before.”
AlldayIwasengagedinmyprofessionalwork,anditwaslateintheeveningbeforeIreturnedtoBakerStreet.SherlockHolmeshadnotcomebackyet.Itwasnearlyteno’clockbeforeheentered,lookingpaleandworn.Hewalkeduptothesideboard,andtearingapiecefromtheloafhedevoureditvoraciously,washingitdownwithalongdraughtofwater.
“Youarehungry,”Iremarked.
“Starving.Ithadescapedmymemory.Ihavehadnothingsincebreakfast.”
“Nothing?”
“Notabite.Ihadnotimetothinkofit.”
“Andhowhaveyousucceeded?”
“Well.”
“Youhaveaclue?”
“Ihavetheminthehollowofmyhand.YoungOpenshawshallnotlongremainunavenged.Why,Watson,letusputtheirowndevilishtrade-markuponthem.Itiswellthoughtof!”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hetookanorangefromthecupboard,andtearingittopieceshesqueezedoutthepipsuponthetable.Ofthesehetookfiveandthrustthemintoanenvelope.Ontheinsideoftheflaphewrote“S.H.forJ.O.”Thenhesealeditandaddresseditto“CaptainJamesCalhoun,BarqueLoneStar,Savannah,Georgia.”
“Thatwillawaithimwhenheentersport,”saidhe,chuckling.“Itmaygivehimasleeplessnight.HewillfinditassureaprecursorofhisfateasOpenshawdidbeforehim.”
“AndwhoisthisCaptainCalhoun?”
“Theleaderofthegang.Ishallhavetheothers,buthefirst.”
“Howdidyoutraceit,then?”
Hetookalargesheetofpaperfromhispocket,allcoveredwithdatesandnames.
“Ihavespentthewholeday,”saidhe,“overLloyd’sregistersandfilesoftheoldpapers,followingthefuturecareerofeveryvesselwhichtouchedatPondicherryinJanuaryandFebruaryin’83.Therewerethirty-sixshipsoffairtonnagewhichwerereportedthereduringthosemonths.Ofthese,one,theLoneStar,instantlyattractedmyattention,since,althoughitwasreportedashavingclearedfromLondon,thenameisthatwhichisgiventooneofthestatesoftheUnion.”
“Texas,Ithink.”
“IwasnotandamnotsurewhichbutIknewthattheshipmusthaveanAmericanorigin.”
“Whatthen?”
“IsearchedtheDundeerecords,andwhenIfoundthatthebarqueLoneStarwasthereinJanuary,’85,mysuspicionbecameacertainty.ItheninquiredastothevesselswhichlayatpresentintheportofLondon.”
“Yes?”
“TheLoneStarhadarrivedherelastweek.IwentdowntotheAlbertDockandfoundthatshehadbeentakendowntheriverbytheearlytidethismorning,homewardboundtoSavannah.IwiredtoGravesendandlearnedthatshehadpassedsometimeago,andasthewindiseasterlyIhavenodoubtthatsheisnowpasttheGoodwinsandnotveryfarfromtheIsleofWight.”
“Whatwillyoudo,then?”
“Oh,Ihavemyhanduponhim.Heandthetwomates,areasIlearn,theonlynative-bornAmericansintheship.TheothersareFinnsandGermans.Iknow,also,thattheywereallthreeawayfromtheshiplastnight.Ihaditfromthestevedorewhohasbeenloadingtheircargo.Bythetimethattheirsailing-shipreachesSavannahthemail-boatwillhavecarriedthisletter,andthecablewillhaveinformedthepoliceofSavannahthatthesethreegentlemenarebadlywantedhereuponachargeofmurder.”
Thereiseveraflaw,however,inthebestlaidofhumanplans,andthemurderersofJohnOpenshawwerenevertoreceivetheorangepipswhichwouldshowthemthatanother,ascunningandasresoluteasthemselves,wasupontheirtrack.Verylongandverysevereweretheequinoctialgalesthatyear.WewaitedlongfornewsoftheLoneStarofSavannah,butnoneeverreachedus.WedidatlasthearthatsomewherefaroutintheAtlanticashatteredstern-postofaboatwasseenswinginginthetroughofawave,withtheletters“L.S.”carveduponit,andthatisallwhichweshalleverknowofthefateoftheLoneStar.