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1、1891SHERLOCK HOLMESTHE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIPby Sir Arthur Conan DoyleIsa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal ofthe Theological College of St. Georges, was much addicted to opium.He habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freakwhen he was at college; for hav
2、ing read De Quinceys description ofhis dreams and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanumin an attempt to produce the same effects. He found, as so many morehave done, that the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of,and for many years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an
3、 objectof mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see himnow, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, allhuddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble man.One night-it was in June, 89-there came a ring to my bell, aboutthe hour when a man gives his first
4、 yawn and glances at the clock. Isat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lapand made a little face of disappointment.A patient! said she. Youll have to go out.I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day.We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick st
5、epsupon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in somedark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.You will excuse my calling so late, she began, and then,suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her armsabout my wifes neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. O
6、h, Im in suchtrouble! she cried; I do so want a little help.Why, said my wife, pulling up her veil, it is Kate Whitney. Howyou startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you camein.I didnt know what to do, so I came straight to you. That wasalways the way. Folk who were in grief came to
7、my wife like birds to alight-house.It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wineand water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Orshould you rather that I sent James off to bed?Oh, no, no! I want the doctors advice and help, too. Its aboutIsa. He has not been home for
8、two days. I am so frightened about him!It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husbandstrouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and schoolcompanion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we couldfind. Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that
9、wecould bring him back to her?It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late hehad, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthesteast of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined toone day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in theeveni
10、ng. But now the spell had been upon him eight-and forty hours,and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing inthe poison or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found,she was sure of it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. Butwhat was she to do? How could she, a
11、young and timid woman, make herway into such a place and pluck her husband out from among theruffians who surrounded him?There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it.Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought,why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney
12、s medical adviser, andas such I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I werealone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cabwithin two hours if he were indeed at the address which she hadgiven me. And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheerysitting-room b
13、ehind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on astrange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future onlycould show how strange it was to be.But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of myadventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind thehigh wharves which l
14、ine the north side of the river to the east ofLondon Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by asteep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth ofa cave, I found the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab towait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in the cen
15、tre by theceaseless tread of drunken feet and by the light of a flickeringoillamp above the door I found the latch and made my way into along, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, andterraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship.Through the gloom one could dim
16、ly catch a glimpse of bodies lying instrange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrownback, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark,lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadowsthere glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, ast
17、he burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. Themost lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talkedtogether in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversationcoming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, eachmumbling out his own thoughts and
18、paying little heed to the words ofhis neighbour. At the farther end was a small brazier of burningcharcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat atall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and hiselbows upon his knees, staring into the fire.As I entered, a sallow M
19、alay attendant had hurried up with a pipefor me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth.Thank you. I have not come to stay, said I. There is a friendof mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peeringthrough
20、the gloom I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt staringout at me.My God! Its Watson, said he. He was in a pitiable state ofreaction, with every nerve in a twitter. I say, Watson, whatoclock is it?Nearly eleven.Of what day?Of Friday, June 19th.Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wedne
21、sday. Whatdyou want to frighten the chap for? He sank his face onto his armsand began to sob in a high treble key.I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waitingthis two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!So I am. But youve got mixed, Watson, for I have only been herea few
22、 hours, three pipes, four pipes-I forget how many. But Ill gohome with you. I wouldnt frighten Kate-poor little Kate. Give me yourhand! Have you a cab?Yes, I have one waiting.Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe,Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself.I w
23、alked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers,holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of thedrug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall manwho sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a lowvoice whispered, Walk past me, and then
24、look back at me. The wordsfell quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could onlyhave come from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now asabsorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opiumpipe dangling down from between his knees, as though it had dropped insheer lassi
25、tude from his fingers. I took two steps forward andlooked back. It took all my self-control to prevent me from breakingout into a cry of astonishment. He had turned his back so that nonecould see him but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles weregone, the dull eyes had regained their fire, and th
26、ere, sitting by thefire and grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes.He made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as heturned his face half round to the company once more, subsided into adoddering, loose-lipped senility.Holmes! I whispered, what on earth are you
27、doing in this den?As low as you can, he answered; I have excellent ears. If youwould have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend ofyours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you.I have a cab outside.Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for heappea
28、rs to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommendyou also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that youhave thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shallbe with you in five minutes.It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmess requests, forthey were alwa
29、ys so exceedingly definite, and put forward with sucha quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was onceconfined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and forthe rest, I could not wish anything better than to be associatedwith my friend in one of those singular adventur
30、es which were thenormal condition of his existence. In a few minutes I had written mynote, paid Whitneys bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driventhrough the darkness. In a very short time a decrepit figure hademerged from the opium den, and I was walking down the street withSherlock Holmes.
31、 For two streets he shuffled along with a bent backand an uncertain foot. Then, glancing quickly round, he straightenedhimself out and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.I suppose, Watson, said he, that you imagine that I have addedopium smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other littleweakne
32、sses on which you have favoured me with your medical views.I was certainly surprised to find you there.But not more so than I to find you.I came to find a friend.And I to find an enemy.An enemy?Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey.Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a v
33、ery remarkable inquiry, and Ihave hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots,as I have done before now. Had I been recognized in that den my lifewould not have been worth an hours purchase; for I have used itbefore now for my own purposes, and the rascally lascar who runs ithas s
34、worn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at theback of that building, near the corner of Pauls Wharf, which couldtell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon themoonless nights.What! You do not mean bodies?Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had L1000 for everyp
35、oor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilestmurder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St.Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should behere. He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistledshrilly-a signal which was answered by a
36、similar whistle from thedistance, followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink ofhorses hoofs.Now, Watson, said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through thegloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its sidelanterns. Youll come with me, wont you?If I can be of use.Oh,
37、a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler stillmore so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.The Cedars?Yes; that is Mr. St. Clairs house. I am staying there while Iconduct the inquiry.Where is it, then?Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us.But I am all in the dar
38、k.Of course you are. Youll know all about it presently. Jump uphere. All right, John; we shall not need you. Heres half a crown.Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her head. So long,then!He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through theendless succession of sombre and dese
39、rted streets, which widenedgradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge,with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay anotherdull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by theheavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts ofs
40、ome belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowlyacross the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and therethrough the rifts of the clouds Holmes drove in silence, with hishead sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost inthought, while I sat beside him, curious to le
41、arn what this newquest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yetafraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had drivenseveral miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the beltof suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, andlit up his pipe w
42、ith the air of a man who has satisfied himself thathe is acting for the best.You have a grand gift of silence, Watson, said he. It makes youquite invaluable as a companion. Pon my word, it is a great thing forme to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are notover-pleasant. I was wondering wh
43、at I should say to this dear littlewoman to-night when she meets me at the door.You forget that I know nothing about it.I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case beforewe get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet somehow, I can getnothing to go upon. Theres plenty of thread, no do
44、ubt, but I cantget the end of it into my hand. Now, Ill state the case clearly andconcisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all isdark to me.Proceed then.Some years ago-to be definite, in May, 1884-there came to Lee agentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty ofmoney. He took a large Villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, andlived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in theneighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a localbrewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no o
