901.

Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of The Speckled Band (Learn English with a Short Story)
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The Adventure of the

Speckled Band
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Some things I should say first

- This is fairly complex, old-fashioned English

This story was published in 1892, and so the English is pretty old
fashioned.

Compared to today’s English, the main difference is that everything

seems more formal in style. Victorian society was generally a lot more
formal than ours is today, and this is reflected in the language - with its
long, complex sentences and vocabulary.

But overall, it’s not too different to the English we use today. It’s not like
Shakespeare, for example, which is very difficult for most people to
understand fully.

I think the vast majority of the vocabulary used here is still applicable
today and in fact a lot of it is beautiful and descriptive language which I
find very enjoyable to read.

Hopefully my quick explanations and synonyms will help you understand

everything, and will help you to convert the more old-fashioned language
into more contemporary English.

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- A short story, but a long episode

I expect that my short explanations will cause this episode to become
quite long!

This is a short story as it is less than 10,000 words, but this episode
might still be long.

Short story - long episode

So, let’s begin!

If you feel you’re getting lost, don’t worry. Just keep listening and I’ll clarify
things for you regularly.

As you listen, can you solve the mystery? Listen to the evidence and
descriptions and try to work out who committed the crime, why, and how they
did it, and then marvel at the way Sherlock Holmes (almost) perfectly solves
the case.

So, let’s go back in time to London at the end of the 19th century, for a gothic
mystery.

Remember - Sherlock Holmes is a professional private detective with a

particular set of skills - he is a very very observant man and is able to use
logic and deductive reasoning to understand things deeply, and solve
problems which other people can’t.

He lives at 221b Baker Street with his companion, Doctor John Watson.
Watson accompanies Holmes on his investigations and writes accounts of
what happens each time.

The story is narrated by Watson.

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The Adventure of the Speckled Band

On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have
during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock
Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange,
but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his
art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself
with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even
the fantastic.

Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which

presented more singular features than that which was associated with
the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.

The events in question occurred in the early days of my association

with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It
is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a
promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been
freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the
pledge was given.

It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I
have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death
of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible
than the truth.

***

It was early in April in the year ‘83 that I woke one morning to find
Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed.

He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece

showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in

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some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself
regular in my habits.

“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common
lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted
upon me, and I on you.”

“What is it, then—a fire?”

“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable

state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in
the sitting-room.

Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of
the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume
that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate.
Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to
follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and
give you the chance.”

“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”

I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional

investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as
intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he
unravelled the problems which were submitted to him.

***

I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to

accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black
and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we
entered.

“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is

Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson,
before whom you can speak as freely as before myself.

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Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light
the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for
I observe that you are shivering.”

“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low
voice, changing her seat as requested.

“What, then?”

“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she spoke,
and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her
face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some
hunted animal.

Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair
was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and
haggard.

***

Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick,

all-comprehensive glances.

“You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting
her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have
come in by train this morning, I see.”

“You know me, then?”

“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of
your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good
drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.”

The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my

companion.

“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left arm

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of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The
marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which
throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand
side of the driver.”

“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she.

“I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past,

and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no
longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to—none,
save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid.

***

“I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs.
Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from
her that I had your address.

Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least
throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me?

At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but

in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own
income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful.”

Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book,
which he consulted.

“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an
opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson.

I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care
to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is
its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may
be put to, at the time which suits you best.

***

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And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help
us in forming an opinion upon the matter.”

“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation lies in the
fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely
upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to
whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon
all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman.

He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and
averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into
the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to
walk amid the dangers which encompass me.”

“I am all attention, madam.”

***

“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is

the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the
Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.”

Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he.

“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the
estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and
Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive
heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin
was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency.

Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the

two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy
mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the
horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather,
seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an
advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and
went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of
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character, he established a large practice.

In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been

perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly
escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of
imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and
disappointed man.

“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner,

the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My
sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time
of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money—not
less than 1000 pounds a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott
entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual
sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage.

Shortly after our return to England my mother died—she was killed

eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe.

Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in

practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral
house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough
for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.

“But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead
of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at
first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family
seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge
in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path.

Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the

men of the family, and in my stepfather’s case it had, I believe, been
intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful
brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he
became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach,
for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his

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anger.

***

“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a

stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could
gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure.

He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would

give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of
bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, and would
accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with
them sometimes for weeks on end.

He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him
by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon,
which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the villagers
almost as much as their master.

***

“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had
no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a
long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the time
of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine
has.”

“Your sister is dead, then?”

“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to
you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we
were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had,
however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail,
who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short
visits at this lady’s house.

Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a

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half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather

learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no
objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had
been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has
deprived me of my only companion.”

***

Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes
closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now
and glanced across at his visitor.

“Pray be precise as to details,” said he.

“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is
seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said,
very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this
wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central
block of the buildings.

Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the second my sister’s,

and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but
they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?”

“Perfectly so.”

“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That
fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that
he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of
the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her
room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time,
chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose to
leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back.

“‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard anyone whistle in
the dead of the night?’

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“‘Never,’ said I.

“‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your
sleep?’

“‘Certainly not. But why?’

“‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in
the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has
awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from— perhaps from the next
room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you
whether you had heard it.’

“‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.’

“‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that

you did not hear it also.’

“‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’

“‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back at

me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the
lock.”

“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock

yourselves in at night?”

“Always.”

“And why?”

“I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah

and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were
locked.”

“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”

***

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“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune

impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you
know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely
allied.

It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was
beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the
hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified
woman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice.

I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into
the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as
my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a
mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was
unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges.

I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue

from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the
opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her
whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard.

I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her
knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one
who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I
thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she
suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, ‘Oh, my God!
Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’

There was something else which she would fain have said, and she
stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor’s room,
but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words.

I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him

hastening from his room in his dressing-gown.

When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious, and though

he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the
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village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without
having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my
beloved sister.”

***

“One moment,” said Holmes, “are you sure about this whistle and
metallic sound? Could you swear to it?”

“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my

strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale
and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived.”

“Was your sister dressed?”

“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the
charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.”

“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the
alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the
coroner come to?”

“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conduct
had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any
satisfactory cause of death.

My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner
side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with
broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were
carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the
flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result.

The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is

certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end.
Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.”

***

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“How about poison?”

“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.”

“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?”

“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock,
though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.”

“Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?”

“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”

“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckled
band?”

“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of

delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people,
perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether
the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads
might have suggested the strange adjective which she used.”

Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.

“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your narrative.”

***

“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately
lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have
known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in
marriage. His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr.
Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading.

My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are

to be married in the course of the spring.

Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the
building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to

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move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very
bed in which she slept.

Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake,

thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the
night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death.

I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the
room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as
soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn,
which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come
on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your
advice.”

***

“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?”

“Yes, all.”

“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather.”

“Why, what do you mean?”

For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed
the hand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little livid spots, the
marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.

“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes.

The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist.

“He is a hard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own
strength.”

There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon
his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

***

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“This is a very deep business,” he said at last. “There are a thousand

details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of
action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke
Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without
the knowledge of your stepfather?”

“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some

most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day,
and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a
housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her
out of the way.”

“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?”

“By no means.”

“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself ?”

“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in

town. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to be there in
time for your coming.”

“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some
small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?”

“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided

my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this
afternoon.”

She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the
room.

***

“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes,

leaning back in his chair. “It seems to me to be a most dark and

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sinister business.”

“Dark enough and sinister enough.”

“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are
sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her
sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious
end.”

“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the

very peculiar words of the dying woman?”

“I cannot think.”

“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a

band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact
that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in
preventing his stepdaughter’s marriage, the dying allusion to a band,
and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which
might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the
shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to
think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines.”

“But what, then, did the gipsies do?”

“I cannot imagine.”

“I see many objections to any such theory.”

“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke

Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they
may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!”

The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact

that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had
framed himself in the aperture.

***

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His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the

agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock coat, and a pair of high
gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his
hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth
seemed to span it across from side to side.

A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with

the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the
other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin,
fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird
of prey.

***

“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition.

“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my
companion quietly.

“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”

“Indeed, Doctor,” said Holmes blandly. “Pray take a seat.”

“I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I

have traced her. What has she been saying to you?”

“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.

“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man furiously.

“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued my

companion imperturbably.

“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step
forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I
have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.”

My friend smiled.

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“Holmes, the busybody!”

His smile broadened.

“Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!”

Holmes chuckled heartily.

“Your conversation is most entertaining,” said he. “When you go out

close the door, for there is a decided draught.”

“I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with my
affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a
dangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward,
seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurling
the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

***

“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing.

“I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown

him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke
he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it
out again.

“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official

detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however,
and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence
in allowing this brute to trace her.

And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall

walk down to Doctors’ Commons, where I hope to get some data which
may help us in this matter.”

***

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It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his
excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with
notes and figures.

“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determine
its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of
the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at
the time of the wife’s death was little short of 1100 pounds, is now,
through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750 pounds.

Each daughter can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of

marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this
beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would
cripple him to a very serious extent.

My morning’s work has not been wasted, since it has proved that
he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of
the sort.

And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the
old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if
you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo.

I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into
your pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen
who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I
think, all that we need.

***

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead,

where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles
through the lovely Surrey lanes.

It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the
heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first
green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth.

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To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet

promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were
engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his
hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried
in the deepest thought.

Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and

pointed over the meadows.

“Look there!” said he.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening

into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted
out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

“Stoke Moran?” said he.

“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked the
driver.

“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is

where we are going.”

“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs

some distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you’ll
find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot path over the
fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.”

“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading his
eyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.”

We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to
Leatherhead. “I thought it as well,” said Holmes as we climbed the stile,
“that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on
some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss
Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word.”

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***

Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face
which spoke her joy.

“I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” she cried, shaking hands
with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to
town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening.”

“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,”

said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred.
Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. “Good heavens!”
she cried, “he has followed me, then.”

“So it appears.”

“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him.

What will he say when he returns?”

“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone
more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up
from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your
aunt’s at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so
kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine.

***

The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central

portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on
each side.

In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with
wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin.

The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand

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block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the
blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where
the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end
wall, and the stone work had been broken into, but there were no signs of
any workmen at the moment of our visit.

Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and

examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows.

“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the
centre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main building to Dr.
Roylott’s chamber?”

“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.”

“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does

not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.”

“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from

my room.”

“Ah! That is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing
runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are
windows in it, of course?”

“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through.”

“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were
unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go
into your room and bar your shutters?”

Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through
the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open,
but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be
passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they
were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry.

“Hum!” said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, “my theory

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certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if

they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon
the matter.”

***

A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the
three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber,
so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now
sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate.

It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping

fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of
drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in
another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window.

These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the
furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre.
The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown,
worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the
original building of the house.

Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his
eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of
the apartment.

***

“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing

to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually
lying upon the pillow.

“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”

“It looks newer than the other things?”

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“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”

“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”

“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we
wanted for ourslves.”

“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You

will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor.”

He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and
crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks
between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with
which the chamber was panelled.

Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it
and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the
bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.

“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he.

“Won’t it ring?”

“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting.

You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the
little opening for the ventilator is.”

“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.”

“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are

one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a
fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when,
with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside
air!”

“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.

“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes.

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“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.”

“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummy

bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your
permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the
inner apartment.”

***

Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of his

step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden
shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the
bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron
safe were the principal things which met the eye.

Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with
the keenest interest.

“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

“Oh! You have seen inside, then?”

“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”

“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”

“No. What a strange idea!”

“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which

stood on the top of it. “No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a
cheetah and a baboon.”

“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of
milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one
point which I should wish to determine.”

He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the

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seat of it with the greatest attention.

“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting his
lens in his pocket.

“Hullo! Here is something interesting!”

The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one
corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so
as to make a loop of whipcord. “What do you make of that, Watson?”

“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.”

“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! It’s a wicked world, and
when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think
that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we
shall walk out upon the lawn.”

***

I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as it

was when we turned from the scene of this investigation.

We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss
Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused
himself from his reverie.

“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you should
absolutely follow my advice in every respect.”

“I shall most certainly do so.”

“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend
upon your compliance.”

“I assure you that I am in your hands.”

“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the
night in your room.”

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Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the

village inn over there?”

“Yes, that is the Crown.”

“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?”

“Certainly.”

“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache,

when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for
the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp,
put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with
everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used
to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could
manage there for one night.

“Oh, yes, easily.”

“The rest you will leave in our hands.”

“But what will you do?”

“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the
cause of this noise which has disturbed you.”

“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,”
said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve.

“Perhaps I have.”

“Then, for pity’s sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister’s death.”

“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.”

“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct,

and if she died from some sudden fright.”

“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more

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tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr.
Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain.

Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you
may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten
you.”

***

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and

sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from
our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the
inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House.

At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form
looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had
some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the
hoarse roar of the doctor’s voice and saw the fury with which he shook
his clenched fists at him.

The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light
spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes as we sat together in the

gathering darkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you
to-night. There is a distinct element of danger.”

“Can I be of assistance?”

“Your presence might be invaluable.”

“Then I shall certainly come.”

“It is very kind of you.”

“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms
than was visible to me.”

“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that

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you saw all that I did.”

“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that
could answer I confess is more than I can imagine.”

“You saw the ventilator, too?”

“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a
small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could
hardly pass through.”

“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we

came to Stoke Moran.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her
sister could smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that suggested at
once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It
could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the
coroner’s inquiry. I deduced a ventilator.”

“But what harm can there be in that?”

“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is

made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that
strike you?”

“I cannot as yet see any connection.”

“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?”

“No.”

“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed
fastened like that before?”

“I cannot say that I have.”

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“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same
relative position to the ventilator and to the rope—or so we may call it,
since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.”

“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We
are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.”

“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong

he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer
and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man
strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike
deeper still.

But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for
goodness’ sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few
hours to something more cheerful.”

***

About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all
was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly
away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light
shone out right in front of us.

“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comes from
the middle window.”

As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord,

explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that
it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we
were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one
yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our
sombre errand.

***

There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired

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breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees,
we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the
window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what
seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the
grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the
darkness.

“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”

Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a
vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and
put his lips to my ear.

“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.”

I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was
a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any
moment.

I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes’

example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom.
My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the
table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the
daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he
whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to
distinguish the words:

“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”

I nodded to show that I had heard.

“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”

I nodded again.

“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your
pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the

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bed, and you in that chair.”

I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the
bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a
candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

***

How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound,
not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat
open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension
in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we
waited in absolute darkness.

From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at

our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the
cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of
the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long
they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three,
and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall.

Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the

direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was
succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in
the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of
movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew
stronger.

For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another
sound became audible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small
jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we
heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed

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furiously with his cane at the bell pull.

“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”

***

But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I
heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary
eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend
lashed so savagely.

I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with
horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the
ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the
most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and
louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one
dreadful shriek.

They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant
parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to
our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last
echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.

“What can it mean?” I gasped.

“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, after
all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott’s
room.”

***

With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the

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corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from
within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the
cocked pistol in my hand.

It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a
dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of
light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar.

Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad
in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and
his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers.

Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had
noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were
fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his
brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which
seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made
neither sound nor motion.

“The band! The speckled band!” whispered Holmes.

***

I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to

move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat
diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.

“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. He

has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth,
recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs
for another.

Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove
Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what
has happened.”

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As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap,
and throwing the noose round the reptile’s neck he drew it from its
horrid perch and, carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into the iron safe,
which he closed upon it.

***

Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of
Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which
has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad
news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to
the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official
inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while
indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet.

The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by
Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.

“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which

shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from
insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word
‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the
appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of
her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent.

I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position

when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened
an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the
door.

My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you,

to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed.

The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped
to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there
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as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the
bed.

The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it

with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of
creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track.

The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be

discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a
clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity
with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of
view, be an advantage.

It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the

two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had
done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall
the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim.

He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to
return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator
at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl
down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the
occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner
or later she must fall a victim.

***

“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room.
An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of
standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he
should reach the ventilator.

The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord
were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained.

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The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her
stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant.
Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order
to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no
doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it.”

“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”

“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the
other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its
snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way
I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s death,
and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my
conscience.”

Luke’s summary of the whole story, in

chronological order
The Roylott family were one of the oldest Anglo-Saxon families in England
- a noble family, like the family in Downton Abbey.

But over successive generations, the family’s fortune had been lost and so
when Grimesby Roylott inherited the estate, there was almost no money
left, almost no land left except the house and its grounds, which were in
very bad condition.

Grimesby decided that he needed to learn professional skills in order to

earn money, so he trained to be a doctor. He moved to India where he lived
and practised. While living there he married a woman who had two twin
daughters - Julia and Helen.

Grimesby was a very nasty and mean man (like his ancestors, apparently)
Luke’s English Podcast - [Link]
 901. Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of The Speckled Band (Learn English with a Short Story)
39

and he got in trouble when he had a furious argument with his Indian
butler, and killed him.

He spent time in prison in India because of this, before moving back to

England with his wife and the two step-daughters.

His wife died in a train accident, and so Grimesby was left to live in the old
house with his step-daughters.

Grimesby’s time in India and in prison, and the death of his wife had
changed him. He became even more bad-tempered, more aggressive and
anti-social. He had violent encounters with almost everyone he met. His
habits were strange. He kept several exotic and dangerous animals which
he had acquired in India, and often let them move freely in the house and
gardens, and he befriended some gipsies - travelling people, let them stay
on his land, and would sometimes go and stay with them in their tents.
These are the only people he socialised with.

The two step-daughters had inherited some money when their mother
died, and clearly, Grimesby wanted this money.

When one of the girls got engaged, Grimesby pretended to be happy with
the engagement, but secretly he planned to have the girl killed, so he could
take her inheritance money.

He planned her murder very carefully, so that nobody could understand

how it had happened, or that he was the murderer.

One problem here - it seems to obvious that he did it! Clear motive and no
other obvious cause of death - everyone would definitely assume it was
him! But I suppose his cruelty and evil were more powerful forces in him
than his intelligence or reason.

As well as the baboon and the cheetah, Grimesby had also acquired a very

Luke’s English Podcast - [Link]

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40

poisonous snake, which he kept in a safe in his room.

He trained the snake to go into Julia’s room, where it would probably bite
her.

He installed a ventilation shaft which connected the two rooms (actually

just to allow the snake to move into Julia’s room and back again) and hung
a bell-pull from the ceiling next to the ventilation hole, which hung down
onto Julia’s bed. He trained the snake to go through the ventilation shaft,
slither down the rope and onto the bed where it would bite Julia, and then
when he whistled, the snake would come back up the rope, through the
ventilator and into his bedroom.

The bed was attached to the floor, making sure that it was always in the
right position for the rope.

Grimesby used a dog leash with a loop in it to catch the snake and move it
around, putting it back into the safe.

This is what he did, and this is how Julia was killed.

Her sister Helen heard her scream when she was bitten and rushed to help
her. She heard the sound of Grimesby, in the next room, closing the heavy
metal door of the safe - where the snake was kept. While dying, Julia said
something about the speckled band. She was talking about the snake -
trying to describe it.

When her body was examined, nobody thought about the possibility of a
snake bite and didn’t notice the small holes where the snake’s fangs had
bitten her. Snake bites are not common in the UK and so nobody would
consider this or notice it.

The venom of this snake is instantly lethal, and also no tests for poison
would have detected it.

When Helen got engaged too, after several years of living this terrifying life,

Luke’s English Podcast - [Link]

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41

subjected to Grimesby’s cruel treatment, her step-father also accepted the

proposal, but then planned to kill Helen in the same way (the idiot!)

He pretended to start repair work on the wall of the house, making Helen
move into the middle bedroom (the one with the bell-pull rope, attached
bed, connection to his room via the ventilator etc) and there he tried his
plan again. Helen heard the sound of Grimesby calling to the snake, but
wasn’t bitten.

Feeling terrified and not understanding the situation, she went to Sherlock
Holmes for help.

Holmes thought that the gipsies might be involved, perhaps working for
Grimesby and entering Julia’s bedroom through the window and doing
something. He though the word “band” in “speckled band” meant a band
of people - a group of gipsies maybe. But this was a red herring.

The dangerous animals were also a red-herring, kind of. Neither of them
were actually involved in the killing, but it did make Holmes realise that
perhaps Grimesby had other dangerous animals - in this case, a snake
which could be trained to enter the room and bite the victim.

Holmes and Watson went to the house while Grimesby wasn’t there and
investigated. Holmes noticed these things:

- There was no way to enter the window from the outside.

- There were no secret doors or trapdoors in the room.
- The bell-pull rope was fake - it wasn’t attached to a bell, and was just
hooked to the ceiling next to the ventilator opening.
- The ventilator did not communicate with the outside (which would be
normal) but with Grimesby’s room.
- The bed was attached to the floor under the ventilator and rope.
- In Grimesby’s room there was the other end of the ventilator shaft.
There was a closed safe on the floor with a saucer of milk on top.
There was a dog leash tied in a loop. It was clear that Grimesby used
to stand on the chair regularly. Holmes worked out that this was so

Luke’s English Podcast - [Link]

 901. Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of The Speckled Band (Learn English with a Short Story)
42

Grimesby could put the snake in the ventilator, using the dog leash.

Holmes decided they needed to spend a night in the room to see what
would happen (so Holmes could see if a snake would come from the
ceiling), so when Grimesby had settled in his room, Helen opened the
window, moved to the other room and Holmes & Watson climbed in
through the open window and waited silently.

At about 3AM they noticed Grimesby’s light turning on. Eventually they
heard the snake coming through the ventilator, hissing as it came.

Holmes was ready and attacked the snake with a cane (poor snake). The
snake went back through the ventilator, and bit Grimesby in his room.
Grimesby screamed, and died.

Holmes decided although he had indirectly led to Grimesby’s death, that

he wouldn’t feel guilty about it because justice had been done.

Luke’s English Podcast - [Link]