福尔摩斯-红圈会 The Red Circle（1）

The Red Circle

Arthur Conan Doyle

Chapter I.

Part One

“Well, Mrs. Warren, I cannot see that you have any particular cause for uneasiness, nor do I understand why I, whose time is of some value, should interfere in the matter. I really have other things to engage me.” So spoke Sherlock Holmes and turned back to the great scrapbook in which he was arranging and indexing some of his recent material.

But the landlady had the pertinacity and also the cunning of her sex. She held her ground firmly.

“You arranged an affair for a lodger of mine last year,” she said—“Mr. Fairdale Hobbs.”

“Ah, yes—a simple matter.”

“But he would never cease talking of it—your kindness, sir, and the way in which you brought light into the darkness. I remembered his words when I was in doubt and darkness myself. I know you could if you only would.”

Holmes was accessible upon the side of flattery, and also, to do him justice, upon the side of kindliness. The two forces made him lay down his gum-brush with a sigh of resignation and push back his chair.

“Well, well, Mrs. Warren, let us hear about it, then. You don't object to tobacco, I take it? Thank you, Watson—the matches! You are uneasy, as I understand, because your new lodger remains in his rooms and you cannot see him. Why, bless you, Mrs. Warren, if I were your lodger you often would not see me for weeks on end.”

“No doubt, sir; but this is different. It frightens me, Mr. Holmes. I can't sleep for fright. To hear his quick step moving here and moving there from early morning to late at night, and yet never to catch so much as a glimpse of him—it's more than I can stand. My husband is as nervous over it as I am, but he is out at his work all day, while I get no rest from it. What is he hiding for? What has he done? Except for the girl, I am all alone in the house with him, and it's more than my nerves can stand.”

Holmes leaned forward and laid his long, thin fingers upon the woman's shoulder. He had an almost hypnotic power of soothing when he wished. The scared look faded from her eyes, and her agitated features smoothed into their usual commonplace. She sat down in the chair which he had indicated.

“If I take it up I must understand every detail,” said he. “Take time to consider. The smallest point may be the most essential. You say that the man came ten days ago and paid you for a fortnight's board and lodging?”

“He asked my terms, sir. I said fifty shillings a week. There is a small sitting-room and bedroom, and all complete, at the top of the house.”

“Well?”

“He said, ‘I'll pay you five pounds a week if I can have it on my own terms.’ I'm a poor woman, sir, and Mr. Warren earns little, and the money meant much to me. He took out a ten-pound note, and he held it out to me then and there. ‘You can have the same every fortnight for a long time to come if you keep the terms,’ he said. ‘If not, I'll have no more to do with you.’

“What were the terms?”

“Well, sir, they were that he was to have a key of the house. That was all right. Lodgers often have them. Also, that he was to be left entirely to himself and never, upon any excuse, to be disturbed.”

“Nothing wonderful in that, surely?”

“Not in reason, sir. But this is out of all reason. He has been there for ten days, and neither Mr. Warren, nor I, nor the girl has once set eyes upon him. We can hear that quick step of his pacing up and down, up and down, night, morning, and noon; but except on that first night he had never once gone out of the house.”

“Oh, he went out the first night, did he?”

“Yes, sir, and returned very late—after we were all in bed. He told me after he had taken the rooms that he would do so and asked me not to bar the door. I heard him come up the stair after midnight.”

“But his meals?”

“It was his particular direction that we should always, when he rang, leave his meal upon a chair, outside his door. Then he rings again when he has finished, and we take it down from the same chair. If he wants anything else he prints it on a slip of paper and leaves it.”

“Prints it?”

“Yes, sir; prints it in pencil. Just the word, nothing more. Here's the one I brought to show you—soap. Here's another—match. This is one he left the first morning—daily gazette. I leave that paper with his breakfast every morning.”

“Dear me, Watson,” said Homes, staring with great curiosity at the slips of foolscap which the landlady had handed to him, “this is certainly a little unusual. Seclusion I can understand; but why print? Printing is a clumsy process. Why not write? What would it suggest, Watson?”

“That he desired to conceal his handwriting.”

“But why? What can it matter to him that his landlady should have a word of his writing? Still, it may be as you say. Then, again, why such laconic messages?”

“I cannot imagine.”

“It opens a pleasing field for intelligent speculation. The words are written with a broad-pointed, violet-tinted pencil of a not unusual pattern. You will observe that the paper is torn away at the side here after the printing was done, so that the ‘s’ of ‘soap’ is partly gone. Suggestive, Watson, is it not?”

“Of caution?”

“Exactly. There was evidently some mark, some thumbprint, something which might give a clue to the person's identity. Now. Mrs. Warren, you say that the man was of middle size, dark, and bearded. What age would he be?”

“Youngish, sir—not over thirty.”

“Well, can you give me no further indications?”

“He spoke good English, sir, and yet I thought he was a foreigner by his accent.”

“And he was well dressed?”

“Very smartly dressed, sir—quite the gentleman. Dark clothes—nothing you would note.”

“He gave no name?”

“No, sir.”

“And has had no letters or callers?”

“None.”

“But surely you or the girl enter his room of a morning?”

“No, sir; he looks after himself entirely.”

“Dear me! that is certainly remarkable. What about his luggage?”

“He had one big brown bag with him—nothing else.”

“Well, we don't seem to have much material to help us. Do you say nothing has come out of that room—absolutely nothing?”

The landlady drew an envelope from her bag; from it she shook out two burnt matches and a cigarette-end upon the table.

“They were on his tray this morning. I brought them because I had heard that you can read great things out of small ones.”

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

“There is nothing here,” said he. “The matches have, of course, been used to light cigarettes. That is obvious from the shortness of the burnt end. Half the match is consumed in lighting a pipe or cigar. But, dear me! this cigarette stub is certainly remarkable. The gentleman was bearded and moustached, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don't understand that. I should say that only a clean-shaven man could have smoked this. Why, Watson, even your modest moustache would have been singed.”

“A holder?” I suggested.

“No, no; the end is matted. I suppose there could not be two people in your rooms, Mrs. Warren?”

“No, sir. He eats so little that I often wonder it can keep life in one.”

“Well, I think we must wait for a little more material. After all, you have nothing to complain of. You have received your rent, and he is not a troublesome lodger, though he is certainly an unusual one. He pays you well, and if he chooses to lie concealed it is no direct business of yours. We have no excuse for an intrusion upon his privacy until we have some reason to think that there is a guilty reason for it. I've taken up the matter, and I won't lose sight of it. Report to me if anything fresh occurs, and rely upon my assistance if it should be needed.

“There are certainly some points of interest in this case, Watson,” he remarked when the landlady had left us. “It may, of course, be trivial—individual eccentricity; or it may be very much deeper than appears on the surface. The first thing that strike one is the obvious possibility that the person now in the rooms may be entirely different from the one who engaged them.”

“Why should you think so?”

“Well, apart form this cigarette-end, was it not suggestive that the only time the lodger went out was immediately after his taking the rooms? He came back—or someone came back—when all witnesses were out of the way. We have no proof that the person who came back was the person who went out. Then, again, the man who took the rooms spoke English well. This other, however, prints ‘match’ when it should have been ‘matches.’ I can imagine that the word was taken out of a dictionary, which would give the noun but not the plural. The laconic style may be to conceal the absence of knowledge of English. Yes, Watson, there are good reasons to suspect that there has been a substitution of lodgers.”

“But for what possible end?”

“Ah! there lies our problem. There is one rather obvious line of investigation.” He took down the great book in which, day by day, he filed the agony columns of the various London journals. “Dear me!” said he, turning over the pages, “what a chorus of groans, cries, and bleatings! What a rag-bag of singular happenings! But surely the most valuable hunting-ground that ever was given to a student of the unusual! This person is alone and cannot be approached by letter without a breach of that absolute secrecy which is desired. How is any news or any message to reach him from without? Obviously by advertisement through a newspaper. There seems no other way, and fortunately we need concern ourselves with the one paper only. Here are the Daily Gazette extracts of the last fortnight. ‘Lady with a black boa at Prince's Skating Club’—that we may pass. ‘Surely Jimmy will not break his mother's heart’—that appears to be irrelevant. ‘If the lady who fainted on Brixton bus’—she does not interest me. ‘Every day my heart longs—’ Bleat, Watson—unmitigated bleat! Ah, this is a little more possible. Listen to this: ‘Be patient. Will find some sure means of communications. Meanwhile, this column. G.’ That is two days after Mrs. Warren's lodger arrived. It sounds plausible, does it not? The mysterious one could understand English, even if he could not print it. Let us see if we can pick up the trace again. Yes, here we are—three days later. ‘Am making successful arrangements. Patience and prudence. The clouds will pass. G.’ Nothing for a week after that. Then comes something much more definite: ‘The path is clearing. If I find chance signal message remember code agreed—One A, two B, and so on. You will hear soon. G.’ That was in yesterday's paper, and there is nothing in to-day's. It's all very appropriate to Mrs. Warren's lodger. If we wait a little, Watson, I don't doubt that the affair will grow more intelligible.”

So it proved; for in the morning I found my friend standing on the hearthrug with his back to the fire and a smile of complete satisfaction upon his face.

“How's this, Watson?” he cried, picking up the paper from the table. “’High red house with white stone facings. Third floor. Second window left. After dusk. G.’ That is definite enough. I think after breakfast we must make a little reconnaissance of Mrs. Warren's neighbourhood. Ah, Mrs. Warren! what news do you bring us this morning?”

Our client had suddenly burst into the room with an explosive energy which told of some new and momentous development.

“It's a police matter, Mr. Holmes!” she cried. “I'll have no more of it! He shall pack out of there with his baggage. I would have gone straight up and told him so, only I thought it was but fair to you to take your opinion first. But I'm at the end of my patience, and when it comes to knocking my old man about—”

“Knocking Mr. Warren about?”

“Using him roughly, anyway.”

“But who used him roughly?”

“Ah! that's what we want to know! It was this morning, sir. Mr. Warren is a timekeeper at Morton and Waylight's, in Tottenham Court Road. He has to be out of the house before seven. Well, this morning he had not gone ten paces down the road when two men came up behind him, threw a coat over his head, and bundled him into a cab that was beside the curb. They drove him an hour, and then opened the door and shot him out. He lay in the roadway so shaken in his wits that he never saw what became of the cab. When he picked himself up he found he was on Hampstead Heath; so he took a bus home, and there he lies now on his sofa, while I came straight round to tell you what had happened.”

“Most interesting,” said Holmes. “Did he observe the appearance of these men—did he hear them talk?”

“No; he is clean dazed. He just knows that he was lifted up as if by magic and dropped as if by magic. Two a least were in it, and maybe three.”

“And you connect this attack with your lodger?”

“Well, we've lived there fifteen years and no such happenings ever came before. I've had enough of him. Money's not everything. I'll have him out of my house before the day is done.”

“Wait a bit, Mrs. Warren. Do nothing rash. I begin to think that this affair may be very much more important than appeared at first sight. It is clear now that some danger is threatening your lodger. It is equally clear that his enemies, lying in wait for him near your door, mistook your husband for him in the foggy morning light. On discovering their mistake they released him. What they would have done had it not been a mistake, we can only conjecture.”

“Well, what am I to do, Mr. Holmes?”

“I have a great fancy to see this lodger of yours, Mrs. Warren.”

“I don't see how that is to be managed, unless you break in the door. I always hear him unlock it as I go down the stair after I leave the tray.”

“He has to take the tray in. Surely we could conceal ourselves and see him do it.”

The landlady thought for a moment.

“Well, sir, there's the box-room opposite. I could arrange a looking-glass, maybe, and if you were behind the door—”

“Excellent!” said Holmes. “When does he lunch?”

“About one, sir.”

“Then Dr. Watson and I will come round in time. For the present, Mrs. Warren, good-bye.”

At half-past twelve we found ourselves upon the steps of Mrs. Warren's house—a high, thin, yellow-brick edifice in Great Orme Street, a narrow thoroughfare at the northeast side of the British Museum. Standing as it does near the corner of the street, it commands a view down Howe Street, with its ore pretentious houses. Holmes pointed with a chuckle to one of these, a row of residential flats, which projected so that they could not fail to catch the eye.

“See, Watson!” said he. “‘High red house with stone facings.’ There is the signal station all right. We know the place, and we know the code; so surely our task should be simple. There's a ‘to let’ card in that window. It is evidently an empty flat to which the confederate has access. Well, Mrs. Warren, what now?”

“I have it all ready for you. If you will both come up and leave your boots below on the landing, I'll put you there now.”

It was an excellent hiding-place which she had arranged. The mirror was so placed that, seated in the dark, we could very plainly see the door opposite. We had hardly settled down in it, and Mrs. Warren left us, when a distant tinkle announced that our mysterious neighbour had rung. Presently the landlady appeared with the tray, laid it down upon a chair beside the closed door, and then, treading heavily, departed. Crouching together in the angle of the door, we kept our eyes fixed upon the mirror. Suddenly, as the landlady's footsteps died away, there was the creak of a turning key, the handle revolved, and two thin hands darted out and lifted the tray form the chair. An instant later it was hurriedly replaced, and I caught a glimpse of a dark, beautiful, horrified face glaring at the narrow opening of the box-room. Then the door crashed to, the key turned once more, and all was silence. Holmes twitched my sleeve, and together we stole down the stair.

“I will call again in the evening,” said he to the expectant landlady. “I think, Watson, we can discuss this business better in our own quarters.”

“My surmise, as you saw, proved to be correct,” said he, speaking from the depths of his easy-chair. “There has been a substitution of lodgers. What I did not foresee is that we should find a woman, and no ordinary woman, Watson.”

“She saw us.”

“Well, she saw something to alarm her. That is certain. The general sequence of events is pretty clear, is it not? A couple seek refuge in London from a very terrible and instant danger. The measure of that danger is the rigour of their precautions. The man, who has some work which he must do, desires to leave the woman in absolute safety while he does it. It is not an easy problem, but he solved it in an original fashion, and so effectively that her presence was not even known to the landlady who supplies her with food. The printed messages, as is now evident, were to prevent her sex being discovered by her writing. The man cannot come near the woman, or he will guide their enemies to her. Since he cannot communicate with her direct, he has recourse to the agony column of a paper. So far all is clear.”

“But what is at the root of it?”

“Ah, yes, Watson—severely practical, as usual! What is at the root of it all? Mrs. Warren's whimsical problem enlarges somewhat and assumes a more sinister aspect as we proceed. This much we can say: that it is no ordinary love escapade. You saw the woman's face at the sign of danger. We have heard, too, of the attack upon the landlord, which was undoubtedly meant for the lodger. These alarms, and the desperate need for secrecy, argue that the matter is one of life or death. The attack upon Mr. Warren further shows that the enemy, whoever they are, are themselves not aware of the substitution of the female lodger for the male. It is very curious and complex, Watson.”

“Why should you go further in it? What have you to gain from it?”

“What, indeed? It is art for art's sake, Watson. I suppose when you doctored you found yourself studying cases without thought of a fee?”

“For my education, Holmes.”

“Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for the last. This is an instructive case. There is neither money nor credit in it, and yet one would wish to tidy it up. When dusk comes we should find ourselves one stage advanced in our investigation.”

When we returned to Mrs. Warren's rooms, the gloom of a London winter evening had thickened into one gray curtain, a dead monotone of colour, broken only by the sharp yellow squares of the windows and the blurred haloes of the gas-lamps. As we peered from the darkened sitting-room of the lodging-house, one more dim light glimmered high up through the obscurity.

“Someone is moving in that room,” said Holmes in a whisper, his gaunt and eager face thrust forward to the window-pane. “Yes, I can see his shadow. There he is again! He has a candle in his hand. Now he is peering across. He wants to be sure that she is on the lookout. Now he begins to flash. Take the message also, Watson, that we may check each other. A single flash—that is A, surely. Now, then. How many did you make it? Twenty. Do did In. That should mean T. AT—that's intelligible enough. Another T. Surely this is the beginning of a second word. Now, then—TENTA. Dead stop. That can't be all, Watson? ATTENTA gives no sense. Nor is it any better as three words AT, TEN, TA, unless T. A. are a person's initials. There it goes again! What's that? ATTE—why, it is the same message over again. Curious, Watson, very curious. Now he is off once more! AT—why he is repeating it for the third time. ATTENTA three times! How often will he repeat it? No, that seems to be the finish. He has withdrawn form the window. What do you make of it, Watson?”

“A cipher message, Holmes.”

My companion gave a sudden chuckle of comprehension. “And not a very obscure cipher, Watson,” said he. “Why, of course, it is Italian! The A means that it is addressed to a woman. ‘Beware! Beware! Beware!’ How's that, Watson?

“I believe you have hit it.”

“Not a doubt of it. It is a very urgent message, thrice repeated to make it more so. But beware of what? Wait a bit, he is coming to the window once more.”

Again we saw the dim silhouette of a crouching man and the whisk of the small flame across the window as the signals were renewed. They came more rapidly than before—so rapid that it was hard to follow them.

“PERICOLO—pericolo—eh, what's that, Watson? ‘Danger,’ isn't it? Yes, by Jove, it's a danger signal. There he goes again! PERI. Halloa, what on earth—”

The light had suddenly gone out, the glimmering square of window had disappeared, and the third floor formed a dark band round the lofty building, with its tiers of shining casements. That last warning cry had been suddenly cut short. How, and by whom? The same thought occurred on the instant to us both. Holmes sprang up from where he crouched by the window.

“This is serious, Watson,” he cried. “There is some devilry going forward! Why should such a message stop in such a way? I should put Scotland Yard in touch with this business—and yet, it is too pressing for us to leave.”

“Shall I go for the police?”

“We must define the situation a little more clearly. It may bear some more innocent interpretation. Come, Watson, let us go across ourselves and see what we can make of it.”

红圈会

“啊，瓦伦太太，我看不出有什么特别的原因使你不安；我也不明白，我的时间如此宝贵，竟然还能干预这件事。我实在还有别的事情要办。"歇洛克·福尔摩斯这样说着，转身去看他那册巨大的剪贴簿。他把一些最近的材料剪收在里面，并且编了索引。

可是，房东太太是执拗的，还具有女一性一的巧妙本领。她毫不让步。

“您去年替一我的一个房客办过一件事，"她说，“他就是费戴尔·霍布斯先生。”

“噢，对，对——事情很简单。”

“可他老是说个没完——说您肯帮忙，先生，说您能够把没头没尾的事查得一清二楚。当我自己产生怀疑、摸不着头脑的时候，我就想其他的话来了。我知道，只要您愿意，您是可以办到的。”

每当受到恭维时，福尔摩斯都是好说话的，并且当诚恳地对待他时，他也是尽力去主持公正的。这两股力量促使他叹了一口气来表示同意，并放下胶水刷子，拖开了椅子。

“好吧，好吧，瓦伦太太，那就说给我们听听吧。我一抽一烟，你不反对吧？谢谢你，华生——火柴！我知道，你的新房客呆在房间里，你看不到他，你就为这个发愁。那又怎样呢，上帝保佑你，瓦伦太太，如果我是你的房客，你会一连好几个星期都看不到我的。”

“那没错，先生，可是这回的情形不一样啊，使我害怕，福尔摩斯先生，怕得我不能睡觉。只听见他急促的脚步从一大早到深夜走来走去，可是就没见过他的人影——这我可受不了。我丈夫和我一样神经紧张，可是他成天在外面上班，我呢，我就躲不开了。他隐瞒什么呢？他干了什么呢？除了那个小泵一娘一，屋子里就剩我和他了。我的神经受不了啦。”

福尔摩斯俯身向前，用他细长的手指抚一着房东太太的肩膀。只要他需要，他几乎有催眠术般的安慰人的力量，她那恐惧的目光镇定了，紧张的表情也缓和下来，恢复了常态。她在福尔摩斯指的那张椅子上坐了下来。

“如果我要办，我必须了解每一个细节，"他说，“别急，想一下。最小的细节可能是最重要的东西。你是说，这个人是十天以前来的，付了你两个星期的住宿费和伙食费？”

“他问我要多少钱，先生。我说一个星期五十个先令。有一间小起居室和卧室，一切齐全，是在顶楼。”

“还有呢？”

“他说：‘我一个星期付五镑，只要我可以按我的条件行一事。我是一个穷痞子，先生，瓦伦先生挣的钱少，钱对我可是一件大事。他拿了一张十镑的钞票，当时就给了我。如果你能答应我的条件，你可以在将来很长一段时间里每半月得到同样的钱数。他说，‘否则，我就不能将就你了。”

“什么条件？”

“唔，先生，条件是他要掌握房子的钥匙。这没什么，房客们常常是要钥匙的。还有一个条件是，要让他完全自一由自在，绝不能以任何借口去打扰他。”

“这里面当然不会有什么名堂吧？”

“从道理上说，没什么。可这又是根本没有道理的。他来住了十天，瓦伦先生、我、还有那个小泵一娘一都没有见过他一次。晚上、早上、中午，就听见他急促的脚步声走过去，走过来。除了第一个晚上以外，他就没有出过房门。”

“哦，他在第一个晚上出去过？”

“是的，先生，很晚才回来——我们都睡了。他住进来之后就对我说过，他回来得晚，叫我不要闩上大门。我听见他回来时，已经过了半夜了。”

“他吃饭呢？”

“他特别关照过，等他按铃，我们才能把他的饭放在门外的一把椅子上。等他吃完了再按铃，我们再从同一把椅子上把东西收走。如果他要别的什么东西，就用铅字体写在一张纸上留下。”

“用铅字体写？”

“是的，先生，用铅笔写的铅字体，没有别的，就一个词。我带来了一张给您看看——肥皂。这是另外一张——火柴。这是他在第一个早上留下的——《每日新闻》。我每天早上把报纸和早餐一起放在那儿。”

“天哪，华生，"福尔摩斯说道，无比惊奇地看看房东太太递给他的几张大纸片，“这倒真有点反常。深居简出，我可以理解，但是为什么要写铅字体呢？写铅字体可是个笨办法。为什么不随便写呢？这说明什么，华生？”

“说明他想隐瞒自己的笔迹。”

“为什么呢？房东太太看见他写的字，对他又有何妨？也可能是你说的那样。那么，还有，通知为什么这样简单呢？”

“我无法想象。”

“这样一来就耐人寻味了。写字的笔不同一般，紫色，粗笔头。你看，写好之后，纸是从这儿撕一开的，所以肥皂这个字里的撕去了一部分。这能说明问题，对吧，华生？"Ｓ

“说明小心谨慎吗？”

“一点儿不错。显然还会有一些记号，指纹和其它一些东西可以提供线索，来查明这是个什么人。瓦伦太太，你说这个人是中等身材，黑黑的，有一胡一子。大概多大年纪？”

“挺年轻的，先生，过不了三十岁。”

“唔，你再说不出更多的情况啦？”

“他的英语说得很好，先生，可是听他的口音，我看他是个外国人。”

“穿着讲究吗？”

“很讲究，先生，一副绅士派头。黑衣服——我看不出有什么特别。”

“他没说出他的名字？”

“没有，先生。”

“他没有信，也没有人来找他？”

“没有。”

“你，或者是那个小泵一娘一，一定在某个早上进过他的房间喽？”

“没有进去过，先生，全部都由他自己照料。”

“哦？真奇怪。行李呢？”

“他随身带着一个棕色大手提包——别的什么也没有。”

“唔，看来对我们有帮助的材料还不多。你是说什么东西也没有从他房间里带出来过——一样也没有？”

房东太太从她钱包里取出一个信封，又从信封里取出两根燃过的火柴和一个烟头放在桌上。

“今天早上这些东西放在他的盘子里。我带给你看看，因为我听说你能从小东西上看出大问题。”

福尔摩斯耸耸肩。

“这里面没有什么，"他说。“火柴当然是用来点香烟的，因为火柴棍烧得只剩这么一点儿了；点一斗烟或是一支雪茄烧去了一半。可是，唉，这个烟头倒很怪。你说过，这位先生上唇和下巴都有一胡一子？”

“是的，先生。”

“这我就不懂了。我觉得，只有一胡一子剃得光光的人才会把烟一抽一成这样。嘿，华生，就连你嘴上的那么一点一胡一子也会被烧焦的。”

“是用的烟嘴儿？"我提出我的看法。

“不，不。烟头已经衔破了。瓦伦太太，我想房间里不会有两个人吧？”

“不会，先生。他吃得很少，我老担心他吃这么一点还能不能活下去。”

“唔，我看我们还得等着多找一点儿材料。反正，你用不着抱怨什么。你收了租钱，他虽然有些不寻常，但也不是一个惹麻烦的房客。他出的钱很多，如果他要隐瞒什么，跟你也没有什么直接的关系。我们没有理由干预别人的私事，除非我们有理由认为事关犯罪。这件事既然一交一给了我，我不会放下不管。有什么新情况，请告诉我；如果需要，你可以得到我的帮助。”

“这里面有几点确实有趣，先生，"房东太太离开我们之后，他说，“当然，也许是小事——个人的怪僻，但也可能比表面现象奥妙得多。我首先想到的是这样一种明显的可能一性一，现在住着的，可能同租房间的根本是两个人。”

“你怎么会这样想？”

“呃，除了烟头之外，这位房客租下房间之后马上出去过一次，而且就此一次，这难道不能说明什么吗？他回来的时候——或者说，某个人回来的时候——没有一个见证人在场。我们没有证据，证明回来的人就是出去的人。另外，租房间的人英语说得很好，另一个却把应当写为ｍａｔｃｈｅｓ’的字写成了ｍａｔｃｈ’。我可以想象，这个字是从字典里找出来的。字典里只给名词，不给复数。这种简短的方式可能是为了掩盖不懂英语。对，华生，有充分理由怀疑有人顶替了我们的房客。”

“可能是什么目的？”

“啊！问题就在这里。有一个十分简易明白的调查方法。”他取下一本大书，书中都是他平日保存下来的伦敦各家报纸的寻人广告栏。"天啊！"他翻阅着书页说道，“好一个呻一吟、喊叫和废话的大合唱！好一堆怪事奇闻的大杂烩！但这肯定是提供给一个异乎寻常的学者的最宝贵的猎场！这个人孤零零的，写信给他就难免要泄露其中的机密。消息和通信又是怎样从外面传给他的呢？显然是通过报上的广告。看来没有其他的办法。幸好我只需要注意一份报纸就可以了。这是最近两个星期《每日新闻》上的摘录：‘王子滑冰俱乐部戴黑色羽一毛一围巾的女士——这不去管它。吉米当然不会叫他母亲伤心的——这与我们无关。如果这位昏倒在布里克斯顿的公共汽车上的女士——她，我也不感兴趣。‘我的心每天都在渴望——废话，华生——全是废话！啊，这一段有可能。你听：‘耐心些。将寻找一种可靠的通信办法。目前，仍用此栏。Ｇ．这是瓦伦太太的房客住进来两天之后刊登的。这不是有点儿象吗？这个神秘客人可能是懂英语的，尽避他不会写。看看，我们能不能再找到线索。有了，在这儿——三天之后的。正做有效安排。耐心谨慎。乌云就会过去。Ｇ．此后一个星期什么都没有。这里就说得很明确了：‘道路已清除。如有机会，当发信号，记住说定的暗号——一是Ａ，二是Ｂ，如此类推。你很快就会听到消息。Ｇ．这是在昨天的报纸上的。今天的报上什么也没有。这一切都很符合瓦伦太太那位房客的情况。华生，如果我们再等一等，我相信事情就会更加明白了。”

果然如此。早上，我发现我的朋友背朝炉火站在炉边的地毯上，脸上露出满意的笑容。

“这个怎么样，华生？"他喊道，从桌上拿起报纸。“红色高房子，白石门面。三楼。左面第二个窗口。天黑之后。Ｇ．这够明确了。我想吃完早饭我们一定得去查访一下瓦伦太太的这位邻居。啊，瓦伦太太！今天早上你给我们带来什么好消息呀？”

我们的这位委托人这样突然气冲冲地跑进来，这告诉我们，事情有了新的重大发展。

“这事得找警察啦，福尔摩斯先生！"她嚷道，“我可再也受不了啦！让他拎着他的提包走算了。我本想直接告诉他，干脆要他走，不过我想还是先听听你们的意见好些。可是我的忍耐到头啦，老头子挨了一顿打，这时候——”

“打瓦伦先生？”

“反正对他可粗一暴啦。”

“谁对他粗一暴？”

“哎呀！我正想知道哩！是在今天早上，先生。瓦伦先生是托特纳姆宫廷路莫顿－威莱公司的计时员。他要在七点钟以前出门。好啦，今天早上，他出门还没走上几步路，后面跑出来两个人，用一件衣裳蒙住他的头，就捆进了路旁的马车。他们带着他跑了一个钟头，打开车门，把他拖到车外。他躺在路上，吓得魂都没了。马车是怎么一回事，他没看见。等他慢慢站了起来，才知道是在汉普斯特德荒地。他坐公共汽车回了家，这会儿还躺在沙发上。我就马上到这儿来告诉你们这件事。”

“真有意思，"福尔摩斯说，"他看见那两个人的脸没有——听见他们说话没有？”

“没有，他给吓糊涂了。他只知道，把他抬起来，把他扔下去，都象变戏法。至少有两个人，说不定是三个。”

“你把这次袭击同你的房客联系起来啦？”

“哎，我们在这儿住了十五年，从来没出过这样的事。叫他请吧。钱算不了什么。天黑以前，叫他离开我的房子。”

“等一等，瓦伦太太。别莽撞。我开始感到这件事可能要比我最初看到的情况严重得多。很清楚，有某种危险在威胁着你的房客。同样清楚的是，他的敌人躲在你房子附近在等候他。他们在朦胧的晨光中看错了，把你丈夫看成是他，后来发现弄错了，就把你丈夫放了。要不是看错了人，那他们又要干什么呢？我们只能推测。”

“那我该怎么办，福尔摩斯先生？”

“我很想去见见你的这位房客，瓦伦太太。”

“我不知道怎么安排，除非你破门而入。每当我留下盘子下楼去的时候，就听见他开门锁的声音。”

“他要把盘子拿进屋里去。我们当然可以躲在一个地方看他拿盘子。”

房东太太想了一会儿。

“那好，先生，对面有个放箱子的小房间。我去拿一面镜子，如果你们躲在门后面也许可以——”

“好极了！"福尔摩斯说，“他什么时候吃午饭？”

“大约一点钟，先生。”

“华生和我准时去。现在嘛，瓦伦太太，再见吧。”

十二点半钟，我们来到瓦伦太太住宅的台阶上。这是一幢高大而单薄的黄色砖房，坐落在大英博物馆东北面的一条窄路奥梅大街上。它虽然靠近大街一角，从它那里一眼望下去，可以望见霍伊大街和街上更加华丽的住宅。福尔摩斯笑嘻嘻地指着一排公寓住宅的一幢房屋。房屋的设计式样逃不出他的眼睛。

“瞧，华生！"他说，“红色高房子，白石门面。信号地点也对。我们知道了地点，也知道暗号，所以我的任务就简便了。那扇窗口上放着一块出租的牌子。这套空着的住房里显然是那伙人进出的地方。啊，瓦伦太太，现在怎么样了？”

“我给你们都准备好啦。要是你们两位都来，就把鞋子放在楼下的楼梯平台上。我现在就带你们去。”

她安排的藏身处很好。放镜子的地方也正好，我们坐在黑暗中可以清楚地看见对面的房门。我们还没有来得及安顿好，瓦伦太太刚走，就听见远处响起了这位神秘邻居叮噹的按铃声。不一会儿，房东太太手里拿着盘子出现了。她把盘子放在关着的房门旁边的一张椅子上，然后踏着重重的步子离开了。我们蹲伏一在门角落里，眼睛盯着镜子。等房东太太的脚步声消失后，突然传来转动钥匙的声音，门把扭一动了，两只纤细的手迅速地伸到门外，从椅子上把盘子端走。过了一会儿，又把盘子放回原处。我看见一张一陰一郁、美丽、惊慌的面孔在瞪视着放箱子房间的一丝门缝。然后，房门猛地关上，钥匙转动了一下，一切又都平静了。福尔摩斯拉了一下我的袖子，我们两人偷偷下了楼梯。

“我晚上再来，"福尔摩斯对房东太太说，“我想，华生，这件事我们还得回去讨论一下。”

“你看，我的推测是对的，"他坐在安乐椅里说道。“有人顶替了房客。我没有料到的是，我们发现的竟然是一个女人，不是一般的女人，华生。”

“她看见我们了。”

“嗯，她发现了使她惊慌的情况，这是肯定的。事情的脉络已经很清楚，对不对？一对夫妇在伦敦避难，想躲避非常可怕的和紧急的危险。他们的防备有多严，就说明危险有多大。男的有急事。在他办急事的时候，想让女的得到绝对的安全。问题不简单，不过他用来解决问题的办法很新颖，效果极好，就连给她送饭的房东太太也不知道她的存在。现在看来，很明白，用铅体字写条是为了不让别人从字迹上认出她是个女的。男的不能接近女的，一接近就会引来敌人。他不能直接和她联系，于是利用寻人广告栏。到现在为止，一切都很清楚了。”

“可是，根由是什么？”

“啊，对，华生——这照常是严肃的实际问题！谤由是什么？瓦伦太太想入非非的问题把事情扩大化了，并且在我们进行过程中出现了更一陰一险的一个方面。我们完全可以说：这不是一般的一爱一情纠葛。你看到那个女人发现危险迹象时的脸色啦。我们也听说过房东先生遭到袭击的事，这无疑是针对这位房客的。惊恐和拚命保守秘密都足以证明这是一件生死攸关的大事。袭击瓦伦先生进一步表明，敌人自己，不管他们是谁，也并不知道一位女房客已经顶替了一位男房客。这件事非常离奇复杂，华生。”

“为什么你要继续干下去？你想从中得到什么？”

“是呀，为什么呢？是为艺术而艺术吧，华生。当你看病的时候，我想你只会研究病情而不会想到出诊费吧？”

“那是为了得到教育，福尔摩斯。”

“教育是没有止境的，华生。课程一门接一门，一精一益求一精一。这件案子很有启发一性一。里面既无现钱又无存款，但我们还是要把它查个清楚。到天黑的时候，我们会发现我们的调查又前进一步了。”

我们回到瓦伦太太的住处，这时，伦敦冬天的黄昏更加朦胧，变成一块灰色的帷幕，只有窗户上明亮的黄色方玻璃和煤气灯昏暗的晕光打破了死沉沉的单调颜色。当我们从寓所的一间黑一洞一洞的起居室向外窥视的时候，昏暗中又高高亮起一束暗淡的灯光。

“那个房间里有人在走动，"福尔摩斯低声说，他那急切而瘦削的脸探向窗前。"对，我可以看见他的身影。他又出现了！手里拿着蜡烛。他在窥视四周，一定是在戒备。现在他开始晃动灯光发信号了。一下，这肯定是Ａ。华生，你也记一下，记完我们互相核对。你记的是几下？二十。我也是二十。二十是Ｔ。ＡＴ——这真够明白的了！又一个Ｔ。这肯定是第二个字的开始。现在是——ＴＥＮＴＡ。停了。这不会是完吧，华生？ＡＴ－ＴＥＮＴＡ没有意思啊。是三个字——ＡＴＴＥＮ，ＴＡ，这也没有意思。要不然Ｔ、Ａ分别是一个人的姓名的缩写。又开始了！是什么？ＡＴＴＥ——嗯，重复同样的内容。奇怪，华生，很奇怪！他又停了！ＡＴ——嗯，第三次重复，三次都是ＡＴＴＥＮＴＡ！他要重复多久？发完了。他离开了窗口。华生，你看这是怎么一回事？”

“是密码联系，福尔摩斯。”

我的同伴突然发出有所领悟的笑声。“并不是太晦涩难懂的密码，华生，"他说。"对了，是意大利文！的意思是说信号Ａ是发给一个女人的。当心！当心！当心！怎么样，华生？”

“我想你说对了。”

“毫无疑问。这是一个紧急信号。重复了三次，就更急了。当心什么呢？等一等，他又到窗口来了。”

我们又看见一个蹲伏着的人的模糊侧影。当信号重新开始时，一点小火苗又在窗前来回晃动了。信号比上次打得更快——快得几乎记不下来。

“帕里科洛——Ｐｅｒｉｃｏｌｏ——嗯，这是什么意思，华生？是危险对不对？对，真的，是一个危险信号。他又来了！ＰＥＲＩ……啊，这倒底是——”

亮光突然熄灭，发亮的方窗格消失了，第四层楼成了这幢大厦的一道黑带子，而其他各层都是明亮的窗扉。最后的危急呼叫突然中断了。怎么一回事？被谁打断的？这个想法一下同时出现在我们的脑子里。福尔摩斯从窗户旁边蹲伏着的地方一跃而起。

“事情严重，华生，"他嚷道，“要出事！信号为什么就这样停止了？这件事我得跟警察厅取得联系——可是，时间太紧，我们走不开。”

“我去行吗？”

“我们必须把情况弄得更明白一些才是。它也许能提供某种更加清楚的解释。走，华生，让我们亲自出马，看看有何办法。”