
                       THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
                             The Five Orange Pips
      When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes
      cases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which
      present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter
      to know which to choose and which to leave.  Some, however, have
      already gained publicity through the papers, and others have not
      offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend
      possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of these
      papers to illustrate.  Some, too, have baffled his analytical
      skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending,
      while others have been but partially cleared up, and have their
      explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on
      that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him.  There is,
      however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its details
      and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some
      account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in
      connection with it which never have been, and probably never will
      be, entirely cleared up.

          The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of
      greater or less interest, of which I retain the records.  Among my
      headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the
      adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant
      Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a
      furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the
      British bark Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the
      Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the
      Camberwell poisoning case.  In the latter, as may be remembered,
      Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to
      prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that
      therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--a
      deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the
      case.  All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of
      them present such singular features as the strange train of
      circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe.

          It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial
      gales had set in with exceptional violence.  All day the wind had
      screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even
      here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to
      raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life, and to
      recognize the presence of those great elemental forces which
      shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilization, like
      untamed beasts in a cage.  As evening drew in, the storm grew
      higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in
      the chimney.  Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the
      fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the
      other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until
      the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text,
      and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of
      the sea waves.  My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a
      few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker
      Street.

          "Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely
      the bell.  Who could come to-night?  Some friend of yours,
      perhaps?"

          "Except yourself I have none," he answered.  "I do not
      encourage visitors."

          "A client, then?"

          "If so, it is a serious case.  Nothing less would bring a man
      out on such a day and at such an hour.  But I take it that it is
      more likely to be some crony of the landlady's."

          Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for
      there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door.  He
      stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and
      towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.  "Come
      in!" said he.

          The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the
      outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of
      refinement and delicacy in his bearing.  The streaming umbrella
      which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told of
      the fierce weather through which he had come.  He looked about him
      anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his face
      was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is weighed
      down with some great anxiety.

          "I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez
      to his eyes.  "I trust that I am not intruding.  I fear that I
      have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug
      chamber."

          "Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes.  "They may rest
      here on the hook and will be dry presently.  You have come up from
      the south-west, I see."

          "Yes, from Horsham."

          "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is
      quite distinctive."

          "I have come for advice."

          "That is easily got."

          "And help."

          "That is not always so easy."

          "I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes.  I heard from Major
      Prendergast how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal."

          "Ah, of course.  He was wrongfully accused of cheating at
      cards."

          "He said that you could solve anything."

          "He said too much."

          "That you are never beaten."

          "I have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once
      by a woman."

          "But what is that compared with the number of your successes?"

          "It is true that I have been generally successful."

          "Then you may be so with me."

          "I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour
      me with some details as to your case."

          "It is no ordinary one."

          "None of those which come to me are.  I am the last court of
      appeal."

          "And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you
      have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of
      events than those which have happened in my own family."

          "You fill me with interest," said Holmes.  "Pray give us the
      essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards
      question you as to those details which seem to me to be most
      important."

          The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out
      towards the blaze.

          "My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs
      have, as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful
      business.  It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an
      idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the
      affair.

          "You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle
      Elias and my father Joseph.  My father had a small factory at
      Coventry, which he enlarged at the time of the invention of
      bicycling.  He was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire,
      and his business met with such success that he was able to sell it
      and to retire upon a handsome competence.

          "My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man
      and became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have
      done very well.  At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's
      army, and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel.
      When Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation,
      where he remained for three or four years.  About 1869 or 1870 he
      came back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near
      Horsham.  He had made a very considerable fortune in the States,
      and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes,
      and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the
      franchise to them.  He was a singular man, fierce and
      quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most
      retiring disposition.  During all the years that he lived at
      Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot in the town.  He had a garden
      and two or three fields round his house, and there he would take
      his exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never
      leave his room.  He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very
      heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends,
      not even his own brother.

          "He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the
      time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so.  This
      would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years
      in England.  He begged my father to let me live with him, and he
      was very kind to me in his way.  When he was sober he used to be
      fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would make
      me his representative both with the servants and with the
      tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite
      master of the house.  I kept all the keys and could go where I
      liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his
      privacy.  There was one singular exception, however, for he had a
      single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was
      invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or
      anyone else to enter.  With a boy's curiosity I have peeped
      through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a
      collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such
      a room.

          "One day--it was in March, 1883--a letter with a foreign stamp
      lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate.  It was not a
      common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all
      paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort.  `From
      India!' said he as he took it up, `Pondicherry postmark!  What can
      this be?'  Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried
      orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate.  I began to laugh
      at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of his
      face.  His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the
      colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he still held
      in his trembling hand, `K. K. K.!' he shrieked, and then, `My God,
      my God, my sins have overtaken me!'

          "`What is it, uncle?' I cried.

          "`Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to his
      room, leaving me palpitating with horror.  I took up the envelope
      and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the
      gum, the letter K three times repeated.  There was nothing else
      save the five dried pips.  What could be the reason of his
      overpowering terror?  I left the breakfast-table, and as I
      ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key,
      which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small
      brass box, like a cashbox, in the other.

          "`They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,'
      said he with an oath.  `Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my
      room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.'

          "I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked
      to step up to the room.  The fire was burning brightly, and in the
      grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper,
      while the brass box stood open and empty beside it.  As I glanced
      at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed
      the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope.

          "`I wish you, John,' said my uncle, `to witness my will.  I
      leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its
      disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no
      doubt, descend to you.  If you can enjoy it in peace, well and
      good!  If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave
      it to your deadliest enemy.  I am sorry to give you such a
      two-edged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to
      take.  Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.'

          "I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away
      with him.  The singular incident made, as you may think, the
      deepest impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it
      every way in my mind without being able to make anything of it.
      Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left
      behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed,
      and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives.  I
      could see a change in my uncle, however.  He drank more than ever,
      and he was less inclined for any sort of society.  Most of his
      time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the
      inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy
      and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a
      revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man,
      and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man
      or devil.  When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush
      tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a
      man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies
      at the roots of his soul.  At such times I have seen his face,
      even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new
      raised from a basin.

          "Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to
      abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those
      drunken sallies from which he never came back.  We found him, when
      we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed
      pool, which lay at the foot of the garden.  There was no sign of
      any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that the
      jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a
      verdict of `suicide.'  But I, who knew how he winced from the very
      thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone
      out of his way to meet it.  The matter passed, however, and my
      father entered into possession of the estate, and of some 14,000 pounds,
      which lay to his credit at the bank."

          "One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I
      foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened.
      Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter,
      and the date of his supposed suicide."

          "The letter arrived on March 10, 1883.  His death was seven
      weeks later, upon the night of May 2d."

          "Thank you.  Pray proceed."

          "When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my
      request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been
      always locked up.  We found the brass box there, although its
      contents had been destroyed.  On the inside of the cover was a
      paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and
      `Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath.
      These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had
      been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw.  For the rest, there was
      nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many
      scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in
      America.  Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had
      done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier.
      Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern
      states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had
      evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag
      politicians who had been sent down from the North.

          "Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live
      at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the
      January of '85.  On the fourth day after the new year I heard my
      father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the
      breakfast-table.  There he was, sitting with a newly opened
      envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the
      outstretched palm of the other one.  He had always laughed at what
      he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked
      very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon
      himself.

          "`Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered.

          "My heart had turned to lead.  `It is K. K. K.,' said I.

          "He looked inside the envelope.  `So it is,' he cried.  `Here
      are the very letters.  But what is this written above them?'

          "`Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his
      shoulder.

          "`What papers?  What sundial?' he asked.

          "`The sundial in the garden.  There is no other,' said I; `but
      the papers must be those that are destroyed.'

          "`Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage.  `We are in a
      civilized land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind.
      Where does the thing come from?'

          "`From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark.

          "`Some preposterous practical joke,' said he.  `What have I to
      do with sundials and papers?  I shall take no notice of such
      nonsense.'

          "`I should certainly speak to the police,' I said.

          "`And be laughed at for my pains.  Nothing of the sort.'

          "`Then let me do so?'

          "`No, I forbid you.  I won't have a fuss made about such
      nonsense.'

          "It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate
      man.  I went about, however, with a heart which was full of
      forebodings.

          "On the third day after the coming of the letter my father
      went from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who
      is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill.  I was glad
      that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from
      danger when he was away from home.  In that, however, I was in
      error.  Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram
      from the major, imploring me to come at once.  My father had
      fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the
      neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull.  I
      hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered
      his consciousness.  He had, as it appears, been returning from
      Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him,
      and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing
      in a verdict of `death from accidental causes.'  Carefully as I
      examined every fact connected with his death, I was unable to find
      anything which could suggest the idea of murder.  There were no
      signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of
      strangers having been seen upon the roads.  And yet I need not
      tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was
      well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him.

          "In this sinister way I came into my inheritance.  You will
      ask me why I did not dispose of it?  I answer, because I was well
      convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an
      incident in my uncle's life, and that the danger would be as
      pressing in one house as in another.

          "It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and
      two years and eight months have elapsed since then.  During that
      time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that
      this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended
      with the last generation.  I had begun to take comfort too soon,
      however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in
      which it had come upon my father."

          The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and
      turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange
      pips.

          "This is the envelope," he continued.  "The postmark is
      London--eastern division.  Within are the very words which were
      upon my father's last message: `K. K. K.'; and then `Put the
      papers on the sundial.'"

          "What have you done?" asked Holmes.

          "Nothing."

          "Nothing?"

          "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white
      hands--"I have felt helpless.  I have felt like one of those poor
      rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it.  I seem to be in
      the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight
      and no precautions can guard against."

          "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes.  "You must act, man, or you
      are lost.  Nothing but energy can save you.  This is no time for
      despair."

          "I have seen the police."

          "Ah!"

          "But they listened to my story with a smile.  I am convinced
      that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all
      practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really
      accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with
      the warnings."

          Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air.  "Incredible
      imbecility!" he cried.

          "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in
      the house with me."

          "Has he come with you to-night?"

          "No.  His orders were to stay in the house."

          Again Holmes raved in the air.

          "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did
      you not come at once?"

          "I did not know.  It was only to-day that I spoke to Major
      Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to
      you."

          "It is really two days since you had the letter.  We should
      have acted before this.  You have no further evidence, I suppose,
      than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail
      which might help us?"

          "There is one thing," said John Openshaw.  He rummaged in his
      coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted
      paper, he laid it out upon the table.  "I have some remembrance,"
      said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I
      observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes
      were of this particular colour.  I found this single sheet upon
      the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it may be
      one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the
      others, and in that way has escaped destruction.  Beyond the
      mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much.  I think
      myself that it is a page from some private diary.  The writing is
      undoubtedly my uncle's."

          Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of
      paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been
      torn from a book.  It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were
      the following enigmatical notices:

                  4th.  Hudson came.  Same old platform.

                  7th.  Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John
                          Swain, of St. Augustine.

                  9th.  McCauley cleared.

                 10th.  John Swain cleared.

                 12th.  Visited Paramore.  All well.

          "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning
      it to our visitor.  "And now you must on no account lose another
      instant.  We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told
      me.  You must get home instantly and act."

          "What shall I do?"

          "There is but one thing to do.  It must be done at once.  You
      must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the
      brass box which you have described.  You must also put in a note
      to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and
      that this is the only one which remains.  You must assert that in
      such words as will carry conviction with them.  Having done this,
      you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed.
      Do you understand?"

          "Entirely."

          "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present.
      I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our
      web to weave, while theirs is already woven.  The first
      consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens
      you.  The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the
      guilty parties."

          "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his
      overcoat.  "You have given me fresh life and hope.  I shall
      certainly do as you advise."

          "Do not lose an instant.  And, above all, take care of
      yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a
      doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger.
      How do you go back?"

          "By train from Waterloo."

          "It is not yet nine.  The streets will be crowded, so I trust
      that you may be in safety.  And yet you cannot guard yourself too
      closely."

          "I am armed."

          "That is well.  To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case."

          "I shall see you at Horsham, then?"

          "No, your secret lies in London.  It is there that I shall
      seek it."

          "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with
      news as to the box and the papers.  I shall take your advice in
      every particular."  He shook hands with us and took his leave.
      Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered
      against the windows.  This strange, wild story seemed to have come
      to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of
      sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once
      more.

          Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head
      sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire.
      Then he lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the
      blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.

          "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases
      we have had none more fantastic than this."

          "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."

          "Well, yes.  Save, perhaps, that.  And yet this John Openshaw
      seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the
      Sholtos."

          "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to
      what these perils are?"

          "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered.

          "Then what are they?  Who is this K. K. K., and why does he
      pursue this unhappy family?"

          Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the
      arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together.  "The ideal
      reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a
      single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the
      chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which
      would follow from it.  As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole
      animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who
      has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should
      be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and
      after.  We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone
      can attain to.  Problems may be solved in the study which have
      baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their
      senses.  To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is
      necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilize all the
      facts which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself
      implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge,
      which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is
      a somewhat rare accomplishment.  It is not so impossible, however,
      that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be
      useful to him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in my case
      to do.  If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early
      days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise
      fashion."

          "Yes," I answered, laughing.  "It was a singular document.
      Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I
      remember.  Botany variable, geology profound as regards the
      mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry
      eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime
      records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and
      self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco.  Those, I think, were the
      main points of my analysis."

          Holmes grinned at the last item.  "Well," he said, "I say now,
      as I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic
      stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the
      rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he
      can get it if he wants it.  Now, for such a case as the one which
      has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster all
      our resources.  Kindly hand me down the letter K of the American
      Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you.  Thank you.
      Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from
      it.  In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption
      that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving
      America.  Men at his time of life do not change all their habits
      and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the
      lonely life of an English provincial town.  His extreme love of
      solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of
      someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis
      that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from
      America.  As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by
      considering the formidable letters which were received by himself
      and his successors.  Did you remark the postmarks of those
      letters?"

          "The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and
      the third from London."

          "From East London.  What do you deduce from that?"

          "They are all seaports.  That the writer was on board of a
      ship."

          "Excellent.  We have already a clue.  There can be no doubt
      that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer
      was on board of a ship.  And now let us consider another point.
      In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat
      and its fulfillment, in Dundee it was only some three or four
      days.  Does that suggest anything?"

          "A greater distance to travel."

          "But the letter had also a greater distance to come."

          "Then I do not see the point."

          "There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the
      man or men are is a sailing-ship.  It looks as if they always sent
      their singular warning or token before them when starting upon
      their mission.  You see how quickly the deed followed the sign
      when it came from Dundee.  If they had come from Pondicherry in a
      steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter.
      But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed.  I think that those
      seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which
      brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the
      writer."

          "It is possible."

          "More than that.  It is probable.  And now you see the deadly
      urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to
      caution.  The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which
      it would take the senders to travel the distance.  But this one
      comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay."

          "Good God!" I cried.  "What can it mean, this relentless
      persecution?"

          "The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital
      importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship.  I think
      that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them.
      A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way
      as to deceive a coroner's jury.  There must have been several in
      it, and they must have been men of resource and determination.
      Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may.
      In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an
      individual and becomes the badge of a society."

          "But of what society?"

          "Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and
      sinking his voice --"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"

          "I never have."

          Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee.
      "Here it is," said he presently:

              "Ku Klux Klan.  A name derived from the fanciful
          resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle.  This
          terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate
          soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War, and it
          rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the
          country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas,
          Georgia, and Florida.  Its power was used for political
          purposes, principally for the terrorizing of the negro voters
          and the murdering and driving from the country of those who
          were opposed to its views.  Its outrages were usually preceded
          by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but
          generally recognized shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in some
          parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others.  On receiving
          this the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or
          might fly from the country.  If he braved the matter out,
          death would unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some
          strange and unforeseen manner.  So perfect was the
          organization of the society, and so systematic its methods,
          that there is hardly a case upon record where any man
          succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its
          outrages were traced home to the perpetrators.  For some years
          the organization flourished in spite of the efforts of the
          United States government and of the better classes of the
          community in the South.  Eventually, in the year 1869, the
          movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been
          sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.

          "You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that
      the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the
      disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers.  It may
      well have been cause and effect.  It is no wonder that he and his
      family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track.
      You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some
      of the first men in the South, and that there may be many who will
      not sleep easy at night until it is recovered."

          "Then the page we have seen--"

          "Is such as we might expect.  It ran, if I remember right,
      `sent the pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's
      warning to them.  Then there are successive entries that A and B
      cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited,
      with, I fear, a sinister result for C.  Well, I think, Doctor,
      that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe
      that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do
      what I have told him.  There is nothing more to be said or to be
      done to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget
      for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more
      miserable ways of our fellowmen."

          It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a
      subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great
      city.  Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.

          "You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I
      have, I foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this
      case of young Openshaw's."

          "What steps will you take?" I asked.

          "It will very much depend upon the results of my first
      inquiries.  I may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

          "You will not go there first?"

          "No, I shall commence with the City.  Just ring the bell and
      the maid will bring up your coffee."

          As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table
      and glanced my eye over it.  It rested upon a heading which sent a
      chill to my heart.

          "Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

          "Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much.  How
      was it done?"  He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply
      moved.

          "My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading `Tragedy
      Near Waterloo Bridge.'  Here is the account:

              "Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of
          the H Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for
          help and a splash in the water.  The night, however, was
          extremely dark and stormy, so that, in spite of the help of
          several passers-by, it was quite impossible to effect a
          rescue.  The alarm, however, was given, and, by the aid of the
          water-police, the body was eventually recovered.  It proved to
          be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an
          envelope which was found in his pocket, was John Openshaw, and
          whose residence is near Horsham.  It is conjectured that he
          may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from
          Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and the extreme
          darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of
          the small landing-places for river steamboats.  The body
          exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt
          that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate
          accident, which should have the effect of calling the
          attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside
          landing-stages."

          We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and
      shaken than I had ever seen him.

          "That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last.  "It is a
      petty feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride.  It becomes a
      personal matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall
      set my hand upon this gang.  That he should come to me for help,
      and that I should send him away to his death--!"  He sprang from
      his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation,
      with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and
      unclasping of his long thin hands.

          "They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last.  "How
      could they have decoyed him down there?  The Embankment is not on
      the direct line to the station.  The bridge, no doubt, was too
      crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose.  Well, Watson,
      we shall see who will win in the long run.  I am going out now!"

          "To the police?"

          "No; I shall be my own police.  When I have spun the web they
      may take the flies, but not before."

          All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late
      in the evening before I returned to Baker Street.  Sherlock Holmes
      had not come back yet.  It was nearly ten o'clock before he
      entered, looking pale and worn.  He walked up to the sideboard,
      and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously,
      washing it down with a long draught of water.

          "You are hungry," I remarked.

          "Starving.  It had escaped my memory.  I have had nothing
      since breakfast."

          "Nothing?"

          "Not a bite.  I had no time to think of it."

          "And how have you succeeded?"

          "Well."

          "You have a clue?"

          "I have them in the hollow of my hand.  Young Openshaw shall
      not long remain unavenged.  Why, Watson, let us put their own
      devilish trade-mark upon them.  It is well thought of!"

          "What do you mean?"

          He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces
      he squeezed out the pips upon the table.  Of these he took five
      and thrust them into an envelope.  On the inside of the flap he
      wrote "S. H. for J. O."  Then he sealed it and addressed it to
      "Captain James Calhoun, Bark Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia."

          "That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling.
      "It may give him a sleepless night.  He will find it as sure a
      precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him."

          "And who is this Captain Calhoun?"

          "The leader of the gang.  I shall have the others, but he
      first."

          "How did you trace it, then?"

          He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered
      with dates and names.

          "I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registers
      and files of the old papers, following the future career of every
      vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in
      '83.  There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were
      reported there during those months.  Of these, one, the Lone Star,
      instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported
      as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to
      one of the states of the Union."

          "Texas, I think."

          "I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship
      must have an American origin."

          "What then?"

          "I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the bark
      Lone Star was there in January, '85, my suspicion became a
      certainty.  I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present
      in the port of London."

          "Yes?"

          "The Lone Star had arrived here last week.  I went down to the
      Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by
      the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah.  I wired
      to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as
      the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the
      Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight."

          "What will you do, then?"

          "Oh, I have my hand upon him.  He and the two mates, are, as I
      learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship.  The others are
      Finns and Germans.  I know, also, that they were all three away
      from the ship last night.  I had it from the stevedore who has
      been loading their cargo.  By the time that their sailing-ship
      reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and
      the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these
      three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder."

          There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human
      plans, and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive
      the orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and
      as resolute as themselves, was upon their track.  Very long and
      very severe were the equinoctial gales that year.  We waited long
      for news of the Lone Star of Savannah, but none ever reached us.
      We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a
      shattered stern-post of the boat was seen swinging in the trough
      of a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that is
      all which we shall ever know of the fate of the Lone Star.

