[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

We went into the house on Brook Street.The room was completely dark, no lights were turned on, only the faint light of the street lamp came in from the window, which even Dr. Trevelyan felt baffled.We found the stairs to the second floor in the dark, and the young doctor called up:

"Mr. Blessington, turn on the light. Here comes Mr. Holmes and his colleagues."

A trembling voice came from upstairs:

"I can't leave this room, you come up."

I sighed and was about to go up the stairs when Holmes grabbed me from behind as soon as I lifted my foot.

"Mr. Blessington, this is Sherlock Holmes. Now my student is going to turn on the light. Please do not point a gun or any other weapon at her."

I went up and touched the edge of the door frame for a long time, and finally caught the light cord, and the room was lit.

"Thanks, Nightingale. I know there is little difference in your eyesight with or without a light at night."

"Why don't you just say that day and night are the same for me?"

"There is still a certain difference. Now, Mr. Blessington, allow me to introduce."

I was so near that I could see this gentleman clearly.He was standing at the door of the bedroom, very careful not to take half a step beyond the threshold, his face was pale, and it could be seen from his eyes that this person was on the verge of mental breakdown.He had a gun in his hand, and Holmes guessed rightly, from the nervous tone of his voice, that Dr. Trevelyan would have shot at the moment if he had gone straight to the door without warning.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my student, Miss Angela Nightingale." He gently dragged me behind his back as he spoke. "That is my friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson."

"Thank God, Mr. Holmes, there is no help. I sleep with my door locked at night. Come in, and I will tell you how it goes."

Dr Trevelyan's concerns are justified.Mr. Blessington doesn't want to tell us the whole truth.

Holmes and Watson tried to get him to confess whether he knew the two strange patients, but he denied it, insisting that he was only afraid that his money would be stolen.While they were talking I wandered about the big bedroom and finally talked to Trevelyan at the window about the day.Perhaps that little information was enough for Holmes to draw some conclusions, but not for me.

"Does Mr. Blessington smoke?" I said. "It smells faintly of cigarettes."

"He smokes cigars, and only Havanas," answered the doctor.

"You allow patients to smoke?"

"There is no major problem with his health, and smoking is still okay."

I gently touched the large and heavy floor-to-ceiling blackout curtains with my hand.It blocks the windows tightly. "Is it okay to smoke so much? It feels like the curtains are soaked in the smell of smoke, and they should have been washed long ago."

"Perhaps Mr. Blessington is afraid to take it off. I'm sorry, miss, but it's best not to touch it. He hasn't been seen for a long time, and he doesn't open it day and night. He will be furious if anyone leaves a crack in the curtain."

"Sorry." I retracted my hand.At this moment Holmes came.

"Nightingale, we can go. Mr. Blessington doesn't seem to need our help yet, because he doesn't want to tell the truth yet."

"Is there really no advice for me?" cried Blessington.

"No comment." Holmes signaled Watson, who was still hesitating, not to make any more useless efforts. "My ability is based on information. The client didn't tell anything and asked me to help him desperately. despair."

I shook my head at Trewilliam.In this case, there is nothing anyone can do.

On the carriage back home, Holmes said nothing.Now he was as gentle as a deer again.

"It's not normal for a person with no major health problems to be hospitalized. He must be hiding something," I said.

"Obvious."

"Are you sure he knows who it is?"

"Definitely. His fear proves it. The ignorant are fearless."

"As an aside, is it Mozart this time?"

"No, my dear Nightingale, just annoyed."

"Then get mad at the carriage floor, not my feet."

"Feel sorry."

Early the next morning, I was woken up by Mrs. Hudson.This time it is a letter from Scotland Yard, asking Holmes to come over immediately because Blessington has been murdered.

The three of us hurried over again.Dr. Trevelyan was present.Detective Lannor, who was also there, exchanged a few words with Holmes, at which point the detective turned to me and said:

"I think you should wait outside for the time being. The person in the room died too badly, and you don't have that strong mental capacity yet."

"How did he die?" asked Watson.

"Terrible, doctor, with a knife slit throat. Blood everywhere. Terrible," replied the officer.

Holmes whistled so harshly on the occasion that I even saw Lannor frown.

I had to sit in the first-floor living room and watch the police take notes on the Blessington maid.When Holmes came out, he frowned. I knew it was not going to be easy.Instead of telling us what he found, he first asked Dr. Trevelyan:

"Did anything special happen last night after we left?"

"what you mean?"

"For example, unusual voices."

"Maybe not."

"How is Mr. Blessington?"

"Very bad, frankly. He stayed in the living room for a while and then went back to the bedroom, but was too nervous to sleep and I had to give him a little sedative."

"This should be detectable," Watson said.

"He was killed while he was sleeping," Holmes ignored Watson's untimely words. "Shooting the victim from the throat will prevent the victim from shouting. One person is enough, and he can run away immediately after committing the crime."

"The knife that committed the crime was at the scene and was thrown on the bed. Are you sure it wasn't suicide?"

"Dear Lannor, before you speak, please imagine who commits suicide and chooses the most painful way possible. And it is impossible to cause such a knife wound from your own point of view."

"Ok."

"Can we be sure that the murderer was one of the two men who came to the clinic that day?" Watson said.

"Yes. They frightened Blessington that way after all. He obviously knew why they wanted to kill him."

"The problem is how this man got in. According to the maid, the door was locked from the inside when he was sleeping, but now the door is unlocked, and it is locked properly. It was not opened by prying, but opened normally." Lannoer explain.

"Any other keys?"

"No," said Dr. Trevelyan. "Only one, which he keeps strictly to himself, and keeps all the keys in his bedside cabinet when he sleeps. Is the key still there?"

"It was there when we came in," Lanoer added in a timely manner, "Now it's taken away for evidence collection."

"Is there an internal response?" I said,

"That's not sure, but it's possible. The nurse went home from get off work, and the only ones in the house at night were the maid who found the body and the footman."

"Send the footman," said Holmes. "I will ask him."

Lannor brought the footman.He was a neat young man of short stature.

"Did you see the patient come in at the door yesterday afternoon?"

"Yes," said the footman, "but I was not at the door."

"where did you go?"

"The courtyard wall needs to be repainted. The workers came yesterday. I went to have a look. It was then. There was still a letter to the London Hospital to be sent, because it was delayed for a while."

"What did you see?"

"The old gentleman came in."

"Did you see them when they left?"

"I saw the old man go away, but I didn't see his son."

"Wait," interrupted Dr. Trevelyan, "that's not what you told me yesterday."

The atmosphere became tense.The page looked at the doctor in amazement, and the doctor's piercing eyes examined him.

"You clearly said yesterday that you didn't see anyone coming out."

"Because you didn't ask," said the footman. "You asked 'did you see a young man come out?'. I didn't see that. But when the old gentleman was leaving, I saw him go out to hail a taxi."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing."

Holmes dismissed the footman without saying anything.

"There are few clues," said the police officer. "This man was very quick and left almost nothing, except for a few incomplete footprints."

"There are not many clues," Holmes said calmly. "It's just that I still need to think about it. Regarding Mr. Blessington, for example, what criminal record he has, the police should have found out during our absence, right?"

"Like he only smokes Havanas or something," I said.

"No, Nightingale. He smokes Dutch cigarettes."

"what?"

"Didn't you say yesterday that there was a smell of smoke in the room? Those were cigars imported from the Netherlands. I'm sure I'm not wrong about that."

I smiled wryly.

"I am sure you are right, Holmes, but Dr. Trevelyan himself told me that Blessington smokes only Havanas."

Everyone was silent.Holmes' expression was unnatural, as if he didn't want to say the following words.

"That's in line with my speculation." He said, "Lannoll, the marks on the carpet are indeed messy, but the footprints behind the curtains have remained clear and complete because no one has damaged them. They are on the windows and the floor Between the curtains, it is not easy to be found."

"It's hell. Who's gonna go there?"

"There are still hairs, and marks left by someone on the wall and windowsill. Nightingale, you should understand, right? Indeed, he doesn't need to go in through the locked door."

"Holmes..."

"Dutch cigars do have the smell of smoke, but most people don't notice it. Even if they notice, most of them will be like you, unable to distinguish the type. Besides, you think the smoke smell is from the curtains. Although it is still a little vague place, but that’s basically it.”

I suddenly felt creepy.

"So he's in the house, right? Just last night, when I was talking to the doctor in there, I even tugged at the curtains...he's standing behind the curtains!"

"Is it true, Mr. Holmes?" said Dr. Trevelyan anxiously. "You think so too?"

Holmes was silent and noncommittal.

The author has something to say: This case, it seems that there is nothing wrong with girls. After I changed it, it is much simpler than before. Holmes, you can solve it in seconds!

And tomorrow is full class until night, so it is expected to stop. . .The wooden method is a blast on Monday and Wednesday. . .Thank you little angels for your support!