The Adventure of the Dying Detective (Part 2) by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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but it was destined to be resumed long before that hour and in circumstances, which gave me a shock. Hardly second to that caused by his spring to the door. I had stood for some minutes, looking at the silent figure in the bed. His face was almost covered by the clothes, and he appeared to be asleep. Then, unable to settle down to reading, I walked slowly round the room, examining the pictures of celebrated criminals with which every war was adorned. Finally, in my aimless perambulations, I came to the mantelpiece. A literal pipes, tobacco pouches, syringes, pen knives, revolver cartridges and other debris was scattered over it. In the midst of these was a small, black and quite ivory box with a sliding lid. It was a neat little thing, and I had stretched out my hand to examine it more closely when it was a dreadful cry that he gave a yell, which might have bean heard down the street. My skin went cold in my how bristled a terrific scream. As I turned, I caught a glimpse of a convulsed face and frantic eyes high stood paralysed with the little box in my hand put now watching this skin dies. He his hands, Hank back upon the pillow and he gave a deep sigh of relief as I replaced the box up on the mantelpiece. I need to have my things touched. You know that I hated you, fidget me beyond him. Joining you, Doctor, you are enough to drive a patient into an asylum. Sit down, down and let me have my wrist. The incident left a most unpleasant impression upon my mind. The violent and cause of this excitement followed by this brutality of speech so far removed from his usual suavity, showed me how deep was the disorganisation of his mind. Of all ruins. That of a noble mind is the most deplorable. I sat in silent ejection until the stipulated time had passed. He seemed to have been watching the clock as well as I. For it was hardly six before he began to talk with the same feverish animation as before. Now Watson said he have you any change in your pocket? Yes. Any silver. A good deal. How many half crowns? I have five. I don't feel so few. How very unfortunate, Watson. However, such as they are you can put them in your watch pocket and all the rest of your money in your left, Charles. Impolite. Thank you. And a little balance. You're so much better like that. This was raving insanity. He shut it in again, Made a sound between a coffin. A Saab. You will now like the tax, Watson. But you will be very careful of it. Not for one instant shall be more than half arm. I implore you to be careful. What's and thank you. That is excellent. Now you need not draw the blind. Now you will have the kindness to play some letters and papers. Apartness table within my reach. Thank you. Now, some of that letter from the mantelpiece. Excellent. Watts. There is this Sugar tongs there. Kindly raise that small ivory box with its assistance. Place it here among the papers. Good. You can now go into pitch, Mr Corbett in Smith of 13 lower back streets. To tell the truth, my desire to fetch a doctor had somewhat weakened for poor homes are so obviously hilarious that it seemed dangerous to leave him. However, he was as eager now to consult the person named as he had bean, obstinate and refusing. I never heard the name, said I possibly not. My good Watson meet may surprise you to know that the man upon earth who is best vest in this disease is not a medical man, but a plant. Mr. Colvin Smith is a well known L A residents of Sumatra now visiting London. An outbreak of the seas upon his plantation, which was distant from medical aid, caused him to study it himself with some rather far reaching consequences. He is a very methodical person, and I did not desire you to start before six because I was well aware that you would not find him in his study. If you could persuade him to come here and give us the benefit of his unique experience of this disease, the investigation of which has being his dearest Robbie. I cannot doubt that he could help me. I give Holmes his remarks as a consecutive whole and will not attempt to indicate how they were interrupted by gasping for breath and those clutch ings of his hands, which indicated the pain from which he was suffering. His appearance had changed for the worse during the few hours that I had bean with him. Those hectic spots were more pronounced. The eyes shone more brightly out of darker Hollows and a cold sweat glimmered upon his brow who still retain, however, the jaunty gallantry of his speech to the last gasp. He would always be the master. You will tell him exactly how he would have left me, said he. You will convey the very impression which is in your in mind a dying man, a dying and delirious man. Indeed, I cannot think why The whole bed of the ocean is not one solid mass of oysters so prolific the creatures seem. I am wondering. Strange how the brain controls the brain. What was I saying, Watson? My directions for Mr Covert in Smith. Yes, I remember. My life depends upon it. Plead with him. What? There is no good feeling between us. His nephew, Watson. I had suspicions of foul play and I allowed him to see it. The boy died horribly. He has a grudge against me. You will soften him, Watson. Beg him. Pray him. Get him here. By any means, he can save me. Only he I will bring him in a cab. if I have to carry him down to it. You will do nothing of this sort. You will persuade him to come and then you will return in front of him. Make any excuse. So is not to come with him. Don't forget, Watson. You won't feel me. You never did fear me. No doubt. There are natural enemies which limits the increase of the creatures. You and I, Watson. We have done our part. Shall the well then be overrun by oysters? Now? Horrible. You'll convey all that is in your mind. I left him full of the image of this magnificent intellect. Babbling like a foolish child. He had handed me the key. And with a happy thought, I took it with me, lest he should lock himself in. Mrs. Hudson was waiting, trembling and weeping in the passage behind me. As I passed from the flat, I heard Holmes's high, thin voice in some delirious chant below As I stood whistling for a cab, A mountain came on May through the fog. How is Mr Home, sir? Chaos. It was an old acquaintance, Inspector Morton of Scotland Yard, dressed in unofficial tweeds. He is very ill. I answered. He looked at me in a most singular fashion. Had it not bean to fi nish, I could have imagined that the gleam of the fan light showed exultation in his face. I heard some rumour of it, said he. The cab had driven up, and I left him lower. Bourke Street proved to be a line of fine houses lying in the vague borderland between Notting Hill and Kensington. The particular one at which my cab man pulled up had an air of smug and demure respectability in its old fashioned iron railings, its massive folding door in its shining brass work. All was in keeping with a solemn butler who appeared framed in the pink radiance of a tinted electric light behind him. Yes, Mr Calverton Smith is in. Dr Watson. Very good, sir. I will take up your card. My humble name entitled did not appear to impress Mr Corbett in Smith. Through the half open door, I heard a high, petulant, penetrating voice. Who is this person? What does he want? Naomi Staples. How often have I said that I am not to be disturbed? In my hours I've studied that came a gentle flow of soothing explanation from the butler. Well, I won't see him. Stables. I can't have my work interrupted like this. I'm not at home. Say so. Tell him to come in the morning. If he really must see me a game, The gentle mama, Well, we'll give him that message. He can come in the morning or he can stay away. My work must not be hinted. I thought of homes tossing upon his bed of sickness and counting the minutes, perhaps until I could bring help to him. It was not a time to stand upon ceremony. His life depended upon my promptness. Before the apologetic butler had delivered his message. I had pushed past him and was in the room with a shrill cry of anger. A man rose from a reclining chair beside the fire. I saw great yellow face, coarse grained and greasy, with heavy double chin and two sullen, menacing grey eyes, which glad it me from under tufted and sandy brows. Ah, hi! Bald head had a small velvet smoking cap poised coquettishly upon one side of its pink curve. The skull was of enormous capacity, And yet, as I looked down, I saw to my amazement that the figure of the man was small and frail, twisted in the shoulders and back like one who has suffered from rickets in his childhood. What's this? He cried in a high, screaming voice. What is the meaning of this intrusion? Didn't I send you word that I would see you tomorrow morning? I am sorry, said I, but the matter cannot be delayed. Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The mention of my friend's name had an extraordinary effect upon the little man. The look of anger passed in an instant from his face. His features became tense and alert. Have you come from homes? He asked. I have just left him. What about Holmes? How is he? He is desperately ill. That is why I have come. The man motioned me to a chair and turn to resume his own. As he did so I caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror over the mantelpiece. I could have sworn that it was set in a malicious and abominable smile. Yet I persuaded myself that it must have bean some nervous contraction, which I had surprised for. He turned to me an instant later with genuine concern upon his features. I am sorry to hear this, said he. I only know Mr Holmes through some business dealings, which we have had, but I have every respect for his talents and his character. He's an amateur of crime, as I am of disease. For him, the villain for me, the microbe. There are my prisons, he continued, pointing to a row of bottles and jars, which stood upon a side table among those gelatin cultivations. Some of the very worst offenders in the world are now doing time. It was on account of your special knowledge that Mr Holmes desired to see you. He has a high opinion of you and thought that you with one man in London who could help him, the little man started and the jaunty smoking cap slid to the floor. Why, he asked, why should Mr Holmes think that I could help him in his trouble because of your knowledge of Eastern diseases? But why should he think that this disease, which he has contracted, is Eastern? Because in some professional enquiry he has been working among Chinese sailors down at the docks. Mr. Colton Smith smiled presently and picked up his smoking cap. Oh, that's it. Is it city? I trust the matter is not so grave as you suppose. How long has he bean you? About three days? Is he delirious? Occasionally touch Tut. This sounds serious. It would be inhuman not to answer his call very much. Resent any interruption to my work, Doctor Watson, but this case is certainly exceptional. I will come with you at once. I remembered Holmes's injunction. I have another appointment, said I. Very good. I will go alone. I have a note of Mr Holmes's address. You can rely upon my being there within half an hour at most.