Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes

  Holmes’s face was pale. I could see that he was afraid. I had no chance to ask what had happened. Suddenly the quiet of the night was broken by a scream. It was the most terrible sound I had ever heard. It made my heart cold. They say that people heard the cry all the way down in the village.

  Text copyright © 1982 by Random House, Inc. Text illustrations copyright © 1982 by Lyle Miller. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in a slightly different form by Random House, Inc., in 1982.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Conaway, Judith.

  Mysteries of Sherlock. Holmes : based on the stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle / by Judith Conaway ; illustrated by Lyle Miller.

  p. cm.

  “A Stepping Stone Book.”

  SUMMARY: Amateur detective Sherlock Holmes, the master of deductive reasoning, solves several mysteries with the aid of his friend, Dr. John Watson.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-78904-4

  [1. Detective and mystery stories, American. 2. Children’s stories, American. 3. Holmes, Sherlock (Fictitious character)—Juvenile literature. 4. Mystery and detective stories. 5. Short stories.] I. Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859–1930. II. Miller, Lyle, ill. III. Title. IV. Series.

  PZ7.C7575My 2005 [Fic]—dc22 2004018456

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Adventure of the Speckled Band

  The Red-headed League

  The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

  The Adventure of the Speckled Band

  It was early in April 1883. At this time I was living with Sherlock Holmes. We had rooms at 221B Baker Street.

  One morning I woke up early. Holmes was standing by my bed. He was already dressed. I looked up at him in surprise. My clock showed that it was only seven. Holmes got up late, as a rule.

  “Very sorry to wake you up, Watson,” he said.

  “What is it?” I asked. “A fire?”

  “No. It is a young lady. She just came in. She says she must see me. It looks like a case, Watson. I thought you would want to be in on it from the first.”

  I put on my clothes. In a few minutes I was ready. We went down to the sitting room.

  A lady got to her feet. She was dressed in black. We saw that her face was gray. Her eyes looked like those of a hunted animal.

  “Good morning,” said Holmes. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. And this is Dr. Watson. He is my dear friend. Please tell us everything.”

  “My name is Helen Stoner,” said the lady. “I am living with my stepfather. His name is Dr. Grimesby Roylott. He is the last living Roylott. The Roylotts have been at Stoke Moran for hundreds of years.”

  Holmes nodded. “I know the name,” said he.

  Miss Stoner went on. “At one time the Roylott family was one of the richest in England. But in the last one hundred years all has changed. Five heads of the family in a row were bad men. They did not take care of their lands. They wasted all the family’s money. At last nothing was left. Nothing except a little land and a two-hundred-year-old house.

  “My stepfather saw how things were. He knew he would have to make his own way. So he went to school and became a doctor. Then he went to India.

  “In India, Dr. Roylott married my mother. My father had died just the year before. My twin sister, Julia, and I were only two years old when Dr. Roylott became our stepfather.

  “My mother had some money—a thousand pounds a year. When she married Dr. Roylott, she made a new will. She left her money to him. The will also said that Roylott must take care of Julia and me.

  “My mother died the year we came back to England. Dr. Roylott then took me and Julia to Stoke Moran. My mother’s money was enough for all of us to live on. We could have had a good life.

  “But after my mother died, my stepfather was a changed man. He made no friends around his old neighborhood. He would fight anyone he came across.

  “Now everyone in the village is afraid of my stepfather. He is as strong as he is crazy. People stay out of his way.

  “His only friends are a band of gypsies. He lets these people camp on his land. Sometimes he goes out and visits them in their tents.

  “Then there are the wild animals. He brought them from India. There is a cheetah and a baboon. These two animals have the run of the place.

  “From the first, my sister, Julia, and I had a very bad time. No one wanted to work at the house. We had to do all the work ourselves. Julia was only thirty when she died. But her hair was already getting white. You can see that my hair is getting white too.”

  “Your sister is dead, then?” Holmes asked.

  “She died two years ago. It is of her death that I wish to speak. My sister and I did not get many chances to leave Stoke Moran. But we have an aunt. My stepfather let Julia and me pay short visits to her house.

  “On one of those visits, my sister met a young man. She fell in love with him. They planned to marry. My stepfather said nothing against her marriage. But less than two weeks later, Julia was dead.”

  Sherlock Holmes had been sitting back in his chair. But at these last words he sat up. His eyes opened.

  “Please give us every little fact,” said he.

  “That will be easy,” Helen Stoner said. “Every little bit of that night will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. As I have said, the house is very old. We live in only one wing of it. All our bedrooms are on the ground floor. The first bedroom is Dr. Roylott’s. The second bedroom was my sister’s. The third bedroom is mine. There are no doors between the bedrooms. But they all open out onto the same long hall.

  “On the night Julia died, Dr. Roylott went to his room early. But we knew he had not gone to sleep. Julia could smell his cigars.

  “Julia never could stand that smell. So she came to my room. We sat there for some time, talking about her wedding. At eleven o’clock she got up to go. But then she stopped at the door. She looked back at me.

  “ ‘Tell me, Helen,’ she said. ‘Have you ever heard someone whistling in the dead of night?’

  “ ‘Never,’ said I.

  “ ‘You’re sure you don’t whistle in your sleep?’ she asked.

  “ ‘No, I don’t,’ I said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  “ ‘I ask because I keep hearing a whistle. I hear it about three o’clock every morning. I am a light sleeper. The whistle always wakes me up. I cannot tell where the whistle is coming from. Maybe it’s coming from the next room. Maybe it’s coming from outside. But I just thought I would ask if you had heard it.’

  “ ‘No,’ I said. ‘I have not. Maybe it is those gypsies camping out there.’

  “ ‘That must be it,’ she said. Then she said good night. I heard her go down the hall. Then I heard her turn the key in the door.”

  “Hmm,” said Holmes. “Did you always lock yourselves in at night?”

  “Always. We were afraid of the cheetah and the baboon.”

  “Quite so. Please go on with your story.”

  “I could not sleep that night. You will remember that my sister and I were twins. They say twins can feel things that are happening to each other.

  “It was a wild night. The wind was blowing hard. The rain beat against the window. />
  “All of a sudden I heard a scream. It was my sister’s voice! I jumped up from my bed. I ran into the hall. It was then that I heard a low whistle! A few seconds later I heard a clanging sound.

  “I ran to my sister’s door. It started to open. My sister came to the door. Her face was white with fear. She could not stand up.

  “I ran to her. I threw my arms around her. She fell to the floor. I bent over her. Then she spoke. I will never forget her voice. ‘Oh, my God, Helen!’ she said. ‘It was the band! The speckled band!’ And then, Mr. Holmes, she died!”

  “One moment,” said Holmes. “Are you sure about this whistle? And about the clanging sound? You are sure you heard them?”

  “I am sure,” said Helen Stoner.

  “Was your sister dressed to go out?” asked Holmes.

  “No. She was in her nightdress. We found a candle in her hand.”

  “Hmm. So she must have tried to make a light. What did the police say about the case?”

  “They looked into it with great care,” replied Helen Stoner. “They knew Dr. Roylott, you see. But they could not find out how Julia died. The windows were closed from the inside, with heavy bars. The walls were thick. The floor was thick too. There was no way any person could have come in the room—except through the door.”

  “And you are sure the door was locked?” Holmes asked again.

  Miss Stoner said that she was sure.

  Holmes shook his head. I could see he was not happy. “This looks very bad,” he said. “Please go on with your story.”

  “Two years have gone by since Julia died,” said Miss Stoner. “My life has been very sad. But about a month ago a man asked me to marry him. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage. We are going to be married this spring.

  “My stepfather has said nothing against the match. But two days ago he told me that I must move into my sister’s room. He said he had to fix the wall in my room. So I moved next door—into the very room in which Julia died!

  “Last night I lay there, thinking about Julia. And then I heard it! A long, low whistle! It was the same sound Julia had talked about—on the night she had died!

  “I jumped up and lit a candle. I could see nothing in the room. But I could not go back to bed. I got dressed. I waited for daylight. And then I came right here, to ask your help.”

  Holmes said nothing for a long time. Then he spoke. “We must act right away,” he said. “I will come to Stoke Moran this afternoon, Miss Stoner. Can I get into the house without Dr. Roylott knowing it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He said he would be away all day.”

  “Good. You go back home, then,” Holmes said. “We will come down on an early afternoon train.”

  Miss Stoner left the room.

  “And what do you think of it all, Watson?” Holmes asked.

  “It is a very dark business,” I said.

  “I am afraid it is. But we do have some clues. We have her words, ‘the speckled band.’ We know that a band of gypsies was camping on the land. They could have whistled. Then there was the clanging sound. That might have been a gypsy too. It could have been the clanging of a window bar.”

  “I see many things wrong with that idea,” I said.

  “So do I,” said Holmes. “That is why we are going to Stoke Moran.

  “Let’s order breakfast, Watson. Then I shall walk downtown. I’ll need some facts before we do anything else.”

  It was one o’clock when Holmes got back. He had a blue paper in his hand. It had notes and numbers all over it.

  “I have seen the will of Dr. Roylott’s wife,” he said. “She left a thousand pounds, all right. But each girl was to get two hundred and fifty pounds when she got married. If the girls died before getting married, Roylott would get all the money. So you see why Dr. Roylott wanted Julia and Helen dead.

  “We had better get going, Watson. And I would like it very much if you would bring your gun.”

  We went down to Waterloo Station. We caught the next train out. Then we found a horse and cart to take us to Stoke Moran.

  Helen Stoner met us at the Stoke Moran gate. “I have been waiting for you!” she cried.

  “Don’t worry,” said Holmes. “We will soon get to the bottom of this. Now, please show me the house.”

  Helen Stoner showed us where the bedrooms were. First Holmes walked along the outside of the house. He looked at the windows. He asked Miss Stoner to go into her own room and close the windows. Then he tried to get in. He had no luck.

  Next we went to the room where Julia Stoner had died. It was a small room with a low ceiling. Holmes sat down on one of the chairs. He looked the whole room over. He did not speak for a while.

  “Why, here is a bellpull,” he said. He pointed to a long rope on the wall. “In what part of the house does the bell ring?”

  “Downstairs,” Helen Stoner said. “My stepfather put it in two years ago. The bell is for calling the servants. But we never use it.”

  Holmes walked over to the bellpull. He gave it a strong tug. “Why, it is a dummy,” he said. “It doesn’t even ring. See? It just hangs from that wire up there. The wire above the air vent.

  “And by the way—what is that air vent doing up there? An air hole should go to the outside. That one seems to go into the next room. Hmm. I think I shall have a look.”

  We went into Dr. Roylott’s room. In it were only three things. A camp bed. A wooden chair. And a large iron safe with a lamp on it.

  Holmes tapped the safe. “What is in here?” he asked.

  “My stepfather’s papers,” replied Helen Stoner.

  “Are you sure there isn’t a cat in that safe?” asked Holmes. “Look at this!” He picked up a small dish of milk.

  “We don’t keep a cat,” said Miss Stoner. “Just the cheetah and the baboon.”

  “This milk would not go far with a cheetah,” said Holmes. “And what’s this?” He held up a small dog leash. The end of it had been tied in a loop.

  I have never seen my friend’s face so dark. We went outside. We walked up and down the yard several times. Then Holmes spoke to Miss Stoner.

  “You must do exactly as I tell you,” he said. “It could mean your life.” She nodded.

  “See that inn across the street?” asked Holmes. “We will go there now. We will watch the house from there. Tonight I want you to go to bed in your sister’s room. Just as you did last night. Then wait until you hear Dr. Roylott go to bed. At that moment open and close the window. It will be a signal to Dr. Watson and me. Then go to your own room and wait.

  “Watson and I will be waiting for your signal. Then we will leave the inn. We are going to spend the night in Julia’s room.”

  “I think you already know what happened, Mr. Holmes,” said Helen Stoner. “Please tell me. How did my sister die?”

  “We are not sure yet,” said Holmes. “We must leave you now, Miss Stoner. We must not let the doctor see us. Until tonight, then.”

  Holmes and I went to the inn to wait. We had a room from which we could see Stoke Moran. At about seven we saw Dr. Roylott get home. We knew it was he. We could hear him yelling at the boy who opened the gates.

  At about nine o’clock the lights in the house went out. All was dark. Two hours passed. Then we saw a light flash out from the middle window.

  “That’s our signal,” said Holmes. A moment later we were out on the dark road. A cold wind blew in our faces. We made our way over the old stone wall and across the yard. We got in through the window of Julia’s room.

  We had to be very quiet. The smallest sound might wake Dr. Roylott next door. We did not dare have a light, either. Roylott might see it through the air vent. So as soon as we were safe, we blew out the candle. I had my gun ready.

  “Do not go to sleep,” whispered Holmes. “You may lose your life if you do.”

  How shall I ever forget that long wait? I could not hear a sound. We were in the dark. We heard the clock strike twelve. Then one. Then two. Then three.


  Suddenly I saw a flash of light. It had come through the air vent! Then all was quiet again.

  In a moment I heard another sound. It was a soft hiss. It sounded like steam coming out of a kettle. Holmes jumped up. He lit a match. He began to beat at the wall with his stick.

  “You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”

  But I saw nothing. At the moment Holmes lit the match, I had heard a low whistle. But I could not see what Holmes was hitting.

  I lit the candle. Holmes’s face was pale. I could see that he was afraid.

  I had no chance to ask what had happened. Suddenly the quiet of the night was broken by a scream. It was the most terrible sound I had ever heard. It made my heart cold. They say that people heard the cry all the way down in the village.

  “What can it mean?” I asked.

  “It means that it is all over,” Holmes said. “Bring your gun. We will go into Dr. Roylott’s room.”

  A strange sight met our eyes. The lamp stood on the safe. The safe was open. In the chair next to the safe lay Dr. Roylott. The dog leash we had seen earlier was on his lap. His dead eyes looked up at the ceiling. And around his head there was a yellow band. It had brown spots on it.

  “The band!” said Holmes. “The speckled band!”

  The band began to move. It lifted its head. It was a snake!

  “It is a swamp adder. The most dangerous snake in India,” said Holmes.

  “Let’s put it back in its cage.”

  Holmes picked up the dog leash. He looped it around the snake’s head. He carried the snake to the safe and closed the door.

  This story is getting too long. So I will not say too much about how we broke the news to poor Helen Stoner. Or about how we took her to her aunt’s house. Or about how the police said that Dr. Roylott had died by accident. They said he had been playing with a dangerous pet.

  Holmes filled me in on his side of the case. “As soon as I saw that bellpull, I knew,” he said. “It was there for some reason. It did not ring the bell. So it must have something to do with that air vent. Then I remembered. Helen Stoner had said that Julia could smell cigar smoke. So that air vent must go into Dr. Roylott’s room!