THE ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS MANE.docx

THE ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS MANE.docx

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THEADVENTUREOFTHELIONSMANE

1926

SHERLOCKHOLMES

THEADVENTUREOFTHELION'SMANE

bySirArthurConanDoyle

Itisamostsingularthingthataproblemwhichwascertainlyas

abstruseandunusualasanywhichIhavefacedinmylongprofessional

careershouldhavecometomeaftermyretirement,andbebrought,

asitwere,tomyverydoor.Itoccurredaftermywithdrawaltomy

littleSussexhome,whenIhadgivenmyselfupentirelytothat

soothinglifeofNatureforwhichIhadsooftenyearnedduringthe

longyearsspentamidthegloomofLondon.Atthisperiodofmylife

thegoodWatsonhadpassedalmostbeyondmyken.Anoccasional

week-endvisitwasthemostthatIeversawofhim.ThusImustactas

myownchronicler.Ah!

hadhebutbeenwithme,howmuchhemighthave

madeofsowonderfulahappeningandofmyeventualtriumphagainst

everydifficulty!

Asitis,however,Imustneedstellmytaleinmy

ownplainway,showingbymywordseachstepuponthedifficultroad

whichlaybeforemeasIsearchedforthemysteryoftheLion'sMane.

Myvillaissituateduponthesouthernslopeofthedowns,

commandingagreatviewoftheChannel.Atthispointthecoast-line

isentirelyofchalkcliffs,whichcanonlybedescendedbya

single,long,tortuouspath,whichissteepandslippery.Atthe

bottomofthepathlieahundredyardsofpebblesandshingle,even

whenthetideisatfull.Hereandthere,however,therearecurves

andhollowswhichmakesplendidswimming-poolsfilledafreshwitheach

flow.Thisadmirablebeachextendsforsomemilesineachdirection,

saveonlyatonepointwherethelittlecoveandvillageofFulworth

breaktheline.

Myhouseislonely.I,myoldhousekeeper,andmybeeshavethe

estatealltoourselves.Halfamileoff,however,isHarold

Stackhurst'swell-knowncoachingestablishment,TheGables,quitea

largeplace,whichcontainssomescoreofyoungfellowspreparing

forvariousprofessions,withastaffofseveralmasters.Stackhurst

himselfwasawell-knownrowingBlueinhisday,andanexcellent

all-roundscholar.HeandIwerealwaysfriendlyfromthedayIcame

tothecoast,andhewastheonemanwhowasonsuchtermswithme

thatwecoulddropinoneachotherintheeveningswithoutan

invitation.

TowardstheendofJuly,1907,therewasaseveregale,thewind

blowingupchannel,heapingtheseastothebaseofthecliffsand

leavingalagoonattheturnofthetide.OnthemorningofwhichI

speakthewindhadabated,andallNaturewasnewlywashedand

fresh.Itwasimpossibletoworkuponsodelightfuladay,andI

strolledoutbeforebreakfasttoenjoytheexquisiteair.Iwalked

alongthecliffpathwhichledtothesteepdescenttothebeach.AsI

walkedIheardashoutbehindme,andtherewasHaroldStackhurst

wavinghishandincheerygreeting.

"Whatamorning,Mr.Holmes!

IthoughtIshouldseeyouout."

"Goingforaswim,Isee."

"Atyouroldtricksagain,"helaughed,pattinghisbulging

pocket."Yes.McPhersonstartedearly,andIexpectImayfindhim

there."

FitzroyMcPhersonwasthesciencemaster,afineupstandingyoung

fellowwhoselifehadbeencrippledbyhearttroublefollowing

rheumaticfever.Hewasanaturalathlete,however,andexcelledin

everygamewhichdidnotthrowtoogreatastrainuponhim.Summerand

winterhewentforhisswim,and,asIamaswimmermyself,Ihave

oftenjoinedhim.

Atthismomentwesawthemanhimself.Hisheadshowedabovethe

edgeofthecliffwherethepathends.Thenhiswholefigure

appearedatthetop,staggeringlikeadrunkenman.Thenextinstant

hethrewuphishandsand,withaterriblecry,felluponhisface.

StackhurstandIrushedforward-itmayhavebeenfiftyyards-and

turnedhimonhisback.Hewasobviouslydying.Thoseglazedsunken

eyesanddreadfullividcheekscouldmeannothingelse.Oneglimmerof

lifecameintohisface:

foraninstant,andheutteredtwoorthree

wordswithaneagerairofwarning.Theywereslurredand

indistinct,buttomyearthelistofthem,whichburstinashriek

fromhislips,were"theLion'sMane."Itwasutterlyirrelevantand

unintelligible,andyetIcouldtwistthesoundintonoothersense.

Thenhehalfraisedhimselffromtheground,threwhisarmsintothe

air,andfellforwardonhisside.Hewasdead.

Mycompanionwasparalyzedbythesuddenhorrorofit,butI,asmay

wellbeimagined,hadeverysenseonthealert.AndIhadneed,forit

wasspeedilyevidentthatwewere,inthepresenceofanextraordinary

case.ThemanwasdressedonlyinhisBurberryovercoat,histrousers,

andanunlacedpairofcanvasshoes.Ashefellover,hisBurberry,

whichhadbeensimplythrownroundhisshoulders,slippedoff,

exposinghistrunk.Westaredatitinamazement.Hisbackwascovered

withdarkredlinesasthoughhehadbeenterriblyfloggedbyathin

wirescourge.Theinstrumentwithwhichthispunishmenthadbeen

inflictedwasclearlyflexible,forthelong,angrywealscursedround

hisshouldersandribs.Therewasblooddrippingdownhischin,forhe

hadbittenthroughhislowerlipintheparoxysmofhisagony.His

drawnanddistortedfacetoldhowterriblethatagonyhadbeen.

IwaskneelingandStackhurststandingbythebodywhenashadow

fellacrossus,andwefoundthatIanMurdochwasbyourside.Murdoch

wasthemathematicalcoachattheestablishment,atall,dark,thin

man,sotaciturnandaloofthatnonecanbesaidtohavebeenhis

friend.Heseemedtoliveinsomehigh,abstractregionofsurdsand

conicsections,withlittletoconnecthimwithordinarylife.He

waslookeduponasanodditybythestudents,andwouldhavebeen

theirbutt,buttherewassomestrangeoutlandishbloodintheman,

whichshoweditselfnotonlyinhiscoal-blackeyesandswarthyface

butalsoinoccasionaloutbreaksoftemper,whichcouldonlybe

describedasferocious.Ononeoccasion,beingplaguedbyalittledog

belongingtoMcPherson,hehadcaughtthecreatureupandburledit

throughtheplate-glasswindow,anactionforwhichStackhurstwould

certainlyhavegivenhimhisdismissalhadhenotbeenaveryvaluable

teacher.Suchwasthestrangecomplexmanwhonowappearedbeside

us.Heseemedtobehonestlyshockedatthesightbeforehim,though

theincidentofthedogmayshowthattherewasnogreatsympathy

betweenthedeadmanandhimself.

"Poorfellow!

Poorfellow!

WhatcanIdo?

HowcanIhelp?

"

"Wereyouwithhim?

Canyoutelluswhathashappened?

"

"No,no,Iwaslatethismorning.Iwasnotonthebeachatall.I

havecomestraightfromTheGables.WhatcanIdo?

"

"Youcanhurrytothepolice-stationatFulworth.Reportthe

matteratonce."

Withoutawordhemadeoffattopspeed,andIproceededtotakethe

matterinhand,whileStackhurst,dazedatthistragedy,remainedby

thebody.Myfirsttasknaturallywastonotewhowasonthebeach.

FromthetopofthepathIcouldseethewholesweepofit,anditwas

absolutelydesertedsavethattwoorthreedarkfigurescouldbe

seenfarawaymovingtowardsthevillageofFulworth.Havingsatisfied

myselfuponthispoint,Iwalkedslowlydownthepath.Therewas

clayorsoftmarlmixedwiththechalk,andeveryhereandthereIsaw

thesamefootstep,bothascendinganddescending.Nooneelsehadgone

downtothebeachbythistrackthatmorning.AtoneplaceI

observedtheprintofanopenhandwiththefingerstowardsthe

incline.ThiscouldonlymeanthatpoorMcPhersonhadfallenashe

ascended.Therewereroundeddepressions,too,whichsuggestedthathe

hadcomedownuponhiskneesmorethanonce.Atthebottomofthepath

wastheconsiderablelagoonleftbytheretreatingtide.Attheside

ofitMcPhersonhadundressed,fortherelayhistowelonarock.It

wasfoldedanddry,sothatitwouldseemthat,afterall,hehad

neverenteredthewater.OnceortwiceasIhuntedroundamidthehard

shingleIcameonlittlepatchesofsandwheretheprintofhiscanvas

shoe,andalsoofhisnakedfoot,couldbeseen.Thelatterfact

provedthathehadmadeallreadytobathe,thoughthetowelindicated

thathehadnotactuallydoneso.

Andherewastheproblemclearlydefined-asstrangeaoneashad

everconfrontedme.Themanhadnotbeenonthebeachmorethana

quarterofanhouratthemost.StackhursthadfollowedhimfromThe

Gables,sotherecouldbenodoubtaboutthat.Hehadgonetobathe

andhadstripped,asthenakedfootstepsshowed.Thenhehad

suddenlyhuddledonhisclothesagain-theywerealldishevelledand

unfastened-andhehadreturnedwithoutbathing,oratany,rate

withoutdryinghimself.Andthereasonforhischangeofpurposehad

beenthathehadbeenscourgedinsonicsavage,inhumanfashion,

tortureduntilhebithislipthroughinhisagony,andwasleft

withonlystrengthenoughtocrawlawayandtodie.Whohaddone

thisbarbarousdeed?

Therewere,itistrue,smallgrottosandcaves

inthebaseofthecliffs,butthelowsunshonedirectlyintothem,

andtherewasnoplaceforconcealment.Then,again,therewere

thosedistantfiguresonthebeach.Theyseemedtoofarawaytohave

beenconnectedwiththecrime,andthebroadlagooninwhichMcPherson

hadintendedtobathelaybetweenhimandthem,lappingtiptothe

rocks.Ontheseatwoorthreefishing-boatswereatnogreat

distance.Theiroccupantsmightbeexaminedatourleisure.Therewere

severalroadsforinquiry,butnonewhichledtoanyveryobvious

goal.

WhenIatlastreturnedtothebodyIfoundthatalittlegroupof

wonderingfolkhadgatheredroundit.Stackhurstwas,ofcourse,still

there,andIanMurdochhadjustarrivedwithAnderson,thevillage

constable,abig,ginger-moustachedmanoftheslow,solidSussex