Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Tainted Canister Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the Persian slipper, and fell into the chair opposite my own. When his pipe was drawing well, he commanded simply: “Tell me.” So I told my friend how I became a murderer, much as I have told it here.
    When I had finished, Holmes sighed deeply, but he continued sitting in a silence that I found interminable. The words that finally passed his lips were his own epitaph for another murderous physician.
    â€œâ€™When a doctor goes wrong, he is the first of criminals. He has the nerve, and he has the knowledge.’ My compliments, Watson. You really did it very well.”
    Many times over the years, I had hoped for words of praise from Sherlock Holmes, but these were unendurable. I could not answer him. So I merely sat and listened, as wretchedly self-contemptuous as I have ever felt, while he began to dissect my performance.
    â€œIt was unexpectedly clever of you to wear Anstruther’s slippers. A good thought, that, although ultimately it was ineffective as a blind. Upon examining the victim’s body, I was able to determine that his slippers did not conform precisely to his feet. And to anyone who really knows you, Doctor, that inward turn of your left foot (the result of your old war wound) is readily apparent, regardless of how—or whether—you are shod.”
    â€œI know.” Somehow, I managed to choke out a response. “I did try to sit as much as possible.”
    â€œWell, no matter. Most investigators would not have noticed it. Lestrade, I can assure you, has no more than a suspicion—and certainly no proof—that Dr. Anstruther was not alone in the bedroom where he met his end.”
    â€œI am relieved, though not surprised, to hear it.”
    â€œStill, I could not tell just how you had done it until I saw the body. The police had removed it from the house—that was necessary to ensure its preservation—but upon Lestrade’s instructions they had postponed the autopsy until after my examination. Thanks be to God, I have taught that man something over these past years.
    â€œA look of horror, Watson, was still upon Anstruther’s face. It recalled so forcefully the terrible visage of Dr. Grimesby Roylott that I divined immediately what you had done. Moreover, the serpent’s fang-marks were still visible upon the left foot of the corpse, once I knew to look for them, and there was also some discoloration of the tissue. It is most fortunate for you that Lestrade’s medical examiner—“
    â€œDavies,” I interjected. “Yes, I was rather counting on him.”
    â€œWell, he is evidently as much an ass as his employer. I am not certain that he would have recognized a python wrapped around the victim’s neck.
    â€œBut you could not fool me , Watson,” chided Holmes, shaking an admonitory finger. “Just to make assurance double sure, I followed your tracks to Pinchin Lane this afternoon. Old Sherman confirmed that you had borrowed and returned the Roylott adder—he was curious to learn what I had wanted with it—and I knew that I had made my case.”
    â€œYes, Holmes,” I acknowledged, “as you so often do. But now I must ask what you intend to do with your solution. Naturally, I shall accept you as my judge—you have done as much for other criminals that we have caught together—but this time I am debarred from my usual role as juror. I must stand mute, my lord, and await your verdict.”
    Sherlock Holmes was silent for even longer than before. He sat and inhaled his stimulative tobacco, while I devoutly hoped that mine would not prove to be a three-pipe problem. When he finally answered, it was with words I would recall one day when writing of another of his cases.
    â€œI have never loved,” said Holmes. “But if I loved, and if the woman whom I loved was killed in such a way, and by a man whom she had valued as a friend and suitor; if that same man by killing her had also