\t\tLauriston tragedy

Sherlock Holmes's speculation was confirmed again, I had to admit it, which surprised me again, but I still had some doubts, suspected that it was a trap he had arranged in advance to tease me, and I didn't know why he wanted to tease me. When I read him, he had finished reading the letter, his eyes were dazed and thoughtful.

"How did you infer?" I asked him.

He asked in a rough voice: "What are you guessing?"

"Well, how did you guess that he was a retired Marine Corps sergeant?"

"I don't have time to talk about these trivial matters," he replied rudely, and then laughed again, "Please forgive me for being rude. You interrupted my thoughts, but that's OK, you, don't you really realize that he was a Marine sergeant?"

"I really didn't see it."

"Actually, this is very simple, but it is not so simple to explain how I speculate. Just like asking you to prove that two plus two equals four, you know that this is an unquestionable fact, but it is still very difficult. I saw the man's hand tattooed on the back of his hand through the street, which is the characteristic of a seaman. Moreover, he not only had a military beard, but also had a military temperament in every move. Therefore, I am sure he was a Marine. You must also see his posture of raising his head and waving his staff, as if he was giving orders, very arrogant, arrogant, but not without being stable and solemn - because of these situations, I concluded that he had been a military officer."

"It's so amazing!" I couldn't help but shout.

"It's nothing," said Sherlock Holmes. But, he could see that he was very surprised and admired by me. "I just said there was no case to be investigated, and now there is - look at this!" He said and threw the letter he sent in front of me.

"Oh," I looked at it roughly and screamed in surprise, "It's so terrifying!"

He said calmly: "This case is indeed very unusual. Can you please recite a letter to me loudly?"

I picked up my faith:

Dear Mr. Holmes:

Last night, a murder occurred at 3 Garden Street, Lauriston at the end of Brixton Road. At about two o'clock this morning, the patrol officers found lights in the place. Because the patrol officer knew that the house had always been uninhabited, he suspected something was wrong. When he approached, he found that the door was open, the hall was empty, and a male corpse was lying. The corpse was well-dressed, with the words "Inauk J. Reiber, native of Cleveland City, Ohio, USA" and so on.

The business card with the words "Talk". After investigation, except for the bloodstains found in the house, there were no scars on the deceased's body, and there was no sign of robbery at the scene. We were puzzled by how the deceased entered the empty house and were helpless about the case. We dared to ask you to go to the scene before twelve o'clock, and I will wait for you there. Before you arrive, we will protect the scene. If you cannot come, I will report all the details to you. I would like to give me some advice. I would be grateful.

Tebeth Gleason

Sherlock Holmes said: "Gleason is the best talent in the London Police Office. He and Lestrade are among the best idiots. They were originally quick-witted, alert and capable people, but they were too conservative, not to mention that they were fighting openly and secretly, just like two laughing women who were suspicious and intrigue. If they both interfered in this case, there would be a good show."

Seeing that Holmes was still calm and talking nonsense, I was very anxious and couldn't help but shout, "Don't waste time anymore, I'll call you a carriage!"

"I haven't decided whether to go or not, why are you anxious? Although I'm very diligent sometimes, I'm lazy than anyone else when I get lazy."

"What? Haven't you been waiting for this day to come?"

"Yes, but this has nothing to do with me. I am an unofficial person. Even if I resolve the case, the credit will be taken away by Gladyson and Restrade."

"But they have asked you for help now."

"This is they know I'm better than them, but they don't want others to know this. Well, even if that's the case, we have to go and see. Even if I can't get anything, I'll have to solve the case alone so that they can make a fool of themselves."

He hurriedly put on his coat, looking eager to try.

"Put your hat," he said to me.

"Did you let me go too?"

"Yes, if you have nothing else." A minute later, we got into a carriage and rushed to Brixton.

It was a gloomy morning. Sherlock Holmes talked with great interest along the way about the difference between the violins produced in Cremona, Italy and the Stratidivali and the Amati [3] violins, but I was depressed by this sudden incident and the gloomy sky, listening without saying a word.

Finally, I couldn't help but interrupt Holmes's musical discussion, and I said, "It seems like you're careless about this case."

He replied: "How can I do it? It's just that I don't make random judgments before I master all the materials. Because that often leads to wrong judgments."

"You'll get some materials soon," I pointed to the front and said, "If I'm not wrong, Brixton Road will be there, and there is the house where something went wrong."

"Yes, just here, stop, coachman, stop quickly!" He insisted on getting off the car, and we walked on the remaining road.

No. 3 Garden Street, Lauriston, looks like a haunted house. There are four houses a little far away from the street, two inhabited, two empty, No. 3 is an empty building. There are three rows of windows on the street, and the words "rental" are posted everywhere on the dusty glass. The scenery is extremely desolate and deserted. Each house has a small garden in front of it, separating them from the street. There is a yellow path made of clay and stone in the small garden, which was muddy by the heavy rain last night. There are short walls about three feet high and wooden fences are installed on the top of the wall. A tall policeman stood against the wall, and outside the walls were several people stretched their necks into the house, but they could not see anything.

Sherlock Holmes didn't go into the house to investigate as I thought. He didn't seem anxious, and even a little careless. When I saw him like this, I felt that he was a little pretentious. He walked around the sidewalk, looked at the ground, looked up at the sky and the house opposite the walls. Later, he slowly walked over the grass on the roadside, carefully watching the muddy path. He stopped twice, and once I saw him smile and heard him cheer. On this muddy clay road, because the police had stepped on it for many times, leaving many footprints, I really didn't understand what he could tell from it. However, I still believe in his keen observation and believed that he must have discovered many things I had not found.

A tall man with light yellow hair and fair face stood at the door of the house to greet us. He held a notebook in his hand. He ran up and held my companion's hand enthusiastically and said, "It's easy to deal with when you come. We have protected the scene and everything is left as it is."

"But that one is not protected!" Sherlock Holmes pointed to the path and said, "It was worse than being trampled by a group of buffaloes. Gladyson, it seems you have come to the conclusion, otherwise you wouldn't let others do this?"

Gleason said in desperation: "I'm busy in the house, and I've entrust all the things outside to my colleague Restrade."

Sherlock Holmes glanced at him, squeezed his eyebrows and said, "With you and Restrade, the third person of course can't find anything."

Gleason rubbed his hands proudly and said, "I think I have tried my best. This case is indeed very bizarre and suits your appetite."

"You didn't come in a carriage, did you?" asked Sherlock Holmes.

"Not sitting, sir."

"Where is Restrade?"

"Either he."

"So, let's go into the house and take a look."

After asking the mindless words, Holmes stepped into the house. Gleason followed behind in surprise.

There was a short aisle leading to the kitchen, and there was no carpet on the aisle, which was covered with dust. There was a door on both sides of the aisle. One of them had obviously not been opened for a long time, and the other was the door of the restaurant. The tragedy happened in this restaurant. Sherlock Holmes walked in, and I was in a very heavy mood when I saw the dead body and followed him.

This is a large square house, which is wider because it has no furniture. There are cheap wallpapers on the walls, and some places are spotted with mold, and some places are even large and peeling off, and the yellow and pink walls inside are exposed. Facing the door, is a beautiful fireplace, the fireplace frame is made of white fake marble, and there is a red candle on the stove. There is only one window in the whole house, and it is still gray, so the light in the house is very dark.

All of these above were what I saw later. When I first entered, I focused on the very terrifying corpse. He lay on the floor, staring at the faded ceiling with his white eyes. The deceased was forty-three, four years old, with a medium figure, black curly hair, short and hard beard, wide shoulders, wearing a thick black tweed dress and vest, white hard collar and cuffs, light-colored pants. There was a neat top hat beside his ears. The deceased clenched his fists, his arms wide open, and his legs overlapped. It seemed that he had struggled in pain before his death. The deceased looked fierce and grinned, and it seemed that he was very resentful and afraid. His forehead was low, his nose was flat, his chin was protruding, and he looked like a strange-looking flat-nose monkey. I have seen all kinds of dead people, but I have never seen anything more terrifying than this.

Restrade, who has always been thin and detective, stood at the door and greeted us.

He said: "This case will surely stir the whole city. Sir, I am not a novice in handling cases, but I have never seen such a bizarre thing."

Gleason asked, "Are there any clues?"

Restrade replied: "Not at all."

Sherlock Holmes walked to the corpse, squatted down and inspected it carefully.

"Are you sure the deceased has no scars?" he asked, pointing to the blood stains around him.

The two detectives said in unison: "Absolutely not."

"Then, these blood must be from another person, maybe left by the murderer. If this was a murder case, it would have made me remember the situation when Van Kensen died in Soushikt in 1834. Gladyson, do you still remember that case?"

"Forgot, sir."

"You should look at the record of that case. There are many so-called new things that are not new."

He said while touching and pressing with his sensitive fingers, then unbuttoning the dead's clothes and checking it. A blank expression appeared in his eyes. Finally, he sniffed the dead's lips and looked at the soles of the deceased's patent leather boots.

"Have the body never moved?" he asked.

“Not moved except for necessary inspections.”

"Now you can pull him away and buried him," he said, "there is nothing to be checked again."

Gleason had already prepared a pair of stretchers and four stretchers. With his greeting, they came in and carried the dead out. As they lifted the body, a ring rolled onto the floor. Restrade quickly picked it up and looked at it in surprise.

"There must be a woman who has been here. This is a woman's wedding ring."

He said, and reached out to everyone with his hand holding the ring. We surrounded him. It turned out that it was the gold ring worn by the bride.

"That means the case is even more complicated," Glason said.

"Maybe this ring can make the case simpler! It's useless to look at it stupidly. What did you search for in the deceased's pocket?"

"It's all here," said Gleason, pointing to a small pile of things on the last level of the stairs, "a gold watch of 97163 made by the London Barolds, a heavy and sturdy Albert gold chain; a gold ring engraved with a Masonic emblem; a gold pin with a tiger-headed dog head and a dog's eye two rubies. There is also a Russian leather business card holder containing the business card of Cleveland and Inauk J. Reb, whose name matches the three abbreviations of "E·J·D" on the shirt. There is no wallet, only seven pounds and thirteen shillings. A pocket-size version of "The Dec-Day" written by Bugachu[4], with the title page of Joseph Stanzson. There are two more letters - one for Reb, and the other for Joseph Stanzson."

“Where was it sent?”

"The American Exchange on Riverside Road left me with me for my own pickup. The letter was sent from Gain Steamship Company, which told them when the ship was leaving from Liverpool. It seemed that this unlucky person was preparing to return to New York."

"Have you investigated Stan Jessun?"

"Sir, I investigated it right away," said Gladyson. "I have sent the missing person notice to newspapers to publish it, and sent people to the US exchange to inquire, but the person has not come back yet."

"Have you contacted Cleveland?"

"We sent a telegram to the other side early this morning."

"What was said in the telegram?"

"We have explained the case in detail and asked them to provide some useful information."

“Didn’t you focus on the issues you think are critical?”

"I mentioned Steinjieson."

"Didn't ask anything else? Is there no key question in the whole case? Can't you send another telegram?"

Gleason said angrily: "I said everything I should say in the telegram."

Holmes smiled secretly, just as he was about to say something, when Restrade came again, and he rubbed his hands proudly. While we were talking to Gleason in the room, he was in the hall in front.

"Mr. Gleason, I just discovered something very important - fortunately I checked the wall carefully, otherwise I would have missed it." The boy spoke with bright eyes, obviously he was showing off his major discovery.

"Please come with me," he said, quickly returning to the front hall. As the body was carried away, the air in the room seemed to be much fresher.

"Okay, just stand there!"

He lit the matches and raised them to shine on the wall.

"Look at this!" he said proudly.

As mentioned earlier, many wallpapers on the wall were peeled off. On the corner of the wall that Restrade pointed to, the wallpaper was peeled off to the ground, and the yellow pink wall was exposed. There was a grass word written in blood on it:
To be continued...