withme,forwemusthaveonetogivetothisgentlemaninplaceoftheonewhichyourfamilyisnowdevouring.”
Whenthecommissionairehadgone,Holmestookupthestoneandhelditagainstthelight.“It’sabonnything,”saidhe.“Justseehowitglintsandsparkles.Ofcourseitisanucleusandfocusofcrime.Everygoodstoneis.Theyarethedevil’spetbaits.Inthelargerandolderjewelseveryfacetmaystandforabloodydeed.Thisstoneisnotyettwentyyearsold.ItwasfoundinthebanksoftheAmoyRiverinsouthernChinaandisremarkableinhavingeverycharacteristicofthecarbuncle,savethatitisblueinshadeinsteadofrubyred.Inspiteofitsyouth,ithasalreadyasinisterhistory.Therehavebeentwomurders,avitriol-throwing,asuicide,andseveralrobberiesbroughtaboutforthesakeofthisforty-grainweightofcrystallisedcharcoal.Whowouldthinkthatsoprettyatoywouldbeapurveyortothegallowsandtheprison?I’lllockitupinmystrongboxnowanddropalinetotheCountesstosaythatwehaveit.”
“DoyouthinkthatthismanHornerisinnocent?”
“Icannottell.”
“Well,then,doyouimaginethatthisotherone,HenryBaker,hadanythingtodowiththematter?”
“Itis,Ithink,muchmorelikelythatHenryBakerisanabsolutelyinnocentman,whohadnoideathatthebirdwhichhewascarryingwasofconsiderablymorevaluethanifitweremadeofsolidgold.That,however,Ishalldeterminebyaverysimpletestifwehaveananswertoouradvertisement.”
“Andyoucandonothinguntilthen?”
“Nothing.”
“InthatcaseIshallcontinuemyprofessionalround.ButIshallcomebackintheeveningatthehouryouhavementioned,forIshouldliketoseethesolutionofsotangledabusiness.”
“Verygladtoseeyou.Idineatseven.Thereisawoodcock,Ibelieve.Bytheway,inviewofrecentoccurrences,perhapsIoughttoaskMrs.Hudsontoexamineitscrop.”
Ihadbeendelayedatacase,anditwasalittleafterhalf-pastsixwhenIfoundmyselfinBakerStreetoncemore.AsIapproachedthehouseIsawatallmaninaScotchbonnetwithacoatwhichwasbuttoneduptohischinwaitingoutsideinthebrightsemicirclewhichwasthrownfromthefanlight.JustasIarrivedthedoorwasopened,andwewereshownuptogethertoHolmes’room.
“Mr.HenryBaker,Ibelieve,”saidhe,risingfromhisarmchairandgreetinghisvisitorwiththeeasyairofgenialitywhichhecouldsoreadilyassume.“Praytakethischairbythefire,Mr.Baker.Itisacoldnight,andIobservethatyourcirculationismoreadaptedforsummerthanforwinter.Ah,Watson,youhavejustcomeattherighttime.Isthatyourhat,Mr.Baker?”
“Yes,sir,thatisundoubtedlymyhat.”
Hewasalargemanwithroundedshoulders,amassivehead,andabroad,intelligentface,slopingdowntoapointedbeardofgrizzledbrown.Atouchofredinnoseandcheeks,withaslighttremorofhisextendedhand,recalledHolmes’surmiseastohishabits.Hisrustyblackfrock-coatwasbuttonedrightupinfront,withthecollarturnedup,andhislankwristsprotrudedfromhissleeveswithoutasignofcufforshirt.Hespokeinaslowstaccatofashion,choosinghiswordswithcare,andgavetheimpressiongenerallyofamanoflearningandletterswhohadhadill-usageatthehandsoffortune.
“Wehaveretainedthesethingsforsomedays,”saidHolmes,“becauseweexpectedtoseeanadvertisementfromyougivingyouraddress.Iamatalosstoknownowwhyyoudidnotadvertise.”
Ourvisitorgavearathershamefacedlaugh.“Shillingshavenotbeensoplentifulwithmeastheyoncewere,”heremarked.“Ihadnodoubtthatthegangofroughswhoassaultedmehadcarriedoffbothmyhatandthebird.Ididnotcaretospendmoremoneyinahopelessattemptatrecoveringthem.”
“Verynaturally.Bytheway,aboutthebird,wewerecompelledtoeatit.”
“Toeatit!”Ourvisitorhalfrosefromhischairinhisexcitement.
“Yes,itwouldhavebeenofnousetoanyonehadwenotdoneso.ButIpresumethatthisothergooseuponthesideboard,whichisaboutthesameweightandperfectlyfresh,willansweryourpurposeequallywell?”
“Oh,certain