elapt1c/ElapticAI-512 · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 149M
his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my
lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were
protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope
which he still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ he shrieked, and
then, ‘My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’

“‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried.

“‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room,
leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw
scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter
K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried
pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the
breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with
an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand,
and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other.

“‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he
with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day,
and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’

“I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step
up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there
was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass
box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed,
with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had
read in the morning upon the envelope.

“‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave my
estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my
brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you
can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my
advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to
give you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t say what turn things are
going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.’

“I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him.
The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression
upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind
without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off
the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation
grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the
usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however.
He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of
society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door
locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of
drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the
garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of
no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by
man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush
tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man
who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the
roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold
day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin.

“Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse
your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken
sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to
search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay
at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the
water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his
known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew
how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade
myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed,
however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of
some £ 14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.

“One moment, Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, one of
the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date
of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his
supposed suicide.

“The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later,
upon the night of May 2nd.

“Thank you. Pray proceed.

“When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made
a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We
found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On
the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K.
K. repeated upon it, and ‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’
written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers
which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was
nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered
papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in America. Some of
them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and
had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during
the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned
with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the
carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North.

“Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at
Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of
’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a
sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There
he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried
orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always
laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but
he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon

his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my

lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were

protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope

which he still held in his trembling hand, ‘K. K. K.!’ he shrieked, and

then, ‘My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!’

“‘What is it, uncle?’ I cried.

“‘Death,’ said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room,

leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw

scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter

K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried

pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the

breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with

an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand,

and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other.

“‘They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he

with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day,

and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’

“I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step

up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there

was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass

box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed,

with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had

read in the morning upon the envelope.

“‘I wish you, John,’ said my uncle, ‘to witness my will. I leave my

estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my

brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you

can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my

advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to

give you such a two-edged thing, but I can’t say what turn things are

going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.’

“I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him.

The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression

upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind

without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off

the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation

grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the

usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however.

He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of

society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door

locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of

drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the

garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of

no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by

man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush

tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man

who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the

roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold

day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin.

“Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse

your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken

sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to

search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay

at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the

water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his

known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew

how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade

myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed,

however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of

some £ 14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.

“One moment, Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, one of

the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date

of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his

supposed suicide.

“The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later,

upon the night of May 2nd.

“Thank you. Pray proceed.

“When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made

a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We

found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On

the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K.

K. repeated upon it, and ‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’

written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers

which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was

nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered

papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in America. Some of

them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and

had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during

the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned

with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the

carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North.

“Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at

Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of

’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a

sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There

he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried

orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always

laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but

he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon