will play it to the end. This man has come for his own purpose, but he may stay for mine.

    Holmes took out his notebook and scribbled a few lines. Take a cab to Scotland Yard and give this to Youghal of the C. I. D. Come back with the police. The fellow's arrest will follow.

    "I'll do that with joy.

    Before you return I may have just time enough to find out where the stone is. He touched the bell. I think we will go out through the bedroom. This second exit is exceedingly useful. I rather want to see my shark without his seeing me, and I have, as you will remember, my own way of doing it.

    It was, therefore, an empty room into which Billy, a minute later, ushered Count Sylvius. The famous game-shot, sportsman, and man-about-town was a big, swarthy fellow, with a formidable dark moustache shading a cruel, thin-lipped mouth, and surmounted by a long, curved nose like the beak of an eagle. He was well dressed, but his brilliant necktie, shining pin, and glittering rings were flamboyant in their effect. As the door closed behind him he looked round him with fierce, startled eyes, like one who suspects a trap at every turn. Then he gave a violent start as he saw the impassive head and the collar of the dressing-gown which projected above the armchair in the window. At first his expression was one of pure amazement. Then the light of a horrible hope gleamed in his dark, murderous eyes. He took one more glance round to see that there were no witnesses, and then, on tiptoe, his thick stick half raised, he approached the silent figure. He was crouching for his final spring and blow when a cool, sardonic voice greeted him from the open bedroom door:

    Don't break it, Count! Don't break it!

    The assassin staggered back, amazement in his convulsed face. For an instant he half raised his loaded cane once more, as if he would turn his violence from the effigy to the original; but there was something in that steady gray eye and mocking smile which caused his hand to sink to his side.

    It's a pretty little thing, said Holmes, advancing towards the image. Tavernier, the French modeller, made it. He is as good at waxworks as your friend Straubenzee is at air-guns.

    Air-guns, sir! What do you mean?

    Put your hat and stick on the side-table. Thank you! Pray take a seat. Would you care to put your revolver out also? Oh, very good, if you prefer to sit upon it. Your visit is really most opportune, for I wanted badly to have a few minutes' chat with you.

    The Count scowled, with heavy, threatening eyebrows.

    I, too, wished to have some words with you, Holmes. That is why I am here. I won't deny that I intended to assault you just now.

    Holmes swung his leg on the edge of the table.

    I rather gathered that you had some idea of the sort in your head, said he. But why these personal attentions?

    Because you have gone out of your way to annoy me. Because you have put your creatures upon my track.

    My creatures! I assure you no!

    Nonsense! I have had them followed. Two can play at that game, Holmes.

    It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps you would kindly give me my prefix when you address me. You can understand that, with my routine of work, I should find myself on familiar terms with half the rogues' gallery, and you will agree that exceptions are invidious.

    Well, Mr. Holmes, then.

    Excellent! But I assure you you are mistaken about my alleged agents.

    Count Sylvius laughed contemptuously.

    Other people can observe as well as you. Yesterday there was an old sporting man. To-day it was an elderly woman. They held me in view all day.

    Really, sir, you compliment me. Old Baron Dowson said the night before he was hanged that in my case what the law had gained the stage had lost. And now you give my little impersonations your kindly praise?

    It was you — you yourself?

    Holmes shrugged his shoulders. You can see in the corner the parasol which you so politely handed to me in the Minories before you began to suspect.

    If I had known, you might never —

    Have seen this humble home again. I was well aware of it. We all have neglected opportunities to deplore. As it happens, you did not know, so here we are!

    The Count's knotted brows gathered more heavily over his menacing eyes. What you say only makes the matter worse. It was not your agents but your play-acting, busybody self! You admit that you have dogged me. Why?

    Come now, Count. You used to shoot lions in Algeria.

    Well?

    But why?

    Why? The sport — the excitement — the danger!

    And, no doubt, to free the country from a pest?

    Exactly!

    My reasons in a nutshell!

    The Count sprang to his feet, and his hand involuntarily moved back to his hip-pocket.

    Sit down, sir, sit down! There was another, more practical, reason. I want that yellow diamond!

    Count Sylvius lay back in his chair with an evil smile.

    Upon my word! said he.

    You knew that I was after you for that. The real reason why you are here to-night is to find out how much I know about the matter and how far my removal is absolutely essential. Well, I should say that, from your point of view, it is absolutely essential, for I know all about it, save only one thing, which you are about to tell me.

    Oh, indeed! And pray, what is this missing fact?

    Where the Crown diamond now is.

    The Count looked sharply at his companion. Oh, you want to know that, do you? How the devil should I be able to tell you where it is?

    You can, and you will.

    Indeed!

    You can't bluff me, Count Sylvius. Holmes's eyes, as he gazed at him, contracted and lightened until they were like two menacing points of steel. You are absolute plate-glass. I see to the very back of your mind.

    Then, of course, you see where the diamond is!

    Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and then pointed a derisive finger. Then you do know. You have admitted it!

    I admit nothing.

    Now, Count, if you will be reasonable we can do business. If not, you will get hurt.

    Count Sylvius threw up his eyes to the ceiling. And you talk about bluff! said he.

    Holmes looked at him thoughtfully like a master chess-player who meditates his crowning move. Then he threw open the table drawer and drew out a squat notebook.

    Do you know what I keep in this book?

    No, sir, I do not!

    You!

    Me!

    Yes, sir, you! You are all here — every action of yor vile and dangerous life.

    Damn you, Holmes! cried the Count with blazing eyes. There are limits to my patience!

    It's all here, Count. The real facts as to the death of old Mrs. Harold, who left you the Blymer estate, which you so rapidly gambled away.

    You are dreaming!

    And the complete life history of Miss Minnie Warrender.

    Tut! You will make nothing of that!

    Plenty more here, Count. Here is the robbery in the train de-luxe to the Riviera on February 13, 1892. Here is the forged check in the same year on the Credit Lyonnais.

    No, you're wrong there.

    Then I am right on the others! Now, Count, you are a card-player. When the other fellow has all the trumps, it saves time to throw down your hand.

    What has all this talk to do with the jewel of which you spoke?

    Gently, Count. Restrain that eager mind! Let me get to the points in my own humdrum fashion. I have all this against you; but, above all, I have a clear case against both you and your fighting bully in the case of the Crown diamond.

    Indeed!

    I have the cabman who took you to Whitehall and the cabman who brought you away. I have the commissionaire who saw you near the case. I have Ikey Sanders, who refused to cut it up for you. Ikey has peached, and the game is up.

    The veins stood out on the Count's forehead. His dark, hairy hands were clenched in a convulsion of restrained emotion. He tried to speak, but the words would not shape themselves.

    That's the hand I play from, said Holmes. I put it all upon the table. But one card is missing. It's the king of diamonds. I don't know where the stone is.

    You never shall know.

    No? Now, be reasonable, Count. Consider the situation. You are going to be locked up for twenty years. So is Sam Merton. What good are you going to get out of your diamond? None in the world. But if you hand it over — well, I'll compound a felony. We don't want you or Sam. We want the stone. Give that up, and so far as I am concerned you can go free so long as you behave yourself in the future. If you make another slip well, it will be the last. But this time my commission is to get the stone, not you.

    But if I refuse?

    Why, then — alas! — it must be you and not the stone.

    Billy had appeared in answer to a ring.

    I think, Count, that it would be as well to have your friend Sam at this conference. After all, his interests should be represented. Billy, you will see a large and ugly gentleman outside the front door. Ask him to come up.

    If he won't come, sir?

    No violence, Billy. Don't be rough with him. If you tell him that Count Sylvius wants him he will certainly come.

    What are you going to do now? asked the Count as Billy disappeared.

    My friend Watson was with me just now. I told him that I had a shark and a gudgeon in my net; now I am drawing the net and up they come together.

    The Count had risen from his chair, and his hand was behind his back. Holmes held something half protruding from the pocket of his dressing-gown.

    You won't die in your bed, Holmes.

    I have often had the same idea. Does it matter very much? After all, Count, your own exit is more likely to be perpendicular than horizontal. But these anticipations of the future are morbid. Why not give ourselves up to the unrestrained enjoyment of the present?

    A sudden wild-beast light sprang up in the dark, menacing eyes of the master criminal. Holmes's figure seemed to grow taller as he grew tense and ready.

    It is no use your fingering your revolver, my friend, he said in a quiet voice. You know perfectly well that you dare not use it, even if I gave you time to draw it. Nasty, noisy things, revolvers, Count. Better stick to air-guns. Ah! I think I hear the fairy footstep of your estimable partner. Good day, Mr. Merton. Rather dull in the street, is it not?

    The prize-fighter, a heavily built young man with a stupid, obstinate, slab-sided face, stood awkwardly at the door, looking about him with a puzzled expression. Holmes's debonair manner was a new experience, and though he vaguely felt that it was hostile, he did not know how to counter it. He turned to his more astute comrade for help.

    What's the game now, Count? What's this fellow want? What's up? His voice was deep and raucous.

    The Count shrugged his shoulders, and it was Holmes who answered.

    If I may put it in a nutshell, Mr. Merton, I should say it was all up.

    The boxer still addressed his remarks to his associate.

    Is this cove trying to be funny, or what? I'm not in the funny mood myself.

    No, I expect not, said Holmes. I think I can promise you that you will feel even less humorous as the evening advances. Now, look here, Count Sylvius. I'm a busy man and I can't waste time. I'm going into that bedroom. Pray make yourselves quite at home in my absence. You can explain to your friend how the matter lies without the restraint of my presence. I shall try over the Hoffman 'Barcarole' upon my violin. In five minutes I shall return for your final answer. You quite grasp the alternative, do you not? Shall we take you, or shall we have the stone?

    Holmes withdrew, picking up his violin from the corner as he passed. A few moments later the long-drawn, wailing notes of that most haunting of tunes came faintly through the closed door of the bedroom.

    What is it, then? asked Merton anxiously as his companion turned to him. Does he know about the stone?

    He knows a damned sight too much about it. I'm not sure that he doesn't know all about it.

    Good Lord! The boxer's sallow face turned a shade whiter.

    Ikey Sanders has split on us.

    He has, has he? I'll do him down a thick 'un for that if I swing for it.

    That won't help us much. We've got to make up our minds what to do.

    Half a mo', said the boxer, looking suspiciously at the bedroom door. He's a leary cove that wants watching. I suppose he's not listening?

    How can he be listening with that music going?

    That's right. Maybe somebody's behind a curtain. Too many curtains in this room. As he looked round he suddenly saw for the first time the effigy in the window, and stood staring and pointing, too amazed for words.

    Tut! it's only a dummy, said the Count.

    A fake, is it? Well, strike me! Madame Tussaud ain't in it. It's the living spit of him, gown and all. But them curtains Count!

    Oh, confound the curtains! We are wasting our time, and there is none too much. He can lag us over this stone.

    The deuce he can!

    But he'll let us slip if we only tell him where the swag is.

    What! Give it up? Give up a hundred thousand quid?

    It's one or the other.

    Merton scratched his short-cropped pate.

    He's alone in there. Let's do him in. If his light were out we should have nothing to fear.

    The Count shook his head.

    He is armed and ready. If we shot him we could hardly get away in a place like this. Besides, it's likely enough that the police know whatever evidence he has got. Hallo! What was that?

    There was a vague sound which seemed to come from the window. Both men sprang

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