Season II Episode II - The Speckled Band

Transcript

A Case Unlike Any Other

A Terrified Visitor Arrives

Helen Stoner’s Family And Fears

The Night Of Julia’s Death

Motive, Money, And Marriage

Confrontation With Dr Roylott

SPEAKER_01 0:08

Shallow Humans and the Moon Season Two, Episode Two, The Speckled Band. In glancing over my notes of my old cases, I find some tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace. For working as I do rather for the love of my art than for the acquirement of wealth, I refuse to associate myself with any investigation which does not tend towards the unusual and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which present more singular features than that which was associated with the well known Surrey family of the Royalists of Stoke Moran. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the fact should now come to light, for I have reason to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of doctor Grimsby Roilett, which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth. It was early April, in the year eighteen eighty three, that I stood one morning fully dressed by the side of doctor Watson's bed. I was a late riser as a rule, and it was only a quarter past seven, a little early for my tastes. Watson blinked up at me in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for he himself was of regular habits. Very sorry to wake you, Watson, but it is the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been awakened also. She retorted upon me rather severely, I might add. What is it then, Holmes? A fire? No, no, no, no. A client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting in the sitting room now. When young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour in the morning, and wake sleepy people out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought at any rate that I should call upon you and give you the chance. No, Holmes, my dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything. Watson was up in a flash and rather hastily jumping into his clothes, and was ready in a few minutes to accompany me down to the sitting room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting by the window, rose as we entered. Good morning, madam. My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate doctor Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as you would before myself. Ah, I'm glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had good sense to light the fire. Pray, draw up to it. I shall order you a cup of coffee, for I observe that you are shivering. It is not the coal that makes me shiver, Mr Holmes. What then? It is fear. It is fear, Mr Holmes, it is terror. She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation. Her face was all drawn and grey, with restless, frightened eyes like those of some hunted animal. Her features and her figure were those of a woman over maybe thirty, but her hair was short with permanent grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. You must not fear. I bent forward and put my hand upon her forearm. We shall soon set matters straight. I see that you have come by train this morning. Oh you know me then? No, but I observed the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog cart along heavy roads before you reached the station. The lady gave a violent start and stared at me, in bewilderment. Oh my dear, there is no mystery at all. The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left hand side of the driver. Oh whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct. I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train from Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer. I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to, none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr Holmes. I have heard of you from Mrs. Farentosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you think that you could help me too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful. I turned to my desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case book, which I consulted. Farentosh Ah, yes, I recall the case. It was concerned with an opal tier. I think that was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession itself is its own reward, but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to at a time which suits you best, and now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter. Alas, gentlemen, the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small, small insignificant points. Which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice, looks upon all that I tell him about it as fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it in his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me. I am all attention, madam. My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Royalists of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey. Yes, yes, the name is familiar to me. The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extend over the border into Berkshire in the north and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of desolute and waste of disposition, and the family of ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and a two hundred year old house, which itself is crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living a horrible life on a risk of an aristocratic pauper. But his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained in advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree, and he went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. Well, once in a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which were perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment, and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. When Dr. Royal it was in India, he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of a major general, Major General Stoner of the Bengal artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother's remarriage. She had had a considerable sum of money, not less than a thousand a year, and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roilet entirely when we resided with him, with the provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England, my mother died. She was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roilet then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbors, who had at first been overjoyed to see a roilet of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in the house, and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whomever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family. And in my stepfather's case, I believe, it had been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over the parapet into the stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gypsies, and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble covered land which represent the family estate. And would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely over the grounds, and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master. You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us. And so we did most of the housework ourselves. She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine has. Your sister is dead then, Miss Donor. Yes, Mr Holmes. She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand, living the life which I have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Horina Westvale, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits to at the lady's house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half pay major of the Marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned, and offered no objection to the marriage, but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion. I had been leaning back in my chair with my eyes closed and my head sunk in a cushion, but I half opened my lids and I glanced across at our visitor. Pray, Miss Stoner, be precise as to all the details. It is easy for me to do so, Mr Holmes, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor house is, as I have already said, very old, and now only one wing is inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms, the first is Dr. Roylet's, the second my sister's, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain? Precisely so, madam. The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night doctor Roilet had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of those strong Indian cigars which was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back. Tell me, Helen, have you ever heard anyone whistling in the dead of the night? Never, Julia. I suppose that you could not possibly whistle yourself in your sleep? Certainly not, my dear, but but why? Because during the last few nights, I have always about three in the morning, heard a low clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from, perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I should just ask you whether you have heard it. No, my dear, I have not. It must be those wretched gypsies in the plantation. Oh yes Yes, yes, of course, Helen, very likely. And yet, if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it as well. Ah, but I sleep more lightly than you. Well, it is of no great consequence at any rate. She smiled back at me, Mr. Holmes, and then closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in her own lock. Indeed. Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night? Always, Mr. Holmes. And why exactly, Miss Stoner, do you lock yourselves in at night? I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor keeps a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked. Oh, quite so, quite so. Pray, please proceed with your statement. Well, I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins. And you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night, the wind was howling outside, and the rain beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hub and the gale, there burst forth a wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it had come from my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl around me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door, I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as the one my sister had described. And a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it in horror, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor lamp I saw my sister appear in the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms around her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way, and she fell onto the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognized me, but as I bent over her, she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget. Oh my God, Helen it was the band The speckled band. There was something else which she would have fain said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing gown. When he reached my sister's side, she was unconscience, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister. One moment, are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it? That was what the county corner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the cracking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived. Was your sister dressed? No. She was in her dressing gown. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a matchbox. Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusion did the coroner come to? He investigated the case with great care, for doctor Roy's conduct had long been notorious in the country, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and was shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her. How about poison? The doctors examined her for it, but without success. What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of then? It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine. Were the gypsies in the plantation at the time? Yes, they are nearly always there. Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band, a speckled band? Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps these very gypsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchief which of so many of them wear over their heads might have not suggested the strange adjective which she used. These are very deep waters, Miss Stoner. Pray, go on with your narrative. What two years have passed since then, and my life has been, until lately, lonier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many, many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage, Percy Armitage, the second son of Mr Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in it every night in the same bed in which she slept. Imagine then my thrill of terror when last night as I lay awake, thinking thinking over all the terrible fates that had occurred, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night that low whistle, which had been the herald of Of my sister's own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as the daylight had come, I slipped down, got a dog cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I came on this morning, with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice. You have done wisely, Miss Stoner. But have you told me all? Why, yes, Mr Holmes, I have. Miss Roilet, you have not. You are screening your stepfather. Why, what do you mean? For answer, I pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the wrist. You have been cruelly used. The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. He is a hard man, Mr Holmes, and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength. This is a very deep business. There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon a course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran today, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather? As it happens, he spoke of coming into town today upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and rather foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way. Excellent. You are not averse to such a trip, Watson? By no means, Holmes. Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself? I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town, but I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming. And you may expect us in the early afternoon. I have myself some very small business matters to attend to. My heart is lightened already, since I have confined my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you both again this afternoon. She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room. And what do you think of it all, Watson? It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business, Holmes. Yes, dark and sinister enough. Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door window and chimney are impossible, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end. Well, what becomes then of these nocturnal whistles? And what are the very peculiar words of the dying woman, Holmes? I cannot think. When you combine the ideas of whistles at night and the presence of a band of gypsies who are on intimate terms with the old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and finally the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic cling. Which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place. I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines. But what then did the Gypsies do, Holmes? I cannot imagine. I see many objections to such a theory. And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil? Our door had suddenly been dashed open, and a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and the agricultural, having a black top hat, a long frock coat, a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the crossbar of the doorway, and his breath seemed to span across the entire thing from side to side. A large face seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one of us to the other, while his deep set bile shot eyes and his high, thin, fleshless nose gave him somewhat the resemblance of a fierce old bird of prey.

SPEAKER_00 26:59

Which one of you is Holmes?

SPEAKER_01 27:02

That is my name, sir, but you have the advantage of me. I am doctor Grimsby Roilet of Stokmoran.

SPEAKER_00 27:11

Indeed, doctor Roilet, pray, take a seat. I will do no such thing. My stepdaughter has been here. I've traced her. What has she been saying to you?

SPEAKER_01 27:21

It is a little cold for the time of year. What has she been saying to you? But I have heard that the crocuses promise well. Ha, you put me off, do you? At this point our giant visitor took a step forward, shaking his hunting crop.

SPEAKER_00 27:39

I know you, you scoundrel. I've heard of you before. You are Holmes the Medler, Holmes the Busybody. Holmes the Scotland Yard Jackin office.

SPEAKER_01 27:52

Your conversation is most entertaining. When you go out, please close the door, for there is a decided draught.

SPEAKER_00 28:01

I will go when I've had my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs, Holmes. I know that Miss Stoller has been here. I traced her. I am a dangerous man to fall afoul of, Holmes. See here.

SPEAKER_01 28:16

Roylet stepped swiftly forward, seized the fire poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

SPEAKER_00 28:24

See that you keep yourself out of my grip.

Journey To Stoke Moran

The Rooms And Their Secrets

A Plan For The Night Vigil

SPEAKER_01 28:28

Hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace, he strode out of the room. Well, Watson, he seems a very amia person, don't you think? I'm not quite so bulky, but if he had remained, I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own. I picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again. Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force. This incident gives zest to our investigation. However, I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to the doctor's commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter. It was nearly one o'clock when I returned from my excursion. I held in my hand a sheet of blue paper scrawled over with notes and figures. Well, Watson, I have seen the will of the deceased's wife. To determine its exact meaning, I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investment with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife's death, was a little short of one thousand one hundred pounds, is now, through the fall of agricultural prices, not more than seven hundred fifty pounds. Each daughter can claim an income of two hundred fifty pounds in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty, doctor Roilet, would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning's work had not been wasted, since it proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interested ourselves in his affairs. So if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Ely's number two is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pogers into knots. That and a toothbrush, I think, are all we shall need. At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me, at least, there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. I sat on the front of the trap, my arms folded, my hat pulled down over my eyes, and my chin sunk upon my breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, Watson tapped me on the shoulder and pointed over the meadows. Oh say, look there, Holmes. A heavily timbered park stretched up in the gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof tree of a very old mansion. Stoke Moran, I take it. Yes, sir. That be the house of doctor Grimsby Royalet. There is some building going on there, Driver. That is where we are going. Ah, that there's the village to the left, but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to go over this style, and so by the footpath over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking. And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner, Watson. Yes, yes, I think we had better do as you suggest, driver. We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back upon its way to Leatherhead. I thought it is well, Watson, that that driver should think we had come here as maybe architects or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word. Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke of her joy. Oh, Mr Holmes, and doctor Watson, I have been eagerly awaiting you. She shook us warmly by the hand. All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roilet has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening. Ah, we have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance. In a few words I sketched out what had occurred upon the doctor's visit to our rooms at Baker Street. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. Good heavens, Mr Holmes. He has followed me then. So it appears, Miss Stoner, but not to worry. Holmes and I are both here now. He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns? He must guard himself, Miss Stoner, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. He cannot outfox Sherlock Holmes. Ah, you are too kind, my dear Watson. Miss Stoner, you must lock yourself up from him tonight. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow. Now we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine. The building was of grey, lichen blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a great crab, thrown out on either side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked up with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in. The very picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, and the right hand block was comparatively modern. With the blinds and the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, it showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stonework had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. I walked slowly up and down the ill trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows. Miss Stoner, this, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister's and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylett's chamber. Exactly so, Mr Holmes, but I'm now sleeping in the middle one. Pending the alterations, as I understand. I say, Holmes, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at this end wall. No, there were none, doctor Watson. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room. Ah, that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course? Yes, but very small ones, too narrow for anyone to pass through. As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters? Miss Stoner did so, and I, after careful examinations through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then, with my lens, I tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the mass of masonry. Hmm. My theory certainly presents some difficulties, Watson. Truly, Holmes, no one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter. A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. I refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of the old country houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow bed in another, and a dressing table on the left hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room, save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm eaten oak. They were so old and discolored that it may have dated from the original building of the house. I drew one of the chairs into the corner and sat in silence, while my eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment. Where does that bell rope communicate? I pointed to the thick bell rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually laying upon the pillow. Oh, it goes to the housekeeper's room. I say, Holmes, it it does look very new, newer than the other things. Why, yes, doctor Watson. It was only put there a couple of years ago. Your sister asked for it, I suppose. No, we never heard of her using it. We used to always get what we wanted for ourselves. Indeed. It seems unnecessary to put so nice a bell pull there. You will excuse me for a minute while I satisfy myself as to this floor. I threw myself down upon my face with my lens in my hand, and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then I did the same thing with the woodwork in which the chamber was panelled. Finally, I walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it, and in running my eye up and down the wall. Then I took the bell rope in my hand and gave it a brisk tug. Why? It's a dummy. There is no sound. What? Are you telling me it doesn't ring, Holmes? No. It's not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is. Oh, how very absurd. I never noticed that before. Yes, Holmes, it is very strange. Very strange indeed, Watson. I pulled at the rope once again. There are one or two very singular points about this room, for example, what a fool of a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when with the same amount of trouble he might have communicated with the outside air. Oh yes, that is also very modern. Done about the same time as the bell rope, I suppose. Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time. They seem to have been of a most interesting character dummy bell ropes and a ventilator which does not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researchers into your stepfather's chambers. Dr. Grimsby Royal's chamber was larger than that of his stepdaughter's, though just as plainly furnished. A camp bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met my eye. I walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest. What is in here? I tapped the top of the small safe. Oh my stepsfather's business papers. Oh, you have seen inside then? Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers. There isn't a cat in it, for example. Why no, Mr Holmes. What a strange idea. Well, look at this. I took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of the safe. No. We don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon. Ah, yes, of course. Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, after all. Oh Holmes, a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying the wants of a cheetah, I dare say. Indeed not, Watson. There is one point which I should wish to determine. I squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention. Thank you, Miss Stoner, that is quite settled. I rose and put my lens in my pocket. Hello? Here is something interesting. The object which had caught my eye was a small dog leash hung on one corner of the bed. The leash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of a whipcord. What do you make of that, Watson? Well, it's a common enough dog leash, but I don't know why it should be tied into a loop. That is not quite so common, is it? Ah me, 'tis a wicked world, and when a clever man such as doctor Royler turns his brains to crime, it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission, we shall walk out upon the lawn. I was feeling grim, and I'm sure that the darkness showed upon my brow when we turned from the scene of the investigation. I had walked several times up and down the lawn, but neither Miss Stoner nor Watson attempted to break in upon my thoughts before I was roused from my reverie. It is very essential, Miss Stoner, that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect. Oh, I shall most certainly do so, Mr Holmes. The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your complete compliance. I assure you, Mr Holmes, I am in your hands. In the first place, both doctor Watson and I must spend the night in your room. Both Miss Stoner and Dr. Watson gazed at me in astonishment. Yes, yes, look, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there. Oh yes, of course. It's called the Crown. Very good. Your windows would be visible from there, yes? Why certainly, Mr Holmes. You must confine yourself to your room on pretense of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then, when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that in spite of the repairs you could manage there for one night. Oh yes, it is easy. But what will you do? We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you. I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind. Perhaps I have. Then for pity's sake, tell me what it was what was the cause of my sister's death. I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak. You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright. No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you, for if Dr. Roilet returned and saw us, our journey would be in vain. Goodbye, and be brave. For if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you. Watson and I had no difficulty engaging a bedroom and sitting room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the Avenue Gate and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw doctor Grimsby Roilett drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some difficulty in unlocking the heavy iron gate, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clenched fist at the little boy. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as a lamp was lit in one of the sitting rooms. Do you know, Watson? I have really some scruples as to taking you to night. There is a distinct element of danger. Well, Holmes, if I can be of service, then the danger is irrelevant. Ah yes, spoken like a true soldier. Your presence might be invaluable. It is my duty to be by your side. It is very kind of you, Watson. You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in those rooms than was visible to me, Holmes. No, no, no, my friend, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did. I saw nothing remarkable save the bell rope, and what purpose that could answer, I confess, is more than I can imagine. You saw the ventilator too? Yes, indeed, Holmes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could barely pass through. I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran. My dear Holmes, surely you could not have predicted so trivial and random a detail. Oh yes, yes, I did, Watson. You remember in her statement that she said her sister could smell doctor Royal at cigar. Now, of course, that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon in the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator. Yes, but what harm could come of that? Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does that not strike you? I cannot see as yet any connection, Holmes. Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed? No. It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before? Well I cannot say I have. The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope, or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell pull. Holmes I seem to see dimly now what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime. Subtle enough, and horrible enough, but when a doctor goes wrong, as you may well know, Watson, he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchett were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper. But I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the evening is over. For goodness sake, let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to some more cheerful thoughts. About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the manor house. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us. That is our signal, Watson. It comes from the middle window. We sprang to our feet. As we made our exit, I exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it would be possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us to our somber errand. There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breeches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window, when out from the clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the ground with writhing limbs, and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness.

SPEAKER_00 50:11

My God, Holmes, did you see it?

The Signal And The Vigil

SPEAKER_01 50:14

Yes. That is the baboon. Isn't this a fine household, Watson? I had forgotten the strange pets which doctor Grimsby Royal had affected. There was a cheetah too. Perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. Watson noiselessly closed the shutters behind us. I moved the lamp onto the table and cast my eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. I crept up to Watson, and making a trumpet of my hand, I whispered into his ear the least sound would be fatal to our plans. Watson nodded to show he had heard.

SPEAKER_00 50:58

We must sit without light, Watson. He would see it through the ventilator. Watson nodded again. Do not go to sleep. Your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair.

The Speckled Band Revealed

Holmes Explains The Method

SPEAKER_01 51:20

Watson took out his revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. I had brought up a long thin cane, and this I placed upon the bed beside me. By it I laid a box of matches and a stump of a candle, then I turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness. How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open eyed within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness. From outside came the occasional cry of a nightbird, and once, at our very window, a long drawn cat like whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock which boomed out every quarter of an hour, how long they seemed those quarters, twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall us. Suddenly, there was a momentary gleam of light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once again, though the smell seemed to have grown at least a little bit stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible, a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuingly from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, I sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with my cane at the bell pull. D'ye see it, Watson? D'ye see it At the moment, when I struck the light, I heard a low clear whistle. I lashed so savagely at the bell rope, I could feel the blood drain away from my face, and I am sure Watson could see the horror and loathing in my expression. I had ceased to strike, and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night a most horrible cry to which I had ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their bed. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Watson and he at me until at last the echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose. My God, Holmes, what could it mean? It means that all is over, and perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take out your pistol, Watson, and we will enter doctor Roylett's room. With what was surely a grave face, I lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice I struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then I turned the handle and entered, Watson at my heels, with the cocked pistol in his hand. It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark lantern, with one shutter half open, throwing a brilliant gleam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Besides this table, on the wooden chair sat Dr. Grimsby Roilett clad in a long grey dressing gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red, heeless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stalk, with the long dog leash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upwards, and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band with brownish spots, which seemed to be bound tightly around his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. The band, Watson, the speckled band. I took a step forward. In an instant doctor Roilet's strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. It is a swamp adder, Watson. The deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened. As I spoke I drew the long leash swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck, I threw it from its horrible perch, and carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the safe, which I closed upon it. Such are the facts of the death of doctor Grimsby Roilet of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, and how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. Watson and I reviewed the details of the strange and murderous case the next day. I say, Watson, I had come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows how danger it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gypsies and the use of the word band, which was used by the poor girl no doubt to explain the appearance which she had caught in a hurried glimpse by the light of a match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come from either the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator and to the bell rope which hung down by the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming into the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, well I concluded that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison could take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp eyed corner indeed who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to its victim. He had trained it probably by the use of the milk, which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through the ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant. Perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim. I had come to these conclusions before I had ever entered doctor Roylet's room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of the dog leash were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss, as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it. Oh with the result of driving it through the ventilator, and also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it attacked the next person it saw. In that case, Holmes, you are no doubt indirectly responsible for doctor Grimsby Roilett's death. Guilty as charged, my dear Watson, I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience. Adapted and performed by J. P. Winslow, based on the original writings of Sir Arthur Conan Dorle.